handkerchief, and blew her nose to hide her tears.
“She’s beautiful,” Louisa said, and Teddy nodded, her eyes brimming.
The organ music swelled to drown out the sound of the joyful weeping, the “Ooooohs” and “Ahhhhs” which heralded the bride’s steady regal progress down the aisle. The flash bulbs popped as the photographer busily kept his shutter clicking. Tony Carella, his bent arm supporting the trembling hand of his daughter, walked down the aisle with the dignity of a monarch about to be crowned, certain that the twitching of his left eye was not visible to anyone in the pews.
In the first pew on the bride’s half of the church, Steve Carella sat alongside his wife and chewed his lip.
Somebody sawed through that rod end, he thought. This was no damn black widow joke. This was serious business.
Angela climbed the steps to the altar. Tommy smiled at her, and she returned the smile, and then lowered her eyes behind the pale white veil.
And whoever did the sawing was well aware of that steep hill and that sharp turn. Whoever did it probably sawed it through just far enough to know it would snap when the turn was attempted.
Tony Carella handed his daughter to his soon-to-be-son. Together, the couple faced the priest. The church was still with the solemnity of the occasion.
Tommy saw something glinting on the driveway as we pulled out, Carella thought. Probably metal filings from the sawed rod. The rod is thin. Ten minutes with a hack saw could have done a very fine job on it. And Sam Jones was gone for a half-hour walk. And Sam Jones had dirt on the knees of his trousers. And it was Sam Jones who gave the driver permission to leave the limousine in search of a cup of coffee.
The priest said a prayer and then blessed the couple with holy water. Tommy was sweating profusely. Beneath the white veil, Angela’s lips were trembling.
“Do you, Thomas Giordano,” the priest said, “take this woman as your lawfully wedded wife to live together in the state of holy matrimony? Will you love, honor and keep her as a faithful man is bound to do, in health, sickness, prosperity, and adversity, and forsaking all others keep you alone unto her ‘til death do you part?”
Tommy swallowed hard. “Yes,” he said. “I do.”
“Do you, Angela Louisa Carella, take this man as your lawfully wedded husband to live together in the state of holymatrimony? Will you love, honor and cherish him as a faithful woman is bound to do, in health, sickness…”
And it was Sam Jones, Carella thought, who conveniently stepped out of the automobile to buy a package of cigarettes just before the crash.
“… prosperity and adversity, and forsaking all others keep you alone unto him ‘til death do you part?”
“I do,” Angela whispered.
It is also Sam Jones, best man and best friend, who is named in Tommy’s will, who gets everything Tommy owns should Tommy die. Sam Jones.
“For as you have both consented in wedlock and have acknowledged it before God and this company, I do by virtue of the authority vested in me by the Catholic Church and the laws of this state now pronounce you husband and wife.”
The priest made the sign of the cross over the young couple and, sobbing next to Teddy, Louisa Carella suddenly said, “Now I have another married daughter,” and she took Teddy’s hand and kissed it quickly and fervently.
Tommy lifted his bride’s veil and kissed her fleetingly and with much embarrassment. The organ music started again. Smiling, the veil pulled back onto the white crown nestled in her hair, Angela clutched Tommy’s arm and they started up the aisle, the photographer recording every inch of their progress.
In the rectory, the telephone began ringing.
The nun in the rectory held the door open for Steve Carella as he stepped into the small room. Standing by the telephone in the robes he’d worn during the ceremony, Father Paul said, “I knew it’d take a wedding to get you into the church,
“She’s beautiful,” Louisa said, and Teddy nodded, her eyes brimming.
The organ music swelled to drown out the sound of the joyful weeping, the “Ooooohs” and “Ahhhhs” which heralded the bride’s steady regal progress down the aisle. The flash bulbs popped as the photographer busily kept his shutter clicking. Tony Carella, his bent arm supporting the trembling hand of his daughter, walked down the aisle with the dignity of a monarch about to be crowned, certain that the twitching of his left eye was not visible to anyone in the pews.
In the first pew on the bride’s half of the church, Steve Carella sat alongside his wife and chewed his lip.
Somebody sawed through that rod end, he thought. This was no damn black widow joke. This was serious business.
Angela climbed the steps to the altar. Tommy smiled at her, and she returned the smile, and then lowered her eyes behind the pale white veil.
And whoever did the sawing was well aware of that steep hill and that sharp turn. Whoever did it probably sawed it through just far enough to know it would snap when the turn was attempted.
Tony Carella handed his daughter to his soon-to-be-son. Together, the couple faced the priest. The church was still with the solemnity of the occasion.
Tommy saw something glinting on the driveway as we pulled out, Carella thought. Probably metal filings from the sawed rod. The rod is thin. Ten minutes with a hack saw could have done a very fine job on it. And Sam Jones was gone for a half-hour walk. And Sam Jones had dirt on the knees of his trousers. And it was Sam Jones who gave the driver permission to leave the limousine in search of a cup of coffee.
The priest said a prayer and then blessed the couple with holy water. Tommy was sweating profusely. Beneath the white veil, Angela’s lips were trembling.
“Do you, Thomas Giordano,” the priest said, “take this woman as your lawfully wedded wife to live together in the state of holy matrimony? Will you love, honor and keep her as a faithful man is bound to do, in health, sickness, prosperity, and adversity, and forsaking all others keep you alone unto her ‘til death do you part?”
Tommy swallowed hard. “Yes,” he said. “I do.”
“Do you, Angela Louisa Carella, take this man as your lawfully wedded husband to live together in the state of holymatrimony? Will you love, honor and cherish him as a faithful woman is bound to do, in health, sickness…”
And it was Sam Jones, Carella thought, who conveniently stepped out of the automobile to buy a package of cigarettes just before the crash.
“… prosperity and adversity, and forsaking all others keep you alone unto him ‘til death do you part?”
“I do,” Angela whispered.
It is also Sam Jones, best man and best friend, who is named in Tommy’s will, who gets everything Tommy owns should Tommy die. Sam Jones.
“For as you have both consented in wedlock and have acknowledged it before God and this company, I do by virtue of the authority vested in me by the Catholic Church and the laws of this state now pronounce you husband and wife.”
The priest made the sign of the cross over the young couple and, sobbing next to Teddy, Louisa Carella suddenly said, “Now I have another married daughter,” and she took Teddy’s hand and kissed it quickly and fervently.
Tommy lifted his bride’s veil and kissed her fleetingly and with much embarrassment. The organ music started again. Smiling, the veil pulled back onto the white crown nestled in her hair, Angela clutched Tommy’s arm and they started up the aisle, the photographer recording every inch of their progress.
In the rectory, the telephone began ringing.
The nun in the rectory held the door open for Steve Carella as he stepped into the small room. Standing by the telephone in the robes he’d worn during the ceremony, Father Paul said, “I knew it’d take a wedding to get you into the church,
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