Morning Glory

Chapter 9

On his wedding day Will awakened excited. He had a secret. Something he’d been working on for two weeks and had finished by lanternlight last night at two A.M. Stepping from the barn, he checked the sky-dull as tarnished silver, promising a gloomy, damp day. Women, he supposed, liked sun on their wedding days, but his surprise should cheer her up. He knew exactly when and how he’d present it to her, not until it was time to leave.

They met in the kitchen, feeling uncomfortable and anxious with each other. An odd start to a wedding day with the bride dressed in a blue chenille house robe and the groom in yesterday’s overalls. Their first glances were quick and guarded.

"Mornin’."

"Mornin’."

He brought in two pails of bathwater, set them on the stove and began building a fire.

"I suppose you were hopin’ for sun," he said with his back to her. "It would’ve been nice."

Smiling to himself, thinking again of his secret, he offered, "Maybe it’ll break up by the time we leave."

"It don’t hardly look like it, and I don’t know what I’ll do with the boys if it rains. If it does, should we wait till tomorrow?"

He glanced back over his shoulder. "You want to?"

Their eyes met briefly. "No."

Her answer made him smile inside as he headed for the chores. But at breakfast time the tension escalated. It was, after all, their wedding day, and at its end they’d be sharing a bed. But something more was bothering Will. He put off approaching the subject until the meal ended and Elly pushed back her chair as if to begin clearing the table.

"Elly… I…" He stammered to a stop, drying his palms on his thighs.

"What is it?" She paused, holding two plates.

He wasn’t a money-hungry man, but he suddenly understood greed with disarming clarity. He pressed his hands hard against his thighs and blurted out, "I don’t know if I got enough money for a license."

"There’s the egg money and what you got for selling the scrap metal."

"That’s yours."

"Don’t be silly. What will it matter after today?"

"A man should buy the license," he insisted, "and a ring."

"Oh… a ring." Her hands were in plain sight as she stood beside the table, holding the dirty dishes. He glanced at her left hand and she felt stupid for not having thought to take off her wedding band and leave it in her bureau drawer. "Well…" The word dwindled into silence while she pondered and came up with one possible solution. "I… I could use the same one."

His face set stubbornly as he rose, pulled his hat on low and lunged across the room toward the sink. "That wouldn’t be right."

She watched him gather soap, towels and bathwater and head for the door, pride stiffening his shoulders and adding force to his footsteps.

"What does it matter, Will?"

"It wouldn’t be right," he repeated, opening the back door. Half out, he turned back. "What time you wanna leave?"

"I have to get me and the boys ready to go and the dishes washed. And I suppose I should pack some sandwiches."

"An hour?"

"Well…"

"An hour and a half?"

"That should be fine."

"I’ll pick you up here. You wait in the house for me."

He felt like a fool. Some courtship. Some wedding morning. But he had exactly eight dollars and sixty-one cents to his name, and gold rings cost a damn sight more than that. It wasn’t only the ring. It was everything missing in the morning. Touches, smiles, yearning.

Kisses. Shouldn’t a bride and groom have trouble restraining themselves at a time like this? That’s how he always imagined it would be. Instead they’d scarcely glanced at each other, had discussed the weather and Will Parker’s financially embarrassed state.

In the barn he scrubbed his hide with a vengeance, combed his hair and donned freshly laundered clothes: jeans, white shirt, jean jacket, freshly oiled boots and his deformed cowboy hat, brushed for the occasion. Hardly suitable wedding apparel, but the best he could do. Outside thunder rumbled in the distance. Well, at least she didn’t have to worry about rain. He had that much to offer his bride this morning, though much of his earlier elation over the surprise had vanished.

In the house Eleanor was on her knees, searching for Donald Wade’s shoe under the bed while upon it he and Thomas imitated Madam, kicking and braying.

"Now settle down, boys. We don’t want to keep Will waitin’."

"Are we really goin’ for a ride in the big wagon?"

"I said so, didn’t I?" She caught a foot and started forcing the brown high-top shoe on. "Clear into Calhoun. But when we get to the courthouse you got to be good. Little boys got to be like mice in the corner during weddings, y’ understand?"

"But what’s weddings, Mama?"

"Why, I told you, honey, me and Will are gettin’ married."

"But what’s married?"

"Married is-" She paused thoughtfully, wondering exactly what this marriage would be. "Married is when two people say they want to live with each other for the rest of their lives. That’s what me and Will are gonna do."

"Oh."

"That’s all right with you, ain’t it?"

Donald Wade flashed a smile and nodded vigorously. "I like Will."

"And Will likes you, too. And you too, punkin." She touched Thomas’s nose. "Nothin’s gonna change after we’re married, ’cept…" The boys waited with their eyes on their mother. "’Cept y’ know how sometimes I let you come in with me at night-well, from now on there won’t be no room ’cause Will’s gonna be sleepin’ with me."

