Vampire Hands [POETRY]

Vampire hands

Slabs of ice

With icy tendrils 

To caress your face

You accept this

What you want

Is blood’s kiss 

To drain you dry

Set you free

Give you darkness 

For eternity

So hold them tight

These vampire hands

And hope the demon understands 

Hope this felt like more than a treat than a trick. My attempt at prose didn't coalesce into something worthy of my loyal readers. I kept this one short and sweet, mostly because I am wore out from trying to keep my crazy little ghouls from running into the street--that is true terror for a mama's heart. We only went to a few houses, but my.generous neighbors have fueled my cuties (and their parents through the parent tax, am I right?) for at least a couple of weeks. Happy Healthy Halloween!

Crazy For Pumpkins [FICTION]

I reach up to scratch my nose, but my arms don’t move. Neither of them. I try again, shrugging my shoulders to send blood rushing down to my fingers. Still no relief for my itching nose.

“Huh?” I mumble as my eyes flutter open.

“It’s alright dear,” a grey-haired woman with rheumy blue eyes assures me, patting my shoulder as she peers into my eyes, “We are here to help me.”

“Oh good.” I sigh with relief. “I can’t move my arms.”

“I know dear.” She smiles patronizingly at me. “We want to keep you from harming yourself or anyone else.”

The way she emphasizes the last two words makes me pause, before tentatively whispering. “What did I do?”

She peers into my face again. “You don’t remember?”

I shake my head.

“I will give you a hint. You may be engaged to every jack-o-lantern in the neighborhood.”

“Umm…” I dig deep into my memory and a flicker of the past night’s events peeks out at me before hiding again.

I gasp and try to raise my hands to my mouth. Of course, I fail.

“So you do remember. These nice men and I are going to take you somewhere where you can get the help you need.” She smiles sweetly and pats my shoulder, stepping back as two burly men in white lab coats step forward.

As they hoist me from the bed, I see my mother peering around the doorframe. Her usually pale face flushes with shame as she looks at me.

“Hey, what am I doing at my mom’s house?” I murmur as that realization strikes me.

As they carry me past my red-faced matriarch, the uncontrollable desire to burp assails me. I try to hold it in, but it rushes out with a loud belch and an oddly sweet aftertaste. My eyes open wide and more memories break free to flood my brain.

~~

“Sorry, doll, it just isn’t going to work out. Have a good night.” Aiden offered a smile like what he just said wasn’t intended to break my heart.

As he turned away, my jaw dropped. I had nothing to say but surprise left me slack-jawed. I watched as he walked down the street to his car. He never turned back. As his car pulled out of the parking lot, I shuffled inside and leaned against the door, pondering whether I was more hurt about how abruptly he had ended things or that I hadn’t ended our relationship first.

I sighed and headed toward my favorite therapist, the freezer. I reached inside extracting one of my usual prescriptions, a whole quart of ice cream. I didn’t bother looking at the flavor as I grabbed a spoon and plopped down onto the couch to assuage my feelings with frozen goodness and cheesy television. I took a bite, thinking for a moment that this flavor didn’t appeal to me, but soon I was wrapped up in the show, spooning the concoction into my mouth without thought.

~

I woke up on the couch with the empty tub smashed into my face. I burped up a flavor that reminded me of grape juice and rubbing alcohol. I wrinkled my nose and stood up. Dizziness overcame me and I found myself on the floor. After a few minutes to get my head straight, I rose again, taking tentative steps toward the door.

As the door swung open, a hazy figure grinned at me. “You don’t need a frog, you need a pumpkin.” The hazy figure offered as she pushed past me into the house.

I pondered this, stifled another burp, and peeked out onto the porch where a candle flickered invitingly from inside a jack-o-lantern’s orange shell. I knelt down before the pumpkin, inspired by the apparition’s words.

“Are you my prince?” I whispered as I leaned in and planted a smooch on his toothy grin.

Nothing happened. I sighed and stood up slowly, surveying the neighbor’s houses. Cackling gourds looked back at me from every porch, beckoning invitingly with tongues of flame.

~~

My cheeks flush pink as I remember how much my own tongue loosened up the more pumpkins I kissed without one transforming into a handsome prince. I burp again and another realization gives me cause for pause.

“Stop! I’m not crazy.” I declare.

The older woman turns to look at me disbelievingly. “I will be the judge of that.”

“I think I was drunk?”

“Think? You’d know if you were drunk.” I can almost feel her patting my shoulder with her condescending eyes.

