~Carcaixento Valencia, Spain~
La Galiana Campo de Golf
The long streamer tape reserving the wedding party parking area gently fluttered in the breeze. Nearly twenty cars already parked in the dusty unpaved space that typically accommodated overflow parking for tournaments, with more arriving with each passing minute. Equally numerous were the people who milled about mingling and meeting, others too strolled toward the wedding tent with hopes of finding early seats. Blue portable toilets lined the back area of the parking lot.
In front of the tent, an old cherry red Austin Healy Sprite convertible was being adorned with ropes and cans by children. The washable white paint hissed from the can as the author scrawled 'Just Married' on the back of the short trunk.
The gentle breeze ruffled the canvas of the tent, the open sides let the air flow through the rows of seats. With a guest list exceeding two hundred, and some early birds beginning to take their seats, they enjoyed the vista of the golf course. Nestled among the craggy mountains, the tournament course featured eighteen holes with water hazard complete with fountains.
Inside the main building, the wedding party and their retinue's, swathed in carnation pink, made preparations. The bride-to-be shook her hands, she exhaled, "There's still so much to do," she muttered. She glanced at her bridesmaids, her sister Manuela, her mom Annie, and her mom's oldest friend Xiomara, "Shouldn't I be getting into the dress yet?" she probed leveling her gaze at the white laced gown hanging on the rack.
Manuela's daughter played in the corner with her bag of crafts, she glanced at her child, "Isidora, be careful with your crafts. Don't ruin the floor," she urged.
The young girl of five nodded. "I will madre," she said absently scribbling with her crayons on the blank paper.
Xiomara, a woman with caramel colored hair, and a Spanish woman's complexion shook her head. "It's still too early for that Donella. You'll sweat too much and the dust will just make you feel miserable. No..., just relax," she said shaking her head.
"Xiomara's right," Donella's mother nodded. "Every time a car rolls in, the dust just blows with it. We'll wait till the last fifteen minutes."
Donella inhaled, she nodded. "Okay..., okay Mom, but I feel so useless and my stomach's in knots. I just want the day to be perfect."
A warm smile graced Xiomara's aging face. "You should relax in the restroom, you can relieve yourself comfortably there. Here, I have something to calm the stomach jitters," she offered, rummaging through her purse.
Annie nodded, her eyes drifted to a time long ago. "Sí. I remember my first marriage," she began.
Donella cocked her head. "With dad?"
Annie nodded. "Sí. I was so scared. But a woman gave me pepto, truly made it bearable," she offered.
"Sí," Xiomara nodded. "Me too. When I married Louis...," she said letting her sentence fade as she handed over the bottle of Pepto-Bismol.
"Pepto is a lifesaver," Manuela nodded agreeably.
Donella nodded, popping the top, the thick chalk flavored pink liquid poured down her throat. "Blah."
Xiomara chuckled. "My manito says it'll put hair on your chest," she said with eyes dancing with amusement.
"Your Mani is quite fetching Xio. How'd you wrangle such a young hottie?" Annie pressed.
"Oh...," Manuela exhaled. "he is gorgeous, like an Indian god or something," she purred huskily.
"Happy accident I suppose," Xiomara began with a shrug. "Not everything is as it seems," she said as a knock on the dressing room door preceded its opening.
A woman's head poked through a crack. "Donella, the cake has arrived. We'll put it in the reception hall," she announced.
Donella nodded. "Thank you Kayleen."
Xiomara glanced at Donella and her mother, she nodded. "At least that's good no?"
"Maybe...," Manuela shrugged. "I think you should check it out. Remember the caterer misspelled our names? It took time to get fixed, the chef had to come all the way out to redecorate it," she offered.
"Sí," Donella began with a nod. "That sounds good. I need to get out of this room. I'm like a caged animal," she muttered. Opening the door, she breezed through the back areas of the reception hall with the others following.
Isidora glanced around the empty room, her eyes sparkled. A smile of delight and wonder splashed across her face. "Pretty," she whispered in awe of the dress. She rubbed the satin and lace dress against her face. Crossing her arms across her chest she scowled. "It's all wrong, it's too white," she muttered to herself.
"Oh...," she blinked, slowly a smile crept across her face. "Aunti Doni will like it," she said gleefully at the idea popping into her mind.
She dumped her crafts bag onto the floor. Rummaging, she picked up the scissors. The small child's scissors cut through the lace and satin with effort by tiny hands.
Returning to her bag, the pink nail polish with glitter sparkled in the room's overhead lights. A wide smile split her face. Using the small brush, she painted stars and clouds, birds and puppies, or her semblance of such contrivances on the newly formed tassels of satin and lace.
