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Epilogue

WEDDING BELLS

AUGUST 15 WAS CHOSEN as the night of the double wedding because of the full moon. Laura Pierson strongly believed that it meant not only good luck but also good weather, which would make for a more pleasant event.

Hilary and Joy, the blushing brides, were allowed minimal intervention, and every detail was planned by Christine James, Fiona Malone, and Laura Pierson. Helena Casey had added her touches, too, and it was she who had suggested that the theatre would be the perfect place for the big event. The decorations were lavish and whimsical, the menu mouthwateringly tempting. It was designed to feel like a midsummer night’s dream, and hundreds of friends and family and families of friends were invited to fill the seats.

Abby was a bridesmaid. Her silky, fair hair was smoothed back from her face in a low braid entwined with wide ribbons of rose, lavender, and soft ivy green. The colours were chosen to compliment the purples of the theatre decor and the opulent theme.

Her long, simple gown swept the ground, covering her ivy- green flat satin pumps. The sleeves were elbow length, and the neck was slightly scooped and sat open to her collarbones. The blended linen dress was rose, with a ruffle of lavender, a ruffle of rose, and a ruffle of green below the knees, creating a wave-like action when she walked. Abby loved the way she looked.

There were six bridesmaids and six ushers, three of each chosen by both couples. Two bridesmaids wore rose dresses, two wore lavender, and two wore the soft green.

Christine had pinned an elaborate corsage of lavender, pink roses, and baby ivy on the right shoulder of each of the bridesmaids’ dresses. Not only did they look gorgeous, observed Abby, they smelled divine.

Being part of the wedding was a welcome diversion for Abby. Since the night of Samuel Owens’ demise, she had been plagued with the image of his body hurtling through the air in the blast. She’d woken in the night several times, shocked and sweaty, imagining the horror if Owens’ plan had been successful, if she and all the people she loved had been killed. If Dancer’s body had been scattered to the four winds.

That night, Mack Jones had been on the spot almost immediately. He’d personally handled an anonymous call minutes before, and was already driving to the theatre, sirens blaring, when he’d heard the enormous explosion. He’d radioed for ambulances, firetrucks, and police backup. Mack had had no idea what he’d find, but the caller had mentioned Samuel Owens, The Stonewick Playhouse, and gasoline. That was more than enough. He knew it was a potential disaster, and he wasted no time.

The caller who warned the police turned out to be Owens’ personal valet, Walter Poppins. The man had been cowering in his bedroom when he’d made the brave decision to get involved, consequences be damned. Walter also turned Owens’ cane into police headquarters in Orangeville, which confirmed Abby’s suspicions.

The weapon had been cleverly designed. It was crafted from silver, with ornate silver sculptings covering the handle. The trigger and target-finders were obscured by these scrollings, allowing it to pose as an elaborate but harmless cane. Walter Poppins had retrieved it the day of the Invitational, on Owens’ instructions, from the metal tubing that supported the call-board at the show grounds. Owens had simply slipped it down a hollow pole when security came running to hold him for questioning.

Helena Casey had grown fond of the meek, industrious Walter during her ill-fated courtship with Samuel Owens, and had hired him the morning after the explosion. He was happier than he’d ever been. Working for the temperamental and difficult Helena was challenging, but much preferable to the dark, dangerous environment of Owens’ estate.

The bridesmaids and ushers were asked to assemble, three of each on stage right, three of each on stage left. The men wore grey morning jackets and striped pants. Their shirts were rose coloured, and their cravats were striped with rose, green, and lavender. Their boutonnieres were a single pink rose. Everyone said that the men looked extremely handsome, and the men were only too happy to agree.

Carrying luscious bouquets of roses, lavender, and trailing baby ivy, the women looked like they’d walked out of a painting by Degas. The stage was dark, the house lights dimming. The four-piece musical ensemble awaited instructions.

Abby’s entire body tingled with expectation. It felt like opening night all over again. Abby smiled as she recalled the success of the show. Pinocchio had run for ten days with four matinees, and every house had been standing-room-only. Her Blue-Winged Fairy costume had been washed, mended, and pressed to perfection after the beating it took on opening night. The reviews had raved about the production, bringing eager and curious people from miles around.

