[K][T] and Family Ch. 07

I envy Siobhan that gown. I simply cannot wear violet or purple as a principle color, even though I love it. Siobhan has the perfect coloration. Christine took pictures while I pulled out my gift. I showed them to everyone, before giving them to the stylist. He needed to redo part of his work to display the hairpins properly, but clearly did not mind. He managed to use the red in the lacquer to highlight the ruby ear studs she was wearing. It is nice to work with professionals.

The effect was lovely. I doubt if Siobhan really believed us until we brought her to a full length mirror. That is one image I did get, though I rarely show it. Siobhan's shock is too dramatic to seem real. There were tears and hugs all around. When we were composed again, I gave Francine and Christine their gifts. Francine loved the kabuki makeup. As I expected, the gender bending appealed to her. She laughed and we hugged.

Christine's gifts were easily the least valuable and the easiest to obtain. The gift was not the item, but the thought behind it. Clichés, about thoughtful gifts arise when the gifts fall flat. Christine was making me nervous. I had wrapped the gifts in a simple bag and tissue. Francine had opened hers and gone through her full reaction while Christine stood and stared at the bag in her hand.

Siobhan was ahead of me. It can be easy to miss in her general brashness, but Siobhan has a trained observer's gift for patience. She was watching Christine intently. In a moment, even Francine noticed our silence, though Christine did not. Her attention was fully on the gift in her hand.

She handled the gift bag as if it contained a poisonous snake. First Christine pulled the tissue away with her fingertips. Then she stretched her neck to look inside. Finally she slowly reached in and extracted the sunglasses and lipstick. I imagine Siobhan and Francine looked confused, but my attention was on Christine's face. First her nose wrinkled, then her lip twitched. In one motion her face broke, she threw her arms around my neck and started to cry.

I have only small clues what was behind those tears, but it all came out. I held her close and she cried in body shaking sobs. After the shaking stopped, she still clung, so I held her close and stroked her hair. Siobhan looked detached and academic, but Francine looked lost. When we finally separated, I told them, "These represent a promise. I will provide for her needs in body and spirit." In order, I gestured at the sun glasses and the lipstick.

Siobhan nodded immediately. Francine took only a moment longer. I have mentioned that they are both quite intelligent. Then we all hugged each other again. In my ear, Siobhan whispered, "You know I'm insanely jealous. I hope you let me borrow her on occasion." Christine heard and swatted Siobhan on the back of the head, or at least as high as she could reach. It was hilarious. We degenerated into giggling girls, until the male in the room cleared his throat. We all attempted death by embarrassment, then broke out laughing again.

After some more repair work, we went to the ball.

Sean:

The Carousal was wonderful, but all things must end and our time was limited. Sheila and I had a plane to catch. Allowing for travel time and security, we needed to leave no later than 9 o'clock. It was one reason I asked for a very short ceremony. The only thing I told Sheila was that we had a hard time limit and when we needed to be where.

After the ride, the girls went back to the house en masse. As had happened all day, I was left with unscheduled time. It was a strange feeling. I had no idea how I would react to the beaches in the South Pacific or the ski slopes in New Zealand. I pulled out my phone to check the weather forecast.

Kwajalein Island is equatorial, so the only important weather is tropical storms. None were on the horizon. It was early for skiing in New Zealand, but there was a usable snow pack and an early winter storm expected in three days. Hopefully it would drop a foot of snow for us to use. If not, we might never leave the beginner slopes. I suspected Sheila had been born on skis, but did not know it yet. My skill level is more meager.

The subject of skiing gave me something to discuss with Lars Gunter. Like myself, he was more a fan than a participant, though he knew the basics. In Germany, skiing is at least as popular a spectator sport as baseball in the USA. I told him I did not envy him showing Jo how to buckle her boots. His triple take spoke volumes of his intentions.

Curtis was still with us, so I decided a sandwich was in order. We went to the security stall. I had a simple pastrami and swiss in mind, but decided on a Reuben to get Lars' reaction. Curtis asked for Cuban pressed and Herr Gunter asked for Italian cold cuts and and provolone. It turned out he did not have a taste for kraut. How ironic.

Damn Skippy. If I was to guess, he would be discouraged to marry in his current career path, but such things would not be new. Proper handling was important and Jo's pedigree would turn heads. No wonder he kept referring to her as Frau Doktor. It would give her standing in her own right. My first thought was to have him meet Gerald, so I cued my Bluetooth and offered a whiskey. If Gerald couldn't figure that out, I was paying him too much.

