Category: Writing

MARY CASTILLO: Mother of the Bride

“Someone murdered mis palomas,” Susan cried to John. “They were found dead this morning. What am I going to do?”

“Tamara will be okay,” John assured her. “She doesn’t need doves to get married.”

“We have to find new doves,” Susan insisted with the determination of a general planning an invasion. A crash and then smoke erupted from the kitchen and she marched across the courtyard; ready to wrangle pigeons out of the sky and put out flames with her bare hands if that’s what it would take to give her one and only daughter a perfect wedding.

There would be no drugstore bouquet, no sleepy-eyed Vegas officiate, or a 24/7 all-you-can-eat buffet reception while slot machines clanged in the background for her daughter. Instead, rose petals would cascade on Will and Tamara as they danced to an eight-piece mariachi group at sunset.

Speaking of which, where the hell were those mariachis?

“Mom,” Tamara hissed out the window of the hacienda they were renting for the day.

Susan flapped her arms at her. “Get back inside or he’ll see you!”

“Come up then!”

“One moment.”

“But-“

Didn’t Tamara realize what she was trying to do? Doves! Fire! Mariachis! Suddenly doves were spinning in her head, their wings flapping out all sound, round and round until two arms caught her as her legs gave way.

“Mom!” Susan heard Tamara yell and she mumbled, “Stay inside. Will can’t … bad luck.”

She knew without opening her eyes that it was John, his chest a warm, familiar haven. “Slow down, Susan,” he said.

“What happened?” she heard Will ask. He’ll make such a good father, she thought.

“She’s okay,” John answered. “She’s muttering something about doves, do you know what she’s talking about?”

“I was told to rent my tuxedo, wash the paint off my hands and show up on time.”

“Lucky you,” John grumbled.

“I heard that,” Susan said, the wooziness fading away. She had to get up. So much to-

“Mi vida that’s enough,” John said, catching her again when she failed to sit up. “Do you want Tamara to get married while you’re unconscious?”

“No but John-“ She began to cry. “I want it to be perfect.”

He sighed. “I love you, mi vida.” He then jerked his head at Will. “Stay with her a moment. I’ll be right back.”

She cried harder and Will told her it would be okay. But he didn’t understand! Her husband had abandoned her in most desperate hour of need. He didn’t want their daughter to have the wedding of her dreams. He didn’t care that all those hours, all that planning and dieting would all come to nothing.

“If you don’t get two white doves down here in twenty minutes I’ll-” John’s threats made Will tense.

But Susan peeked through her fingers. John stood, feet planted wide with a cell phone to his ear and his left wrist held out. Did his shoulders seem broader, his voice deeper? Her John, the young man she had pledged her life to at 2:37 a.m. on a wintry Vegas night, grew taller right before her very eyes.

She turned to Will. He was so much like her husband, her amor, her corazon. Even if the cake caught on fire or the food was cold, her daughter would marry a man who would comfort his mother-in-law; a man who would take command when her daughter couldn’t go on, who would threaten bodily harm to a stranger over two white doves.

“Mijo,” she said tenderly. “Go inside. I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?” His intense eyes bored into hers.

“Go tell Tamara that her father and I have everything under control. Vamos.”

A grin slowly stretched his lips. The two of them had been dying to see one another since Susan made Tamara spend the night at home.

“And tell her you love her,” Susan said before he let her go. “Always tell her that you love her.”

Mary Castillo
Author of IN BETWEEN MEN, Avon Trade
and HOT TAMARA, Cosmo’s Red Hot Read April 05
Please visit http://www.marycastillo.com/
or http://www.marycastillo.blogspot.com/

TANYA HANSON The Chapel in Retrospect

I love weddings. I’ve bought Brides magazines for years whether I knew a bride or not. Fortunately my husband and I got to host our son’s wedding two years ago, during which time I was NOT MOG-zilla. (Mother of the groom.) I admit to using a personal Nordie’s shopper for my own dress but managed to keep else everything Under Control AND to keep my nose out of the bride and groom’s decisions. But after choosing a harpist, they turned the music selection over to me.

Oh yeah. That started a major hobble down Memory Lane. I picked the lovely hymn “Let us Ever Walk with Jesus” sung at my wedding in California, and my mother’s in Oregon, and my grandmother’s in Kansas, and now my son’s…Bach’s Air on the G String (yes, that’s right. Don’t laugh) that was my processional in 1974. Morning Has Broken, the Cat Stevens hit from that same era that my mother allowed in church only because I found it in an Old English Hymnal and proved that Cat hasn’t written it. (My original choice, John Denver’s Sunshine on my Shoulder was staunchly pooh-poohed by my staunch mother, but if you listen to the lyrics, they’re wedding-worthy.)

Well, my own wedding has naturally turned to haze. And in similar fashion, that year of planning and being SuperMog has evaporated into just a few beautiful Malibu hours, too. Fortunately we still have a daughter. And a niece who’s set a date her bridegroom will never forget: 07-07-07.

But can I take you to the chapel in retrospect? I mean, after-the-fact? Like twenty-five years later? Not only did my husband Tim (a hardbodied fireman with not one romantic chromosome) surprise me with a trip to Maui on our tenth anniversary (during which outing the helicopter pilot played a tape of the infamous Air on the G String while over the Io Valley), my non-romantic spouse gave me the the best romance novel scene ever in 1999 when he took me to Kauai for our twenty-fifth. This time wasn’t a surprise, the trip at least. On the actual day of our anniversary, we wandered the grounds of the resort and came upon the outdoor bar where an entertainer was warbling the Hawaiian Wedding Song.

I turned to Tim and said something profound, like “Wow, that’s apt.”