* * *
Squatting, Mateo Ortiz inhaled, his brows furrowed, his forehead creased, his tuxedo constricting. He glanced at the young boy before him, Isidora's older brother by a year, "It's very important Esmund, can you handle it?" he probed.
Esmund nodded. "Sí. I'll be careful." Esmund's eyes were full of eager delight to help the man who would be his uncle. "Sí. I'll be careful," he repeated still nodding eagerly.
Mateo glanced at the faces in the room, his own brother Antonio, Manuela's husband and soon to be brother-in-law Chucho, and Xiomara's other half Manszya. He inhaled. "Okay Esmund, I'm trusting you to keep this ring safe, entiendes?"
Esmund's head nodded vigorously. Taking the ring, Esmund buried it deep into his tiny vest pocket. His chest puffed, his little shoulders squared, a wide grin on his face he nodded. "I will guard it uncle Mateo," he said firmly.
Mateo rose, tousling the boy's hair he nodded. "Bueno, I know you will. Now..., can you wait for me in the wedding tent?"
"Sí uncle. I'll meet you there," Esmund said with delight on his face.
Esmund pushed open the door, leaving the men behind for their preparation. In the adjacent small antechamber, the Priest too was reviewing his notes for the upcoming wedding. Finishing his sermon and collecting his own thoughts as Esmund skipped by. "Hola Padre," Esmund chirped.
A ladder rested against a window pane, the Priest's preparation desk was next to the ladder. The Priest, an elderly man in his mid-seventies nodded. "Hola Esmund," he replied as the boy briskly left the preparation area.
Esmund stepped outside, the air was warm and sweet, the gentle breeze blew the smell of summer. Inhaling deeply, he trotted outside. The soft thwack of a club hitting a hard ball piqued his interest. He meandered through the congregating visitors, following the sounds of the thwack-thwack he drifted. His eyes wide with joy and ecstasy at the sight of people hitting the tiny white balls with bent sticks. Esmund had never seen such bent sticks, curiosity danced behind his eyes, his feet propelled him forward eagerly.
The driving range being too far, and his six year old legs being too small, he opted to find a suitable replacement. His eyes found a tee shaped club hammered into the dirt. Untying the rope, his forehead creased as he wondered why the club was in the ground in the first place, and why it was tied to the tent in the second place, he pulled and pulled.
He blinked, the tent was tied to many such buried clubs. He shook off the sight and clawed the soil with his hands. Working the tent stake free, Esmund trotted to the shaded area behind the building. A dog sat in the shade behind the building. For a moment, Esmund played with the dog. "Are you thirsty?" he asked. His brows furrowed, he nodded, "Okay, you should get some water," he said unshackling the dog from its chain.
Esmund smiled the satisfaction of helping such a thirsty steed, as the dog certainly wasn't a dog, but horse fit for a king. Esmund inhaled, then turned his focus to the thwacking sound of the driving range. He wanted to do that too, it looked like such fun. It was easy to find golf balls, they had been collected and left, as Esmund thought, just for him to practice. Tossing the balls into the air, he swung and missed, and swung and missed – only to continue in amusement.
Soon however, he began sword fighting a ruthless horde of villains that only the Avengers could fight, except he was Esmund, and he was the champion. He smiled, reveling in his superpower, that he had super vision, of course he could defeat the evil monsters, and their leader – who to his imagination looked remarkably like his sister.
As the imaginary battle coursed, Esmund envisioned the worst, fighting a life and death pitched battle in all its brutal glory, he crawled on the ground, aware only of the thwack-thwack-thwacking sounds of the gunfire raging over head.
Esmund knew what he had to do – naturally he had to save the Avengers. He had to hit a ball. After many more attempts and misses, the tent stake cracked against the hard white sphere sending the missile into the horde. The ball struck a villain in the head just as he had swung his own sword – or golf club. The golfer staggered on his swing, his own ball veered a hard left, sailing over the shaded area, hitting the arriving elderly Priest in the head.
Father Felipe stumbled, the ball bouncing off his head with a soft crack, a grunt escaping his lips, he crashed to the grassy floor amid gasps and shrieks of assembling guests.
Esmund blinked, then scampered off leaving the battlefield and the angry golfer behind.
* * *
Donella walked around the cake, inspecting its craftsmanship, she smiled widely at her mother and sister. "It's perfect. They didn't fuck it up."
"There's no reason to worry dear," Annie offered, patting her daughter's shoulder. "Everything is taken care of."