Along the way I shook more hands than a politician. Everyone congratulated me on a lovely wedding, but I noticed their eyes were on the fair. As we neared the house, that changed. Outside the Ballroom the attendees were older and more respectable. I told several men about the smoking lounge and women about the Library and Parlor.

There is a way to enter the main house without going through the Ballroom, but we were not using it. This made for a crowd blocking the doors. I whispered a suggestion to security. They assured me that they were already working on it. Sure enough, I spotted two of my pairs directing traffic. Gerald met us just inside the door to the hall.

Gerald had twenty years in the Army and it showed. He was senior to me my whole time in service, yet he damn near comes to attention when he reports. That is not a detail someone like Herr Gunter is likely to miss and he didn't. When Gerald came up, I introduced him to Herr Gunter, who drew himself to full height and gave a stiff nod. Gerald acknowledged the nod, but stayed on alert.

The two circled like rivals dogs. Since the female in question was my kid sister, this left me with a dilemma - protect or not. Both were minefields. I resolved it by reciting both of their military accomplishments. If Lars was surprised that I knew his background, he gave no sign. I chose to think it was expected. We went into the foyer and waited for drinks at the bar.

I was proud of my whiskey. No aficionado would call it Irish, but the kinship was there. Added to cooked sweet cream, it outdid Baileys and went wonderfully with strong coffee. This "Irish" coffee was proving a hit. I ordered mine with an extra shot poured in. Gerald was on duty, so he followed the old tradition of getting water on the side - then drinking the water. Curtis had his with ice and soda, then excused himself for the smoker's lounge.

Herr Gunter watched all this with interest. His own drink was simply whiskey on rocks, but he handled it with practiced ease. Before drinking, he examined the color and clarity, then took a good sniff. After his first sip, he held up the glass and inclined his head. Interestingly, he asked about the ice, which earned him a point in my book. Glacial ice has almost no air mixed in. It barely floats and melts slowly. I had a hundredweight shipped in for this event.

We had no chance to make small talk, because I was the host and standing near the exit. Much handshaking was required. However, Gerald and Lars stayed nearby, talking about something. At least the early stiffness had not escalated to open hostility. Before things got too tedious, Jo's head appeared above the crowd.

Have you ever noticed that there are four musketeers in Dumas' book: Athos, Porthos, Aramis and d'Artagnan? When I saw the ladies approaching, I was reminded of that fact. The characters were not at all parallel. For example, which would be Aramis, who eventually became a priest? I suppose Francine could be Athos, the father figure, but who would be Porthos, the dandy and ladies man? Christine as d'Artagnan? Please spare me.

In any event, it was show time. Sheila came up and kissed me. Christine pulled Francine toward the ballroom. That left Jo facing Herr Gunter and Gerald. The look on both their faces was priceless. Sheila sent both of them pictures. Even in her dancing heels, it swept the floor. Jo carries some extra weight, but the corset kept that under control. With her hair done up and great gran's ruby ear studs, Jo was every inch the lady.

Jo's gown was pale lavender or purple. The color had to have been chosen with Army dress greens in mind. I went perfectly with Gerald's uniform. They could not have known what color Herr Gunter would wear, but gray or blue were good bets. Lars wore a navy chalk stripe. The gown went even better with that. You may have seen pictures.

Jo has a lot of inches, but Lars Gunter had more. He came fully to attention, clicked his heels and nodded formally. When he offered to take her hand, Jo blushed and extended it. Lars kissed her knuckles and Jo, swear to God, curtsied. In all the time I have known Gerald, I have never seen him more shocked, nor was he alone. Two of our grad student/security pairs were near by. Mouths dropped open.

Jo clearly was aware of the stares she was getting. She flushed clear to the neck line of her gown and probably further. However, her posture was ramrod straight as Lars began to lead her toward the Ballroom. Jo stopped him and gestured to Gerald. I could not hear what she said, but Gerald's bet with Sheila had to be part of it. Jo will cut your crow into bite sized bits and feed it to you.

As they left, Sheila pulled close. I looked over. If you want to think in paradigms, my towering sister had a man to look up to. I had one who was exactly my height, when she wore heels. Thinking of her wearing nothing but heels, I leaned over and nibbled her ear. I said, "That went well." Sheila is more practical.

She addressed our audience, "The Show is over. Get back to work." That's my girl.