Chapter #26A Wedding Long Past Due, Part 1 by: Nostrum   Despite the chilly winter atmosphere, the day seemed to acknowledge the happy moment that was about to unfold. There was a clear blue sky, the sun bright though close to the horizon, all in stark contrast to the nude trees and short grass. The King’s Methodist Church stood imposing, as if a cathedral; sturdy white bricks, a Gothic roof with green tiles and a massive bell tower. The interior, with its three rows of white pews leading into the altar, under a wooden cross devoid of the image of the Christ, with a crown hanging from it, served as a stark contrast to the Catholic churches and chapels Mireya often visited in New Jersey and the Dominican Republic. It was undeniable, however, that this was a place of worship, one where she could find peace as she often did when she visited a church.
Jeff, her companion, didn’t seem to share her beliefs. Though he looked quite handsome in his sparkling deep blue suit, sleek straight hair and elegant eyeglasses, he didn’t seem to stand out – rather, as expected, he seemed to be merely blending in. He had a reverential mood, enough to fool anyone, but she knew him too much – he simply wasn’t on his element. They were still awaiting for Lucy, as Scott – or rather, Taylor Mitchell as Scott Bickelmeir – waited for her, at the atrium. That gave her enough time to talk.
"Something wrong?" she asked.
"Don’t feel comfortable here," Jeff murmured.
"Why?"
Jeff looked around, thinking for a good moment what to say. "It’s just not my place."
"Not a very religious person?"
He sighed, or so it seemed – for he made a sound that could be a laugh just as much as it could be a groan. "Not exactly. Went to church every Sunday, yeah, but..."
"You weren’t very devout, right?"
"Pretty much."
"Must be bringing you memories, right?"
"Not really," he said with a chuckle. "My family went to St. Michael’s. I was raised Episcopalian, not Methodist."
Mireya stared at Jeff with a knowing, playful look. "Is there a difference?"
"Beats me. Not so different from Catholics."
Jeff’s words rang true for Mireya. She was raised Catholic since her birth, as both Domingo and Maribella were very devout – she was baptized, given her First Communion and eventually Confirmed her faith. Not all of her family was Catholic, though – an aunt had turned into Pentecostalism due to, as she heard from her side of the family, an evangelical "crusade" where she accepted the Lord as her personal savior. She visited the small chapel only once – very different from the parish her parents visited, both in the Dominican Republic and in the United States – and the experience was harrowing: shouting pastors, altar calls, fire and brimstone preaching... That visit had shaken her view of religion, but did nothing to shake her faith. The rosary she wore in occasions was more than enough proof.
However, she couldn’t understand the difference between an Episcopalian and a Methodist, a Baptist and an Evangelical, or the many Protestant denominations that seemed to spread through the United States. And, from what she could see, neither did Jeff.
And yet, that didn’t seem as a good enough explanation. "Seen anyone familiar?"
Jeff pointed at a young couple with a toddler and a baby. The man he pointed at was almost as tall and strong as Scott, but he seemed more of a fighter than an athlete. "I think I know that guy. Was on the wrestling team at Westside; I think everyone called him ‘Brownie’, ‘cos of his surname, Brown." His finger followed a young, athletic man with spiky hair, sitting close to a couple of blonde twins; one had long hair, while the other had it short, in a bob. "And those have to be the Garners: Marc, Eva and Jessica" He snickered, humming with curiosity. "But the girl that’s with Marc doesn’t seem to be Hannah."
"Didn’t think of you as someone who’d like gossip," said Mireya, as she turned, lifting an eyebrow in surprise.
"Well, the Garners were pretty popular. Marc’s a nice guy, and ... Well, you can imagine some of my old friends there had the hots for his sisters. Never really talked to them, though." Jeff bit his lip, mumbling. "Gonna be awkward if he recognizes me..."
"Why?"
Startled, Jeff whispered in Mireya’s ear. "Uh, well... I met Taylor thanks to some stupid thing I did with Marc and the first thing I made with you-know-what."
"Is that so?" After further prompting, Jeff told of his incident with Marc Garner – how he wanted to use the mask on someone as a test, choosing him. Mireya easily tied the story to the rest of the tale – Jeff took Marc by surprise with the mask, just as Scott and some of his friends stepped in. Scott pummeled him while they took Marc to the infirmary, and it was there that Scott learned Jeff had something to do with the masks – and by extension, with the Summa Personae. She recalled Jeff (and Taylor, after some prompting when they visited the couple) said that was the beginning of "the most unlikely friendship."
