At the back of the entourage, the matron of honor and Juliette's best friend forever, Sharon Scoville, tended to the bride's every need. She straightened her train for the umpteenth time, checked that her shiny black curls cascaded exquisitely down her back beneath the sheer sweep of her veil, and that her bouquet of French Lavender, Lily of the Valley, Bells of Ireland, and the same peach-hued Sweet Juliet roses were clutched low at her waist so the intricately-beaded neckline of her bodice wouldn't be obscured. And of course, Gramps, eyes glistening with tears that would soon spill over as he made his way up the aisle with his eldest granddaughter on his arm, stood in for Papa. His back was still strong, and his shoulders remained broad enough to bear the burdens and joys of each one of his Gustafson girls.
The gentle strains of Canon in D wafted from inside the sanctuary, making Gia smile. Her oldest sister and soon-to-be brother in law were two peas in a pod with their old fashioned church wedding, complete with classic wedding songs and traditional vows. Even Trevor's special number he'd written to sing during the lighting of their oh-so-traditional Unity Candle, although heart-wrenching and poignant, resonated with ageless beauty, as though surely, it had been part of a hundred million weddings before today.
Juliette and Vic. For a thousand years and a thousand more. Until the end of time. Gia knew it as certainly as she knew the sun would rise in the east and set in the west tomorrow and the next day and the day after that. They were each other's forever.
She darted a glance up at Ricky. Was he her forever? Would the two of them one day stand at opposite ends of a church aisle, waiting to be joined together before family and friends and God? Oh, how she loved him, she readily acknowledged. Every cell in her body thrummed with joyful contentment when Ricky was near. Her laughter came quickly, her smiles easy, her sorrows and frustrations handed into his care without hesitation, and she knew he felt the same about her. She couldn't remember her past before he was a part of it; she couldn't imagine a future without him in it.
And yet...
A wave of unexpected melancholy swept through her, and she hugged his arm to her side and leaned her head against his shoulder. She turned her face toward his chest so she could breathe in the heady scent of dark chocolate and cedar notes. It was a cologne she'd given him for his sixteenth birthday, one she knew he wore because she loved it so much.
"Are you sniffing me?" Ricky murmured into her hair. He rested his cheek against the top of her head.
"Why, yes. Yes, I am," she giggled, straightening slowly lest she leave a smudge of face powder on his charcoal lapel. "And I must say, you smell delicious. Good enough to take a bite of." She made a low throaty "meow" at him and then snorted at how ridiculous it sounded. She couldn't pull off sexy even if she wanted to.
But Ricky gave her a slow smile, and he dipped his head toward her, dropping his voice so the others in the room couldn't hear him. "You know what? I think you'd like that. I think I might like that, too."
Gia's heart skidded to a standstill at the way he looked at her. He was teasing her, she knew, but she'd seen the shift in his eyes more and more in the last year, a growing awareness of her on a whole new level. She'd catch him staring at her from across the room, studying her mouth as she spoke, as she ate, making her just the slightest bit self conscious, a brand new sensation where Ricky was concerned. And it seemed the more flustered she got, the more confident he became.
Not that she minded. She kind of liked the way her skin flushed under his heated gaze. She kind of liked imagining what he was thinking when his eyes darkened and his lips parted just the slightest bit. She liked the way he couldn't seem to stop touching her--toying with the copper curls that framed her face, stroking the back of her hand when it rested close to his, pressing the length of his thigh against hers whenever they sat side by side. She liked how his fingers drifted down her spine to rest possessively on her back as he walked beside her, so different from the days when he'd unceremoniously throw an arm around her shoulders and haul her up against him.
When he hugged her these days? No longer did he hoist her off the ground in a rough, brotherly bear hug, and squeeze the breath out of her. Not anymore. No, now he stepped into her, hips forward, and slid his hands down her arms to her waist. With his fingers spread wide, he swept his palms across her back, folding her into him, one hand cupping the base of her skull beneath the heavy fall of her hair, and tucking her face into his neck. Full body, nose to toes embraces, that's what they were these days, the kind of hug that sucked all the oxygen out of her in a completely different way. The kind that made her heart race.
