Pgs. 122 - 125
There weren't a lot of restaurants in Summerside and, although Roy knew his prospects were good, his wallet had not yet grown fat. Again they sat across from each other in the Chinese restaurant.
They had finished eating. Sara started to slide out from the booth in preparation to leave when Roy said, "Wait, Sara. Sit here with me a minute longer."
Curious, she did as he asked then watched as he reached into his pocket and withdrew something. She noticed the sheepish grin on his face and, never knowing what he was going to do next to embarrass her, she asked, "What tricks are you up to this time, Roy Gordon?"
"No tricks. I want ya to have this, Sara," he said, handing her a little box.
She held it in her hand, opened the box and exclaimed, "Oh, Roy! It's lovely!"
"It belonged to my mother," he explained. "I want you to wear it, Sara."
"Does this mean we are officially engaged?" she asked as he slipped the ring onto her finger. "Oh, Roy! It fits perfectly. Why, it's beautiful!"
She didn't hesitate to accept the ring. That evening Roy and Sara set a wedding date six short months down the road.
The following day, being Sunday, found them settling back into their old routine. Roy played the cornet in the band and Sara attended both the morning and evening Salvation Army meetings. Their routine was broken that evening though. For the first time Roy didn't say his usual good-night to Sara on her front verandah.
Sara had forewarned him about Rebecca's temper so it was a nervous Roy who followed Sara into her house that night. They found Rebecca sitting in the parlour talking with her boarders.
"I'm home," Sara interrupted. "I've brought someone with me. Can you come out into the kitchen, mama? she asked. She didn't want to introduce Roy to the two nosy, old men.
Rebecca was not surprised. She had been expecting this ever since Sara had told her that Roy had asked her to marry him. She followed Sara out into the kitchen and found herself staring at a fidgety, good-looking young man.
"Roy," Sara said, taking Roy by the hand and pulling him forward, "I would like to introduce you to my mother, Rebecca Thompson. Mama, this is Roy Gordon.
"Evenin', Mrs. Thompson," he said.
"Evening, Roy," she replied.
"Mrs. Thompson," Roy started, "I asked your daughter to be my wife and ......" The well-rehearsed words were trapped in his mouth. Fear tied his tongue in knots.
"I've accepted, mama," Sara announced jumping to Roy's rescue."
"Well, now, so we're going to have a wedding then, are we? Then we'd better start making some plans."
Sara thought her mother sounded genuinely pleased.
"When's it going to be?" Rebecca asked. "You'll have to give Corinne enough time to make your gown, Sara, and I'll get on to my friends at the Women's Institute about the wedding supper. You'll get married in the Presbyterian Church where you were properly christened, Sara, so I will talk to the reverend and .....
"We plan to get married in the Salvation Army, mama," Sara interrupted.
"It's like that, is it?" Rebecca was visibly disappointed.
"Roy and I are both senior soldiers in the Army now, mama," Sara explained. "It wouldn't seem right to get married in some other church."
"Wouldn't seem right?" Rebecca snapped. "Wouldn't seem right? Seems to me a mother has some rights when it comes to planning her own daughter's wedding. You will expect me to pay for it, I dare say!"
"Mama," Sara retorted, "we wouldn't think of letting you pay the expense. Would we, Roy?"
Roy, who hadn't given the slightest thought to the expense of a wedding up until now didn't say anything.
"Roy!" Sara insisted, "Would we, Roy?"
"Course we wouldn't, Mrs. Thompson," he answered as he wondered why they wouldn't. He wondered how they would. Didn't the bride's family usually arrange all that stuff?"
He was afraid to look at Sara. He could feel the weight of her disapproval on his inexperienced shoulders. He was even more afraid to look at his future mother-in-law who was now hunched over the kitchen table, head buried in her arms, crying. More than anything in the world at that moment he wanted to be anywhere else. If there was anything he couldn't stand, it was the forlorn sight and sound of female tears.
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