Miss Iman, the supply teacher, had written a review for the local paper that singled out Abby Malone as a budding actress of singular presence and watchability. Abby never pretended that the comments didn’t please her. She’d grown to love the theatre more with each performance. She’d delighted in finding new reactions, new thoughts, new moments in each show. Her portrayal had subtly grown with each performance, not so much that any other actor was thrown, but enough to fill Abby’s need to complete her character.

After the positive reaction to Pinocchio, Joy and Robert were rapidly putting together a season of three plays for the coming winter, and, if all went well, a summer season of two more. Abby had already chosen her audition pieces and was working on a song with the help of her mother. Fiona had a beautiful voice and was quite proficient on the piano.

The theatre was dark. The oboe began a husky, haunting introduction to the first piece. It was “Never Tear Us Apart,” INXS’s proclamation of unwavering commitment. The oboe player put down his instrument and picked up a saxophone. The sax was joined by the violin, then the guitar, with the percussionist brushing on the snares. Six dozen tiny lights suddenly lit the floor of the stage, creating a dazzling runway.

The saxophone wailed its heartbreaking tones as the garden-painted backdrop lifted, revealing the two rows of bridesmaids and ushers as they entered from both sides of the stage.

Hilary had asked her best friend from McGill University to be her maid of honour. Maria Brinks was statuesque, with thick dark hair and an engagingly sweet smile. Sandy’s best friend, Nick Mays, was enthusiastically paired with her.

Sandy’s beautiful fourteen-year-old sister, Rosalyn, walked on with her proud father, Rory.

Abby held the arm of Luke Best, a very humourous person and Sandy’s long-time friend. He told everyone that he was the “best” man.

Norma Dinniwell, Joy’s great friend and soulmate since childhood, looked healthy and radiant. Beside her walked Charlie Watson, Robert Wick’s chum since the day they’d met in kindergarten.

Christine James was very pleased to be escorted by Pete Pierson, and Laura Pierson was cheerfully attended by Robert’s brother, Daniel Wick.

Helena Casey was proudly escorted by George Farrow, who appeared amazed to have the blond beauty on his arm.

Maria and Nick led the way on stage left, followed by Rosalyn and Rory, and Abby and Luke.

Norma and Charlie headed the lineup on stage right, with Christine and Pete next, then Laura and Daniel. Helena and George followed, completing the party.

They were all sizes, ages, and postures, but the common feature was the happy smile worn by each person. There was a short pause in the music when the wedding party arrived in place on the stage.

The music ensemble dramatically began playing the wedding march.

Breaking with tradition, the two couples had choreographed a unique solution to the lack of fathers to give away the brides. Hilary and Sandy started their walk together from the back of the stage, heading downstage, slightly stage left. At the same time, step for step, Joy and Robert strolled forward to settle beside them, slightly stage right.

The grooms were in black tuxedos with snowy white shirts and bow ties. They stood on the outside with the brides in the centre.

Hilary’s gown was creamy white satin, streamlined down to the ground, showing off her elegant, feminine shape. The back was cut low to her waist, and the neckline sat at her collarbones. In her upswept hair perched a glittering rhinestone tiara. A sheer lacy veil trailed from the tiara, billowing back and attaching to her tapered sleeves. The slit that ran up the back of her gown revealed more of the sheer lacy fabric.

Joy had chosen a three-piece ensemble of shades of cream. The floor-length skirt draped becomingly from her waist, flaring at the back to create a train. A silky camisole dipped to reveal a lace bodice beneath, and was completed with an open bolero jacket of the same fabric as the skirt. Joy had chosen not to wear a veil at all, but a small diamond tiara similar to Hilary’s glinted in the lights through her freshly coiffed silver curls.

In the plush purple seats below sat the invited guests, whose attentive faces showed their appreciation of this magical service.

The two couples had agreed that the service be performed by the same clergyman who had married Rory and Christine five years earlier. They logically concluded that since that marriage had worked so well, why not duplicate, and triplicate, the success?

The local pastor slowly and with a great sense of occasion walked up the four stairs to the stage. He wore a white clerical collar, and a simple black suit covered his ample stomach. He carried a large, flat, black leather book.

As the couples walked to the lip of the stage, Ambrose Brown whispered in Abby’s ear. “I’m going now, Abby. My vigil is complete. Robert will live the rest of his life happily, and I will finally get some rest. It was nice meeting you.”

