How to Make a Wedding

by Cindy Kirk

  “I don’t believe I’ve ever asked much of you.” Verna spoke in a quiet tone that gave him pause. “I want this wedding to be something very special for these two young people. Picking out a tux or a suit from a brochure isn’t the same as seeing it on a person. As I stated on our way here, you and Luke are the same size and build.”

  While John had been speaking, Hope’s mouth had opened as if to second his comments. She closed it without saying a word. Since she’d tossed out the D word on the porch last evening, Hope hadn’t said much, even during dinner that evening.

  The conversation at the table had been like a trip down memory lane. Verna had kept the conversation flowing as she brought up adventures the three of them had shared over the years.

  Emotions had flooded back as Verna recounted biking trips along the Boise River Greenbelt, excursions to the World Center for Birds of Prey, and visits to the Old Idaho Penitentiary, including one at night, just before Halloween their senior year.

  John realized that while he and Hope had never run out of things to say, they’d rarely spoken of anything substantial, including past heartaches and dreams for the future. They’d been too focused on simply being in love. Just like now, the air practically sizzled when they were in the same room. But Hope had been determined back then to wait until they were married to make love, and he’d respected that decision.

  A part of him wondered if that’s why she’d been so eager to marry him . . . just so she could have her way with him. The thought made him smile. She’d certainly wasted no time embracing the benefits of married life yesterday.

  “Well?” he heard Verna ask.

  John grinned. “Let’s do it.”

  “That’s what I like to see,” Verna said in satisfaction. “A positive attitude.”

  As they strode into the elegant shop, John realized that by running off the way they did, not only had Hope been cheated out of all this, Verna had been cheated too. The knowledge that he hadn’t considered anyone’s feelings but his own was sobering.

  Though they’d both felt mature and ready to take that step, looking at the situation now, John could see just how immature they’d been. He’d loved Hope and that hadn’t changed. But back then he hadn’t known what he wanted to do with his life, hadn’t even begun to become the man he was now.

  If they’d stayed together, would she have become a CPA? Would he have discovered his talent for metal sculpture?

  He liked to think if they’d stayed together they would have found a way to make it work. He really wanted to believe that . . .

  “Instead of explaining everything to the clerk, let’s let them assume you and Hope are the bridal couple,” Verna suggested.

  Hope frowned. “Why would we do that?”

  “Perhaps because I don’t want to hear all the General Hospital comments,” Verna said in a lighthearted tone. “I also don’t feel like going into a lengthy explanation with one store clerk after another about Luke and Laura’s deployment.”

  “I don’t like to lie—” Hope began hesitantly.

  “I hoped this could be fun.” Verna’s expression had taken on that pinched look that usually indicated a migraine was on its way.

  “We’ll do it your way,” John said in a soothing tone. He shot a glance at Hope. “It’ll be faster.”

  Something passed between them. It was the way it used to be when they could practically read each other’s minds.

  Hope looped her arm through her aunt’s. “This will be fun. I mean, what woman doesn’t like to try on a bunch of pretty dresses?”

  They decided to pick out the tux first since that would go more quickly. Separate from the bridal salon, the tuxedo shop had a more masculine feel with dark-stained wood and fewer indoor plants. No one raised an eyebrow when Verna and Hope began pointing to various tuxedos they liked.

  John drew the line at white tuxes, brightly colored vests, and bow ties. Once those were eliminated, he tried on a variety.

  After fifteen minutes, he stepped out of the dressing room in a black mirage tuxedo, Abboud fullback vest, and black Windsor tie. The look of awe on Hope’s face told him this was the one.

  “Oh my.” Hope glanced at Verna. “He looks incredible.”

  “Very handsome.” Verna gave a decisive nod. Then she surprised him by stepping forward and resting her hand on his cheek. “I wish your mother could be here now.”

  “Yeah, it’d be a proud moment.” John swallowed past the unexpected lump in his throat and forced a tone of levity. “To see her son shopping for wedding clothes for another guy.”

