My mother, predictably, cries at the sight of me. I have to make her leave or she will set me off, and I don’t want to ruin Sophie’s efforts. So she goes on ahead of the bridesmaids and me, down to the beach below Kate’s house, where I decided to hold the ceremony part of the celebration. The plan is I will walk down an aisle, just as if it were a normal wedding, only instead of toward a minister and groom there will be a podium, from where I can say a few words. Wedding ceremonies are typically very short, and even though this day is not typical in the least, it’s a hot day, so I’m hoping to keep this part of the day short. Then it’s celebration time. Not that I’m in the mood for partying without James, but I have to try to put that behind me, just for today.
Kate and Amanda, my bridesmaids, emerge from Kate’s room and I gasp audibly. “Oh, you guys; you look amazing,” I say tearfully, waving my hands frantically in front of my eyes in a futile effort to dispel sudden tears.
“Scrub up OK, don’t we?” Amanda preens.
They are wearing beautiful draping dresses in a soft gold color. With their hair loosely plaited over one shoulder, tanned skins, and skillfully applied makeup, they look like Grecian goddesses.
The three of us put our arms around each other and our heads together.
“I always knew this day would come,” Kate says softly. “That we’d be bridesmaids for each other’s big days. And even though the circumstances aren’t what you’d call normal, or ideal, this is still your big day, Ava. And we’re here for you, whatever you need.”
“Yeah.” Amanda sniffs loudly. “What she said.”
“And I love you both too. Thank you for being the most amazing friends. I wouldn’t have had half as good a life as I have, without you two.”
We smile at each other, a little soppily, before Kate breaks apart the circle.
“Right,” she says, businesslike once more. She goes to a chiller box and opens it, revealing our large white bouquets.
“Hydrangeas!” I squeal.
“Did you think we’d forget?” Amanda says. “Believe me, you went on about it enough that every detail has been seared into our brains for life.”
Kate checks the clock over the oven. “OK, girls, you ready?”
We all look at each other and smile.
“Ready.”
“Ready.”
She passes us our flowers. “Then let’s do this.”
There’s a knock on the door and Kate looks at me, puzzled.
“Are you expecting anyone?”
“It’s probably just a guest who got confused and came here instead of parking at the reserve,” Amanda says impatiently. “Leave it; they’ll figure it out.”
“That’s not very nice,” Kate scolds her. She opens the door.
“Hi, I’m your photographer. The magazine sent me.”
And even though it is not his voice, I can’t help how my heart quickens. Then he steps into the room. Tall and thin, with black hair pulled back into a slick man bun. He’s carrying a bag and wearing a smile that seems genuine, even if his cultivated look is not.
“Ava?” he asks. “I’m Steve Gunning. I’ll be your photographer for today.”
“Is he wearing…eyeliner?” Amanda mutters to me.
“I think so.”
“Hot.” She flicks her plait and smiles coyly at him. He blatantly looks her up and down and, judging by the way his top lip curls up in one corner, he clearly likes what he sees.
He is the absolute polar opposite of my sweet James, and he makes my eyes hurt.
Kate gives me a concerned look. “Are you OK with this? I can tell him to leave if you’re not.”
I breathe in and out, steadying myself. “No, it’s OK. We agreed to let the magazine cover this and I’m not going to back out now.”
“Great.” Steve strides in.
“We were actually just on our way out, to the ceremony,” Amanda tells him. She has adopted her flirtatious manner. Kate rolls her eyes at me.
“I won’t hold you up long.” He puts his bag on the table and unzips it, then pulls out a camera with a lens so long Kate whispers to me that surely it has to be compensating for something. “Let me just get a few quick shots of you three first, the bridal party.”
We link arms and stand on the deck as directed, and he photographs us with the trees and a sliver of ocean in the background, the clear blue sky the perfect backdrop. Every click of the shutter brings back memories, both painful and sweet, and I have to really concentrate to stop myself from crying. This isn’t how I imagined this day going at all, but then that’s to be expected, surely, because this day was never going to be anything but different.
Finally, he finishes. I am so nervous as we make our way across the lawn and down the path toward the trees. Mum and Dad are waiting there for me. I made the decision to have them both walk me down the aisle.
When my father sees me he takes a sharp breath in and slaps a hand to his chest. “Oh…Ava. Look…at…you. My little girl…is all grown up.” He sniffs loudly and pinches the end of his nose.
“Don’t you start crying,” Mum warns him sharply. “You’ll set me off.”
“I can’t help it. She looks so beautiful.”
“She does, doesn’t she,” Mum agrees.
They both look me up and down with muted expressions. It is hard to know what is going through their minds, but I can hazard a guess. This is not the future they planned, when they first held me in their arms. I may not have had children of my own, but I can fathom the fierce love a parent must feel, and the anguish of knowing you only have so much control over the life of this child you have created. Some things you will be able to control, some things you won’t. Unfortunately, you don’t get to pick and choose.