“I loved meeting you, Ambrose,” said Abby as quietly as possible. “Will I ever see you again?” She moved her lips only slightly.

“You’ll see me again, just not when you expect it. Will you miss me?”

“Of course I’ll miss you! I’ve grown to adore you. And you’ve taught me so much.”

“I’m glad you recognize that, Abby. Most youth are callow. You’ll have a great career, if you work hard at it. Now, goodbye, and God bless.”

Ambrose was gone. It wasn’t like other times. Abby knew he was really gone, up to heaven or wherever spirits go to rest. She was happy that Ambrose was at peace at last, but she felt a great tug of loneliness in the pit of her stomach, and she wiped a tear from her eye.

“Are you all right?” asked Sandy’s friend Luke, with a worried expression on his face. “And do you always talk to yourself?”

“Only when I feel like it,” she answered sweetly, batting her eyelashes. She heard Ambrose laugh his approval.

The wedding march ended with the wedding party fanning out to create a semicircle behind the brides and grooms. The pastor, with his back to the congregation, stood erect and breathed deeply, taking a long dramatic pause before beginning his task. He importantly opened his mouth to speak.

There was a thunderous knocking at the side door fire exit, stage right. Everyone was startled. The pastor turned to look. The great disturbance continued, shattering the mood and alarming everyone in the theatre. It sounded like a battering ram.

Hilary James suddenly gasped with recognition. She ran in her elegant wedding gown, veil flying out behind her, down the stage stairs to the double doors. She unlatched them and threw them open.

Dancer stood outside, eyes blazing, front right leg ready to knock again.

“Dancer!” Hilary cried aloud.

The mighty chestnut stallion snorted indignantly. He tossed his majestic head and whinnied imperiously. Rearing up on his powerful haunches, the sleek horse pawed the air and whinnied again. When he felt that he’d sufficiently expressed his displeasure at his exclusion, he dropped down and proudly walked through the doors. He gently nudged Hilary with his nose to ask her to walk along with him, an invitation she gracefully accepted.

Together they arrived at the stage. Hilary ascended the stairs and took her place. Dancer stood regally in the aisle, cooly assessing the wedding party and guests.

Hilary smiled broadly. She squeezed the hand of the astonished Sandy and winked at Joy and Robert, whose eyes had widened in amazement. It was clear to everyone that there was no point in trying to remove him from the theatre.

It was as if he had come to give Hilary away. Hilary’s eyes blurred with sudden tears as she thought of her father and how much it would’ve meant to have him with her on this special day.

Dancer was the most serious creature there. He stood with pride and dignity as everyone around him convulsed with surprised laughter. It came and went in waves. The laughter would subdue, then rise up again, one person’s chuckle reinfecting the others.

When the uproar finally subsided, the pastor began the service. People accepted the sight of the large animal in the audience, but when the pastor asked the question, “Does anyone know of any reason why these men and these women should not be joined in holy matrimony? Speak now or forever hold your peace,” Dancer snorted. The entire crowd lost control once more.

The pastor threw up his hands in dismay. He slammed his leather book shut and stomped down the stairs.

Rory stopped laughing immediately. His son Sandy would be devastated if this marriage didn’t happen. He ran to the pastor, who brushed him off and hastened toward the exit. The friends and family of the two couples suddenly realized that it wasn’t funny, and every eye in the house was on the pastor.

Pete Pierson covered a lot of ground for a man with an arthritic hip, and reached the pastor just as he was opening the door. The portly pastor rudely pushed him aside and stepped out of the side entrance door.

There Cody stood, legs braced with astonishment, wondering where this man had come from and whether or not he should run for the hills.

The pastor screamed hoarsely. “A wolf! Help me! Help me!”

“Quick!” yelled Pete, suppressing a grin, “Come back inside before he rips out your throat!”

Rory caught on quickly. He barked, “Close the door or we’ll all be mauled!”

The pastor had turned completely white. With Pete on one side of him and Rory on the other, he was walked back up onto the stage.

Pete whispered in his ear, “Get on with the vows, and make it fast.”

The pastor nodded obediently, rigid with fear.

