"How can you be so calm about this when I may be making the biggest mistake of my life!"
I wanted to say, "Because it's your life, not mine," but I didn't think it would go over that well. Eileen went on in much the same vein for the rest of the time it took to replace her headpiece and put the finishing touches to her outfit. Mrs. Tranh and the ladies seemed to grasp what was going on, despite the language barrier, and made sympathetic noises while ruthlessly forcing her into the remaining bits of clothing. Always nice to see real professionals in action.
Ten minutes to go. We dragged Eileen, still babbling, downstairs and out the side door to where we had curtained off a makeshift foyer with a moss-green velvet curtain. I peeped out through a small tear in the fabric and saw that the only empty spots on the lawn appeared to be the places where the guests had rearranged the folding chairs to avoid unusually large mud puddles. I tried to tune out the chaos around me, including the seamstress trying to make my damp puffed sleeves look a little less limp. I concentrated on keeping Eileen calm and recognizing our cue. Which wasn't as easy as it usually was in weddings. Nothing ordinary like "Here Comes the Bride" would do for Eileen, of course. She'd chosen a stately pavane to accompany our muddy procession down the makeshift aisle. Unfortunately, she was the only one who knew it well enough to tell when the musicians began playing it. Every time they started a new piece of music, at least one bridesmaid would look panicked and hiss, "Isn't that it?" It all sounded twittery and slightly flat to me, and I was as clueless as the rest of them, but I began calmly asking Eileen the name of each tune. Having to search her memory and come up with a name seemed to bring her temporarily back to sanity. We had been through "Pastime with Good Company," "La Mourisque," "Jouyssance Vous Donneray," and a lute solo of "My Lady Carey's Dompe" when finally she replied "Oh, that's Le Bon Vouloir!" She looked panic-stricken. Must be our cue.
"I'll get Eric and Caitlin going." I grabbed Eric with my left hand and Caitlin with my right.
"Slow and steady," I stage-whispered, "just like we rehearsed it."
Caitlin looked excited but not nervous. Good. Eric looked bored and only marginally cooperative.
"Roller coasters," I hissed at him. He assumed a look of pained innocence and exaggerated cooperativeness. I mentally crossed my fingers and gave both kids a gentle shove.
I peeked as they slipped through the curtains and set out down the makeshift aisle. They were more or less in time with the music, and I could hear oohs and aahs and exclamations of "Oh, aren't they precious?" Father Pete appeared behind the altar, beaming with enthusiasm. I turned to check that the first pair of bridesmaids were ready. I was beginning to relax when I heard the first titters. I whirled back to my peephole. At first I couldn't see anything wrong. Eric and Caitlin were doing splendidly. Then I realized that Duck had escaped from her cage somehow, and was waddling sedately down the aisle behind Eric.
"Oh, God," I moaned, turning away from my peephole. Michael took my place.
"At least she's in step with the music," he remarked. I reclaimed my peephole and saw that Eric and Caitlin had reached the altar.
"First pair, on three," I hissed. "One, two, three."
I marshaled the other two bridesmaids out and took my bouquet. Mr. Donleavy was being buttoned into his robe. Eileen looked shell-shocked.
"Send her out in another--" I began. "I know, I know," Michael said. "I'm a showbiz veteran, remember? Go!"
I stepped out on cue and marched down the aisle, head high, shoulders squared, trying hard to ignore the little trickles of sweat running down my neck, back, and legs.
Eileen looked radiant as she walked down the aisle. At least I hoped it was radiant. It could very easily have been early warning signs of heat stroke. But when I saw the looks on her face and Steven's as she reached the altar, I suddenly felt, at least for the moment, that all was right with the world and everything I'd gone through all summer was infinitely worthwhile. I stood there for a few minutes, beaming sappily as they began taking their vows, until I caught a glimpse of Barry, beaming just as sappily at me. I came down to earth with a thud.
Fortunately, just then something happened to distract me from my sudden, almost irresistible urge to throw something at Barry. Duck, who had been sitting sedately at Eric's feet, suddenly rose and began walking toward the center of the aisle, quacking loudly. When she reached the absolute center of Eileen's train, she sat down and continued to look around and emit an occasional quack. I debated whether to leave her alone or not, and decided I'd better get her off the train before she laid an egg or answered any other calls of nature. In as dignified manner as possible, I tucked my flowers under one arm, walked out, picked Duck up, and returned to my place. There were titters from the audience, and Father Pete was overcome with a fit of coughing. Duck seemed to calm down after that, but I held her bill closed for the rest of the ceremony, just in case.