"I feel almost like I can breathe," Donella exhaled. "I just need to get through the ceremony."
Kayleen rushed in from outside. "We have a small problem."
Her eyes wide, Donella swallowed. "What now?"
Kayleen shook her head. "Father Felipe was hit by a stray golf ball. The ambulance is on the way, but he's unconscious."
Xiomara blinked. "Is he okay?"
"Don't know...," Kayleen shrugged. "But at his age...," she said letting her voice trail off.
Donella shook her head. "Where do we find a new Priest who's available?"
"I'm on it," Kayleen said, wheeling out of the reception hall.
Donella shook her head. "Oh... This is a disaster. I think I need to shit," she grumbled. Xiomara nodded to the restroom sign, and Donella struck off toward it.
Annie shook her head. "We're gonna head back to the changing room," she announced as Donella gave a wave over her shoulder.
"The poor man," Annie offered. "I hope it's not a serious injury," she said leading the trio back to the changing room.
"I hope the wedding planner can find a replacement priest," Xiomara offered.
Manuela nodded. "Anyone I suppose would do wouldn't it?"
Annie pushed open the door, her eyes wide, her mouth open. Manuela and Xiomara blinked in stunned silence.
Isidora's eyes sparkled with delight at the improvements, a wide smile split her face. "Mommy, I made it prettier!" she squealed.
"Oh!" Manuela gasped. "No-no-no..., What have you done?"
Annie's lip trembled, her eyes fluttered. "Santa Maria!"
Xiomara inhaled. "What else can go wrong?"
From behind them, the door opened. "My dress!" Donella shrieked.
* * *
Mateo watched Esmund skip out of the chamber, his lips pursed in a thin smile.
Manszya nodded. "You'll have one of your own in a bit amigo. Doni's a suitable woman for ya."
Mateo's smiled widened. "She's just the best thing that's happened to me. I..., I didn't even know I needed her until I found her."
He glanced at Manszya, finding a tuxedo that fit his measurements had been challenging, a forty-four inch shoulder with thirty-four inch biceps on a five-foot seven frame was difficult enough for the wedding planner. Then to find material that didn't split every time he crossed his arms was another challenge. Mateo cocked his head. "How come you don't have any kids amigo?"
Manszya shook his head. "Ah..., I do actually. He's grown now. But..., uh..., I can't say I was actually the best father material. I didn't do such a..., such a good job ya know."
"Raising kids is hard amigo, but hugely rewarding," Chucho offered.
Mateo's brother Antonio placed a hand on his shoulder and nodded. "Doni will be a great mom, like your Manuela," he replied with a warm smile glancing at Chucho.
Chucho nodded. "Manuela's my life. Wait..., where's that barking coming from?"
Manszya jutted his chin. "It's from inside, wasn't the caterer supposed to be in?"
Mateo blinked, a scowl crossed his face. "Fuck, let's make sure the dog doesn't ruin something."
Manszya wheeled, barreling through the door, the men following, they trotted to the reception hall. Each froze in stride, the cake had been toppled to the floor, pancaked outward, the dog lapping up the tasty meal, the tablecloth mixed with cake.
Manszya shook his head, then with brisk strides, caught the dog and escorted it back out. He blinked at the scene of flashing lights wheeling the Priest on a gurney, a bulbous lump on his temple. Re-shackling the dog, he returned to the men staring at the cake. "Um..., Mat..., you need a new Padre."
"Seriously?" Mateo began. "A new Priest? And a new cake?"
Chucho nodded. "I'll find the planner," he offered trotting off.
Manszya shook his head. "Shall I let my Xio know, or you wanna break the news yourself?"
"I'll do it," Mateo grumbled, heading to the bridal chamber.
* * *
Outside, Esmund watched the ambulance load Father Felipe. His young lips pressed together tightly, he shook his head. He watched Manszya lead the dog back to the shade and once re-shackled the dog, he strode briskly back inside the building.
Esmund shook his head, he wondered what was taking everyone so long. His gaze swept over the driving range, and the people under the tent, the cars still arriving – plumes of dust announcing another car. Along the line of porta-potties, a septic truck's pump hummed in the air.
Esmund cocked his head, he shrugged and because he was bored and lonely, he wanted a walking companion. He once more took the dog from its tether, and set off to see what the great beast was sucking from the toilets.
The air was a mixture of dust, exhaust, toilets in the warm summer sun, and a sweet disinfecting cleaner. Sitting with the dog, watching the nearby portable toilet servicing operation he patiently watched, blissfully unaware that he was no longer holding the dog.
