My Big Fat Supernatural Wedding Read online

  "Now you calling my momma a liar?" Ester pulled away from the reverend's protective hug and squared her shoulders.

  "Don't start with me, Ester," Rupert warned. "You don't want none-a this."

  "You talking ill of my momma and put my boy in harm's way— whatchu think I got for your old ass, huh! If ya hadn't a went up to Zeek at the store and tried to rub his nose in it about his wife, which was a lie, then he wouldn't have tol' his sisters the rumor you-all had started to get his goat! Don't you Forget, I'm a Jones, and—"

  "I ain't scairt of no Idell and Roy!" Rupert yelled, even though Melville had backed up a step. "Wasn't our fault that Zeek took things that far."

  "It was his wife. Whatchu think the man was gonna do? Stand around and let her have an affair with my Jeb?"

  "Now, listen to me, all of y'all!" Reverend Mitchell shouted. "We's gonna have us a wedding that might just, For once in history, bring both of these Families tagetha. And y'all needs to know this— I done called out the old prayer warriors in the church to put a hard line around anybody conjuring, spell-casting, or dabbling in hoodoo over these young folks. If ya send so much as a chicken foot to each other, it'll jump up and backfire on the sender. Oh, we's vigilant on this one. Grandma Jones and Nana Robinson done tol' on both sides!"

  With that, the reverend straightened his lapels, tipped his hat, turned on his heels, and walked back down the front steps to the dusty yard path.

  Someone was pounding on his door so hard that he and his sister, Effie, thought it was the police. Ezekiel HatField rushed with his sis­ter through the small clapboard house and did a double take when he spied Nana Robinson through the screen.

  "I know that cow ain't on our porch," Effie grumbled under her breath as Ezekiel opened the door.

  He stared at the rotund old woman who had her fleshy arms Folded over her huge breasts and who had come out in such a rush that she still had on pink bedroom slippers and a flower-printed housecoat, with her hair tied up in a sheer scarf. Mostly, that wasn't Nana Robinson's style. Under normal conditions, even he had to admit that the old bat wore a very fine church hat and was dressed accordingly, which was the only time he ever saw her. Worry creased his brow. The one and only thing that could have brought old lady Robinson to his door had to be something related to his baby girl.

  With that in mind, Ezekiel shushed his sister. "Nana Robinson, you at my Front door For a good reason?"

  "You know I am, Zeek. So, I ain't gonna mince no words. Your daughter's in trouble. Powerful trouble. And it's in your hands now."

  He felt his body slump against the door frame as his sister's palm slid to his shoulder in support.

  "My daughter Maylene, rest her soul in heaven, must be spinnin' in her grave."

  "What happened to my baby girl?" Ezekiel whispered. "Just tell me, Nana. Please." Before the elderly woman could answer, he spun on his sister. "I thought you said you-all had something to keep that girl from getting knocked up, so she could get her education?"

  "We did," Effie said, wringing her hands. "Aw, Lawd . . . who's the daddy? We can strike his ass dead, if—"

  "She gittin' married, and the girl ain't done all-a that."

  "Married?" both Hatfield siblings said at once, incredulous.

  "When?" Effie asked, putting both hands on her hips.

  "More important—to who? Ain't nobody ask me could they steal my baby," Ezekiel said, his voice becoming loud as he walked out onto the porch.

  Nana Robinson smiled. "Ester McCoy's boy, who's just about to graduate From law school in two weeks."

  "Aw, hell no!" Ezekiel roared, walking in a circle.

  "That ain't gonna happen," Effie spat, and stepped out onto the porch, letting the door slam loudly shut behind her.

  "It's outta your hands," Nana Robinson warned. "I done called both Reverend and Opal Kay—Rev will be by here directly, after he breaks the news to Ester . . . but Opal Kay gots somethin' fer ya, if y'all HatFields start some mess."

  "Opal Kay ain't got nothin' to do with this," Effie yelled as she hurried back into the house and closed the screen door behind her and then glared at Nana Robinson through the flimsy divide.

  "My baby ain't marrying no McCoy!" Ezekiel raged. "Over my dead body."

  "That's a promise," Nana Robinson said, pointing a crocked fin­ger at him. "That's my grandbaby, too—don't you fergit it. Just 'cause I got arthuritis don't mean I'm rusty. Plus, we done formed an alliance—Joneses stand with Robinsons!"

