6 The Wedding Read Free Page A

be held “in the eyes of God.” I think Reverend McNab might have seen through me, but Father White was
smiling benevolently at my choice of words.
    “What about First John?” the reverend suggested.
    I blinked and then pulled in my scattered wits. He probably meant 1 John 4:16-19 — So we have come to know and to believe the love that God has
for us.
    “That’s
a nice one,” I said.
    “Or what about Corinthians?” Father White said. “You can’t go wrong with Corinthians. Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or
rude. ”
    “Also a good choice.”
    “Or
Ephesians,” suggested McNab , looking sly.
    “No
Ephesians. Nobody does Ephesians anymore,” I said firmly. That was the one
about wives submitting to husbands. It seemed best that I take control. “Chuck
is fond of Ruth. You know the part about your people shall be my people ?”
    Both
men beamed.
    “Very appropriate, lass, with him coming to live here.”
    “You
might also consider Matthew— Therefore a man shall leave
his father and his mother and hold fast to his wife .”
    “Perfect,”
I said, just to get things over with. “Father White, you’ll do the verses from
Matthew and Ruth? You have such a lovely voice.”
    “Gladly.” He looked pleased with the compliment and his consolation prize.
    “Reverend,
you’ll do the ceremony?” It seemed the lesser evil. At least he wouldn’t call
anyone a bad name and threaten them with hellfire. Probably.
    “Of course. Now, let’s talk about readings from friends. And did you say that it
is Horace Goodhead who shall be giving you away? Has he been saved?”
    It was
all I could do to throttle a groan. Max sighed for me. He’s good that way.

 
 

Chapter 2

 
    It did not surprise me to find Wendell waiting on the wooden
bench outside my cabin. Max had begun to ululate the moment we left the
community center and he often does that when Wendell is nearby. Wendell’s
uncle, Old Thunder, had passed away last autumn and Wendell had been spending
more time in town since then. Usually he went to the Moose, but often he came
to visit Max and me.
    “Want to come in for some tea?” I asked by way of greeting.
    “Sure,” he said, giving Max a quick ear-rub. Wendell raised
Max when he was a pup and still had his sire. Max’s dam had recently whelped
and there were new puppies.
    “I heard the Janus brothers were in town.”
    Janus, for the two faces of God’s representatives. Wendell
wasn’t terribly fond of either man, but he followed the old ways and was
therefore considered by them to be a godless heathen. Which
was unfair because he definitely had a god. Or maybe several. We never really discussed it.
    “Yes. They’ve come to talk to me about the wedding.” I knew
I sounded glum and tried to find a smile as I pulled the tin kettle out of the
coals. It was nearly June but nights were still nippy and I had left the fire
banked after baking some scones.
    “Oddly enough, that’s what I’ve come to talk to you about
too. You have options, you know. You needn’t do this, if you don’t want to.”
    I froze for a second, the kettle in one hand, teapot in the other.
    Wendell and I had been an item—very briefly—the summer I
came to the Gulch. We were still fond of each other though there had been
nothing romantic between us for years. Still, I had a bad moment when I feared
that he might be trying to talk me out of getting married.
    “You know that I have been studying with the people.” He
went on. Wendell meant his native tribe, the Brokenhead ,
who were part of the Ojibway people. Wendell had opted to live away from the
birthplace, for reasons unexplained, but since his uncle’s death he had been
visiting them more often, sometimes traveling with Linda Skywater ,
the Bones’ common-law wife, when she went home for visits. “I would be honored
to perform the Wiidigendiwin for you.”
    I began pouring hot water into the teapot. I didn’t know what he