“I think I accidentally ate my roommate’s ice cream,” I offer.

She looks even more incredulous. “Darling, you can’t get drunk from ice cream.”

My mom steps forward now, her own cheeks still mildly inflamed, “Actually, they make wine ice cream now…”

“Oh, do they?” The old woman raises a hand to her chin thoughtfully.

One of the orderlies nods his head. “My girlfriend loves that stuff.” The look on his face makes it clear he doesn’t share her sentiments.

“Even so, you’d have to eat so much…”

“You should see my wife eat ice cream,” the other orderly offers, loosening his grip on my elbow.

“Let’s just get you to the hospital and…”

The psychiatrist doesn’t get a chance to finish her sentence as a loud knock on the door precedes a familiar voice calling out in anxious tones, “Mrs. Reams, are you there? Have you seen Kiersten?”

The doctor looks at me, “Your roommate?”

I nod as my mother throws open the door.

“Oh, Kiersten,” my roommate rushes forward to hug me, “I am so glad you are okay. When I saw you ate the ice cream that I…” She pauses as she notices my attire and the strangers surrounding me. “Um, what’s going on?”

“Your friend was acting erratically last night, so we came to take her to the hospital,” the psychiatrist offers dryly. “The ice cream that you did what to?”

“Oh, it was wine ice cream and Kiersten doesn’t drink,” my roommate offers in a rush, giving me an apologetic look.

The psychiatrist looks disappointed, but waves her hand dismissively. “I guess we have a rational answer for her behavior. Help her out of the jacket.” She pauses and leans in to look deeply into my eyes. “And you should never touch alcohol again.”

My eyes widen. “I won’t. I promise.”

Happy Holidays! Hope this piece entertains you and finds you well. I know. I ask a lot of my writing. 

Carving Contest [FICTION]

“Nothing can keep me from carving the most awesome pumpkin ever,” Earl declares, adjusting his mask one last time.

“We know, Earl.” I glance around at the crowd who have shown up to celebrate the art of pumpkin carving.

The assembled masses don’t come close to the normal turnout for this event, but the fairgrounds don’t provide quite enough room to maintain six feet between the normal amount of pumpkin carvers and fans. Earl grins as he steps onto the stage and inspects his pumpkin. He gives me a thumbs up and picks up a carving knife. I watch him deftly cut around the stem and linger a few seconds longer as he begins extracting guts and seeds.

Then I slip out to see who decided to risk the virus and score a booth at this year’s festival. I grab a bag of chocolate-covered roasted pumpkin seeds, a half dozen pumpkin cider donuts, and lose time over a display of pumpkin-themed jewelry before making my way back to the main stage.

Guffaws and snickers herald my re-arrival to the audience. But they are not for me. I look up at the stage to see what comical face has appeared on one of the pumpkins. What I behold sends my own heart down into my shoes, too ashamed to keep beating in my chest.

I know the comedian is Earl because I recognize his shirt, which he emblazoned boldly with the words, “Pumpkin Pimp” in slashes of black magic marker. A pumpkin, however, sits atop his shoulders. One with a face carved on it that has no place among the masterpieces normally produced during the contest.

I sigh. “What did that idiot do now?” I mumble to myself.

A woman about four feet to my left gives me a sympathetic look before looking away as a snicker escapes from her lips. I try to catch her eye to ask her what happened, but she pointedly keeps her eyes averted. I cross my arms and step toward the stage. A guard shakes his head and waves me back.

“But I…” I start to make my case, but he shakes his head again, raising his eyebrows in unspoken challenge.

I bite my lip and step back, waiting to see where this goes. One of the judges steps forward to talk to the guard gesturing at me as she talks. The guard looks at me and then back to the judge before nodding and stepping over to Earl.

“Okay, buddy, we found your sister.” He announces loudly as he puts a hand on Earl’s arm, “We’re going to have her come up here and help you with this mess.”

Earl gives a thumbs up and then begins knocking on the side of his pumpkin head. I hear muffled giggles from within and roll my eyes. I step toward the stage as the guard motions for me to approach.

“What did you do, moron?” I ask as I step up to my brother.

He giggles and spins the pumpkin until I can see one eye peering at me through the crudely cut mouth. “This time, it really wasn’t my fault.”

“How so?” I ask.

“I was just carving my pumpkin…” He begins.

“Why did you bother, this pumpkin looks like something I would do?” I interrupt.

“Oh, this isn’t my pumpkin.” He assures me. “Can I finish my story?”

