Page 9 of Small Town Hunter

The bird lands on my wedding train. And I swear itlooksat me. A current of lightning goes through my whole body.

My grandmother has one of those birds tattooed on her wrist. It’s her favorite bird.

The bird on the dial of my watch is also a cardinal, matching with Mamie’s.

And lately… these dreams…

The bird jumps up and down, poops on my dress, then flies away.

Mama is shuddering. “I hate these horrible creatures. I told Ronald they need to cut that magnolia tree down, they keep trying to live in it.”

“Yes Ma’am,” says Charles, fighting back a laugh. He catches my eye and winks.

“What a beautiful day for the wedding,”sings Alina.

“It looks like a dust storm coming,” says Felicia. “I hope the Reverend isn’t too upset at how late you are, Trina. He has the worst temper.”

“Can’t you drive any faster?” Mama complains.

“You see the traffic, Ma’am? I’m going as fast as I can,” says Charles placidly.

“For crying out loud, they’ll have married Reverend to someone else by now!”

“Oh, no. They would never do that, Mrs. Whiteleaf,” Alina gasps. “That just could never happen! How terrible!”

“Do you know, Trina, everyone thought the Reverend was going to marryme,” says Felicia. “I’m only his second cousin, after all. We’re barely related, and my family is very rich. It’s just so funny he wanted to marry you instead, Trina! Nobody expected that.” She smiles at me and I smile back.

“I think Reverend and Trina are so good together,” Alina sighs. “Trina is so holy and kind, and Reverend is so…”

“Rich,” finishes Felicia.

I’ve never felt sicker in my life. I’m sweating like a sinner under my dress. “Hold my bouquet,” I tell Felicia, and thrust the giant heap of flowers in her face.

We’re in a deadlock. The traffic is always messed up in town, but this is something else. Nobody is moving at all. Mama leans across and slams on the horn, like that’s going to solve anything.

“Ma’am, please let me do my job,” says Charles patiently.

“This is a nightmare!” Mama complains. “We should have taken the back roads!”

Nevermind that she told Charles specifically not to do that. She wanted everybody to see the white Rolls Royce passing through town. She made sure every newspaper in Tippalonga wrote about the wedding today.

“Oh, we got an accident, sho’nuff,” Charles says. He leans forward over the wheel and squints. “Lookie, Trina-beana, that car’s on fire!”

“What selfish wretch decided to have an accident on my daughter’s wedding day? This is unacceptable. Just unacceptable. Where are the police? I’ll call them to give us an escort to the church.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Charles meets my eye in the rearview and winks. He’s always been nice to me. His daughter is going to Yale in September. I used to wish he was my father.

Mama sniffs. “And I just know Janine Wilson is going to blame me for this. She should have sent the helicopter, but I guess we weren’t good enough to ride it, not like those precious Arquelots she’s always kissing up to.”

“You should hold this. I’m allergic to roses,” Felicia complains, shoving my bouquet at Alina.

Slowly, the car crawls forward. We pass the train tracks, which split Tippalonga in half.

Charles slams on the brakes again. “Damn it.”

“Watch your language!” Mama complains.

We are now driving parallel to the tracks, and a slight shadow falls over the car. The billboard overhead is new — paid for by my future husband, the Reverend.

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