Always Universe
Always Say You Love Me
By Missy, OldTimeFan and Shotzette

SERIES: Always Say You Love Me

UNIVERSE: Always...

AUTHOR: Missy, OldTimeFan,  Shotzette

EMAIL: lasfic@yahoo.com, shotzette@yahoo.com

PART: 1 of 1

RATING: PG (Adult thematic material, language)

PAIRING(s): L/L; S/C; R/S; F/E

DISTRIBUTION: To Myself  so far; any other archives are welcome to ask, but disclaimers must be included, my email left intact. send a URL, and provide full disclaimers as well as credit me fully. Please inform me if you are going to submit my work to any sort of search engine.  Please do not submit my work to a search engine that picks out random sets of words and uses them as key words, such as "Google"

Please contact me in order for this story to be placed on an archive, or if you want know of a friend who would enjoy my works, please email me their address and I will mail them the stories, expressly for the purpose of link trading. MiSTiers are welcomed! Please do inform me that you'd like to do the MiSTing, however, and send me a copy of the finished product. I'd also love to archive any MiSTings that are made of my work!

CATEGORY: Romance, Drama

FEEDBACK: PLEASE?!

SETTING IN TIMELINE: California, Post-I Do, I Don't

SEQUEL TO: Ever After, Always A Bridesmaid, Always Prepared, Always a Mess, Always Apologize First, Always a Challenge, Always Too Much Lasagna, Always There For You, Always About You, Always Looking In Higher Places, Always Something Else, Always Hide Your Waterballoons, Always Safe and Always Calm Before a Storm.  Fifteenth in this continuity.

SPOILERS FORL  The entire universe, I Do, I Don't.

SPOILLER/SUMMARY: Laverne and Lenny finally make it down the aisle, but there are still some surprises in store for the young couple; Emmaline wakes up with a strange bedfellow; Squiggy overcompensates for his guilt; the aftermath of Carmine and Athony’s gun battle is revealed.

NOTES: The vows were written by Shotzette; the toast was written by OldTimeFan; all other text in the fic besides the First Corinthians by Missy.

Obviously, the Adam West character in this fic is fictionalized and a total, utter parody. Think of it as an homage to a tribute to the poking Family Guy gives him all-but-weekly.

 

***

 

The night before her wedding, she dreamed of a lush garden filled with roses and tigerlilies.  She wandered dreamily through their midst, not daring to pluck a single one.

 

At the foot of the sandy trail, she found a woman wearing a red cloak, facing backward.  When she turned around, the face of her mother, beautiful as it had been before the cancer, smiled at her radiantly.

 

"Here, bambina," she said softly.  Laverne held out her arms and received four roses - she knew this meant she would have four babies in this life  - and then one more.  This last rose was bruised, and she knew that meant this last one would have a jeopardized life.  

 

"I don't know if I can handle that many," she murmured.

 

Her mother smiled serenely.  "You know God doesn't give us more than we can handle."

 

"But..."

 

"You'll learn," her mother said.  "Have faith, bambina.  You have the right man by your side."

 

Her mother's approval meant more than she'd imagined.  Relaxing slightly, Laverne admired the roses - there were three red and two pink ones - three boys and two girls?  

 

"It's time for you to go back," her mother informed her.  

 

"Mama," she said urgently.  "Will Pop come?"  She felt a flush of shame as her weakness was revealed.  She'd been angry with Frank for weeks, and the strength of Lenny's love had bolstered her for the inevitability of walking down the aisle alone.  She sure as hell wasn't going to break down and apologize. But whenever she'd envisioned her wedding, her Pop had been there to lead her to the priest.  It was so hard to surrender her childhood fantasies.

 

"You have hard heads," she appraised.  "But anything is possible."

 

Her mother's arms were soft and comfortable as they encircled her waist.  The gentle pressure of  her body felt so real...

 

Laverne's eyes flew open, and she was so dazed by her dream that she wasn't immediately sure of where she was.  The hardness of the floor and the rustle of her bridal veil brought her back to reality.

 

Groaning softly, she sat up and pushed back the top of her Army-issue sleeping bag and massaged a crick out of her neck.  She glanced up at the twin beds to her right and noticed her Grandma had vacated what had once been Shirley's bed, and Adrielle, Lenny's grandmother, had vacated what had once been her bed.  The clock told her it was seven AM.  Ruefully, she rubbed her pajama-clad arms and got out of bed, rolling up the bag and then tossing it in her closet.  So much for deferring to the bride, she thought crankily.  Her Grandma had come two days ago, Adrielle had been there for a day, and for the entirety of the time they'd shared  they'd done nothing but argue over recipes and tradition.  Would she and Lenny raise their kids in the church?  Would they move to Brooklyn or New Jersey?  Lasagna or Perogis?  She and Lenny had avoided all squirming by coming up with easy answers: yes, neither and both, please.  She thanked her lucky stars that both of their clans were hard-working people of immigrant stock - and for Carmine's stockpile of big band records, which he'd thoughtfully toted with him from New York.  Hell, she thanked the Lord for Carmine, period - and for Anthony.  The two big heroes had soaked up so much of the two women's attention that she and Lenny had managed to get off relatively easily with the occasional cross-examination.

 

She cocked an ear to the door as she pulled down her morning's wardrobe.  Shirley had taken all of the formal dresses to the motel room she was sharing with Carmine, and Laverne sure as hell didn't want to have breakfast and get her hair and makeup done in it and risk getting it dirty.  Downstairs pots rattled and happy voices called; someone was playing "In The Mood" on her turntable.  People were already awake at this impossible hour.  Maybe things would go well, she decided to posit - then looked at herself in the mirror.

 

She groaned and ran fingers over the ratty stiffness of the gauze and toilet-paper veil Shirley had made her for her bachelorette party- how had she fallen asleep in it?  Memories of last night returned and she grinned wickedly on recalling her last Walk The Plank In a Wet Teeshirt night came back. Good thing Sinbads had reinstated the old tradition; she didn't want to leave singledom behind in an ordinary way, and last night had been anything but ordinary.   And who knew Emmy had that kind of balance?  She had won that free round of shots fairly...As her eyes scanned the small suitcase she'd packed for her honeymoon, which had been haphazardly stuffed with the nighties given to her the night before, she realized that she and Lenny would never be bored.  

 

Her small party of bridesmaids had been pickled, but as usual her tolerance for alcohol had left her in good standing this morning.  Unlike Emmy, whom she'd put on a bus with the equally-pickled Fonzie earlier in the morning.  Hopefully, Fonzie had been able to bring out the best in her future sister-in-law.  And, she winced, even more hopefully nothing had happened between them that they couldn't undo.  Impatiently, Laverne pulled her mock-veil free from her hair, then set around making herself presentable.  After a shower, she dressed in a black miniskirt and white L-emblazoned blouse and decided she looked pretty good.  As she went digging through the mess of shoes at the bottom of the closet it was the sight of Lenny's clothing beside hers that made a warm flush of anticipation pinken her skin.

 

It was strange and yet comforting to have proof that this was all real, to notice that almost half of his things had joined hers in the apartment over the past week.   She was surprised once again by the lack of anxiety accompanying her.  This was nothing like Sal; it was pretty close to the way she'd felt when she hoped she was going to marry Randy.  It was right - and she didn't have to convince herself of that.

 

With a confident nod, she pulled the pumps out from the clutter.  You'd better be ready, Len, she thought to herself confidently.  'Cause I am.

 

***

 

Across the hallway, her groom had been up with the sunrise.  Already dressed in his neat gray suit, he sat at his kitchen table nervously mouthing the vows he planned on surprising his bride with.  He tried not to look at the room and think of it as Emmy and Mikey's place, but with his possessions gone and Squiggy's nearly entirely at Rhonda's place he felt sort of strange sitting there.

 

"No," he moaned to himself.  "Ugh, these're terrible. I wish I were a real poet..."

 

SLAM!  "Hello!"

 

Lenny's best man strolled casually over his shoulder and peeked at the vows.  "Pee-yew!  I ain't gonna sing that!"

 

Lenny stuck out his jaw.  "It ain't a song, stupid," Lenny said firmly, "thes're my vows."

 

Squiggy's dark brow furrowed.  "'Adore' don't rhyme with 'orange.'"

 

The blond sighed.  "Ain't you ever been in love?  Vows don't gotta rhyme, they just gotta be pretty!"

 

"'Pretty?!'  Len, I know you're about to dip your toe in the mud puddle of wedded bliss, but that ain't no reason to turn into a big fruit salad right before my eyeballs!"

 

"I ain't no pineapple, pal," Lenny put aside the vows and began plucking at his half-eaten breakfast, which he'd gotten from his worried Gaga earlier in the morning.  "I wish I could pay some guy to write these for me."

 

A look of extreme guilt crossed Squiggy's face.  "Aww, you old sap!" a rough slap to his shoulder nearly made Lenny choke on his bacon.  "Maybe this'll cheer you up," he called toward the doorway, "oh Veronnnnnicaaaa?"

 

Lenny turned his head and immediately put his eyes back to his vows - a willowy brunette in a gold-glitter-covered bellydance outfit jiggled her way into the room, chiming her finger cymbals.  Squiggy hummer 'Sheik of Araby' as the girl jiggled about; Lenny ignored her rolling belly until it was inches from his face.  "Squig!"

 

"Just a part of your bachelor party, my good man!"

 

"We had my bachelor party last night!  Remember, you got into a fight at the Jell-O matches?"

 

"Hey, it ain't my fault the dumb ref didn't recognize a legal pin when he saw it!"

 

"SQUIG, I didn't want any strippers!  Me and Vernie shook on it!"

 

"Aww, that's just so Shirl wouldn't take her to that Chip and Dale place.  And Veronica here ain't a stripper - she's a lady of the earwig!"

 

Lenny looked up at the girl, who sported kohl-marked eyes and bright red blush.  She wasn't his type at all but he smiled politely and nearly got a fateful of stomach in response.  "Get rid of her!"

 

"Tsk!  You're pooping on the party!  You need to be PUNISHED!"

 

As if on cue, the belly dancer produced a pair of handcuffs.  Lenny immediately shrunk back.

 

"I ain't gonna get stuck to her!"

 

"Why not?" Squiggy pouted.

 

"What if the cuffs lock up?  How'm I gonna explain a six-foot belly dancer at my wedding?"

 

"I ain't six-foot!" the stripper protested, her voice twenty octaves deeper than Lenny anticipated.  "I'm five-seven!"

 

"Wouldya relax?  They're the trick cuffs from our magic act!" Before Lenny could react, Squiggy had locked his right wrist and  Lenny's left in the cuffs. 

 

"You dope!" Lenny cried, jumping to his feet.  "We lost the keys to those in the move!"

 

Squiggy's brow furrowed, his mouth working soundlessly. 

 

Lenny slumped to the table with a groan.  "Think, Len, think -  maybe we could make a key out of Swiss cheese!"

 

Squiggy turned to the stripper.  "Do you do stuff with cheese?"

 

The bellydancer frowned.  "That'll cost you an extra twenty."

 

"Pay her," Lenny ordered Squiggy, and the smaller man obeyed.   As she walked out the door, it took him every ounce of emotional willpower not to beat the hell out of his best man on his wedding day.

 

He sat down, dragging Squiggy to his knees.   "What'rewegonnaowhatrewegonnado?" he whined.

 

Squiggy's eyes flashed.  "I got it!"

 

"What?"

 

"Get me a hacksaw!"

 

Lenny walked over to the kitchen and searched under the sink, where they kept the majority of their tools, thereby dragging Squiggy across the room with sheer force.  "This'd better work - we gotta be at the church in four hours for pictures!"

 

"Don't worry - it don't take a lot of skill to saw  your arm off..."

 

Lenny turned and seized Squiggy by his lapels.  "YOU AIN'T SAWING MY ARM OFF, SQUIGGMAN!"

 

"Watch the hair.  WATCH THE HAIR!"  Lenny took a deep breath and released him, turning his back on Squiggy - an impossible feat.  "Wouldya calm down!  You're just tying yourself down for ever and ever and ever!  That ain't a big deal."

 

"It kinda is," Lenny said, his smile mocking.  His eyes brightened.  "I'll call my dad at the hotel!"

 

"You're gonna have your dad marry Laverne?"

 

"No, stupid!  I'm gonna have him come over and pick the handcuffs open!  He had to do stuff like this all the time in the service."

 

"So?  MY dad had a special name in the service!"

 

"Yeah?" Lenny grunted, grabbing the tattered Yellow Pages from its position by the phone and flipping to 'motels'.