“D-d-d-do you, Joy Drake Featherstone, take this man, Robert Wick, as your lawful wedded husband, to have and to hold, through sickness and in health, through richer and poorer, until death do you part?”

“I do.” Joy looked lovingly into Robert’s shining eyes.

“Do you, Robert Wick, take this woman, Joy Drake Featherstone, as your lawful wedded wife, to have and to hold, through sickness and in health, through richer and poorer, until death do you part?”

“I do.” Robert’s voice cracked with emotion, and his eyes threatened to overflow.

“Do you, Hilary Marie James, take this man, Sandford Casey, as your lawful wedded husband, to have and to hold, through sickness and in health, through richer and poorer, until death do you part?”

“I do.” Hilary’s lips trembled as she looked at the man she loved. She felt like she would melt away with happiness.

“Do you, Sandford Casey, take this woman, Hilary Marie James, as your lawful wedded wife, to have and to hold, through sickness and in health, through richer and poorer, until death do you part?”

“I do.” Sandy passionately reached for Hilary. He took her in his arms and was about to kiss her on the lips.

“Wait for it!” scolded the pastor harshly. Sandy paused, smiling mischievously at his almost-wife.

“I now pronounce you husbands and wives. You may kiss your brides.”

Loud peals of joyful wedding music filled the theatre as Sandy and Hilary kissed, sealing their marriage to each other. The rest of the world was far away. They were alone in their own secret bubble, unaware of the clamorous well-wishers surrounding them.

Dancer stood quietly in the aisle.

Joy and Robert were locked in a romantic embrace, making wishes. To live a long and healthy life together. To never lose the magic of their love. For the strength to support and nurture each other through good times and bad. For the ability to focus on the positives and lighten up on the negatives. To have the common sense to adjust to each other, making compromises when called for. To never forget what they loved about each other.

Abby watched in awe. She saw the bond that tied these couples together. Grandmother and granddaughter, generations apart, both in love and both feeling the same intensity of love.

Maybe the heart didn’t have to get old at the same rate as the body, Abby mused. She knew people her age who were already jaded and apathetic. And the Piersons remained young in spirit and in mind even though their bodies were wearing out.

She looked over at them. Pete and Laura were dancing to Joy’s wedding selection, arms tightly holding each other, smiles lighting up their faces. Louis Armstrong’s “What a Wonderful World” reminded everyone how lucky they were to be alive.

Abby smiled, too. She was happy for everyone. Happy for Hilary and Sandy, starting their life together. Happy for Joy and Robert, who’d found each other after many years apart. Happy for the Piersons, Rory and Christine, her parents, and even Ambrose Brown.

Hilary and Joy turned to the wedding party, ready to throw their bouquets.

“One, two, three,” they called in unison. Pulling their arms back, Hilary and her grandmother Joy tossed the flowers with a healthy force, petals floating to the stage floor.

To her extreme delight, Rosalyn Casey caught Hilary’s bouquet. “I caught it! I caught it! I’m the next to marry!”

Abby caught Joy’s. She clutched it to her chest. She suddenly realized that she didn’t want to get married in the foreseeable future. She had too much to do, too much to see. And she would make very sure that she married the right man, or she’d never marry at all. She vowed to fulfill her own dreams in life, and consider marriage only when, or if, it was undeniably the thing she wanted.

Across the stage, Abby waved her thanks to Joy, and grinned at her new friend. Joy smiled back.

Abby felt a paw on her leg.

“Cody!” She looked down into her coyote’s intense, imploring grey eyes. “It’ll be hard to find a human who loves me as much as you do.” She knelt and scratched his ears. He was a hero in the community. Every person at the wedding today would have been injured, or worse, if Cody hadn’t disengaged the fuse.

“How did you get in?” she wondered aloud to her pet. “The doors are all shut.”

“I let him in, Abby,” said Sam with a wink. “He looked so sad when the pastor screamed at him.”

He stood in the wings, hands in his suit pockets, head slightly tilted.

Abby stood and faced him.

“Dance?” Sam asked.

Abby nodded. He gently held her hand in his larger one, and placed his strong arm around her waist. She stepped into his embrace and closed her eyes. They danced on the stage of The Stonewick Playhouse to the music of the wedding quartet.

Cody cocked his head and flicked his tail. Dancer nickered softly.