Bride Has Two Faces: A Wedding Caper Sequel

by Briggs, Laura

  “I just thought I’d come see your work,” she answered, with a shrug. “Actually, I–”

  “You do realize that it’s storming tonight, right?” he said. “This isn‘t the best time to drive out to a rural site for a chat.”

  “Then I’ll go before it arrives,” she answered. “Besides, the same could be said of you, being out here like this.”

  “I’m waiting for lightening,” he answered. “And I have a tent a few yards that way.” He pointed off through the trees in the direction of a second clearing faintly visible in the distance.

  “Lightening sounds like meteorology,” she noted. “Not exactly stargazing weather, is it?”

  He rubbed the back of his neck. “Actually, I’m studying the effect of meteors in the atmosphere on storm clouds,” he said. “That’s my grant’s purpose, so that’s why I’m here.”

  She glanced at the sky above, where the first violet clouds were visible on the horizon. “So where’s the meteor?” she asked.

  He laughed. “It’s a satellite chunk entering our atmosphere,” he answered. “Pretty routine stuff, but I have a theory that the appearance of something in the atmosphere can change predicted storm patterns–make them more severe than forecasters anticipate.”

  She grinned faintly. “So it’s the perfect marriage between your two loves. Weather and stars.”

  He shrugged. “Pretty boring stuff to the average person. Including the third love of my life.” Stuffing the notebook in his pocket, he tested the strength of one of the lightening rods in the ground.

  “So why did you say you came?” he asked. “I missed that part earlier.”

  She scuffed the heel of her boot into the grass. “I came because ... I need to talk about the wedding plans.”

  “Without Charly?” he asked. “Not now you don’t.” He offered her a teasing smile before his gaze moved skyward again.

  “It’s about Charly, actually,” Beatrice answered. “Daniel, I think–I think maybe you don’t know her as well as you think.”

  For a moment, he ceased to pay attention to the heavens. “What do you mean by that?” he asked.

  “There are some things you don’t realize about her. About the way she behaves towards other people.” She could see his face darken as he listened, the first traces of a scowl visible in his features. Overhead, she heard the rumble of thunder in the distance.

  “I’ve seen Charly with other people,” he answered. “Plenty of times. Remember, we’ve been together for awhile.”

  She raked her fingers through one side of her hair, loosening the pins holding it in place. “It sounds crazy, I know. I mean, saying you don’t know what she’s like. But I’ve seen things you haven’t, Daniel. I can swear to that.” She felt a drop of water splash on her nose. Another splattered on the toe of her hiking boot.

  “Can you?” His voice was edged with irritation. “You’ve only known her a couple of weeks.”

  “That’s enough, trust me,” said Beatrice. With a sudden clap of thunder, she felt rain pelting her shoulders, her head–everything around her, including Daniel.

  “This isn’t about the past, is it?” he demanded. “This isn’t a rebound for me, Beatrice. I’m not that stupid. Or as big a dork as half my class preferred to see me.” The water was dripping from his hair and jacket in a curtain of drops.

  “I didn’t say that,” she snapped, raising her voice above the rain. The loud boom! of thunder above made the ground tremble beneath them with its volume.

  “I should go,” she shouted. She turned towards the path, stumbling hastily in the direction of her car. She heard his footsteps behind her; her feet sloshed in water, her boots searching for traction in the flow of brown mud descending.

  Daniel grabbed her elbow. “Too late,” he said. “Rain this heavy will wash out the road. It’s not safe to drive down this mountain in those conditions.” He steered her up the path, diverting away from the field of metal rods.

  “What are you doing?” she said.

  “Avoiding disaster,” he answered. “This is the long way to my tent–we don’t want to take the shortcut.” A split-second after these words, the first bolt of lightening struck one of the rods. A blaze of purple and white electricity snaking into the ground like a long wire from the heavens.

  Despite herself, Beatrice allowed a scream to escape her throat; she felt Daniel’s hands trembling on her shoulder as they moved through the trees and underbrush. Another heart-pounding clap told her that a second rod had been struck somewhere behind them.