 

"'Executive Landmine Finder.'  He was a real big shot."

 

Lenny groaned.  "Just help me find the motel, okay?"

 

A hangdog expression marred Squiggy's features, but he did as he was told.

 

***

 

Down at the Shiny Pines Trailer park, Edna DeFazio dabbed violet water behind her ears and took one last good look at her reflection - not bad for an old dame.   The pale pink princess-cut suit Rhonda'd had tailored for the occasion was flattering, as was the small pillbox hat with netting that topped her head.

 

"You can still come with me, if you want."  Frank grunted from the kitchen table, stuffing breakfast into his mouth.  Frank had discovered she was attending the wedding by the simple power of deduction, but not once had he raged about the situation.  Instead, the old man had sunk into a Neanderthal-style moroseness.  Edna shook her head - the old coot was still as stubborn as hell.  "If it means anything to you, Laverne wants you there - she's just too stubborn to tell you that."

 

Frank snorted.  "She told me to get out of her life.  So I'm out of her life."

 

"You could at least go to see your mother and Anthony."

 

"I saw 'em at the train station."

 

"This is going beyond ridiculous," she groused.  "Your only kid is getting married and instead of going you're  going to sit here and watch Rawhide repeats all afternoon?"

 

Anger and sadness warred for control of Frank's features.  "Rowdy goes on a cattle drive in this one," he muttered.

 

Livid, Edna grabbed her purse from the table and strolled to the door.  "Hang on to your pride, Frank," she snapped.  "Soon, it'll be all you have left."

 

Frank stared blankly at the now-empty doorway, then his half-eaten bowl of oatmeal and resisted the primary urge to dash it against the wall.  Damn that woman for making him feel guilty!  And damn Laverne for putting a wedge between himself and his wife!  It was her daughter with her fresh mouth that was making everything harder than it had to be. Why couldn't she just...

 

Do what?  Not marry Lenny?  Josephine's father had ordered Frank himself not to marry Josephine, but he'd been so head-over-heels for the woman that he'd defied the man and taken her home.  There had been a vendetta called out on his head for an entire year before the two families had made peace.

 

Frank rubbed his aching temples.  Could his daughter be right - had nothing happened between her and Lenny at the Royal Cactus?  Could she see something in the Polish boy that Frank was incapable of knowing? 

 

A knock disturbed his thoughts.  Just what he wanted - visitors.  He stomped over to the doorway and prepared a blistering earful for the person standing out in the desert. 

 

He froze as Ivor Kosnowski filled his doorway.

 

"Hey, Frank," said the tall blond.  "Got a minute?"

 

***

 

Carmine Ragusa studied the nude woman lying in his arms and marveled at his dumb luck.  Hand brushing along the ivory curve of his wife's hip, he ignored the hour and the heated throb of his arm, drawing him back into the past....

 

He'd been clinging to the phone when Squiggy had answered it.

 

"H'Lo?"

 

"Squig?" he tried to keep the croak out of his voice.  

 

"The Big Raccoon?  Whatt're you calling me for?"

 

Carmine winced at Sqiggy's harsh tone.  "You got a minute to talk I..." he winced as fire raced up his arm.  "I need help."

 

"Oh, the great Big Bragoo needs help from me?" He could almost hear Squiggy licking his lips.  "If I only had a camera."

 

"SQUIGGY," Carmine's sharp tone made the line crackle.  "I need you to listen.  This is serious."

 

To his amazement, the little guy didn't hang up on him.  Even his tone of voice changed.  "Whattya need?"

 

"A hundred twenty bucks," Carmine said.  "They're for the tuxes I said I was bringing for the groomsmen.  My boss screwed me over on our deal and my...." he came up with another lie perhaps too easily.  "my check don't come in 'til after I gotta take off for California."

 

A long pause.  Bless Squiggy - he was so used to dealing with con men that he didn't ask questions.  "I can send it Western Union tomorrow morning."

 

A big weight lifted off of Carmine's heart.  "Thanks.  Thanks so much, man..."  A wave of dizziness swept over him and he rocked forward against the pay phone.

 

"No problem.  Hey, Rags?  Is there something else wrong?"

 

Carmine forced himself to focus on Squiggy's words.  "Nah - nothing's wrong.  I'm a box of fluffy duckies..." BANG!  He whirled around to see a green-cloaked paramedic knocking on the glass booth, looking at him with great concern.  He flashed the man a megawatt Ragusa smile.  "I gotta go, Squig.  Tell Shirl - tell her I love her, okay?  Tell her I tried to call and her phone was dead."  Saying 'dead' gave him an eerily calm feeling.  "I'm doing it all for her."  The phone fell out of his hand and he stared at it in detached fascination.

 

"Carmine?  Yo...Carmine?"  The receiver told him, but Carmine didn't have the energy or will to pick it up again.  The phone kept calling his name as he opened the door of the booth and walked toward the green-cloaked figure and his judgment.

 

"Sir?  Are you okay?"

 

He opened his mouth to say something, but instead slumped forward into the paramedic's arm in a faint.

 

***

 

Why're you thinking about it? Carmine asked himself.  It was all in the distant past now.

 

You're lucky, he reminded himself.  All in all, you're pretty damn lucky.  And he was.  The bullet had passed through his arm and had done minor damage to tendons and muscles, but with physical therapy - paid for by Guido Deltoro - he would be back to shape in six months.  Anthony had been touch-and-go for a few weeks,  but his abdominal wound had proven to be only serious, not fatal, and he'd managed to make the planned train trip with his Grandmother to California after four weeks in the hospital.  The DeFazios had flocked around them and declared him a hero for saving Anthony's life, showering him with food and compensation for his job he had lost at the Carnegie Deli thanks to his injury.  Laverne had been hysterical, angry and grateful all at once; only lack of cash had prevented her from flying up to watch over them.  In fact, everyone in Laurel Vista had chipped in so that Shirley could fly to his side.  Their reunion had been passionately enacted in his hospital bed and the bare floor of their apartment, the exterior of which neither of them saw for the entirety of their four week stay.  They were closer than ever now, so many confessions had come pouring forth in that short time.  He explained away his distraction as a preoccupation with his work; and they washed away the agonies of their separation - as if they could bear being separated one second longer.   She confessed to him that she'd feared he was attracted to another woman. 

 

As if he'd ever consider that, he chastised her fondly, stroking he side and brushing against her breast.  He'd proven to her many times over the last three weeks with every trick he could think up that he hadn't touched another woman in five months.

 

You're lucky, he chanted to himself.  You're free.  He didn't even owe anything to Guido, who had declared that he and Anthony were of no use to him as couriers now that their faces had been splashed across the front of the Times - Shirley had a copy of the article trumpeting his heroic deed in her wallet, he remembered.  Guido was the only one who hadn't been totally pleased with his new fame; as few ties between his drug ring and a couple of goody-goody heroes, the better, he'd said - but had not hesitated to pay both men's hospital bills.  Anthony had been devastated to be out of the loop, but Carmine resisted articulating his relief.  Guido's 'payoff' had gotten him what he wanted - money for a sofa and kitchen set for Shirley, which he planned on surprising her with as soon as they got to New York.  Even the cops had informed Carmine that Vince and 'Oil Slick' were known thugs and that he'd wiped out a great menace to society.  The deaths had been ruled 'self defense'.

 

But then he learned that 'Oil Slick' had a name - Tony - and that he had three kids and a wife back on Mulberry Street.  Suddenly, all of his kill-or-be-killed justification had a face.  A human face.

 

Carmine shuddered.  He had been to confession twice and still the filth of his deeds hung over his head, condemning him as a murderer, a criminal, a fool.  The last part hurt the most - he, who had broken more legs and run more errands for small-time hoods than he cared to confess had shut his eyes against evidence of the deadliest deal he'd ever been part of.  It had led to two deaths, nearly four.  He looked at the woman sleeping in his arms; the woman who thought he was an angel.  He had done so much in his life before marrying her - much of it he had kept from Shirley's ears - but never this ultimate sin.  It was one that he would never repeat; as tough as he thought he was,  he couldn't fathom ever killing another man again. 

 

But the worst part were the dreams.  Every time he closed his eyes, he replayed the deaths, the fear, the horror - the nightmare of nearly dying.  For the first time in his life, he felt cornered, ashamed.

 

He felt Shirley stir beside him.  "Are you cold?" she murmured.

 

Forcing himself to smile, Carmine nodded.  "I ain't used to hotel blankets," he confessed, drawing the hastily kicked-off sheets over their bodies.

 

"What time is it?" she murmured.

 

Carmine checked his watch." Almost seven-thirty," he said.

 

She immediately began to push back the blankets.  "We're late!" she yelped.

 

"Hey - why don't we stay here a little longer?"

 

Shirley gave him a glance of amusement.  "Laverne is probably still in bed."

 

"So?"

 

"And..." He sat up and nibbled the back of her neck, derailing her thought process.  "I have to check on sooo..oh..."

 

He turned her toward him.  "It can wait about fifteen minutes."

 

She wrapped her arms around his neck.  "Only fifteen minutes?  You're slacking off, Mister Ragusa."

 

"I can try for twenty," he teased her. 

 

"Darling, isn't sixty-minute man in your repertoire?" she asked, trailing her fingers down his torso.

 

"I can't sing Earnest Tubbs...Oh..." she took hold of his cock and gave it a firm stroke.  "Oh!  Oh."

 

Neither of them said another word for sixty minutes.

 

***

 

Emmaline Kosnowski came back to life quite abruptly and immediately sat up in her strange bed.

 

Too soon - her head throbbed and she fell back to the pillows.   Cautiously, she opened both eyes again and looked at the man in bed beside her.  A shock raced through her.

 

"Fonzie?" she murmured.

 

"Ayyy," was the response, muffled by his own forearm.  Emmaline rolled onto her back and looked up at the ceiling, trying to remember the past few hours.

 

There had been the bachelorette party - lots of beer - wet tee-shirts - planks - being too drunk to drive back to Laurel Vista - Laverne calling Fonzie and asking him to bring her home - him being drunk from Lenny's bachelor party - so they both took the bus back to his hotel....

 

But she didn't remember - oh, of all things to forget.

 

"Did we..." he asked.

 

She peeked under the covers.  "Yes, we did.  But thank you for using protection."

 

He winced.  "Excuse the Fonz," he said, and with all of the confidence and dignity in his usual being, he strolled off to the bathroom with a limp and bright green prophylactic on his member.

 

Emmaline wasted no time in finding her bra and panties under the covers and donning them, then reaching down for her green speckled housedress and tossing it on.  She glanced in the desk mirror - her hair was a nest and her makeup was smudged, but she could fix that back at her place.  When he returned, he was wearing his usual jeans and tee-shirt combination, running a comb through his hair.

 

"Ey, you can borrow Danny's toothbrush."

 

She smiled wanly.  "Thank you, but I'll take my morning constitutional back at Laurel Vista."

 

He winced.  "I gotta go with you," he said.  "Danny and Mikey're with Rhonda back at your place."

 

"All right," with as much dignity as she could muster, she donned her black heels and stood.  She swayed and wasn't surprised to feel two strong arms helping her back to her feet.  She managed a flirtatious smile.  "Thank you."

 

"You're a fine lady," Fonzie declared, donning his jacket.  "And a classy one."

 

Emmaline's hackles raised.  "Yes, I suppose all fine women go on drunken one-night stands with strangers."

 

"Ey!  We ain't strangers.  When I was a kid, I used to watch you come walking up the street in those tight sweaters..." He struggled for something classier to say.  "You're a great mom, too."

 

"Thank you, Arthur," she said brittley.  She got herself out of his grasp and grabbed her pocketbook from the floor.

 

He snapped his fingers.  "Save me a dance."

 

"Excuse me?"

 

"Save me a dance at the reception," he said.

 

"Is there a 'please' somewhere in there?"

 

He stared at her as if she were a Martian.

 

"Arthur," she said coolly, "not every woman will fall right into your arms the second you snap your fingers.  Surely you know that."

 

"Yeah," he grunted.  "But most of 'em do."

 

She looked back at the messy bed.  "I'd be impressed if you'd snap your fingers and make the bed."

 

"The Fonz's powers have limits," he smiled, then with his own two hands put the bed together.  Gil had never made a bed for her in the ten years they'd been married...

 

"Good work," she said lightly. 

 

"No problem," he said, donning his leather jacket. 

 

Awkwardly, they walked toward the door.  "You ever been on the back of a chopper before?" he asked.

 

"No.  You don't mean we're going there on your bike."

 

"Just make sure you don't get no moths in your flip, you'll do great."

 

Discouraged and encouraged all at once, Emmy followed Fonzie out the door.

