My Big Fat Supernatural Wedding Page 2

  "I love you," she Finally said, and tried to put a bit more distance between their bodies, even while still in his embrace.

  For a moment, he didn't answer. The look on his Face was that of a tortured man. She expected the kiss that was coming, but instead he only swept her mouth, bent his neck, and spilled a series of hot, wet kisses along the edge of her tank top until she writhed.

  "I love you, too," he said against her breast, and then captured a nipple between his lips and suckled it through her shirt.

  He'd never touched her there before, had only held her arms, stroked her back, or caressed her face. No man had ever touched her secret places. The closest they'd gotten to that was hot friction on a sofa, their hands afraid to explore further. The sensation was exqui­site; the gasp that escaped her was immediate. It made her fit herself against the hard length in his jeans and grind against it to staunch the sweet pain, even though her mind screamed for her not to.

  But she couldn't pull away as his free hand cupped one tender, swollen lobe and then began to roll the distended tip of it between his fingers while his mouth played havoc with her will, wetting her tank top as it attended the other. Before she knew it, her top had been lifted to expose her bare flesh, and the sensation of his mouth against her skin put tears in her eyes. The word "don't" formed and fled on a whimper as he nuzzled the ache within her to fever pitch. Somehow her hand slipped between them on its own volition, touching a part of him she'd dared not before, and the sound that es­caped him nearly buckled her knees.

  Harsh kisses pelted her face as rain began to fall. A spell be damned, she couldn't hold out for a minister or a judge, nor could Jeff. They had all they needed—each other, privacy, a blanket, and a vow to marry. The intent was clear; today would be the day. Storm clouds would be their witness. There was no stopping love. She be­gan unfastening his jeans.

  A bright flash of lightning, Followed by an instantaneous loud crack and heavy thunder, made them both stop, look at each other, and then jerk their attention toward the huge pine tree a hundred yards away that had been split clean in two.

  "Shit . . . ," Jefferson murmured, and stepped back From her.

  Odelia nodded, and Fixed her top. "It's a sign."

  He nodded. "Baby, listen . . . there's something I need to talk to you about."

  "I know," she said, her gaze flitting between him and the angry sky. It had eerily stopped raining, but the overhead threat was still very real. "I've gotta talk to you, too."

  "How about if we talk about it in my hoopty on the way home?" he said, gathering up the blanket as she snatched up the basket of abandoned food.

  "Ya think?"

  Racing to the car, they both jumped into his rusted-out white '87 Ford Tempo jalopy at the same time. They simultaneously turned to look at each other when Jefferson gunned the motor and another bolt of lightning struck the spot under the tree they'd just fled From.

  "My family," they both said in unison.

  "You First," he said, peeling down the small gravel and dirt road.

  "Uh-uh. Not out here," she said, wiping her Face with both palms.

  "Yours, too? That's all you gotta say."

  She stared at him as he drove. "Yours?"

  "Yeah. Mine."

  "They . . ."

  "Yeah—they do all of that. Baby, I was hoping that all this stuff they always told us was really just a bunch of superstitious hocus-pocus, but now I don't know. . . ."

  Odelia glanced up at the sky again with Jefferson as he stepped on the accelerator. The sun had mysteriously come out. Their words were a quiet, unified confirmation embedded in a terrified whisper.

  "Family roots."

  To Odelia's mind, there was only one solution: call Nana Robinson. Her mother's mother wasn't a Hatfield and was a powerful woman in her own right. She had never accepted her youngest girl marrying a Hatfield and then dying way too young from a mysterious fever that claimed her the night of a horrible storm. Odelia had only been a crib baby then, but the family oral history on the event was cloaked in whispers and murmurs.

  Odelia sat in the car outside her apartment and kept a close watch on Jefferson's expression as she told him about her kin. To her sur­prise, the man only rubbed his palms down his Face and sighed, seeming weary, and then confessed the most outrageous set of cir­cumstances, which eerily paralleled her own.

  "So what are we gonna do?" she finally asked, relieved that her fi­ance didn't think she was crazy. She'd been fully prepared to slip the engagement ring off her Finger and return it.

  "I need to go on ahead and meet your daddy, and do this the way men gotta do."