  An orange tent was flapping in the storm winds, staked in a clearing that already seemed waterlogged with puddles. Daniel lifted the flap, shoving Beatrice towards the entrance. Crouching low, she crawled inside.

  “Sorry,” she gasped. “I can go back to the car–”

  “No, no,” he answered, crawling inside after her. “It’s all right. The path down to the car is probably a slide of mud soup by now.” He tucked the flap closed, shutting out the rain pounding on the tarp sides.

  She wrapped her arms around her knees, hugging herself as she crouched on the tent floor. “I should have watched the weather today,” she joked, half-heartedly.

  “Just think,” he answered, “if things had turned out a little differently, you’d be watching me at six o’ clock tonight.” She felt a shiver travel from the base of her spine at the thought of the tape still in her VCR at home.

  “It’ll stop in a few minutes,” she said. “Then I’ll go home and leave you to your studies.” She was curious to ask him how this experiment worked. Did the battery-like box count the number of strikes? Did he have data from previous storms for comparison already? She bit her tongue, remembering her purpose for coming here had nothing to do with that subject.

  He was sitting on the sleeping bag across from her, shaking the water from his jacket into puddles on the tarp floor.

  “There’s a towel behind you,” he said. “You can dry your hair–your shirt. Anything to feel a little warmer.” Until that moment, she hadn’t realized she was shivering.

  “Thanks,” she answered, glancing around before she spotted the terrycloth roll in a pile of Daniel’s gear.

  He tossed her a lightweight bedroll. “Wrap that around yourself for a blanket,” he said.

  “I won’t be here that long,” she answered. “I don’t want to get it wet.”

  He shook his head. “No reason for you to freeze while we’re waiting,” he said.

  Huddled beneath its folds, she had to admit she was warmer. The rain beat steadily against the tent roof with no signs of abating; across from her, Daniel had turned on a battery-operated lamp as the light from outside vanished in the storm’s darkness.

  “So what you were saying earlier.” His voice broke the silence, accompanied by a slight cough. “You came all the way here just to say that to me.”

  For a moment, she didn’t respond. “I did,” she said. “It just seemed right. I thought you should know what others see when they meet Charly.”

  He wet his lips, his gaze turned towards the shadows on the tent wall. “What kind of things are you talking about?” he said.

  “Like the way she smashed that cake the other day,” said Beatrice. “It wasn’t an accident. It was deliberate, just because it was the wrong flavor.”

  “She told me about that,” he answered, his tone already dismissive. “It was just a misunderstanding. She was upset they got the order wrong, they weren’t listening–”

  “I was there, Daniel,” said Beatrice. “She knew what she was doing. I could see it in her face.”

  “Everybody makes mistakes,” said Daniel. He settled himself more comfortably on the rolled-out sleeping bag. “People lose their tempers every day. It just happens.”

  Beatrice rolled her eyes. “Not like this, trust me. I saw her in a dress shop–she took a razor and tore up a dress that a girl she didn’t like was buying. All because it was the one she wanted and somebody else got it.”

 
He frowned. “Are you sure about that?” he said. “That doesn’t sound like her. Maybe it was just a trick of the lighting in the store. Damaged merchandise is always ending up on racks–”

  “I. Saw. Her.” Beatrice recited this slowly. “She was just mad at some girl. At the bridal run she was shoving girls over left and right, wrestling the same girl for a gown–and keyed her car afterwards.”

  Daniel burst into laughter. “Now I know you’re joking,” he said. “Key a car? Seriously? I don’t think Charly even has the imagination to think of that.” He tugged off his wet hiking boots. “Charly was the kind of girl who was always getting teased in school and could never think of a way to get back. In first grade–”

  “Yeah, well she’s thought of some ways since then,” Beatrice interjected. “I’m not lying. I’m not making this up. I think maybe Charly has been lying to you about stuff. Maybe even about the reasons she left Pittsburgh.”

  “People leave jobs all the time,” he answered. “They leave other things behind, too, for no good reason.”

