Paige Turned

by Erynn Mangum

  “What’s after the shower?” I ask her, climbing off the bed and grabbing my bag with the customary button-down shirt inside.

  Layla was very specific that if I showed up to her house wearing something that didn’t button down, she would revoke my maid-of-honor rights.

  “Kylie and Reagan should be here in about twenty minutes,” Layla says. Her two cousins are the other bridesmaids. “And then we are all driving over to that nail salon down the road that Mom likes so much and getting our nails done.”

  Layla and her mom are definitely nail-salon people. I went with them once in high school and found the whole thing to be a little uncomfortable. The massage chair was nice; the random stranger caressing my legs was not.

  “He wasn’t caressing; he was massaging.” Layla rolled her eyes at me after the fateful day. “It’s one of my favorite parts of getting a pedicure.”

  Well, it isn’t one of mine.

  I guess I better shave today. I may find it uncomfortable, but I will find it way weirder if I am all prickly and they are rubbing my legs down.

  Ew.

  I climb in the shower, shampoo, rinse, and repeat, and I’m walking out of the bathroom, legs shaven and in my button-down shirt and jeans, exactly fifteen minutes later.

  Layla is standing at the door, looking at the clock on her cell phone. “What did you do in there? Scrub each strand of hair by itself?”

  “I have this feeling that I am not going to like you very much today,” I tell her.

  “‘A good bride cares about the details,’” she quotes to me. “Today’s Modern Bride, volume 36.”

  “Are Kylie and Reagan here yet?” I ask.

  “They are on their way. We will leave as soon as they get here.”

  Kylie and Reagan pull up five minutes later, and Layla orders all of us into her mother’s Suburban. Mrs. Prestwick drives us all down the street to the nail salon.

  “Hi, guys,” I say to the girls. Kylie and Reagan are cute. They are about two years younger than us and Layla’s only female relatives.

  She told me when she first started planning her wedding that she really didn’t care who was up there with her except for me, but then she decided that it would be nice to have family in the wedding album.

  “Someday my kids are going to look at those pictures. And I want everyone who was in my wedding to be people they still know,” she said.

  “Hi, Paige,” the girls say in unison now.

  “Early morning,” I say to them and they both nod like bobbleheads.

  “Early!” Layla rolls her eyes. “I could have made all of you get here at six! I expect thankfulness, troops!”

  I wait until Layla turns back to the front and then I roll my eyes at the girls who both giggle.

  We pile out of the car and in less than forty-five minutes, we are all climbing back in with French manicures and bright red toes. Layla got a rhinestone flower on each of her big toes.

  I just gritted my teeth through the whole experience. Seriously. Why do they have to rub your legs like that?

  The makeup and hair people pull up to the house as we are climbing out of the car, and we spend the next couple of hours being combed, curled, shellacked with hairspray, and painted with makeup. Layla looks like royalty as she sits in one of the kitchen chairs, hair in the most ornate style I’ve ever seen in person, getting her lipstick painted on with a little brush.

  “You look amazing,” I tell her.

  “You do too. Do you like the hairstyle I picked for you guys?”

  I nod. It was an all-down, curly style with a little swoop in the front held back with a bobby pin that had a real lily attached to it.

  I felt kind of like I belonged in a Disney movie.

  We got to the church at three and were immediately surrounded by three photographers who snapped every aspect of us getting ready.

  It was awkward, to say the least.

  I pull my dress on and Kylie zips it up for me. Mrs. Prestwick is tying and tightening the corset back on Layla’s wedding dress.

  She looks like a princess.

  We’re shuttled outside where we take a million pictures. Layla and me. Layla and all of the bridesmaids. Layla and her family. At some point during the family pictures, Luke brushes by and I manage to slip him Layla’s car keys I stole out of her purse earlier.

  He grins at me. “You look beautiful,” he says, but there isn’t anything other than just friendliness in his expression.

  I smile.

  Then we’re hurried back inside so the groom’s pictures can be taken without Peter seeing Layla. We sit in the room and I start getting antsy.

  Layla, however, has morphed into the Queen of Calmness. It’s freaking me out. She should be dancing off the walls with nerves, and she’s calmly sitting on a stool that we shoved under her dress, talking quietly with her mom.

  Layla is never calm.

  This can only be bad.

  I grab a can of hairspray and start spritzing her hair, just for something to do.

  “Paige? Paige, surely there’s enough spray on there already. I can barely hear from the film on my ears.” Layla shoos me away.

  “Want me to touch up your lipstick? Rub your feet? Read you a story?”

  She laughs at me. “If you need something to do, you can run out there and make sure the organist has gotten here.”

  I jump for the door. “Thank you. I’m on it. Thank you!”

  The sanctuary is already half full. People are milling around, finding seats, laughing with each other. I see my parents, and Preslee and Wes and I wave.

