9. LES NOCES ROUGES
.
In the tiny chapel just down the road from the Connellys' cottage, they stand facing the minister, flanked by Chrissy on Janet's side and Neil on Brian's. The chapel is barely large enough for them, Brian's parents, Erin, George and his wife Louise, Mrs. Roper and Mrs. Starr sitting in the pews.
The older women are dabbing at their eyes with tissues, Erin staring at them in perplexity.
"Whatcha crying about, Mom? Aren't you happy?"
"Shhhh, Erin. You'll know when you get to be my age."
The ceremony is brief and to the point. Even so, Brian is having problems with his end of the conversation.
"Do you, Brian Connelly – "
"Oh boy, do I ever!"
" – promise to be true – "
" – promise to be crew – through – true – "
" – in good and in bad – "
" – in good and in bed – "
"Bad, you idiot!" Neil corrects in a loud whisper, elbowing his brother in the side.
The whole wedding party dissolves in helpless giggles.
Brian takes Janet's ring from Neil and slips it on her finger, the slim gold band now sitting atop the diamond heart engagement ring.
Chrissy hands Janet Brian's ring, their hands shaking so badly it's a miracle the ring ends up where it's supposed to go.
"I now pronounce you man and wife. You may – "
Brian misses Janet's lips and plants a kiss on her hair.
"Young'uns," grumbles the minister good-naturedly. "What's your hurry? You have your whole lives ahead of you to drive each other crazy."
...
They spill out of the chapel and head back to the cottage.
Just as they turn off the road onto the property, they come to a tall wooden arch wreathed in flowers and ribbons sitting across their path.
"Oh no. Look what they've gone and done!"
"After we told them we didn't want them to go to any trouble!"
Brian leans closer to Janet's ear. "Wanna run away?"
"Why not? Let's!"
"Oh no, you don't!" yells Chrissy. "Get them, Erin! Neil, from the other side!"
They form a live chain around the newlyweds, and the whole giddy, laughing bunch of them pushes through the arch.
The moment they set foot on the property, an amateur band – two acoustic guitars, a sax, a keyboard, a set of drums and a pair of soloists – breaks into spirited song:
California girl California girl
You're the best thing that I've seen in awhile
"Works as well as Here Comes the Bride, don't you think?"
"I'd say this is an improvement. Especially on the Dressed All in White part."
"There, you see?" Chrissy sounds triumphant. "And you two fools wanted to run away!"
"Our mistake, Chrissy!"
"We've learned our lesson!"
"That's better. Get a move on, guys, everybody's hungry."
...
In the secluded dell behind the cottage, a long table has been set, made up of several tables brought out of the neighbors' houses, flanked with mismatched chairs and benches. The table is laden with delicacies prepared by many loving hands, bottles of champagne, green and golden Irish whiskeys, black Guinness and wines of every hue and origin.
Brian Connelly's wedding to the love of his life is a big day for the whole community. The kind, friendly and handsome lad has been everybody's favorite since he was a kid.
Erin brings out a tray of Irish coffees which are quickly distributed around the table.
"Attagirl, Erin! Keep'em coming!"
"Cream as rich as an Irish brogue, coffee as strong as a friendly hand, sugar as sweet as the tongue of a rogue, and whiskey as smooth as the wit of the land!"
"Uncle Sean, if you can recite all that, you haven't drunk enough!"
At one end of the table, a group of older people, Mr. and Mrs. Connelly among them, sit in two semi-circles facing each other – men on the one side, women on the other.
"Oh soldier soldier will you marry me
With your musket, fife and drum?"
– sing out the women in unison. The men's choir responds with much enthusiasm, if not exactly on pitch:
"Oh how can I marry such a pretty girl as ye
When I got no pants to put on?"
Brian blushes and looks sheepish. "Sorry, baby. The old folks do this every time. They are so lame!"
"Lame? What's wrong with you, Bri? They are not lame, they are adorable!"
"Seriously? You like this? I'm so glad! I'm used to girls laughing at them – "
"Excuse me, have we met? I am not "girls". I am your wife. And I am no snob, in case you haven't noticed. Anyway, shush, I wanna listen." She pulls him closer to the singers.
