Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Matt
Reverend DickPic .
That was a new one.
Being a social media influencer came with taking a lot of crap from people, including strange nicknames, but Nessa’s was a unique one. He had to give her that.
“God’s Gift” was given to him in a comment on one of his earlier videos, when he decided to be open about being a UU minister. He never chose it, but you can’t control hashtags. Once a few users started tagging his work with #godsgift, it all went from there.
Thank goodness Nessa wasn’t on TikTok hashtagging him right now.
Caught up in her weirdness, he didn’t have a chance to process how excited he was to see her. Worlds colliding like this made their one-night stand feel even more special. When she’d told him she was in event management, he hadn’t thought of weddings .
Now here she was, directing the bride’s father around a row of chairs, talking to a groomsman, pointing something out to a guy working the sound system. With each maneuver, she stood tall, her slim frame graceful and certain.
“Reverend DickPic?”
Turning in horror toward being called that , he found the bride smiling at him. “Reverend Draper?”
Draper. She said Draper .
“Right. Yes. Of course. And please, call me Matt.”
Okay, the sacrament of marriage. Serious business. Focus up, Matt.
Striding up the aisle of herbs, the smell of which reminded him of roast chicken, he tried to clear his head. You've done this a hundred times. All you have to do tonight is tell them where to stand, what they'll be expected to say, the order of service. You can think about her later.
"Sorry, everyone–we were just reviewing some, uh, logistical concerns. Are we ready to get started?"
Everyone was. The event planner shepherded them all off to their starting positions and a recording of the processional that would be played the next day came over the sound system. Jake Hopper and his best man appeared in front of Matt, looking a bit tentative, and he pointed to their assigned spots in front of him. The ushers filed in behind them. All the men turned automatically to watch the parade of bridesmaids, but the music cut off abruptly and no bridesmaids materialized.
The guys shrugged, some pulling out their phones to check messages, and Matt got the impression that this wasn't their first rodeo.
"How was the bachelor weekend?" he asked Jake. "Where did you go?"
"The Bahamas, Baker's Bay–it was amazing." Jake's eyes lit up, and the best man nodded in enthusiastic agreement.
"The golf course was un-freakin'-believable," he chimed in, except he didn’t say freakin’ . "Oh, sorry, Father."
"Not a problem," Matt replied, adjusting his glasses. "And you can call me Matt."
The best man looked at him closely for the first time, and his eyes narrowed.
"Wait. You’re super familiar. Aren't you the guy in those videos on –"
The music started up again, and the first bridesmaid burst out of the door. Actually, she stepped out fairly normally, but between her flowered dress, her long blonde hair, and her thousand-watt smile, the effect was the same as a burst. Matt was immediately and entirely forgotten by all of the groomsmen.
This gave him some time to gather his thoughts, which should have been centered on the deeply meaningful ceremony he was about to lead. Joining two individuals to create a new family was one of his favorite parts of his life's work.
Ministry can be a long game, and results hard to quantify, but weddings are instant gratification.
That is not to say that he didn't take them very seriously, of course. A wedding might be simple joy, but marriage is a long game of its own, and results can be equally hard to predict.
If he didn't already know the couple, he made a real effort to do so, spending time with them to learn what had brought them together, what they loved about each other, hearing about their hopes and dreams. Matt always tried to shine the couple's bright love out onto the people gathered for the service, and have it reflected back onto the newlyweds by the love that the congregation felt for them and for their own partners and families. It was an affirmation of life, and everyone in attendance was the better for it.
Emily and Jake were good people, loving and thoughtful, committed to each other, to their community, and to the world. Life had been very good to them, but they did not take it for granted. They understood that they were blessed and they gave back. There was much here to celebrate and be thankful for.
Unfortunately, all Matt could think about in this moment was the way the moonlight had fallen across Nessa's shoulder in bed, how her soft laughter had sounded so delighted, how her hair had smelled when he woke up in the morning with his nose buried in it.
This was not good. This was not spiritual.
This was undeniably carnal .
Divinity school wasn't all theology. He had taken classes in how to write and deliver a powerful sermon; how to bring comfort to those in emotional or physical distress; ways to think about birth and death and the concept of eternity. Sadly, no course had been offered on what to do when you were supposed to be performing a sacred rite but you could not get your mind off…
Well.
