“Deny it all you want to, Ryan, but one day something extraordinary is going to happen and you’re not going to be able to explain it away,” I insisted. “You won’t think it’s impossible then. You’re going to think it’s magic. I just hope I’m around to see it.”
I left Ryan’s apartment on a promise that day. After a lot of bickering and the occasional round of raised voices, he surprised me with an extraordinary offer.
“I’ll make it up to her, Charli,” he vowed. “I don’t know how, but I will.”
I believed him, and the reason why was simple. Sometimes the only person with the power to make things right is the person who hurt you in the first place. The best we can hope for is that they’re decent enough to try.
66. A HIT OF MAGIC
Adam
Charli was infinitely more productive than I was that week. She actually made it to work each morning, but then, she had a job to go to. I was content to take time out and hang out with my kid.
After days of radio silence, Ryan called me two days before the wedding and asked that we bring Bridget to the club.
“It’s important,” he said seriously. “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t.”
I didn’t make life difficult by protesting. Ryan had enough on his plate with out-of-control wedding plans. I was also keen to check out the ceiling, which had been stripped back and painted the week before, so a trip to the club was actually appealing.
***
We were the last to arrive. Ryan and Bente were standing in the main room, checking out something on the stage. My focus was entirely on the ceiling. The shabby, peeling paint was gone. It was now bright white, perfectly showcasing the flowery pattern pressed into the tin.
“Ceiling looks good,” I commented.
“Yeah,” agreed Ryan, sounding as if he didn’t care either way.
Bridget was far more enthusiastic, but it probably had nothing to do with the ceiling. Breaking the hold I had on her, she scooted across the floor, throwing herself at Ryan.
He caught her, proving that despite everything he really was a good uncle. “I have something to show you,” he told her.
Bridget squashed his cheeks between her hands. “Really? A surprise?”
Ryan turned around to speak to Charli. “You were right,” he said vaguely.
“I’m always right,” she muttered, unfazed by his comment.
“I’m sorry I stole from you. I’m going to give everything back to you today.”
I had no idea what he was talking about, but Charlotte clearly did. She hooked her arm through mine and held tight, either anticipating something really good or expecting something dreadful. I couldn’t decide which.
Ryan lowered Bridget to her feet. She took off running around the stage as if making up for the stage debut that had never happened.
“I love it up here,” she announced. “Really love it.”
Ryan slipped behind the velvet curtain and Bente edged toward us, looking as nervous as Charli. I was seconds away from demanding an explanation when Ryan reappeared carrying a pair of sparkly wings that told me all I needed to know. He was about to give my daughter a much-needed hit of magic.
67. CHECKED BOXES
Charli
When money is no object, the smallest of gestures is still grand. The wealth of my family had never impressed me, but I wasn’t arrogant enough to claim that our lives weren’t positively affected because of it. It afforded us the freedom of a gypsy lifestyle. Nowhere was off limits if the urge to wander beckoned.
Ryan’s use of his wealth was a little more traditional. He lived an extravagant life, so the plans he came up with were always grand. Giving Bridget her wings back involved an elaborate set-up of cables and trickery designed to make her believe she was flying.
There weren’t words to describe how it felt to see my little girl on stage, waving her arms and kicking her legs as she swung through the air. She was no Madam Butterfly, but there still seemed to be structure to her clumsy flailing.
I tore my eyes from her to glance at Adam. “Is she dancing?” I queried.
He leaned down and whispered in my ear. “That’s the routine she was supposed to do at the recital.”
He would know. Adam had suffered through a million hours of practice, and many of them had taken place on the sidewalk as they trekked back to his office after ballet lessons.
Bridget had worked tirelessly for weeks to learn the routine and had been excited by the prospect of showing it off on stage, only to have it ripped away by Olivia. Bridget might not have been Prima Ballerina material, but she was our Prima, and when I looked back up at the stage, she suddenly didn’t seem so clumsy any more.
Ryan had inadvertently given her much more than he’d taken. As well as returning her wings, he’d also managed to fill the massive void left in her heart by my mother’s wicked deeds.
All of Bridget’s boxes were checked. She was on the stage and dancing in front of an audience in a beautiful sparkly costume.
***
Historically, your wedding day is supposed to be one of the happiest days of your life. Adam and I weren’t exactly on board with the hoopla surrounding Ryan and Bente’s wedding, but we were trying to be.
I’d endured my fair share of coffee dates with the queen, discussing nothing more riveting than guest lists and fruitcake, and always tried to appear interested. Wedding conversations with Bente were much more subdued, and as the day drew closer I got the impression that she was having some serious doubts about what she’d signed on for. Ryan wasn’t faring much better. Adam had told me weeks ago that he was over it, and had no more input than the promise of turning up on the day.
The whole production was a powder keg threatening to blow at any minute, and in the worst timing imaginable, that minute came two hours before they were due at the church.
Bente was teary and bereft, unable to deal with the stress. Not only was she trying to come to grips with her parents’ thoughtless decision to stay on vacation rather than attend her wedding, her sister and nieces had been struck down by a bad bout of food poisoning.