"He is?"

"Aha."

"Can’t we even come in when it thunders and lightnin’s?"

She pictured them four abreast beneath the quilts and wondered how Will would adjust to the demands of fatherhood. "Well, maybe when it thunders and lightnin’s." Thunder rumbled at that moment and Eleanor frowned at the window. "Come on. Will should be comin’ any minute." Distractedly she added, "Lord, I got a feelin’ we’re gonna be soaked before we get to any courthouse."

She helped the boys into jackets, donned her own coat and had just picked up the red sandwich tin from the kitchen cupboard when the thunder growled again, long and steady. She turned, glanced toward the door and cocked her head. Or was it thunder? Too unbroken, too high-pitched and drawing closer. She moved toward the back door just as Donald Wade opened it and a rusty Model A Ford rolled into the clearing with Will at the wheel.

"Glory be," Eleanor breathed.

"It’s Will! He gots a car!" Donald Wade tore off at a dead run, slamming the screen, yelling, "Where’d you get it, Will? We gonna ride in it?"

Will pulled up at the foot of the path and stepped out in his coarse wedding attire. Standing with a hand draped over the top of the car door, he ignored Donald Wade in favor of Eleanor, who came onto the porch in his favorite yellow dress covered by a short brown coat that wouldn’t close over her stomach. Her hair was pulled back in a neat tail and her face glowed with surprise.

"Well, you ain’t got a ring," he called, "but you got a jitney to ride to your wedding in. Come on."

With the sandwich tin in one hand and Baby Thomas on her free arm, she left the porch. "Where did you get it?" she asked, moving toward Will like a sleepwalker, picking up speed as she neared.

He let a grin quirk one corner of his mouth. "Out in the field. Been working on it whenever I could sneak in an hour here and there."

"You mean it’s one of the old junkers?"

"Well… not exactly one." With a touch at the back of his hat brim he tilted it well forward, his eyes following as she reached the Ford and circled it with a look of admiration on her face. "More like eight or ten of the junkers, a little bit of this one and a little bit of that one, held together with baling twine and Bazooka, but I think it’ll get us there and back all right."

She came full circle and smiled up into his face. "Will Parker, is there anything you can’t do?"

He relieved her of the red sandwich tin and handed it to Donald Wade, then plucked Thomas from her arms. "I know a little about engines," he replied modestly, though inside he glowed. With so few words she’d restored his exhilaration. "Get in."

"It’s actually running!" She laughed and clambered under the wheel to the far side while the idling engine shimmied the car seat.

"Of course it’s running. And we won’t have to worry about any rain. Here, take the young ’un." He handed Thomas inside, then swung Donald Wade onto the seat and followed, folding himself behind the wheel. Donald Wade stood on the seat, wedging himself as tightly against Will as possible. He laid a proprietary hand on Will’s wide shoulder. "We ridin’ to town in this?"

"That’s right, kemo sabe." Will put the car in gear. "Hang on." As they rolled away, the children giggled and Eleanor clutched the seat. Pleased, Will observed their expressions from the corner of his eye.

"But where did you get gasoline?"

"Only got enough to get us to town. Found it in the tanks out there and strained the rust out of it with a rag."

"And you fixed this all by yourself?"

"There were plenty of junkers to take parts from."

"But where’d you learn how?"

"Worked in a filling station in El Paso one time. Fellow there taught me a little about mechanics."

They turned around in a farmyard which was far neater than it had been two months ago. They motored down a driveway which two months ago had been unusable. They traveled in a car that two weeks ago had been a collection of scrap metal. Will couldn’t help feeling proud. The boys were entranced. Eleanor’s smile was as broad as a melon slice as she steadied Thomas on her knees.

"Like it?"

She turned shining eyes toward Will. "Oh, it’s a grand surprise. And my first time, too."

"You mean you never rode in a car before?" he asked, disbelievingly.

"Never. Glendon never got around to fixing any of ’em up. But I rode on his steel mule one time, down the orchard track and back." She shot him a sportive grin. "The noise like to shake m’ teeth outa my skull, though."

They laughed and the day lost its bleakness. Their smiles brought a gladness missing till now. While their gazes lingered longer than intended, the fact struck: they were chugging off to the courthouse to get married. Married. Husband and wife forever. Had they been alone, Will might have said something appropriate to the occasion, but Donald Wade moved, cutting off his view of Eleanor.

"We done good on the driveway huh, Will?" The boy cupped Will’s jaw, forcing his direct attention.

"We sure did, short stuff." He ruffled Donald Wade’s hair. "But I got to watch the road."

