by L. Duarte
“Will, are there children at the shelter?” I ask.
“Yeah, this is a shelter for families.”
“Wow, I never thought of families being homeless,” I utter.
“I know. But many families are stricken by some sort of hardship and they end up here.”
“It must be devastating for a child to be without a home.”
“The quarters for families with children are quite accommodating. Dan makes sure they have enough funds for that. Besides, many families are here for a transitional period only. Dan implemented a program to assist with the transition, including helping to find a job or a home.”
After greeting the family, we enter the building. The aroma of homemade food makes my stomach growl. Between making the arrangements for the wedding and helping with the Thanksgiving meal, I haven’t eaten much.
“Are you really OK with giving an interview? Dan believes it will encourage people to participate in future events, but you don’t have to do it.”
“It’s OK, Will. I don’t mind. My name has been associated with less worthy causes,” I say.
Scanning the room, I spot Mel behind a long table, heating food with warmers. She beckons to us.
“I am going to help Maritza,” Will says and goes through a sliding door. I see Maritza smacking his fingers when he reaches for a piece of pie she has just sliced. Niki and I join Mel.
“Hi, thank God you are here. Dad has been going crazy waiting for you. He is so excited about the interview.” Mel hands each of us a white apron. “Here, we need to wear aprons.”
I fasten the apron, and a smirk crosses my face.
“In a very weird way, I’m kind of excited about this volunteering thing,” Niki says.
Mel laughs. “Statistics shows that the happiest people on the planet have one thing in common: giving of their time or money.” She helps Niki with the apron. “It releases powerful endorphins.”
“Huh, so that’s what I’ve become, an endorphin junky?” I say.
Will lays a tray of string beans over the food warmer, and turns to me. “Baby, Lucas just called. Tarry arrived, and they will be here in about forty-five minutes.”
“Super, I thought they wouldn’t make on time.” I glance at my watch. It is almost one, the time we will start serving dinner.
“Hey, gorgeous, were you able to talk to Tim?” Will asks Mel.
“Yeah, he is homesick, I could tell.” For a brief moment, Mel eyes are sad and her voice becomes strained. “But they are serving a nice meal for them today.” She sighs, and I have a knot in my stomach. I imagine how difficult being away from Will would be, especially during my pregnancy. For real? Did I just contemplate pregnancy? I can barely recognize myself, and the truth is I love this new me.
“Portia, sweetheart, there you are.” Dan grins when he sees me.
“Hey, Dan, I hear you are looking for me.” I smile broadly right back at him. Jeez, his grin is contagious.
He introduces me to the reporter, and I spend a half hour speaking about the important work being done on behalf of the families of the shelter. The reporter chuckles when I show him the blister on my hand from peeling potatoes. After finishing the brief interview, I join Mel and Niki behind the table.
People of all ages, races, and background gather around the tables. They talk and laugh. Gratitude permeates throughout the room. There is a sense of fellowship and survival. In my case, I feel as if I have adopted an improved me. Happiness—true and undiluted—takes over my body.
“They are here.” Mel points to Lucas and Tarry walking across the room.
“Tarry, over here.” I wave to him and dash in his direction.
Ignoring all the eyes turning to us, I throw my arms around his neck and hold him in a tight embrace. I try to surround him with all the love I have absorbed in the last month.
“I missed you so much,” I murmur.
“Whoa, peaches, I missed you too.” He reciprocates the embrace, making me wonder if one can die from happiness.
“I am thrilled you’re here.” I release him.
“Hi, Nillie.” He embraces Niki and lifts her off the floor.
“Only you girls to drag me to such an utterly remote place. Where the hell are we?” He grins at me. His hand sweeps his shaggy hair out of his face. I recognize his nervous gesture, and smile. My famous singer friend is just as socially awkward as he was back in the seventh grade.
“Oh, shush, we are giving back to the community. Tonight we are servants of a greater cause.” I giggle when he rolls his eyes. I grab his hand, and tug him toward the table. “Mel, this is Tarry.” I grab the extra apron from the table, “Tarry, this is Melody, Will’s sister.”