  This remark had an uncomfortable effect on Beatrice, who bit her lip as she debated her answer. To admit he was right meant she would have to give up her point about Charly. Not something she wanted to do at the moment.

  “You know, when you left, it was one of the biggest disappointments of my life,” said Daniel. “Still is.” She glanced towards his face, reading a mixture of humor and heartache in his eyes.

  “It wasn’t about you, Daniel,” she said. “I was just restless. You know me. Drifting around, always looking for something new.”

  He nodded, his eyes averted from hers as he listened. “Maybe so.”

  She wrapped the sleeping bag more tightly around herself, the rain above shifting to a patter on the roof. In the dim light of the lantern, Daniel’s face seemed hollow. Older, somehow, as if a great deal of time has passed between their relationship and this point. She felt a rush of years, memories sweeping past like leaves born on the storm’s breeze.

  “Would it surprise you,” she began, “to know I’ve probably thought about you every day since then. No exception?” Her arms were locked around her knees, the dampness on her skin now a warm vapor. She felt Daniel’s gaze on her, an intent stare that her own eyes could not meet.

  “It would,” he answered.

  She rested her chin against the folds of sleeping bag, her voice muffled by the fabric. “I don’t want you to get hurt.“

  “Thanks.” There was something in his tone –maybe regret–or merely sadness, she reminded herself. With that, he rolled over to face the other way. Above them, the rain tapered off; and Beatrice imagined the first stars became visible again from behind the clouds.

  *****

  “Ma? It’s me–relax, it’s not an emergency.” Beatrice was resting her hand on the pay phone’s wall, her forehead pressed against its surface despite the warnings about germs she had read time and again.

  “Bee? Are you all right? Where are you?” Her mother’s voice sounded thin and faint, as if carried by a strand of connection from far away.

  “I’m at a pay phone at a campground–there’s no cell reception, I’ve been stuck here half the night in the rain, and I think I’m still in love with Daniel.” The words came tumbling out in a whiny, high-pitched voice that seemed to be winding up for tears–so uncharacteristic that Beatrice wandered vaguely in the back of her mind whether someone else was speaking.

  “What on earth are you talking about?” her mother demanded. “A campground? It’s in the middle of the night, Bee. Daniel’s not there with you, is he?” This last part was delivered with a note of suspicion.

  “It’s a long story, Ma.” Her voice was shaking, despite returning to its normal threshold. “Let’s just say I don’t know what to do right now. I hate my job, I don’t know how to tell him the woman he’s marrying is a total creep. And I definitely don’t want him thinking I’m jealous because–”

  “Please insert additional change to continue.”

  “What?” Beatrice was momentarily taken aback. The interrupting voice was polite and feminine, with an automated tone.

  “Please insert additional change to continue. Your call will be...” Her mother’s voice had vanished from the line, the automated message repeating itself as she rifled through the pockets of her parka, in search of quarters or dimes.

  “Ma, are you there?” she asked, hopefully. When a dial tone sounded, she hung up the phone with a growl of frustration.

  Leaning against the damp phone booth’s partition, imagining Daniel sleeping peacefully with dreams of Charly, she had to admit it was not her weekend.

  *****

  She was late to Charly’s apartment on Monday morning, aware that her blazer and slacks were rumpled from lack of pressing. The bad news on the cake still awaited Charly, along with a list of cover songs to be sorted out for the orchestra. Beatrice chugged coffee from her paper cup, crumpling it into a ball for the wastepaper basket before pressing the door buzzer.

  Charly’s smile was tight upon greeting her. “Why, look who made it,” she said. “I was beginning to think I should send out a search party for you, young lady.” She stepped aside as Beatrice entered, shrugging her bag onto the nearest chair.

  “I know,” she began, apologetically. “It was kind of a hectic weekend for me. See, I had this thing...” That was as far as she had gotten in her story, the one she had been making up in the elevator as she shaved precious minutes off her schedule.

  “Hey, Charly, where’s the creamer?” Daniel emerged from the kitchen, a cup of coffee in hand.