Like it was now.
"Take a breath," Ricky whispered, his grin still taunting her. "We're up."
Gia made a small noise, one that almost went unnoticed... but not quite. Renata turned and peered over her shoulder at her, one perfectly arched eyebrow lifted. "Nervous?" she mouthed.
Gia nodded, pressing her lips together in a tight grin that probably looked more like a grimace. She hadn't been a minute ago, but suddenly, her palms felt damp and her ankles and knees grew wobbly. Beethoven's triumphant Ode to Joy suddenly burst from the speakers, and Gia closed her eyes, praying the red splotches of embarrassment crawling up her neck and spreading over her cheeks would be attributed to the emotions of the day, and not the direction her thoughts had wandered.
"You're beautiful," Renata whispered with a reassuring smile, reaching behind her to squeeze Gia's fingers in a quick grab. "Breathtaking." She turned back around, and with one last adoring glance up at her husband, she and Tim led the Gustafson girls and their escorts down the decorated aisle to the front of the church where the handsome groom, Victor Jarrett, stood at attention, awaiting his sweet Juliette.
Gia remembered little of the ceremony except for the way Vic's eyes never strayed from Juliette's face, his expression filled with something so intense, and at the same time so vulnerable, that it almost hurt to look at him. But she couldn't look away. When she did, her eyes met Ricky's from where he stood behind his cousin, Trevor. And what she saw there scared her and thrilled her in equal measures.
But when the pastor said, "You may kiss your bride," and Vic just stood there lost in Juliette's starry eyes, Gia thought it was quite possible that the groom, himself, might not remember everything about the day either, except for the way his bride gazed back at him.
So Trevor, doing best what the Best Man does, stepped close and put a hand on Vic's shoulder. "Kiss her, you fool. Before she changes her mind."
And Vic did just that. He pulled his wife up against him and kissed her, surely and deeply, not once, not twice, but three times, claiming her publicly for all to see, accompanied by the hoots and cheers of the friends and family gathered.
When the pastor cleared his throat, causing Vic and Jules to come up for air, the guests quieted just long enough to hear the other set of greatly anticipated words: "And now I have the honor of presenting to you Mr. and Mrs. Victor and Juliette Jarrett!" To everyone's surprise, instead of the traditional wedding recessional, the charming song, Come to Me, by the Goo Goo Dolls played through the speakers as Vic and Jules practically floated down the aisle. The congregation clapped and sang along as the chorus echoed the request of every star-crossed lover.
Come to me....
CHAPTER TWO
Monday morning came too soon, even for Gia, who was typically wide awake by the end of the opening horn and timpani fanfare of the William Tell Overture Finale blaring from her phone alarm. She called it her marching orders wake up call. She loved the celebratory reprise, and usually, it energized her and motivated her to move. But today, Gia actually listened through the fanfare and into the galloping first movement without opening her eyes. She did, however, roll onto her back and lift her hands to direct the music along with the wild-haired conductor—he always had an Albert Einstein mop-top in her imagination—as the victorious troops marched home in all their due pomp and circumstance.
"Gia, swe
etie?" Granny G knocked firmly before poking her head in the bedroom door. Gia never closed it all the way; she didn't like sleeping in the pitch black and the night light in the hallway cast a comforting warm glow through the three-inch opening. Besides, with the door ajar, she could hear if her grandparents needed her for anything.
Not that they had needed her in the middle of the night at any time in her memory. But they were ridiculously old and cute, and Gia was sure there would come a time when she'd hear one of them beckon her from down the hall. She wanted to be ready when such an event took place.
"Hey, Gran." Gia cracked one eye and focused on her grandmother. "What's up?"
"Are you all right? Your alarm..." Her words faded into a smile as she realized what Gia had been doing. "You're such a goofball."
