~Chapter 13~
Once By The Atlantic
(originally posted December 8, 2007)
They spent the better part of the next hour arguing about it. They weren’t arguing with each other. They were both fascinated by the idea. They were arguing with their common sense. It was wild. It was crazy. It was absolutely insane. But maybe that’s why they both wanted to do it so badly.
In the end, Trixie had called Jack Harris, their room service waiter. They had gone to the courthouse, where Jack met them and served again as witness while they completed the marriage license application and Dan handed over the fee. But when the clerk asked if they wished to see the Justice of the Peace, Trixie and Dan had looked at each other and simultaneously shaken their heads. They still had some arguing to do with reason and logic. They thanked Jack, sent him on his way and walked down to the beach.
Trixie took off her sandals and dangled them from one hand, while Dan took her other hand. They walked along the shore, neither speaking for several minutes. Finally, Dan stopped and turned to face Trixie.
“Trixie Belden, I love you and I want to marry you. It’s immaterial to me if we get married today by a Justice of the Peace, or a year from now in a big lavish church wedding. You tell me what you want, and I’m totally with you.”
Trixie shook her head vehemently, “No, Dan. This decision has to be about what we want. Either way might make you happy…but what do you really want to do?”
“What do you want to do?”
They both stared at each other, silently daring the other to speak first. Slowly, twin smiles of mischief and glee spread across their faces.
“Are you ready to deal with the fallout?” Dan asked. “You’ve got a lot more family to answer to than I do.”
Trixie laughed, “What about you? You shelled out $28 for the license. Will you want your money back if I say no?”
Dan laughed and kissed her, “That’s not a problem. I took it from your craps winnings.”
“Thief!” Trixie teased, putting her arms around his waist and looking up into his dark eyes. Her heart was pounding with excitement. “Let’s do it!”
“Okay,” Dan agreed willingly, “but what do we tell our family and friends?”
Trixie grinned impishly. “We don’t.”
“What?”
“We don’t. If they want a big wedding for us, they can do it. We simply won’t tell them we’re already married. In fact, we can get married exactly one year from today if we want; it’ll be a Saturday. And that way you won't have to remember two anniversaries.”
Dan laughed out loud, “I guarantee that there is absolutely no way you will keep a secret like that for a year!”
Trixie thrust out her chin and spiritedly replied, “Wanna bet?”
Dan raised his eyebrows to the challenge. “Loser has to be the winner’s slave for the day?”
“A month!”
“How about a week?”
“You scared, Mangan?”
“No. Just trying to have a little mercy on you. There’s no way you keep this secret longer than I do. Not from Mart. Not from your mother. Definitely not from Honey.”
Eyes gleaming, Trixie pulled out of Dan’s embrace and smiling widely, stuck her hand out to seal the deal. Instead, Dan swept her back into his arms and sealed it with a long and passionate kiss. “You’re on, Belden. And that may just be the last time I can call you that.”
“It better not be…unless you plan on losing this bet,” Trixie grinned.
Dan shrugged, “I can think of worse things than being your slave for a week.”
Trixie looked sternly at him, “You can’t tell, Dan. Either we do this and keep it a secret, or we don’t do it at all.”
“I’m not going to tell, Trix. I’m just saying that I’m not opposed to losing this bet.”
“Well, you ought to be, because I have things in mind for you that are going to make that week highly unpleasant for you. You know, when I win this bet.”
Dan shook his head and smiled, “Not only is life with you going to be an adventure, but it looks like it’s going to be quite a challenge as well.”
“Are you up for it,
Danny?
“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
He kissed her again,
then held her at arm’s length and assessed her carefully. “Well, you’ve
got the white dress.”
“Yes, and it’s new. And,” she brought her left hand up to rest on Dan’s
chest, “your mother’s ring certainly qualifies as something old.”
Dan gently traced the blue daisies that ringed her neckline, letting one finger brush against the skin near her collarbone. “Guess this can count for something blue.”
“That just leaves us with something borrowed, and I honestly don’t know what to do about that. Any ideas?”
Dan looked around them. An older couple was approaching, hand in hand. Dan smiled pensively, thinking of the day, long into the future, when he and Trixie might be doing the same thing, perhaps celebrating their unconventional wedding day at the scene of the crime.