The sanitation truck lurched into motion, rounding the parking lot heading back out the direction it had entered. The dog's ears perked up, hearing a sound only a hound could hear, it bolted, barking into the wind.
"No!" Esmund cried. "Come back!"
In the dry soil, the dog's paws kicked up small tufts of dust. Cutting across the driver's path, the septic truck veered to miss the dog, plowing into the red Austin Healy. While not going terribly fast, the liquid sloshed, the small car was at the right height to sheer off the outlet drain valve as the vacuum truck rode over the convertible.
Liquid streamed from the tanks with the flow of gravity, pouring into the car's interior. The driver hustled to free his truck from the small car lodged under the back skid. Metal sheered, wrenching and tearing a wider gash up the side of the container – spilling its noxious bouquet faster.
Guests covering their faces, gasping in terror and fright. Kayleen's mouth hung open, a phone pressed to her head trying to find an available Priest.
She shook her head. "We can always move venues," she muttered to herself. She resigned herself to delivering the news and trundled inside.
* * *
Standing before the door, Mateo's eyes were wide as he glanced at Manszya, the shrieking and screaming from beyond nearly terrified him.
Manszya shrugged, his wide knuckles rapped on the door.
Xiomara opened, she shook her head. "This isn't a good time fella's, we're having a bit of a meltdown."
"It's about to get worse darling," Manszya began.
Donella threw open the door. "Worse? Worse? How could it get any worse than this!" she screeched pulling up the shredded and painted dress.
Manszya bit his lip, his eyes twinkled with laughter.
Mateo's eyes flew open. "Um..., baby..., um..., a dog got the cake," he said rubbing his face.
Annie blinked, Manuela's eyes were wide, Donella's jaws set, dragging her ruined dress, she bolted down the corridor to the reception hall.
Manszya cupped both hands over his mouth, pressing his head into the door jamb to stifle his laughter while Xiomara glowered at him.
Shrieking and wailing sobs echoed through the corridors of the reception hall.
Kayleen returned, her eyes flew open at the sight of the dress and the overturned cake. "Santa Maria!" she gasped. Her gaze swept over Donella on her knees sobbing in anguished agony. She hung her head. "Señora's, Señorita, Señor'es, I..., I....," she stammered.
Donella looked up. "What now?" she mumbled through tear-streaked mascara.
Manszya held a hand over his face, peering behind fingers, an arm across his chest, more to help calm his laughter than hide any terror.
Xiomara's eyes narrowed. "Well?"
"There...," Kayleen began shaking her head. "There was an incident with the septic vacuum truck and the convertible."
Chucho blinked. "My Austin? My convertible?"
Kayleen nodded. "Sí Señore. It's pretty foul," she mumbled, as Chucho strode briskly out to inspect his car.
Donella laid on the floor, sobbing and shoveling cake in her mouth.
"Maybe..., maybe it's a..., a sign from God," Annie said, shaking her head. "Maybe today..., isn't supposed to happen today."
Xiomara glanced at Manszya. "Well? You're in the Army, can't you do anything?" she pressed with a shrug.
Manszya still peering out from behind his mocha colored fingers raised an eyebrow. "What do you want me to do, woman?" he huffed.
"Something..., anything," Xiomara grumbled.
Mateo shook his head. "I don't know when, but Doni..., we will get married," he said softly lowering himself next to his bride to be.
Donella laid her head in his lap and sobbed.
Manszya rubbed his face. "Okay..., I can help..., but how bad do you want to be married today?"
Donella eyed him suspiciously. "The whole day is ruined, there isn't a Priest, or a cake, or a dress, or a..., a..., car...," she said before succumbing to heaving tears.
"Yes I understand that," Manszya began. "But if I go through with the effort, do you want it?"
Donella's sobs subsided, she cocked her head, "If you can even salvage half of it, at least a Priest, I would be grateful," she whimpered.
Manszya nodded, he looked at Kayleen. "Find me the general manager. Have him meet me here. I gotta get my phones from the car. Be right back," he replied and trotted out to his car.
The black Jaguar XJ coated in dust, when he shut the door, a sheet of fine powdered soil fell to the earth. With two phones and a walkie-talkie he trundled back inside. Kayleen was arriving with a man in a polo and slacks. His eyes were wide at the chaos his vision took in.
Manszya nodded. "Hola Señor, you're the manager no?"
"Yes," the man began with a nod. "I'm Emelio, what do you need?"
Manszya glanced at Annie. "You're still paying, no?"
Annie rose to her feet, she nodded. "Yes, I'll pay."