“Nice to meet you, Melody.” He holds her outstretched hand for longer than he should. Mel goes crimson. What the hell, I shoot a menace stare at Tarry.
“Likewise,” she murmurs, and I think she is a little too star-struck.
“Lucas, thanks for giving Tarry a lift,” suppressing a smile, I smooth Tarry’s wrinkled white shirt. From legendary pop star to waiter, who would have thought?
“Oh, Lucas have you met Niki?”
“Hi, Niki.” Lucas’s eyes have fastened on Niki’s face, even before I introduce them. What the hell! Am I seeing the world through a lens of sparkling chemistry?
“We will begin serving in a few minutes. I am glad you guys made on time,” Mel says and hands an apron to Lucas.
“The true miracle of a holiday, zero traffic in New York.” Lucas drapes his arm around Mel’s shoulder.
“Yeah man, I thought we were on a NASCAR race.” Tarry struggles to tie his apron.
“Lucas, you’re supposed to be a law-abiding citizen,” Mel reprimands him with a trace of humor in her voice. “Where are all the good cops when we need one?” She smiles shaking her head.
“They are both police officers, Mel finished the academy right before she got pregnant,” I explain to Niki and Tarry, and we all laugh.
Will joins us behind the table. Dan stands near us, holding a microphone. He introduces us and thanks those who contributed to the feast. Dan is an eloquent speaker, and before the end of his speech, tears burn my eyes.
The man, who interviewed me earlier, adjusts his glasses. His eyes twinkle at the sight of Tarry and me, white aprons in place, standing behind the table. He directs the photographer, on the shots to take. I guess they are from the Connecticut Post. Part of the agreement between Dan and the reporter was for complete secrecy of my being here. In addition, the reporter promised only to feature the article in the paper’s Sunday edition. By then, Will and I will be long married.
Internally, I roll my eyes, wondering what the headlines will say regarding my volunteer work. I never know whether the media will portray what I do—whether it’s being good or not. Rarely do I care, but today I do. I know how important it is for Dan to promote the needs of shelters. And, hell yeah, between Tarry and me, we can bring plenty of attention to a cause.
The guests form a line and exhaustion creeps on my bones. I have been up since five helping to prepare the Thanksgiving dinner and doing last-minute things for Saturday’s wedding. But I smile as we serve the Thanksgiving dinner. Surrounding me are my best friends, Will’s family, and Will—and I am giving the sweat off my brow for a noble cause. Maybe, not sweat, but you know what I mean. So yeah, I’m terribly—and unusually—happy.
Two hours and three thousand scoops of mashed potatoes later, we are released from our duties.
The crowd has thinned out, so we sit at an empty table. Maritza serves us our dinner. After eating, we decide as a group, to go back to Dan and Maritza’s place and hang out for a while.
Mel declines to join us, claiming her back is in excruciating pain. I don’t doubt she is uncomfortable. She has become huge. But, I think there is different reason. Throughout the afternoon, Tarry stared at her with his sexy, seductive silver-gray eyes. I am furious. She is married, and very pregnant. What a man whore he is. I make a mental not
e to tell him at my next opportunity to back off.
At home, I crash on the couch. “I’m beat. I won’t complain about my filming schedule anymore. This volunteering is brutal.”
“Oh, baby, you did great,” Will chuckles. “I loved when people stared, unsure if you really were you.” He collapses next to me and drapes his arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer to him.
“Did you see that teenager sighing at the sight of Tarry? I guess taking a picture with him will get her points for popularity at school.”
“I gotta say, man, I kind of liked serving those people. I have volunteered before, but this felt real, y’know?” Tarry sinks on the other couch and pulls Niki to his lap.
“Well, we’ve been doing this long enough and it never gets old.” Lucas lounges on the couch beside me.
“So, Lucas, is everything ready for Tarry to crash at your place?” Will asks.
“Yeah, I am off to work at eleven, though. Sorry, man,” Lucas says.
“No prob. I am cool. Ditching the hotel will help keep a low profile, so Miss Movie Star here can have a private wedding.” He grins at me, warming my heart.
“I am so happy, that not even paparazzi could ruin my day,” I say.
