The idea of Tiffany staying home and angry this weekend gave me no pleasure. I’d only ever wanted her to succeed by following her own path—I’d just wished that path had been heading in the opposite direction of Manning. I nodded, smiling. “Yes. I’m sorry for everything, but I hope we can both recognize it worked out for the best.”
“It did.” She wet the tip of her thumb and smeared away something on my cheek. “Manning deserves to be happy, and I realize now that he never was. I talked to him for a while last night—he’s a different man.”
Tiffany knew Manning in ways I didn’t. She’d been with him day in and day out when he’d suffered over me and struggled with his demons. I knew he was happy, but hearing Tiffany say it, my throat thickened. “I could barely comprehend what love was at sixteen, and I know you didn’t believe me back then, but I felt it for him.”
“Oh, geez. I told you not to cry.” Tiffany twisted around to swipe a tissue from the bathroom counter. As she did, I noticed her zipper stretching at the seams. She turned back with tears in her eyes—and that was the giveaway. Tiffany didn’t waste good makeup on crying. “Tiff?” I asked.
She dabbed at the corner of my eye. “What?”
Could that stillness in her be a result of something greater than her love for Robby? “Did you pick a date yet?”
“No.” Her cheeks tinged the slightest shade of pink. “I know we told you guys fall, but fall is so predictable. We’re going to wait until next year.”
“I see.”
Her chest rose and fell with each breath. Now that I’d noticed that her dress was tight, her breasts almost seemed to grow before my eyes.
“Is there another reason you’re waiting?” I asked.
She balled up the tissue, shifting her eyes to meet mine. “What kind of reason?”
“Maybe that you don’t want to order a dress in a bigger size?”
She narrowed her eyes, and for a second, I worried I’d gotten it wrong. Thinking she might be pregnant, I’d just implied my sister was gaining weight, which would be a surefire way to undo all the progress we’d made recently. But then, she shrugged. “Maybe. But today is your day,” she said. “It’s your wedding. Don’t worry about me.”
Today was my day? Now I knew there was something fundamentally different about her. She was giving me the spotlight, possibly for the first time ever. Either she’d been abducted by aliens and they’d sent down a nicer version of her, or her hormones were going haywire and the pregnancy had softened her. I’d heard of that happening—then again, I’d also heard of Roswell. “You are pregnant.” I tried to contain my smile. “Were you planning it?”
“I wasn’t. Robby probably poked holes in the condom.”
With no response to that, I laughed nervously. “Does Mom know?”
“No. I’m not even seven weeks, and I’m not ready to say anything.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Considering what happened before, I’m scared to even let myself think it’s true.”
I nodded. I got anxious when my period was even a day late, so I understood. I promised myself this time, no matter what, I’d be there for Tiffany. There’d be no keeping my distance like before when she’d needed family by her side. “Between us, Manning and I have been trying.”
“I’m not surprised.” She squeezed my arm. “We can be pregnant together.”
As soon as excitement buzzed through me, it fizzled. Manning and I had been off birth control long enough for me to understand I didn’t have any say over the timing. “It’s been a while,” I said. “I actually thought I might be waddling down the aisle.”
“How long?” she asked.
“Almost a year. But that’s including the time it takes for birth control to wear off.”
“Oh.” She nodded a little, blinking away. “That’s not that long. And on the bright side, you’re not waddling. That would be a terrible look on your wedding day.”
I wasn’t sure I agreed. I remembered how the thought of me as a pregnant bride had driven Manning wild. “You’re probably right.”
My mom returned and took my dress off the back of the door. “They’re about ready for us.”
I glanced at her in the mirror. “I need help getting into that.”
“Go to the bathroom first,” Mom and Tiffany said at the same time.
“I don’t have to.”
“Make yourself,” Tiffany said.
“You can do it,” Mom added.
“O-kay,” I said, mostly out of a fear they wouldn’t let me leave otherwise.
When I’d finished, I found my mom, Tiffany, and Val in the bedroom, all holding open the gown.
