Chapter 43

'Berto

After the baptism, after he'd changed, after he'd found Toni and kissed her still damp hair, he realized that there was a crowd all around them. Some were there to welcome him into the church family, some to welcome Toni. Several women, and two different men, hugged Toni with huge smiles – and if her expression was any indication, the hugs were a great surprise to her. He asked her about that.

"Yes," she said, "it is a surprise. But then I surprised myself by rushing to meet you. I had no intention of doing that, and didn't realize what I was doing until I was doing it."

"It surprised me too, Toni. The last thing I expected was to have you throw yourself at me before I could get to dry land."

She laughed up at him. "I did throw myself at you, didn't I? Was it the first time anyone's done that?"

He thought back briefly to his days of chasing women. "I've had a couple put themselves in my way so that I couldn't miss them if I tried. But no, no one's ever thrown herself at me that way – certainly not in that literal way."

She reached up to trace his lips with her index finger. "I'm glad to hear that. I did it because I love you, of course, and I'd hate to think I had a rival."

"You don't, Toni Leti. Even if someone else loves me, and if there is someone who does I don't know about it, I love you, and only you."

Just then the crowd, which had been thinning, began to thicken again as people began to enter the auditorium for the second service. Tyrone came over with the growing press of people, and asked, "I don't mean to rush you, but could you please come with me to my office?"

"Sure," said Roberto, and took Toni's hand as they went down the stairs. It seemed they were destined to be in every office down there – first Jim Garrison's, then Earl Carrington's, and now Tyrone Jackman's. There were only two other elders; they'd now hit 60 percent.

Tyrone settled into his chair and rested his gnarled hands on the desk. "I hate to keep making you learn things between services or after the service, but it seems to keep working out that way. What I wanted to tell you was that we have three dates in the near future when I'll be available to do the wedding, and the building will be available as well. Which will work best for you will depend, I think, on how much trouble you want to go to. I understand that you don't really want a fancy wedding?"

"No," Roberto said. "Toni and I have talked about it, and we do want to invite family and friends, and we want to leave it open to the church, anyone who wants to come. But we won't have a reception, we won't have a best man or bridesmaids or any of that. I'm a simple kind of guy, and all that doesn't mean anything to me, and Toni ... well, she can explain it better than I can."

"It's just that I'm 29 years old, and I've been through, well, some things that have altered my priorities." Toni laid her hand on the desk, her palm flat against the wood. "I don't need a wedding dress, or bridesmaids, or any of that. I do want a church wedding, I have ever since I decided to accept 'Berto's proposal. But the usual trappings don't interest me nearly as much as having God's sanction, and the church's approval, and 'Berto as my husband."

"That's fine, Antonia. We have made a tradition here of weddings that aren't traditional. I and the other elders have, I think, performed as many unconventional weddings as we have the traditional variety." He picked up a piece of paper and handed it across the desk. "These are the three dates I mentioned. From what you've said, and the eagerness that we all witnessed this morning—" his smile was broad "—I suspect you'll want the first one."

Roberto took the piece of paper, and he and Toni leaned their heads together to look at it. The first date was May 20^th – a Saturday two weeks away. He looked at her, and she looked at him, and then she leaned over and kissed him lightly. "That would be fine with me," she said, "if 'Berto doesn't mind."

He turned back to Tyrone. "That's the date, then. I'd have been as happy to begin with to go out the next day and have a judge marry us. I went along with Toni on the church wedding, and now I want one too, but still – the sooner the better."

Tyrone made a note on his desk calendar. "Well then, we have a date. The whole day is open, so what time would you like to begin the ceremony?"

"How about the same time as the service – the first service? Would that be okay with you, Toni?" He turned and she nodded. "Nine in the morning, then, would be what we'd prefer."

Tyrone made that notation as well. "All right, then." He took a breath. "I need to apologize for something real quick. Probably I shouldn't have called you a pair of lovebirds up there. It wasn't as respectful as I should have been."

Toni laughed. "But we are a pair of lovebirds! I thought that was the perfect description of us." She took Roberto's hand and held it tightly. "I love him, and he loves me, and there is no one else for either of us. 'Lovebirds' is as good a description of us as any I've ever heard. You don't need to apologize, Brother Tyrone. If anyone does it's me – I made a silly fool out of myself."

"Perhaps you did, Antonia – but if so, you were a fool for your fiancé, and that is not a bad thing. You saw how the church received it. You made instant friends. They'd have become your friends anyway – they're that kind of people, and so are you. But you made it easier and quicker."

She ducked her head, and Roberto could see the color darkening her brown face. "In that case, Brother Tyrone, I guess we're even."

"Antonia, I guess we are." And they all smiled together.

Toni

It was the evening of May 18^th. The day after tomorrow would be the wedding. Mrs. Vargas – it sounds so wonderful. Antonia Leticia Vargas ... I don't want to hyphenate my name. I want to be Mrs. Vargas, not Mrs. Cedillo-Vargas. I'm still going to be me – but I want me to be my husband's wife. She looked over at 'Berto, where he sat on his end of the sofa reading. She knew it was The Big Sleep, Raymond Chandler's first novel, the one that introduced Phillip Marlowe to the world. He liked mysteries, but she didn't. She looked down at the book in her hand – a volume of Ernest Hemingway's short stories. 'Berto was right – not many women, if indeed any other women, liked Hemingway.