 

***

 

By the time she emerged from her bedroom, Laverne's living room was a cacophonous circus.  Grandma and Lenny's Gagga were vociferously arguing by the stove as they covered massive dishes of food with foil and stacked them in coolers filled with oven-warmed bricks; Terri marched from the counter to the front door as she toted the four coolers one by one out of the apartment and downstairs to the ice cream truck.  Anthony sat propped up like an anemic child on the sofa, a blanket around his feet as he shoveled a huge bowl of cereal into his mouth; Rhonda, Mikey and Danny sat at the kitchen table, making the last of the reception favors by tying big bundles of Sees Lollipops together with ribbon.

 

"Hey, Laverne," Terri grunted casually, hefting the cooler onto a shoulder as she exited the apartment for the last time.  Those words seemed to be a cue; suddenly she was surrounded by cool-handed matrons who insisted her looked tired, that Anthony should get up and let her sit, she needed a cooling drink, that cereal was no meal for a bride...

 

The words made a dizzying chatter, and Laverne held out supplicating palms.  "I want a big glass of OJ, a cinnamon roll and a couple pieces of bacon."

 

Grandma DeFazio rested a palm to her chest.  "Too much grease!  You'll get a pimple!"

 

Laverne smiled fondly.  "That's an old wife’s tale."

 

"Don't sass your Grandma," Adrielle said pointedly.  "Brides need to remember the tales of old wives - most of them are true!"

 

"Not all of 'em," she shrugged, watching her grandmother hustle around the stove she added,  "you told me when I was six that babies are born in cabbage patches."

 

"Grandma's right about that," Anthony said solemnly.

 

"She is not!"

 

"She is too!  That's where my Pop said he got me."

 

"Wanna try a broccoli patch?"

 

Her grandmother gave her a backhand to the head and a glass of juice.  Pouting, Laverne drank it in silence and then was presented with a plate of toast.

 

"I wanted a cinnamon roll," she pouted.

 

"You'll have to get it out of Mikey's stomach, he at the last one hours ago," said Adrielle.

 

"I was bored," Mikey shrugged.

 

"Thanks," Laverne grumbled, eating the butter-soaked toast.  It didn't taste too bad, she decided - actually, maybe it was better that everything wasn't so sweet, she might gag as nervous as she was....she glared at Anthony, who was wearing his customary red-checkered shirt and jeans.  "Ain't you got a monkey suit to put on?"

 

He pouted.  "The kids ain't got THEIRS on yet."

 

"Because Fonz-dad's coming to get me- my suit's back at the motel," Danny piped  up.

 

"And mine's back at our place.  Uncle Hector said he'd help me do up my bow tie."

 

Laverne winced.  "Make sure that's all Uncle Hector teaches you to do.  You don't got an excuse, Anthony.  Why don't you go over to Adam's place and take a shower?"

 

Anthony squirmed.  "That West guy creeps me out," he said, standing up and heading to the door.  "Whenever I see him he's wearing that cape and all week he made me call him 'the bat.'"

 

Laverne frowned.  "That man just ain't right," she sighed.  Then she elbowed Anthony off the sofa.  "Go dress!"

 

"The bambina's right," said Grandma DeFazio, wiping her hands on Shirley's apron as she untied it and put it over on the counter. 

 

"Aww, have a little pity," Anthony whined.  "My ribs still hurt."

 

Laverne snorted.  "Not enough to stop you from eating a whole plate of lasagna last night!"

 

"All right!   Geez!"  Anthony complained, leaving the room.

 

Rhonda chuckled from her place at the table.  "Your Anthony is certainly young at heart."

 

"You mean he's a big baby," Laverne retorted; at that point her manners finally kicked in.  "Are you okay?"

 

Rhonda sighed.  "Rhonda's fine - the same as Rhonda was the day before and the day before that..." she tied a large bow with great flourish in the last baggie of rice.  "Rhonda know you mean well."

 

"It's okay," Laverne comforted.  "I wonder where Shirl is - it's almost eight..."

 

At that point, her best friend materialized, bridesmaids dresses carried over her arm and a suit-wearing Carmine in tow.  "I'm so sorry I'm late!" she ran over and hugged Laverne, which set off a round of joyful squealing.  Carmine rushed over to Laverne's grandmother and hugged her, then acknowledged the boys.  "Why aren't they dressed?"

 

"We're waiting for the cavalry," Laverne said.  "Fonzie and Emmy are no-shows at the moment."

 

"You don't suppose they..."

 

Laverne wiggled her brows.  "Another victim of Walk The Plank Night goes down with the ship."

 

"Not in front of the children," she requested.

 

"Come along, boys," said Rhonda said.  "We'll take these down to the truck together," she said, holding two shopping bags worth of rice and favors.

 

Mikey shook his head disgustedly as he gathered up a couple more bundles of rice and lollipops.  "My Uncle Lenny's right - dames just don't know how to do stuff!"

 

"MIKEY," Laverne said sharply; much like his uncle, he made himself smaller as he left the room.

 

"All right - Carmine's supposed to drive the food and favors to the reception site, then swing by to pick up the boys and Hector and drop them at the church, then get us at the beauty parlor and do the same thing."

 

"Why can't we all go together?"

 

"Because the bride can't see the groom!" everyone on the apartment said together.

 

Laverne rolled her eyes.  She'd meant to have an untraditional wedding, and people were sure having a good time imposing ritual on it!

 

"Come on - we have a strict schedule to uphold!" Shirley said primly.

 

Laverne pulled her hand out of Shirley's.  "I wanna look at my flowers first!"

 

Shirley clutched her temple.  "The flowers!  Carmine, can you take the flowers to the church?"

 

"Huh?" he had been staring into thin air.  "Oh, okay."

 

Anthony jogged downstairs; his pants had been tucked haphazardly into his shirt.  "Any of you know how to do a bow tie?"

 

Laverne shoved Anthony toward Terri Buttafuco as she re-entered the apartment.  "Ask her."

 

"Ask me what?" Terri rubbed her sweaty hands upon her slacks.  "Don't ask me to touch nothing fancy - I'm all sweaty from my jog."

 

"Can you tie his tie?" Laverne asked, wiping her mouth.  "I ain't good at knots, and

no one knows a sheep shank like you!"

 

Terri shrugged and turned toward Anthony, who squinted at her as she started to loop the fabric.  "Hey -did you used to be a man?  'Cause it don't look like the doc got all of your Adam’s ap -agghck!"

 

Terri's grip on Anthony's tie was a near death lock.  "I'm always a lady."  The choking noise he made a second later proved both alarming but deserved.

 

Carmine had been pulling plastic containers containing ice and flowers from the refrigerator, and  Laverne  strode over to the counter and peek into each of them.  The bouquets were beautiful, but the last container, which held all of the boutonnières and the flowers they were going to stick in Laverne's hair, contained nothing but a pile of soggy, brown, wilted carnations.

 

Shirley's agonized shriek brought Laverne's Grandmother to attention.

 

"What is it?  What happened, bambina?"

 

Shirley pointed incoherently at the cooler.  On some level she knew she was being juvenile,  but she could do no more than point and gasp.  The bride's reaction was far less extreme.  "The flowers're dead," Laverne said, dumping out the container into the garbage.

 

"Ruined!" Shirley cried.  "What are we going to put in your hair?"

 

Laverne shrugged, pushing aside the minor disappointment.  "They ain't important.  We still got bouquets."

 

"But..but they look like they were MURDERED," she said, eyeing the garbage with a look of great dismay.  She didn't see Carmine turn pale with her choice of words.

 

"We'll figure something out," Laverne said.  "Come on, Grandma, we gotta get to the salon - Carmine, can you watch Anthony and the boys?"

 

Carmine snorted, "yeah."

 

"I don't need no one to watch me - gak!" Anthony's protests were cut off by Terri's final tug as the bow tie came into place. 

 

"Let's go, Ter," Laverne said, dragging her upset best friend and livid Terri out the door before she could think about what those dead flowers might really mean...

 

***

 

"DAMN!" Lenny slammed down the phone.  The past hour had been spent trying to call his father's hotel, only to be met with a busy signal whenever his room was buzzed. 

 

"It's good news?" Squiggy asked, only to be met with the angriest of glares.  Squiggy slumped down in his seat to get out of the range of Lenny's gaze, thinking as hard as he possibly could. 

 

"We could call a locksmith!"

 

"Nah, it's Friday, they only come out for emergencies!" Squiggy said.

 

"THIS AIN'T AN EMERGENCY?"

 

Squiggy shrugged.  "You got the cash?"

 

"DO I GOT THE CASH?!"  Lenny looked ready to kill him again, so Squiggy quickly came up with a better solution.

 

"ADAM WEST!"

 

"Huh?"

 

"Adam West - he was a magician as a kid.  Maybe he can help."  Lenny whined.  "Stop whining!  It's worth a shot!"

 

"I dunno - maybe it's all a sign.  It means I'm gonna be alone for the rest of my life!"  Lenny whined.

 

"Stop whining!"

 

"I ain't whining!"

 

The two men hustled out of the apartment and bumped straight into Laverne, Shirley, Terri as the exited Laverne's apartment.

 

Shirley hustled Laverne behind her before Lenny could see his bride, then reached across the way and covered Lenny's eyes  "Boys."

 

Squiggy hid his cuff-clad wrist behind Lenny's back.  "Ladies," he said.

 

Shirley went to great lengths to keep her hand over Lenny's eyes as they passed each other, only pulling her hand away when they were forced to turn and head down a stairwell.  Rhonda and Squiggy eyed one another silently before parting ways.

 

Once the coast was clear, Lenny turned and flung himself at the door of West's apartment, hammering his fist against the heavy wood.  After fifteen seconds the door flew open, revealing a man in a black cowl standing erect at the doormat.

 

"Good Citizens of Laurel Vista!" West bellowed.  "Are you in need of the assistance of The Bat?"

 

For once, Lenny and Squiggy were left speechless.  "Uh, as a matter of fact my good man," Squiggy held up his and Lenny's shackled wrists.

 

West grabbed the boys by their manacles and pulled them into his apartment.  Lenny was momentarily frightened by the incredible blackness of the room before he recognized a bat-shaped bed and a bat-shaped coffee table.  West studied the wrist shackle with intense fascination.

 

"It appears to be some sort of restraining device - used for restraint!" he said.

 

"They're handcuffs," Squiggy explained, relieved that for once he felt like the smartest man in the room.

 

"I see..." West said, staring at the manacles.  "I have the solution!" he trumpeted, rushing off to a small closet by the door.  After a bit of rummaging he surfaced with a hacksaw.

 

"NO!" Lenny said, trying to scramble behind Squiggy and only succeeding in nearly yanking his arm off. 

 

"What troubles you, citizen?" West took in the expression on Lenny's face and came to a quick conclusion.  "I won't saw your arm off.  I was going to cut open the cuffs!"

 

"Oh..." Lenny tried to look cool and composed as West came closer to them with the instrument, it's silvery light reflecting off his uniform.

 

West looked up.  "You both need to sit down for this to work."

 

The boys scrambled into two bat-shaped chairs as West brought the saw down on the chain temporarily connecting them...

 

"Bat-saw!  CUT!" he yelled as he brought the tool down against the metal.

 

***

 

Frank stood perfectly still in the doorway.  "What'ya want?"

 

Ivor smiled; he looked so much like Lenny that a chill ran through Frank.  "We gotta talk, Frank."

 

"Why?"

 

"We need an excuse?  Our kids are getting married today."

 

Frank's jaw locked as he bit back unkind words about Lenny.  "I wasn't invited."

 

Ivor's features rumpled slightly.  "And they got a reason not to ask you to come.  I dunno what you think my kid did..."

 

"It ain't what he did - it's what he does.  He don't got no respect for my daughter."

 

"Yeah? Wasn't it my son that proposed to Laverne when she thought she was knocked up?"

 

The veins in Frank's hand bulged as he squeezed it shut.  "And ain't it Lenny who used to go through my daughter's underwear drawer every Saturday 'til she put mouse traps in it?"

 

Ivor's jaw turned to granite, too - but in time he smiled.  "I know Lenny ain't perfect - but neither is Laverne.  That's why they belong together."  Frank glared and looked away.  "Do you wish Laverne was marrying someone like Moose Crenshaw or Jake The Snake?"

 

Frank shook his head.  "She should be marrying a man who can take care of her."

 

"Lenny can, in all the ways that matter.  But when it comes to money, anyone can tell that Laverne don't wanna be taken care of."

 

He said nothing.