The bridesmaids were now lined up to his right, ushers to his left. Nessa was nowhere in sight. The recorded music stopped, then restarted after a slight pause as Emily and Mr. Barr emerged from the house. Even though it was just the rehearsal, this was the big dramatic moment, and the entire wedding party was angled to watch them, almost by muscle memory.
Except the bridesmaid in the flowered dress. She was staring openly at Matt, her glossy lips parted slightly.
"Is anything wrong?" he asked in a stage whisper.
Leaning forward, she whispered back, "Are you, like, a priest?"
"I'm a minister. Unitarian Universalist.” In an effort to keep his voice down, he had taken a step toward her.
"Unitarian…" Frowning slightly, she appeared to be searching her memory bank for a framework for this information, and coming up with nothing. As he moved back into position, he saw Nessa at the far end of the courtyard, watching him with a neutral expression.
The bridesmaid began conferring with the woman next to her, heads together.
Looking back at Nessa, Matt saw that Ranney had returned sooner than expected. Mother and daughter, huh? He could see a resemblance.
The two of them turned and headed into the house, disappearing from view just as Emily and her father arrived in front of him, closely followed by the event planner and her assistant. He wasn't completely sure of Nessa's role here, although he'd officiated at enough weddings by now to have heard of Wedding Protectors.
Is it some kind of security function? he wondered. She seems too small for that, but she's definitely in good shape… and then he was remembering in exquisite detail what kind of shape she was in, and that was exactly what he was trying not to do.
And at the rate this was going, he would need to strategically place the Bible in his hand like a fourteen-year-old giving a book report in class.
His distracted brain realized that the event planner–Lesley was her name, maybe?–had asked him a question and was waiting for an answer.
"I'm sorry?" Unlike Nessa, Lesley looked like she was ready for pretty much any development, in her stretchy black dress and flat-soled canvas shoes.
"I said, could I ask you to step back five paces, Father? We don't want Dad to trip over Emily's dress when he takes his seat."
"Oh, right, of course. And it's Matt, by the way. I’m not a priest.”
"I know. Thanks."
"Am I in the wrong seat, Lesley?” Mrs. Barr asked. "Maybe I should move over one to the left so Steve doesn't have to step across me?"
As she moved sideways to demonstrate, one spike heel sank into the grass, her ankle twisted, and she went down in a pile of pale blue cotton voile.
"Ow!" she cried in surprise and pain, and her husband leaped to her side. Wrapping his arms around her midsection, he attempted to lift her, but she outweighed him by a good twenty pounds. All onlookers were rooted to their spots in alarm, watching him struggle. Even capable Lesley stood stock still, gaping.
Pulling off his glasses, Matt set them on top of his bible on the grass. In four long strides, he was beside Mrs. Barr, picking her up as easily as if she were a kitten and setting her on a chair.
"My ankle," she moaned. "I think it's broken."
Kneeling in front of her, he touched it gently.
"Ow!"
The fuss must have been visible from the house, because suddenly Ranney was kneeling next to him.
"911?" she asked him tersely.
"I think so. It's already swelling." Looking up at Mrs. Barr, he said, "Does this hurt?" His fingers pressed the soft tissue on the side of her ankle.
"A little bit."
"How about this?" Now he touched directly over the bone.
"OWWW!"
"911," he told Ranney.
Nessa, who was standing behind her mother, phone to her ear, began giving someone the address.
"Why are you here? Where's Pinky?" Mrs. Barr asked Ranney, the beginnings of hysteria in her voice.
"The animal hospital decided to keep her overnight for observation." Ranney's tone was reassuring. "Just to be on the safe side."
"Mom?" Emily asked, voice shaky with tears.
"Now don't you worry, sweetheart, I'll have them give me a shot of Toradol and I'll be right back. Stand up, Emily, you're wrinkling your dress." Looking around, she spotted Nessa. "Shoes," she said, and Nessa understood immediately.
"Flats?"
"Call Arden at Neiman's. She'll send something over."
"On it."
"And one of those pretty canes, I don't know where you buy them."
"I'll find out."
"Stephen, you stay here," she instructed her husband. "You need to rehearse. Start the dinner without me."