  "You threatening me, old lady?"

  He leaned down in her face but backed up as her eyes narrowed.

  "I ain't threatening you; I'm tellin' ya what Jesus knows." Before Ezekiel could step back farther, Nana Robinson whipped out a little black satchel from her ample cleavage. "This from both alliance clans," she said with a tight smile.

  "Uhmmm-hmmm, ain't ready is ya, caught ya by surprise attack," the old woman said, triumphant. "So, don't make me drop this on your porch, fool, because we can do this the old-fashioned way, or keep some civilities. But ya best tell your sister and all the rest of them Hatfield heifers, they done come up against the entire Robinson-Jones coclans—plus we gots Ester McCoy standing with us, and one in the grave, my daughter, who will help us for her daughter—she one-a ours. All the mothers, dead or alive, is united. Don't you fergit how this all works and be dumb enough to let in­surance money make y'all stupid. Speak now, or forever hold your peace. We's having a wedding."

  "Them McCoys sent fever over to my wife, your daughter. How you gonna let that go?" Although Ezekiel Hatfield's tone was angry, his voice had lowered a bit in fearful respect.

  "I ain't forgot. But that was only 'cause your sisters started up the feud again by sending a lightning bolt over there to kill Ester's hus­band, thinking my daughter was low-life enough to be runnin' on you, Zeek. She wasn't messin' with Jeb, and you know it. Then you was all weeping and a-wailing up in church at my child's funeral, when ya found out the girl had only gone over there to try to strike a peace bond, given both families had little babies and it was time for the nonsense to stop. Them kids was a matched pair since birth; ev'y-body knows it. So, I'll blame you for listening to rumors, and for your false accusations, as well as your sisters for that misjudgment, till the end of time!" The old woman walked in a hot circle, tears rising in her cataract-stricken eyes. "Enough is enough! Why . . . you know I oughta jus' drop this bag any ole way, and—"

  "Naw, naw, naw, now, Nana Robinson, we all remember full well how thangs got outta hand before."

  "Uhmmm-hmmm," Nana muttered, and begrudgingly stashed her bag back between her breasts in a huff. "Ester's son is jus' a baby, like our Odelia. They's kids in love, so you-all best quit it. Don't test me."

  "What hurts so bad is that my baby girl didn't come to her daddy with the news, first. I shouldn'ta found out like this."

  "Well, if you-all wasn't acting such a fool, mayhaps the girl woulda came home and told you to your face, rather than called her nana crying her eyes out on the phone. She's scairt something gonna happen to that boy, and rightly so, 'cause she knows how y'all do. Call a truce, Zeek—right here and right now. She been a good girl, and ought'na have to have a heavy heart while she's about to gradu­ate from college like that. If her momma was still alive, she'd have someone to help her buy her dress, and all the things a bride is sup­posed to have. Really, you should go on and send that girl her momma's old dress, just out of kindness. But you're as ornery as an old rattlesnake, and even with that, your daughter wants your bless­ing." Nana Robinson stomped her feet as her hands went to her wide hips. "I cannot believe you'd do your own child this way; even for you, Ezekiel Hatfield, this is above and beyond."

  The two combatants stared at each other.

  "Truce," Ezekiel finally said, looking away, his tone a contrite grumble.

  "Truce? Truce! You crazy, Zeekie?" Effie screeched from where she stood inside the screen door. "There ain't no way—"

  "My baby girl's involved," Ezekiel said, coming
between both women. "Might git her or a grandbaby hurt. We call off the dogs, Effie."

  "Like I said," Nana Robinson stated as she gave Effie the evil eye and then turned on the porch ready to leave. "We's having a wed­ding, pure and simple, and y'all are gonna act right."

  Jefferson and Odelia stayed together, wide-eyed, nervous, and under extremely platonic circumstances, practically joined at the hip, each half-afraid to let the other go to the bathroom alone. Every errand that needed to be run was done in partnership, because who knew what could befall one of them if he or she even went to the store independently? The trip to the courthouse to file for a marriage li­cense was viewed as a dangerous mission.

  Both parents had called that first night, their voices distraught. Jefferson's mother had broken down and openly wept. Any libido Jefferson and Odelia had was killed. Her Father's voice was strained and punctuated with long, disappointed silences, but word that a truce had been activated, slowly, let Odelia and Jefferson breathe.