 

Ivor's shoulders sank.  "You were always stubborn, DeFazio.   That's what got you through France.  I remember," Ivor said, as he backtracked toward the front door, "being pinned down in the Cathedral de Sainte Leonard with enemy fire coming in all around us.  I said 'DeFazio, if we get out of this, I'm gonna name my first son Leonard.'  Remember what you said?"

 

"Yeah.  'And if I get out of here, I'm naming my first daughter after LaVerne Andrews."

 

Ivor smiled.  "Lenny's not a bad kid.  He ain't bright, but he's sweet.  You're putting your girl in fine hands, and I'm putting my boy in better ones."

 

Frank shrugged and grunted noncommittally.

 

Ivor gave up with a shift of his shoulders.  "I gotta take off.  They need me for pictures in an hour.  Nice catching up with you"

 

Ivor had nearly made it to his rental car when Frank peered out the front door.  "Wait a minute," Frank requested.  Ivor stood patiently by the opened door of his Pinto, and watched as Frank emerged and headed down, holding a large manila envelope.

 

"Give this to the kids at the reception," he requested.  "It's something I owe Laverne."

 

"You can still come with me."

 

"Like I said," Frank smiled bitter sweetly.  "I ain't invited.  Take care, Ivor."

 

"See you, Frank."

 

***

 

Carmine grunted as he felt a sudden pain in the middle of his back.  Straightening up carefully, he surveyed the reception site and felt a shock of pride at Shirley's handiwork.

 

He stood at the center of what had once been a barren concrete pavilion, which was now decorated in a seaside theme.  The four tables they'd salvaged from storage looked almost regal in her hand-sewn tablecloths, the seashell-and-candle centerpieces lovely and adding a tender touch.  Folding chairs had been covered with excess material to mask their true origins, and china plates sat out on the table with the still-boxed food.  The bandstand was ready, with live mikes picking up the wail of the sea.  A tent shrouded him from the mid-day sun.  Despite all of Shirley's work, he had to smirk; Lenny and Laverne could have given a quarter of a damn about the reception as long as there was food and music, they were so focused on getting to Catalina - or wherever Squiggy insisted he was going to send them - and consummating their romance.

 

Carmine knew the feeling well, so he hadn't begrudged them their goo-goo eyes at the rehearsal dinner, or Lenny 'accidentally' dropping his napkin under the table a million times to be followed by Laverne's surprised but pleased shriek.  Shirley had been so embarrassed for them, but she had no right to talk after her hand drifted into his lap for the millionth time.

 

"Hey," said Anthony as he came up from behind Carmine, "everything's set - the wiring on the Christmas lights looks good."

 

Carmine kept his eyes on the pounding ocean.  "Thanks."

 

"I gotta give Shirley credit - she planned this whole thing on a couple hundred bucks and it looks like it could be in Better Homes And Garden."

 

"Tell her that," Carmine smirked.  "She'll be so happy she'll kiss you."  He ignored Anthony's happy smile at that suggestion.

 

A long silence passed.  "Are you okay, Carmine?"

 

His shoulders stiffened.  "I'm fine."

 

"You sure?  I mean, you got hurt pretty bad and it was kind of my fault and..."

 

Carmine was reminded for a split-second of Lenny and Squiggy's eager apologies.  "I'm okay, honestly."

 

"But..."

 

"I don't want to talk about it, Anthony," he said, whirling around with a businesslike expression on his face.  The younger man shrunk back a little.

 

"Okay," Anthony said.  "I'll go warm up the truck," he mumbled, walking away.

 

Guiltily, Carmine kicked a rock.  Damnit, when was he ever going to be able to relax?   It was over!

 

It'll never be over.  No matter what the law says, you killed two men.

 

He shut up the guilty voices by  hurrying out to the van, the roar of the engine and the list of instructions in his mind temporarily erasing the bitter reality of his New York experience.

 

***

 

Emmaline stepped through the front door of Leo's Doughnuts on the heels of Fonzie, nearly bumping into him.

 

"Hey, Fonzie!" said the pink-shirted proprietor. 

 

"You know him?" she asked in disbelief.  Fonzie had only been in town for three days and it seemed everyone did.

 

"I had coffee here a couple of days ago.  Yanno Bobby has a little boy named Mark?"  Fonzie easily strode up to and straddled a counter side bench - Emmy daintily followed but sat at a much more cautious way.

 

Emmy had lived here for the entire summer and had been there for doughnuts more than once but didn't know the proprietor from Adam.  She shrugged, but managed a sweet smile as he poured her a cup of coffee.  She added a little cream and sugar and sipped - just right.   Fonzie took it black.  "Can I have a lemon filled?" she asked.

 

Bobby nodded.  "Your usual?" he asked Fonzie.

 

"Make it two chocolate-raised this time," said Fonzie.  After he gave them their doughnuts, Bobby left them discreetly alone, and Emmaline turned to Fonzie. 

 

"You're amazing!"

 

"Tell the Fonz something he don't know," he cracked.

 

"Not in the conventional sense of 'Fonzie is amazing, he makes the sun shine and the birds sing'.  I mean you have an amazing memory."

 

"I collect facts.  Keeps my nose clean," he took a bite of his doughnut. 

 

She glanced at the clock.  "We've gotta speed this up - I gotta be at the salon by nine."

 

"How did you and DeFazio make up?  Last time I heard from her, you guys were fighting."

 

"You talk to Laverne."

 

"Every couple of months."

 

"You aren't considering standing up when the minister asks for objections, are you?"  a tone of warning entered her voice.

 

"Me and DeFazio had our time, but she's in love.  You ever try to get between her and something she wants?  I still got the scars!"

 

Emmaline self-consciously touched her cheek and remembered Laverne's punch.  "Yeah.  Anyway, on her birthday we got stuck in the laundry room together.  She was absolutely peeved..."

 

The two women glared at each other across the space.

 

"What did you to to the door, DeFazio?"

 

"Nothing," Laverne snarled.  "What did YOU do to the door?"

 

"It gets stuck without the doorstop."

 

"Doorstop - wasn't that your name in high school?"

 

Emmy was within five inches of slapping Laverne before she forced herself to back off.  Both women looked at anything but each other as they tired to find entertainment.

 

They stared each other down.  "What are you looking at?"

 

"What are YOU looking at?"

 

Emmaline bit back the suggestion A tramp and opened her purse to take out a pack of playing cards.  "Do you know Gin?"

 

Laverne stared at her.  "You want to play cards?"

 

"You got something better to do?"

 

Laverne shrugged.  "What do you play?"

 

"How about hearts?"

 

"Hearts?  How about poker?"

 

"How about 'Old Maid'?"

 

Laverne snarled and Emmy sighed.  "All right - hearts."  As she dealt out the cards over the washer, she said, "I wish you would understand why we argue this way."

 

"Why?  It's simple - you think I'm a bimbo and I think you're a bitch."

 

The bitter words must have given the girl great satisfaction, because they made her olive skin turn red with delight.  "No," Emmy sighed.  "I don't really think you're a bimbo - even though your reputation supercedes you."  Laverne glared at her over the deck as she delt her a hand.  "I think you've been indelicate with Lenny's heart."  Laverne snorted.   "Lenny is a very sensitive boy.  I can't tell you how many afternoons he spent crying on my shoulder because you wouldn't look at him."

 

Laverne squirmed. "I didn't think of Lenny that way back then.  And he, smarty-pants, didn't exactly treat me like Cleopatra."

 

Emmaline ignored Laverne's jab.  "Why do you think of him that way now?"

 

"I dunno - I mean, I guess I've always liked him a little...But when he kissed me in February it gave me goosebumps.  He kissed me that time and it was like everything changed."

 

"'Everything changed'?  One little kiss can't change the world, Laverne."

 

"But it did for us!  I guess I just always tried to push him away.  I never LET him kiss me before that day.   Emmy, it's real - everything I got for him is real - I just don't know why it happened."

 

"I wish I could believe that, but I'm having an awful hard time accepting anything related to love at face value."

 

"That's it, yanno.  You're being mean to me and Len 'cause you don't want him to get hurt like Gil hurt you."

 

Emmaline felt the pinprick of anxiety wash over her.  "I suppose that's partially my reason.  Divorce is hell, Laverne - especially if you have children.  I don't want Lenny to settle down and have children only to be uprooted."

 

She crossed her arms protectively across her chest.  "Who says me and Len are gonna have kids?"

 

"You forget how well I know you - and how many days you spent nursing that rag doll of yours on the sidewalk outside our building."  Laverne blushed at the old memory, but Emmaline smiled.  "I think you have the potential to be a good mother, but Lenny's a child himself in so many ways."

 

"That's where you're wrong, Em.  Lenny does all of the business stuff for Squignowski - he's a grown-up when he needs to be one."

 

"You're fooling yourself if you think he's a good businessman," Emmaline retorted.  

 

She nimbly side-stepped the obvious about Lenny and Squiggy's partnerships.  "That don't got nothing to do with what kind of dad he'll be.  He takes good care of Mikey whenever you leave them alone together - just like he's doing right now."  

 

Emmaline winced and saw the truth in Laverne's statement.  "It's hard for me to see him as an adult," she admitted..  "When I look at Lenny, I see a little boy lying in a hospital bed crying for our mom.  I had to rock him to sleep in my arms every night until he was ten because we were alone and he was afraid my dad would leave us without warning."

 

Laverne's shoulders softened slightly.  "He's twenty-nine years old, Em."

 

"I know how old he is.  And I know how old I am," she stared at the cards before her - a queen and an ace and a jack lined up with two knaves.  "I want to let go, but it's hard."

 

"I know how you gotta feel, Em.  I mean - I guess watching us together must be weird, 'cause of how we used to be..."

 

"It's not 'weird', it's confusing."

 

"All I can say is that I'm gonna take care of him the same way you did - and that he's gonna take care of me.  I ain't gonna leave him and he ain't gonna leave me. "  She resisted peering into the abyss of possible separation - so did Emmaline.

 

Emmy took a deep breath.  "Laverne, all I want is for him to be happy."

 

"I make him happy.  He makes me happy, too."

 

"I wish life was as simple as you've made it," she said quietly.  

 

"We're gonna be different, Emmaline - the whole world's gonna change soon, and we'll be right there, hand in hand, ready to take it on."

 

"I admire your bravery.  And I suppose you don't need my blessing, but I'll give it.  I'm sorry I tried to make Lenny choose between us."  She looked up at the ceiling.  "Do you think he'll accept my apology?"

 

"He'd love that.  I don't think he wants to fight with you any more than you want to fight with him.  And I'm sorry for calling you a bimbo and  - stuff..."

 

"Let's just say we're sorry for everything that happened this summer and start fresh."

 

They stared at their cards for a moment, then Emmaline put down her hand.  "Full house."

 

"Story of my life," Laverne responded.  "You wanna watch the underwear spin in the dryer?"

 

"God, no - not all Kosnowskis are the same."

 

"You're all good people," Laverne said lightly.  

 

In response, Emmaline clicked open her purse and rummaged beneath her final pay stubs from Lou's and came up with a half-full bottle of Shotz.  "Want some?"

 

"Is it warm?" she asked.

 

"We're stuck in a basement with no food in the middle of a thunderstorm and you're complaining about warm beer?"

 

Laverne tentatively reached out and took the bottle, then drained half of it.  "Ugh, it's skunky," she complained, thrusting it back at Emmaline.

 

"Who cares, as long as it makes time go by faster?"

 

Laverne eyed the bottle.  "Save some for me!" she requested.

 

***

 

"...Three hours later, my father came to get us out of the basement, and by then we were very happy with one another."

 

Fonzie grinned.  "You know how to tell a story, Kosnowski."

 

"It's my gift," Emmy put down her cup of coffee.  "All right - let's go - they're gonna need extra time to get all of the bugs out of my hair."

 

They shared a look of better understanding as they left.

 

***

 

Laverne forced herself to relax as the woman waiting on her ran a comb through her shoulder-length red hair.    The Beautiful You's small staff of five women lavished an extreme amount of attention on her bridesmaids, but Laverne hated to be fussed over.  After what seemed like eons of combing and curling, the little dark-eyed girl who'd been tending to her stepped back.  "All right, Miss DeFazio - how does that look?"

 

Her chair rose with several quick pumps of the woman's foot, and Laverne held her breath as she came back into view.

 

For a second, she didn't recognize the girl in the mirror, the one wearing her face and long, smoothly-combed locks.  Her eyebrows had been carefully manicured, and she wore just enough eye shadow, eyeliner and lipstick to give her appearance an exotic, smoky edge.  She looked elegant, nearly mysterious - not a virginal October bride who hadn't started shaving above the knee until 1959.  A giggle bubbled up from deep inside of her and when it exited her mouth it rang around the small shop.