“Excuse me,” he asked impulsively as the couple passed them. They stopped and turned with curious smiles on their faces.
“My name is Dan Mangan,” he said as he extended his hand, “and this is my fiancée Trixie Belden.”
“Arnold Walker,” the tall, broad-shouldered man gruffed guardedly but amiably as he shook Dan’s hand, “This is my wife, Rose.”
Dan cleared his throat nervously, “This is going to sound really weird, but I’m wondering if you have anything we can...borrow? We’re getting married today and we have the old, new, and blue; but we’re a little short on the borrowed.”
Arnold raised an eyebrow skeptically, but his wife looked amused. She squeezed her husband’s arm and murmured, “Oh, Arnie, isn’t that romantic?”
“What? Accosting perfect strangers on the beach and asking them to turn over personal items?”
“Arnie,” Rose scolded, “they only want to borrow. They’re not mugging us, for heaven’s sake.”
Trixie giggled, “We really will return it, because if we didn’t it would be stealing, not borrowing. And it doesn’t have to be anything substantial either. I can borrow a…pencil or something.”
Dan looked her up and down, “And just where are you going to carry a pencil?”
“I don’t know. I’ll stick it in my bouquet.”
Rose gasped in shock,
“A pencil! For heaven’s sake, child, I can do better than that.” She
reached into her pocketbook and pulled out a handkerchief. “You know,
my borrowed item was a handkerchief too. That was more than 40 years
ago.”
Trixie smiled as she took the offered linen handkerchief, “That sounds
like a good omen to me. Now, how can I get it back to you afterwards?”
Rose looked over at Dan and sniffed disdainfully, “I think you’d better come to our hotel room now and get your groom cleaned up before the big event.”
Trixie looked at Dan and giggled again. He had on denim shorts and an old pair of tennis shoes, worn without socks. His t-shirt was faded and there was a hole in the collar. “It’s our last day of vacation. I think Dan ran out of clean clothes.”
“Rose Marie Walker!” Arnold exclaimed, “Now you’re inviting these wild young kids to our hotel room? What on earth is the matter with you?”
“I have a good feeling about them, Arnie. The same good feeling I had when I first met you. Wild, indeed! They’re young and they’re in love. Do you want to tell them how soon after we met that we got married?”
The older man flushed and walked off a few steps towards the boardwalk, muttering under his breath. Rose looped her arm through Trixie’s and nodded towards Dan, “Come on then. Don’t mind Arnie. He’s a big softie underneath that ex-cop façade.”
Trixie gasped. Another good omen. “He was a police officer? Dan starts his new job at the Albany Police Department next week.”
Arnie overheard that and turned around with a pleased look on his face, “Is that so? Well, maybe I can find a clean shirt for you to wear to your wedding. Can’t have a cop looking like he just washed up on shore like a piece of driftwood.”
Rose leaned over and whispered conspiratorially into Trixie’s ear, “He may look like he walked off the set of Hawaii 5-0 though.”
Trixie laughed. This was all too surreal. What a story they’d have to share with their children and grandchildren!
Up in the Walkers’ hotel room, Arnie had a number of shirts he thought were suitable, but it took Rose and Trixie some time to choose one that wasn’t too glaringly bright. “The groom shouldn’t outshine the bride, Arnie!” Rose reprimanded. “And he certainly shouldn’t blind her either!”
She thrust the approved shirt into Dan’s hands, along with a pair of khaki shorts and reasonably nice-looking sandals, all belonging to her husband, and sent Dan into the bathroom to shave his vacation stubble. When she turned to evaluate Trixie’s appearance, she smiled and sighed happily. “Lovely. You look just…”
“Perfectly perfect?” Trixie offered.
Rose gasped in delight, “Perfectly perfect! What an enchanting turn of phrase! Yes, you do indeed look perfectly perfect! Now, when and where does the happy event take place?”
“Well,” Trixie mumbled sheepishly, “we haven’t actually gotten that far." Glancing at the clock on the bedside table, she sighed, “And it doesn’t look like we’ll get the Justice of the Peace before the courthouse closes, either. I guess that leaves us with an Elvis impersonator at the Chapel O’ Love.”
“Don’t worry about it, child. Arnie and I got married by a ship’s captain on a horrid tugboat in New York Harbor. It’s not about the location, it’s all about the love, which I can tell you two have an abundance of.”
