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Hundreds of couples had passed through the Little White Wedding Chapel in the fifteen years that Paul West had acted as minister: old couples; young couples; couples that were divorced in a fortnight and even a couple dressed up in white jumpsuits and rhinestones like Elvis, but in all his years Paul West had never encountered a couple like the Hookers.
It was a still September night when Paul met Jesse Hooker. The chapel was modest but intimate, built in the Spanish Mission style with white stucco walls and a red tiled floor. Rows of white candles still flickered by the altar, making the shadows dance along the walls. Paul exited his small back office, jangling his keys in one hand as he prepared to lock up the chapel for the night. To his initial shock, he saw that the front doors had been blown open, and there was a figure, tall and gaunt as a scarecrow, standing on the veranda.
"Nice evenin'," the man said, though it hadn't actually been evening for a full three hours. "My name's Hooker. Jesse. I was hopin' I could arrange a service at this fine chapel o' yours."
"Of course," Paul replied, blinking as he fumbled with his keys. "You'd like to book a wedding? Are you the, ah, groom?"
Jesse had a slow smile, charming on his weather-beaten face. "I am, at that. But I already been married. It's our anniversary. `Bout time we should renew our vows."
"Wonderful!" A grin spread across Paul's face. "What a romantic, important gesture. We have a few open timeslots this week--"
"Tomorrow. At 10."
"I'm afraid we're booked solid in the morning."
"At night."
Arching an eyebrow slightly at the man's tone, Paul nodded. "We can make a special arrangement, yes. As for the cost..."
Jesse pushed a crumpled wad of twenty dollar bills into Paul's hand. "That should cover it. We won't take up too much of your time."
"Oh. All right." Paul swallowed. "Any other requests?"
"Music is nice." Jesse took a step forward, peering into the dimly lit chapel. He raised his chin approvingly. "Candles. Lots of candles."
The two men shook hands to seal the arrangement, and if Jesse Hooker's skin was unusually cold in the Texas summer night, Paul West didn't notice.
---
The Hookers were strangers in town (Paul guessed as much when they rolled up in an RV that looked like it had driven through the Dust Bowl) and strange-lookin' to boot, but he could tell at a glance that they were just as loving and tightly knit as any family that had walked through the chapel's doors. Paul stood on the veranda and waved to them, before glancing back inside.
His wife Rosa stood next to the altar, lighting the last of the candles. She looked as pretty as a creek full of catfish in her floral print dress, and the candlelight gave her round cheeks a rosy glow. He felt a surge of affection for her. Twenty-six years they'd been married, and he couldn't rightly say he regretted any of them. You never knew how much time you had, that was sure enough. Just that morning he'd read an article in the paper about John and Zelda Walker, a couple he'd married in that very chapel only fourteen months before. They'd been out late driving when their car had skidded off the road and into a pole, bursting into flames. A damn shame. It would do his old heart good to renew the Hookers' vows and relish in their joy.
In the midst of death, we are in life. A-men.
Abe the piano player sat on his bench, running a hand over his black pompadour. He put a cigarette in his mouth and raised his Zippo to his lips when Paul hollered at him: "How many times do I got to tell you, no smoking in the chapel!"
With a shrug, Abe pocketed the lighter.
Paul turned and was startled to see Jesse right in front of him, looking more like an undertaker than a groom in an ill-fitting black suit. "Howdy, Minister," he said with that same slow smile. He indicated the woman beside him. "This is the lady of the evening."
"Diamondback," she said proudly, giving Paul a handshake that made his fingers ache. Her "gown" looked like it had been stitched together from various thrift store finds: a low-cut black top, a tiered red skirt and boots that had seen their share of combat. She was a fierce beauty, no mistaking that.
"And these are our kin," she added, nodding her head toward the three in a row standing behind her like bedraggled ducklings. Introductions were brief: Homer, the youngest, had an unwashed face and a coat much too big for him; Mae was a pale, pretty gal holding the veil and a bouquet of wildflowers; and Severen smelled like damp earth and motor oil and wore jeans, a leather jacket, and a black bowtie.
"Let's get this party started!" Severen exclaimed with a wolfish grin, reminding Paul of the good-for-nothing boys his Gloria used to bring home when she was still in school. He sat himself down on a wooden bench, resting his feet on the seat in front of him. Furrowing his brow, Paul opened his mouth but was cut off by Jesse.