The sing-along is drawing to a close. The women ask their question for the last time, the men countering: "Oh how can I marry such a pretty girl as ye – " and everybody joining in for the punchline: "WITH A WIFE AND A BABY AT HOME!"
The laughter almost drowns out the last bars. A woman's voice protests: "That's not funny!", another cajoling: "Oh c'mon, Molly, lighten up!". The disapproving Molly can't resist joining in the merriment.
A few paces from the table, a large, square wooden platform has been erected. The band members, hurriedly finishing up their drinks, take their places in one corner.
"First dance! First dance! First dance!" chants the crowd.
For the first time today, Brian looks like he'd rather be anywhere but here.
"Bri, you got this," says Janet reassuringly. "Just remember what we practised."
"Yeah, baby, I know. Stay out of your way as much as I can. Oh no!" He suddenly panics. "I can't remember what they are gonna play! They changed the playlist on me ten times!"
"Regardless – " starts Janet, but at that moment Brian gets his answer as the sax goes into the haunting, heart-rending riff of Careless Whisper.
"He's never gonna dance again," mutters Brian as they climb onto the platform hand in hand. "Lucky bastard."
...
The party breaks up well into the night.
The younger people surround the newlyweds, all set to walk them to their cabin.
"Guys, hang on." Janet suddenly stops. "I need to pick something up at the house."
"But Janet, all your stuff is already waiting for you at the cabin. Erin and I put it there before the ceremony."
"Thanks, Chrissy. I just need a minute or so. Guys, don't leave without me, okay?"
She heads for the house and steps into the living-room, followed by Brian and the crowd.
"I just need a minute," she says again.
She sinks into an armchair and shuts her eyes.
And opens them. And gets up. "Come on, guys, let's go."
They spill out into the night.
"Hey, people!" somebody yells. "I have an idea! Let's carry them both on our shoulders!"
"Cool! Dibs on the bride!"
"I could carry that bride to the ends of the earth. But who's gonna lug this Bigfoot?"
"It'll take six of us together!"
"He can walk, for all I care!"
"Let's leave him behind! We don't need him!"
Boisterous, lighthearted laughter fills the air.
A shadow blocks their way. A man unsteady on his feet.
"Hey, roomie! Dint expect to see me here, didja?"
"Steve!" Brian looks startled, then his face lights up in a smile. "I'm so glad you made it!"
"What the hell's he doing here?" mutters George under his breath.
Steve sways drunkenly. "Are you now? My in... invitation get lost in the mail or somethn?"
"Now, you know very well I wanted you to come. I tried to invite you twice, and both times you shut me down."
"Maybe you shoulda tried harder!"
"Maybe. Anyway," Brian puts his hand on Steve's shoulder, "I'm really happy to see you, pal. Come on back to the table with us. Let's go raise a toast together."
"Fuck you, roomie!" Steve throws Brian's hand off.
An uncomfortable silence hangs over the gathering. George, Neil and a few other men take a step towards Steve. Brian gestures for them to stay where they are.
"I can see you've gotten a head start on the toasting. Let's get some food into you. There's lots of good chow left over."
"You can stuff your leftovers right up your ass, Bri!"
Standing next to Brian, Janet shivers uncontrollably. He turns to face her and puts his arms around her reassuringly. "Baby, it's fine. He's just had a drink too many. I'll get him a bite to eat and – "
"DON'T TURN YOUR BACK ON ME, ASSHOLE!"
Behind Brian, Steve raises his arm with something shiny and sharp in his hand.
Brian sags heavily in Janet's arms. She collapses under his weight. They both fall to the ground. A warm liquid gushes out of his mouth all over her.
The night is shaken by screams and wails of dread and shock.
"My goodness, Brian, what's happening? Oh no, oh no!"
"Get that bastard! He stabbed my brother!"
"Stay with me, pal! Help is coming! Stay with me!"
"Brian, don't die, please, don't die – "
Chrissy stands next to Janet, frozen in terror.
"Run, Chrissy! Honey, run!" she whispers.
Chrissy's pink dress disappears towards the house.
Janet kneels on the ground as Brian bleeds out in her arms.
A shrill wail of the siren announces the arrival of the police and ambulance summoned by Chrissy's frantic phone call.
