Stowaway

The bouquet was made up of six red roses with just a whisper of baby’s breath, held together by a bright blue ribbon tied in a bow. It was even more beautiful because of its simplicity. The bride grasped the bouquet tightly, as if it would keep her knees from buckling beneath her as she walked down the aisle toward the man she would marry.

As the groom watched his bride walking toward him, a gentle smile played across his lips, his wink let her know he shared and understood her nervousness. When the bride reached out, the groom took her gloved hand, watching her tiny fingers disappear inside his larger ones. His strength helped calm his bride, as together they walked up the three steps to where the priest waited.

As Father Gilford droned on, the guests fidgeted in their seats, children cried, refusing to stay seated, constantly trying their parent’s patience. The older relatives napped, heads bobbing up and down as they lost their battle with the sand man. Bobby Joe remained awake, biding his time, waiting for just the right moment to implement his devious plan.
As soon as Grandma Heim closed her eyes, Bobby Joe reached inside his jacket and pulled out Wicket. Bobby Joe rescued the weasel-like animal from Rosie’s Pet Shop in nearby Grimsville. Every time he went inside Rosie’s store, the ferret seemed to beg Bobby Joe to release him from his prison. Bobby Joe asked Grandma Heim if he could buy Wicket, but she said no. Grandma Heim thought ferrets were kin to possums and she hated possums.

Since Bobby Joe didn’t have the money to buy Wicket, he decided to help the ferret escape. He waited until Miss Rosie was busy with a customer. He opened the cage as quietly as possible, while keeping one eye trained on Miss Rosie, hiding Wicket inside his shirt. Bobby Joe closed the cage and wandered around the store, playing with a few kittens, patting a collie puppy on the head, making sure to smile and tell Miss Rosie goodbye before calmly closing the door behind them. Wicket was free.
That was a month ago; today Bobby Joe was sending Wicket on a mission. His sister, Mary, was standing at the alter making the worst mistake of her life. She was going to marry William Abbott, the president of First City Bank. He was twenty years her senior and a real stuffed shirt. Bobby Joe had to stop his sister before it was too late. Bobby Joe and Wicket spent hours practicing; now it was time to see if Wicket could pull off their plan.

Bobby Joe looked toward Grandma Heim to make sure she was still napping. Her faint snore assured him she was. Scanning the nearby guests, Bobby Joe confirmed no one was watching before loosing the beast. Wicket raced through feet resting under the front pew, made his way along the hems of the wide skirts worn by the bridesmaids, and slipped beneath the multiple layers of the bride’s long gown. He peaked out from the front of the skirt, rolled over onto his back, and shinnied up the dangling ribbons of the bouquet.

When his front claws were attached to the bouquet of roses, Wicket nipped Mary’s thumb, not hard enough to draw blood, just hard enough to make her scream and let go. At that point, Wicket’s plan went awry. Instead of dropping the bouquet on the nice soft carpet, Mary flung the red roses over her head. It was as if the church were filled with single women fighting for the right to get married next. Yet this time, no one tried to catch the bouquet, it fell hard on the top of the last pew before making three bounces across the carpet, finally coming to a stop on the hard marble of the lobby. All eyes were on the bouquet as it raced through the open church doors and disappeared down the front steps.

The bouquet leapt onto Tiny’s back. Tiny was one of a matched pair of white horses waiting to pull the carriage that would take the new bride and her husband to their wedding reception. When the bouquet’s claws dug into Tiny’s withers, he tried to shake it free. Tiny jumped, bucked, turned sideways, even tried twisting his head around to bite the prickly bouquet, but he only succeeded in making his twin angry. Timmy, thinking Tiny was being a brat about pulling a carriage, nipped Tiny on the neck and again on the shoulder. Tiny took off like a thoroughbred racer, dragging Timmy and the carriage along with him. The entire wedding party watched open-mouthed as the bouquet rode off into the sunset. Bobbie Joe’s plan was a success. Mary was convinced her runaway bouquet was a bad omen and called off the wedding.
Unfortunately, Bobby Joe didn’t tell Wicket when to stop, so Wicket just kept on going. Finally winded, Tiny came to a stop two blocks from the Greyhound Bus terminal. Wicket headed for the nearest bus to New York City, still disguised by the runaway bouquet. The passengers were too busy finding seats to notice Wicket snuggled up under the driver’s seat.

The next morning, Wicket was awakened by the driver announcing their arrival in the city. As the bus door opened, Wicket charged forward, almost knocking down an old lady picking up her purse. When she saw the bouquet running across her path, she promptly screamed and then fainted, her voluminous body blocking the exit. The unplanned distraction allowed Wicket to get away without notice.

Peeking through the rose petals, Wicket toured the city. Strange how no one paid attention to the runaway bouquet. Tired and hungry, Wicket found himself walking toward New York Harbor. Once there he didn’t see any food, but there was a passenger ship at the dock, which surely carried food for hungry travelers. Wicket made his way toward the gang plank; however there were too many people to board unnoticed. Searching for another way aboard, Wicket spied a huge rope tied around a bollard on the pier, reaching upward all the way to the deck of the huge ocean liner. Wicket climbed the rope.

As he dropped onto the ship’s deck, Wicket was startled by a voice behind him, “Psst. This way. Quick!”

Before Wicket could decide if the voice was generated by friend or foe, the sound of heavy footsteps sent him scurrying for cover beneath a nearby deck chair. Beside Wicket was a fat, brown rat.

As soon as the human danger passed, Wicket turned to see if the rat posed any threat. “Thanks,” Wicket said. “My name is Wicket, what’s yours?”

“Basil. Basil Ratamuffin,” the rat responded.

From his distinct English accent, Wicket deduced Basil wasn’t American, “Are you from England?”

“Dreaming Spires, Spireshire, United Kingdom.”

Having never heard of that place and not wanting to appear uneducated, Wicket said, “Oh.”

“Are you going on vacation?” The rat quizzed.

“No, I’m just looking for food,” replied Wicket.

“Well,” Basil said as he pointed toward the west. “I think you are going home with me.”

Wicket looked toward New York Harbor. He could see the lights of the city fading away in the distance. The ship was heading toward open sea.

“Since we’ll be traveling together, mind explaining what you’re doing with those flowers on your head? Wait; let’s make that our topic of conversation over dinner. Follow me,” directed Basil.

Five days later...

Basil hopped off the baggage cart. “Welcome to Dreaming Spires. Come on, I want you to meet my mom,” Basil called.

Wicket, still wearing the rose bouquet on his head, followed Basil as he dashed through the unfamiliar streets. They came to a stop in front of a building surrounded by lush gardens. “Come on. We’re almost home.”

Basil swiftly climbed a tree, stopping to wait for Wicket to untangle a rose wedged between two leaves. But poor Wicket couldn’t tug the rose loose. Wicket slipped, grabbing hold of the tree limb to keep from falling…unable to save the bouquet.

Meanwhile on a bench in the garden below...

Two lovers sat on a wooden bench, holding each other closely, knowing this would be the last time they would be together. He had other commitments in another country; she would be staying in Dreaming Spires alone. They were not meant to be a couple…or were they? All they needed was a sign from above, a bolt of lighting…something to convince them to fight for their love.

As his lips touched hers for what would be their last kiss, the somewhat wilted, yet still recognizable, stowaway bouquet fell from the clear blue sky, dropping into the arms of the woman. The impact opened their eyes, both in reality and figuratively, forcing the lovers to face the truth. They were meant to be together…together forever.