She picked up the leather-bound hotel guide from the dresser and handed it to Trixie. “I’m sure you can find what you need in here. In fact, I think there’s a chapel right in this very hotel.”
“You and Mr. Walker will come stand up for us, won’t you?” Trixie asked hopefully.
Rose squealed, “Absolutely!” at the same time her husband scowled out an outraged “Hrrmph!” and Trixie knew they’d be there for her and Dan.
*****************************************
The hotel chapel was booked, so Trixie picked a chapel that was nearby
out of the hotel guide Rose had given her.
“Why that one?” Dan asked over her shoulder.
“I’m trying to stick with the good omens,” Trixie answered, “This one is called Our Lady Guadalupe of the Boardwalk.”
“How is that a sign?”
“You and I met that winter the B.W.G.’s did the fundraiser for Dolores and Lupe Perez and their school library in Mexico.”
“That’s a pretty thin connection, babe.”
“Would you rather get married at the Hunka-Hunka Chapel of Burning Love?”
Dan laughed, “Good point.”
He called and made sure they had an opening, and the two couples left the hotel for the short walk to the chapel. Dan and Trixie were flushed and excited, squeezing each other’s hand every couple of steps. Rose was chattering away almost as excitedly as if it were her own children getting married, while Arnold trailed a short distance behind, grumbling to himself.
When they entered the chapel, they were greeted enthusiastically by a short, dark-haired man with a thick mustache who introduced himself as Father Rajeeb Gunther O’Konski.
Whispering close to Dan’s ear, Trixie asked, “So he’s Indian-German-Irish-Polish?”
“Don’t forget Mexican Catholic,” Dan snickered back.
They were handed what looked like a plastic-covered menu, but what turned out to be an odd assortment of the wedding packages available to them. These included the obligatory Star Trek wedding, Elvis wedding, and even a nude wedding, which set Rose Walker into a fit of giggles as her husband turned red and threatened to walk out of the chapel if Dan and Trixie even thought about choosing that option.
Trixie pointed out one of the packages to Dan. “That looks suitable,” she said solemnly, or almost so, as she tried vainly to suppress her own fit of laughter.
It included a bouquet and veil for Trixie, matching gold bands, music, vows, disposable cameras for the guests to take pictures, and one 8x10 framed photo of the newly married couple. When Dan looked closer to see why Trixie was giggling, he saw her pointing at the price of the package: $69.69.
Turning red, Dan
whispered, “I’m surprised that’s not the price for the nude wedding.”
“Half yew de cider?”
They looked up at Father O’Konski with flummoxed expressions on their faces. “I’m sorry?” Dan asked.
“Whech wan?” the minister replied impatiently, pointing at the menu.
“Oh, yes. We’ll take this one,” Dan answered, pointing to the $69.69 package.
The ceremony was hastily arranged, and soon Trixie stood before Dan with a small bouquet of silk flowers in her hand and what appeared to be a princess tiara and veil from a child’s Halloween costume on her head. “You look quite…fetching, my sweet,” Dan chortled, his dark eyes sparkling with love and delight. His amusement earned him a punch in the arm from his bride, though her eyes were shining even more brightly than his.
Father O’Konski’s accent was thick and defied all reasonable placement of country or ethnicity. It was like something out of a low budget foreign film populated entirely by American actors...really bad American actors.
Dan wondered if this man might actually be a bad American actor. He thought it might be prudent to show some skepticism. “Are you sure you’re ordained to perform this kind of ceremony?” he asked, “I mean, legally?”
“Da, uf kerse,” the minister replied scornfully. “You wahntink to see the ploma?”
“The what?” Dan asked.
“The ploma, the ploma,” the minister replied impatiently, and without waiting for a reply, which Dan was unable to give, he huffed out of the room.
Trixie had been biting her lip, trying hard not to laugh. Now she burst out with a squeaky, “I think he’s going to get his diploma, Dan!”
“Oh,” Dan was uneasy, but it was hard not to be infected by Trixie’s contagious laughter. “Are you sure you want this guy to marry us?”
“I think it’s too late,” Trixie gasped out, “We already gave him the money.”
Dan rolled his eyes and leaned in closer to Trixie, so that the Walkers wouldn’t overhear him. “Do you think he has any idea what he’s implied by charging $69.69 for this package? Or do you think he simply spends too much time watching the QVC?”