  Odelia sat back in her seat. "Are you nuts? With your last name,

  you wanna go into Hatfield territory to meet my daddy before we get married?" She shook her head no.

  "It's the only way. Can't stand another minute not being with you, girl. We gonna have to try to reason with our Folks, and you're eventually gonna have to meet my momma, too. That's all there is to it—she ain't no real McCoy, just upholds the traditions on account of the Fact that I got thirteen uncles that ain't to be trifled with."

  Odelia closed her eyes and slumped back in the passenger's seat. "Can you see it now, Jefferson? My thirteen angry Hatfield aunts squaring off with your thirteen uncles, and all our cousins by blood at the same wedding? My daddy just goes along with the git along to keep the peace and to probably stay alive. But my aunt Effie ain't no joke."

  "My uncle Rupert is the McCoy ringleader on my side. But we'll have all the Robinsons From your momma's side and all the Jones clan From my momma's side as a buffer. They'll all be there, since both me and you are the first ones graduating beyond high school on all Four sides. So, the way I see it, if I can get my momma's momma, Grandma Jo, to help us out—'cause she ain't no McCoy but ain't no slouch, either—maybe we can get through the ceremony. Who knows? Don't worry. My grandma still ain't square with the way my momma, her daughter, ran off to marry my daddy, a McCoy. We still don't know how or why lightning struck a tree that Fell on his car and killed him when I was two. I'm half scared to speculate, girl. Just trust me when I say, though, Grandma Jo got some juice, too."

  This was a shaky plan; Odelia could Feel it in her bones. But there was no denying how badly she wanted to be with this man. Despite the Fear, her body still burned For him. It was all over his Face, too. Passion denied was a powerful lure.

  "We do this together," he said, pressing his point when she'd taken too long to respond. "We go up to your apartment, and make the heads-up calls... get a temporary truce in effect, so we can safely drive down home together. All right?"

  "Okay," she said, hedging, "but how about if we don't drive down there, have them come up here to campus, and throw the grad­uation party-wedding reception right at the church on campus?"

  "You got a point, 'Delia," he said, nodding. "Might be prudent to let Reverend Mitchell from down home co-officiate with Pastor Wise From up here, just to be on the safe side."

  "Yup. You remember how it was back home: Hatfields on one side of that little church, and McCoys on the other. But if you cut out Reverend Mitchell, who knows how to deal with our kin, then that poor local pastor won't know what hit him."

  "See, girl, we're on the same page," Jefferson said, opening his car door.

  Odelia got out of the car, glancing around and wondering if she was missing her mind.

  "What!" Nana Robinson shouted, Forcing Odelia to briefly remove the telephone receiver from her ear.

  "Nana, I love him, and need—"

  "Chile, you go on and get that marriage license straightaway and book the church," her grandmother fussed. "You let me deal with one Ezekiel Hatfield, ornery SOB, even if he is yo' daddy. Serves him right; that ain't nuthin' but the Lord setting the record straight. Probably yo' momma up in heaven orchestrating yo' daddy's pay­back. So, don't you fret. Awe's having us a wedding, baby! I'll marshal up Opal Kay, you hear me? My sister can go up against all them Hat­field heifers who
think they can conjure. My grandbaby girl done us all proud, gots her education, ain't brung us no babies home, ain't been out in the worl' fornicatin', and snagged herself a lawya—I don't care what his last name is. Humph! Plus, any monies due you by way of your momma's soul going on to glory by rights is supposed to stay with her chile, not them!"

  "Thank you, Nana. I love you," was all Odelia could say as she watched Jefferson shift from foot to foot close by.

  "I love you, too, baby," her nana said. "Stay strong. I'm calling in reinforcements. Bye-bye."

  When the call disconnected, Odelia and Jefferson just stared at each other for a moment.

  She handed him the cordless phone. "It's started. Nana just mounted up a war party."

  He sighed and accepted the receiver from Odelia and then punched in the number he knew by heart. Growing impatient, he waited for the tenth ring, knowing that his grandmother didn't be­lieve in technology, by way of an answering machine.

  "Who dis here?" a surly elderly voice finally said once the call connected.

  "Grandma Jo, it's your boy, Jefferson."