Yes, they’d done good. Guiding the wheel of the Model T, Will felt as he had the day he’d bought the candy bars and bluebird-heated and good inside, expansive and optimistic. In a few hours they would be his "family." Putting pleasure on their faces put pleasure on his own. And it suddenly didn’t matter so much that he had no gold ring to offer Eleanor.

Her elation dimmed, however, as they approached Whitney. When they passed the house with the drawn shades she stared straight ahead, refusing to glance at the place. Her lips formed a grim line and her hands tightened on Thomas’s hips.

Will wanted to say, I know about that house, Eleanor. It don’t matter to me. But a glance at her stiff pose made him bite back the words.

"Got to stop at the filling station," he mentioned, to distract her. "It’ll only take a minute."

The man at the station cast overt, speculative glances at Eleanor, but she stared straight ahead like one walking through a graveyard at midnight. The attendant gave Will the twice-over, too, and said, "Nasty weather brewin’, looks like."

Will only glanced at the sky.

"Feller’d be happy to have a car on a day like this," the attendant tried again while his eyes darted to Eleanor.

"Yup," Will replied.

"Goin’far?" the man inquired, obviously less interested in pumping gas than in gawking at Eleanor and trying to puzzle out who Will might be and why they were together.

"Nope," Will answered.

"Goin’ up Calhoun way?"

Will gave the man a protracted stare, then let his eyes wander to the gas pump. "Five gallons comin’ up."

"Oh!" The pump clicked off, Will paid 83 cents and returned to the car, leaving the attendant unenlightened.

When they were on their way again and had left Whitney behind, Eleanor relaxed.

"Someone you know?" Will inquired.

"I know ’em all and they all know me. I seen him gawkin’."

"Prob’ly ’cause you’re lookin’ right pretty this mornin’."

His words did the trick. She turned a wide-eyed look his way and her ears turned pink. Cheeks, too, before she transferred her attention to the view ahead.

"You don’t need to make up pretty words just ’cause it’s my weddin’ day."

"Wasn’t makin’ ’em up."

And somehow he felt better, having spoken his mind and given her a touch of what a bride deserves on her wedding day. Better yet, he’d made her forget the house with the picket fence and the gawking gas station attendant.

The ride took them through some of the prettiest country Will had ever seen-rolling hills and gurgling creeks, thick stands of pine and oaks just beginning to turn a faint yellow. Outside, the mist put a sheen on each leaf and rock and turned the roads a vibrant, glistening orange. Wet tree trunks appeared coal black against the pearl-gray sky. The road curved and looped, the elevation constantly dropping until they rounded a bend and saw Calhoun nestled below.

Situated in a long narrow valley, the lowest spot between Chattanooga and Atlanta, the town stretched out along the tracks of the L & N Railroad, which had spawned its growth. U.S. 41 became Wall Street, the main street of town. It paralleled the tracks and carried travelers into a business section that had taken on the same rangy shape as the steel rails themselves. The streets were old, wide, built in the days when mule and wagon had been the chief mode of transportation. Now there were more Chevrolets than mules, more Fords than wagons, and, as in Whitney, blacksmith shops doubling as filling stations.

"You know Calhoun?" Will inquired as they passed a row of neat brick houses on the outskirts.

"Know where the courthouse is. Straight ahead on Wall Street."

"Is there a five-and-dime somewhere?"

"A five-and-dime?" Eleanor flashed him a puzzled look but he watched the road beyond the radiator cap. "What do you want with a five-and-dime?"

"I’m gonna buy you a ring." He’d decided it somewhere between the compliment and Calhoun.

"What’s a five-and-dime, Mommy?" Donald Wade interrupted.

Eleanor ignored him. "Oh, Will, you don’t have-"

"I’m gonna buy you a ring, I said, then you can take his off."

His insistence sent a flare to her cheeks and she stared at his stubborn jaw until the warmth spread down to her heart. She turned away and said meekly, "I already did."

Will shot a glance at her left hand, still resting on the baby’s hip. It was true-the ring was gone. On the steering wheel his grip relaxed.

Donald Wade patted his mother’s arm, demanding, "What’s a five-and-dime, Mommy?"

"It’s a store that sells trinkets and things."

"Trinkets? Can we go there?"

"I reckon that’s where Will’s takin’ us first." Her eyes wandered to the driver and found him watching her. Their gazes locked, fascinated.

"Oh-boy!" Donald Wade knelt on the seat, balancing himself against the dashboard, staring at the town with unbridled fascination. "What’s that, Mommy?" He pointed. She didn’t hear and he whapped her arm four times. "Mommy, what’s that?"

"Better answer the boy," Will advised quietly, and turned his attention back to the street, releasing her to do the same.

"A water tower."

Baby Thomas repeated, "Wa-doo tow-woo."

"What’s that?" Donald Wade asked.

"A popcorn wagon."