I shrug and wave a hand to encourage him to get on with it.

He points to another pumpkin that while much smaller, too small for someone to put their head in. A detailed haunted house comes to life on its orange surface. “That is my pumpkin.”

“Oh.”

“And I won first prize.” He holds up a blue ribbon, waving it in my face as he continues. “One of my competitors didn’t like the fact that I won.”

“Was it that you won? Or did you…”

“I did the dance,” he begins to do it again, shaking his hips at me like a bellydancer on overdrive.

 

I cover my eyes. “Oh, please…”

“You should watch this.” He says.

“I have seen it,” I mutter, but I uncover my eyes a little.

He gyrates his butt at me and dances closer and closer, “Fred didn’t like me getting so close to him. Instead of asking me to back off, he just picked up this monstrosity he called a competitor…” Earl pauses to laugh. “And that is how I got to be a pumpkin head.”

We are another day closer to Halloween. I hope you all have plans that are just the right size for you. And I hope this little treat keeps you from wasting that hard-earned toilet paper on my house.

Morning Surprise [FICTION]

Darkness greets me as I reluctantly open my eyes. The beeping of my alarm clock continues as I grumble and roll out of bed. I stumble to the opposite side of the room where I keep my alarm to insure I actually leave my bed. After vanquishing the sound, I stumble into the bathroom, reluctantly flipping on the light switch to bath my ancient shower stall in tepid light.

With a sigh, I turn on the water, so it can be as tepid the light by the time my teeth are clean. Soon my ablutions are done, my towel is sopping wet, and I need clothes to face the day.

I flip on the overhead light and stumble toward my dresser, deftly selecting an outfit without even looking. I am satisfied with my choice until I glance in the mirror. My reflection reveals that the shirt I am wearing doesn’t look right. I sigh heavily and head for the closet.

“A light jacket will fix this,” I mumble as I throw open the door and reach inside.

I scream. Instead of being met with the soft resistance of clothes, something hard bumps against my hand and then clatters eerily against itself. I take a deep bracing breath and open the door further to peer inside. Empty eye sockets stare back at me surrounded by yellowed bone. A toothy smile leers back at me despite the absence of two front teeth.

A handwritten note flutters from a string around its neck as I step closer, “I know all the skeletons in your closet.”

As I register the handwriting, my horror and revulsion fade to childish tittering. In fact, my laughter brings on a bought of hysteria. Soon I am lying on the floor, gasping for breath around violent guffaws.

When I finally pull myself together again, I rise from the floor and send a text.

“Found ur friend. Come get him.”

I wait for a couple of minutes without a reply before realizing that seven in the morning is way too early for the recipient to be awake. I reach past my closet’s new inhabitant to claim a light jacket. 

My unexpected houseguest slips from my mind as I rush through my morning tasks. Then my phone buzzes in my pocket. I glance at the clock.

“11:00. Right on schedule.” I answer the call slowly and cup my hand over my mouth. “I know your secrets, too.” I whisper.

I am greeted by a familiar giggle. “Oh, Patsy, your secrets are my secrets. What do you think of our new friend?”

“He surprised me,” I answer hesitantly.

“How much?”

“What do you mean how much?”

“Did you wake up the neighbors?”

“No.”

“Did you pee your pants?”

“Certainly not.” I drop my hand as I hiss this.

She giggles again. “Too bad. Maybe we will have better luck at the haunter house.”

“Maybe. Since those people aren’t used to your tricks.”

She cackles and the line goes dead. I shake my head and go back to work, wondering exactly what a skeleton has to do with the dragon’s lair theme we chose for this year’s haunted house. I guess I will find out when I transport our bony friend to his new final resting place.

So this was meant to brighten your Friday, but life got in the way. Here it is to brighten your Monday instead. Hope it helps you get into the mood to spook and be spooked. Muhahahahaha!

Camping Chaos [FICTION]

 Summer doesn’t arrive until the tent goes up. That is what my friends say as I grudgingly join them each year for a camping trip. It always ends in disaster, but they somehow talk me into it again and again. This year, I am not the only one ruminating on this irony.

“It’s the s’mores.” Taylor shakes her head knowingly.

“That has to be the only reason Tabby keeps coming.” June agrees.

I shrug my shoulders. “Must be. After all, you guys are no fun.”

“I used to be fun,” Ginny stares glumly into the fire.

“When?” The rest of us ask in unison, chortling good-naturedly.