  Verna ignored the comment. “She’d have been proud of the man you’ve become.”

  “Thank you, th—” John cleared his throat and began again. “That means a lot.”

  “Since we have John’s, I mean Luke’s, attire decided,” Hope said with a little smile, “I believe it’s my turn to play dress-up.”

  “Are you really . . . excited?” John asked Hope in a low tone as Verna finalized this part of the order with the clerk.

  Hope looked slightly embarrassed. “Let’s just say I’ve decided to embrace the moment. I must confess that when I was a little girl, my friends and I often played wedding dress-up. I’d imagine myself in a beautiful white gown . . .”

  The light from her eyes faded but a hint of a smile remained on her lips. “Kid stuff.”

  He wondered if a high-school prom dress in red had ever been part of her wedding fantasies. He’d guess running away in the darkness, lying to family and friends, and being married by a guy with a goatee named Buddy had never played a part . . .

  Strange he’d never considered any of that at the time. Proof that he hadn’t been as mature as he thought.

  John returned to the dressing room to change. As he tugged off the shirt and vest, he found himself wishing that he could give Hope the wedding of her dreams.

  But it was too late now. Ten years too late.

  Stacee, the salesclerk on the bridal side, was a pretty young woman in her midtwenties with light brown hair and big blue eyes. She stared at John with a horrified expression. “You—you’re going to help her pick out the dress?”

  John angled his head. “Is there any reason I shouldn’t?”

  The young woman hesitated and cleared her throat. “Some consider it bad luck for the groom to see the bride in her wedding dress before the ceremony.”

  “I’m not—” Hope saw John pause as Aunt Verna leveled a long, pointed look in his direction. “—superstitious.”

  “Me either,” Hope chimed in.

  Stacee’s smile froze on her face. “Well, then let’s get started.”

  Hope tried on so many dresses that after a while they began to blend together. Still, she had to admit she was having fun. Verna’s mood was upbeat and she insisted on helping Hope into the gowns. John played the part of Luke-the-attentive-groom to perfection.

  He sat in a comfortably stuffed gray chair, with a glass of iced tea, and watched her parade in and out of the dressing room in her finery. Hope felt like a princess in all the dresses. But when she strolled out and John gave a low whistle, she knew she’d found THE ONE.

  The strapless lace dress in a circular tea length had a timeless, classic feel. The short satin gloves only added to the allure.

  “I love this.” Hope fingered the flower and feather attached to the silk cummerbund around her waist, then cast a worried glance at her aunt. “But what if Laura would prefer a long gown with a train?”

  “What do you want?” Aunt Verna asked.

  “This dress,” Hope said, puzzled by her aunt’s seeming disregard for Laura’s wishes. “But I’m not the bri—”

  “I have been given carte blanche on all decisions,” Verna announced.

  “You or John could take a picture of me in the dress, then text it to her,” Hope said. “See what she thinks. This is, after all, her special day.”

  “But if this were your special day, you’d be happy with this one?” Verna pressed, her expre
ssion intense.

  “Absolutely.” Hope gently stroked the skirt of the beautiful dress, her smile wistful. “I envy Laura getting married at Christmas. To me, that’s the most wonderful time of the year for a wedding.”

  “I remember you once telling me that,” her aunt said with a little smile.

  John rose from the chair and pulled out his phone. “Smile pretty,” he said to Hope.

  After considering where she should put her hands, Hope settled for resting them at her sides and smiling as John snapped pictures of her from all angles. He even took several pictures of her and Verna.

  Finally, Hope laughingly held up a hand. “Enough. We should have at least one good picture for Laura in all of those.”

  He smiled back at her, making her heart skip a beat, then pocketed the phone. Pausing, he cocked his head. “Do you think we should have taken some shots of me in the tux?”

  “I don’t think Luke will care,” Verna said dismissively. “Now, if you’d chosen something flashy, I’d say yes. But I believe we’re okay.”

  “It’s a great tux,” he said. “I liked it.”