  “On the top shelf by the stove. And aren’t you going to say hello to Beatrice or are you planning to be rude?” Charly gave him a pert little smile, her hands on her hips.

  He chuckled. “Sure. Hi, Beatrice. You look nice this morning. Nicer than–” Daniel’s lame joke dissipated like a candle snuffed out by a sudden breeze. An uncomfortable blush spread across his face; Beatrice squirmed in her armchair.

  Had he told Charlene about the other night? She had been guiltily dreading that confession scene all during the wee hours of Monday morning, but clearly Daniel had chosen to omit it when he returned.

  Charly’s glance moved from Daniel to Beatrice, then back again. It was Daniel who broke the silence.

  “I should’ve said, nicer than I do,” he finished. “Since all I did was throw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt this morning.” There was no tie beneath his blazer for a change, no mini designs of space or weather themes.

  “I’m kind of a mess this morning, too,” said Beatrice. Driving home at three in the morning had left her only an hour and a half to nap, shower, and dress before facing the day. Daniel, she thought mincingly, at least had the advantage of possessing a change of clothes in the post-rain wilderness.

  “Well, I guess we’ll get started, then,” said Charly. “Sticking around for the big song discussion, honey?” she asked Daniel.

  “Nope,” he answered, kissing her cheek. “Just throw in ‘Stormy Weather’ somewhere for me. And maybe ‘I Only Have Eyes for You.’ That’s my song, you know.”

  “Why?” teased Charly. “Because I’m such a pretty picture for the eyes?”

  “No–” Daniel began, the first traces of a smile tugging around his lips. Simultaneously, Beatrice spoke aloud as well.

  “No, because it mentions all three loves in his life.” she said, absently. A moment later she realized this moment of thinking out loud was a mistake. Charly was silent in the embarrassed pause that followed, staring at Beatrice, then Daniel in turn.

  “Was that what you were going to say?” she asked Daniel. To Beatrice’s surprise, he blushed.

  “Kind of. Yeah.” He shrugged his shoulders. “It was just a bad joke, honey. It’s okay.” He kissed her cheek again, offering her a final smile before he slipped out the door.

  The smile on Charly’s face was less than pleasant at this moment, although it was still intact. “Adrien was supposed to be
here today, but she couldn’t make it,” she said, turning to Beatrice after a moment. “Something about a little snafu with the bridal shower, apparently. Clauda’s going to sort of stand in for her this time.”

  “Sounds great.” Beatrice’s tone was too perky, certain to arouse suspicion. If Charly noticed, however, there was no trace of it in her face. She rose, lifting a half-finished cup of coffee from the table.

  “Excuse me for a moment,” she said. Beatrice sat as if riveted to her chair, the portfolio on her lap still closed. She heard the sound of dishes clattering noisily, something clanking against the sink. The trilling sound of Charly’s phone followed.

  “Hello?” her client’s voice was faintly audible despite the closed kitchen partition. “No, I can‘t talk to you about ...well, it’s not my fault she keeps running off all addle-brained about the wedding. Why didn’t you tell her it was too soon?” Her voice was hushed, unlike the high, cheerful tones Beatrice was accustomed to hearing from Charly.

  “I know, I know...yes, I think she’s selfish, but that’s not the point. You have to ... Look, I have to go. Someone’s here right now.” Charly came into view through the open kitchen doorway at this moment, causing Beatrice to avert her gaze the opposite direction, guiltily. She heard the sound of the water running in the sink, drowning out the sound of Charly’s voice.

  When her client emerged, her smile was normal again. “Well, I guess we should get started on that song list, shouldn’t we?” she said. “For the first dance, I was thinking–” That was as far as she got before the door buzzer sounded.

  “Goodness, I’m just all popularity this morning.” She bounced up from the sofa and answered the door. Instead of Clauda joining the party, however, there stood Adrien.

  The maid of honor seemed slightly out of breath as she entered, tugging a loose chiffon scarf from around her neck. “I’m so dreadfully sorry I’m late,” she said, casting her glance in the direction of both Beatrice and Charly. “The cab I caught was stuck in traffic–”