Page 94 of Cocky Origins: May and Jerald Cocker

“Perhaps too much,” Mr. Kearns says with an amused undertone. “My aspirin isn’t working.”

“Indeed!” Pops chuckles, honking his horn at a driver. “City folk shouldn’t own cars! Edmund’s taste in cigars is profound. And he was good enough to put us up for the night in a couple of his guest rooms with en suite baths!”

“Wait. You didn’t stay at the hotel?”

“There was one bed!”

“Oh.”

“I don’t know what your mother was thinking!”

Off a dirt road in the park the three of us walk with quick strides until we come to a lake nestled in young trees. Ducks glide through the water, calm wakes in no hurry behind them. We stop in the center of a bridge with Pops announcing, “This is the place!”

“Where are they?” I ask, looking for May.

“They’ll be here.”

Mr. Kearns glances to the sky. “Clouds are coming.”

“Ray!” We see a priest coming from the other direction, hurrying to join us. “I’m here, Ray!”

Pops walks to meet him, arms outstretched for an eager shake. “Father Michael! Glad you could make it!”

“Wouldn’t miss the opportunity, Ray! Honored you called.”

“Jerald, Fred, this is Father Michael! We went to Yale together, before he up and joined the seminary!”

“Those were good times, Ray, good times I hold onto!”

“Indeed!”

“Nice to meet you, Father. I’m Fred Kearns, father of the bride.”

“Very nice to meet you. Ray tells me you’re a church-goer!”

“We go every Sunday.”

“Where do you call home?”

Pops interjects, “They’re in Albany with me!”

“Ah, well, that’s a shame,” Father Michael sighs. “I’ve been hoping to get Ray up to Atlanta! Thought you might help me with that! Oh, I see Frances now! She hasn’t aged a day!”

Pops smirks, “Yes, tell her that, will you?”

Ma yells as she leads the way, “Raymond! Fred! Jerald! I’m so happy to see you’re not a bloodied mess!” Mrs. Kearns is behind her.

Everyone present is dressed in their finest.

Especially May.

A huge grin spreads on my face as I recognize the blue taffeta from the night I met her. Only now she’s wearing a matching veil over her eyes, the heels I took off night before last hurrying toward me and our future.

As Ma greets Father Michael and dominates the conversation, I walk to May.

“That you in there?”

Her smile shines through, and this gauzy thing can’t hide those blue eyes from me. “Hi.”

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