Chapter 31

Fat lot I knew. Rudy and Sara helped us carry in our stuff, and stow it where it needed to go, and then instead of saying goodbye, they stood in the living room grinning like they'd been sucking on laughing gas. I'm somewhat dense, and asked, "Is there anything wrong?"

"Wrong? No, nothing's wrong," said Rudy. "There's nothing wrong, is there Sara?"

"No, todo 'stá bien."

Cecelia came up beside me. "If nothing's wrong, then something must be extraordinarily right."

"Sí."

I gave my friend a mock glare. "Spit it out, Rudy."

But he didn't. Instead Sara held out her left hand. Maybe I'm more than somewhat dense, for I didn't see anything at first. It was only when I heard Cecelia's gasp beside me that I realized that there was a ring on her third finger. I looked at Rudy, and he said, "We're getting married again, amigo."

It was hugging time again. I distinctly remember Darlia and Gacela holding hands and jumping around, Rudy wiping his eyes, and Cecelia literally picking Sara off the ground and swinging her around in joy. But other than those snippets it was chaotic, as it couldn't help being with six people rejoicing in a living room where there's also furniture.

Finally we settled down, Cecelia and I on the sofa with my arm across her shoulders, Darlia and Gacela in the dining room's window seat, and Rudy in the company chair with Sara perched on the arm. "When's the wedding?" I asked.

"That depends on you," Rudy said. "We want you to perform it."

"But y'all are Catholic, right?"

"Yes. But you're my best friend and you're a minister."

I looked blankly at Cecelia, but she knows even less about Catholicism than I do. They don't have a lot of Catholics in Leanna, Alabama. "Don't you need a priest to marry you?" I asked.

"No. We never got an annulment, so in the eyes of the church we're still married. We could have a priest do it, but since all we really need is to make things legal in the civil sense, we want you to do it."

"And," said Sara even more softly than usual, "we want Cecelia to stand up with me."

I wiped at a tear that was trickling down my cheek. "I thought I'd done something wonderful getting Cecelia her sewing machine. And then she topped me with that study. But getting to do y'all's wedding..."

"We would both be honored," Cecelia said, her voice husky.

"Yeah. So when do you want to do it?"

"As I said, Darvin, that depends on you. If Sunday is all right, that would be perfect."

"You gotta ask? Sunday it is. I guess y'all will wanna go to mass first?" I don't agree with most of what I know of Catholic doctrine and practice, but I wasn't going to demand that Rudy be unfaithful to his convictions, just as I wouldn't want him to make that demand of me.

"Yes, thank you, Darvin. Let's do it in the afternoon. Would 2 be all right?"

I looked at Cecelia, who said, "As long as you have time to eat afterwards, that would be fine."

"Eat your cooking, chica?" Rudy asked. "I could do that in my sleep. In fact, after they bury me, if you bring around a plate of your enchiladas, I'll rise out of the grave just to taste them."

Sara laughed and pushed his shoulder. "¡Que va, sus enchiladas! ¡Mias son muy buenos, tú sabes!"

I held up my hands in the familiar T sign. "Hold it, people, time out. I understood that, and yes, Sara, you make great enchiladas. But if you start talking in Spanish I'll be the only one left out. I'm a huero, remember?"

Sara laughed again. "Lo siento, Darvin. Sé que eres un huero." Then she switched to English, having needled me enough. "I don't mean to confuse you. It's just that English is still my second language."

"I know, I know. But Spanish is mine, and I'm not near the linguist you are." I took a breath. "So, we have the date and time. Where y'all wanna do it?"

"Your study." Rudy and Sara spoke together.

"Y'all aren't gonna invite anyone?"

"We don't see any need to," Rudy said. "You and your family, my parents and Sara's parents, any other family that want to come, that's all. We had a big wedding the first time, with the limousine and bridesmaids and all that, and it didn't make our marriage work out. Now that we know how to make it work, we don't need all the trappings. We just need each other, and those we both love."

I nodded my head. "That sounds sort of like my theory on the subject. Okay – Sunday, in the study, at 2. All we need now is Colonel Mustard and the candlestick."

Rudy and Sara looked at me blankly, but Cecelia jabbed me in the ribs. "Darvin Carpenter, you are an insane and evil man, and you will not introduce Clue into the ceremony."

"Yes, ma'am, whatever you say ma'am. A tus órdenes, señora."

"And I thought you wished this discussion to remain in English," she said. "I accept your submission – at face value, not as the sarcasm which you intended. I shall enforce it, and if you do not enjoy that, so much the better." She looked back at our friends. "Congratulations. I shall fix you food that you shall never forget."

"And I'll fix you a wedding you'll never forget." I stood up and walked over to them. "Rudy, Sara, I've wished for this for a long time. 'Congratulations' doesn't begin to cover it, but ... congratulations." And I hugged them again.

It was a scramble to recover from being away for a month, get used to the new arrangements in the house, and make sure everything would work more or less smoothly for the wedding. I don't know why people persist in having those big extravagant weddings that cost thousands of dollars and require more planning than Operation Overlord. Surely landing in Normandy wasn't as complicated as our country makes getting married – and it doesn't do a lot of good either, not with half of all marriages, or more, ending in divorce.