Chapter 17

Max did call that night, but only to ask if she could come over. She wanted to invite me to her place, but her two roommates were there and she didn't feel like talking about our wedding plans in front of them, nor taking me into her room for privacy – and the start of even more gossip. So I told her that she could come over, and she was there in 15 or 20 minutes.

I gave her a kiss before I moved out of the way to let her in. She returned it, putting her hand behind my head and holding me to her for a few seconds. "Won't it be great when we're married?" she asked as I locked the door.

"Very great," I said, taking her jacket. It was the one with the fake fur at the collar and wrists. "How many jackets do you have, anyway?" I asked her.

"This one, the bomber, the parka, my flight jacket, and my field jacket – though I haven't worn that one in ages."

"I guess you won't freeze."

"I hope not. Winters aren't so bad in the city, not like they are out on the farm, but a blue norther will teach you to stay warm."

"A blue norther?" I asked.

She sat on the sofa and she pulled me down next to her, snuggling herself into the curve of my arm. "A norther is a storm out of the north – not necessarily a lot of snow, but blowing and cold. A blue norther is the worst. The clouds are so dark they make the north look blue as they're coming down. We've got a saying in Oklahoma about such days." Her voice suddenly went fully Okie. "They ain't nothing between here an' the North Pole but a bobwahr fence, an' it's down."

"I don't suppose those storms are anything like the noreasters we get in New England."

"Maybe not, I don't know. I'm sure y'all get more snow than we do." She hadn't come all the way back yet, in her diction, from Oklahoma. "But if you've never been in a norther, you've never seen wind, and until you've tried to go out in an ice storm you've never felt cold or experienced utter helplessness in trying to get around."

"I think I'll pass, too." I squeezed her shoulders and pulled her a little closer. She was wearing an ordinary button-down shirt which she'd tucked into her faded jeans, and she looked absolutely feminine and alluring in it. The top button was open, and I could see her white skin, with the gold locket against it – not enough to be immodest, but enough to make me glad she was marrying me. "So, you wanted to talk about wedding plans."

"Yes. We know more or less when we want to get married. Your last day in the Air Force will be the 18^th of next month, and I'd like to get married the day after that. But we have to arrange for a preacher and a place, and decide how traditional we want to be, and send out invitations..."

"We can do most of the inviting, if not all of it, by phone. People might look at us a bit askance, but given the time that's really the only practical way to do it."

"Yes. So our first concern has to be arranging for the who and the where."

"My first choice would be the church, and one of our elders."

She moved against me, getting more comfortable. She tucked her feet up under her on the sofa, first kicking off her moccasins. "I suppose that would be as good a place as any. I still haven't found any church that really attracts me in Albuquerque, so I might as well just begin coming to church with you. And I don't have any preferences in preachers either." She chuckled softly. "I notice that neither of us is questioning the fact that it'll be a church wedding."

"Why would we?" I found my fingers winding into the gentle waves of her hair. "We're both Christians."

"Yes, we are – if you weren't one, I wouldn't be marrying you."

"And the other way around, though it would be torture loving you if I knew that I couldn't marry you."

"I know. It would torment me too." She kept making little movements, getting somehow closer to me, shrinking or so it seemed as she snuggled into the side of my chest. "Do you have a preference as to which elder performs the ceremony?"

"No. I haven't been there long enough to develop a favorite elder. Whoever's available when we want to have the wedding will do just fine."

"I'll let you deal with the date and elder – talking to the church, I mean. If they want to know whether I approve of whatever you arranged, tell them I've given you carte blanche."

"Okay, that will work. Now, how traditional do you want it, Max?"

"What I want is a big, traditional wedding with a reception and a rehearsal and bridesmaids and everything. But I'll settle for is as close to that as is practical given the hurry we're in."