They both stifled more laughter as the minister returned, flourishing a crisp diploma, surely obtained from www.priests-r-us.com. As far as either of them could tell, it was genuine, though it was hard to actually read it through their tears of mirth.
“Satchified?” Father O’Konski asked in a greatly offended tone.
“Yes, of course,” Dan replied, handing back the “ploma” as he tried hard to look solemn.
“Now den, your noms pleez.”
They both stared at him for a moment, until he snatched their marriage license out of Trixie’s hands with a roll of his eyes and read it himself, “Beawtriss Ahreen Beelden, repate affah me.”
It was all Trixie could do not to burst out into laughter again. She waited for him to say something that she could repeat, but he was silent for a long moment, looking heavenward with a puzzled expression. Trixie glanced up at the ceiling, then at Dan, who just shrugged.
“Dommit.”
“Dommit?” Trixie queried.
“No, no,” he waved impatiently, “Dawn rapate dat! I fergeet sumting.”
He turned abruptly and left the room.
“Last chance, Beelden,” Dan snickered. “We can always make more money at the craps table and find ourselves a minister that, you know, speaks English.”
“I think it’s hysterical.”
“Yes, but hysterical is not really an adjective that should be used to describe our wedding day.”
“We’ll laugh about it
later.”
“We’re laughing about it now!”
Suddenly, a somewhat disco-esque version of “You Light Up My Life” piped in, several decibels too loudly, causing Dan and Trixie to jump and then burst into laughter again.
Father Rajeeb reappeared and hastily disappeared again. For several minutes, the music faded in and out in volume, pitch, and tone as controls were adjusted behind the scenes.
“Is Debby Boone a deal breaker?” Trixie asked in mock seriousness.
“She should be,” Dan groaned, “but I guess it could be worse. It could be Barry Manilow.”
“Hey! I like Barry!”
“I know; and yet I’m marrying you anyway. It must be love.”
“Sweeties!” Rose Walker called. Dan and Trixie looked over to where the dear woman held her disposable camera and smiled as she clicked away. Arnold Walker simply rolled his eyes. His camera lay untouched on the seat beside him.
“We got a great deal on a photographer,” Trixie chuckled. “I think Mrs. Walker is having the best day of her life since she got married.”
“Yeah, but have you noticed her finger is over the lens? It has been every time I’ve looked over there. I have a feeling we’re not going to have much in the way of photographic evidence.” He let out a grunt as Trixie elbowed him. “Memories, I meant memories.”
“If you’re having second thoughts about this, Dan...”
“I’m not!” he stated emphatically. “Not about marrying you anyway. I just thought a girl’s wedding day should be sort of…special.”
“This is special...in a retarded kind of way,” Trixie laughed.
“Now, now, Trix, not retarded,” Dan chided, “Nuptially challenged.”
Trixie laughed as she pressed her body close to Dan’s and ran one hand up underneath the back of his shirt. “Anyway, just having you here with me is what makes it special.”
“Well, if I wasn’t
here, it would make getting married kind of hard, wouldn’t it?”
“Smart ass! You know what I mean,” Trixie scolded.
She pursed her lips
asking for his kiss and he happily obliged her. They were fervently
tangled up in one another when they were interrupted by the return of
the minister.
“No! No! You cahnt kees chother yawt!” he shouted in a horrified tone. He even went so far as to forcibly pull Trixie and Dan apart, then took their hands and clasped them chastely together. They turned to face him and he stared sternly at the blushing bride.
“Dare. Now, rapate affah me. Ah, Beawtriss.”
“I, Beatrix.” She quickly spat out the words, then clenched her jaw tightly to keep from laughing.
“Dake dee, Denial.”
Her face was so contorted she thought surely the minister must believe she was being forced into this marriage.
“Take thee, Daniel,” she managed to squeak out, as Dan pinched her bottom trying to keep her in line.
“To be my loftly wetted housban.”
“To be my lawfully wedded husband.”
“Goot. Now you, Denial.”
As Dan just stared at him dumbly, wondering where the rest of the vows had disappeared to, Father O’Konski prompted impatiently, “Ah, Denial.”
“I, Daniel.”
“Dake dee, Beawtriss.”
