"I walked out on him. Can you believe that? Well, I'm sure he told you."
Again, Kerry shook his head.
"He didn't?"
"Nope."
"Oh."
"But he did ask me something."
"What?"
"He told me not to tell you."
Incredulous, Sara exclaimed, "So why did you say anything?"
Kerry shrugged and with a wink said, "Just to torture you."
With eyes narrowed, Sara tilted her head and sighed, "And to think I missed you."
The siblings stayed up well past midnight catching up on everything, exchanging stories. It wasn't until she sensed that he was ready to call it a night that Sara grabbed his hand and said, "Hey, listen. I just want to say how sorry I am. For everything."
Kerry gave her hand a squeeze. "Me too."
With her eyes starting to fill, she pressed her lips together and tried to explain the unexplainable. "I made a really stupid mistake. I knew I should've told you, come to you for help. I just didn't want to disappoint you again. So I tried to fix it on my own."
She swatted at the tears coursing down her cheeks as she whispered, "Tried to make it go away. And that just made everything worse."
Again, Kerry held out his arms. "Come here."
"Everything's gonna be OK," he breathed as he rested his cheek against the top of her head.
Sara gave him a hard squeeze. "I love you so much."
"I love you, too, Trouble."
Getting up early the next morning so Kerry could get back up to the marina that was gearing up for its busy season, she hugged him tight, thanked him for making the trip, and promised to visit very soon.
Before pulling away, he rolled down his window and motioned her over.
"What?"
"He loves you, ya know?"
Sara took a deep breath and blew it out before looking her brother in the eye. With a dismissive shake of her head, she said, "He wouldn't if he knew what I did."
Kerry just smirked at her. "That, little sister, is where you're wrong."
Feeling a wave of hope wash over her, she gripped his flannel shirt-covered arm that was resting on the window opening. "How do you know? Did you tell him? Did he say something? Did you guys talk about me?"
Arching an eyebrow, he pulled his mouth into the patented Kerry Cleff shit-eating grin and said with a wink, "You're just gonna have to trust me on this one."
"No. Come on. Don't do this to me."
Leaning out the window, he gave her a peck on the cheek. "See ya, little sister."
As he pulled away, he called out, "You better invite me to the wedding."
* * *
With Mass not starting for over half an hour yet, Andrew looked out over the pews that were beginning to fill with parishioners and creasters— people who only went to Mass on Christmas and Easter, feeling fairly confident that his chances of being offered a full-time position at the parish were slim to none. Especially after news of him having a female roommate, who was clearly more than just a roommate, surfaced after their very public display of affection at the gala.
With nothing to show for it other than a broken heart and a vow to never again try to recruit choir members in the frozen food section of the grocery store, he took solace in knowing that he was at least able to help mend a bridge between Sara and her brother.
Seeing the Bishop's vicars milling around at the back of the church, he took a look at the choir, dressed in their finest, all warmed up and ready to go. He pressed his lips into the semblance of a smile for the few who were smiling at him until his eyes fell on the empty chair next to Glynnis.
Without Sara in his life, he wasn't sure he even wanted to stay at this parish, let alone in Chicago.
With a sigh, he started shuffling through his music to make sure, one more time, that he had everything in order.
Thumbing through it, he saw that he didn't. "Fanfare" by Nicolas Jacques Lemmens was missing. Panic welling up inside him, he looked at Marge who sprang up from her seat and rushed over to the organ bench where he was perched. "What's wrong?"
"I don't have the recessional music."
"I'll check the choir room."
The memory of him taking it out of his binder while sitting at his desk came rushing back. "Never mind, Marge. I know where it is. Be right back."
I don't have time for this.
Cutting through the crowded narthex, he had just closed the main office door behind him when it opened again, and he heard a familiar voice exclaim, "Happy Easter, Andrew."
* * *
Where did all these cars come from?
Sara couldn't find a parking space within a 4-block radius of St. Matthias until she happened on a little VW Bug pulling out of a space just down the street. Backing in with just centimeters to spare on either end, she hopped out and made her way to the church as quickly as she could.
On finding that the narthex was nearly as crowded as the Paul McCartney concert at Wrigley Field, she elbowed her way into the church itself, knowing that was the only place on the planet where she wanted to be. Where she belonged.
Finally squeezing her way through the door, she looked toward the front, hoping to see Andrew and catch his reaction, if any. But he wasn't there.
What the hell? Where is he?
Unable to comprehend him not being there on Easter of all days, she closed her eyes and hung her head back as she fought to keep her emotions in check.
Claire was right. I waited too long. I've lost him.
Not sure what to do next, she just stood there, panting like an idiot, watching a small contingent of liturgical dignitaries mill about. She stepped out of the way. Crestfallen, she decided to check his office on her way out.
Relishing the quiet and solitude of the main reception area, she closed the door behind her and started making her way down the corridor to his office, out of which Andrew had just stepped with music in hand.
"Sara. What are you doing here?"
He was wearing a crisp white button-down shirt—which she wanted to wrinkle terribly by gripping it with both hands and pulling him to her. And she would have, too, if he looked as happy to see her as she was to see him, but he didn't.
So she started talking. "I wanted to say I'm sorry. We had a deal, and I completely dropped my end of the bargain."
He lifted his chin and held her gaze while pulling his office door closed. "The deal ended today, so no worries. You're off the hook."
Ouch. Didn't see that coming.