"Pop-cone," the baby echoed.

"They sell it?"

"Yes, son."

"Goll-eee! Can we git some?"

"Not today, dear. We got to hurry."

He watched the wagon until it disappeared behind them and Will mentally tallied up the remainder of his money. Only six bucks, seventy-eight cents, and he had to buy a ring and a license yet.

"What’s that?"

"A theater."

"What’s a theater?"

"A place where they show movies."

"What’s a movie?"

"Well, it’s sort of a picture story that moves on a big screen."

"Can we see it?"

"No, honey. It costs money."

The marquee said Border Vigilantes,and Will noted how both Donald Wade’s and Eleanor’s eyes lingered on it as they passed. Six measly bucks and seventy-eight measly cents. What he wouldn’t do for full pockets right now.

Just then he spotted what he was looking for, a brick-fronted building with a sign announcing, WISTER’S VARIETY-HOUSEWARES, TOYS & SUNDRIES.

He parked the car and reached for Donald Wade. "Come on, kemo sabe, I’ll show you a five-and-dime."

Inside, they walked the aisles on creaking wood floors between six rows of pure enchantment. Donald Wade and Thomas pointed at everything and squirmed to get down and touch-toy cars and trucks and tractors made of brightly painted metal; rubber balls of gay reds and yellows; marbles in woven sacks; bubble gum and candy; six-shooters and holsters and cowboy hats like Will’s.

"I want one!" Donald Wade demanded. "I want a hat like Will’s!"

"Hat," parroted Thomas.

"Maybe next time," Will replied, his heart breaking. At that moment the only thing he wanted worse than a ring for Eleanor was enough cash to buy two black cardboard cowboy hats.

They came to the costume jewelry and stopped. The display was dusty, spread on rose taffeta between glass dividers. There were identification bracelets; baby necklaces shaped like tiny gold crosses; little girls’birthday sets-rings, bracelets and necklaces-all dipped in gold paint, set with brightly colored glass gems; women’s earrings of assorted shapes and colors; and beside them, on a blue velvet card, a sign that said, "Friendship Rings-19¢."

Will studied the cheap things, stung at having to offer his bride a wedding band that would surely turn her finger green before a week was up. But he had little choice. He set Donald Wade down. "You take Thomas’s hand and don’t let him touch anything, all right?"

The boys headed back toward the toys, leaving Will and Eleanor standing self-consciously side by side. He slipped his hands into his hind pockets and stared at the fake-silver rings with their machine-stamped lattice designs covered with crudely formed roses. He reached for one, plucked it from the card and studied it glumly.

"I never cared much before whether I had money or not, but today I wish my name was Rockerfeller."

"I’m glad it ain’t, ’cause then I wouldn’t be marrying you."

He looked down into her eyes-eyes as green as the fake peridots in the August birth rings-and it struck Will that she was one of the kindest persons he’d ever met. How like her to try to make him feel good at a moment like this. "It’ll probably turn your finger green."

"It don’t matter, Will," she said softly. "I shouldn’t have offered to use my old one again. It was thoughtless of me."

"I’d give you gold if I could, Eleanor. I want you to know that."

"Oh, Will…" She reached out and covered his hand consolingly as he went on.

"And I’d take them two to the movies, and afterwards maybe buy ’em an ice cream cone at the drugstore, or popcorn at that popcorn wagon like they begged for."

"I brought the egg and cream money, Will. We could still do that."

His gaze shifted to the ring. "I’m the one that should be payin’, don’t you see?"

She released his hand and took the ring to try it on. "You got to learn not to be so proud, Will. Let’s see if it fits." The ring was too big, so she chose another. The second one fit and she spread her fingers in the air before them, as proud as if she wore a glittering diamond.

"Looks fine, doesn’t it?" She wiggled the ring finger. "And I do like roses."

"It looks cheap."

"Don’t you dare say that about my weddin’ ring, Will Parker," she scolded him with mock haughtiness, slipping it off and depositing it in his palm. "The sooner you pay for it the sooner we can get on down to the courthouse and speak our words."

She turned away blithely, but he caught her arm and spun her around.

"Eleanor, I…" He looked into her eyes and didn’t know what to say. A lump of appreciation clotted his throat. The value of the ring honestly made no difference to her.

She cocked her head. "What?"

"You never complain about anything, do you?"

It was subtle praise, but no poetry could have pleased her more.

"We got a lot to be thankful for, Will Parker. Come on." Her smile flashed as she grabbed his hand. "Let’s go get married."