“Are we doing this?” Dad asks. “I’ll be the proudest dad in the world to walk you down the aisle.”
He looks so vulnerable. I think about all the things he will miss out on. Grandchildren being the big one. He would have made an amazing grandfather, with his trite magic tricks that would nevertheless have enchanted them. I am going to give him this honor, to walk me down the aisle. It’s the least I can do. And, later, the father–daughter dance. My parents are being forced to endure the unendurable. It is not fair on them, just as it is not fair on me.
“OK.” Kate turns to me. “Wait here. We’ll go first, and then when you hear the music you follow. Are you sure you’re up for this?”
I nod.
She kisses me on the cheek, tears glistening in her eyes. “You look amazing. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
She and Amanda disappear into the trees, down toward the beach. Steven follows to find himself the best vantage point from which to photograph my entrance. Alone, I can let my facade slip, but I don’t allow myself to cry. Without James in my life, it all seems meaningless. But I have to respect his decision and his reasons behind it. He’s not a bad person, I know that much. And he loved me, I know that just as sure as I know the grass is green and springy under my feet, the sky blue overhead. He loved me. So it wasn’t an easy decision for him. I know that, and the knowledge should bring me comfort. It doesn’t, but it should.
I take a deep breath. This day may not be the day I have been dreaming of since I was a young girl. But it is the day I have been dreaming of since I was told I was dying. A lot of work and planning has gone into it. I will enjoy this day, as much as I possibly can. Tomorrow I can fall apart, but today I will be strong.
I hear the first few notes of music drift up to where I am standing. I left the song choice up to Amanda, trusting her taste implicitly, and now I recognize it instantly and smile. Ed Sheeran’s “Photograph.” One of my favorite songs of all time, and oh so very apt, but also so very painful right now. I close my eyes and breathe in and out slowly. My eyes fly open when the singing starts. It’s her, Amanda. She’s singing the song herself and it’s hauntingly beautiful. She will go on to great things; I am more sure of it than ever. Carefully, I make my way down
the path, toward the outpouring of love I know awaits me.
I step out of the trees, and into a sea of people. There are my close family and friends, seated, and then, beyond that, standing all around, are so many faces, all smiling at me. I stumble under the weight of their stares.
“Who are these people?” I ask Mum.
“Readers of the magazine, mostly.”
“But why are they here?”
“So many people adore you, Ava, and want to see you happy. It’s a public place and we didn’t have the heart to turn anyone away, but if it’s too much I can ask them to move back and give us some space.”
I scan the crowd, recognizing familiar faces. Ruth from Marmalade Farm. Kelly and Sophie. The mayor. My seventh-form geography teacher. My ex-boyfriend and his wife and children. People I have crossed paths with, both in the past and more recently. They are all here to see me. Old ladies with handkerchiefs at the ready beam at me myopically. There must be a hundred people or more. I should feel intimated. Normally I would. But the love that radiates off these people is palpable and fills me with strength.
“No. It’s OK.” I nod. “They should be a part of this too.”
“Are you sure? There are an awful lot of them.”
“I’m sure. I want them to hear what I have to say.”
“You have a wonderful heart, Ava Green.” My mother smiles.
“You might be slightly biased.”
“Maybe. But I don’t think so.”
I pause to close my eyes and breathe in the salty air, capturing the moment, squeezing the life out of it. There is only one thing that would make it more perfect. Well, one person. But he is not here.
Chapter Forty-Three
The music swells. This is it. My moment. I lift my chin and step forward, feeling like the princess I always dreamt of being, determined to enjoy every step. I take my time, smiling at everyone I pass. I feel special, and loved. When we reach the end of the aisle, Kate is standing by the wooden podium. My mother and father kiss my cheeks, tears in their eyes, and take their seats. Without them at my side, the nerves come back and I almost lose confidence, but then I hand Kate my bouquet and turn, focusing on the faces staring back at me, and a sense of calm washes over me. My mother was right. These people are not strangers. Their faces represent a lifetime, my lifetime. My journey to get to this point. They are all on their own journeys, of course, but our paths have intersected somewhere along the way, and we have added our own paragraphs and pages to each other’s history books. Sometimes the impact has been brief, a footnote. But it all has meaning. It all adds value. It has all shaped the woman I am, standing here today. This day is as much a celebration of them as it is of me, because without them, my journey wouldn’t have been half as enjoyable, or epic. Kate passes me a microphone that is connected to an outdoor speaker system and then retreats.
“Thank you,” I say, clearing my throat, hearing my voice bounce back at me through the sound system. “For being here today. I appreciate it. As most of you will know, I’m not much of a public speaker. So I’ll keep this reasonably brief. I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about what I was going to say today. I kept coming up with pithy little speeches, and words that I thought were very wise and considered.”
I frown, adopting a serious, scholarly face and hear a few titters. It encourages me, I feel my voice strengthen.
