The hour comes, the crowd awaits, and the groom impatiently stands at the altar, but Troy chooses not to attend the wedding – and she’s the bride!

Elopement for One

Mr. Jefferson Phillip Richards

requests the honour of your presence

at the marriage of his daughter

Patricia Troy

to

Mr. Eric Garth Townsend,

Saturday, the seventh of April,

nineteen hundred and fifty-six,

at half past seven in the evening

All Saints Chapel

Dallas, Texas

“Zarah, this wedding isn’t going to happen.” Troy Richards grasped the phone so tightly her knuckles pressed white through the lace of her gloves.

“Oh, no, honey, it’s not going to rain again this evening. Nothing is going to ruin the most spectacular wedding Dallas has seen this year.”

“Zarah! Listento me.” Troy bit hard on her lip to keep from screaming in frustration. Her pulses hammered in her temples and the phone felt sticky even through her gloves. “I am notgoing to marry Eric, not tonight, not ever!” Mouth dry, her words stuck in her throat.

“You all hold it down a little, can you?” Zarah’s words drifted away from the phone, muffled by the chatter and laughter in the background. “Hang on, Troy. The noise in here is drowning you out. Let me slide into the bathroom so I can hear you.”

Troy fidgeted, tugging at the acres of lace pooling around her, drawing shallow breaths and closing her eyes against her multiple images glinting in the mirrored room.

Zarah’s calmer tones came through with less background hubbub than a moment earlier. “All right, you kinda left it to the last minute, but you came to your senses, did you?”

Troy sank into the cushioned bench in relief. Zarah did understand, after all. “I’ve been trying to call it off for a week, but Daddy and Eric kept patting me on the head and nattering about ‘bridal jitters.’ Nobodyheard me.” A shiver of panic colored her words.

The phone picked up Zarah’s sigh. “So give me the game plan. What part do I play? I don’t know what I can do, short of kidnapping Eric at gunpoint.” Through the receiver Troy heard the swish of fabric and tapping at a door. In a firm tone Zarah called, “I’ve got a jittery bride here, girls. She’s just sure it’s gonna rain toads and terrapins all over her wedding this evening. Give me a minute to get her calmed down.” Relative silence followed the sound of a door closing. “Now, you have some kind of plan? Talk quick, I don’t know how long I can keep Loco and Critter out of here.”

Troy shuddered at Zarah’s use of the family nicknames of Eric’s younger twin sisters, the pretty but featherbrained Loretta Coreen and Coretta Loreen. “All I want you to do is delay the limo that’s picking up the three of you for half an hour or so. Spill something, break a heel on your shoe, whatever it takes to tie things up for a little bit, long enough for me to call for a taxi and slip out the back door of the pastor’s office.”

“You’re going to get changed and out of there in half an hour with the wedding planner and the photographer hanging on to you every minute?” Zarah sounded doubtful.

“The wedding planner is out with the photographer trying to find the setting I wanted for the pictures. Since that corner of the church parlor is full of stuff for the kids’ party tomorrow evening, they’re going to be occupied for a little while moving things around. I can’t unfasten this dress by myself, but I think I can get out the back door without anyone seeing me. All I need is a car and driver. Pray a taxi can get here in time.”

“Our Troy engages in another harebrained adventure.” Zarah’s tone came across the wire with wry resignation. “Don’t worry about getting a taxi there, Troy. It’s too undependable. It might come too late or not come to the right door. I’ll get someone over there to pick you up. You just get yourself out of there. And thank heaven you decided to do it before the wedding march started. I’d hate to take on your dad and Eric that late in the day. Make your dash to freedom in about fifteen minutes.”

Fifteen minutes? Troy peeled the lace away from her wrist to check the diamond-rimmed watch beneath it. She had time to leave the note for Eric and stuff the skirt, blouse and toiletries scattered around the bride’s room into her train case. With luck, she’d slip into the dim hallway that led to the back offices of the church and get out of the church unseen. Troy dropped the phone back into its cradle. Dear Zee, always ready for the next escapade, no matter how bizarre.

Troy gave the pink-and-gold room one last look. Have I done everything?By insisting that the wedding planner help her with wedding portraits in private two hours before the ceremony and without the rest of the bridal party, Troy had secured a brief window of time for her escape. Now that her moment had come, she had a flutter of panic. Could she pull off this half-baked scheme? Somehow she had to. This time the need was critical. One more look around the room assured her that all her belongings were back in the fitted compartments of her train case. She tucked a note, as much explanation as she’d managed to write the night before, into the frame of the dressing table mirror. Trembling a little, Troy tugged off her glove, pulled the elaborate solitaire from her left hand and slid it back into the velvet box, leaving it on the glass-topped dressing table. In relief she released the breath she’d been holding. She’d done it. Now she only had to maneuver the long back hallway unseen and reach the office and its private door to the courtyard.

