Chapter 13 – Cold Feet

Miss Edwards, the village Curate, smiled as she asked, "And how are we doing today?"

Al muttered, "Fine."

We were sitting in her office once more, which seemed to be even messier than before, but when you looked at Rose Edwards she was very well turned out. I gave Al a look, for he was acting oddly when he picked me up to come to the church. I asked him what was going on, but he'd only shrugged. "Fine, at least I am," I answered her.

"Well, we ought to talk about flowers, and the music. Were you planning on having Mrs. Tishell play? Or bring in somebody else?"

Al shrugged. "Donnoh."

She leaned toward him. "Are you alright, Mr. Large?"

Al sat motionless. "Mm?" he answered after a few seconds. "Sorry. You said somethin'?"

"Yes, I did. I asked, how are you? And I asked about other things."

He shrugged. "I'm…" he squinted at me. "Fine. I reckon."

"Fine, you think, that what we're saying?"

"Uhm, yeah. Right. Just…" He rubbed his face. "Tired I suppose. Late night."

The Curate then faced me. "And how is the blushing bride?"

Ought I to tell her I had to wee all the time? Or that I suddenly was aware of so many smells? That the smell of frying cod made me sick, but that haddock didn't? And the sight of flowers made me happy? How did that make sense anyway? Hormones plus physiological changes, the Doc would say. Part of the gestational process; both icky and amazing at the same time. "Maybe not so blushing, more… more concerned."

"What about?" the Curate said.

"Oh, everything. The weddin', what flowers we should have, ought I to invite everyone, or just a few? And…" Al start to nod, in agreement, I suppose. "My parents."

"And what about your parents?" she asked.

"Jack and Tara, they are," Al grunted. "Africa."

"Yeah, they're down in Kenya. Mission work," I added to Al's answer.

"Are they clergy?" the Curate asked.

"No. Not that they can't be a bit churchy. Sorry. But they can be a…. driven by the mission work they do there. They work for a non-profit that builds schools, that sort of thing."

The Curate smiled. "Splendid. I always wondered what that would be like; working with the needy, especially in a far away land. The good Lord said that we have the poor always, but that does not mean we should ignore them. But we have poor people here as well."

Al bobbed his head. "Yes."

"But…" I took a deep breath, "I have invited them…" Suddenly my mouth started to quiver. The Curate gave me a tissue which I blew my nose on. "But… not sure they'll come. It's a long way, and the tickets are costly."

The Curate folded her hands. "Let us pray for all travelers." She closed her eyes and her lips moved.

Al rolled his eyes at the Curate, in irritation I guess, so I poked him and he yelped.

"Problem?" she asked us.

"Ah, no," coughed Al, "I thought… a…. bee flew by."

The Curate's started in alarm as she looked around the room. "A bee. Well," she sighed, "I hope it leaves. I'm allergic. Hives and so forth. Swelling; shortness of breath. Had to go to hospital when I was kid. But they are God's creatures too, hee-hee."

"Anaphylaxis," I told her.

"That's it," she replied, then she dug into her robe, and took out a large plastic device. "This has my epinephrine. Never go anywhere without it. I know it's not the bee's fault, but even so. Better safe than sorry. I was on a flight once and another passenger started gasping and choking! Poor thing. Bee bite. Had to shoot them up."

"Sting," Al said to her. "Bees don't bite."

"Are you sure?"

He grinned. "Yep. Stingers."

She smiled. "Oh Lord here we are trying to talk about you and your wedding! Then I go off nattering on about bees and epi-pens. Now, where were we?"

"My parents," I answered.

"Right. Parents. I was going to be married but my parents couldn't be there. Awful feeling," she said in a grim tone.

I looked at Al as he said, "But you're not married."

"No. Not now. I mean, I went, but… it didn't happen… the wedding. He'd…" She turned her desk chair to face away. Then I saw her wipe her face from the way her arms moved.

During Joe and Janice's ceremony the Curate had babbled on about how her fella had dumped her and how unfair that was and how marriage was sacred. "Miss Edwards?" I said softly. "I… am… sorry that happened."

She sighed and then turned back to face us. "Right. Water under the dam."

"You mean water under the bridge," Al snorted. "It's water over the dam."

"Is it? Yes. Exactly," she answered. "Bridge. That. Now what about your parents?"

I explained how they were surprised and shocked at the news.

She asked, "And think they don't approve?"

"I…"

Al cleared his throat. "Sudden like. I hope… they get used to us, uhm, me."

The Curate shook her head. "Do you think they don't like the fact that their only child is going to marry you, Al?"

Al shook his head. "Maybe."

I took Al's hand. "Oh no, Al. Can't be that. They're fine… with us, I think."

Al stood up while I clung to his fingers. "Might be. But, I'm not exactly the cream of the crop, am I? I could tell that they weren't very happy when they found out we were…" his face fell. "Together."

"Or from fact that you went to open the door in my dressing gown? The one with the flowers?" I had to laugh. "Just maybe pink isn't your color."

"But, I didn't have a shirt on Morwenna!"

Even the Curate chuckled. "Might be a good idea to dress for the occasion in future; when you answer the door."

Al blew air from his nose, with his mouth clamped tightly. "I'll try to remember your advice," he said grumpily.

I rubbed his hand, but there was no life in his fingers. "Al. Al?"

He sighed. "Sorry. There's been a lot on my mind."

"What would that be?" the Curate asked. "Sit, please. Let's chat about this."

Al shook my hand away as he dropped back to the chair. "It's all a bit sudden. The wedding and everything."

Rosie gave me a funny look, so I asked him, "Don't you want to marry me, Al?"

He nodded. "I do."

"Then… what is going on?"

Al rubbed the back of his neck, the way he does when he's upset or nervous. Then he leaned forward with elbows on knees and stared at the floor. "Maybe… I'm thinkin' that I'm not the right fella, Mor'," he said slowly.

"How can you say that? My God Al, I…" My hand went to my belly. "Of course, you're the right fellow! You're my boyfriend, and… I'm carryin' your child. I mean it's my child as well, but I surely didn't get this baby started on my own, now did I?"

He sat there morosely.

"AL?" Come on Al. Don't get all nervous now. Bloody hell. Is this going to be a repeat of Louisa and the Doc?

"Yeah?" he groaned.

"I love you Al Large and I always will, come what may. Come on, buck up."

He sniffed. "I guess I wondered. I kinda forced you into this."

I put my arm over his and took his hand. "You didn't force me into anything, Al Large! Don't be a gloomy Gus, will you? And I'm nervous too."

He looked at me with some sort of relief to his face. "You're…" he gulped, "nervous?"

"Good God yes!" I said. "Sorry Curate."

The Curate had been silent, but when I looked at her I saw she was crying. "Oh you two…" she sniffled, "true love is so hard… hard to have…. hard to hold on to." She stopped. "Do you both want to get married?"

"We do," Al and I said in unison, and that set the Curate to crying even more.

"Good… good…" she blubbered. "Now about the flowers…"