Chapter Twenty
Twenty
“I didn’t take you for someone who weeps at weddings, pixie stick.”
Marly jumped. She’d been hiding behind the outbuildings, trying to find some privacy to pull herself together.
Dad had taken Mom inside somewhere; no one else seemed to realize that something was terribly wrong.
The garden was full of chatter and music and the clinking of glasses.
The June day was sparkling fresh and scented by roses.
But Marly felt that nothing would ever be good again.
“It’s awfully sappy of you,” Freddie teased, but she could see he looked concerned.
Marly gave Freddie de Marche a sharp look, trying to hide her real feelings, which were hot and hurting. “All the best people cry at weddings.”
He pulled his handkerchief from his pocket. “Here, I came prepared in case I got a case of the weeps too.”
She took it from him and turned her back on him while she dabbed at her eyes.
“Those didn’t look like tears of joy. Care to tell me what’s wrong?” he asked gently.
“No.”
“Fair enough.” He leaned against the outbuilding at her side and looked up at the sky above. “Seems like everyone’s getting married these days. You know my sister’s getting hitched this summer too. My mom’s already weeping.”
“Are you going to ask Cilla to marry you?” Marly blurted. She hadn’t meant to. It had just come out.
“God, no.”
The vehemence in his voice made Marly’s heart explode in her chest like someone had filled it with gunpowder. “Why not?”
“Because I don’t want to marry Priscilla.”
Marly turned back toward him, leaning her shoulder against the outbuilding and facing him front on. “Well, why not?” She needed to know.
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know?” Marly was astonished. “You’ve been dating her for three years, even if you haven’t pinned her.”
“I haven’t pinned anyone,” Freddie said, sounding put out. “I never made any promises.”
“Dating someone for three years is a kind of promise,” she scolded.
“No, it’s not. It’s movies and walks and dinner. Not marriage.”
“Well, what’s so wrong with marriage?” Marly thought of her father’s tenderness with her mother.
“Nothing. But that doesn’t mean I want to do it.” He thudded the back of his head against the stonework of the wall. “I don’t know. I guess I had an idea about the right girl. That there’d be something extra. Cilla’s nice and all, and pretty and, uh, friendly, but…”
“But…” Marly repeated.
“Yeah. But.” Freddie shrugged. “It’s just nice. And I don’t want nice.”
“What about me?” Marly said abruptly. She straightened up so he could see her properly in her fancy ice-blue bridesmaid’s dress.
“What do you mean, what about you?” Freddie frowned.
“I’m not nice.”
He was frowning even more now, those thick eyebrows drawing together. He honestly didn’t understand her question.
She sighed, annoyed at having to spell it out. “Would you ever ask me to marry you?”
He laughed. “Sure, kid. In a decade or so.”
Freddie wasn’t taking her seriously. It annoyed her. No one ever took her seriously. She glared at him.
“You’re joking, right?” He seemed to decide that she was and relaxed again. “Come on, let’s go wish the happy couple good luck and get some food.”
Marly felt like screaming, but she didn’t; she followed him back to the party, hoping no one would say anything about her crying like a baby through the ceremony.
Sylvie had drunk too much champagne and was loudly telling everyone she loved them as they gathered to wave her off. She’d changed into her going away outfit, a pink suit and hat, and was still carrying her bouquet.
She hugged Marly’s mother tightly and told her how much she loved her, but Marly could see that her mom looked stressed rather than touched.
“And you, Marly,” Sylvie said, actually pinching Marly’s cheek like she was a little kid. “You look so grown up.”
“So do you,” Marly said dryly.
There were cheers as the happy couple reached Elton’s car, which had been well and truly decorated with toilet paper and whipped cream. A placard hung from the rear: “JUST MARRIED—HONK TO WISH US LUCK.”
“Time to throw the bouquet,” Cilla ordered, and then she got in position in the middle of the crowd.
Sylvie winked and threw the flowers straight to her sister.
Marly looked around to see if Freddie had seen it, but he was nowhere in sight.
“Pumpkin.” Dad appeared, with his coat and her mother’s handbag over his arm. “I’m going to take Mom back to the hotel room.”
“Okay. I’ll come.”
“No, no.” He forced a smile. “Stay. There’s still cake out. The boys can walk you back later.”
Marly watched as he led Mom to the station wagon, gently guiding her into the front seat.
Marly’s stomach was in knots, and she felt sad and small and faded.
But that was nothing compared to how she felt when she stole around the oak tree side of the house, trying to avoid people, and almost ran into Freddie and Priscilla having a scene.