“None of my family will be there,” she sobbed.
I didn’t think that was the worst of her problems. I was having trouble getting past her appearance. Her dress had Ivy stamped all over it. It also had about six million beads and diamantes. It was a visual example of how Bente’s simple, elegant ideas had been trampled on and ramped up to showgirl level – just like the rest of the arrangements.
I wasn’t the only one who recognised she was out of her depth. After a long few hours of soul searching, the bride realised it too, and in the ultimate attempt at regaining control of the way her wedding played out, she called the whole thing off.
68. RING-INS
Adam
Breaking the news to my brother that his wedding had been called off was one of the more difficult things I’d had to do in my life. Convincing him that he hadn’t been jilted was harder. Charli made it very clear when she called and told me the news. Bente had cancelled the wedding, not Ryan.
He sat on the couch looking every bit the dejected groom. “I can’t deal with this, Adam,” he moaned.
I grabbed his arm and forced him to stand. “You have to,” I demanded. “Some things don’t go according to plan, Ryan. Just change course and get back on track.”
“How?”
I was the master of making the best of a bad situation. I had no idea how we were going to sort it out, but was confident we’d come up with something. “I’m not sure,” I admitted. “Let’s just get over there and figure something out.”
***
I tried hard not to look shocked by Bente’s appearance when we arrived at our apartment. Her face was stained with streaks of black makeup, and she’d been crying so hard that her cheeks were as puffy as her dress. Ordinarily Bente was a pretty girl, but at that moment Treasure looked more attractive.
Ignoring the ambience, Bridget was happy to see me. “Look at my dress
, Daddy,” she ordered. “I’m still very clean.”
“Nice work, baby.” I wasn’t sure if Ryan and Bente needed a moment alone or a referee, but I was keen to escape the room. I picked up my very clean kid and headed down the hall. “We’ll leave you two to talk,” I offered.
I found Charli in the bedroom, but unlike me, she wasn’t trying to find a safe haven. She was plotting a way of dragging the day back from the brink of disaster.
I dropped Bridget on the bed, making no attempt to rebuke her when she started bouncing. My concentration was entirely on my wife, who was standing by the closet half wearing a dress I hadn’t seen in years.
“It’s not customary to wear a wedding dress to someone else’s wedding, Coccinelle,” I teased. “You might upstage the bride.” It wouldn’t have been hard at that point. The bride was looking a little worse for wear.
“Shut up and help me,” she replied laughing. “Please.”
I took my time, trying to figure out what she had planned. I came up with only one scenario, and if I was right, it was going to be on par with the Cossack trouser debacle.
“You want us to stand in for them, don’t you?”
Charli scraped her hair into a pile on top of her head, giving me access to the row of buttons down the back of her dress. “It’s all I could come up with,” she replied. “It’s too late to cancel. Your mum will be a wreck.” One by one I fastened the fiddly little buttons while she laid out her plan in its entirety. “Most of the guests are friends of your parents. They won’t even know that we’re ring-ins,” she pointed out. “And your mum is desperate to see one of her sons get married. It won’t kill us to give that to her.”
I turned her to face me. “You want to get married again?”
Her gorgeous smile hit my heart. “Yes I do,” she replied. “I just love marrying you.”
I was too thankful for that admission to protest. I’d vowed a long time ago to give her anything she wanted – even if it was a big church wedding in front of hundreds of people we didn’t know.
My hand slipped across the soft fabric of her dress as I pulled her in close. “I guess we’re getting married then.”
69. GRAND FINALE
Charli
Ryan once travelled all the way across town to settle a restaurant tab that I couldn’t cover. It happened at a time when relations between the queen and I were at an all-time low, and even now I counted it as one of the most hopeless situations I’d ever been in. He swooped in and saved the day without hesitation – and I wanted to return the favour.
My wedding dress had been hanging in the closet for years, and until Adam fastened the last button I was nervous about getting into it. Pre-Bridget I was athletic and girlish, but I was softer now and somewhere along the line I’d achieved the impossible and grown some boobs.
I smoothed my hands across my stomach and studied my reflection. “Do you think it looks okay?” I asked.
Adam tugged at the bow on the back of my dress. “Is that a trick question?” he asked. “You’re beautiful.”
No life could be better than the one I’d found with him. We’d met at a time when I was utterly unlikable – even to myself. Adam was a boy I’d considered to be so far out of my league that believing that he loved me took effort.
Over time, the pedestal I’d placed him on moved to lower ground, allowing us to meet somewhere in the middle. Adam Décarie wasn’t a perfect man, and once he stopped pretending to be, I loved him a whole lot more.
I studied him through the mirror, making no secret of it. Adam stared straight back.
“I couldn’t have gotten through the last month without you,” I said finally.
“You don’t have to get through a single minute without me.”
And that was the beauty of finding my other half. No matter how turbulent our lives could be at times, we were constant and united.