  “It looked as if it were designed for you,” Hope said, then flushed when he gave her a sardonic smile.

  She wondered if he’d choose something similar whenever he married in the future. The thought was so disturbing, she cast it aside.

  “I’ve had a wonderful time,” Aunt Verna said.

  Hope glanced at her aunt’s flushed cheeks and love swamped her. In many ways, Aunt Verna had been more of a mother to her than her own.

  No, she wouldn’t ruin the day by focusing her thoughts on the future. She would have plenty of time for that later.

  That night Hope’s dreams were filled with images of her wearing the dress they’d chosen for Laura. John stood in the parlor by the ornate marble fireplace. He wore the dark tux and she saw love in his eyes as she walked toward him, clutching a gorgeous bouquet of red roses.

  His hand reached for hers and she quickened her step. Only inches separated them when he vanished and was replaced by Chet. Horrified, she stopped midstride.

  “Where’s John?” she demanded.

  Chet’s laugh was an ugly sound that made her cringe. “Forget him. He’s your past. I’m your future.”

  “No-ooo!” The word tore from her throat and Hope jerked upright, her heart galloping.

  It took several seconds for Hope to realize it was only a dream. She looked around her bedroom—not the parlor—and took several deep breaths. Sunlight streamed in through the lace curtains and a robin chirped happily outside her window.

  Finally calm, Hope began the morning as she did every day by thanking God for all His blessings, including good friends and an aunt she loved dearly. Though her personal life right now was fraught with challenges, she had no doubt that God would walk this path with her.

  Still, didn’t everyone say that God helped those who helped themselves? She was going to go with that. And for her, organization was critical to figuring out what to do about her marriage.

  Hope’s spirits lifted. Nothing cleared her mind like making a list.

  After meeting with the representative of JPK Wealth Management to discuss the sculpture for the lobby of the company’s new office in Boise, John returned to Harmony. On his way home he stopped by the church to speak with Pastor Dan. Other than impressions John had gleaned from listening to his sermons, he didn’t know the young minister. But after an hour of one-to-one, John left feeling not only at peace, but as if he’d found a new friend.

  He wanted to make a go of his marriage to Hope, but at the same time, he didn’t want to be selfish and tie her to him because of some technicality. When he’d said the same to Dan, the pastor had smiled and said something about God working in mysterious ways.

  Because there was no one John trusted more than the Lord, he decided for now to simply have faith that his being married to Hope was part of some larger master plan. Because of the vows he’d made, he would give this marriage his all and try to convince Hope to do the same.

  After all, as Verna had said, what did they have to lose?

  Feeling more cheerful, John returned home to finish unpacking.

  After praying for the strength and wisdom to do what was right, Hope sat at her desk and began to compile a list. Asking the Lord to help her do what was right felt a bit odd. Did she really believe God was going to say, “Hope, I want you to walk away from your marriage, from those vows you made, without even attempting to make it work”?

  Still, when she thought about her parents and those fights over money . . . When she thought how John hadn’t even been able to scrounge up enough money to pay the guy who’d married them . . . When she thought about how he’d left town before the ink was dry on his diploma and without even saying good-bye . . .

  Why should she try? How could she trust him? Why should she willingly put her heart on the line knowing it could be easily shattered? Wouldn’t it make sense to simply walk away before either of them got hurt?

  Sleeping with him had been a huge mistake. Not only because it had made getting an annulment impossible, but because it dredged up all those old feelings. The truth was, whenever he touched her, emotions and desires made rational thought nearly impossible.

  If they did decide to try to make their marriage work, they would need to establish some rules and guidelines for their interactions. She had to protect her heart.

  Forty minutes later, Hope put down her pen and glanced at the list that now spilled from one page onto the next. If she had more time, she’d key it in, organize, and color-code the various requirements.

  But first she had a group of seniors to take through the barn. They were planning a large fund-raising dance in the spring to raise money for an airlift of Idaho Korean War vets to Washington, DC, next summer.