For the next ten minutes, Emily argued with her mother as Ranney brought an ice pack from the standard Wedding Protectors First Aid kit and Nessa stayed away from him.
Soon, the EMTs were bringing in the stretcher and loading her onto it, much as Pinky had been loaded into her carrier an hour and a half ago.
"Video everything!" she called to Nessa as they wheeled her out. "I'll be right back!"
"Okay, let's take this from the top," Lesley directed. "Everyone back inside. Bridesmaids, be careful walking on the lawn. Keep your weight on your toes!"
Left alone momentarily, Matt put his glasses back on, picked up his bible, and assumed ready position. Determined to control his thoughts this time, he replayed game five of the 2018 World Series in his head. Sixth inning, Mookie hits a home run–
No good. Nessa was around here somewhere, and instead of the Red Sox announcer, he heard her voice in his memory, murmuring in his ear, purring with pleasure, crying out…
Damn it.
Music swelled again, and it wasn’t the only thing swelling.
The groom and groomsmen reappeared, the bridesmaids burst out as before, the rehearsal went on. Sighing, he reminded himself that this was supposed to be fun, not torture.
And it was, kinda. He was invited to stay for the dinner, which he did, although he kept one eye out for Nessa the entire time, without any luck.
"So," the interested bridesmaid said over the apricot tart, "is this like one of those one-day-only wedding-officiant licenses that you can get online? Because my friend says you're God's Gift on TikTok. You don't look that much like him to me — maybe it’s the glasses? — but you sure don't look like a minister. I'm from Louisiana, and that's in the Bible Belt, and I've never heard of Unitarians. My friend says you don't believe in Jesus, but how can you be a real minister and not believe in Jesus?"
"Yes, I'm a real minister, and yes, Unitarian Universalists recognize Jesus. It's just a little bit of a different way of looking at his role."
"Huh. Well, I'm Catholic, and we've had that all figured out for a really long time." She smiled her blinding smile. "So are you? God's Gift, I mean?"
"That name–that meant something else when I started doing the videos. It was a grad school project, actually. Sort of. The idea was to make young people feel appreciation and joy for the bodies God gave them, not shame, and also empower them to make positive changes in their lives. What I meant was that your body is God's gift to you. As a side benefit of that, I made some positive changes to my own body, and then I kind of got a different audience. They used the name to mean me." This was an explanation and a disclaimer he had given so many times, he had it memorized. "But the money those videos bring in funds important community projects, so I go along. I also try to make the point that your body is perfect without using any substances, including steroids."
"How many followers do you have?"
"Depends on the platform," he answered vaguely. It varied, and anyway, he really wanted to change the subject. "So what do you do, ah…?"
"Jenna. I'm in retail, online home furnishings. See, we have something in common–we both change people's lives for the better!"
"Uh, right." Oh boy. Nessa had been invisible for an hour and a half, but as Jenna leaned in and laid her hand on his forearm, there she was, ten feet away.
"Would you excuse me? I just need to have a conversation with someone about–"
"Logistical concerns?" Jenna glanced at Nessa and lifted a perfect eyebrow. "Sure, no problem."
But by the time he disengaged, stood, and turned to where Nessa was standing, there was only thin air.
"For Pete's sake," he muttered. Obviously, she was here to provide a service and therefore be as unobtrusive as possible, but come on. Momentum carried him out of the dining room and on through one big, empty room after another, ending up in the kitchen, where the catering staff looked up briefly and without interest.
On a kitchen chair sat his backpack. As a kind of service provider himself, neither guest nor employee, he'd left it there instead of in the front hall coat closet, and this seemed like a good time to check his phone for messages. But when he reached for the zipper, he saw that a silver metal go-cup was tucked in next to the backpack.
Lifting off the lid, he pulled out the note, a white card with the initials VMM printed in aqua. It was folded to fit inside.
Thank you for the coffee. Sorry for the dick pic accusation. Sorry we broke your celibacy vow, too.
“Celibacy, yes. Vow, no,” he muttered, unsure whether to laugh or throw the cup across the room. The first woman he’d slept with in ages and she dropped him like a hot potato.
Ouch.
Tomorrow’s wedding was going to be so much fun.