They found the Gordon County courthouse with no trouble, a red brick Victorian edifice on a crest of land framed by sidewalks, green grass and azalea bushes. Will carried Donald Wade; Eleanor, Thomas as they ascended a bank of steps and crossed the lawn, gazing up at the rounded turret on the right, and on the left, a square cenotaph to General Charles Haney Nelson. It sat sturdily on thick brick arches culminating in a pointed clock tower that overlooked the chimneyed roof. The mist was cold on their uplifted faces, then disappeared as they mounted the second set of steps beneath the arches and entered a marble-floored hall that smelled of cigar smoke.

"This way." Eleanor’s voice rang through the empty hall, though she spoke quietly. Turning right, she led Will to the office of the Ordinary of the Court.

Inside, at an oak desk beyond a spindled rail, a thin, middle-aged woman-her nameplate read Reatha Stickner-stopped typing and tipped her head down to peer over rimless octagonal spectacles.

"May I help you?" She had a cheerless, authoritarian voice. It echoed in the barren, curtainless room.

"Yes, ma’am," Will replied, stopping just inside the door. "We’d like to get a marriage license."

The woman’s sharp gaze brushed from Donald Wade to Baby Thomas to Eleanor’s stomach, then back to Will. He firmly grasped Eleanor’s elbow and ushered her toward the breast-high counter. The woman pushed away from her desk and shuffled toward them with an extreme limp that dipped one shoulder and left one foot dragging. They met on opposite sides of the barrier and Reatha Stickner fished inside the neck of her dress to pull up an underwear strap that had slipped down while she walked.

"Are you residents of Georgia?" From beneath the counter she drew a black-bound book the size of a tea tray and clapped it down between them without glancing up again.

"I am," Eleanor spoke up. "I live in Whitney."

"Whitney. And how long have you lived there?" The black cover slapped open, revealing forms separated by carbons.

"All my life."

"I’ll need proof of residency."

Will thought, Oh no, not again.But Eleanor surprised him by depositing Thomas on the high counter and producing a folded paper from her coat pocket. "Got my first wedding license here. You gave it to me, so it should be okay."

The woman examined Eleanor minutely, without a change of expression-pursed lips, haughty eyebrows-then turned her attention to the license while Thomas reached for a stamp pad. Eleanor grabbed his hand and held it while he objected vocally and struggled to pull it free.

"Don’t touch," she whispered, but of course, he grew stubborn and insisted, louder than before. Will set Donald Wade on the floor and plucked the baby off the counter to hold him. Donald Wade immediately tried to climb Will’s leg, complaining, "I can’t see. Lift me up." The boy’s fingertips curled over the countertop and he tried to climb it with his feet. Will gave him a yank to straighten him up. "Be good," he ordered, bending momentarily. Donald Wade wilted against the counter, pouting.

Reatha Stickner cast a disapproving glance at the faces visible above her counter, then moved away to fetch a pen and inkholder. She had to adjust her strap again before writing in the wide book.

"Eleanor Dinsmore-middle name?"

"I ain’t got one."

Though the clerk refused to lift her eyes, the pen twitched in her fingers. "Same address?"

"Yes…" Imitating Will, Eleanor added belatedly, "… ma’am."

"And are there any encumbrances against you getting married?"

Eleanor fixed a blank look on the woman’s spectacles. Reatha Stickner glanced up impatiently and said, "Well?"

Eleanor turned to Will for help.

Will felt his hackles rise and spoke sharply. "She’s not married and she’s not a Nazi. What other encumbrances are there?"

Everything was silent for three seconds while the stern-faced clerk fixed Will with a disapproving glare. Finally, she cleared her throat, dipped her pen and loftily returned her attention to the application blank. "And how about you? Are you a Nazi?" It was asked without a hint of humor while she gave the impression that she might have looked up but for the fact that the person she was serving wasn’t worthy.

"No, ma’am. Just an ex-convict." Will felt a deep thrill of satisfaction as her head snapped up and a white line appeared around her lips. He reached casually into his shirt pocket for his release papers. "Think you have to see these."

Her strap fell down and had to be hitched up again as she accepted Will’s papers. She examined them at length, gave him another sour glance and wrote on the application.

"Parker, William Lee. Address?"

"Same as hers."

The clerk’s eyes, magnified by her glasses, rolled up for another lengthy visual castigation. In the silence Donald Wade’s footsteps could be heard climbing the desk wall as he hung on it and gazed at the door, upside-down.

Will thought, Go to it, Donald Wade!

Primly, the woman wrote on, taking the information from Will’s papers. "How long have you been at this address?" she asked, while her pen scratched loudly.

"Two months."

Her eyes flickered to Eleanor’s bulbous stomach, the thin band of yellow showing behind the brown coat. Her chin drew in, creating two folds beneath it. She applied her official signature, and ordered coldly, "That’ll be two dollars."

Will stifled a sigh of relief and dug the money from his breast pocket. The clerk dipped below the counter, came up with an official rubber stamp and with curt motions stamped the license, tore it out, slapped the book closed-fap! sktch! whp!-and brandished the paper across the counter.