  There’s a lady sitting at the organ so I’m going to assume she is the organist. It’s a good assumption because a few seconds later, the opening strains of some piece of classical music I’m sure I probably studied in my Classical Music Appreciation class and promptly forgot after the test echoes through the sanctuary.

  I hurry back down the hall and slam straight into a suited, hard chest.

  “Well, this is not good.” Tyler pushes me back to arm’s length.

  I’m immediately panicking. “Did something get messed up?” I’m twisting around, trying to see if something’s wrong with my dress.

  I need a mirror.

  “I just thought it was considered not a good thing if the maid of honor looks more beautiful than the bride,” he says.

  I go from panic to blushing in less than half a second. My whole face burns, and I’m thinking that when the makeup artists were talking about how pale I was and how much I needed the extra blush, they weren’t counting on the fact that my very sweet boyfriend was going to be in the audience.

  “You haven’t seen the bride yet.”

  He shrugs. “Doesn’t matter.”

  He leans down to give me a kiss on the cheek, and I stop him a hair away from my skin. “Wait! There’s like eight layers of makeup on my face, and if you mess it up, I’ll be in trouble.”

  He sighs. “Fine.”

  “See you at the reception, Tyler.” I smile at him and hurry back into the room we’re camped out in.

  “How’s it look out there?” Layla asks, still totally chill.

  “Good. The organist has started playing.”

  She grins at me and my red face. “You apparently saw Tyler.”

  “Maybe.”

  “I’ll take it that he approves of the dress.”

  “Probably.”

  She laughs. I take a deep breath and give my best friend a hug.

  “It’s time for you to begin panicking,” I tell her quietly. “I rehearsed this whole speech to calm you down, and I’m not going to get to use it if you can’t at least have a few heart palpitations.”

  She shrugs. “I’m fine. Actually, I’m beyond fine. I’m starting to think that Dad drugged my macchiato this morning.”

  Mrs. Prestwick laughs. “I wouldn’t put it past him, but I highly doubt it.” She touches her daughter’s cheek. “I think this is just the sign that Peter is the right man for you, honey.”
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  Someone knocks on the door and Rick is standing there when I open it. “Showtime,” he announces in a loud voice. Then he lowers his voice to me. “How’s she doing?”

  “She’s making me crazy,” I whisper. “She was nuts all morning and I about killed her three times, and now she’s so dang calm that I’m about to have a panic attack for her.”

  He starts laughing. “The fun of being the maid of honor.” He leaves and I turn to the room.

  “It’s time. Let’s all gather around Layla and say a prayer for her before we go.” I have been planning on doing this for the last few months. I grip Layla’s right hand and lay my hand on her shoulder. Mrs. Prestwick, Kylie, and Reagan all swarm around her as well.

  “Lord, we just are here on this very special day to ask for Your blessing on the marriage of Peter and Layla. May they always put You first, may their marriage bring glory to You and praise to Your name. Guard them and guide them, Father. Amen,” I say quietly.

  Layla looks at me and I see the sheen of tears in her eyes for the first time today.

  “I love you, Paige,” she whispers, pulling me in for a hug while Kylie and Reagan start for the door.

  “Ditto, Layla.” I hug her once more.

  We grab our beautiful bouquets, line up, the doors open, and I look back at Layla, who is now holding on to Mr. Prestwick’s arm once more.

  She’s grinning the biggest smile I’ve ever seen on her. And if I was ever worried about my friend with Peter, I’m not anymore.

  The ceremony goes by in a fog. All I can do is stare at the back of Layla’s veil and reach robotically for her flowers while she takes Peter’s hands.

  “We are here to celebrate the marriage of Layla and Peter.” Rick grins at my best friend and her almost husband.

  They both grin at each other all stupidly and sweetly, and that alone makes tears swim in my eyes. Rick talks about their friendship, how they have put the Lord first even when things got tough.

  “And now the fun part.” Rick winks at Layla. “Layla, repeat after me. I, Layla Clarise Prestwick . . .”

  “I, Layla Clarise Prestwick,” Layla says, her voice calm and sweet as she squeezes Peter’s hands.

  I’m furiously blinking away tears as she repeats the meat of the vows. “For richer or poorer, sickness and in health, for as long as we both shall live,” she says.

  Peter is getting all misty-eyed. He repeats his vows and then slides a second ring on Layla’s finger.

  “Well,” Rick says. “I guess we’ve now come to the best part.”

  The crowd chuckles. Peter grins and blushes sweetly.

  “Peter, you may now kiss your bride.”

  And he does a good job at that. He grins a boyish smile, wraps his arms around his new wife, and dips her down in a kiss that gets the audience whistling.

  Layla grins at me as she grabs back her flowers, and just like that, she’s gone. Racing down the aisle to her new life.

  Tyler winks at me while I walk back down the aisle, holding on to Peter’s brother’s arm.

  Which of course sends heat flushing through my face again.

  We walk into the church library where Layla and Peter’s marriage license is sitting. They sign it, Rick signs it, and Peter’s brother and I sign it as witnesses.