“Take thee, Beatrix.”
“To be my loftly wetted weef.”
A smothered giggle escaped from Trixie’s lips. As the minister shot a glare at her, she quickly cleared her throat and tried to look serious as Dan concluded his vow.
“To be my lawfully wedded weef - er, wife.”
“Goot. Andy ting awls?”
Short vows, Dan thought. That’s probably a goot ting...er, good thing. “Um,” he ventured, “Can we exchange our own vows?”
“Da, uf kerse. It’s clued in the pockish.”
“It’s what in the what?” Dan asked.
“De vowels. Sigh whet you wand.”
Dan leaned over so Trixie could giggle softly into his ear, “The vows are included in our package. Say what you want.”
He smiled at her, “Well, here’s where I get my money’s worth.”
Her eyes were bluer and brighter than he had ever seen them and her face fairly glowed with joy. He turned to her and took both her hands in his, hoping all that was on his heart would somehow make its way to his brain and out his mouth. He wanted to express how he felt about her, but he’d had no time to prepare. He just prayed that somehow he would be understood...at least as well as she seemed to understand their minister.
“Trixie Belden – “
“Whet?” interrupted the minister, “Hose dis Tritsy?”
“I am,” Trixie hastily supplied. “Beawtriss, er, Beatrix I mean, is my given name. But everybody calls me Trixie.”
“Da, uf kerse. Counting yew.”
“Continue,” Trixie interpreted and Dan smiled, gently rolling his eyes. He never in a million years pictured the most important moment of their lives so…absurdly.
“Trixie Belden,” he began again, “I love you with all my heart. You have made my life an adventure. You’re my best friend...but, uh, don’t tell Mart that...or Tad. And don’t tell Tad I said Mart first. And don’t tell Mart I said Tad at all.” He winked at his beaming bride. Bizarro wedding you want, bizarro wedding you get, babe.
Trixie's laughter rang out like music and Dan’s heart soared.
“You’re my soulmate, you’re my partner, you’re my family. You gave me a family. Not only your wonderful parents and your brothers, but because of you, I’m a Bob-White.”
“Hose dis Bawb?” Father O’Konski interrupted.
Dan glared at him as Trixie burst into laughter again.
Squeezing her hands tightly, Dan continued. “Trixie, I’m going to love you as if every day were our last day on earth. And I’m going to love you like every moment is the first moment we fell in love.
“I want to fill your life, not only with love and happiness, but with so much adventure, excitement, mystery, action, and thrills that we’ll send James Bond to the old folks’ home.”
Trixie smiled brightly at that, but Dan heard Arnold Walker huffing behind him. Old cops never die...and apparently they never fade away either, Dan thought with a grin.
There was so much more he could say, so much more he wanted to say, but it would never be enough to express his love for this woman.
“I’m the luckiest man in the world,” he choked out, “and I love you, Trixie.”
“Dat awl?” Father Rajeeb asked, almost before the word “Trixie” was out of Dan’s mouth.
He nodded. At least he
wasn’t being escorted off the stage for speaking too long.
“Miss Beelden.”
Trixie lowered her eyes and was silent for a long time. She squeezed Dan’s hands hard and Dan swore he could hear her swallowing the lump that lay in her throat. When she raised her eyes to meet Dan’s they sparkled like the most exquisite sapphires the world had ever seen.
“Danny, I love you. And I just wish there were words to express how much I love you. You trust me. You encourage me.”
Dan’s eyes twinkled, “I don’t know that that’s always a wise thing.”
Trixie laughed softly. “You make me feel like I can do anything, like I can be anybody I want to be. And I want to be your wife. I want to be Mrs. Daniel Mangan.” She paused and shrugged, that enchanting blush creeping across her cheeks. "I'll say it better next year."
"I think you said it pretty well, Mrs. Mangan," Dan murmured.
The words rang in his ears like the wedding bells that didn’t exist in the cheesy little chapel. For a moment, he thought he might even faint. But then she came back into focus, her blue eyes and impish smile, the spattering of freckles across her pert little nose, and her bouncing curls. He wanted so badly to kiss her. Right now.
As if he knew he was vainly trying to hold back the flood, the minister quickly announced, “By the poor vetched in me by the stay of New Juicy, I now pronunsed you man and weef. You may kees the bright.”