Ginny doesn’t respond and our laughter dies out. The awkward silence stretches on until June begins slapping out a rhythm on her thighs. Soon we all join in, matching pace easily as we tap out the familiar beat of our high school fight song.

Our musical overture ends abruptly as screams erupt from the nearby woods. Our hands hover over our knees as our eyes dart around the circle. Another scream erupts and we rise to our feet, turning as one to peer into the darkness of the woods.

“What was that?” Taylor’s eyes bulge.

“I think we should go,” June says, reaching for her backpack and slinging it over her shoulder.

“But our stuff?” Ginny glances at the tent.

“But our lives?” Taylor hisses.

“Shouldn’t we see if someone needs help?” I ask, taking two tentative steps toward the trees.

Three piercing glances convince me of the insanity of my question. I grab my backpack and follow them back to the trail to our car. We keep up a steady pace, glancing over our shoulders frequently though the forest remains relatively quiet around us.

I breathe a sigh of relief as I see the halo around the single overhead light in the parking lot. I take one last glance over my shoulder and stop short as I collide with June’s back.

“What the…”

“Shh.” My friends whisper as one.

I open my mouth to point out they just made more noise than me, but the words dissolve into ash in my mouth as I see what has arrested our forward motion. Red liquid shimmers on the hood of Taylor’s black SUV. An arm dangles from roof. Despite the warnings going off in my head, I step forward to get a better look. My eyes scan the parking lot, confused.

“Something’s not right.” I mutter under my breath.

“My car…” Taylor moans.

“That poor person…” Ginny adds.

“We’re next…” June sobs.

“But where is the body…” I take a few more steps, wrinkling my nose as an oddly sweet smell gets blown to me on the breeze. “…and the rest of the blood?”

Screams ring out from the forest around us. I turn toward them. June grabs at my arm as I start walking back into the forest.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to find out who is screaming.”

“You can’t help them.” She hisses.

“I don’t plan to…” I raise my voice. “I plan to kick their butts.”

My three friends look at me in confusion for a moment, but my resolve unfreezes their legs. They match step with me, hovering so close I don’t dare to stop for fear of being trampled.

“Tabby, I hope you’re right.” Taylor whispers fearfully.

“Isn’t your boyfriend a med student?” I ask her as pieces begin to fall together in my head.

“Yes. Are you hurt?” I feel her grab my arm, trying to bring me to a stop so she can check me for injuries.

“I’m fine.” I continue my determined march as I shake my arm free.

When I have control of my arms again, I reach out squeeze Ginny’s hand. “And your boyfriend works in a grocery store?”

“Yes.” She says tentatively.

From somewhere to our left, I hear a familiar voice release and expletive. “I think she’s onto us.”

“Corey?” Taylor asks the darkness.

Laughter erupts and then four flashlights click on, blinding us. “You were supposed to let us rescue you.” 

Corey points his light at the ground, revealing our boyfriends sporting wide grins. 

“I told you Tabby would ruin our fun,” my boyfriend Seth steps forward to wrap his arm around me, “But what did we do wrong?”

“Not that we would ever do this again…” Corey assures us unconvincingly.

“There was only blood on Taylor’s car, not even splattered on the ground. And there was only one arm. Surely, somewhere nearby, we would have seen a torso or something.”

“What can I say? It’s hard to borrow more than an arm from the medical school.” He grins.

“Or any arms? I saw stuffing poking out of the ‘severed’ end.” I frown at him and shake my head. “And the blood smelled super sweet…like corn syrup.”

Ginny’s boyfriend shrugs as she lightly punches his arm. “Sorry, babe.”

Taylor shrugs off Corey’s arm. “Very funny guys. We are going back to our girl’s camping trip. And my car better be pristine when we come back in the morning.”

The boys giggle and head toward the parking lot as we return to our tent.

“We better check the tent for rubber snakes and giant spiders.” I mutter.

“True dat.” Ginny agrees.

