Chapter 22

Easter was the first Sunday of April that year. It was Al's first Easter in church – though at MJT we'd taken to calling it Resurrection Sunday – and she decided to really dress up for it. She went out shopping a few days before, taking Abbie with her. Our daughter was just over a year old, and tottering around on her own two feet much of the time, though she still crawled some, and was very good at sitting suddenly down. But then all babies have that ability, so Abbie wasn't special in that regard. I suppose she wasn't special in any regard, except to Al and me, for we regarded her as the most beautiful and smartest and best child on earth.

When Resurrection Sunday came I put on my nicest suit, and my whitest shirt, and a black tie with Easter lilies on it that Al had gotten me on her shopping trip. I was in the living room drinking a cup of coffee when Al and Abbie came out to show off.

I barely noticed myself standing up. "You two are beautiful!" I said.

Al blushed and curtsied – I hadn't known she knew how – and led Abbie over to me. I watched them come, sure that I was looking at angels. Al had gotten dresses that matched, as nearly as possible. Hers was down to the floor, with a high neckline and lace at the collar, and lace at the wrists, and it was pure white. It must have zipped up the back, as so many dresses do, for there was nothing on the front except a ribbon, also white, that was in a small bow just below the lace and spiraled and curled down from there for six inches or so. She'd pulled her dark hair back and tied it with another white ribbon, this one wider, and put on a little makeup, notably eyeliner that made her eyes look huge and innocent.

Abbie's dress was shorter, between her knees and feet, and there was no lace at the wrists, but I could see that Al had pinned a ribbon to the front of it and curled it. Abbie's hair, not as dark as Al's but a soft brown and almost curly, was also pulled back with a white ribbon. I bent down and picked her up and kissed her, and then held her in one arm while with the other I pulled Al close and kissed her.

"You don't know," I said, "how wonderful you both look."

"Oh, I think I do," she said. "I know how to use a mirror, after all. I've had lots of practice."

"But you don't wear makeup..."

She saw the memory coming up in my face. "That's right – I used to. But learning to put on that mask also taught me how to be subtle. How do you like me today?"

"I think I told you already ... but Alison, you are..." I stumbled, trying to think of a synonym for the word that had first popped into my head. Finally I came up with one. "You're ravishing."

She leaned against me, being careful not to get makeup on my coat. "That's what I wanted to be, Alan. Today I wanted to be a beautiful lady for you. Thank you for letting me be that."

Abbie was getting heavy, so I gently disengaged myself from Al and set the girl down on the sofa. When I turned back to my wife I was halfway between laughter and tears of joy. "Al, you're always my lady, and you're always beautiful. But I appreciate this so much. It's not that I don't love you every day, but this effort..."

"I've gotten what I wanted, then," she said, and smiled. I looked with delight at her overbite, and then kissed her.

I turned to Abbie, who was sitting on the sofa smiling at us. "You ready to go to church, Abbie?"

"Ready!" It had a baby's slur, but I knew the word for what it was.

"I'm ready too," I said as I turned back to Al.

"And so am I."

I picked up Abbie again, and we all went toward the door. "Oh, Al, you're forgetting your purse," I said.

"No, I'm leaving it on purpose. I want to be a lady, not just a woman. I don't want anything to distract me today."

"Oh," I said, not having anything more intelligent in my mind at the time. And we went on out and got into the car, and drove to church.

Some years MJT had a sunrise service, and some years not. That was a "not" year. Instead of a sunrise service we had decided to cancel the second service, bring everyone together in the early service, and then eat afterward. So the auditorium was a bit crowded, more so than it would have been when I met Al, for the church had been growing. We'd never had spectacular growth, but we hadn't shrunk either.

Al and I were early enough that we got our usual seats, and we sat down with Abbie between us. I looked at the bulletin and found the text, which was in the 15^th chapter of I Corinthians, and then turned there and read, with Al leaning over to read along, as her custom was.

Having done that, and having looked through the rest of the bulletin, I looked around. Most of the people had dressed up to some extent, even those to whom dressing up merely meant a less worn pair of pants and a shirt without any patches on it yet. There were of course some people who never showed up, as far as I knew, at our regular services. And there were people who I knew were part of MJT though I hardly ever saw them, or saw them only in Sunday School, since they preferred the second service.

It was while I was looking around that Darvin and Cecelia Carpenter came in. I had a special spot for him in my heart – he'd tracked down Al for me in Phoenix, and I would always be grateful for that, and for him hitting me in the face with the fact that I loved Al. Darlia – their daughter – was now two years old, or near it, for she'd been born in May. There'd been some rumors that they were having problems with their marriage, but they seemed okay as they walked down the aisle. To Darvin dressing up clearly mean putting on a gaudy shirt and a shiny pair of boots, but Cecelia, who always looked sharp, dressed up so well that they ought to have put her picture in the dictionary alongside the definition for "elegant."