Page 41 of My Darling Clementine

“Proper thoughts for a bridegroom,” said the judge’s companion, rising to offer his hand. “I’m James Green, but folks call me Jimmy.” He held up a fiddle. “The good missus there,” he nodded at Mrs. Bates, “said you want something romantic to come in on, so I was thinking of “Drink to Me Only With Thine Eyes”. What about after that?”

Clem shook his hand. “Play “Lavender’s Blue” as we kiss, and again as we lead off the first dance, then let’s have a merry party with your best dance tunes.” She produced a crisp Ben Franklin out of nowhere and tucked it into the fiddler’s hand. “Will this cover it, Jimmy?”

After looking at the bill and making it disappear just as quick, the fiddler grinned. “You’ll be tapping your toes till the cows come home, Mr. Dennison.”

Clem slapped the merry fellow on the back. “Let’s say until half-past midnight.” She winked. “Some of us may want to go to bed.” She waggled her eyebrows.

The men erupted in bawdy laughter, while Mrs. Bates slapped her arm. “You scamp,” she laughed.

“Mrs. Bates,” cried Gabby, running up in a once pretty dress somewhat the worse for wear, and two sizes too small for her. “Miss Walker said I could come to the wedding, and wants me to be her flower girl! Can I, please?”

“Can you? Not without flowers…” said Mrs. Bates, in the mood to tease. “But you may go into my garden, and cut a dozen blooms for the bride’s bouquet.” She reached out a hand to smooth the youngster’s flyaway red hair behind her ears. “Then you can be her flower girl.”

“Oh, thank you, auntie,” cried Gabby, forgetting herself and throwing her arms around her waist in an impulsive hug. “I’ll be right back.”

Mrs. Bates grabbed her wrist before she could flee. “Be careful with the knife, girl. Take your time and cut the flower stems, not your fingers.”

Gabby blushed, “I’ll be careful, Aunt Sarah.” When released, she continued her mad dash out the door.

“Does the girl ever walk?” asked Clem with a grin.

“Almost never.” Mrs. Bates once again took her arm, nodding to the Judge and Jimmy. “I want you to meet a few other citizens of the town, Mr. Dennison. When you said, ‘The more, the merrier,’ this morning, I took the liberty of inviting a few friends…” She introduced Clem as a successful prospector to several groups of well-dressed people.

She stood around answering their questions about the gold rush out west until rescued by the sudden reappearance of Gabby. “How are these, Mrs. Bates?” she asked, breathless, holding out a colorful collection of late summer roses mixed with sprigs of rosemary and heather.

“Kizzy will love them,” said Clem. She added her hand-gathered bouquet of bellflowers to the bunch. “They will be beautiful with her dress.” Her deft fingers twisted stems and vines until she shaped a trumpet of vibrant hues. She kept several out, twining them together into a wreath she set atop the teen’s hair. “For the flower girl.”

“Oh,” said Gabby and her aunt, both amazed. The girl reached up to touch them.

“My, how you’ve grown. You look lovely, my dear. Go upstairs and see if the bride’s ready,” said Mrs. Bates, eyeing her niece’s shabby clothing and running a hand over her green silk. “Tell Miss Walker when the fiddler starts she should come down.”

“I will, I will,” Gabby agreed, once again fleet of foot.

“Okay, let’s get everyone into position.” Mrs. Bates bustled around, pointing to where the Judge should wait, the fiddler should play, and the couple should stand.

Oh my God, I’m getting married. Clem, heartbeat quickening, took her position at the foot of the stairs.

“You’re a lucky man, Mr. Bobblecopper.” Mrs. Blair patted her shoulder and winked as she and her giggling daughters sailed downstairs, trailing the crowd filing into the parlor.

Nervous as a long-tailed cat sitting by a rocking chair, she nearly jumped out of her skin when Gabby, now wearing a pretty bright blue ribbon around her waist, bounced down the stairs to stand beside her, taking the bouquet without being told.

“Don’t worry,” she said, “I know what to do.”

“How is she doing?” Clem asked.

Just then, the fiddler began playing “Drink to Me Only With Thine Eyes”.

“She’s beautiful,” Gabby answered, eyes shining as she looked up. “See?”

Clem knew she would never forget the picture Kizzy made standing at the top of the stairs, eyes sparkling, as she adjusted her veil. She gasped and blinked back unexpected tears.

Lit by candlelight, her mother’s blue gown shimmered, its nipped waist fit the bride’s hourglass figure to perfection, and the lowered sleeves exposed Kizzy’s creamy white shoulders and mounded breasts. Gloved hands held up her skirt, exposing her petticoat’s delicate lace, as she began her graceful descent.

“Oohs,” and “aahs,” rose from those nearest the parlor door as they watched. Step by elegant step, Kizzy made her way down to where Clem waited, taking her arm as she arrived beside her.

Looking Clem over, she said, “Nice hat. In that suit you look good enough to eat.” Kizzy stared up at her, eyes wide. “Do I make a suitable bride, Mr. Dennison?”

“You are a beautiful bride in a gorgeous gown.” Clem answered. She leaned down and whispered in her ear, “I can’t wait to remove it.”