Darkhouse

TWENTY-EIGHT

Stinger’s Creek, North Central Texas, 1991

‘You look mighty pretty,’ said Vincent Farraday. ‘Let me take your hand.’ Wanda Rawlins was wearing a lilac suit with a pencil skirt to her knee, white stockings and white court shoes. She bent low as she stepped out of the car, holding her lilac hat against the breeze.

She looked around at the small clapboard church and the arch of white roses at the entrance.

‘It’s so beautiful, Vince,’ she said, patting the corners of her eyes with a lace handkerchief. ‘It’s like I’m seeing things I’ve never seen before.’

‘Hush now, little lady,’ said Vincent. ‘You just enjoy this day. Forget about all the bad stuff.’

‘I’ll try,’ she said.

Reverend Ellis stepped through the arch into the sun, shielding his eyes with a mass booklet. He waved it at Wanda and walked down towards her.

‘Wanda Rawlins, it must be two years. Welcome home,’ he said, gripping her hand. ‘I am so glad to see you looking so well.’ His smile was warm and sincere. ‘I hope this isn’t just a fleeting visit.’

‘’Fraid so, Reverend. We’re livin’ in Denison now.’

‘This must be the lucky man,’ he said, pumping Vince’s hand.

‘Yessir. Vincent Farraday’s my name. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.’

‘You’re very welcome to Stinger’s Creek. Now, please excuse me as I go find the groom.’

Duke sat hunched outside the back of the church, smoking a cigarette.

‘Mr Rawlins, how’re you doin’ on this happy day?’

‘Fine thank you, Reverend,’ said Duke, standing up. ‘My suit’s a half-size too small,’ he added, touching the tight navy velvet. He noticed flecks of ash on his ruffled shirt front and flicked them into the breeze.

‘I’m sure Samantha won’t notice,’ said the Reverend.

‘No-one’ll be lookin’ at me,’ smiled Duke. ‘This day is for Sammi.’

Reverend Ellis led Duke through the back door of the church and out onto the altar. Duke inhaled sharply when he saw his mother in the front pew. She gave him a small wave and a nervous smile. He walked over to her.

‘Mama,’ he said. ‘How did you know?’

‘Sammi’s mama’s sister’s in my church in Denison…’

‘You go to church?’

Wanda blushed.

‘You live in Denison?’ he said.

‘This is my husband, Vincent,’ said Wanda. ‘He helped me through my, you know—’

Duke could see the guilt and fear in her eyes, the brittle smile on her filled-out face and wondered without drugs, how she could live every day knowing what she knew. He smiled and shook Vincent’s hand. The man gave him a broad grin.

‘Pleasure, son, happy to be here today.’

‘Thank you,’ said Duke and he took his place at the altar. He checked his watch and looked around. Reverend Ellis walked over to him. ‘I’m afraid I just got a call from Donald,’ he said. ‘He’s stuck behind an accident on the interstate. He won’t be able to make it. He did say you had the rings, though, and to go ahead without him. He should make it to the reception.’

Duke shook his head. He looked around the church for a replacement. The guests were mainly from Sammi’s side of the family. The only person he could ask was Vincent. He gestured him over.

Suddenly, the music started and the double doors at the back of the church opened. Sammi’s father walked in with Sammi to his right, her small hand on his forearm. Her brown hair was permed and glossy, falling below her shoulders, swept high in front and held with a clip from her long veil. Her gown sparkled with tiny beads. Her father passed her over to Duke and shook his hand. His smile was tight.

When the service was over, the guests moved across the street to The Railroad Bar, a tongue-in-cheek name in a town that was bypassed by the railroad in the eighteen hundreds and hadn’t recovered since.

The dance floor was small and couples pressed against each other to fit on the wooden circle. The women wore tight satin dresses edged in lace and stretched across full stomachs, their high heels tipping them to one side. The men were in narrow-legged suits or dressed-up cowboy shirts and starched denim. They drank beer, chased it with whisky and shouted at the band. Duke stood at the edge of the dance floor watching his new wife swaying her hips to the music, her head back, her eyes closed.