"You're in another man's house, boy," he scolded. "Show some respect."
Severen curled his lips and put his feet down. He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a stainless steel flask, unscrewing the top. Paul smelled high proof alcohol. He patted the young man's shoulder and he jerked away. "Save that for the celebration afterwards, okay son?"
"It's the blood of Christ, man," he laughed, and Paul just shook his head.
"Any requests?" Abe asked Jesse, cracking his knuckles.
"Something...traditional," he replied.
"They're really old fashioned!" Severen hollered from his bench, grinning like he'd said the funniest thing in the world. Jesse ignored him, more intent on watching Diamondback as Rosa helped fix her veil atop her wild mane of platinum hair.
They were in love, that much was plain to Paul in the way they exchanged furtive glances and constantly touched each other--not in a lewd way, like teenagers pawing each other in the back of a movie theater--but like an old married couple completely familiar and content with each other's bodies. Jesse slid his hand in Diamondback's and Paul looked away, feeling slightly guilty, like a peeping tom.
"We're just about ready, dear," Rosa said in Paul's ear.
"Come on, honey," Diamondback purred, leading Jesse to the front of the chapel.
Paul threaded his fingers together, smiling at the couple, but just then Homer's voice cut through the air.
"Where's Mae?"
---
Paul found the little lost bridesmaid walking past the RV, down the long, deserted stretch of road. Her heels stirred up dust in her wake.
"Honey, where are you going?" Paul called, using a warm, paternal tone as if talking to Gloria after she'd had her heart broken. She stopped, but did not face him. "Everyone's waiting for you."
"I don't want to be here."
Paul stood beside her now. She began to pick at her bouquet, beheading the Black-Eyed Susans with a harsh snap of her fingers. Paul placed his old, liver-spotted hand over her small, smooth one.
"Oh honey, don't do that. Save them for the ceremony. Your mother--"
Mae tilted her head up toward the sky. It was open, endless, and full of stars. "She's not my mother," she said. "My mama's dead."
Ah. Paul nodded in understanding. "You don't ever replace someone you love, sweetheart. But when you find someone who does, you don't push them away. Now, I only met your daddy once before this in my entire life. But what I see between him and his wife is real and true."
"It is." Paul was surprised to hear her agree with him. Their gazes locked, Mae leaning closer like she was revealing some terrible truth. "They've got somethin'...I ain't never gonna have."
Smiling, Paul patted her hand. She did sound just like Gloria. It didn't matter what decade it was, or how times changed...teenagers would always be teenagers. "Honey," he said, "Don't worry so much about romance. You got your whole life ahead of you."
Mae laughed. "And then some."
A small but severe voice called out to them from the veranda. The boy, Homer. "Mae. It's time."
They both turned, Mae clutching what remained of the bouquet to her chest. Her face, already so pale in the moonlight, seemed for a moment to be just a bit paler. She kissed Paul's cheek. It was quick and soft, like a flower petal had been brushed against his skin.
"Sorry for the trouble," Mae whispered, and then she was trotting ahead of him to meet Homer at the chapel doors. As Mae slipped back inside, Homer fixed Paul with a sullen, squinty look.
He sighed. Children.
---
"...To love and to cherish, till death do us part."
Jesse and Diamondback had decided against their own wedding vows, choosing, as with their wedding march, something traditional. Jesse slid a gold ring on Diamondback's finger and kissed her, earning hoots and applause from Severen in the front row. He was the only one who seemed happy; Mae kept her head down, exchanging small, secret glances with Homer that Paul caught out of the corner of his vision.
He congratulated the couple, shaking Jesse's hand. "How long did you say you'd been married?"
Jesse's lips twitched into a smile. "Didn't."
Rosa fawned over Diamondback, touching the lace on her veil and telling her how pretty she was. "May I see the ring?" she asked, and Diamondback obligingly held up her left hand.
"Paul...? Paul, come look." He heard a strange lilt in Rosa's voice, like uncertainty. He strode over to the two women and took Diamondback's hand in his own. The ring was a simple gold band with an inscription. He narrowed his eyes to read it, wishing he had his glasses. Then his eyes widened.
To Zelda.
"Isn't it beautiful?" Diamondback asked. She looked back at her husband, red lips parting in a grin that showed off her very white teeth.
Something tightened in Paul's chest. It felt as though a hand was gripping his heart and squeezing it. He turned to Jesse, struggling to keep his voice calm. "Mr. Hooker, why don't you come into my office? I think we need to talk."