Gia rolled onto her side and propped an elbow up under her. "Aren't you feeling a little deflated today, Gran? I mean, it was such an amazing and beautiful weekend and Jules and Vic are so perfect together and everyone was so happy. But today, I just feel kinda... I don't know. Flattened, like a sad balloon that's lost most of its helium, like it happened without me even realizing it, and now I'm a useless, droopy, joyless thing." She flopped back on the bed, her red hair fluffing around her head, a few curls tickling her cheeks. "How am I supposed to get up and go to work when I know I'm just going to be dragging around all day, bumping into things, and sighing dramatically?"
Granny G chuckled as she sat on the edge of the bed and patted Gia's cheek fondly. "Oh sweetie-pie. It's normal to feel a little let down after such a joyful celebration. It's been months of nonstop hard work for everyone, and now we finally get to relax and just live life again. It's okay to be a little deflated. Can you imagine how exhausted we'd all be if we had to strive for mountain top experiences every single day?"
"I don't know," Gia shrugged against her lumpy pillow. "It seems like it'd be better than this."
"Ah, the voice of youth," Granny G said, nodding sagely. "It's being young that makes us old, sweetie." She tapped Gia on the nose with a soft-tipped finger. "But I can promise you this. So long as you don't waste your youth, you won't regret being old."
Gia didn't take what her grandmother said lightly. Granny G and Gramps had given up some of their best years to be parents to Gia and her sisters, but the older couple had never even joked about the four girls being a burden to them. To the contrary, when people made insensitive comments, even in jest, about the grandparents having to do parenting all over again, they adamantly denied that it had been anything but a joy, and claimed to feel all the younger for it. Granny G spoke from experience when she challenged Gia to live without regrets so she wouldn't have reason to look back and wish she could do it all over again.
Gia did as she was told—usually—and lived as fully as she could. She practiced intentional gratefulness every day; she thanked God for her family, her friends, the loving home she'd be raised in. She was kind and generous. She smiled often, laughed loudly. She'd made it a habit to view the world through sunshine-colored glasses. She didn't mind being sad, but she didn't allow herself to stay there for too long. She wasn't a drama queen, but she didn't care if everyone else around her was. The diversity of people fascinated her, which was one of the reasons she was so good at her coffee shop job.
And if she didn't get up and get going, she'd be late for said coffee shop job.
Granny G patted her cheek again, and Gia was surprised to see how old her grandmother's hands looked. She almost pulled away, not in revulsion, but in concern. Was it because Gia was now an adult that she suddenly noticed things like age and her own aimlessness? Everything seemed to be changing around her... everything, except for her.
She felt stuck... but safe.
Sheltered... but safe.
Safe... but stuck.
She'd graduated high school almost a year ago now, and Ricky was turning into a—a man—right before her eyes. Her sisters were getting married off one by one and starting—or adding to, in Ren's case—families of their own, and Granny G and Gramps were suddenly stoop-shouldered and scratchy-voiced. Speaking of changing voices, both Ren's oldest boys now squawked when they talked, and the now-teenaged Reuben claimed he had man-hair in places Gia would never see. She'd made a point to assure her nephew that she was fine with that.
Even at Ricardo's, where she was now a manager, she sensed a shift in the atmosphere, a subtle, but still tangible upheaval as part-time employees came and went—high school students leaving the cafe behind to go to college, and university students graduating into the real world. Then there were the sidelong glances she received when she was asked what her plans for the future were... and she had nothing concrete to offer.
"I think I could handle it," Gia said with a sigh. Right now, she felt like the motionless focal point in one of those slow shutter camera shots, lights and action swirling dizzyingly around her, passing her by.
"Well, that's one of the things that make you who you are, Gia. You're the kind of person who always finds something to celebrate, no matter where you are or who you're with. My little joy bubble."
"Always and never are two words you should always remember never to use," Gia quipped, repeating one of her grandfather's favorite Wendell Johnson quotes. She tried to keep her voice light, but even she heard the undertone of negativity. "Maybe one day I'll stop looking for the mountain top experience and just be normal like everyone else."