…
For some time, they tried to fill the void in one another's hearts and lives by sticking together. The Connellys insisted she move in with them as she was now family. She had neither the heart nor the energy to turn them down.
Mr. Connelly was making arrangements for the Orange County property to be sold "as is". It was clear none of them would ever be able to set foot there. A team of cleaners descended on it to do the cleanup and retrieve their personal items. Apart from that, the house was to be sold with all contents. Along with the beautiful cabin in the far corner of the property, its French provincial furniture crafted out of pinewood imbuing the rooms with a warm golden glow, still waiting for the happy couple which no longer existed. And the dancing platform in the little valley behind the cottage, right next to the spot where Brian's blood had seeped into the ground as he lay dying in his bride's arms.
The "Bloody Wedding Cottage", as the media had wasted no time in dubbing it, was estimated to fetch roughly one-tenth of its market value at best. Unless it was snatched up by some freak with a taste for the macabre who made the acquisition of murder houses their life's work.
Apprehending the killer had been easy. The police found him wandering in the hills right behind the Connelly property, not even trying to hide. He seemed to have suffered a psychotic break. He was found unfit to stand trial for reasons of insanity and stashed at a maximum-security psychiatric facility for the rest of his life.
The Connellys felt cheated. As if, had he been brought to trial and convicted, it would have given them a modicum of closure. Janet didn't care one way or the other. It wouldn't have changed anything.
She dutifully played her part for a couple of months, until she could no longer keep up the charade. None of that was real, and pretending otherwise could not ease their agony. She was no daughter to Mr. and Mrs. Connelly, no sister to Neil and Erin. And no wife to Brian. She was his widow.
One day, she picked up the phone and dialled the number.
"Your room is all ready for you, child," said Mrs. Starr over the phone.
Janet gulped.
"Unless you would prefer a different room in the house. That could be arranged."
"Yes... that might be better," murmured Janet.
...
Mrs. Starr seemed to have aged twenty years since Janet had last seen her. The once poised, elegant older lady suddenly looked ancient and frail.
After settling Janet in, the landlady collapsed onto the living-room couch and burst into heart-wrenching sobs. Janet thought she could from time to time make out barely intelligible words she was muttering: "...knew it would all go terribly wrong... messing with the timeline... told her... if only I had... too late, too late..."
The words rang a distant bell. Janet was sure she had heard Mrs. Starr say something about timelines before. On another very bad, very fateful day. But after the crying jag was over, she waved Janet's questions away: "You don't want to listen to an old woman's ramblings, child. I stopped making sense a long time ago."
...
She went to work every morning, stayed in the nights when she wasn't working as late as she could without falling asleep at her desk, kept in touch with the Connellys. At first, at least once a week, then less and less often.
Once in a while, she would visit Brian's grave. The Connellys wanted to go all together as a family, but she insisted on going alone. She would kneel on the grave in total silence for about an hour, then go straight home and upstairs to her room. Mrs. Starr knew to give her space on such occasions.
"My mom and sister insisted on hopping on the next flight," said Janet once. "I just barely managed to talk them out of it. With Dad so sick – "
Mrs. Starr shook her head. "You can't do this to them, child. They are your family. They need to be with you in your time of trouble, and you shouldn't take this away from them. That would be just wrong."
"I agree," said Janet. "But I don't want them coming out here. I've decided to go home."
"For a visit?"
"For good. As soon as I can wrap things up at work. There's nothing for me here."
"I think that would be best," agreed Mrs. Starr.
...
The night before her flight to Indianapolis, she went out for one last stroll around the city.
Lost deep in thought, she walked wherever her legs would take her, and looked up in surprise to see that they had taken her to a pub she and Brian used to frequent.
She hesitated, then went in.
Their favorite booth was occupied, she noted with strange relief. Sitting in it alone would be more than she could handle. She hopped up on a stool at the far end of the bar and ordered a Corona.
After a while, she became aware of somebody standing at her elbow. She glanced sideways to see a tall, good-looking young man staring at her intently.
"Is this seat taken, Miss?"
She gestured for him to sit.
"Hey there, lovely dark eyes." He slid onto the seat next to her and smiled warmly.
"Hey yourself." She smiled back, the first time in months, as she turned to look at him and...