  “Well,” Rick says, grinning at the new married couple. “Let’s party!”

  The crowd has already moved to our beautifully decorated gym. The lights are low, the music is loud, and everyone applauds when we all walk in as the DJ announces our entrance. Mr. Prestwick prays for the food, and a few minutes later, plates are overflowing and Layla and Peter are dancing away on their first dance.

  It’s like time has gotten stuck on fast-forward.

  They open up the dance floor and before long, the whole place is packed.

  “So.” Tyler materializes beside my chair at the head table.

  I grin at him. “So.”

  “Beautiful job in here.”

  I nod. “It looks magical.” And it does.

  “I was thinking that maybe we should continue our tradition of dancing at Prestwick events.” He grins and I smile. The first time I ever danced with Tyler was at Mr. and Mrs. Prestwick’s anniversary party.

  “I could probably be talked into that,” I say.

  He takes my hand and leads me out onto the dance floor, slipping his hand around my waist and pulling me close.

  “One down, one to go, right?” Tyler’s smile is sweet.

  I nod. Preslee’s wedding is next month. Tyler is going to drive down with me on Friday morning. “Apparently the new trend is fall weddings.”

  The song ends and a way more upbeat dance hit comes on. I look at Tyler and he grins. “Rhythm isn’t really my strong point,” I confess to him.

  “That makes two of us. Let’s get some air.” He nods toward the door and I follow him out, glancing back to see Preslee and Wes doing some fancy two-step alongside Peter and Layla.

  It’s not that I don’t want to dance those dances. I just don’t really like looking ridiculous like I know I always do.

  We slip out into the dark night. The church parking lot is full, and the moon is shining down. Our church has spent a lot of years getting the landscaping around the church to be absolutely beautiful. I spend a lot of lunches sitting on one of the outside benches in the grass.

  Tyler reaches for my hand and we slowly walk, talking about the wedding, about the food, about really nothing in particular.

  “I’m excited for you to meet Stef,” Tyler says.

  “I’m excited to meet her too. What time does she get in?” I stop at one of the benches and sit down. The heels I have on are not necessarily the most comfortable.

  “Around ten. They have a key to my place, though, so they’ll just let themselves in.”

  I nod. Tyler is still standing and he is smiling at me kind of weirdly.

  “Is everything okay?” I ask him, fidgeting.

  “I’m excited to introduce you to Stef.”

  I feel like we’ve already covered this. “I’m excited to meet her too,” I say again, making sure I annunciate clearly. Maybe the crickets and cicadas are drowning out my words.

  “There’s just one problem.”

  I frown, my brain going to a million places. He has food poisoning. He’s wearing a rented suit and has to return it tomorrow so I won’t meet her after all. Stef has decided she doesn’t want to meet me. Tyler is embarrassed to introduce me to his sister.

  He reaches for my hand and pulls me back up to stand because obviously he has no idea the kind of work it is to stand in heels on grass.

  “What’s the problem?” I ask in a quiet voice. His face has gone very serious, and I’m suddenly a little worried.

  “I don’t want to introduce you as my girlfriend.”

  Well, that is weird.

  I do my best to control my voice. “Oh—okay . . .”

  “What I’d really prefer,” Tyler starts and his whole face splits into a huge smile, “is to introduce you to Stef as my fiancée.”

  I just stare openmouthed at him as he drops to his knee, leans his curly blond head back, and grins up at me, a diamond ring appearing out of nowhere.

  I’m pretty sure I gasp, but it’s like I’m hearing it from a long way away.

  “Paige Alder.” He takes a deep breath. “You are the most stubborn, adorable, rule-following, selfless, busy, Jesus-loving, insanely beautiful girl I have ever met, and I can think of nothing I would rather do than spend the rest of my life making you laugh.” His grin fades into seriousness. “Marry me, love?”

  I’m nodding before I really realize that I am. I’m still nodding as he bursts into the biggest smile, still nodding as he stands, and still nodding as he slides the most beautiful ring I’ve ever seen on my finger.

  He pulls me close, slipping his hand behind my neck, tangling his fingers in my hair as he leans close and kisses me.

  And it’s perfect.

  We pull away a li
ttle later, and he presses his forehead against mine. “So,” I whisper, when I can trust my voice. “I love you, you know.”

  He squeezes my hands. “I know.”

  He smiles at me and offers me his arm. And I look at this man, this wonderful, God-given man who taught me so much about myself. How I need to have a relationship with the Lord before I can serve Him. How I have to let go of the past and learn to forgive. How I should relax and enjoy life because our time here is so short.

  I grin at him and tuck my arm around his.

  It’s going to be a good life.

  About the Author

  Erynn Mangum is married to her best friend, Jon. They have two children who make them laugh every day. Erynn loves to spend time with her family and friends, particularly if there is coffee and chocolate involved. She’s the author of the LAUREN HOLBROOK, MAYA DAVIS, and PAIGE ALDER series. Learn more at www.erynnmangum.com.