We all laugh and get back to the business of celebrating summer with chocolate, marshmallows, and graham crackers.

~~~

I started this, hoping to make it a summer offering, but my heart wasn’t in it until the spooky season finally arrived, so I hope it was worthy of your creepy peepers.

WELCOMING FALL [POETRY]

 Warm glow behind frosted glass

Are we ready for pumpkins at last?

Spice on the air, awaking our tongues

As we breath the chill deep into our lungs

And dream of dark nights and costumes bright

Apples dripping candy, children’s delight

As we step back in time or summon the future,

Dressed up in scrubs, marred by a suture,

And when tricking is done, we tally our treats

And wait while our hot chocolate heats

Gazing at a moon so full in the sky

As our minds now turn to pumpkin pie

Hello, dear readers. I hope you are ready for fall. It snuck up on us amongst all the excitement. I started this poem sometime in August. It can be rather cold when you are walking around your neighborhood before the sun is even up. Or maybe I am already half thinking about costumes and treats?

Of Best Friends and Weddings: Part II [FICTION]

Read Part 1, here!

After a couple of minutes, murmurs break the stillness. Restless feet tap out a soft rhythm as impatience fills the assembled guests. Some bob their heads up and down, trying to decide whether or not to turn toward the back of the sanctuary. Others take the opportunity to slip their phones out of purses or pockets, staring down at little screens with zero interest in the events transpiring near at hand. John squeezes my hand as snippets of conversation reach our ears.

“What is going on?”

“That must be his ex.” My cheeks burn as more eyes turn toward me.

“No. That is the bride’s brother’s ex.”

“Huh?”

“The one who…” The voice fades to an indiscernible whisper, but I know the lies it conveys.

“Oh! Her!”

I grit my teeth to keep my own thoughts from escaping through my lips. 

John leans in to whisper in my ear. “Ignore them. Pay attention to me.” 

He squeezes my hand softly, leaning into me. I bite my tongue, afraid I won’t be able to hold back much longer. Mama appears in the doorway and gestures toward me. Every eye turns  back toward me. John takes my hand as I shuffle toward Mama with my head down.

When I am close enough, Mama leans in to whisper, “I think we ALL need to talk, sweetheart.”

“All?” I squeak.

“Yes, they are waiting.”

I follow her to a small room labeled “Bride’s Room”. I hesitate and John pulls me back toward the door. “We’ve got this.”

Mama raps on the door. “We are coming in.”

As I step inside, I see Caroline and Tom standing on opposite sides of the room. Though her eyes are now dry, streams of mascara transform her into a raccoon rather than a blushing bride. Her mouth twists into a pout as her eyes meet mine.

As I waver, turning back toward the open door, Mama grabs my hand and pulls me into the room. John steps in front of me, as if to protect me from Caroline as he gives her a once over. He relaxes a little as he takes in her petite frame and tear-streaked face. Mama steps behind me to pull the door closed and barricade it with her body. She crosses her arms defiantly.

“No one leaves this room until I am satisfied as to whether or not my son is getting married today.”

“That’s up to him.” I croak.

Tom stands silently, looking from Caroline to me with wounded eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He almost whispers as sad eyes focus on Caroline’s face.

“I didn’t know.” An almost inaudible whisper.

“Really?” His voice rises. “You saw pictures of Tara and I at her wedding…hanging out…”

“By that time, I was in love with you. I didn’t think you would marry me if you knew who I was and what I had done.”

John grips my hand tighter at her words. I step back into him and he wraps his arms around me. I sink into the protective bubble of his arms, leaning my head back against his chest as I grip his hand tighter.

“You admit that you lied,” I snort, “Finally!”

“You know how we were.” Caroline whines. "We were always so competitive and then you broke Vince’s heart.”

“He broke up with me,” I sneer.

“Oh.” Her eyes widen. “That isn’t how he told it.”

“So you told everyone that I cheated on him and stole from you?” 

Caroline starts to cry. “I’m sorry. So sorry. Tara, please…” She blubbers into unintelligible pleas, presumably for forgiveness.

But are those tears real? I step forward to peer into her face, confused and unwilling to forget the past, stopping as John pulls me back in protectively. The tears look real enough, gleaming in the corner of her eyes before rolling down her cheeks. She glances at me and then steps toward Tom, reaching out her hand for his. She turns those wet eyes back to him as he stares at her open hand without moving to take it. She manages to compose herself and lowers her hand, clasping it tightly with the other as she breathes deeply and begins her pleas anew.

“I couldn’t tell you about Tara and I. By the time I realized you were that Tom, I was already in love with you. Please! Forgive me! Marry me!” She sinks to her knees in front of him, slipping off her engagement ring off to proffer it to him.