“I think it should go over her head,” Val was saying.
“After I just spent an hour on her hair and makeup?” Tiffany asked. “She can step into it.”
“The top part is too tight,” Val said. “It won’t fit over her hips—no offense, Lake. It’s not you, it’s the dress. I do this all the time on set.”
“Whatever,” Tiffany said. “If she gets foundation on it, that’s on you.”
Oddly, their bickering made me smile. It was normal, and normal was good today. I didn’t want anything more than to walk down the aisle, marry my love, and eat and drink with friends and family. I slid off my robe and raised my arms as they worked on the sleeves and guided my head through the neckline.
Once my mom had zipped me up and arranged the dress how she wanted, she guided me over to the floor-length mirror to help me into my shoes. I’d picked up my off-the-shoulder, long-sleeved cream dress from a secondhand store in town. The lace bodice managed to hug my breasts without cutting off my air, and the skirt fell in a loose column. It’d been Tiffany’s uncharacteristic suggestion to have fun with the shoes, so Val had helped me pick out chestnut-brown leather booties to fit the outdoor setting of our ceremony and reception.
I turned to the side, checking myself from all angles. The long lace sleeves bared only my shoulders. The toes of my booties stuck out from under the hem. I wasn’t the most stylish, most glamorous, or the sexiest bride in the world, but I looked like myself—a woman about to walk down the aisle to the man she loved. Luckily, Manning made me feel sexy no matter what I wore. Still, I smiled to myself knowing I had some special wedding lingerie for him later.
As I started to turn away from the mirror, my gaze snagged on my right hand. The deep purple color of the mood ring Manning had slid onto my finger in the boat was vibrant against the cream lace. It had turned that color the night I’d found my way back to Manning in Big Bear, after we’d eaten and argued and cried and made love—and I wasn’t sure it’d changed since. That purple was our shade of happiness and the reason I’d chosen a plum color scheme for the wedding. Manning giving it to me on the lake the night before was no coincidence. I did have something borrowed after all. I considered it Madison’s ring first, and a symbol of her presence.
I flexed my hand against the dress one last time, then turned back to Mom, Tiffany, and Val. “I’m ready.”
* * *
On a warm summer evening, I stood on my back porch overlooking friends and family as I prepared to marry my best friend. A violinist played over the murmurs of the crowd, the sun orange as it began to lower behind the mountains and trees. Manning and his friends had organized our backyard with wooden folding chairs divided by an aisle lined with lit lanterns.
Of my five bridesmaids, one was from Pomona, and the other two had driven in from Los Angeles. The audience had seemingly arranged itself—friends from New York took up one row, while other sections had been taken over by Californians, grad school classmates, or locals Manning and I had befriended. Tiffany blew Robby a kiss from her bridesmaid post. Val’s normally wry expression warmed and softened as she winked at someone in the second row. That someone had golden hair that was now down to his broad, suited surfer’s shoulders. Corbin had narrowly missed my forcing him to be a bridesmaid.
Opposite of my friends and sister stood Henry, Gary, and a few men in the
construction business Manning had become close with since moving to Big Bear.
The bridal party flanked a wedding arch I’d never seen. Crafted of the same honey wood in the house and adorned with cream gauze, ivy, pinecones, and white twinkle lights, I understood why I’d known nothing about it. It had to be a wedding gift to me from Manning. At the foot of one side of the arch, Blue wore a harness with a pouch for her role as ring bearer.
I looked everywhere but at Manning. Once I did, that would be it for me. I’d never been the same girl after Manning and I had met eyes on the street all those years ago, and I wouldn’t be the same woman once I saw him waiting on his bride.
With his thoughtfulness filling my heart, I descended the porch to meet my dad at the base of the steps. He offered me his elbow. “You look like one of those princesses in the fairytales you watched as a young girl.”
I smiled. “All Tiffany’s doing.”
“I have no doubt.” We looped arms, and he guided me toward the aisle. “Are you nervous?”