Stone-faced, but seething, Will accepted it and tipped his hat. "Much obliged, ma’am. Now, who marries us?"

Her eyes drifted over his blue denim work clothes, then dropped to the rubber stamp. "Judge Murdoch."

"Murdoch." When she looked up, Will gave her a cool nod. "We’ll find him."

Acidly she hurried to inform them, "He has a full docket this morning. You should have made arrangements in advance."

Will settled Baby Thomas more comfortably on his arm, peeled Donald Wade off the counter, headed him toward the door, then clasped Eleanor’s elbow and guided her from the office without acknowledging Reatha Stickner’s high-handed order. His grip was biting and his footsteps unnaturally lengthy. In the corridor, he grated, "Goddamn old biddy. I wanted to slap her when she looked at you like that. What right’s she got to look down her nose at you!"

"It don’t matter, Will. I’m used to it. But what about the judge? What if he’s too busy?"

"We’ll wait."

"But she said he-"

"We’ll wait, I said!" His footsteps pounded harder. "How long can it take him to mutter a few words and sign a paper?" Coming up short, he stopped Eleanor. "Just a minute." He stuck his head inside an open doorway and asked, "Where do we find Judge Murdoch?"

"Second floor, halfway down the hall, the double doors on your left."

With the same stubborn determination, Will herded them to the second floor, through the double doors, where they found themselves in a courtroom presently in session. They stood uncertainly in the aisle between two flanks of benches while voices from up front reverberated beneath the vaulted ceiling. An officer in a tan uniform left his station beside the doors. "You’ll have to be seated if you want to stay," he whispered.

Will turned, ready to do mortal injury to anyone who got uppity with them again. But the man was no more than twenty-five, had a pleasant face and polite manner. "We want the judge to marry us but we don’t have an appointment."

"Step outside," the deputy invited, opening one of the doors and holding it while they filed into the hall. Joining them, he checked his watch. "He’s got a pretty full day, but you can wait outside his chambers if you want. See if he can squeeze you in."

"We’ll do that. Appreciate it if you’d head us in the right direction," Will returned tightly.

"Right this way." He led them to the end of the hall and pointed to a narrower corridor leading off at a right angle. "I have to stay in the courtroom, but you’ll find it easily. His name is above the door. Just have a seat on the bench across from it."

Neither Will nor Eleanor owned a watch. They sat on an eight-foot wooden bench, staring at a maple door for what seemed hours. They read and reread the brass plaque above it: ALDON P. MURDOCH, DISTRICT COURT JUDGE. The boys tired of climbing over the curved arms of the bench and grew fractious. Donald Wade badgered, "Mommy, let’s go-o-o." Thomas started whining and flailing his feet against the seat. Finally he fell asleep, sprawled on the bench with his head in Eleanor’s lap, leaving Will to keep Donald Wade occupied.

The door opened and two men bustled out, talking animatedly. Will jumped to his feet and raised a finger, but the pair marched away, deep in discussion, without sparing a glance for the four on the bench.

The wait continued; Eleanor got a backache and had to find the bathroom. Thomas woke up with an ugly disposition and Donald Wade whined that he was hungry. When Eleanor returned, Will ran to the car for their sandwiches. They were sitting on the bench eating them, trying to convince Baby Thomas to give up crying and try a bite, when one of the two men returned.

This time he stopped voluntarily. "Got a cranky one there, huh?" He smiled indulgently at Thomas.

"Judge Murdoch?" Will leaped to his feet, whipping his hat from his head.

"That’s right." He was gray-haired, rotund and had a jowls like a bloodhound. But though he wore the air of a busy man, he seemed approachable. "I’m Will Parker. And this is Eleanor Dinsmore. We were wondering if you’d have time to marry us today."

Murdoch extended a hand. "Parker." He nodded to Eleanor. "Miss Dinsmore." He gave each of the boys a grandfatherly glance, then assessed Eleanor thoughtfully. "You were here when I left for lunch, weren’t you?"

"Yessir," she answered.

"How long before that?"

"I don’t know, sir, we ain’t got no watch."

The judge shot a cuff and checked his own. "Court reconvenes in ten minutes."

Eleanor rushed on. "We ain’t got no phone either, or we’d’ve called to make an appointment. We just drove up from Whitney, thinkin’ it’d be all right."

Again the judge smiled at the boys, then at the sandwich in Eleanor’s hand. "Looks like you brought your witnesses with you."

"Yessir… I mean, no sir. These are my boys. That’s Donald Wade… and this here is Baby Thomas."