“Finally!” Dan breathed. He hesitated just a moment, a memory drifting into his brain. Then he reached out and put his hand around Trixie’s waist. He pulled her to him and kissed her, gently and briefly, not very Bondesque, but just about perfect. No, it was perfect, and Trixie’s soft, contented sigh confirmed it. "I love you, my weef," Dan whispered and Trixie giggled and kissed him again.
“WAIT!”
Trixie gasped and Dan nearly dropped her from his arms, he was so startled.
“Rinks! Rinks! Day are clued in the pockish!” He grabbed Dan and Trixie’s hands and without preamble or vows, slid plain, matching gold bands on their ring fingers. “Dare! Now you aw merry.”
“Good god!” came Arnold’s indignant grumble, “That was almost as bad as our wedding, Rosie.”
But when Trixie and Dan looked over, they saw his eyes twinkling and his lips curving into a smile, belying his gruff tone as his hand reached over and affectionately squeezed his wife’s. Rose dabbed at her eyes with his offered handkerchief and took a few more pictures, finger squarely over the lens.
Dan and Trixie looked into each other’s eyes with unspeakable love and affection, and as they kissed again, a shower of dried Rice-A-Roni cascaded over their heads, sending them both into gales of helpless laughter once more.
*****************************************
Dan woke up the next morning to find his wife – he smiled at that –
sprawled across him. Not just an arm, not just a leg, but her entire
body was on top of his, as if he were the pillow-top mattress and his
chest the down-filled pillow. He certainly wasn’t complaining.
Trixie was nearly a foot shorter than he was, and fit comfortably across his lanky frame. If anybody called her “sturdy” now, they weren’t referring to childhood baby fat, but to a lean fitness that suited her well. She couldn’t weigh more than 125 pounds and there wasn’t an ounce of fat on her. Dan slid his hands down to her round bottom; well, maybe a little there, but that only made her very squeezable. Dan was frankly glad she wasn’t bony; he loved sturdy.
He lay still, not wanting to disturb her, but wanting to soak in every minute detail of this picture perfect first morning for Mr. and Mrs. Mangan.
The way her soft curls brushed up against his chin and neck.
The sweet smell of raspberry that emanated from her golden tanned skin.
The way her heart beat gently against his chest.
Her legs, flung on either side of him, the toes of one foot brushing against his calf.
He could even feel the corner of her lips against his chest and grinned as he realized that in her sleep she had drooled on him just a little.
He turned his head slightly and saw her hand lying on the sheets, the rings glittering in the light that poured in from the balcony. Even her chewed up nails couldn’t detract from their beauty. Dan grinned again. No polished, refined lady his Trixie, but then he preferred her natural, no-fuss demeanor.
He’d never have to worry that she’d hassle him for chipping one of her nails, or mussing up her perfectly coiffed hair-do, or spilling beer on her silk blouse.
On the other hand, he probably would have to worry that she’d mess around with his service revolver, or want to go on a ride-along with him, or use his handcuffs for nefarious purposes.
Well, maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.
Above the gentle roar of the ocean, the angry squawks of seagulls could be heard as they dodged the morning beachcombers in their search for breakfast. The cool breeze blew in through the balcony’s screen door and caressed Dan’s cheek, even as his fingers caressed Trixie’s.
He stretched out his hand and locked his fingers around hers. He kissed the top of her head and said a prayer of thanks for the miracle his life had become.
Trixie breathed out a soft sigh of contentment as she slept, snuggling closer to Dan’s chest.
Now, he thought. Now, everything is perfect.
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AUTHOR'S NOTES
CHAPTER 13 (4,694 words)
This is the first chapter where I have not directly used the title of a Robert Frost poem. The Frost poem is entitled “Once By the Pacific”. Yes, from the file of little known facts of the strange but true, the iconic farmer poet of New England was actually born in San Francisco.
No insult is intended to Mr. Manilow. Dan said he just wanted to tease Heather and Lori a little bit. No insult is intended to Ms. Boone either, even though I don't know anyone who actually likes that song. <g>
If it isn’t completely obvious, I did zero research on the wedding chapels and ceremonies offered in Atlantic City. This over-the-top absurdity was way more fun than anything more realistic. <g>
Rice-A-Roni is a trademarked name and I'm using it without permission and definitely without profit.