  Hope had just finished showing six chattering women and one long-suffering man through the barn. She was waving good-bye when John rode up on his Harley. Drat. Speaking with him about their marriage had been at the top of her list. But seeing him dressed in all black and looking so sexy drove all the items she’d so carefully composed from her brain.

  Instead of rabbiting for the house as was her inclination, Hope waited by the driveway while John pulled to a stop and removed his helmet. “You were out and about early.”

  His lazy grin did strange things to her insides. “I had some business in Boise. What about you?”

  “I just booked the barn for a Spring Fling fund-raiser,” she said, then, remembering the list, added, “and did some thinking.”

  He studied her. “That sounds serious.”

  “It was,” she said before amending, “it is.”

  “It’s much too nice a day to be serious.” He gestured to the sunny sky. “Take a ride with me.”

  “I don’t have a helmet.”

  “I have an extra one.”

  “I really should stick around here.” She made a vague gesture with one hand.

  “Do you have an appointment?”

  “Someone might stop by.”

  “If they do, I’ll handle them,” Hope heard Aunt Verna say as the older woman walked up from the orchard with a basket of pears. “Go and have fun. While it’s beautiful today, it is October and the weather we’ve been enjoying lately could disappear in a snap.”

  Hope chewed on her lip, stalling. No doubt John would want to discuss their situation. She hadn’t had time to fine-tune her list, to prioritize, to practice the exact words to use. “I’m sure John needs to work.”

  “I do,” he admitted. “But I’m still waiting on a couple pieces of equipment. They’re supposed to arrive later today. Until they do . . .”

  “While you’re out, I’d really appreciate it if you’d stop by Petal Creations. Take a few minutes to pick out the flowers for the wedding.” Verna’s tone implied everything was settled. “If you get hungry, I’d love it if you’d check out Fatbellies, a new place that opened on Elm. My bridge club is thinking of meetin
g there, but I’d like an unbiased review of the food first.”

  Hope cocked her head, her spidey-sense tingling. It was almost as if her aunt were sending them off on a date. “What about your dinner?”

  “Don’t worry about me.” Verna tossed John a pear. “I have book club this evening and it’s Mexican night. I’m bringing my guacamole salad.”

  John caught the fruit easily and glanced at Hope. “Looks like it’s just you and me, babe.”

  Chet would never call her “babe” or have such a devilish twinkle in his eye. Hope discovered there was something about being the focus of all that male energy that had blood sliding through her veins like warm honey.

  In her mind she’d assumed their talk—whenever it occurred—would take place in the parlor. Still, if the bistro wasn’t too crowded and they could chat without being overheard, a public place might be better than having her aunt in the next room.

  She turned to John and smiled. “Where’s my helmet?”

  Hope had to admit that riding on the back of a motorcycle was an experience. Before they left home, she changed into jeans and boots. Worried she might get chilled, she’d slipped a jacket over her long-sleeved shirt.

  When John told her to put her arms around his waist and hold on, Hope was unprepared for the intimacy of the action. After a few minutes she relaxed and let herself enjoy the closeness. They’d almost reached the business district when her thoughts drifted to the list, the one she’d left sitting on her dresser.

  Drat. Drat. Drat.

  She desperately tried to recall what she’d written down. Perhaps when they stopped to look at flowers she’d have a chance to jot down a few quick notes and put them in some semblance of order.

  But when they reached Petal Creations, there was no time for notes. The clerk looked confused when they explained they were picking out flowers for the wedding of “friends,” but quickly rallied.

  They agreed Laura would carry a cone-shaped bouquet of deep red amaryllis blossoms interspersed with ruby berries of hypericum and delicate bits of arborvitae. What did it matter they’d have been Hope’s first choice if she’d been the bride? The colors were perfect for a Christmas wedding. Vases scattered throughout the parlor would contain other seasonal favorites. Hope was sure Laura would be pleased with arrangements overflowing with blooms of hydrangeas and cattleya orchids in icy white.