“You all right?” Jesse peered at him over his raised glass as he took a sip of beer.
“Fine. Just…fine…just…” He shook his head, then grabbed the table as the room spun. “Fine.”
Jesse studied him. “How’s Heidi?”
Three men at the next table jumped when Michael slammed his fist on the table. “Don’t mention that name.”
“Settle down, son,” Jesse murmured.
Michael reached for his drink. His hand hit the edge, spilling onto the table the little bit he’d managed to pour into the glass. Before he could try again, Jesse removed the bottle. He waved again for the waitress and handed it to her.
“Whatcha doin’? Michael slurred.
“I think the question is, what are you doing?” Jesse took a final swallow of his beer.
Michael dropped his head onto the table. “Forgetting.”
“Liquor won’t help you forget anything.” When Michael didn’t answer, Jesse stood. “Come on, you’re going home with me.”
“No. I’m not going anywhere,” he mumbled, his eyes closed.
“Michael, either you stand up and walk out that door, and climb into my buggy, or I’ll drag you out of here.” Jesse leaned his palms on the table and spoke softly. “Don’t think I can’t do it, either.”
“Go away, Jesse. Just leave me alone.”
Jesse shoved his hands under Michael’s armpits and pulled him up. “Let’s go, boy.”
Michael stood and swayed. “Maybe leaving is a good idea. I don’t feel too well.” He grasped tables and chairs as he weaved his way through the room, Jesse behind him. Once the fresh air hit him, he leaned over and brought up the contents of his stomach. Mostly liquor.
After wiping his mouth with the handkerchief Jesse handed him, Michael stumbled to the buggy, banging his head on the railing as he attempted to climb in. Jesse shook his head, and jumped onto the seat alongside his nephew. Snapping the reins, Jesse called to the horse, and the buggy started up. Michael fell into a sound sleep.
****
Heidi stood on a stool while Mrs. Fenwick picked and prodded her with pins as she adjusted the white wedding gown.
>
“Smile, Heidi.” The woman fussed. “You’re a bride.” She tsked, and pulled the waist in, fastening pins with vigor. “I swear, at every fitting I have to take in more inches.” She shook her chubby finger in Heidi’s face. “You’ll faint right there in the church if you don’t eat more.”
Heidi turned and stared out the window. Small pale green buds appeared on trees no longer caught in winter’s clutches. From her position, she could see yellow and white flowers poking through the new grass in front of the dress shop.
Three weeks had passed since she’d said goodbye to Michael, and instead of lessening, the pain grew every day. Her dresses hung off her, testifying to her weight loss, and the dark circles under her eyes that peered back at her each morning from her bedroom mirror confirmed the nights she lay awake. Wishing.
It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. She cried into her pillow every night, muffling her sobs to keep her parents from hearing. No matter how she tried, she didn’t fool her mother. Had she received a nickel every time her mother asked if she was sure, her pockets would hold enough money to bribe Clarence.
Clarence. When she sat across from him in her parlor two nights a week, she called on all her years of training in good manners to keep from spitting on him. He smiled at her, and she shivered. He touched her hand, and she had a compulsion to scrub herself. Last night when he’d kissed her goodnight on the cheek, she walked up the stairs to her room, pulled the chamber pot from underneath her bed and vomited.
“I agree, Mrs. Fenwick, I keep telling Heidi she must eat more. Why, she’s fading away to nothing.” Mother’s comment pulled her back to the dress shop, where she suffered another fitting, her mother and Mrs. Manfred looking on. With the dressmaker’s frown at the material she pinched, Heidi’s sadness, and her mother’s perpetual look of concern, Mrs. Manfred appeared to be the only cheerful one in the room.
“Once we’re finished here, we need to stop at the hotel, and check on the menu for the wedding breakfast.” Mrs. Manfred perched on the edge of a spindle legged chair that looked as if the dainty piece would collapse under her weight any minute.
Mother frowned, and looked in Heidi’s direction. “Do you feel up to a visit to the hotel this afternoon, dear?”
Heidi smiled. Mother remained the only person not fooled by Heidi’s decision. Hardly a night would go by when her mother didn’t stop in her room at night with a cup of hot chocolate in her hand. Once she settled on Heidi’s bed, assured her daughter would drink the nourishing beverage, she’d ask the same question. “Why are you so unhappy?”
She hated lying to her parents. Sipping the chocolate, which in fact turned her stomach, she’d try very hard to be convincing that she couldn’t wait to marry Clarence. Then Mother would sigh, kiss her goodnight, and Heidi would sob into her pillow.
After speaking with the dining room manager at the Alamo Hotel, and going over the elaborate wedding breakfast her parents planned, they returned home, and Heidi started up the stairs.