WHEN THINGS GO SOUTH

Chapter 9 - Smoky Mountain Rain

"Will you marry me? Let's get married!

"Me: "What? Are you kidding me? That's the alcohol talking."

Anthony decides to pop the question out of the clear blue when we are on a weekend getaway in the Smoky Mountains. We haven't really discussed this before. Although I'm sure it's the alcohol talking, Anthony promises it's not, "I have had a lot to drink, but you know I love you and Jordy more than anything. The two of you are my life. Jordy calls me Daddy. It just makes sense.

I want to spend the rest of my life with you. So let's do it!" He exclaims with the excitement of a kid wanting to get on a rollercoaster as he pulls the phone book out of the nightstand drawer.

Anthony is scouring the pages for wedding chapels that are still open and will marry us at a moment's notice. Anthony is right, Jordy does love him, and she's been calling him Daddy for over a year now. She doesn't remember Nick at all, but she knows the man with her Mommy must be her Daddy. Anthony loves it, and anyone we meet, he always introduces Jordy as his daughter. The crazy thing is, people always tell us she looks just like him. It must have been meant to be.

Anthony calls about ten chapels. Then, finally, he finds one. Anthony tells them we will be there within the hour before I even get a chance to answer.

He hangs up and gets down on one knee by the bed, "I don't have a ring, but I will get one. Riley Blair Elliot, will you marry me? I got it all set up."

Like he's worked for months, not just a spontaneous phone call. I know he loves Jordy and me, and I love Anthony more than I can put into words. Anthony is like the guy I pictured spending my life with, the guy you make up in your head when you are young, the way he looks, the way he talks, all of it, just minus the drinking.

I lean over eye to eye with Anthony, "I don't know anything in this world that would make my Pentecostal grandparents happier." I smile as I tassel my fingers through his thick dark hair, "And of course, nothing would make me happier; I know I speak for Jordy too."

He's right; there's really no reason why we shouldn't be married. It makes sense; of course, I want to spend the rest of my life with the man I love, and I do recall Momma saying husbands don't just grow on trees (though they seem to for her), and you better pick one while they are ripe for the pickin'. So, I say yes, again.

I throw my hair up in a ponytail, slip on some jeans, and a sheer black button-up. Not the perfect wedding attire, but it's the dressiest thing I have in my suitcase. Anthony has on jeans, a mountain bike T-shirt, and Timberlands.

We make our way through the winding hills of the mountains. It's sprinkling rain which gives the orange and red leaves on the trees and the ground a deeper, more beautiful hue. I stare out the window at the quaint little houses, families on the porch carving pumpkins. Simple, peaceful, stable lives, small homes, but filled with love, that's all that matters. That's the life I picture for us.

I am nervous and excited but worried that Anthony wouldn't be doing this sober. Still, again, I recall Momma's witticism about a drunk man's words being a sober man's thoughts.

We arrive at Magnolia in The Mountains Wedding Chapel. It's a quaint little white chapel with stained glass windows and a beautiful white steeple nestled in tall, beautiful trees.

We walk hand and hand through the door. I have quite the nervous grip on Anthony's hand. The sweetest gray-haired lady meets us at the door; she puts me in mind of Granny Ree.

She has her white hair twisted in a holy roller bun, glasses that sit on the tip of her nose, and rosy little cheeks. She speaks with the sweetest, softest voice.