“No,” I answered and finally met Manning’s gaze. Undoubtedly, his eyes had been on me the whole time. Everything else fell away, my nose tingling. With a cream rose pinned to his suit lapel to match my bouquet, he adjusted the knot of his black tie and watched my every move with melted-chocolate brown eyes. I wanted to smile at him. To thank him for the love and mastery it’d surely taken to design the back lawn into a rustic paradise—from the arch to the twinkle lights strung in the trees, over chairs, and hanging from the trellis, to the picnic tables he’d rented so we could host the reception here. I wanted to blow him a kiss, call for him, cry tears of joy. But I couldn’t do any of that. Both Manning and I seemed frozen in the moment, just our hearts beating—syncing, as I was certain I actually felt his—and the tether between us pulling me closer and closer to him.
If there were any other eyes on me besides Manning’s as I walked down the aisle, I didn’t notice. I heard only what I felt—pine needles crunching underfoot, the brush of my dad’s suit against my dress, and the echo of my heartbeat in my ears. The setting sun cast a glow on Manning as we reached him.
My dad turned to me. “Love you, Lake,” he said, and that was enough, but he added, “I’m proud of the woman you’ve become, even if I had little hand in it.”
“You were there with me every day, Dad, even if we were apart.” The back of my throat burned as I held back tears. I hugged him. “For better or worse.”
He chuckled, then let me go before nodding at Manning. I stepped up to the altar, pausing to run my fingertips over the smooth wood. Carved into the underside of the arch, where only Manning, the minister, and I could see, were tiny, almost invisible stars, and the initials L+M in the center.
“Charles helped,” Manning said.
My dad smiled at me as he took his seat. I moved in front of Manning with tears in my eyes, but I could hardly look at him without losing it. I scratched Blue’s head, then glanced at the ground in a vain attempt to compose myself . . . and noticed Manning’s shoes. At my urging, he’d spent time and money getting a custom suit for today, but I’d forgotten to ask about his footwear. Through my teary vision, I inhaled a laugh at his Timberlands.
“Friends and family—” the officiant began, pausing as Manning put a knuckle under my chin to lift my eyes to meet his. I swallowed thickly but held his gaze and heard nothing else until it was my turn to repeat my vows, and then Manning his.
I’d asked Manning once, months ago, if we should write our own vows, but he’d said no. He wanted to marry me in front of friends and family, but our most private and intimate feelings were just that—private and intimate. After so many years of not sharing with Manning how I felt, he was the only person I cared to tell anyway.
We exchanged rings. Manning placed my palm in his and kissed the back of it before sliding on a simple gold band. I put a matching ring on his roughened hand.
“By the power vested in me,” the minister said, “I now pronounce you husband and wife. Manning—”
Manning’s mouth slid into a sly smile. “Yes?”
“You may now kiss your bride.”
Manning gathered me in his arms, but instead of kissing me, he shifted to whisper in my ear. “I love you, Lake Sutter. I don’t know why you trusted me that first day or any day after it. You mesmerized me. There was, and still is, something in the way you are. Your blue eyes brought peace and light to my dark and noisy head.” He drew back and took a moment to collect himself. “I think maybe you saved me, Birdy.”
With his last words, my tears finally slid free. I shook my head. “You saved yourself.”
“You did. More than once. If my life wasn’t everything it is,” he said, nodding over the crowd toward our house, “it would be nothing.”
I fisted his lapels to pull him closer, crying openly now. “Manning.”
“Yeah, Birdy.”
He picked me up by my waist so I could whisper in his ear. “I told you City Hall would’ve been fine, that the where and how and when didn’t matter. But you saw right through me. Deep down, I still held on to the fear that we wouldn’t make it here. That we wouldn’t get this moment. So, I pretended it wasn’t important who witnessed it, or how it was done, but it is, and you knew that. Maybe I saved your life, I don’t know about that, but you love me with an intensity that can’t be reckoned with. I fear for anyone who tries to get in our way. I’d say I want to spend forever with you, but forever isn’t long enough.”
“No, it isn’t,” he agreed.