 

She saw Shirley trying to peer at her through a curtain of hair as she wiggled her freshly-polished nails.  "Did you just giggle?"

 

Laverne hated giggling - it made her sound like an idiot.  But she did it again.

 

Her best friend smirked.  "You must be suffering from nerves."

 

"It ain't suffering.  I feel like I could fly right outta here."

 

"How does she look?" Shirley asked; her hair had been brushed forward and was being carefully trimmed by a redhead with pink highlights running down the meridian of her head. 

 

"Like Tina Louise," Rhonda praised from her position at the opposite end of the shop as her nails were dried with a small air blower.  Her hair had just begun to come back in and it was baby-fine on her head, like the flocking on a Ken doll, so there was little the shopgirls could do for her.  Instead they concentrated on giving her false eyelashes and dramatic makeup that nearly rivaled the bride's.

 

"Or The Fabulous Moolah!" added Terri as her blonde hair was given a last tossing with a fine comb.

 

The shop's bell jangled as Edna entered.  "Oh, honey, you look wonderful!"

 

Laverne turned her head and saw Edna admiring her in her lovely mother-of-the-bride suit, makeup and hair already perfectly in place.  "Aww, gee, Edna, you're already all done!"

 

"I couldn't go to sleep last night, so I got a head start on things," she explained with a shrug.

 

"You gotta get one of those pedicures," Laverne encouraged.  "Look, my toes're all sparkly," she pointed down to her drying tootsies, which sported matching red polish that would be hidden by the hem of her gown.

 

"I don't know why you bothered with that," Shirley scolded.  "Who's going to see them?"

 

Laverne grinned.  "Someone tall, blond and clumsy when I put 'em up on on his shoulder tonight."

 

Laughter filled the room. "If all Lenny notices are your toes," Rhonda said, "you're doing something wrong."

 

"Miss DeFazio, I think your polish is set," said her hairdresser - Dotty.  She bent and took out the foam rubber holding her toes apart. 

 

"Thanks," she smiled.  "Boy, Shirl, you look swell!"

 

Shirley's hair had been brushed back into the pixie fashion she'd sported back in Milwaukee - entirely opposing fashion but becoming on a new wife.  Shirley peered at herself briefly as her hairdresser pushed the chair to eyeline with the mirror.  She judged herself and her girlish, pale makeup with a shrug, then took a look at Laverne and instantly melted.

 

"Do I  look like a princess?"

 

"More like a countess,"  Shirley blubbered and grabbed her best friend's hand.  Shirley squeezed it.

 

"Countess?" Rhonda asked as she flexed her newly-painted fingers.

 

"Don't ask - she'll tell," Terri grumbled, as her eyes were dusted with a pale translucent powder.

 

"Let's just say Lenny's a royal - oooh..." Edna went silent as Shirley's hairdresser began to tend to her arching feet.

 

"Rhonda wants to know what's so royal about Lenny," Rhonda requested.

 

The shop's bell rang again as Emmaline stepped inside the shop beneath the roar of a departing  motorbike.  Muteness struck; everyone stared at her and her slightly-messy flip as she took an empty chair beside Rhonda.

 

"I don't want to talk about it," she said primly, picking up a copy of Confidential and flipping to its centerfold.

 

Everyone swiveled around.  "How's your hangover, Emmaline?" Edna asked. 

 

"Gone.  Fonzie got me a couple of doughnuts and some aspirin..." She slapped a palm over her mouth and moaned.

 

"You stayed the whole night with him?" Shirley gaped.

 

"We're two consenting adults without attachments," she said coldly.

 

"But you both have children!  What if they find out?"

 

Danny and Mikey had indeed bonded well over the weekend.  "They'll probably never see each other after today," she said.

 

"And it isn't their business what Fonzie and Emmy do," pointed out Edna.

 

"Miss Kosnowski," said Shirley's stylist as she vacated the chair, "I'm ready for you now."

 

As Emmy sat down in a salon chair to be groomed, she stared blearily at the woman in the mirror.

 

"What would you like?" the stylist asked.

 

"The usual; wash and cut, same style, blue shadow, blue liner, pink lips." 

 

"Are you sure?  You have such lovely bone structure - it could handle something radical and look aristocratic," her stylist suggested.

 

"I've had this style since 1956."  Her tone suggested that she'd never considered something new.

 

"You also had Gil since 1956 and you dumped him," Laverne pointed out.

 

"I agree, Emmaline," Shirley said.

 

"Yes, Emmaline, take a chance!" said Rhonda.

 

"Go for it," suggested Edna.

 

"Don't ask me," said Terri, "these're extensions."

 

Emmaline peered at the woman in the mirror one more time.  "I've always wanted to be a redhead," she suggested.

 

"Let's not think THAT radically," Shirley said.  "And don't forget - the attention should be on the bride."

 

"I don't think I want people looking at me that close, Shirl."

 

"If only we had those flowers..." Shirley muttered.

 

"What happened to the flowers?" Emmaline wondered.

 

"They're dead - at least the ones going in my hair.  Never mind, what about your hair?"

 

"Let's start with a little trim," her stylist said, bringing the scissors close to her head.

 

***

 

"Holy Handcuffs!" Adam West said as he tossed down the hacksaw.  "These chains are as impenetrable as The Riddler's sense of humor!"

 

Lenny's head hit the table.  "We can't wait anymore," he said, standing up and jerking Squiggy to his feet.  "Let's go to the church and see if my Pop's there."

 

"Wait - I gotta get my monkey suit from Carmine!"

 

"You can get dressed when we're unstuck!  Let's go!"

 

"But he's supposed to pick us up!"

 

"Do you want him to see us hooked up like we just filmed a stag reel?"

 

"I don't think he'd notice," Squiggy muttered.  Lenny was too enraged to comment on Squiggy's foreboding words.

 

Lenny was on a mission - he was by the door and dragging Squiggy behind in seconds.  "Hey Adam, can we bum a ride off of you to the church?"

 

"All right, good citizens!"  He picked up a set of keys from the table and followed them to the door.

 

"Don't you wanna change clothes?" Lenny asked, eyeing West in his Batman getup.

 

"'The Bat' can never be seen in his civilian clothing during daylight hours," he said firmly.

 

Lenny and Squiggy shared a look and shrugged.  "Let's go!"

 

"TO THE BATMOBILE!" shouted West.

 

Fifteen minutes later, Lenny and Squiggy were careening around Benedict Canyon in the backseat of the Batmobile - AKA: West's rusted '62 DeSoto.

 

"Squig, if we live through this I'm gonna kill you!" Lenny clung to the upholstery as West 'Na Na Naed' at the top of his lungs and blew through a set of red lights.

 

"Whattya mad at me for?"

 

"How many times do I got to say it?  YOU GOT US HOOKED TOGETHER ON THE MOST IMPORTANT DAY OF MY LIFE, EVER!"

 

"This is the most important day of your life?" Squiggy snorted.  "More important than the time we peeped on Genie Santangelo in the girl's room in seventh grade?  More important than the time we made it with two dancers from Bradstreet Burlesque House?  More important than when we started up Squignowski?"

 

There was a wounded little boy tone to Squiggy's voice that made Lenny really look at his friend for the first time today.  "That's what's wrong."

 

"What?"

 

"That's why you're doing all of this crazy stuff - we ain't gonna be together all the time anymore and you're scared."

 

Lenny's answer was the front seat colliding with his face as the car came to a sudden stop.

 

"We're here!" West said, jerking the car into park. 

 

Lenny rubbed his forehead as the pain ebbed, his questions were forgotten while Squiggy pulled the door open and yanked him into the sunlight.  Maybe the bruise forming on his forehead would be big enough to distract Laverne from his being handcuffed to the best man...

 

***

 

Laverne shifted uncomfortably on her seat in the vestibule of Santa Maria.  Deacons benches hadn't been made with women in mind, she grouched to herself as she slipped a leg beneath her numb buttocks. 

 

Her eyes drifted over to the ladies' room; Edna was helping Shirley, Rhonda and Terri dress -  Laverne came last, as her dress was complicated by at least a million pearl-covered snaps running down the back of the dress.  Emmaline had excused herself to pick up Mikey - or maybe she had gone to show off her new haircut to Fonzie. 

 

On a wave of laughter,  Shirley, Terri, Rhonda and Edna exited the women's room - Laverne grinned at the sight of all four women in their attractive dresses - all in shades of red and carefully designed to be similar and yet flattering to each figure.  Edna had custody of the Polaroid and took multiple pictures as each bridesmaid pirouetted for Laverne.  "Aww, you all look great!"

 

"Yes we do - even though red isn't exactly my color," Shirley pointed out.

 

"Yeah, whenever you wear red I think of Roxy LaToure!"

 

"Roxy LaToure?!  How in the world would either of you know America's greatest stripper in all of North America..."

 

"...And Egypt," Laverne and Shirley recited together, interrupting Rhonda.

 

"She blew through Milwaukee one day and we had the unpleasant chance to make her acquaintance," Shirley said.

 

"It wasn't that unpleasant, Shirl - she said I should try dancing naked."

 

"With that chin?" Rhonda blurted out.

 

"It's another very long story," Shirley explained, pulling Laverne to her feet.  "We need to get your dress on."

 

Emmaline entered the vestibule, holding something large and carefully wrapped with tissue in one hand and Mikey with her other.

 

"You look pretty, Aunt Laverne," he said automatically, then winced as Edna took a quick picture of him in his little suit.

 

"Not yet," Emmaline whispered softly.  She released the boy.  "Sit here VERY quietly while mommy gets dressed, understand?"

 

Sympathetically, Terri got down on her knees and grabbed a couple of pieces of paper from under the deacon's bench.  "Here, kid - why don't you draw?"

 

"Okay - I'll make a wedding present for Uncle Lenny," he said contentedly.

 

Emmaline smoothed her short blonde locks - which had been trimmed into a Cesar that morning.   "I'll go dress over where Lenny is..."

 

Surprising even herself, Laverne reached out a hand and took Emmy's.  "Em, can you help me dress?"

 

Slowly, a smile crossed Emmaline's face.  "Yes."

 

In the ladies room, Laverne donned the white teddy Shirley had bought her for the occasion with its matching garter belt set.  When she donned her mother's dress, reinforcements were indeed needed, for as simple as it was in design small snaps ran down her back, eventually popping up in inconvenient places she couldn't reach.  Between Shirley, Edna, Rhonda, Emmaline, and Terri it took them sixteen minutes to get the dress completely closed; then Shirley helped her fasten her mother's diamond earrings and she stepped into a pair of white pumps.

 

Who was the woman looking back at her in the bathroom mirror?  The little girl who had played 'wedding' in the hallway of her apartment building when she was six or the girl who had been Tigerlily for years and had climbed all they way up a light pole in her enthusiasm to get away from invisible pirates?  The girl who had necked in the back seat of too many police cars or the girl who had accidentally earned the 'right' to wear white?  She was all of them; and she was proud of it. 

 

"Oh, Vernie!" Shirley cried out, throwing her arms around her best friend.  Tears squeezed from between Laverne's tightly-closed eyes.  They had been denied this celebration with Shirley's marriage - now they embraced it, and for a minute no one else in the room existed.

 

Rhonda took the next hug, then Edna, and finally Terri.  The women made a ring of sisterhood around Laverne   that left her feeling secure.

 

Emmaline had turned away to clothe herself - now she sported a tasteful if matronly blue dress that made a lie of the youthful freshness of her hair cut.  "You look lovely," she remarked, but her eyes glowed.

 

Shirley wiped her eyes.  "All we're missing is something old, something new, something borrowed and something blue."

 

"Old's my dress," Laverne said, "and my mom's earrings.  New's the teddy Shirl got me...blue's my engagement ring...oh no, I'm missing borrowed!"

 

"You can borrow this, Laverne," Rhonda said, handing Laverne a small book.

 

"The complete pocket-sized Kama Sutra," Laverne read.  Curious, she flipped to a random page, then gaped at an explicit illustration.  All of her bridesmaids gathered around, gaped at the picture, and turned impressed eyes on Rhonda.

 

"Every girl should know her rabbits from her deer," Rhonda said innocently.

 

Laverne handed back the book.  "Thanks," she said, "but I got enough back luck on my side already - I don't wanna make it worse by getting married holding a dirty book."

 

"It's not dirty," Rhonda corrected.  "It's an instruction manual."

 

"I don't need these many instructions to make love," Laverne responded.

