“Don’t worry,” I whispered in her ear. “I’ll take care of this.” I dashed from my spot at the altar to the middle of the aisle where the man had gone down. “Move back, y’all,” I shouted, waving my arms. “Give him some air.”
The crowd stepped back, seeming collectively relieved that someone else had taken charge. The string quartet began to play as if to distract everyone, and it appeared to work. I moved my fan in front of the man’s face; he was younger than I’d thought from farther back, maybe even just a little bit older than me, and that filled me with relief. No one would be dying at Daisy’s wedding. Not on my watch. And indeed, after only a minute of fanning, he opened his eyes, blinked, and murmured something incoherent.
By that time, Mrs. Fay had made it over to us with a glass of water. “Here.” I held the water out to him. “See if you can sit up and drink some of this.”
He sat up, took a few sips, and wiped at his brow with the back of his hand. Then he gazed at me and smiled. “Are you an angel? Have I died and gone to heaven?”
Oh, for goodness’ sake. He couldn’t be serious.
“You’re perfectly alive,” I retorted. “But you’re blocking the aisle and Daisy will lose her mind if people can’t leave the church to get over to the Seelbach for the reception.”
He chuckled a little, as if he knew Daisy (though I wasn’t sure how—I’d never seen this man before in my life), and he might relish the thought of seeing her lose her mind.
I held out my hand. “Come on, see if you can stand. My house is only two doors down from here. You can cool yourself off there before the party. I’m Jordan Baker, by the way.”
He grabbed my hand, and then he was on his feet again. “Blockwood Biloxi.” He wobbled a little and I put out a hand to steady him.
“Blockwood?” I tried not to laugh at his ridiculous name because the poor man was already having quite the embarrassing afternoon.
He shrugged. He was probably used to it. “It’s an old family name. But you can call me Blocks. Everyone does.”
Blocks truly wasn’t any better than Blockwood, now was it? But I bit my lip. “All right then, Blocks. Let’s go.”
He leaned his weight on me and the two of us made it out from the aisle. Daisy cast me a grateful smile. I winked at her, but she had already looked away, turned her attention back to Tom, who was talking to his parents in the front pew. She reached her hand up to fiddle with her three-hundred-fifty-thousand-dollar necklace. Was that a nervous fiddle? Daisy and I had grown up well-to-do, for Louisville. But girls we knew coveted a strand of pearls worth a few hundred dollars. I tried to imagine what it must feel like to wear something so expensive around your neck. To be given a necklace that expensive, by your husband. What a person could buy with that money instead! A mansion or maybe even a small town somewhere in the Midwest.
“I don’t know if I can walk much more,” Blocks said. We’d just made it outside the church, and he slowed down, started slumping.
“Come on,” I said, pulling him upright again. “My house is just right up there.” I pointed to the white Victorian two houses down—you could see the red front door from here. “Daddy already got tired and went home to rest before the party so just a few more steps and then he’ll fix you up with some of his famous sweet tea.”
“Jordan.” He turned and stared at me, his eyes open wide. They were a pale, watery shade of brown, the color of hot cocoa. “I owe you. You saved my life.”
“Oh, hush. Come on now. You’re being ridiculous. Just a little June Louisville heat, that’s all. I bet you’re from up north, and you’re not used to our weather.”
He shook his head but didn’t tell me where he was from. Instead he said, “Jordan, do you have a beau? I bet you do. Someone as beautiful as you must have a beau.”
I sighed. As Daddy always liked to say, no good deed goes unpunished. I’d gotten Blocks up and out of there, and I was taking him to my house, and now I was subject to his annoying questioning. “I’m not looking for a beau,” I said sharply.
“So then there isn’t a special man in your life?” Blocks smirked as we walked up to my front door.
“Like I told you, I’m not looking. But no, Blocks. No special man in my life.”
And really, that was only half a lie.
* * *
I COULDN’T IMAGINE myself ever getting married. Not to a man like Tom Buchanan who’d be arrogant enough to wrap pearls around my neck worth the price of a small city. And certainly not to a man who called himself Blocks and fainted from heat in the middle of a church aisle.
Blocks, as it turned out, sold boxes. He was a traveling salesman, he told me and Daddy the following morning over breakfast, and he’d been in Tom’s class at Yale. He’d been president of Tom’s class at Yale, which made Daddy smile and compliment him on how important it was to be a good leader.
“Who do you sell boxes to?” Daddy asked him. The answer was everyone. Lots of people needed boxes now that the war was over and shipping had picked up all around the country. I personally could not imagine a business more dull.
But Daddy was so enamored that he invited Blocks to stay with us for a few weeks while he “recovered from his fainting spell.”
“Get to know Louisville,” Daddy said. “Jordan’ll show you around.”
Blocks eagerly agreed, and I pushed away my grits, suddenly not very hungry for breakfast at all. I’d taken a month away from the golf tour, planning to rejoin them again mid-July. I hadn’t imagined the time away would hurt me too much since all our matches this past year had been postponed till next year due to the influenza scares. My time off now was partly for Daisy’s wedding but mostly to spend some time with Daddy, whose breath rattled heavy in his chest every time he took the stairs, and whose face had turned a worrisome shade of gray. The month away had seemed like more than a good idea when I’d left Charleston, but now that I was about to be stuck with Blocks, it felt like a mistake.
I spent the next few days taking Blocks around the city, and the man wouldn’t shut up the whole damn time. Worse, he kept trying to hold my hand, and I kept on having to gently push him away and remind him I wasn’t looking for a beau. Yet, he’d said several times, with a wink.
When I finally couldn’t stand acting polite one moment longer, I took him to the golf club, told him I needed some practice and he could watch or hit balls, too, if he was so inclined. He said he’d watch and also insisted he wanted to buy me a gift there, as a thank-you for my hospitality. I didn’t want him to be buying me gifts, but I’d been wanting a nice new aluminum putter, so I didn’t say no.
“Your swing is mighty impressive, Jordan,” he said after he’d watched me drive the balls, one after another, for almost an hour. My shoulders were sore. How quickly I’d fallen out of shape being back in Louisville.
I walked over to the putting green without responding to his compliment, and Blocks trailed along after me. I gave the new aluminum putter a whirl, relishing the cold weight of it in my hands.