  "You think it's all right if we sleep together on your couch?" Jef-Ferson asked, still jumpy, after she hung up the telephone.

  "As long as we don't get into anything, I think we might be all right," she said, sounding unsure.

  "Tell you what," he offered. "How about if I sleep in the chair, you take the couch, but at least that way, we can both stay in the same room?"

  "Yo, man—you getting married and you wanna bring your fiancee to the bachelor party? Have you lost your mind?" His best friend laughed hard.

  Jefferson steadied himself as he held his cell phone close to his ear. "Man, listen, it's complicated. I can't go into it right now."

  "She's still at your apartment? Or you still over at hers? Ever since you dropped the rock on a sister, you've been in prison. All the cam­pus parties, you been there with her . . . And dude, for real, like, this might be your last hoorah as a free man."

  "Hugh, you're supposed to be my best man. The one who's gonna keep me straight until I—"

  "That's what I'm trying to do, partner. A few hours away won't hurt none."

  Jefferson watched Odelia as she buzzed around the kitchen in his tiny apartment. A sense of claustrophobia had him in its grip. Two weeks of being together, Finding ways to entertain themselves with­out kissing too much or laying a hand on each other, was driving him nuts. "My Folks are coming in later tonight For everything. I can't be going out, getting tore up, plus that goes against everything Minister said, and—"

  "C'mon, man. We'll have you back at a decent hour. You know me, right?"

  "Yeah, I know you. That's what I'm worried about."

  "But ain't it bad luck to be with or see the bride the night before the wedding?"

  Jefferson paused. His homeboy did have a point. "Yeah. . . ,"

  "Well, how about if we take a brother out For a Few, and deliver you to the Motel 6 where your people will be, and then you can hang out with your uncles till it's time to put on your cap and gown over your suit. Then, you lose the robes, I pin on your boutonniere, and we roll over to the church so you can get hitched—then we all eat, party . . . everything will be copasetic."

  "That might be able to work," Jefferson said. "But I gotta talk to 'Delia about that, First."

  "Awww, maaaan. Do you hear yourself? What did the girl do, works roots on your ass, or something?"

  Odelia looked up From the stove and met Jefferson's eyes.

  "That ain't Funny, brother. Don't even joke like that."

  It was the first real argument they'd had since the day they met. She couldn't fathom how men could be so stupid! Carlah had been right. Maybe it was better that she got away from Jefferson for a few hours to connect with her girls, to do what she had to do, namely, get her hair beat, feet did, nails did, and spend quality female time without a male appendage.

  Carlah was waiting for her on the front steps of her apartment building holding a FedEx box when Jefferson dropped her off. The sly smile on her best girlfriend's Face made Odelia smile, despite her Foul mood.

  "Yo, my sister, my sister—you finally broke free!" Carlah laughed and rushed up to Odelia to hug her the moment Jefferson's car pulled away. "Dayum. I know the brother put a rock on your hand, and I can appreciate being in a love jones with a fine man like that, but ya gotta come up for air, baby."

  "It wasn't like that," Odelia said laughing.

  "Oh, pullease," Carlah fussed, grabbing Odelia's hand and hold­ing it up to the sunlight. "The man puts two cold karats on you, practically locks you away in y'all's apartments for two weeks, and you want me to believe he slept on the couch?" Carlah thrust the FedEx box at Odelia. "Give up the tapes. Details. Is he worth mar­rying, doing the till-death-do-you-part thing?"

  "He's worth marrying," Odelia said, shaking her head and chuckling as she snatched the box from her friend, but refusing to say more.

  "Hot-damn, I knew it. I'm too jealous, but it's all good. Tomor­row, we turn our tassels, throw our hats, and then you go out in white."

  The statement ran through Odelia like ice water—the part about going out in white. Rather than focus on that as a possibility, she tore open the box and stood very still.

  "What is it?" Carlah peered over the edge of the box as Odelia carefully extracted white fabric wrapped in plastic.

  She would know her father's scrawl anywhere, and as soon as she saw white and not feathers, she knew he'd finally given his blessing. As gingerly as possible, she pulled the dress out and held it to her body, while Carlah snatched away the box and rooted within it for a note that didn't exist.

