Minding Frankie - Maeve Binchy [138]
“Those aren’t hills, they’re mountains,” Dr. Hat said reprovingly. “It’s very important to know that.”
“I’m sorry.” Emily laughed. “But then what can you expect from a foreigner, an outsider.”
“You’re not an outsider. Your heart is here,” Dr. Hat said, and he looked at her oddly again. “Or I very much hope it is.”
Michael started to hum tunelessly to himself as he gazed out the window. Dr. Hat and Emily ignored him and raised their voices.
“Oh, Hat, you feel safe enough saying that to me in front of Michael as a sort of joke.”
“I was never as serious in my life. I do hope your heart is in Ireland. I’d hate it if you went away.”
“Why, exactly?”
“Because you are very interesting and you get things done. I was beginning to drift and you halted that. I’m more of a man since I met you.”
Michael’s humming got louder, as if he were trying to drown them out.
“You are?” shouted Emily. “Well, I feel more of a woman since I met you, so that has to be good somehow.”
“I never married because I never met anyone who didn’t bore me before. I’d like … I’d like you to …”
“To do what?” Emily asked. Michael’s humming was now almost deafening.
“Oh, stop it, Michael,” Emily begged. “Hat is trying to say something, that’s all.”
“He’s said it,” Michael said. “He’s asked you to marry him. Now just say yes, will you.”
Emily looked at Hat for some clarity. Hat drew the car to a slow stop and got out. He went around to the passenger side, opened Emily’s door and knelt in the heather and gorse on the Wicklow Mountains.
“Emily, will you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?” he asked.
“Why didn’t you ask me before?”
“I was so afraid you’d say no and that we’d lose the comfortable feeling of being friends. I was just afraid.”
“Don’t be afraid anymore.” She touched him gently on the side of his face. “I’d love to marry you.”
“Thanks be to God,” said Michael. “We can have the picnic now!”
Emily and Dr. Hat decided that there was no reason for delay at their age; they would marry when Betsy and Eric were in Ireland. This way Betsy would get to be matron of honor and Michael would be best man. They could be married by Father Flynn in his church. The twins would do the catering and they could all go on honeymoon, with Dingo driving them, to the west.
Emily didn’t want an engagement ring. She said she would prefer a nice solid-looking wedding ring and just that. Dr. Hat was almost skittish with good humor, and for the first time in his life he agreed to go to a tailor and have a made-to-measure suit. He would get a new hat to match it and promised to take it off in the church for the ceremony as long as it could be restored for the photographs.
Betsy was almost squeaking with excitement in her e-mails.
And he proposed to you in the car in front of this other man, Michael? This is amazing, Emily, even for you. And you’re going to be living around the corner from your cousins!
But can I ask, why is he called Hat? Is it short for Hathaway or was there an Irish St. Hat?
Nothing would surprise me.
Love from your elderly matron-of-honor-to-be,
Betsy
Emily still managed all her various jobs: she tended window boxes, she did her stints in the surgery, she stood behind the counter in the thrift shop—which was where she found her wedding outfit. It arrived from a shop that was about to close down. There were a number of pieces that had been display items, and the owner said she would get nothing for them and it was better they went to some charity.
Emily was hanging them up carefully on a rail when she saw it. A silk dress with a navy and pale-blue flower pattern and a matching jacket in navy with a small trim of the dress material on the jacket collar. It was perfect: elegant and feminine and wedding-like.
Carefully, Emily put the sum of money she would have hoped to get for it into the till and brought it home straightaway.
Josie saw her coming through the house.
“The very woman,” Josie said. “Will you have a cup of tea?”
“A quick one, then. I don’t want to