Her car keys? She made sure she had them where she could get to them. Yes, they gleamed inside the tiny beaded bag appropriate for a bride’s lipstick and powder puff on her wedding day. Troy shook the cumbersome swirl of lace skirts loose, hauled the swaddling cathedral train over her arm and peeped into the dim hall. She saw no one, heard no sound of steps approaching. Catching the handle of her one bag and the chain-link strap of her purse, she took her first step away from Eric and a life she couldn’t face.

The dark carpet of the hallway muffled any sound from her satin pumps and her rustling skirts. Troy pushed aside a futile wish that she’d been able to get out of the weighty gown. Without its unmanageable folds, she could fly down the hall in seconds, secure in the knowledge that she’d made no sound to reveal her presence. The one hundred and forty tiny buttons that had to be done up one by one with a special hook made it impossible to unfasten the gown without help. So she had to flee the event it symbolized while still a prisoner of its massive skirts and draperies. The veil, three tiers of English silk illusion edged in wide Chantilly lace, was almost as burdensome, but she’d managed to stuff its misty clouds into a wad, wrapping the train over it. It pulled at the elaborate ringlets pinned and sprayed into an immovable mass on her head. She knew if she tried to loosen it in her haste she’d likely tear her hair out by the roots. She’d have to endure the headgear a little longer.

Troy scuttled the length of the hallway, fearing any moment the wedding director would find her or some earnest church employee would insist on helping her back to the bride’s room. Another ten feet, then five, inches now, yes, the big brass door handle was in her hand. What if it was locked? Oh, no! It mustn’t be! Troy, tense, her mouth as dry as her palms were damp, tugged and the door came back on silent hinges. Not locked after all!

Troy slipped into the pastor’s dim office, thankful for the long drapes that cut off afternoon light and any view a passerby might have of the people inside. She leaned against the door a moment, letting her thudding heart slow and her nerves settle. Now to get out the door to the courtyard, through the garden, and find whatever transportation Zarah had been able to arrange. Some movement caught her eye. She froze before she could take another step. The high-backed chair behind the desk revolved slowly to face forward. Someone was in the office!

“Well, I thought I was going to be forced to come find you, Troy.” Coming from the shadows the low voice sounded amused and a little exasperated.

Troy slumped in relief. “Zach?” Surprise almost robbed her of speech. “Zach, what are you doing here? You weren’t even coming to the wedding. You had a trial or something in Santa Rita, and you couldn’t leave.”

“The trial wrapped up early.” The figure in the chair gave a short laugh. “Where would I be when my sister calls and tells me ‘our Troy’ has a crisis and needs a fast horse or a long rope to get her out of it? I’m the cavalry again.” She heard a subtle emphasis on the last word. “I take it the wedding is off?”

“It’s off if I can get away from here before Daddy or Eric catches on,” Troy answered, pulling her skirts closer and heading for the door. “If you’re the cavalry, could we get the escape underway and talk about it later?”

Zach shoved the chair back and circled around the massive desk. “I have my car parked at the end of the garden. We’ll have to go down the walkway through the oleanders to get to it without being seen. Can you make it that far in that pile of whipped cream you’re wearing?”

“I can run through briars and over plowed fields if I have to.” A second wave of panic fluttered in her voice. Troy fought to cover it with a small laugh. “I don’t think this is an auspicious day for a wedding.”

Zach took the train case from her and helped her untangle the skirts that caught on chair arms, small tables and the corner of the desk as she passed. He held the door so she could manage the froth that threatened to trip her. An expanse of fitted stones led to arching trees and a blooming church garden. Troy ducked under a low branch heavy with white blossoms as Zach hurried ahead to pull away stray twigs that threatened to hold her back. The tall flowering trees made perfect camouflage for her billowing ivory skirts. As long as she and Zach stayed within the sheltering wall of shrubbery, they would be virtually invisible.

At the end of the path Troy saw Zach’s blue and white Bel Air. She tried to hurry, but flounces of lace tangled around her ankles, slowing her down. Frustrated by the hampering folds, she tore at the ruffles.

“It’s okay, little girl,” Zach told her, almost as if he understood her agitation. “We’ll get you out of here. Don’t fight so hard. The more you try to hurry, the more that garb holds you back.”

Panting, Troy reached the car. Once he had the back door open, Zach wadded the train and veil and stuffed it into the back seat as if it were a bundle of laundry. He held Troy’s hands as she slid into the seat, then shoved the remains of the dress in around her.

“You’d better duck down in the seat till we get out of here, Troy. I don’t think anyone is around, but you may have been missed by now. Keep low till we’re well away from the church.” He slammed her door, opened his own and slid behind the wheel. “Okay, where am I taking you, kiddo? What’s the plan? I hope you’ve thought this out better than you usually do, because all hell’s going to break loose the minute Eric and your dad find you’re gone.”