 

"Oh, All right," Rhonda said playfully.  Then she whispered, "don't try number 6 unless you stretch first."

 

"I'd like to be able to walk tomorrow morning."

 

A knock sounded at the door - Rhonda shoved the book at Shirley, who hid it beneath the folds of her dress.  Laverne's grandmother and Adrielle entered.  "Hi, Grandma!" Laverne said, a little too brightly.

 

Adrielle and Grandma DeFazio all but swooned at the sight of Laverne.  They fussed and fluffed her hair, remarked on the beauty of the dress and the glimmer of her mother's earring.  She felt uneasy beneath this suffusion of praise.  Edna took a series of pictures of the women admiring her.

 

"Do you have what you need?"

 

"Everything but something borrowed," Laverne said.

 

"I," Emmaline said, "have something you could use."  She brought forth the tissue-wrapped ring like object.  Adrielle smiled as her Granddaughter unwrapped it.  Laverne gasped softly when Emmaline held out a wreath of dried flowers, a delicate arrangement of baby's breath, tigerlilies, red carnations and roses.

 

"It was my Leah's bridal wreath," said Adrielle. 

 

"And I wore it at my wedding," Emmaline said.  "I know that ain't exactly the greatest of blessings, but..."

 

Laverne bowed her head slightly - Emmaline placed the crown on her head.  The overall effect of the outfit was fittingly gorgeous.  The thaw finally came in an embrace.  "Thank you, Em."

 

Her embrace was returned, with a small hesitation.  "You're welcome."

 

Shirley blew her nose fiercely.  "Oh my nose is running," she moaned.

 

"My mascara," Rhonda moaned.  Edna silently blotted her eyes as she took more pictures, but Terri only wore a slightly misty expression.

 

"Let's get out of here before we ruin our makeup," Grandma DeFazio ordered, and the women tromped after her.

 

When they exited the bathroom together, Mikey briefly looked up from his drawing.  "You look very pretty, Aunt Laverne," Mike said solemnly, dimpling politely and then returning to his fire truck.

 

***

 

When Lenny and Squiggy entered the Groom's chamber, they were met by a frantically pacing Carmine and a bored-looking Anthony.  "Where the hell have the two of you been?" he shouted.

 

"We hitched a ride with Adam West," Lenny explained. 

 

"Why didn't you leave me a note!  I've been trying to figure out what I was gonna tell Laverne!"

 

"Carmine, cool down," Lenny held up his linked wrist.  "We got bigger problems."

 

He stared blankly at their connected wrists - the sight of which seemed to calm him.  "I don't even wanna know how that happened."

 

"Long story.  You seen my pop?"

 

"He was taking pictures with Edna a couple of seconds ago," as if on cue, the elder Kosowski appeared. 

 

"DAD!" Lenny yelled, the same way he had done as a child.  Ivor looked down at the handcuffs and shook his head fondly.

 

"How did this happen?"

 

"It's a long story," Lenny said.  Ivor picked up the cuffs and squinted at them, studying closely.  "Can you get them off, dad?"

 

"I wish I could say - it looks like the serial number was sawed off..."

 

"But you know  how to open all kinds of cuffs, right? Right dad?"  The horrifyingly squeaky pitch of his own voice made Lenny wince.

 

"I could use a dummy key, but I'd need to know what the serial number on the cuffs were."

 

"What if you can't?"

 

"Then we call a locksmith."

 

"We tried that."

 

"Well...I suppose you could stand a G-rated evening for once in your life."

 

Lenny moaned.  "You mean I'm gonna have to go through my whole married life stuck next to Squiggy?"

 

"What's so new about that?" Carmine muttered under his breath, earning a psychopathic laugh from Anthony.

 

"Hey, it ain't no picnic being hooked up to you either, Pal!  Specially after you have a pastrami sandwich!"  Squiggy looked around for support but found none.

 

“I’ll try to pick it,” Ivor mumbled, getting on his knees and working at the cuffs.

 

The door swung open.  "Hey, Len!  When're you gonna start serving dinner?"

 

Lenny groaned. "Not until we get to the reception."

 

"You mean I gotta wait three hours to get fed?  How long's this wedding gonna take!?"

 

"Hey, if we're still stuck together when you get hitched, does that mean I got dibs on Laverne too?" Squiggy piped up.

 

“Don’t even think about it, pal,” Lenny grumbled.  He eyed Hector and realized his friend wore a loud tiger-striped tuxedo.  “Why ain’t you wearing the suit Carmine got you?”

 

“It was itchy and plain.  This is the real me.”  He watched Lenny’s father work patiently at the cuffs.  “I had a problem like that with a trick I picked up in Chicago.”

 

“What did you do?” Lenny asked.

 

“Nothing.  Turns out she spent time in Calmwood and knew how to chew through restraints.”

 

A knock at the door.  “Who is it?” Lenny asked.

 

“Ayy!”

 

“Whattya need, Fonz?” Lenny wondered.

 

“Danny’s gotta use the men’s room.”

 

“Yeah, I gotta take a whiz!”

 

“Hey, watch your manners - ladies are present!”

 

“Come in,” Lenny and Squiggy whined together.

 

Fonzie shepparded Danny into the cloister and allowed him into the sole men’s room in the chappel.  Trying to look cool - as usual - he still appeared to be confused by the handcuffs.

 

“D’you try slapping some butter on that?”

 

“BUTTER, there’s an idea...” Ivor said.

 

“My wrist’s too big to slide out,” Lenny complained.

 

“How about soaking their hands in ice water?”

 

“Won’t that make them swell?” Carmine asked.

 

“I thought cold water makes stuff shrink,” Hector threw in.

 

The door opened.  “Hey, fellas,” Bubba Wilson called, “you got enough room for me to set up a grill in here?” 

He looked at Lenny and Squiggy. 

 

“No grills,” Lenny said.

 

“What?”

 

“NO GRILLS.  DINNER AT THE RECEPTION.  MY BRAIN IS BLOWING UP!” Squiggy gave him a quick slap to jog him out of his state.

 

“Boys, I can’t fix this,” Ivor said. 

 

“What are we gonna do?”

 

“You can pray,” Ivor suggested.

 

“Pray?  Me and God ain’t had words since he made me too short for basketball!” Squiggy complained.  “Fonz - why don’t you get em off?” 

 

Fonzie shrugged - and hit the cuffs as he would a jukebox.  Both men groaned in pain, but the handcuffs didn’t budge.

 

“What in the world is going on in here?” Emmaline asked, appearing in the doorway.  Every man in the place gawked at her, except for her brother and father.

 

“DON’T ASK,” Lenny and Squiggy requested together.

 

Emmaline opened her purse, and pulled out a bobby pin. 

 

“Len, I gotta say something - you and me’ve been friends since we was nothin’ but spores in the mold sponge of life.  I know I don’t act like it, but I’m glad you and Vernie’re finally taking the big ice plunge.”

 

“So?”

 

“So...maybe you’re right.  Maybe I am afraid you’re gonna leave me.  Maybe I’m afraid I’m gonna be alone.”

 

Lenny smiled fondly.  “Aww, Squig, I’m sorry I’ve been crazy all day.  I’m just scared today ain’t real and me and Vernie ain’t really gonna get married.”

 

“If she dumps you, she’d be making the worst mistake of her life, pal.”

 

Out of instinct, they went to shake hands.  right on the “idiot”, Emmaline plunged it into the lock and, with a twist of her wrist, released them. 

 

The boys gasped, stuck in mid-handshake, their hands suddenly completely free for the first time in hours.  They let go and started to rub their raw wrists. 

 

“When in doubt, Len - ask a woman,” Emmaline said coolly.

 

“Thanks, Emmy - aww- I got an Indian burn,” he moaned.

 

“Oh, stop being a baby,” she handed him a corsage of tigelilies and a boutonnière.  “Some of the flowers died, so Laverne had me run down to a florist and buy a couple of these.”

 

“Ha!  Lenny’s gonna wear flowers at his wedding!” Squiggy sing-songed.

 

“Pipe down, shorty,” Emmaline handed Squiggy his boutonnière, then Carmine and Hector.  “See you in the garden, boys.”  With a new confidence in her walk she exited the room.

 

“Who was that?” Ivor asked.

 

“An angel of mercy sent from heaven,” Lenny said, looking skyward - then pricked himself on the pin.

Lenny barely had time to think before Father Kerry appeared in the doorway.

 

“Fellows, it’s time,”  he said.  On seeing far too many people than  he’d anticipated, he added, “anyone who’s NOT in the wedding party, please take the back door to the Garden of Assumption and take a seat.”

 

Fonzie smiled blandly.  “Sorry, father- waiting on my kid..” As if on cue, the toilet flushed and Danny emerged.  “Let’s go, Dan,” and tried to take his hand.

 

Danny blushed and muttered something beneath his breath as he exited.

 

“Padre,” said Bubba, “before I go, can I interest you in the greatest bar b q sauce known to mankind?”

 

“I’m not hungry.”

 

Bubba’s meaty hand clamped down on Father Kerry’s shoulder.  “I’m talking about your monastery, son!  I know you fellas don’t get much of a kick where y’all are, so why not let your taste buds party like they’re on the Haight?”

 

Father Kerry took the jar from Bubba.  “All right - I’ll try it.  NOW will you please be seated?”

 

“All right, padre.  I like your church - nice windows, but you need a bigger pulpit.  I have someone who contracts for me at fifty per cent the going rate...”

 

“Let’s talk about it at the reception.  All right?”

 

“Okay,” Bubba strolled out the door.  “Can I smoke here?”  he called.

 

“NO,”  Father Kerry said.  When the sound of another door closing echoed through the church he released a deep breath.

 

Ivor turned to Lenny and carefully pinned the boutonnière in place.  “I hope,” he said, “that it’s a good life you’re starting today.  And a happy one you’re going to make.”

 

Lenny swept his father into a bear hug.  “I love you, Pop.”

 

Ivor’s stiffness melted away, and he roughly returned the hug.  “I love you too.”

 

“Ivor!” called his mother from the hallway, “come show Antonia her seat!”

 

“I’m coming, Ma,” Ivor said, but he grinned at Lenny one more time before retreating. 

 

“ANTHONY!” called Antonia DeFazio, “Ivor can’t find my seat!”

 

“Coming, Grandma!” Anthony yelled.

 

“You can still back out, Len,” Squiggy offered.

 

“No way,” Lenny said.

 

“Come along, sons,” said Father Kerry, and Lenny and Squiggy followed him faithfully outside and into the garden.

 

As they had been promised, the garden was in full bloom, filled with tigerlilies, roses and buzzing bees.  As Lenny took his place at the foot of the Adam and Eve statue, he scanned the full rows of folding chairs and waved to his friends and family.  Anthony, Antonia DeFazio, his Gagga, his Pop, Edna and Emmaline made up the first row; behind them sat Bubba Wilson, Biff and Dave, Fonzie, his kid, and, in full costume, Adam West.  Around the chain-link fence surrounding the garden hung a gaggle of neighborhood kids, watching the outsiders marry.   Lenny heard the processional start and up the aisle came Mikey with the rings, followed by Hector and Terri (the latter of whom was trying to pull away from the former’s frisky hands), Carmine and Rhonda, and finally Squiggy and Shirley.

 

“Well, ol’ chum,” Squiggy said.  “this is your last chance.  If you say so, we could be in Mexico by dawn...”

 

“ANDREW,” Shirley said sharply. 

 

The wedding march cut off any response Lenny might have had.

 

***

 

Laverne stood in the doorway of the church, holding her bouquet of tigerlies, dressed in the regalia of her mother and the forbearers of her husband.  Eerily, she was calm as the she had been this morning - without a doubt, she felt that what she was doing was right.

 

Strains of the wedding march filled the air and she took her first step forward.

 

The pavement felt hot beneath her shoe, the sunlight toasting her skin.  She kept her chin up and moved on the beat, glancing sideways at her gathered friends, seeing their happy faces. 

 

Then she saw  him, waiting for her before the statue.  He was so handsome in his gray suit - she had expected something loud or ill-fitting - and his eyes were wide and blue, staring only at her.

 

She remembered all of the important things there - the sort of man he really was.