  "Oh, my Lawd in heaven! Chile, whatchu doing calling this ole lady on the phone out of the blue, my Favorite grandbaby?"

  Jefferson hesitated. "Grandma, I've got a problem."

  Quiet Filled the line.

  "Now, baby," the old woman said slowly, "you know Gawd don't put nuthin' more on you than you can bear. Tell Grandma what's wrong."

  "I met this girl; she's real nice, real—"

  "She pregnant, son?"

  "No, no, it ain't like that," Jefferson said in a rush, glancing at Odelia, embarrassed by the charge. "She's real sweet, a church girl I met at college, and I wanna marry her, now that I'm fixin' to gradu­ate, but. . ."

  "Then go on and do the right thing by her, boy. Marry that girl; if she passes yo' inspection, I know she'll pass mine. That ain't no problem. You grown, and did mighty right by yo'self. We's all proud of you."

  He let out an exasperated sigh. "She's a HatField, Grandma. I Fell in love with her before I actually knew that this spell stuff was real." It wasn't the complete truth, but explaining the whole thing in ex­cruciating detail was just too much to deal with.

  Again, silence Filled the line, and Jefferson closed his eyes, waiting.

  "Well, that does create a sticky wicket now, don't it?" his grand­mother said, letting out a huff of breath.

  "Grandma ... I can't have nothin' happen to her; you know what I'm saying?"

  "'Deed I do," his grandmother said angrily. "I can't countenance them McCoys worth a damn! Not that I'm casting aspersions on you, suga', but you know how I Feel about yo' daddy's people. I ain't two-faced about it; they all knows how us Joneses feel, especially yo' momma. She know it—so I ain't talking behind no backs. When you fittin' to marry this chile?"

  "I wanted to marry Odelia when everybody came up here for my graduation, to save everybody a double trip and the double ex­pense . . . since we were all gonna be up here at one time. She's graduating that day, too, so—"

  "You was trying to kill two birds with one stone, like it would make sense to do. I hear you, chile. You ain't gotta go into no deep explanations for yo' ole grandma. I know how them McCoys act. Figured up in a public setting, they might jus' mind they p's and q's. But I wouldn't count on it." His grandmother sighed and let out a grunt. "We needs insurance."

  Jefferson's shoulders slumped and Odelia went to him to hold his hand for support. "Grandma, I can't have nothing crazy happen to her, and I'm trying my best to do the right thing . . . we wanna be together, and every time . . ."

  "They still got that mess on you, son, so you can't even half kiss her? No wonder you half crazy and ready to jump the broom like a fugitive," his grandmother practically shouted. "Lack-a-nookie at your age ain't healthy, boy."

  "Grandma!" He dropped Odelia's hand, ashamed, and walked across the room.

  "Don't you 'grandma' me," the elderly lady said, becoming indig­nant. "I know all about the birds and the bees, and been young once. That don't make no sense. Besides, I heard all about it from your momma, who's been worried sick about it ever since your money-grubbing uncles put it on ya! Now you hear me and hear me good, chile. You go on and get the day booked at the church. We Joneses is coming up there, and we bringing plenty to eat with us. They betta not start. I'ma call Reverend Mitchell and tell him all about it, and how them McCoys is at it again! He'll put up a prayer line round you chil'ren,jus' like he did when you all was jus' babies on the tit. Then I'ma get my sister, I dell, and your uncle Roy on the case. While I don't dabble myself, I know people who gots a powerful conjure to go up against a McCoy root any day. They ain't the only ones who can git into a pot and stir it—and you know I must be mad as a wet hen, ifn' I'ma go there, as your grandma. Fit to be tied, is what I am! Might even call Mrs. Robinson so we Joneses and Robinsons can form an alliance."

  "Now, Grandma," Jefferson said, his voice quavering at the thought, "there's no call for an all-out Family—"

  "It's settled," his grandmother said flatly. "The dawgs of war have been called, and so help me Jesus, war it is. IF we Jonses stand with the Robinson clan, with the HatFields going up against the McCoys, their numbers will be less than ours. Weaker. Our mojo will prevail, have mercy!"

  He stared helplessly at Odelia, as she gestured wildly with her hands for a translation of the part of the conversation she couldn't hear.

