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They Stumble That Run Fast † 4

"Do you know who she is?" Logan questions urgently, pushing himself up in his chair.

  "Felise. The girl I've been  dreaming about. She's real," I say, ironically in a dreamy voice.

  "She's the girl you've been seeing?!" Logan asks, incredulously.

  "Yeah."

  "No. no. no, NO!" Logan exclaims, jumping to the edge of his seat. "There is a reason we were never allowed to go to the east side of town, let alone be at that party tonight and Felise - I mean her parents are the reason why."

  "Wait a minute. I thought you said you didn't know whose party it was!" I accuse.

  "That was until I knew who your dream girl was!"

  "What is wrong with her parents? There didn't seem like there was anything wrong there." He knew what I was getting at.

  "The stories our parents told us about were only there to keep us away from the east side."

  "Why?"

  "Your parents have bad blood. You would make due to forget you ever met Felise, man. I mean it." And I watch as he gets up from the chair and leaves the room.

†

  "Hey Pastor Evans!" I yell, stepping over his garden supplies to get to him.

  He turns around, turning off the motor to the hedge trimmers he's using, and pulls off his goggles. 

  "Caleb! You're back! What a surprise!" he exclaims, reaching over and giving me a hug. "How was your trip!" 

  "It was good," I reply, as he pulls back.

  "So, what of this visit?" he asks. "I know you didn't come by cause you missed this old man." 

  I chuckle in to a fist as he directs me down his garden pathway.

  "Well, I came to tell you that I'm getting married, sir." I explain, feeling suddenly bashful. It feels so odd, yet exciting to say that.

  "Well then. Who is the lucky lady?!" Pastor Evans asks in delight.

  "Felise Romero, sir and I would like you to marry us," I say, stopping him. 

  Pastor Evans looks up at me smiling and says, "I would be delighted."

†

  I stand looking out the window, as I see Caleb grabbing his tux from his trunk and run in the church. Turning around I look in to my ex-nannies eyes, as she stands looking at me proudly in Emmeline and I ask her self-consciously, "You don't think I'm making a huge mistake do you?" 

  With a gentle smile, she steps up to me and says, "Do you think I would have gotten you all dolled up to tell you that you're making a huge mistake? That is a good man down there. Handsome as all get out and I will be delighted to see the children you make walk across these floors, as you so did." 

  At that I tear up.

  "No. no. No crying," she says, rubbing my hands. "You will not mess up my make-up job." 

  I look at my nanny of ten years with her greying straw blonde hair and I think about how she ought to have been my mother, when my mother never was. When my mother was off to one of her fashion shows out of the country, I was dropped off with Clarice. From 3 to 13 she was always there to guide me through the fundamentals of life and teach me how to be the lady of my own choosing. Even when she was my nanny no longer she was always there. It was as if she refused to leave my side and I'm glad of it.