"Okay," I said, "I've been thinking about things. Your father will of course give you away." She stirred in my arms at that, almost as though what I'd said wasn't pleasant, but she didn't say anything. "I don't know if you've got any friends you'd like to ask to be bridesmaids, or who could be in such a hurry. I do have two sisters, and if you want I could ask them, though..." I had a thought, and decided I liked it, so I said it. "You know, if my sisters were your bridesmaids, and your brother was my best man, it would help knit our families together."

"That's an interesting idea," she said. "I'll have to think about it. But we don't have much time to think..."

"No, time is the one luxury we're out of. We're taking time we could spend planning, and putting it into the honeymoon."

"Does that bother you, beloved?" Her voice wasn't sad or accusatory, just curious.

"No – in fact, the more I think about things, the more I like the idea of doing some things quickly so that we can have a month by ourselves. But you have to admit it's putting a crimp in what and how we can plan."

"That's true. I wish we had some room for compromise, but I don't see where we do."

"Neither do I, Max. So we'll do what we can with what we've got."

She rubbed her hand on my stomach, and I knew what she'd meant the other night about warmth. I reached down and held her hand there, above the waistband of my khaki pants. "That's all we can do," she said. "What your dad says about life not being fair – well, that's what we're dealing with. So we just make do." She giggled. "Do you know what the pioneers used to say?"

"I take it you don't mean the Pilgrims. The people who pioneered in my part of the country were a long time before the ones who pioneered in Oklahoma."

"That's true. The Pilgrims were a long, long time ago. No, I mean the covered wagon folks, the ones who busted the sod and tamed the prairie. They used to say, 'Use it up and wear it out, make it do or do without.' They didn't have much in the way of material goods, just what they could haul across the Great Plains in a wagon, so they had to use whatever they had until it just wasn't usable anymore. The burned buffalo chips for fuel, and the dug houses out of the ground, because there was no wood to burn or to build with. And all the while they were sitting on top of the oil patch." She laughed at that notion. "Anyway, we're not pioneers, but we're making do, aren't we?"

"It's better than doing without." I rubbed my hand along her upper arm, feeling the smoothness of a healthy woman and the firmness of a woman who was in good physical shape. "Anyway, we were talking about your brother and my sisters. Do you want to take some time to think about the idea, or go ahead and ask them if they'd be willing?"

"If they're not, do we both have alternatives?"

"Well," I said, "there's always the alternative of not having those roles. But I suppose I could find someone else to be my best man, if I had to. I like the idea, though, of your brother being there to make sure I take proper care of you."

"And I like the idea of your sisters – I expect they're protective ... by the way, are they older or younger than you?"

"They're both older, though neither one's married yet."

"My brother's younger than I am, and he's still single too. Anyway, I like the idea of your older sisters there beside me, watching me like a hawk to be sure I don't hurt you. Not that I would ever want to hurt you..."

"Nor I you, honey. But the idea is attractive. I'll call Ruby and Amethyst tomorrow, then."

She turned her head, but her position was such that she couldn't get to the right angle to see my face, and she relaxed again. "Those are pretty names, especially the second. Do your parents like gemstones?"

I chuckled. "At the time they must have, though the only jewelry either one has ever worn is my dad's wedding ring, and my mother's wedding and engagement rings. And they didn't name me after a stone at all. What's interesting is that we're – me and my sisters – we're the first generation in the family to not have Portuguese names."

"Yes, you've told me how your branch of the family has assimilated. But I love those names. I just hope they're as sweet and beautiful as their names."

"I think they are." I thought of my sisters for a moment. Until I'd met Max no one around my age had ever been closer to me. "I know I love them very much, and when they fall in love their boyfriends are going to have to get through me in order to have a wedding."

Max laughed gently. "You sound like my brother – his name's Rodney, but we call him Roddy most of the time. Rowdy Roddy, when he's being rambunctious."

"And I bet that when I meet him he's going to make sure I'm fit to marry his sister."

"I'm not sure he'll ever believe any man is that good, but you've got the right idea. I never thought I could love anyone more than I love Roddy, until I found that I loved you."