“Dude, according to the news, the reason you canceled the sold-out show in Copenhagen, Denmark, was to go into rehab after overdosing,” Lucas says to Tarry.
“Yeah, sweet, huh.” Tarry laughs. “My publicist released a statement declining to comment,” he chuckles and shrugs, the irony of the statement is not lost. “We didn’t want to raise any speculation of my whereabouts.”
“Unbelievable how the media works,” Lucas utters.
“Yeah, we can use some of the distorted tidbits and manipulate it in our favor. That’s how it works, man,” Tarry turns to me and asks, “Is Stefan coming?”
“Oh yeah, Marina, Stefan, and Chloe will be here tomorrow at noon. They had a hard time finding last-minute tickets.” I say, reclining against Will.
“Tell me about it, I almost had to charter a jet to get here,” Tarry says.
“Yeah, I was about to do charter one for Stefan when he found tickets. I could never get married without you guys and him here.” I glance at Tarry, and he stares at me with his sad, lonely eyes.
“I would not miss it for the world, darling.” He smiles at me.
Niki yawns and I soon follow her.
“Are you tired, baby?” Will’s arm is around my waist and he pulls me into his lap.
“Dead tired.”
“Go to bed, peaches. I am going to Lucas’s place. I’m beat from the flight and all the manual labor you put me through.” Tarry lifts Niki from his lap and stands up.
“Come for breakfast tomorrow morning.” I stand up and embrace Tarry.
“I will drive him, after my shift. Tell Aunt Iza to make me some tacos.”
“Christ, Lucas, how can you think of food, after all we ate?” Will teases him.
“Gotta replenish the body, man.” He flexes his biceps. “Good night, beautiful bride.” He gives me a bear hug. “And remember, there is still time for you to change your mind and trade-in Will for a better looking member of this family.” Will shoves him away and possessively grabs at my waist.
“Back off, man.” Will sneers, but is unable to stifle his smile.
“Nah, I am good, Lucas.” I grin.
“Suit yourself.” Lucas kisses Niki, who turns pink.“Get some rest. Saturday we need to put a checkmark on that list.” Tarry grimaces. “What is it called again?”
“Shut up!” Niki smacks his arm.
“Hey, you picked the name, Nillie,” he laughs.
“Go away, Tarry,” Niki says, jokingly.
“See you guys tomorrow.” Tarry smiles and I notice something is off with him.
The red door in front of me pulses with life. My fingers, wrapped around my bouquet of white lilac, tremble. I don’t remember being as nervous as today, not even when I dined with our Commander in Chief and the First Lady.
“You look out of a dream,” Niki murmurs beside me.
“Is Will inside?” I ask in a shaky voice.
“Of course he is, peaches.” Tarry, so handsome in his black tuxedo, cups my face. “The poor man is nervous as hell.” He kisses my lips. “You’ve never been so beautiful, and I’ve never been happier for you.” His eyes pierce through me, reaching inside my soul. He is as lost as I once was. Though he is genuinely happy for me, I know him too well to sense a deep sadness seeping through him.
“Ready?” Mel glances at me.
“Yes.” I draw in a deep breath.
I hear the organ, and nervously wait. I step to the side waiting as Tarry and Niki go in first, followed by Lucas and Mel.
The red door is closed as I stand waiting expectantly to go in. Closing my eyes, I inhale again, and try to calm my tangled nerves. My legs are shaking and my heart gallops so fast it feels ready to take flight at any minute.
A sharp pain grips my heart as I think of Dad. I wish so badly he was here. I decided against inviting him to walk me down the aisle. I am not ready to forgive him, nor am I ready to hear him refusing to be part of such a special day in my life. To my surprise, there is no regret, but it hurts like hell. I won’t dwell on it. My life with Will is all I want to think.
“Over the Rainbow,” performed by IZ, wafts my way. Tears burn my eyes, but I suppress them. There is no way I will ruin my makeup. The door swings open, and my stomach turns somersaults.