The subject of returning to Australia had only been mentioned in passing, but I’d woken that morning with the unyielding urge to pull the pin and do it. A wedding seemed like the perfect grand finale to our New York life.
“Today will be special,” I whispered. “A new chapter.”
“Same book though, right?”
“Yes.” I laughed. “You signed on for the extended version.”
70. BLOOD AND BANDAGES
Adam
Somewhere along the line I learned to be adaptable, which probably explained why sitting in a limo on the way to my second wedding didn’t faze me. The company was stellar. Neither of my girls caught me staring, and if they had it wouldn’t have bothered them. They were used to it.
“Why are you breaking it, Mummy?” asked Bridget, trying to make a grab for Charli’s bouquet.
“I’m not breaking it.” Charli shifted it out of her reach while she looked it over. “I’m fixing it.” She plucked a red rose out of the mix and handed it to Bridget. “Do you like the red or white roses best?”
Our little girl pulled her best pouty face and deliberated. “The white ones.”
Charli handed her another red rose. “Me too.”
“What’s the matter with it?” I asked curiously.
My gorgeous bride lifted her head. “Red and white flowers should never be put in the same bouquet. It’s extremely bad luck,” she explained. “I did warn Fiona.”
I tutted in mock outrage. “The nerve of the woman.”
Her smile was stunning. “Are you doubting the legend, Boy Wonder?”
“Never.” I held my hand to my heart. “I wouldn’t dare.”
“Some believe that red and white roses represent blood and bandages during wartime. They don’t go together.” She twisted the bouquet, looking it over. “Maybe blood and bandages played a part in the wedding plans coming unstuck.”
“Maybe you should’ve told Ryan that story.”
She shook her head. “He’s not superstitious.”
“I’m superlicious!” squealed Bridget.
Charlotte handed her another red rose. “You are,” she agreed laughing..
“Why do we have to marry Daddy today?”
Charli locked her warm brown eyes on mine. “Because we love him.”
Bridget dropped the flowers on her lap and sank down in her seat, stretching her legs as far as she could in a bid to reach me. Her little booted feet rested on my knees. “We really love you, Daddy.”
I grabbed her feet. “How lucky am I?”
“Very lucky,” she replied. “So much lucky.”
***
The ride to the church didn’t take as long as we’d anticipated. I don’t pretend to know much about wedding etiquette, but something told me that turning up half an hour before the ceremony wasn’t the done thing.
“We could wait in the car for a while,” I suggested.
“I’m on to you, Adam.” Charli grinned. “We’re going to have to face your parents some time.”
“I’ll hold your hand, Dad,” Bridget offered.
If Bridget thought I needed support, I must’ve really looked nervous.
“You have to, baby,” I replied, forcing a smile. “You’re my best girl.” For the first time that afternoon, I was feeling inconvenienced. Pulling Ryan out of the line of fire meant putting ourselves there instead. I had trouble dealing with my mother at the best of times, and this was not going to be one of them. Dealing with my father was worse. We hadn’t spoken to him in days, and I was enjoying the respite.
The break in drama was effectively over the second we got out of the car. Bridget chose that moment to make a life-altering decision. “I really don’t like boots,” she announced.
The shocked look on Charli’s face was warranted. It was a move neither of us had seen coming. Trying to convince Bridget to keep them on was pointless – she’d already kicked them off.
I leaned down and picked them up. “What are you going to wear when you walk down the aisle?” I asked.
“Just toes and feet.”
I handed her the boots and sco
oped her up. “Right then. Toes and feet it is.”
“Can I tell you something?” asked Charli in a tiny voice.
“Of course,” I replied. “As long as it’s true.”
“I don’t like my shoes either.” She lifted the hem of her dress and looked at her feet. “I want to take them off.”
I felt a slow smile creep across my face. “It’s your day,” I reasoned. “I’m pretty sure you can do whatever you want.”
Charli shifted her bouquet to her other hand and pulled off her heels. Bridget found the move hysterical, giggling so hard that keeping a grip on her took work. I hitched her higher on my hip. “Are we good to go now, ladies?”
“Can I tell you something else?” Charli asked.
“Anything.”
She rested her hand on Bridget’s back and whispered in my ear. “I want to go home to the beach.”
I’d been waiting to hear those words for months. I wasn’t sure what had brought it on, but I wasn’t going to question it. Downplaying my joy was impossible but I tried, masking my smile with a kiss. “I love you so very much,” I whispered, resting my forehead against hers.
“Daddy, Mamie’s coming,” announced Bridget, tugging on my jacket.
I straightened up to see my mother barrelling along the sidewalk. “No, no, no!” she cried. “Where’s your brother?”
I glanced at Charli before replying. “There’s been a change of plans, Ma.”
She stood in front us, looking Charli up and down. There was no need to explain. The wedding dress clued her in quickly. “You’re getting married?” she asked shakily.
“We’re the understudies.” Charlotte passed her bouquet to me and grabbed Mom’s hands.
I’d been trying to pre-empt the queen’s reaction for hours. I expected wailing. What I didn’t expect was the unladylike swearing that accompanied it.
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