 

The little boy hiding behind his mother’s skirt as the two women exchanged pleasantries and tried to get the two preschoolers on friendly terms...the slightly-older boy offering her half his fluffernutter and making her his friend...Peter Pan with Tigerlilly, yelling like banshees as they ran up Jefferson Avenue...kissing him on the cheek in his father’s kitchen...his eyes twinkling as Jell-O slipped down the back of her dress...wiping his eyes after he’d finished reading “Anne Frank’s Diary”...awkward dancing at the Junior Prom....the first time he tried to kiss her during a field trip to the Science Museum...awkward dancing at the Senior Prom...graduation, where he’d tried to take her hand...spending all night sewing an “L” onto his jacket...his proposal in her dire hour...the disaster at La Fondue...holding hands after Shirley’s appendectomy...I’m In Love With Laverne...cross-country driving in a tiny ice cream truck...Hoot Night...Spin the bottle and kissing on the couch...the first time her mouth touched his body...groping in the darkness...his scarred body...”will you marry me?”...a half-eaten lopsided birthday cake and a new, fresh one beside it.

 

She reached out for him; his hand was so sweaty that she lost her grip and he had to take hold of her.  His smile was crooked but endearing.

 

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured.

 

“Thanks,” she smiled.  “You’re handsome.”  Her eyes fell to their hands, and to corsage on his wrist.  She looked up at him in confusion.

 

“DON’T ASK,” the groomsmen said together.

 

Father Kerry cleared his throat, bringing all eyes back to him.  “Dearly beloved,” he said, “we are gathered here today to join this man and woman in holy matrimony...”

 

She half-listened to the recitational.

 

“Who gives this woman to be married?”

 

“I do,” said Edna.

 

“Lenny and Laverne have selected their own vows, and they’d like to recite them for you now.”

 

Laverne took a deep breath and recited from memory the first Corinthians, 13;1-8.

 

“If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal.

 

If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing.

 

If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love, I gain nothing.

 

Love is patient, love is kind.

 

It does not envy,

 

it does not boast,

 

it is not proud.

 

It is not rude,

 

it is not self-seeking,

 

it is not easily angered,

 

it keeps no record of wrongs.

 

Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.

 

It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

 

Love never fails.” 

 

The words were romantic and fell from her tongue with a blessed eloquence, but removed the further verses about doubt.  And as she said them, she realized she had done all of these things with him.  Now was their second chance - a fresh new beginning.  When she finished she felt a wave of pride and relief - she had remembered it all without screwing up.

 

Then she said: "All of my life I’ve been told to wait for Mr. Right; the one guy who I would marry, start a family with and grow old with.  I use to wish for him so much; he’d be the one to hug me when times were bad and to dance with me when life was good.  I looked so long and hard for him and I kissed a lot of frogs trying to find the prince.  I’m just glad that I finally realized that my prince was also my best guy-friend and he was standing right under my nose the whole time.  I’m even more happy that my prince waited for me to wise up and that I now know that I’ll never ever be without him again.  I love you, Lenny."

 

 

She looked up into Lenny’s eyes, and he opened his mouth.

 

What came from it was anything but the Corinthians.

 

"I’m the luckiest guy in the world!  I’m marrying the girl of my dreams today, and the best part is she loves me too!  Not even Peter Pan every got this lucky with…  Anyhow, I love you, Laverne.  It’s always been you, and it will always be you.   I ain’t never gonna do nothing that will make you wish you weren’t here with me today.  I’ll move mountains for you-and for our babies-not that we’re expecting any-I mean now, that is.  Where was I?  Oh yeah.  Laverne, you’re everything to me, and I’m gonna do whatever it takes to make a good life for the two of us-and anyone else who comes along.  I love you, Ti-Laverne."

 

 

“Well,” smiled Father Kerry, “that was...unique.   Do you have the rings?”

 

Mikey came forward, thrusting the pillow out at them with obvious distaste at being selected for such a role.    Lenny picked up her ring, she picked up his ring, and they repeated after Father Kerry:

 

“With this ring, I thee wed - to have and to hold from this day forth, to honor and cherish for better or for worse, for richer or poorer,   in sickness and in health, forsaking all others for as long as we both shall live.”

 

Laverne’s ring slid on her finger smoothly, but Lenny’s jammed on the knuckle.  A quick twist put it in place.

 

“Your hand’s all swollen,” Laverne murmured worriedly.

 

“It’s okay,” he mumbled back.

 

“Now, if there are no objections...”  a long silence reigned.  “Then by the power vested in me by the State of California, may no man put asunder what He has brought together.  I now pronounce you man and wife...”

 

Lenny reached down and grabbed Laverne out of her shoes, “Hey, Tigerlily Kosnowski,” he said, before pasting his lips hard to hers.  They mauled each other to the hooting of the gathered crowd but heard nothing but the roaring of their own blood.  “Want to kiss the bride again?” he laughed when they surfaced for air.

 

This time, she wrapped her arms around his neck and planted one on his lips.

 

“Ladies and Gentlemen, may I present Mister and Missus Leonard Kosnowski!”

 

Neither of them were aware of a familiar figure hanging in the shadow of the alley, watching them with sad eyes as they ran up the aisle, pelted on all sides by rice.

 

***

 

“Wanna do it in the truck?”

 

Laverne laughed heartily at the suggestion.  They were rushing through the mid-afternoon traffic to make it to the beach, all of their guests having beaten them out of the parking lot of Santa Maria’s.  She kept picking rice out of her hair.  He leveled her with a dead-serious look.  “Len...” she began.

 

“That’d be a neat story to tell our grandkids.  ‘well, Billy, me and your grandma were dying to do it and...’”His hand slipped over her left thigh teasingly and began to tug the hem of her dress higher....and the blaring of a horn behind them as they swerved to the left made them stop and focus on driving.

 

“Better wait awhile,” she mumbled, the headline Bride and Groom die in horrific car wreck; bride was 29 year old virgin flashing through her mind.

 

Their little pavilion was beautifully decorated with cream-colored balloons and streamers - as Lenny parked by the curb Laverne nearly leapt out of the car just to be done with the reception.  A tiny part of her had considered skipping this so they could finally get to the ‘doing it’ part of wedded bliss.

 

Shirley had worked way too hard on the reception to even consider that, though, and the beach theme she had put together was somehow elegant and yet affordable.  She heard Carmine announce their arrival as Lenny came to stand beside her, and their friends applauded and hooted wildly as they kissed and walked into their midst.

 

The one thing Laverne hadn’t counted on - even with such a small party - was the family’s chatterbox nature.  They were both soon awash in the tears and hugging arms of their families and were promptly kept apart and in separate conversations for minutes.

 

They finally reconvened at the head of the table, where they were fussed over by Shirley and their grandmothers.  Laverne ate plate after plate of rich food - perogis, lasagna, manicotti - washed down by glasses of wine which barely left her with a warm drunken glow. 

 

Squiggy stood up and delivered a toast between courses: “Shut up, ladies and gentlemen, shut up, please.” He glared the crowd into silence. “Ahem. Yeah. Okay, so this is my toast to Lenny and Laverne.” He picked up the champagne glass on the table in front of him and twisted the stem between his fingers. “Geeze, that sounds funny, don’t it? Laverne and Lenny. Y’know, cause it’s always been Lenny and Squiggy.” He frowned at the glass, then shook his head. “Anyhoo, I’m not much for the mushy stuff, so’s I’ll make this short and sour.” He raised his eyes and looked around the room, his eyes finally coming to rest on Lenny and Laverne. Squiggy lifted his glass. “To Lenny and Laverne. You guys finally figured out what the rest of us figured out a long time ago. You belong together. A lot. So…cheers.” He downed the entire glass of champagne in a single swig, then sat down and stared at his shoes.

 

Lenny was so enraptured with his bride he barely noticed the strangeness of his friend’s words.

 

Then there were cookies, tarts and cannolis and tarts, all of them devoured buffet-style by the guests and priest with great enthusiasm.  Laverne felt a tinge of relief that all of the baking and cooking she, Shirley and their grandmothers had done was appreciated.  There was also the endless clinking of glasses by their friends that demanded kiss after kiss from she and Lenny.

 

This part of the reception she minded least - well, that and Lenny’s hand stroking her knee under the table now and again. 

 

When the last plate was cleared away, it was time for the first dance.

 

Carmine mounted the podium and sang, with absolutely no backup, “A Kiss to Build a Dream On.”  She and Lenny moved together, the dance a mild precursor to what would happen late tonight in Catalina.  She rested her head in the crook of his neck and absorbed everything in the moment; the sound of waves hitting the shoreline, Carmine’s operatic singing, the sound of her husband’s breathing and the silky feeling of his suit coat against her cheek. 

 

“I’m crazy about you, Tigerlilly,” Lenny said against her ear.

 

“Gee,” she rubbed her belly against the firm pressure of his erection, “I never woulda guessed.”

 

“Laverne,” she heard behind her, and looked over her shoulder to see her grandmother holding a medium-sized Bible.  “Anthony’s taking me to the hotel, but before I left I wanted you to see this.”

 

Laverne knew well the DeFazio Bible - it recorded all of the important births and deaths in the family, all the way back to the early 1700’s.  Antonia pointed down the line, to where Fabrizio DeFazio (b.1921) married Josephine Abruzzi (b.1922-d.1945) and the little line down that indicated Laverne Marie DeFazio (b.1941) had married Lenny J. Kosnowski (b.1941) on this very day in 1965.  She ignored the empty dashes next to their death dates and saw the ample room beneath them for the names of their unborn children.  “Aww, Grandma...”

 

She hugged her granddaughter briefly before she squeezed an obviously emotional Lenny - to him she knew this was a major deal and a sign he was accepted into the family.  “You’ll take good care of her,” it was an order.

 

“Yes, ma’am,” Lenny replied.

 

Before Laverne could miss her Grandmother, she found herself swept away from Lenny and into another conversation with Anthony.  The boy seemed so ill-at-ease lately, but not for any reason she could discern; they left with the promise that Rhonda would deliver them slices of cake before they boarded the train tomorrow.

 

“You wanna go with ‘em, Gaga?” Lenny asked her as she danced by.

 

“Are you kidding?” Adrielle tossed off her shoes and took up her skirts, leading a conga line that soon incorporated all of the attendees.

 

Of course, Antonia couldn’t leave after a challenge like that.  Soon, Carmine was trying to teach her how to Rumba, which was a slightly disturbing sight.

 

There was wild dancing; impromptu mambos with Shirley and Carmine, bunny hopping, slow dances.  Carmine sang ‘Hey Schoolgirl,’ for them, then did ‘I Left My Heart in San Francisco’ for Adrielle and, to the accompaniment of Edna’s ukulele, “Little Grass Shack.”  As day turned to night and the pavilion was illuminated by palm-tree shaped patio lights and hurricane lamps, Laverne danced with Carmine, Biff, Squiggy (her toes screamed), Anthony and Hector.  As Carmine played ‘Take Five’ on the hi fi she tapped her husband on the shoulder and pressed herself unsubtly close.

 

“Hello, sailor.  Come here often?”

 

“Oh, it’s you - what’s your name again?”

 

She felt his hand caress her bottom lightly as they moved in slow unison.  “Are you having fun?”

 

“Oh yeah - you know your Grandma knows how to rumba?”

 

Laverne smirked, “you know your dad knows how to twist?”

 

He nuzzled her ear and blew into it.  “You know what I want?”

 

“Some cake?”

 

“No!” he whined. 

 

“Tough cookies, buster - cake first, then fun,” she teased.

 

The cake was huge, beautiful, and soon a part of Lenny’s right nostril.  Most of his slice for her had been splattered into her mouth and up her neck - and thankfully not down the dress.  As they sliced cake for the rest of the party, reserving two more to REALLY eat, Carmine gave a toast: Laverne had selected him in the hope that whatever Squiggy might say, Carmine would manage to give a gentlemanly point of view.

 

Carmine stood up and cleared his throat. “Marriage…is good. And yes, I am speaking from personal experience.” He waited for the chuckles to subside, and grinned at Shirley. She batted her lashes at him. “Anyway, Len, congratulations. I’ve known you for a long time, pal. I knew you back when you were turning your eyelids inside out to impress girls back in high school. And don’t think I didn’t notice the one girl in particular you wanted to impress.” He waggled his forefinger at Lenny, who blushed.

 

“As for you, Vernie.” Carmine smiled at her. “It took you awhile. You had some false starts along the way; guys who weren’t nearly good enough for you.” Laverne shrugged and nodded. “That’s all in the past now, though. For today, and tomorrow, and all the days to come, you two are finished with impressing and searching. You’ve finally realized that the girl – and guy – next door were meant to be together all along.” He raised his glass. “Here’s to Lenny and Laverne. If you two are even half as happy together as Shirley and I, well, there’s nothing better I can wish for you both. Congratulations…and I love you guys.”

 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Squiggy cut in, “I have an announcement - so shut up and listen!  “Lenny and Laverne, I love you both like I love moths and French postcards.  So in accordion with your blessed day, I went ahead and got you a little something for you,” he held out an envelope to them, which Lenny quickly opened.