Manszya nodded. "Bueno." He returned his gaze to the manager. "Señor, do you have high quality, high thread count Egyptian cotton fabric? Perhaps like table cloths?"
Emelio cocked his head. "Yes, of course."
A cockeyed grin splayed across Manszya's mocha colored face. "Bueno. And do you have a sewing machine for repairing cloths or nets from the tennis court, or awnings?"
"Sí, yes..., yes we do."
Manszya nodded. "Darling," he began looking at his woman, "Take Doni and go with Emelio to get suitable cloth for a gown and whip something up. Not fancy, just something," he instructed.
Xiomara nodded, helping the woman off the floor.
Manszya nodded, he glanced at the wedding planner. "Did you find a Priest?"
"I did but...," Kayleen began with a shrug. "He'd never make it on time."
Manszya nodded. "Show me."
Kayleen pulled out her phone. "He's in Salamanca."
"Ask him if he's interested in an alternative transportation arrangement," Manszya replied.
Kayleen cocked her head, then shrugged and stepped aside to call, while Manszya checked his own information.
Annie raised an eyebrow. "How will you get him here on such short notice?" she probed.
Manszya shrugged. "Every day there are many flights by our military pilots. Most need flight hours, and don't get enough opportunities to fly. So, once you know who to call to get an air movement request, the rest is simple," he reported pasting a number into the phone.
With a nod from Kayleen, and an address, Manszya stepped aside. "Hola, this is Captain Vi, Nineteenth Special Operations Group, I understand you have pilots not flying on missions today no?" he said nodded. "Sí..., sí, yes..., yes I know..., I would like to schedule a priority one urgent pax transport under your training hours..., Sí..., yes I know..., oh? Even better, bueno..., I'll email you his location coordinates, gracias," he said disconnecting the call. Pulling up the phone's app, he emailed the coordinates.
Faces stared at him, eyes blinked. He shrugged, then glanced at the wedding planner. "There's already a flight-hour sortie in the area, they'll pick him up in ten at the widest spot near the church. It's only a forty-minute flight, so we'll get a dress and a Priest shortly. I can't help with a cake unfortunately."
Kayleen once more dialed the Priest, stepping aside to complete her conversation.
Manszya returned his gaze to Annie. "Once they say their I do's, they'll board the chopper with the Priest and return to the parish in Salamanca," he offered, he glanced at Mateo. "Change your reservations to Salamanca and your nearly home free amigo."
Waiting, and waiting more, they settled into waiting for the new Priest. Annie and Mateo circulated among the guests, then with a squawking from the walkie-talkie announcing the arrival of the chopper enhanced the buzz of anticipatory conversations of the guests. The heavy thudding of wind and rotor wash, the helicopter touched down on the golf course to the amazement of the guests.
Manszya raised an eyebrow at Xiomara's swiftly stitched together dress, table cloths had been transformed into a shoulder-less long gown.
Esmund trundled out from the ditch he had been playing in, covered in every manner of color and substance he could find.
Donella rolled her eyes.
Mateo blinked, "Do you have the ring?"
Esmund eagerly patted his pocket, his brows furrowed, his forehead creased, his small hand crammed into the pocket. His eyes wide, he swallowed, he shook his head.
Mateo inhaled sharply.
Xiomara exhaled, glancing at Manszya she nodded, he cocked his head. Xiomara wiggled her late husband's ring from her finger and pressed it into Mateo's hand. "Just as you're opening a chapter, I'm closing one. This ring my late husband gave me, I hope it serves you better than me," she said softly.
Xiomara watched Manszya and the wedding. Then as the new couple and the Priest concluded their ceremony, they changed and followed the unscheduled guests in green jump suits to their chopper. It took only moments for the rotors to wind up, the hum of the turbines, then the lift-off. The unsecured tent flapped viciously, a rope thrashed wildly, the ripping of canvas split down the centerline.
Annie gasped as she watched the tent fall apart with guests scrambling out from under the buffeting winds and collapsing tent.
Manszya let a roiling riotous laugh burst from his large barrel chest, he shook his head. "This was the damn funniest wedding we've ever been to."
"The next time one of my friends asks me to be a bridesmaid, remind me to say never again..., okay darling?" Xiomara muttered.
Manszya stifled his laughter, he nodded. "As you wish darling."
Xiomara grabbed her purse, she shook her head, "I'm hungry my darling manito, take me to dinner," she cooed.
"I would be only so delighted," he purred extending an arm.
Leading her towards the black Jaguar he rolled his eyes, dog prints pressed into the dust covering the car, he opened the door for Xiomara, then closed it behind her.