  "Grandma, please," he said, his voice quiet.

  "Naw, baby. I got this. Now you jus' git off the tely-phone, and try your best to reserve yourself From laying a hand on your be­trothed For at least twenty-Four hours. Give Grandma some time to work it all out. . . jus' as a precautionary measure. I ain't dealt with this in a Few years and might be kinda rusty. So, let's stay on the safe side fer now. But we's having us a wedding."

  "Thanks, Grandma. I love you." What else was there to say?

  "That's right, baby. Now you c'mon and give Grand some suga' through the phone, and I'll be up there directly to git one in person."

  Jefferson kissed the receiver and simply shook his head.

  "Bye-bye, baby. It'll all work out." Then she was gone.

  The couple stood in the middle of the apartment floor, saying nothing as Jefferson clutched the cordless unit in his hand.

  "She called out the big guns, didn't she?" Odelia Finally whispered.

  He nodded. "Yep. It's on, now. The Joneses are Forming an al­liance with the Robinsons against the HatFields and the McCoys. Grandma is talking strength in numbers, given that the HatFields and McCoys are splintered against each other."

  Odelia closed her eyes and held on to the dinette table. "It was a really bad idea to call them, wasn't it?"

  "Yep. My bad."

  He and Odelia stared at each other For a moment and then burst out laughing.

  Ester McCoy stood on her Front porch with her brothers-in-law, Rupert and Melville, watching Reverend Mitchell huff up the walkway. Her momma had put out an all-points Family bulletin, and Ester hadn't seen Pastor look so upset since her late husband had passed away. Somehow she knew her dead husband had to be doing cartwheels in his grave. Her boy was gonna marry a Hatfield? More important, her son hadn't even told her about it himself and her child was now in harm's way? Oh yeah, the die had been cast and the dragon's teeth sown. After it was all said and done, she was a Jones, and would side with real blood over married blood any day of the week.

  She cut a withering glance toward her husband's kin. This had all gone too far—now the church was involved? But she pasted on her most mannerly smile as the elderly pastor tipped his hat and pro­ceeded up her porch steps.

  "Afternoon, Pastor. What brings you out on this lovely afternoon?"

  Reverend Mitchell set his jaw hard. "Ma'am," he said in a tight voice, and looked at her brothers-in-law. "You know I don't have no foolishness up in my church, right?"

  Rupert and Melville returned innocent, astonished gazes at the pastor.

  "Why
, Rev," Rupert said with a sly smile, "we don't know what would make you draw such a conclusion, that—"

  "I ain't drew no conclusion!" the reverend said, stomping his foot. "Don't tes' me, Rupert. I'm a man of the cloth, but I know these backwoods like the back of my own hand. Now you leave them children be so they can get married."

  "We's all for holy matrimony, Pastor," Melville said sheepishly. "Ain't we, Ester?"

  "The rat bastards is trying to root my boy!" Ester wailed, rushing over to Reverend Mitchell and burying her face against his shoulder. Her composure had fractured like a sudden storm. "They conjures is about to backfire, jus' like it took my husband, Jeb! I wanted my son to come home, but all in one piece and alive—which is the onliest reason I didn't come to you before. But if the boy is set on moving away and marrying, I want him to do well, and to give me some grands!"

  "Now, see," Reverend Mitchell said, stroking Ester's back while he set his furious gaze on Rupert and Melville. "Y'all needs ta cut it out, 'fore somebody gits hurt. Both sides been going at it for years, all over money and land, but now we got innocent kids in the middle."

  "You needs ta go tell the Hatfields to lay low. My brother died 'cause them Hatfields sent a lightning bolt at him, then claimed it was only supposed to be a warning shot over the bow," Melville protested. "Zeek Hatfield lied on my brother. Theys the ones who started it up again."

  "And Zeek Hatfield's wife just so happened to die of fever that same night," the reverend argued, "when the way I recollect it, the woman had come out in the rain on a mission of peace!"

  "That's right, she died, caught a cold, but we didn't have nuthin' to do with that, contrary to pop'lar opinions," Rupert said with a tight smile. "And ole lady Jones needs to stay out of family bizness and stop spreading mistruths."