 

He stared at the contents in astonishment.  “Two round-trip tickets to Alaska?”

 

“Alaska!” Laverne gaped.

 

“That’s right!  You’ve got a three-night stay at the Castlemaine Inn and Sheep Farm in Anourak, Alaska!”

 

“Sheep farm?!” Lenny and Laverne cried together.

 

“But you gotta get out of here in an hour - the flight leaves at ten!”

 

“TEN?!” They cried out together - it was nine-forty now and LAX was a ten-minute drive on a good day.

 

“But I didn’t pack any winter clothes,” Laverne began.

 

“Tut!  That’s why I went to the liberty of packing your suitcases,” Squiggy picked up and then heaved two suitcases at them.

 

“Don’t worry,” Shirley whispered in Laverne’s ear, “I repacked them for you.”

 

“Squig...” Lenny began.

 

“Len, my good man, have a good honeymoon - and if you don’t, try not to name it after me.”

 

Laverne groaned and tossed her bouquet over her shoulder - where it landed quite easily in Rhonda’s hand.  Lenny grabbed Laverne’s hand and they rushed out of the reception, finding that the ice cream truck had been decorated by the groomsmen with streamers, balloons, “just married” signs and...blown-up condoms?  It all barely registered with Laverne as she shouted to Shirley to make sure her wedding presents made it back home, to have Squiggy pick up the truck at LAX and make sure her wedding clothes ended up back in the apartment. 

 

“Laverne!” Ivor’s voice cut through the well-wishers.  “Your father told me to give you this!”

 

She took the large manila envelope as he handed it to her and stuffed it inside of her oversized purse.  “Thanks, Ivor.”

 

“Have fun kids,” he said mildly, ducking out of the way as Lenny drove out into the nearly-deserted street under a hail of rice.

 

***

 

Emmaline watched her brother leave with a smile on her face - he looked so happy, just as he deserved to be. 

 

A snapping noise brought her to attention.  “Dance with me,” Fonzie ordered.

 

“No thanks,” she remarked, eyeing her son as he drooped on the curb.  “I’ve got to take Mikey home.”

 

“The night’s still young, the moon’s still out...”

 

“My son’s sleeping on the street...”

 

“Emmaline,” Ivor said, “we need to talk.”

 

“Catch up with me later,” she instructed Fonzie, knowing he’d be in town for the next day or so.  She still didn’t have his number.

 

She followed Ivor to the curbside, where they were nearly alone among the gradually-departing guests.  “When are you coming home?”

 

“I am home.”

 

“To Milwaukee.”

 

“Daddy, I don’t know if Milwaukee IS home anymore.”

 

He looked her in the eye.  “All of Mikey’s friends are there - and he needs to go back to school.”

 

“I know - I need to enroll him...”

 

“...And I can get you a job at the cannery until you find another nice young man.  Every Kosnowski should work for Smithson’s Sardines.”

 

She looked up sharply but listened with a falsified patience.  She couldn’t blow up at him as she did in her youth - not in front of all of these people....

 

“I know a kid who works on the line - he’s a much better catch than Gill.”

 

“Daddy, I need to think about it.”

 

“All right,” he said.  “It was a lovely wedding.”

 

“I thought so.”

 

Emmaline gathered Mikey in her arms and stood. 

 

“Emmy,” her father said, “I do know what’s best for you.”

 

No you don’t!  “I’ll think about it, Dad.”

 

But what choice did she have?  Mikey was enrolled in Milwaukee; the school year, while delayed by a month, would soon go on without him.  They needed to go back, to reconnect with his friends, and she needed her possessions.

 

And Fonzie’s in Milwaukee, she considered, her decision coming sharply into focus with the swaying of his hips.

 

***

 

“Whattya mean the flight’s delayed?”

 

“The flight from Los Angeles to Anourak has been delayed by thirty minutes,” Lenny was informed as she handed him back his boarding passes.  “There’s been an increase in fog in Anourak and it should take a little while to clear.  Your group number will be called when the flight’s ready.”

 

Lenny groaned, nearly pained by the extra delay.  He and Laverne had hurriedly changed out of their wedding clothes and back into what they’d been wearing earlier - in his case a blue Hawaiian shirt and jeans.  She waited for him on a row of hard lounge seats, suitcases beside her and her purse in her lap.

 

“Delayed?”

 

“Yup.”  She groaned.  “You wanna go do it in the ladies’ room?”

 

“Len, I didn’t save it to lose it in the ladies’ room.”  She opened up her purse.  “Wanna look at some of our cards?”

 

He shrugged.  She pulled out one and opened it.

 

“Aww, it’s from Angie and Guido...” in the card was a check for five hundred dollars.  Laverne felt herself salivate as Lenny’s eyes grew wide.

 

“Woah, what does Guido do for a living, and does he do stuff in California?”

 

That doused Laverne’s enthusiasm.  “I’ll put this somewhere safe,” she said, shoving the check deep into her purse.   She grinned and pulled something out.  “Here, flip through this,” she suggested.

 

Lenny’s eyes bugged out as he took in all of the varieties of positions the little Kama Sutra volume offered.  “Wanna try a number 2?”

 

She smirked.  “How about figure three?”

 

“I got a trick knee,” Lenny pointed out. 

 

“We can do it sitting up,” she suggested.

 

“You can do it sitting up?” he gaped.

 

It amused her, to imagine that she knew a little bit more about sex than he did in some way.  “Wanna open up my Pop’s envelope?”

 

Lenny shrugged.  “If you wanna.”

 

Laverne tentatively opened up the manila folder and pulled out something which suspiciously looked like a contract.  Relief and confusion battled for control of her features.  “Len,” she said softly, “this is the deed to Dead Lazlo’s place.”

 

“Why’d he give it back?”

 

“I guess as a wedding present,” she eyed the contract - at the very bottom he’d taped keys for the resteraunt.  “Len,” she said, “he’s daring me to try something I messed up at before.”

 

“Vernie, I don’t know how to run a restaurant.”

 

“Me neither,” she said.  “We could sell it for quick cash - get a house.”

 

“I guess - whatever you’d like.”

 

“Let’s talk about it after the honeymoon.  Len,” she squeezed his hand, “it’s your place, too.”

 

“I wanna be where you are,” Lenny said.

 

She reached over and hugged him, then looked at her watch.  “Past midnight.  Happy birthday, Len.”

 

“Yeah?” he grinned.  “Whatt’d’ya get me?”

 

“All of the good presents are under wraps - but, I did get you a little something,” she pulled something small out of her purse and handed it to him.  He unwrapped it eagerly.

 

He gaped at it.  “A necklace?”  he looked at her oddly.  “Vernie, I don’t wear jewelry.”

 

“It ain’t a necklace - it’s a medal,” she explained, showing him the small circular picture stamped with Saint Jude’s face.  “It’s blessed, Len - it’s supposed to protect you.”

 

“Oh!” he said, instantly unclasping it and turning around so she could put it on him.  She fastened it, and he turned around. 

 

“I just wanted to get you something for your saint day,” she said.

 

“Thanks Vernie - hey - I got you a wedding present!” he tossed open his suitcase and began to toss out shirts and pants until he found a small object wrapped in newspaper.  She helped him re-pack and then unwrapped the present.

 

“A book?” she said.

 

“It ain’t just any book...”

 

She looked at the spine and her eyes bugged out.  “’Peter Pan!’”  She flipped open the book and read a couple of extractions.  “Len...where did you get this?”

 

“I had Hector pick it up.”

 

“This is from the Milwaukee Public Library.”

 

His jaw dropped.  “No way.”

 

“Yes!”  She held it tightly to her chest.  “Hector didn’t steal it...”

 

“Nah - I just told him ‘get me a copy of Peter Pan’, and he did.”

 

“I guess it was meant to be with us,” Laverne smiled.

 

He squeezed her hand.

 

“Would everyone in group 19 please prepare for boarding?” Came over the loudspeaker.

 

“That’s us,” Lenny said, and together they walked to the boarding gate.

 

***

 

A train rolled across the flatlands of Nevada as a dark-haired woman luxuriated in the arms of her husband.

 

“It was a nice wedding,” Shirley said from her comfortable position in her sleeper berth.

 

“Yeah - great job, honey.”

 

“Now it’s all up to Lenny and Laverne.”

 

“They’ll figure it out.”

 

“Are you excited?” he asked.

 

“I’m sure I’ll never be able to sleep,” she said.  “New York!  Can you imagine it?”

 

“Yeah,” Carmine said gruffly.

 

“I’m sorry if it brings up bad memories for you.”

 

“Nah - we’re gonna make great ones there, you and me.”

 

Shirley smiled, resting her head on Carmine’s inner arm.

 

He lay awake for hours watching her, and trying to convince himself that the next few hours would contain a true fresh start for them both...

 

 

***

 

“Missus Kosnowski?”  Laverne came abruptly awake and then stared blearily at the blonde stewardess bending over to greet her.  “We’re in Alaska, Missus Kosnowski,” she said.  

 

“I’m sorry,” Laverne yawned. 

 

“It’s all right - thank you for flying Delta Air.

 

Laverne cracked her bones and rose, opening the overhead compartment and taking her suitcase.  When she looked backward, Lenny snored on.

 

“Len?” she yelled.  “LEN!”

 

He came awake.  “Waah?” he whined.

 

“We’re here!”

 

“Oh,” he cracked his neck and stretched, standing up.  He picked up his suitcase, donned their long-forgotten quilted winter jackets and they headed out to greet the frigid Alaskan morning.

 

To their amazement, their ride - indicated by a man in a large hunting cap with a handlebar mustache and large, jowly face holding a “Laverne and Lenny” sign - was waiting just outside of the baggage claim.

 

“Well, hiya!” the man said.  “My name is Pete Castlemaine - welcome to Anourak!”

 

“Hi,” Lenny and Laverne said, simultaneously and with equal amounts of exhaustion.

 

“Lemme help you with those bags there,” he said, taking their suitcases and leading them out to the icy parking lot.  Slipping along, they found Pete’s rusted pick up and strapped themselves in.

 

The four-mile journey to Pete’s Inn took them over miles of snowy terrain.  Pete spoke constantly, about how he and his wife Marjorie were Wisconsin transplants who had moved to Alaska because they understood it was to be the future of American commerce, about the local restaurants and his large in-ground pool and new Jacuzzi; about local politics.  The Jacuzzi part was the only thing which held Laverne’s tired mind.

 

“and here we are!”  Pete beeped the horn, waking Lenny from his short slumber against Laverne’s shoulder.  What rose before them was a large three-story Shaker done in gray clapboard, fronted by a semicircular driveway and surrounded by a barn and a small grazing area.  Laverne saw a little chestnut thoroughbred running by a silo and didn’t quite believe her eyes.

 

Pete helped them out of the pickup and carried their suitcases into the warm farmhouse.  Lenny and Laverne were warmly if briefly greeted by Marjorie, who offered them fresh scones and coffee, which they politely turned down.   Pete took them upstairs to what he and Marjorie winkingly called “the honeymoon suite.”

 

On the third floor, Lenny and Laverne were led to room 21 - a small paradise, to their surprise.  It had a four-poster bed with white sheets and luxurious pillows, and a rustic cabin-in-the-woods sort of theme to it with lots of cabin-shaped or pine-hewn accents.  There was a large bay window facing the bed, letting the first rays of sunlight into the warmly glowing room.  Pete handed them brochures as he neatly placed their suitcases on a chair in the corner of the room.

 

“So, you kids have fun ‘ey?  Breakfast is at nine, lunch is at noon, and if you need service you leave one of these,” he held up a paper hook, “on the door, okey-dokey?”

 

“Okey-dokey,” Laverne and Lenny echoed automatically.

 

Pete disappeared, and Lenny and Laverne were alone.  At last.

 

She backed up onto the platform and sat down on the bed; he followed her up and sat to her right.  They reached for each other and began to kiss.

 

And yawn.  And yawn.

 

She slipped off her pumps and put down her purse, lying down on the mattress.  Lenny followed, lying against her.  They pressed themselves together, mouth-to-mouth.

 

And yawned.

 

“Vernie, I’m just gonna rest for a second.”

 

“Yeah,” she mumbled.  “me too.”

 

But at the moment, a lack of sleep combined with hours of dancing, stress and full bellies to lull Lenny and Laverne toward rest.

 

When the sun flooded their room, it found Mister and Missus Leonard Kosnowski sleeping peacefully in each other’s arms - fully dressed.

To Always Calm Before a Storm
To Always Kiss Me Goodnight