The Wedding Machine Read Online Free Page B

door.
    August 15 is the first day of deer hunting season in South Carolina, and it couldn’t have come at a better time. Everything is set up for tomorrow’s tea, and the longer Ray can keep the boys out of the house, the better.
    â€œThis is a big day, darlin’!” Willy beams at Ray while dancing toward the kitchen with the oblong case cocked on his shoulder. She watches her husband inching his way through the minefield of crystal and china.
    Willy’s a state senator just like his daddy was, although he doesn’t look a thing like Ray thinks a state senator should look. He’s stout with a stubby bald head and rough, nubby hands that look like they were made to pull watermelons off the vines instead of flipping through papers at the State House in Columbia. He’s like family to most folks around Jasper, so everyone from the mayor to their housekeeper calls him Cousin Willy.
    â€œHow was the doctor, love?” Willy says.
    â€œAwful.” Ray rolls her eyes. “She’s got me taking herbs, of all things. I’m going back to Angus as soon as I get the nerve to tell Hilda.”
    Cousin Willy squeezes Justin’s shoulder and says, “What’s the rule, son?”
    â€œJust shoot bucks,” Justin leans in to Ray. “Those are the ones with bones on their heads.”
    â€œRacks,” Cousin Willy says.
    Ray nods, though her mind reels with wedding concerns. She’s got to pack her car with the birdseed and tulle for the meeting at Kitty B.’s. She hasn’t had a chance to talk to Angus, either—to let him know he and his girlfriend can’t sit on the same pew as Hilda, or she will simply lose it. She ought to double-check the forecast to make sure Eleanor doesn’t have her eye on Jasper.
    â€œThe first deer rack of the season gets stuffed, right?” Justin says.
    â€œThat’s right, son,” Willy winks. “I’ve got a place picked out right over my desk for that buck’s head.”
    â€œYou mean right over my bed,” Justin says, pushing Willy’s forearm with his fist. Ray looks at them both and says, “Don’t forget my rule, hear?”
    Last year Willy and Justin had stopped by the house for a Co-Cola on their way from the deer hunt to the meat processor, and Ray pulled up from the grocery store to find a fat doe strapped to the top of the truck dripping blood through its open mouth onto her newly constructed slate driveway.
    As she stopped beside the truck to examine the mess, she looked up and spotted a buzzard out of the corner of her eye circling her home. She knew it was nature’s way, but she loathed the filthy creatures. They continually mar the pristine skyline with their large black wings and glossy eyes, scanning the salt marsh and the woods and roadside in search of the wounded and the dead.
    â€œRay,” Cousin Willy called out to her. He was running toward her as the edges of her vision became fuzzy and her knees began to buckle. She let her groceries fall—eggs and all—and grabbed hold of the big metal mirror on the side of his truck as she fainted. He’d caught her and carried her into the house, where he laid her down on the couch, wet a cool dish rag, and rolled it up before placing it on her pale forehead.

    â€œI do not want to see the poor creature until he’s vacuum-sealed in loins and sausage links and neatly stacked in the freezer in the garage,” Ray says to them both, looking back and forth into their eyes.
    â€œFair enough. We don’t want you fainting again, sweet lady.” Willy kisses her right on the lips before she has a chance to pucker.
    Tuxedo, their black Labrador retriever, paces back and forth. He’s seen the gun cases and knows that this means a trip to the country, where he’ll chase rabbits and field mice around the cabin as the men file out into their stands.
    As Justin calls Tuxedo into the flatbed, Cousin Willy