“What do you mean, you enlisted?” Priscilla whacked Freddie with the bouquet, which made a fleshy slapping sound against his chest.
Marly darted behind the catberry bushes, hoping they hadn’t seen her.
“I mean exactly that. I enlisted. My buddy Cal just got drafted,” Freddie said, “and I got to thinking about it. And I thought, why the hell not? I’m not enjoying law. In fact, I hate it. And if I enlist, I won’t get drafted.”
“If you enlist, you won’t get drafted?” Cilla’s voice was dripping with contempt. “What does it matter, either way you’re in the army!” Marly had never heard her sound so angry before.
“Yeah. But I’ll control how, where, and why. I can choose which branch of the service I go into.”
Marly’s head was spinning. Freddie de Marche was joining the army?
“And what does this mean for us?” Cilla asked tightly.
Freddie went very still and very silent.
“Do you expect me to be an army wife, hauled from pillar to post?”
He stayed silent.
“I see.” Priscilla drew herself up to her full height and then slapped him roundly across the face.
Freddie took it. Then he placed his hand on his red cheek and softly said a single word. “Ouch.”
“You don’t get to say ouch,” Cilla told him fiercely. “You’ve toyed with me for years, and now that you’ve wasted my youth, you’re running off to the army?”
“Wasted your youth?” Freddie got snappy himself at that. “Come on, Cilla, you’re not even twenty-two yet.”
Cilla made a sound like an angry cat. “Almost twenty-two and a bridesmaid at my own little sister’s wedding.” She threw the bouquet at him and then stalked off, her skirts swirling.
Freddie swore. Then he looked over at the catberry bush. “You can come out, half-pint. I saw you dive in there.”
Chagrined, Marly inched out of the bush. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” she said, although she kind of had.
“It’s not really eavesdropping when one of the parties is shrieking.” Freddie untied his bow tie. “I’m out of here, kid. You want me to walk you back to the hotel? You’re looking pretty done with it all yourself.”
Marly nodded. She had no interest in going back to the wedding party. “I’ll just tell my brothers where I—”
“No need,” Freddie said, wincing on her behalf. “They already headed off with Elton’s brothers to some bar in Rockport.”
Of course they had. Here she was alone, then. Again.
Except for Freddie. But even he was about to run off to the army and leave her.
“Come on, it’s lovely weather for a walk.” He offered her his arm and she took it. “Let’s cut through the woods and then down to the beach.”
As they crossed Tinker Street they could hear the sound of the wedding party winding down, glasses chiming as they were gathered up, voices grown soft and tired.
The forest on the southern side was sleepy in the late afternoon, the dusty sunshine pouring through the firs.
The needles crunched underfoot, and everything smelled like summer about to take full flight.
Marly felt the firmness of Freddie’s arm under her fingers, and she fixed every detail of the moment in her mind, to relive later.
“So. You’re joining the army,” she said softly, as they meandered down through the woods to the road, taking a path that wasn’t exactly a shortcut but was worth it for the beauty.
“I am.” He pulled away from her, tugging his arm from her grasp. He took his jacket off and slung it over his shoulder.
“When?”
He looked up at the branches above them, the new budding pinecones just showing their little heads. “End of the summer.”
“But… why?”
“Why not? I’ve got nothing else happening. Like I said to Cilla, the law isn’t for me. I’ve finished a bachelor’s degree, and I’m not interested in taking it further.” He lapsed into silence as they reached the edge of the firs and crossed the road to the cliffs.
Marly frowned. “By why the army?” She followed him until the cliffs declined and the sandy path down to the little beach appeared. The seaside daisies were in full bloom along the path, nodding their heads in the breeze.
Freddie fished in his jacket pocket for his sunglasses and slid them on. Marly wished she’d brought hers. It was still bright out, the sun still a couple of hours away from setting.
“My old man was in the army, you know,” he said.
The sandy path curved in switchbacks down to the beach. Marly stopped abruptly. “Keep your eyes on the beach,” she told him firmly. “I want to take my stockings off and go barefoot.”
“Sure, kid. Good idea.” He didn’t show the slightest inclination to steal a peek as she unhooked her stockings and rolled them down. He genuinely did think of her as a kid, Marly thought in disgust. Freddie took the time to take his shoes and socks off too.
She bundled the stockings up and crammed them in the toes of her shoes. “Okay. I’m done.”
He didn’t even look at her then. He just started off down the path again, his shoes swinging from one hand and his bare feet sliding through the golden sand.
“Your old man was in the army, you said,” Marly prodded. She wasn’t surprised to hear it. Mr. de Marche looked like he should be in a uniform.