“Now kiss me, Great Bear, and let’s make this official.”
10
Two hours into our marriage, I’d already lost my husband. Husband. My toes curled, and not just because I was failing to contain my happiness. The word husband actually did things to me—things that made me want to steal him away from the reception. That might’ve been possible anywhere else, but not in our home, where guests would easily miss us.
My gut told me he’d snuck off on purpose, so I wasn’t surprised to find him in the front yard with Henry and my dad. Each of them stood with loosened ties, a tumbler in one hand, and a cigar in the other.
“What’d I tell you, Manning?” Dad asked, winking at me as I picked up the skirt of my dress and descended the porch steps. “Now that you’re married, you won’t get ten minutes to yourself.”
“That so?” Manning opened an arm to me, and I fit myself to his side.
“I don’t think he minds,” Henry said with a gentle smile.
“I’m not here to force him back to the party,” I promised, sliding one arm inside his suit jacket and around his waist. “I just missed him.”
Manning set his drink on the porch railing and balanced the cigar next to it. I lifted my face when he cupped my cheek for a kiss. “I keep meaning to tell you how beautiful you look,” he said.
“You told me,” I said. “About ten times so far. The last time was thirty minutes ago.”
“Well, I’ve been meaning to say it for thirty minutes.”
I could’ve basked in his adoration all night, and I planned to, but that would have to wait.
“I recognize that look,” Dad said, sounding as if he might be approaching his drink limit. “You two better be careful.”
Manning pecked my forehead, then took his cigar from the railing. “Why’s that?”
I had a good buzz going from the champagne, so I picked up Manning’s drink. “What is this?” I asked, sniffing it.
“Scotch,” Manning answered as I took a sip. “It’s strong.”
Dad blew out a cloud of white smoke, then waved it away. “Kaplan women get pregnant at the drop of a hat.”
I spit out the Scotch and coughed so hard that Manning took the drink away.
“Easy,” Dad said. “That’s three-hundred-dollar liquor, Lake.”
Manning patted my back. “You all right?” he asked.
Eyes watering, I nodded. Then I shook my head. No. Had my father really said that? My dad didn’t bother
with things that didn’t interest him. If he took to meddling in my sex life the way he had my education, then I was definitely not all right.
“I’ll get you some water,” Henry said, setting down his cigar to go in the house.
My burning throat kept me from thanking him—and from stopping my dad from making his point, which he always did.
“When your mother told me she wanted a kid,” Dad said, “I wasn’t sure we were ready. Well, damn if we didn’t conceive Tiffany the moment I agreed. Sure felt that way.”
“Dad,” I protested, my voice creaking. “Overshare.”
“It’s basic biology, Lake. It was the same with you.” He turned to Manning. “I told Cathy we ought to give Tiffany a sibling, and nine months later, she had one.”
I hid my face in Manning’s jacket. “Make it stop.”
Manning chuckled. “It’s come up a few times, sir.”
“That’s what I was worried about,” Dad said. “Keep in mind that Lake has a lot ahead of her. Just because she’s done with school doesn’t mean this next part is easy.”
Henry appeared next to me with a water. “Don’t want grandkids?” he asked my dad.
I took the bottle with a “thank you” and gulped water through my embarrassment.
“I do, and Lord knows Cathy does, but there’s a time for that, and it isn’t when she owes tens of thousands in student loans.”
“Students loans are an epidemic in this country,” Manning agreed.
Since Manning was always reminding me when I stressed about money that my loans were the good kind of debt, I knew they didn’t bother him; this was his way of changing the subject. Certainly my dad’s words needled him the way they did me. But then, their meaning started to settle in—and a far bigger, more disheartening realization eclipsed any of my irritation. Kaplan women were actually extremely fertile. In fact, Tiffany had ruined my first shot at a relationship with Manning years ago with her sudden pregnancy. And this time, she hadn’t even been trying with Robby.
Kaplan women get pregnant at the drop of a hat.
Lake + Manning: Something in the Way, 4 Page 9