Three-Point Play by Todd Hafer Page B

ceremony continued, Cody scanned the congregation noting how many people dabbed at their eyes with handkerchiefs and tissues. He knew that Pastor Taylor was delivering another of his famously poignant wedding messages, but he couldn’t concentrate on the words.
    The only words he could focus on were the ones that flashed in his brain, like the neon sign over the Dairy Delight: DON’T FAINT, DON’T CRY, DON’T FAINT, DON’T CRY.
    Fail to heed either of these warnings, Cody knew, and his father’s wedding day could be ruined.
    Cody’s narrow train of thought derailed momentarily when the pastor got to the part about “You got a problem with this marriage? Then speak now, or forever hold your peace.”
    Okay , Cody tried to send a telepathic message to the congregants, here’s your last chance, people. C’mon, somebody out there must have an objection—what are you waiting for?
    But no objections were forthcoming. Cody stifled a sigh and handed his sniffling father the ring. Okay, Lord , he prayed. I get the message. Your will, not Cody Martin’s, be done. But I hope it wasn’t too bad a thing to hold out one last little hope—
    Cody cut his prayer short as he fumbled the handoff of the ring. It dropped toward the ground. Cody could imagine it hitting the floor and rolling into a heating vent, where it would be lost forever. Instinctively, he bent his knees and shot out his right hand, quick as a rattlesnake strike. Relief warmed him as his fist clenched around the ring.
    His father winked at him. “Nice catch,” he whispered.

    The reception was held in the church’s fellowship area. Cody was hugged and patted by dozens of people, many of whom he didn’t know. This is kinda like being in the locker room after a big game, he thought. Except for all the perfume and cologne . And thank goodness I don’t have to see any of these people naked, especially old Mrs. Leadbetter. Yuck!
    He had just been sandwiched between two large women wearing blood-red hats, describing themselves as “your new aunties!” when he saw Blake approaching.
    The youth pastor smiled widely at the women, announcing, “I need to steal this young man from you for a moment if I may, ladies.”
    Giggling, they released Cody from between them.
    â€œThey’re getting ready to cut the cake,” Blake offered.
    â€œOh, goodie,” said the woman with the slightly bigger and redder hat. “I just adore wedding cake!”
    â€œThanks for the rescue, B,” Cody whispered, as he followed Blake up the stairs and into the youth pastor’s office.
    Blake sat on his desk, rather than behind it, and gestured for Cody to sit down facing him.
    â€œI wish you could see your face right now, Cody,” the youth pastor began. “There must be a whirlwind going on inside your head. Want to take a shot at trying to explain to me what’s going on up there? I’m concerned about you.”
    â€œI’m not sure if I can put it into words, B. It’s kinda like eating a really good meal, and that makes you happy, right? But, then, something about the meal doesn’t sit quite right in your stomach. Maybe it was too sweet or too rich. Or maybe you ate too much. And, all of the sudden, you think you’re gonna puke. That’s how I feel, I guess. Does that make any sense?”
    Blake pursed his lips and nodded slowly. “You know, Code, it does. It ain’t poetry, but I think I see what you’re getting at. You’re happy for your dad. Maybe for Beth too. But on the other hand—”
    â€œYeah—the other hand. The one that just balled itself into a fist and drilled me in the stomach.” Cody stood. “I think I’m gonna go outside and walk around for a while. Get some air.”
    â€œWhere are you planning to go?”
    Cody tried to smile, but he got the feeling the attempt wasn’t successful. “Anyplace