The judge leaned down and extended a hand. "How do you do, Donald Wade." The youngster glanced up uncertainly at Will and waited for his nod before hesitantly giving his hand to the judge. Murdoch performed the handshake with gravity and a half-smile. Next he offered Thomas a wink and a chuckle. "You boys have had a long enough morning. How would you like a jelly bean?"

Donald Wade inquired, "What’s a jelly bean?"

"Well, come into my office and I’ll show you."

Again Donald Wade looked to Will for guidance.

"Go ahead."

To the adults, Judge Murdoch advised, "I think I can squeeze you in. It won’t be fancy, but it’ll be legal. Step inside."

It was a crowded room with a single north window and more books than Will had ever seen anywhere except in the Whitney library. He glanced around, his hat forgotten against his thigh, while the judge gave his attention first to the boys. "Come around here." He moved behind a cluttered desk and from a lower drawer extracted a cigar box labeled "Havana Jewels." The boys peered inside as he opened it and announced, "Jelly beans." Without objection they allowed the district court judge to set them side-by-side on his chair and roll it close to the desk, where he placed the cigar box on an open law book. "I keep them hidden because I don’t want my wife to catch me eating them." He patted his portly stomach. "She says I eat too many of them." As the boys reached for the candy, he warned with a twinkle in his eye, "Now be sure you save some for me."

From a coat tree he took a black robe, inquiring of Will, "Do you have a license?"

"Yessir."

A door opened on his left and the same young deputy who’d directed Will and Eleanor to the judge’s chambers stuck his head inside. "One o’clock, your honor."

"Come in here, Darwin, and close the door."

"Pardon me, sir, but we’re runnin’ a little late."

"So we are. They won’t go anyplace, not until I say they can."

As the young man followed orders, the judge buttoned his robe and performed introductions. "Darwin Ewell, this is Eleanor Dinsmore and Will Parker. They’re going to be married and we’ll need you to act as witness."

The deputy shook their hands, wearing a pleasant smile. "Pleasure, sir… ma’am."

The judge indicated the boys. "And the two with the jelly beans are Donald Wade and Baby Thomas."

Darwin laughed as he observed the pair selecting another color from the cigar box, paying no attention to the others in the room. In moments the judge stood before Will and Eleanor, examining their license, then placing it on the desk behind him and crossing his hands over his mounded stomach.

"I’ve got books I could read from," he informed them with a benevolent expression on his face, "but they always sound a little stilted and formal to me so I prefer to do this my own way. The books always manage to miss some of the most important things. Like do you know each other well enough to believe what you’re doing is the right thing?"

Taken by surprise at the unorthodox beginning, Will was a little slow to reply. He glanced at Eleanor first, then back at the judge.

"Yessir."

"Yessir," Eleanor repeated.

"How long have you known each other?"

Each waited for the other to answer. Finally Will did. "Two months."

"Two months…" The judge seemed to ponder, then added, "I knew my wife exactly three and a half weeks before I proposed to her. We’ve been married thirty-two years-happily, I might add. Do you love each other?"

This time they stared straight at the judge. Both of them turned slightly pink.

"Yessir," came Will’s answer.

"Yessir," Eleanor’s echoed, more softly. Will’s heart thundered, while he wondered if it was true.

"Good… good. Now the times when I want you to remember that are the times when you’ll be at cross purposes-and nobody who remains married for thirty-two, or fifty-two or even two years can avoid them. But disagreements can become arguments, then battles, then wars, unless you learn to compromise. It’s the wars you’ll have to avoid, and you do that by remembering what you’ve just told me. That you love each other. All right?" He waited.

"Yessir," they replied in unison.

"Compromise is the cornerstone of marriage. Can you work things out and reach compromises instead of giving way to anger?"

"Yessir."

"Yessir." Eleanor’s eyes couldn’t quite meet the judge’s as she remembered the egg running down Will’s face. Then honesty got the best of her and she added, "I’ll try real hard."

The judge smiled, then nodded approvingly. "And you’ll work hard for Eleanor, Will?"

"Yessir, I already do."

"And will you provide a good home for Will, Eleanor?"

"Yessir, I already do."

To the judge’s credit, he didn’t bat an eye.

"I take it the children are yours by a former marriage, is that right?"

She nodded.

"And the one you’re expecting-that makes three." He turned his attention to Will. "Three children is a grave responsibility to take on, and in the future there may be more. Do you accept responsibility for them, along with that of being a husband and provider for Eleanor?"

"Yessir."

"You’re both young yet. In your lives you may meet others who attract you. When that happens, I exhort you to recall this day and what your feelings were for each other as you stood before me, to remember your vows of fidelity and remain true to one another. Would that be hard for you?"

Will thought of Lula. "No, it wouldn’t."

Eleanor thought of the jeers she’d received from boys in school and how Will was the only one since Glendon who’d treated her kindly. "No, not at all."