Troy pushed a wave of lace out of her face. “Get me over to the country club. My car’s parked there.”

The Bel Air started. With her face buried in a mound of tulle, Troy felt rather than saw the car roll over gravel as the machine backed up and turned.

“Right. I take you to the country club, you get the Red Bomb, and then go where? A pretty blonde in a wedding gown driving a screaming-red Alfa isn’t exactly invisible, sweetheart. Where are you going once you get your car?”

Troy drew a shaky breath. “I didn’t precisely plan that far,” she admitted in a small voice.

Zach looked over his shoulder. Turning her face so it wasn’t buried in ruffled silk, she could see him shaking his head, frustration in his dark eyes. “And why am I not surprised? You have about fifteen minutes to come up with an answer, Patricia Troy Richards. That’s what it will take to transport one runaway bride from the church to the country club parking lot. Otherwise you might just as well stay here, marry Eric, and let him and your dad dictate every day of the rest of your life.” He turned away, exasperation vibrating in his tone and attitude. “Tell me what you want to do when we get there.”

The road rumbled under her and the blocks slipped away much too fast for Troy’s peace of mind. Where could she go? How long could she escape her father, her fiancé, and their combined determination? Her mind whirled with strategies considered and rejected, her temples pounding with the panic that threatened to stop all thought. Zach was right. If she didn’t have some kind of plan once she got to the car, she might just as well have stayed and gone through with the wedding. She wouldn’t do that, couldn’t face that kind of future.

“Country club coming up in about three minutes, Troy.” Zach’s announcement cut through her scrabbling thoughts. “Is your car in the front lot or the back?”

“The back one, near the third hole of the golf course,” she told him. A numbing dread had settled in, and her mind floundered to come up with a new scheme. Why hadn’t she planned this out better? Where could she go?

“Right. I see it down near the tree line,” Zach reported.

A moment later the car rolled to a stop and Zach climbed out to hold the door for her. He caught her elbow to help her scramble out of the back seat. Troy untangled herself as best she could, shaking the lace and silk tulle of her skirts free, settling petticoats and trying to adjust the massive veil.

“Got it figured out yet, Troy?” Zach’s black eyes had a bland, questioning look.

Troy shook her head. “No, I just, I guess, I…” Her voice dried in her throat. The situation looked impossible. “I guess I just have to go home and face the music.”

“Have you decided you want to marry Eric after all?” Zach leaned with loose nonchalance against the car.

“No! Absolutely not! Not a chance. I do not want to marry Eric.” Troy put all the emphasis she could summon on each word.

“If you go back home, I can guarantee that by the time the ten o’clock news comes on tonight you’ll be Mrs. Eric Townsend. Your dad and your jilted groom will have you in front of the preacher before your shoes hit the front hall. Do you doubt it?”

Misery stinging her eyes with unshed tears, Troy knew the truth in his words. “I can’t stand up to both of them. But where else can I go?” She stopped a minute. “I could go to Zarah’s little apartment. I know she’s moving at the end of the week, but I could stay there a few days till I figure out what to do next.”

Zach snorted. “Don’t you realize that’s about the first place anyone would look? Your best friend’s house? And don’t you think you’ve involved my sister as much as is reasonable in this mess of yours? If your dad discovers she helped you, he’ll be mad as two hornets. Do you want to drag her in further?”

She had put Zee in a wretched position, Troy realized. It wouldn’t be right to draw her any deeper. In a small voice, her folly now too big to deny, she answered, “I don’t know, Zach. I don’t know what to do. I can’t go home, I can’t ask Zee to let me stay with her, I just can’t think.” Blinded by hopeless tears, she tugged at the veil that kept slipping over her eyes. “I guess I can check into a hotel for a few days. Give myself time to think this through.”

Zach laughed out loud. “In that mound of frou-frou and wearing enough makeup for a Broadway chorus line? You’d be about as invisible as a showgirl in a convent.”

A change of clothes, that was something she could fix. Troy straightened her shoulders and pulled herself erect. “Then I’d better get rid of the wedding finery.” She started for the red sports car behind the Bel Air.

“And to do that?” Zach blocked her way.

“To do that I’m going to Champagne! and get changed. I have the skirt and blouse I wore to the church. At the shop I can get the goo out of my hair and put on real clothes while I try to come up with some reasonable plan.”

“Your dad’s dress shop? You don’t think someone will look for you there?”

“It’s the safest place I can think of. It’s closed and there won’t be a soul there. And it gives me time to think.”

Zach nodded. “That at least has some practical merit. Let’s get you into the car. Thank goodness you have the hardtop on. You’ll be less visible. Take the back way. I’ll be right behind you.”

“You’re coming with me?”

Zach helped wad her gown and veil into the narrow space of her two-seater. “The shop’s closed, you said? And no one will be there to help you out of that ghastly dress? I think I’d better go along or you’ll still be trying to get out of it when the shop opens Monday morning.”