Jesse took a step closer. It was only then that Paul realized how much taller the man was. There was no trace of his slow smile. "Is something wrong?"
"No. There...there isn't."
"You asked how long we'd been married," Jesse continued, looking beyond Paul now, connecting his thoughts. "I'd say this is--what?--our diamond anniversary."
Paul chuckled. He still did not realize the full danger he was in. "No, that's--that would mean you've been together for sixty years."
"Yes. I guess it would."
There was a scream behind them, and Paul whirled around. Abe was hunched over his piano, clutching at his throat, blood seeping between his fingers and staining the ivory keys. Severen stood over him, a butterfly knife in his grip. There was no time for Paul to react, no time to process the events as Severen lunged at the body, lips pressing against the open wound and tongue lapping at the blood.
"Good God," Paul cried, reaching for Rosa, but Diamondback was quicker and pulled her away, slamming the woman's back against the wall. She tore off her veil and threw it in Rosa's terrified face, and then seized her. There was the ghastly sound of teeth tearing flesh and Rosa screamed for her life. Her hands scratched at Diamondback, trying to push her away, but though she was much larger than the creature biting her, she was not stronger.
Paul was paralyzed. Jesse stood in front of him, arms folded over his chest, and Paul knew there was no way to get past him. He stared in openmouthed horror as the child--oh sweet Christ the child--gnawed at Rosa's wrist, blood and flecks of spittle wetting his small mouth.
"It was a very lovely service," Jesse said, face and voice betraying no emotion. He moved towards Paul, and it was only then that he remembered his legs could move. Filled with a primal terror, he stumbled and found the sharp angle of the altar pressed against his back. He reached behind him, hands flailing for the wooden cross hung in the center of the wall. Pulling it down, he held it between Jesse's body and himself. Such monstrous brutality--they couldn't be human.
Jesse rolled his eyes and swatted the cross out of his hands.
Paul bolted down the aisle, thinking he heard Severen's laughter in his ears. Then he saw her. Mae stood by the door, hands crossed over her chest, looking as small and hopeless as anything he'd ever seen. "Come on, girl!" he spat, snatching her arm and pulling her with him. The door was open, they were almost outside, almost safe--
And then Mae was upon him, all sharp teeth and fingernails. There was no softness in this second kiss, no gentleness. She ripped into his neck and he gasped in pain. Eyes wide open, he could feel the blood leave him. He could also see Severen kicking the benches, opening his flask and pouring alcohol over everything he could. He saw Diamondback knocking over the candles that Rosa had lit. The flames ignited the fluid and the chapel began to burn. The wooden benches blackened and smoldered as orange flames licked at the ceiling. Smoke filled his lungs like poison, but it didn't matter. That wasn't what was killing him. Mae pulled away and then there was Jesse standing over him, and Paul West knew he would never perform another wedding at the Little White Wedding Chapel ever again.
---
Mae tore off her dress in the back of the RV. It reeked of smoke and she could still smell it on her even as she rolled it into a ball and threw it out one of the open windows. She pulled on her jeans and t-shirt and slipped back into the main cabin. Severen and Homer were still covered in ash, not that they cared to clean themselves up. Jesse was in the driver's seat, Diamondback curled up beside him. She ran her hand along his arm.
"That was wonderful, Jesse. Thank you."
"Where to now?" Severen asked, stretching his body along the seat.
Homer was examining a fold-out state map and marking it with a red pen. "There's that RV Park in Waco. Haven't been there in a while."
"Can we make it?" Diamondback looked at the clock on the dashboard, then at Jesse.
He nodded, eyes on the long black stretch of road. He glanced up at the rearview mirror. "Mae, you look like somethin's eating you up."
"She wants her own white wedding," Severen chortled.
"Shut up!" Mae snapped.
"Mae." Jesse was stern; he wasn't her father but he could sure sound like one. "We've talked about this."
"I'm lonely." Her voice rose and broke. "I can't help it."
"We're all you'll ever need," Homer said, fingers tightening around her wrist. She couldn't bear to look down at him.
"Relax, girl," Jesse said. "We'll find something in Waco to pick up your spirits."
"I doubt it," Mae murmured, collapsing into her seat and turning her gaze to one of the blackened windows. There was little she could do, even if she had her whole life ahead of her.
And then some.