  "Whoa . . . ," Carlah said, amazed. "Your dai sent your mom's dress?"

  "Yeah," Odelia whispered, gazing at the dress. The fabric sud­denly became blurry as she smoothed the plastic-ensconced gown against her body. "Something really crazy had to go down."

  "Girl," Carlah said, slinging an arm over her shoulder. "You're so paranoid. Just put it upstairs, we go eat, and go get ourselves beauti­ful for tomorrow. What could go wrong?"

  Odelia simply nodded and took out her keys, too afraid to hazard a guess.

  "Oh, shit!" Hugh hollered, and kicked his tire. "Brand-new truck jacked, right before graduation? Man, how am I gonna tell my people about this?"

  Jefferson kept trying his cell phone that oddly didn't work.

  "A black cat runs outta nowhere, I swerve, and now my beautiful candy red baby has no Front end? Look at her, man! I shoulda run over that Freaking thing and made it road pizza!"

  True enough; the Front of Hugh's new ride was Folded in on itself like an accordion, radiator smoking.

  "We're lucky to be alive, man. Let's Focus on that. Your cell phone working? I can't get reception."

  Hugh sighed and flipped open his cellular. "Damn. I can't get none either."

  "All right, so we walk till we can find a store or something, and then call For a tow."

  "Are you crazy?" Carlah screamed, making all heads in the salon turn in unison. "My hair is green! I'm graduating tomorrow! I'm in a wedding! My maid-of-honor dress is sky blue! This won't work!" Odelia flung the dryer hood back and stood up. Her girlfriend, who was normally a sandy almond brunette, looked like a punk rocker. "They can fix it; they can fix it," she said, rushing over to Carlah to try to console her as shrieks gave way to sobs. Oh, Lord, it was starting.

  "Tell me again why we are sitting in the back of a police car? I'm still trying to wrap my brain around this, man," Hugh said quietly.

  "Because you decided to go up to a house, against my warning, and the old lady in there thought it was about to be a home inva­sion," Jefferson replied evenly while he stared out the window.

  "My hair is now hideous, doo-doo brown," Carlah said picking at her salad, her eyes puffy "With my complexion, dog poop brown does not work."

  Odelia hadn't touched her meal; all she could do was look at Car-lah's once gorgeous tresses that were now redyed to a garish color that made her very pale cafe au lait skin seem cadaverous. The green­ish tinge beneath the layered-on color was s
till very noticeable in the light. "It'll be all right, sweetie," Odelia said, guilt lacerating her. "It just has to—"

  "I'm suing them. I promise you. Feel the texture of it; they turned it into straw with overprocessing." New tears filled Carlah's eyes and fell into her salad.

  Odelia handed Carlah a tissue and grasped her hand. "As soon as I can get ahold of Jeff, we'll figure out what you have to do to sue them, all right."

  "I don't feel good," Carlah said. "I need to go lie down."

  "Okay, okay, we can do that," Odelia said quickly, and tried to hail a very slow-coming waitress.

  But before Odelia could get their server's attention, Carlah was out of her chair, screaming. All heads turned in the restaurant, and several waiters rushed over. To everyone's horror, beneath the top lettuce leaves, fat, black beetles had begun to emerge from Carlah's plate. Odelia almost fell over her chair in the scramble to get away from the toxic table. Her girlfriend dry-heaved and then lost her lunch in the middle of an aisle. Nearby patrons shrieked and stood. Odelia crossed herself and ran to her friend's side, hurrying her from the establishment so she could get air, ignoring the apologies and the commotion that ensued behind them. When a crow flew by and crapped on Carlah's head, Odelia just hustled her shrieking girlfriend to the car.

  It was all she could do to get Carlah settled down enough to drive her back to campus. Once she and Carlah's sorority sister, Gwen, had gotten Carlah to lie down with a cold wet compress over her face, Odelia headed for the Red Roof Inn, where her people were holed up. The only way she'd been able to get Carlah to let go of her hand was to promise to call the media and get Jefferson to make both the offending salon and the filthy restaurant his first legal cases.

  During the entire short drive to the motel, Odelia could feel rage strangling her. By the time she made it to the lobby, she could barely speak into the house phone.

  "Aunt Effie," she demanded, "where's—"

  "Hi, baby! Congratulations! We all so proud, and just—"

  "Where's Daddy? What room are y'all in?"