"Not possible," Granny G said, rising to her feet. Gia heard the disquieting grind of her old knees as she straightened, but Granny G didn't seem to notice. "You can't help yourself. It's who you are." She made her way to the window where she cranked open the blinds to let some sunlight in. "It's a lovely spring morning. Come on. I'm making Grandpa an egg and sausage burrito. I'll make you one, too."
"I don't know. It's kinda late..." Gia began, tugging the covers from her body and sliding her legs out of bed. "I'll just find something to munch on once I get there." She knew all too well that breakfast was Grandpa's favorite meal of the day, and a breakfast of eggs and sausage came with a side of conversation, something she didn't have time for today.
"I'll make yours to go," Granny said, not taking 'no' for an answer. "You shouldn't start your day on that processed food, sweetie." She slipped from the room, leaving Gia feeling more like a kid than ever.
She wanted to be crabby today, but according to her grandmother, who knew her better than her own mother did—mainly because her mother had died when Gia was four years old and she'd been raised by her grandparents—it wasn't possible for Gia to be a glass-half-empty kind of girl. She shoved to her feet, stretched her long arms high over her head, and shook out her hair so it fluffed out like a wild woman's. She really should consider cutting it, or thinning it, or something. But every time she said so, her sisters, her friends, especially Ricky, freaked out.
Forty-five minutes later, she pushed through the front door of Ricardo's Cafe, her hair confined in a heavy French braid, and a wide smile she hoped looked real pasted on her face. She wore fighting clothes today, her short black military kilt with wide pleats that slapped against her thighs as she walked, and an olive green button up shirt with a black lace camisole underneath. The kilt and shirt she'd found marked down to almost nothing on clearance in the men's department at Nordstrom Rack; she'd hemmed the kilt to show a little leg. On her feet were her favorite buckle-adorned combat boots that could have stepped right out of a Tim Burton movie, and to soften the look, she'd donned a pair of vintage rose patterned leggings. Granted, the bib apron required for work would completely ruin the warrior princess affect, but she'd be behind the counter most of the time anyway, so it was all about the entrance, right?
At 7 a.m., the cafe was already hopping, both with regulars who came for Ricardo's excellent coffee and satisfying, if not original, breakfast fare. There were salesmen and soccer moms sharing tables and counter space. College kids getting their morning sugar and caffeine fixes to help them pry their
eyes and minds open for morning classes stood in line with office assistants who picked up to go orders on their way to their corporate jobs. So yeah, a grand entrance made for a satisfying start to her work day.
Sure enough, a momentary hush—she might have missed it if she wasn't listening for it—fell over the room, and then resumed again immediately, but she saw the turned heads and analytical glances. She knew what she looked like. Tall and straight, no longer gangly and loose-limbed, thanks to the surge of hormones that had been released into her system at the end of her eleventh grade. Over the summer before her senior year, she'd finally grown breasts, lost her knobby knees, and discovered the power of good posture and a lifted chin. Although she wasn't exactly Amazonian, she pretty much towered over her three older and rather petite sisters, and had for most of her teenage years. It had been difficult to hold her head high when they were so utterly feminine and curvy and exotic with their pale skin and dark hair, while she lurched around in their shadows like a lanky kid brother. Although she still had a good three or four inches on her siblings, she definitely filled out her clothing better these days.
Gia paused briefly to greet the Monday morning regulars as she made her way through the shop and behind the counter. After paying her dues on the two part time shifts—early morning and closing—she was now a manager and worked the perfect 7:30 a.m. to 4 p.m. day shift Monday through Friday. She wouldn't be on the clock for another half an hour, but she liked getting there a little early. It gave her time to make nice with her favorite customers, and then sit for a few minutes with Ricardo and a cup of coffee, a beverage she was finally learning to appreciate after working at the coffee shop for more than a year. Ricardo sometimes had a list of work-related things to discuss with her, but more often than not, they were just two people chatting over a hot drink and a box of day-old pastries that had been culled from the shelves at closing the night before.
Phoebe and the Rock of Ages Page 27