Bucky swore and stood. He paced, eventually standing in front of the window. He pulled back the curtain.
“The cops just got here,” he reported. “And Reverend Foote.”
“Why didn’t we hear sirens?”
“I don’t know,” said Bucky. “I’ll go find out.”
“Please,” said Rachel.
Rachel retrieved ice from the freezer, and wrapped it in a washcloth.
They sat there in silence, Jake holding the ice to his eye. Rachel listened to car doors opening and car doors closing. Another car arrived. Rachel could tell from the brakes that it was Krystal’s.
Jake started talking then. Bert confronted him, had ordered his stepson not to hang around Rachel, but Jake had not listened. Bert had proof that it was not the first time. He spied the day they planted flowers, and that night, he watched them dance in her living room. Jake admitted this, and admitted he had been coming over more often than that. Jake had the nerve to quote from the Bible: “But who are you to judge your neighbor?” To make matters worse, Jake recited the chapter and verse, James 4:12.
That was when Bert smacked him.
Krystal opened the door without knocking. Her eyes were dry, but her face was white, her lips set in a tight line.
Krystal sat down on the couch, and pulled Jake to her.
“Why are you wearing my sweater?” Krystal asked him this quietly, and examined his eye, while she waited for his answer. Rachel stood in front of them, arms crossed, holding her tongue. Finally, she could take it no longer.
“Where are the cops? I want to make a report.”
“I sent them away,” said Krystal.
“Bert threatened to shoot me,” said Rachel. “I’m going to call them back.”
“Please don’t,” said Krystal.
“Don’t you even tell me that you’re worried about your fucking wedding,” said Rachel.
“No,” said Krystal. “Right now, I’m worried about Jake.”
“We’ve known each other for fifteen years,” said Rachel. “I can still tell when you’re scared. And I can definitely still tell when you’re lying.”
“I’m fine,” said Jake.
“This is fucking ridiculous!” Rachel grabbed the washcloth from Krystal’s hand.
“Bert is sorry,” Krystal said, and hugged Jake again. “He’s very, very sorry, and he’s going to make it up to you.”
“You always say that,” muttered Jake.
Krystal turned to Rachel, pleading. “I’m not a bad mother.”
“I didn’t say that,” said Rachel. “You were the most loyal friend I ever had. Why can’t you be loyal to your own son?”
“I am,” said Krystal huffily.
“Then take his side for once,” said Rachel. “He comes here because he doesn’t feel safe.”
“Our home is safe,” said Krystal. “Jake likes to be dramatic.”
“Bert hit him,” said Rachel. “Did you leave your baby with that dirtbag?”
“Mrs. Foote has the baby, and the reverend took Bert for a drive.” Krystal smoothed Jake’s hair. “Bert’s not going to be home when you get there,” she said.
“You’re afraid of him, too.” Rachel wanted to hear the words come out of Krystal’s mouth, wanted her to admit it.
Instead, Krystal began crying, but Rachel could tell these were selfish tears, the tears of someone overwhelmed. Krystal cried out of hopelessness, not out of concern for her son.
“Okay,” said Krystal, after she regained her composure. “I will tell Bert to lay off. Jake is welcome to come over here anytime he wants. As long as it’s okay with you, and as long as he lets somebody know.”
“Thank you,” said Jake.
“But you need to mind your own business,” said Krystal, addressing Rachel. “Stay out of my marriage. Don’t forget that I’ve known you for fifteen years, too. And I’ve seen you ruin plenty of relationships.”
Rachel said nothing as Jake left with his mother. As usual, Krystal didn’t get it. Rachel was angry all over again, and went into the yard, where she kicked at the tiny tufts of grass, and the bare spots where the new soil and seed had yet to take root, until Bucky restrained her.
“She’s not pressing charges,” said Rachel.
“I know,” said Bucky.
* * *
Although she knew it was a private ceremony, Rachel still found herself begging Bucky to be her date. He made excuses.
“I’ve only got one suit,” he said. “It’s black. And I need to save it for funerals. I get a lot of mileage out of that thing. Especially around here.”
Instead, he promised that when she got back, he and Black Mabel would have the rest of the siding installed.
The church was so new that it smelled like plastic wrap and carpet glue. It was a small space, with room for fifty: ten pews on each side, every seat taken.
Rachel did not see one familiar face. She was wearing a simple gingham sundress and uncomplicated brown sandals, but she still felt overdressed and inappropriate.