Tom’s features soften. Then he turns to me, awaiting my response. I bite my lip, my eyes riveted on the ring. It has the tiniest diamond I have ever seen. Though she wrapped a curtain around herself to hide her dress, I note that she chose a simple hairstyle and light makeup that doesn’t try to hide the years that have transpired since we last spoke. 

“You really have changed?” I question my own realization though the woman before me doesn’t share the same tastes as the woman I knew.

“I have.” She bites her lip. “I will go out there right now and confess to everyone that you didn’t really cheat on Vince or steal from me. I should have done it long ago, but…”

“You were afraid…” I finish for her.

She nods her head. “But I wanted you here. Just as much as I wanted you here.” She turns to Tom, pleading with wide, tear-filled eyes.

“I do love you.” He whispers to her, looking to me apologetically. “But you…”

“I didn’t set out to lie to you. Please.” She begs again and then they both turn to me.

“You would really tell everyone out there the truth…”

“Yes.” She interrupts breathlessly hopeful.

“…on your wedding day.”

She nods, gripping the curtain tighter around herself and stepping toward the door where Mama still stands guard. “I will tell them right now.”

“I will tell them,” Mama says, refusing to yield the door, as she looks to me. “If you want me to.”

“I don’t want today to be about me.” I demur as John gives me a reassuring hug.

“So my son is getting married today?” Mama looks at me.

I look to Tom, shrugging my shoulders. “You know her better than I do. Do you want to marry her?”

He blinks back tears as he nods his head.

“So you’ll marry me?” Caroline asks, slipping the ring back on her finger as Tom nods again.

“We should get this going before the guests give up and leave,” Mama opens the door.

“I have one more big favor to ask.” Caroline says, offering me a hopeful smile.

I narrow my eyes, “How big?”

“I need a maid of honor.”

“What?” I choke out the word.

“I have a dress.” She looks me up and down. “And I think I guessed the size right.”

Caroline reaches toward a garment bag hanging from an oversized hook on the wall. She pulls down the zipper to reveal a cocktail dress in a soft blue. 

“Ummm…” I look at John doubtfully.

He shrugs. “That color would look gorgeous on you.”

Mama reaches out to take my free hand. She mouths three words to me, “An olive branch.”

I nod my head and reach for the dress. “I guess I can be a bridesmaid…”

“Maid of honor…” Caroline corrects me.

“…but it will be awkward…”

“I know, but I had always hoped….” I read the memory of weddings we had planned in our youth in her eyes.

I nod my head. “That I could take attention off of you on your wedding day.” I murmur as the irony hits me.

“My own fault.” She replies.

“I better go finish getting dressed,” Tom says, nodding toward John.

“I’ll go with you, so the ladies can get ready.” John gives me arm one last squeeze on his way out.

“Let me help you,” Caroline offers as Mama closes the door behind the men.

“You will not. You will sit down, so I can fix your make-up.” Mama commands, stepping forward to grab tissues and makeup remover from the vanity. “Tara can wait to be zipped until you are gorgeous for those wedding photos I plan to have all over my house to show my grandkids.” She prattles on as she goes to work.

I slide off the simple dress I chose for this event. Slipping the blue silk over my hips and onto my shoulders, I realize Caroline guessed my measurements correctly. I slide the zipper as far up as I can before turning to watch Mama work her magic. Soon no hint of Caroline’s tears remain.

Mama continues to direct us until we both meet with her approval. As we step into the hallway, we are greeted by two bridesmaids in slightly simpler versions of my dress and two groomsmen. They eye my curiously. The best man grins at me as I realize John has been roped into being part of the wedding party as well. He reaches for my arm as Mama begins offering whispered orders to each of us. She lines us up behind Tom, casting a warning glance at Caroline as she peeks out of the bride’s room.

“You wait until someone raps on that door before you come into this hallway, young lady.”

Caroline nods and slips back behind the door before gently closing it.

Mama takes Tom’s arm and guides him toward the door. “Walk your mother down the aisle to appease some gossipmongers.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says softly.

They walk calmly to the front of the chapel. I see heads turning to peer back toward the door, but Mama clears her throat loudly and holds up her hands.

“This is a wedding. A time for the uniting of two families. A time, apparently, for forgiveness. Caroline has asked Tara to be her maid of honor,” She makes a disapproving cluck as murmurs spread through the chapel. “The two have put aside the past. You should do the same. Tara is a wonderful girl and never stole from her friend. Save your gossip and speculation for tomorrow. Today, we celebrate the marriage of my son…”

She lets her unspoken warning fall over the crowd. 

When silence reigns again, she motions for the pianist to begin playing the wedding march and the wedding begins…

Finally, the conclusion of our tale from a couple of months ago. I hope you enjoy it. I also hope the Corona Blues aren't keeping you down.