"Then, let’s seal it with a promise-to love each other, to remain true to each other, to provide love and material care for each other and for all the children entrusted to you, to work hard for one another, practice patience, forgiveness and understanding, and treat each other with respect and dignity for the rest of your lives. Do you so promise, William Lee Parker?"

"I do."

"And do you so promise, Eleanor Dinsmore?"

"I do."

"Are there rings?"

"Yessir." Will found the dime-store ring in his breast pocket. "Just one."

The judge seemed unsurprised by its obvious cheapness. "Put it on her finger now and join right hands."

Will reached for Eleanor’s hand and slid the ring partially over her knuckle. Their eyes met briefly, then skittered downward as he held her hand loosely. Judge Murdoch continued, "Let this ring be a symbol of your constancy and devotion. Let it remind you, William, who gives it, and you, Eleanor, who wears it, that from this day until you’re parted by death you will remain forever one, inseparable. Now, by the power invested in me by the sovereign state of Georgia, I pronounce you husband and wife."

It had been so quick, so undramatic. It didn’t feel done. And if done, not real. Will and Eleanor stood before the judge like a pair of tree stumps.

"Is that it?" Will inquired.

Judge Murdoch smiled. "All but the kiss." Then he twisted around to sign the marriage certificate on the desk behind him.

The pair stared at Murdoch’s shoulders but didn’t move. On the chair the boys munched jelly beans. From the courtroom came the murmur of voices. On the stiff paper the pen scratched while Deputy Ewell watched expectantly.

The judge dropped his pen and turned back to find the newlyweds standing stiffly, shoulder to shoulder.

"Well…" he prompted.

Their faces bright with color, Will and Eleanor turned toward each other. She lifted her face self-consciously and he looked down likewise.

"My court is waiting," Judge Murdoch admonished softly.

With his heart racing, Will placed his hands lightly on Eleanor’s arms and bent to touch her lips briefly. They were warm and open, as if in surprise. He got a glimpse of her eyes at close range-also open, as his own were. Then he straightened, ending the uncomfortable moment as they faced the judge self-consciously.

"Congratulations, Mr. Parker." Judge Murdoch pumped Will’s hand. "Mrs. Parker." And Eleanor’s. As he pronounced her new name Eleanor’s discomfort intensified. Heat climbed her body and her cheeks burned hotter.

Judge Murdoch handed the marriage certificate to Will. "I wish you many years of happiness, and now I’d better get back to my courtroom before they start beating on my door." He turned toward it in a flurry of black robes and paused with a hand on the knob. "You have a fine pair of boys there-so long, boys!" With one last wave, he disappeared. Darwin Ewell, also due back in court, wished them luck and hastily ushered them out.

It had taken less than five minutes from the time they’d entered the judge’s chambers until they found themselves in the hall again, united for life. The judge’s whirlwind pace left them both feeling disoriented but scarcely married. It had been startlingly unceremonious; they hadn’t even been aware that the first questions were part of the judge’s unorthodox rite. It had ended much the same-no pomp, no pageantry, only a simple pronunciation beneath clasped hands, and-bango!-back in the hall. If it hadn’t been for the kiss, they might not believe a marriage had taken place at all.

"Well," Will said breathlessly with a mystified laugh. "That was that."

Eleanor’s perplexed gaze remained on the closed door. "I guess it was. But… so quick."

"Quick, but legal."

"Yes… but…" She lifted dubious eyes to Will and thrust her head forward. "But do you feel married?"

Unexpectedly, he laughed. "Not exactly. But we must be. He called you Mrs. Parker."

She lifted her left hand and gazed at it disbelievingly. "So I am. Mrs. Will Parker."

The belated impact struck them full force. Mr. and Mrs. Will Parker.They absorbed the fact with all its attendant implications while their eyes were drawn to one another as if by polaric force. He thought about kissing her again, the way he wanted to. And she wondered what it would be like. But neither of them dared. In time they realized how long they’d been staring. Eleanor grew flustered and let her gaze drop. Will chuckled and scratched his nose.

"I think we should celebrate," he announced.

"How?" she asked, reaching down for Baby Thomas. Will nudged her aside and hoisted Thomas onto his arm.

"Well, if my arithmetic is right, I still have five dollars and fifty-nine cents. I think we should take the boys to the movie."

Excitement splashed across Eleanor’s face. "Really?"

Donald Wade began jumping up and down, clapping. "Yeah! Yeah! The movie! Take us to the movie, Mommy, pleeeease!" He clutched Eleanor’s hand.

Will took Eleanor’s free elbow, guiding her down the hall. "I don’t know, Donald Wade," he teased, turning a crooked grin on his wife’s eager face. "It looks to me like we might have some trouble convincing your mama."

Then Mr. and Mrs. William Lee Parker-and family-left the courthouse smiling.