"These are illegal in this country," I said with mock sternness. "And you, a government employee, has them in your possession."
He burped, firing his up with a disposable lighter. The fragrant smoke drifted off behind the boat. "Yep," he commented, unconcerned that he was violating a federal law. "A buddy of mine makes a trip up to Calgary every couple a months and picks me up some. That little shitpot country ain't good for much but goddam do they know how to make a cigar."
I took his lighter and, after considerable work in the wind, managed to get mine burning. I'd never been much of a cigar smoker but Jack was right, there was something about a good Cuban. I had a sudden vision of offering him a few tokes off of the illegal smokeable that I had stored in my bible and the image of Nina's father getting stoned was so amusing that I had to suppress a grin.
We smoked in silence for a few minutes, feeling the stern of the boat go up and down, left and right in the swells, watching the sea sick people that were still laying out on every available surface. I was gathering my courage to bring up the subject that I wished to talk about. Jack, perhaps sensing my mood, simply sat there.
"Can I show you something Jack?" I asked him finally.
"Sure," he told me, tossing his empty beer can into a garbage can six feet away; a fairly remarkable shot I might add.
I reached into my pocket and took out a small box that I'd carried with me the entire trip. Inside of it was what I'd purchased downtown the other day. Wordlessly, I handed it over to him. He looked at the felt-lined box for a moment, his eyes narrowing. Finally he opened it and beheld the diamond ring that sat inside.
"That's an engagement ring, isn't it?" he asked, snapping the box shut and handing it back.
"It is," I agreed.
"I'm already married," he told me. "And I don't think I'm your type. But I'm flattered."
I laughed nervously. "I think you know who the ring is for," I told him.
"I guess I do," he nodded, opening the ice chest. "Why are you showing it to me?"
"Because I'm asking your permission to marry your daughter," I said. "A little old-fashioned maybe, but I know how much she means to you and I thought I owed you this."
"You're asking me permission?" he asked, considering this while he pulled two beers from the ice and handed me one. "And suppose I say no? What are you going to do then?"
"Are you saying no?" I asked, cracking open my beer.
"I'm not saying anything just yet," he answered. "I'm just curious as to what you're going to do if I say no."
"Ask her anyway," I admitted. "I think you know that."
He chuckled. "Then I guess this whole conversation is pretty much meaningless then, isn't it? No matter what I say, you're still going to do it."
"But I'd feel better about doing it," I explained, "if I had your permission, which would necessarily include your blessing. It also would make you a co-conspirator when we tell Mary."
He laughed harder. "Mary scares you a little bit does she?"
"A little," I admitted.
"Good," he nodded. "Maybe that fear will keep you in line." He looked meaningfully at me. "I'd be proud to have you as a son-in-law Bill. You have my permission and you have my blessing." He held out his hand to me.
I shook with him, feeling relieved that this conversation had gone well. "Thanks Jack, thanks a lot."
He nodded, puffing his cigar. "But those threats I made to you that one day, remember those? They still apply. Even more so now."
"I'll keep it in mind."
"When are you going to ask Nina for HER permission?" he asked next.
"Soon. Very soon."
Chapter 16
Saturday, the 28th of July, 1984. Dad and I dressed in our suits and climbed into the car for the trip to Blessed Sacrament church. Mom stayed behind, her official reason being that someone had to stay with Tracy. This was only an excuse and everyone knew it. Tracy's cast had been removed and she was now able to hobble around on the braces that had been installed. She was starting physical therapy the following Monday and would no longer need an ambulance to take her places. Tracy would have been perfectly fine by herself but no one questioned Mom's decision. If anyone had, perhaps the REAL reason that she wasn't going would have come flying out of her mouth and with it, an entire can of worms. Nobody wanted that.
So we drove in silence, stifling in our suits, alone in the car. We arrived at Blessed Sacrament and were led to the bride's side of the church by an usher. Blessed Sacrament is perhaps the nicest church in the Spokane area. It is an impressive, gothic structure with expensive stained-glass windows and a towering ceiling. It has an actual belfry. Anita's wedding in my previous life, for reasons that I could not fathom, had not been held there, it had been held at a park. I wasn't much of a church going person, never had been, never would be, but I'd been inside it a few times before recycling on calls. People had a strange tendency to pass out during church services, don't ask me why, but any paramedic can attest to this. We used to joke that maybe the person was having a moment of religious doubt and a vengeful God had showed them the error of their ways in dramatic fashion.
It looked much more festive on that day than it ever had when I'd come to revive someone. Flowers were everywhere, filling the air with their perfume. An organist was playing religious hymns at soft volume, keeping everyone in the proper mood. Photographers and a man with a video camera moved here and there, snapping and filming away. The pews were about half-filled, mostly with people we didn't know. I recognized a few of the real estate agents from my trip to Anita's office and hoped that none of them would recognize me. I didn't think they would. If I'd left an impression at all on any of them it would have been as a boy bundled in a down jacket and wearing a ski hat. I doubted they would equate that image with the nicely dressed young man they saw before them now.
The ceremony began. The organist kicked up the volume a little and Jack Valentine made his entrance accompanied by his best man. They were dressed in matching tuxedos and he looked very distinguished, very worldly as he marched down the aisle and took his position near the minister.
And then Anita made her entrance. She was truly beautiful in her flowing white dress and veil, her hair done just right. Her father, I knew, was no longer a part of this Earth so in his place she was accompanied down the aisle on the arm of Ryan, her young son who was dressed cutely in a tuxedo of his own. Her maid of honor and bridesmaids trailed behind her. Her daughter held the trailing edge of her dress.
Like graduations, weddings are usually much more fun to anticipate than they are to actually witness. The minister went on and on for nearly twenty minutes about love and respect and nurturing before he got to the wedding vows. These went on for nearly ten minutes though they were admittedly well written. Another ten minutes of talking, lecturing, and praying occurred before we got to the good part; the part that ended with, "you may kiss the bride". Jack did and we moved on to part two, the reception.
Enders Hall was a large, multi-purpose building that had been designed with wedding receptions in mind. Tables were scattered throughout it with pink tablecloths adorning them and little cards with the names of the guests printed on them. A four-piece band played softly in one corner of the room.
An open bar was set up in another corner. In yet another corner was a large table where the wedding gifts were being stacked. We placed the punchbowl set that Mom had purchased on the table and then went and found our seats.
Dad got himself a beer and me a coke while I chatted with our table companions, two of Anita's co-workers, one of whom had been present the day I'd visited the office. She showed no sign of recognizing me. When she asked how I knew Anita I told her I was a neighbor that used to cut her lawn and watch her kids on occasion.