His reply: “Then I guess it’s time for this.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out an eternity ring of diamonds and my birthstone, sapphire.

He hadn’t planned the outdoor singer at all. Or the helicopter Air on the G, you know. I guess it’s just, you know, love and luck. Which is my reward for having fainted the first time I was ever a bridesmaid. At the altar and all. Well, it was Arkansas, in July, with both temperature and humidity at about 150….

Tanya Hanson
THE OUTLAW’S WOMAN
url: http://www.tanyahanson.net/

MICHELLE THORNE: Briana Got Married…

I don’t have any children, but I do have a “child of my heart” Her name is Briana and she walked in to the bookshop one afternoon and asked if we needed any help. She worked at the florist across the parking lot and she really didn’t like the job and she loved books. I had a good feeling about her from the very first and she worked for me on and off for about 5 years. She helped move the store twice (no easy job) and she has almost worked me into the ground on numerous occasions. The girl is no slacker. Bree comes over to the house about every six months and MAKES me clean out my closet and then she take the bags with her when she leaves so I won’t go back and recover something that is “just too good to give away”. She knows me well. We both love old Audrey Hepburn movies, vintage clothes stores (read thrift stores), great handbags, pizza and Luis. Luis is her brand new husband, and I love him because he adores her and that’s as it should be.

Briana’s dad was very strict and protective and he had chased off every guy who had come around, but Luis wouldn’t go. He hung in when both Briana and I thought he would just give up and say, “This is just too hard.” It took 3 years of dating and a year of being engaged but Bree’s Dad finally just couldn’t fight everyone any longer.

Briana and Luis got married on Saturday March 25, 2006 at the Beau Arts Theater in Glendale and it was the most special wedding I have ever attended. Luis and Bree did everything themselves from finding this great old venue, to decorating and making the favors. Both of them. This was their wedding, and it was glorious.

The theater was decorated like an old nightclub with round tables with palm tree votives and fresh gardenias. There were vintage post cards of old movie stars scattered around and chocolate champagne bottles for wedding favors. There was even a candy “cigarette” girl. There were large screen plasma TV’s that had a collage of Briana and Luis’s lives from baby pictures to engagement photos. It looked so pretty and so very Bree and Luis. Fun. Hip. Very Cool.

Bree wore her Mothers wedding dress for the ceremony as a surprise and then she changed into the dress she bought for the reception. It looked like the dress Audrey wore in “Funny Face”. Bree wore my grandmother’s pearls as her “something borrowed.” She was possibly the most beautiful bride ever. The pearls are hers now to have and to hold forever because she is my girl.

The day seemingly went off without a hitch. There were, in fact, a few problems. But they were tiny and no one knew but the happy couple and they didn’t care. No crazed “bridezilla” moments. We all drank and ate and danced and thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. It was a day that anyone who was there will always remember because Luis and Briana were so happy and so in love. A moment of perfection in an imperfect world. Everyone was warmed by their happiness and I think I know why.

They wanted a marriage not a wedding.

Michelle Thorne
Bearly Used Books…123
Home of A Great Read
123 So First Street
Historic Old Puente, CA 91744
(626) 968-3700

NOELLE GREENE: Funniest Joke in the World

My little brother has this face he makes, kind of a scrunched-up goofy smirk. He has perfected it since early childhood, when he first discovered this Stan Laurelesque look could make one of our sisters laugh like crazy. As the years went on, he tested his power from time to time. He usually got a chuckle, from her at least. Everyone else in the family had long since become immune.

Sadly, on my wedding day, one susceptible grown woman’s mild amusement incited full-out group hysteria. Church hilarity is a well-documented phenomenon. I believe it could be some kind of biological imperative. Its evolutionary purpose is not clear, but I don’t think I care to know anyway.

We’d planned a brief ceremony on the campus where my husband and I met. The university chapel was small, peaceful and surrounded by redwoods that gave the place the dignity of a cathedral. However, I hadn’t considered the down side. An intimate setting makes it impossible to overlook the behavior of your guests.

The wedding began relatively smoothly. A minor problem of lost luggage forced my future father-in-law to attend in a t-shirt that said “I Got Lei’d in Hawaii.” Not ideal, but what can you do?

The minister had encouraged us to personalize our vows so I had naturally tried hard to find passages that reflected our serious commitment. I knew our guests would find the selections thought-provoking, profound, even witty.

Unfortunately, as the minister began to read, suppressed laughter emanated from a middle pew. On the bride’s side. Very near that particular brother and sister.

Giggles rippled like dominoes along the pews. One by one they fell: brothers, sisters, their spouses. The minister was all but drowned out by a crescendo of muffled snorts. I shot dirty looks in the family’s general direction but I knew it was futile. It’s very much like a stadium wave. Once it starts, you can either watch in helpless fascination or join in. I opted for helpless fascination and barely noticed what the minister said until the kissing part.

The experience reminded me of the Monty Python skit about the funniest joke in the world. The joke’s punch line results in fatal hilarity. Anyone who hears or reads it laughs so hard they die. Of course the joke turns out to be something incredibly dumb. For a few minutes on that day, I wouldn’t have minded an outbreak of fatal hilarity.

I found my little brother after the ceremony and reminded him, “What goes around, comes around, buddy.” Sure enough, ten years later, it was his turn to stand at the altar. His wedding was a traditional Catholic mass, with all the trimmings. Suitably, the person giggling helplessly at his side was his own bride. We all sympathized, though. She was entitled to be punchy after all the excitement, what with the exploding limo, the twenty foot flame and the burning palm tree nearly igniting the bridal suite balcony.

So as it turned out, I didn’t consciously have to do a thing to disrupt his wedding. Except hire the limo.

Noelle Greene
OCC/RWA Chapter Member