Only one question remained from that tale. "And... what happened to that thing? You know..."
"It’s safely stored in the Archives. It’s active, though; wouldn’t want anyone to use it."
"Ah..." Driven by curiosity, Mireya was about to hound Jeff with questions, when she felt heads turning. The sound of the organ heralded the appearance of the lovely bride; Lucy, bearing a simple white satin sleeveless dress in Empire silhouette, skirt slightly atop the ankles and a tiara with a veil that barely hid her face. The waist did little to hide her pregnancy, but that didn’t matter – holding the poppy and rose bouquet in her hands, she looked radiant. However, for a moment, Mireya seemed as if she was seeing double, for there was another girl almost identical to her – same luscious breasts pressed by a tight cream dress, lithe figure, same platinum blonde hair but longer, and seemingly younger. She felt the same experience with Scott, as he was flanked by someone who was the spitting image of Taylor; same serious yet friendly look, same broad shoulders, but slightly older. The couple moved through opposite sides of the nave, in between the pews, flanked by their dopplegangers.
Mystified and mortified, Mireya patted Jeff’s shoulder and inquired him. "Jeff?" she said, pointing first at the groom. "Who are those two with the bride and the groom?"
"That one," pointing at the blond man besides Scott, "is Sean. That’s...well, that’s Taylor’s brother. And she..." Jeff blushed, eyes wide open, stammering madly. "Th-that’d be... C-Cindy. That’s Lucy’s sister."
"They’re twins too?"
"Oh, no! Cindy’s my age. They just..." Jeff smirked stupidly, eyes focused on the bride and her sister. "...look very alike, don’t you think?"
"I see..." Mireya grumbled her reply, crossing her arms. "I thought for a moment they were..." She groaned discreetly, whispering the rest of her thought. "Forget about what I said. I thought I was seeing things."
As the bride and the groom met, holding hands, the music ended, formally starting the ceremony. "Dearly beloved," said the priest solemnly, "we are gathered here today to witness the union between these two children, Scott Michael Bickelmeir and Penelope Lucile Vredenburg..."
--
Shortly after Lucy and Taylor had joined their lives in holy matrimony, the crowd gathered outside the church for the reception in the grounds adjacent to the chapel. White tents covering long and lavish tables surrounded a pastel pink rug covering the grass, surrounded by four poppy and rose bouquets; a catering service was awaiting the guests, flanking a three-story simple wedding cake. There was a sense of elegance and frugality at the venue, one that Mireya certainly admired; judging by their apartment, neither of the newlyweds could afford a large wedding, but they did wonders nonetheless.
Remind me to praise the wedding planner, thought Mireya, awed by the decoration. She held her purse close to her waist, rather than hanging around her shoulder; she combed her hair fully to the right, her left ear showcasing a single pearl earring – ironically, from a pair once belonging to her mother. While the women dressed in pastel colors, ranging from white to pink to cream, she went for a bold, tight burgundy dress with a V-neck that showcased her strong legs (but, she lamented, made it difficult to run, as she chose a skirt reaching her ankles), with long sleeves ending in simple bracelets. She wasn’t one to wear makeup, but she did an extraordinary effort to stand out, with long lashes over a cat’s-eye look with silver eyeshadow, and a luscious rouge on her lips. She noticed as her major distinguishing feature – the color of her skin, too light to be black, too dark to be white – seemed to attract the most attention; she could notice a few people that could seem Latinos, but her time in New Jersey made her more than aware.
Another thing she noticed was that Jeff remained uneasy. The ceremony had ended, but he kept his hands in his pockets, looking sheepish. Wrapping her arm around his, Mireya pulled him aside, flashing a pearly-white grin. "What worries you now?"
"Oh, it’s just..." Jeff’s silence urged her to complete the sentence. Nothing was her first thought; after all, he didn’t want to worry her, even though her concern was different. She placed her bet on the second, sure to surprise him.
"Checking for nothing out of the ordinary?"
"Oh, uh..." Jeff was startled. "In a way. Can’t be too careful."
"I wouldn’t worry too much about that, though." Before Jeff could even question her, Mireya already had an answer. She pointed at two young men at a distance; two young men she knew very well.
One was tall, dark, with a strong body showing over his suit and a perennially serious expression on his face. The other was a blond man with a wide grin and a jovial expression.  You have the following choice: 1. Continue |
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