Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
My sister rushed into the corridor, high heels in her hand. My parents strolled with a leisurely gait. Virginia claimed my hands. She rasped in Kouri Vini, as if she had to let it all out in her native tongue.
I grasped some of what my mother-in-law said, and even what I didn’t touched me to the deepest part of my heart. She’d vowed I was always her daughter, and that God would bless me. As tears streamed my cheeks, my mom approached, lips pursed. Probably annoyed. How could my momma love to hear other languages while traveling but …?
Nope. This was my wedding day. A day God redeemed my heart, and Mom shouldn’t have already forgotten to be on her p’s and q’s after our chat on my birthday. Or maybe she felt her almost-apology for introducing me to Omari Harris counted for something and gave her some leeway. Washington saving my life had not impressed her or my father either. I wondered if they thought the scales were even now.
I wasn’t sure how we would all heal together regarding my parents, but I suspected distance was now on my side. We’d probably see them in the next ten years if Lynetta got married, or someone … conceived.
“Oh, honey,” Mom cooed. “Your mascara.”
I laugh-cried. I didn’t give a damn about mascara, but I was learning to love my momma my way, even if I had to school her on why Washington and I kept our original wedding date. Today, we’d undo the mistakes I made by cherishing and redeeming our day.
As she wiped my face, she complained, “Madison, they mustn’t see the bride until she enters the sanctuary. You know that. Why are you out here?”
“For the same reason, I’m not wearing these yet.” Lynetta lifted her shoes. “She wants to, Mommy, sheesh. Maddy, you get ten minutes of me in these shoes.”
“Thank you for leaving the prototypes at home, sis,” I replied.
“What about me?” Mom gasped.
I hugged her too, and then, keeping my arm around her, I guided her to the window and showed her the fidgety people. “I was waiting for you, Mom. See? That’s why I’m risking being seen by mere mortals.” Woman, have mercy!
“Don’t tell me you guys didn’t get a real photographer. Again. That’s—” Mom cut herself off, lips zipped, while behind her, Tennessee hyperventilated, totally stressed out by how overbearing my mother was. Texas chuckled.
I was a second away from telling the twins, Just be glad you didn’t grow up with this perfect robot, when Texas’s fiancée wedged her elbow against his muscular side, stopping him from laughing.
And the beat dropped again.
Inside the sanctuary, the pianist struck the first, resounding note, echoing Here from “Here Comes the Bride.” And Cason, the teen we’d somehow inherited, hummed with loud exaggeration as the wedding procession began. Again. Helpful ass
washington
. . .
Hours ago, my mind went DEFCON 1 and put my ninja-secret-lover strategies to shame. With my woman missing, the pianist had eyed me. And I mean eyed me good, offering herself as tribute. Marry the sistah with the Alicia Keys lungs and unreliable left eye? No, ma’am. She and her one proficient pupil could have heated stares with another man. I’d focused harder on my options.
Option 1: Call Momma’s prayer warriors together and tell them, Activate. She’d invited all of them, anyway.
Option 2: Use them in a different way. Have these nine Creole aunties running down the street behind my bride like Olympic sprinters.
Option 3: Grab the pastor’s mic and announce, Madison Babineaux, report to the altar immediately. This ain’t a drill.
When she finally appeared, the air in my lungs evaporated.
Every plan evaporated. Now, every time she smiled, I would envision her walking up the aisle of the church, merged with her shoeless in the sand in San Jose, as if she would marry me every day of my life.
Iglanced over the Mississippi, always muddy, always on the move, but calm today. The lavender evening sky made me think God did acrylics on the side. I’d seen this sky before with my son. I still couldn’t believe that Madison hadn’t wanted to sell the house after all it took for her to return. But I understood that her inability to come home was an issue she needed to resolve, and I was glad she had settled in again. She agreed we should blend new memories with the old ones we would always cherish.
I leaned on my home’s deck railing, watching my wife, barefoot, as she glanced behind her.
“Y’all ready?” She called out to a flock of female followers.
“Yeah, I’m ready,” I shouted. Lifting my whiskey to my mouth, I muttered, “Ready for all y’all to go home.”
“Hush.” She stuck her tongue out at me, as if the wind carried my grumbling.
Momma smirked, coming to the wooden rail at my side. “Mô garçon, you see that there silver seashell?” She nodded her chin to the nautical decor at the edge of the rail as if ready to hit me with it. Woman had been picking out objects for our ass since we were kids once she’d worn out the belt. And I mean worn it out. The leather torn so badly no amount of oil, sewing, or duct tape would save it.