ila was a distressing lady. Ma would subtly hint that I should look at brains as well as beauty when referring to Lila. My grandma was less subtle and would say outright that Lila had naught but air in her head. Yet I dismissed their cautious words about my lady love each time I stared into her sea blue eyes, and watched her sashay by with her wavy brown hair dancing upon her small round shoulders. And the way she talked, her southern drawl just about curled your toes with pleasure. Lila had to be experienced rather than studied, for once she gave you one of them soft kisses -- who cared if she had air in her head. I didn't, until our wedding day.

She drew out our engagement for more than a year, and during that time she flirted with every young man, and no few older men, in the county. She seemed to think, with what little thinking she was capable of, that she was too beautiful to settle down with just one farm boy. It didn't matter that I owned nearly four-hundred acres of bottom land, or that I had plenty of other young ladies who considered me a "real catch" as Ma liked to remind me. In spite of my rather average looks, with my dark hair and eyes and skin that turned near as brown as an Indian's when out in the sun, and my long, rather lanky frame. Yet despite having the means to support a woman and the ability to read and write and put together a proper sentence or two -- when I must -- Lila never saw me as much of a catch. So I pretty near begged and pleaded till she was plum worn out and agreed to get hitched. But like I said, she weren't in no hurry about it.

Well, the wedding day came, and arrived, and was here, and everything was ready except for one thing -- Lila. Now I'm not given to a bad temper, nor am I a terribly impatient man, keep in mind I'd already been patient for more than a year, and that patience included putting up with a lot of fellows ogling Lila and she ogling them back. So here stood the Preacher, and the bride's maids, my Ma and Grandma -- Pa died six years previous -- and several young ladies who couldn't help but enjoy a wedding, and some young fellows who couldn't help but go where the young ladies were at. I had plenty of flowers, three fiddle players, and a table laid with food and some of the best liquor ever distilled in the mountains, but no Lila. My Ma was no help. She said:

"You see Missy Wheeler there," she said, pointing to a strawberry blonde with big dimples and slightly big everything else, "she's gonna be a school teacher, smartest girl I know of. I bet the man who marries her will have some highly intelligent children. And I bet she'd be on time for her wedding"

"Good heavens, Ma, can't you see I've enough distress without you bewailing my bride-to-be," I said.

"I heard Missy say that she has had a crush on you since you were children," my Ma said, paying no never mind to my words. "Yes, that girl would have married you in an instant if you'd have asked her. You notice she even made it to your wedding though you didn't ask her to come."

"I bet I can guess who did ask her to come," I said, throwing my mother an angry look. For now I was getting bitterly angry. The folks around were past restless and wondering if there was going to be a wedding. Someone said aloud, "Don't look like Lila's gonna make it!"

I fumed and fretted and near wore the heels off my boots kicking at the plank floor. I looked at the roof pleadin' the Lord's intervention to save me from humiliation, then looked at the floor and cursed Lila for an air-headed ninny. I looked up as Sam Baker drew near. He stepped forward and whispered in my ear. Now I don't cuss much out loud, especially in the presence of the Preacher and most of our church congregation who'd gathered for the wedding. Yet when a friend tells you that your wife-to-be is down at the creek skinny dipping with the most no 'count man in town, and you are standing at the altar with a gathering of family and friends looking at you -- why I'd had enough.

Some folks will tell you that decisions made in anger are always bad and will come back to haunt you. Yet in my rage and frustration I made the best decision of my life that day. I turned and looked down at Missy Wheeler and said:

"Missy, you see we have a Preacher here ready to give a wedding, and a nice gathering of townsfolk to boot. I expect I've made some foolish choices in my twenty years on this earth, but I hope to make a good one today. Missy, are you willing to marry me, right here and now?"

Her face flushed for a moment or two, but that gal got right up, walked up to me, planted a kiss on my lips, took my left hand, turned to the Preacher and said:

"We are ready to get married."

I might have been angry when Lila finally showed up for the wedding reception except that she was boiling over with anger and embarrassment. She walked up to me and slapped me hard on the face, but then Missy punched Lila in the nose, and it started to bleed, and Lila ran off screaming. Boy that was some wedding. It got talked about for years after. And Missy, well she was a right good wife, and like my Ma predicted -- she raised us some smart children.

The End