‘You OK?’ she said as she danced over to him, pinching his cheeks and kissing him on the lips.

‘Course I am,’ he said. ‘I guess I’m just a little sad Uncle Bill isn’t here today to see all this.’

‘I know, sweetheart. He sounds like he was the nicest man. I wish I coulda met him.’

‘I wish you coulda too,’ said Duke. ‘You know somethin’, Sammi, you are the prettiest bride in the whole world. And I promise to be faithful to you for the rest of my life. I know I’ve made some mistakes, but one thing I know, if someone means somethin’ to me as much as you do, loyalty’s what I give. I’m sure of that.’ His words were beginning to slur.

‘Don’t you get drunk on me tonight,’ she said.

‘No, ma’am,’ said Duke.

‘I want you standin’ to attention.’ She smiled and raised her eyebrows.

Duke frowned.

‘Shut up, Sammi,’ he said.

‘Not today,’ she said. ‘Don’t speak to me like that today. We had a deal.’

‘OK,’ he said. ‘Just don’t go on at me.’

‘I won’t, long as you don’t get drunk. I’ll be keepin’ an eye on you and Donnie, whenever he shows up.’

Wanda leaned against the sink, her face tilted to the light above the mirror.

‘That the kinda powder you’re into these days?’ came a voice beside her. Wanda said nothing.

‘I’m talkin’ to you!’

‘I’m not interested, Darla,’ said Wanda, putting her compact back in her bag.

‘Think you’re all respectable now in your fancy suit with your big husband?’

‘I said I’m not interested,’ said Wanda calmly.

‘You white trash whore.’

Wanda spun around and grabbed Darla by the hair, pulling her up tall. Then she leaned back and spat in her startled face, watching the saliva drip from her eyelids.

‘Don’t,’ said Wanda, pointing a finger at her. ‘This is my son’s wedding.’ She threw Darla’s head back against the door, washed her hands and left the bathroom.

‘Like you give a good goddamn,’ Darla shouted after her.

Donnie walked into the bar and raised his arms.

‘Well, look who it is!’ said Duke. ‘You missed my big moment!’ He smiled wide.

‘Congratulations,’ said Donnie, shaking Duke’s hand and patting his back. ‘Did I miss much?’

‘Where in the hell did you get to?’ hissed Duke, grabbing his elbow, leaning in close to his ear.

‘Officially? In back of a line of cars,’ said Donnie. ‘Unofficially? Had that bit of business to take care of…you know, hide and seek in the woods.’ He winked. ‘Gave an extra little whoosh with the shovel too. Oh, I remember – Tally was her name.’

Duke looked at him like he didn’t care.

Sammi came up and tapped him on the shoulder.

‘Hey, Donnie,’ she said.

‘Little Mrs Rawlins,’ he said, swinging her around. ‘Married at nineteen, pregnant at twenty?’

‘Don’t even joke about that,’ said Sammi, skipping over to her bridesmaids.

‘Bring one back for me,’ he called after her. She waved back. He went to the bar.

‘I had to choose,’ said Wanda, coming up behind Duke. ‘And it broke my heart.’

Duke turned and stared at her.

‘Choose between you and Vincent,’ she explained. ‘It was the hardest thing a mother’s ever had to do. I guess I figured you’d be all growed up and you wouldn’t need your mama no more.’

‘You’re right about that,’ said Duke. ‘But you’re wrong about one thing. You didn’t choose Vincent, Mama. All you ever chose was you.’

Donnie grabbed the bridesmaid’s waist and swung her around him as he made his way back over to Duke.

‘She wanted me,’ he said.

‘Sure,’ said Duke. ‘And thanks for lookin’ after everythin’. I shouldn’t have been mad…’

‘Hey,’ said Donnie. ‘Who’s that in the blue shirt and the cowboy hat? Ain’t that Vincent Farraday, the singer? Who’s the lady with him in the purple suit?’

‘Pretty fuckin’ Woman,’ said Duke.