“Words that I could pass on to you, and you would go forth and live your best life, remembering my advice, and me, always. Because that’s been my biggest fear, you see. That you’ll all forget me. I wanted you to dwell on my memory, and fester on the sadness, because I thought that would show that you still cared. But last night I realized I’ve been thinking about it all wrong. I know you won’t forget me, although you’ll probably think of me less and less as the years go on, and I’ve decided I’m OK with that. Honestly. You shouldn’t dwell. You should move on. If there is anything I know better than most, it’s that life really can change in an instant. Death will come to us all—sorry, that’s morbid, I know, and I notice a few of you shuddered when I said that word—but here’s the thing: It shouldn’t be such a taboo subject. We talk about anything and everything these days. Our sex lives, cosmetic surgery procedures, even the most ridiculous ones you can think of. I saw a program the other week about labia enhancements, for God’s sake. Sorry, Dad. You probably didn’t think that’s a word you’d hear your daughter say at her wedding.”
People chuckle.
“Death is a natural consequence of life. You can’t have one without the other. It is one of the only things, apart from birth, that we all have in common. No matter how we live, or where, or how much money we have, we all leave this world the same way. So don’t waste time being miserable, or weeping for me. Do I wish things were different? Hell, yes. No question. I don’t want to die. I’m not ready for it, and I’m terrified. But I will, and soon, probably. Grieve for me for a short while, and then be thankful for each day that you are still here. Some things we can’t control, but there is so much we can. Choose to be happy. Choose to be grateful, for both life and the small moments it consists of. Choose kindness, and love over hate. Always choose love. Even if you are as scared as you can possibly be, choose love. When you are face-to-face with your own mortality you don’t want to be thinking, If only I’d been braver. Be brave now. Take chances. What have you got to lose?”
I pause, and someone starts to tentatively clap. It makes me smile, but it’s not what I want. I hold up one hand.
“Wait,” I say. “I’m not finished. I know that you’ve heard all this before. I’m not going to stand here and pretend that I’m the first dying person to come up with these nuggets of wisdom. I’m not. And I won’t be the last. But here’s the thing: I didn’t understand just how important this advice is. Not until I was dying myself. And if that’s the one thing I can get through to you today, then I’ll be happy. Don’t wait until you’re dying to start living. Think about what I’ve said to you, really think about it. I know life can be busy and hard and there are a million little mundane things that have to be done each day in order to just survive. But surviving isn’t enough. You have to live, really live. Because, before you know it, your time will be up too, and you want to look back and be satisfied that you gave it your very best shot, and you lived your very best life.”
I have no idea if I’m getting through to them. I can see a few people crying. And couples embracing each other, heads bowed together. I hope I am. That’s all I can do.
“OK.” I smile. “That’s enough of that. I love you all. I will treasure the memories we share until I take my last breath, but I want this day to be about living. So, please, as well-meaning as I know you all are, I’d appreciate it if no one tried to use today to tell me goodbye. I’m not dead yet, and I’m not ready for that. So let’s all get a drink and enjoy the best that this fine town has to offer. I want you all to enjoy yourselves, please—that’s an order. Or I’ll take it personally.”
I poke out my tongue and people laugh.
Despite my light tone, my speech has drained me emotionally. I step away from the podium and start to step down when I hear a voice.
“Wait!”
My heart quickens and I search the crowd for the owner, needing confirmation, even though I know, of course, who that voice belongs to. I’d know it anywhere. I just don’t want to hope, in case I am wrong.
I am not wrong.
James is standing there, at the bottom of the path. He is wearing a black suit, and is panting as if he has been running. I stare at him, every fiber in my being afire with love at the sight of this man who has captured my heart so completely. I stop breathing, my ribs tight. The crowd is silent as people swivel their heads to look at both James and me. As far as I’m concerned, though, we are the only people there. Everyone else has receded into the background.
“You came,” I say.
“I had to.”
He starts striding forward. I hitch my dress up with both ha
nds and step down from the podium quickly. We meet in the middle of the aisle, pausing for the longest heartbeat to stare into each other’s eyes first. He looks tired and bedraggled, but perfect. I see myself reflected back at me. And I see his love, his urgent craving for me. Then I am home, in his arms, and everything in the universe falls into perfect alignment.
“These last few days without you have been the worst of my life,” he says raggedly, his voice choking on his pain. “I got on a plane, but the second we were in the air I regretted it. I made it as far as LA and then spent two days flying the longest way home to get back to you.”
“I missed you so much. I thought I’d never see you again.…” My voice chokes in my throat.
He silences me with a kiss, desperate and urgent. When we pull apart we are both breathless and unsatisfied. I realize that I will never have enough of this man. But now that he is back in my arms, I plan on doing a damn good job of trying.
“Remember that day, at the farm?” he asks. “When we were in the paddock and you asked me all those questions.”
Photos of You (ARC) Page 25