The soft fragrance of white roses permeates the church, providing me with a fragrant invitation. Candles glimmer in the air, tinting it golden. Anticipation pools in the pit of my belly. Seized by an overwhelming desire to be near Will, I take the first step that leads me toward the man I love.
My eyes glance quickly through the church. The few guests stand, their eyes fixed on me. Stefan and Marina dab tears from their eyes. Dan grins from the pulpit, and Maritza cries intensely on the first row.
But my eyes are instinctively drawn to the tall figure of Will. I run my tongue across my lips, and smile. His hands sweep along his thighs. He is nervous. His warm gaze, filled with promises, captures mine. An expression of adoration fills his eyes, slowly melting my insides and pulling me his way. I am utterly lost to all that surrounds us. With new confidence, I stride down the aisle, knowing that my gypsy days are over. With Will, my heart has finally found a home.
For a moment, I forget to breathe and I forget where I am. Hell, I forget my own name. The exquisite beauty of Portia enthralls me.
Mystified, I watch as Portia floats down the aisle. Grace surrounds her and Botticelli’s Venus pales before her splendor. I am certain that no mortal has ever embodied beauty as fully as has the woman walking my way. The lovely white gown molds her body perfectly and a veil flows around her. I hear my heart thudding as I wait patiently for her to come to me.
Heaven and earth align the moment she takes my outstretched hand. Our fingers intertwine, speaking an ancient language of love and surrender. She offers me a slow, sensual smile. I grin back at her and we turn to face Dan.
I have an extremely hard time focusing on Dan’s words and I wonder if other grooms have had the same problem. My whole being is tuned to Portia. Her hands tremble, and I gently squeeze her fingers in reassurance. She glances at me and I wonder if anyone has ever adored his bride as wholly as I do Portia.
The ceremony is heartwarming and beautiful. But, in all honesty, all I can think is that in a short time, Portia and I will be alone…
I will never tell Dan this, but I find his ceremony long, excruciatingly long. My eyes wander from him to Portia. In a haze, I repeat the traditional vows and her pure voice tugs at my heart when she says her vows.
“Portia, you have selected a personal vow for Will?” Dan asks.
Surprised, I turn to Portia. Her deep stare seizes mine. She is teary, and my insides clench. I bite my lip, and do my hardest not to cry. Her face is translucent. I can see deep into her clear blue eyes that
she loves me wholeheartedly.
Portia clears her throat, and her crystal voice permeates the silent church.
“Will, in the words of Ruth, ‘Entreat me not to leave thee, and to return from following after thee, for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge; thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God.’”
Unable to contain myself, my hands cup Portia’s face, and I kiss her trembling lips.
“Wait, son, I didn’t get to the kissing part yet,” Dan says, and laughter resonates through the church.
After the ceremony is completed, Will tugs my hand, and leads me into the pastoral office.
“I love the vows you quoted.” He says.
“I wanted to say something special that would encompass all my feelings for you. Mel helped me choose it.”
“Let’s skip the reception.” His arms wrap around my waist and he pulls me to his chest.
“And disappoint the crap out of Maritza?” I draw back and smile. “Not a chance. Let me change, then we’ll go to the reception for a little while.”
“Don’t change,” Will says seriously, his low voice husky.
“Why?” I ask flirtatiously.
“Because, since I saw you in this dress, all I can think is peeling you out of it,” he whispers against my lips.
“OK.” I smile, and he kisses me until we are breathless.
With laced fingers, we stroll to the basement. Unable to contain the thrilling happiness humming through me, I grin. “I’m actually a bit nervous,” I say.
“You look adorable, all flustered like this.” Will grins at me. Oh, my husband is so gorgeous. A wave of primal desire sweeps me.
Before we enter the reception, I hear the happy buzz of our family and friends. As we step into the room, explosive applause greets us.
The cheerful voice of a DJ, who I don’t recall hiring, introduces us. “Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. and Mrs. Miller.”
The song “Home” sung by Phillip Phillips envelops us. Immediately, I know my husband’s contribution to the reception. I glance his way, and we exchange a smile. He once told me that if he were a songwriter, he would have written me this song. My heart overflows with joy. A colossal explosion of emotions bursts inside my chest. This song does things to me.