"And I wanted to thank you for bringing Kerry back into my life."
For a split second, she noticed his eyes narrow. She kept going.
"That was the best gift anyone's ever given me."
Something was going on behind those baby blues, but she couldn't put her finger on it. So she kept going.
"But that doesn't even come close to the gift that you were—"
She took a step toward him. "Are to me."
Save for his jaw clenching, his face remained expressionless, waiting.
So she kept talking.
"Before we met, I was a hot mess, which I never really minded until you came along and screwed everything up."
Seeing his eyes soften, she kept going.
"That night? When I told you I had done things that made me believe I didn't deserve you. Well, I know better now. I've been to confession, and, thanks to you, I've reconciled with my brother. Because of you, I feel like I have a chance at a brand new life."
With just one more thing to say, she ignored the door that was opening behind him.
"But all that doesn't mean a thing if you're not in it."
Just as he opened his mouth to respond, a pretty blonde head popped out of his office doorway and flashed her an apologetic smile. "Sorry to interrupt." The petite body that went along with it came out and stood next to Andrew.
Leanne.
Feeling like she had just been punched in the gut, Sara couldn't help but stare as the Barbie
doll reached up, gave Andrew a kiss on the cheek, and whispered, "Take care."
Coming to her senses, Sara turned and started for the main office door, barely able to see straight.
"Sara, don't go."
Leanne came up behind her. "It's not what you think. I just came to apologize. And to say good-bye." Nodding back to where Andrew was still standing, she smiled and said, "He's all yours."
Then, with a quick wave, she opened the door and went through it.
After that, Andrew couldn't talk even if he wanted to because Sara had given in to her urge to wrinkle him. Most terribly.
* * *
After the last chord of "Fanfare" finished reverberating throughout the church, Andrew noticed Marge waiting at his elbow.
"Weren't you wearing a white shirt earlier?"
He just smiled, thinking of the new reason he had to keep spare dress clothes in his office.
When Sara came out of the choir room after putting her music away, he slid off the bench and took her in his arms. Right there in front of everybody.
"Ready to go home?"
Through a blushing grin, she replied, "I thought you'd never ask."
When most everyone had gone, the two were walking arm-in-arm down the main aisle of the church when Father Steve came rushing up to him. "Andrew, wonderful news. The Bishop told the parish council members attending the reception that he's going to recommend you for a special commission to play at Holy Name Cathedral."
He stopped walking. "Is that right?"
The priest laughed. "Yes, and they've agreed to extend you a permanent position here. Isn't that wonderful?"
With that, he smiled at Sara and said, "This day just keeps getting better and better."
* * *
On a warm, humid Saturday in June, Claire had just slipped a firecracker-red, taffeta bridesmaid dress over her head in the bridal room at St. Matthias.
"Sara, can you zip me up, please?"
"Sure thing." She moved behind her to tug the zipper up as Claire tried yanking the bodice up higher over her enviable cleavage.
"Thank God they have the air-conditioning cranked. I can't believe Paul and I got here late. Tomás and Marc took off for Boy Scout camp this morning, so when I went to remind Luke that he'd be watching Jonah, he reminded me that he'd been invited to his buddy's lake house starting today, so then I had to track down our neighbor Jacquie to see if she could take Jonah. Then, on the way here I realized that I completely forgot to get panty hose."
After checking her reflection, she continued, "OK. It's official. Lucy DeRosa is a miracle worker. If you look at me straight on, you can't even tell I'm seven months pregnant."
Sara glanced at her standing there in a strapless floor length gown that, while not fitted like the rest of the dresses, looked lovely on her.
"I know, I'm boring you to death, right?" Claire asked.
Sara just smiled and checked her lipstick in the mirror next to her. "No worries. Hey, did you get my letter?"
"No. When did you send it?"
"About ten minutes ago."
Claire picked up her phone to check her inbox and read:
Dear Plate Spinner—
My boyfriend and I only have three things in common: our address, the fact that he's a musician and I write about musicians, and that we both agree James Taylor is, hands down, one of the best acoustic performers ever. Otherwise, we're total opposites. He's reserved. I'm bold. He's neat as a pin. I'm not. He comes from a big family. I don't. He wants to get married and have kids, and I so do too.
Signed,
Deliriously Happy
"And it shows," the advice columnist exclaimed. "Look at you. You're beaming. Almost more than the bride."
Sara lifted her shoulders in a happy little squirm as Aubrey joined them and announced, "I think they want us in the narthex."
Just then, the door to the adjoining bathroom flung open and Mattie stepped into the room with her sister, Claudia, following as she cinched the last button on her bodice. "There. All set, hon."
"How do I look?" the bride-to-be asked.
After the others had finished gushing over her, Sara just shook her head with a disapproving look on her face. "Poor Nick."
Mattie's eyes grew wide. "What do you mean?"
With a laugh, Sara explained. "He's waited so long for this day, and you're going to go out there looking like this? Torture. Sheer torture to make him stand up there with you in front of a priest and not be able to lay a hand on you for what—an hour?"
After Mattie let out a guttural laugh, she leaned over and kissed Sara on the cheek. "Thanks. I needed some comic relief."
As soon as they stepped into the narthex, Sara's mouth pulled into a smug little smile when she heard the organ music start to play.
While Andrew had seen her gown, he had yet to actually see her in it.
"All right," said Mrs. Trotter, the effervescent church-appointed wedding coordinator. "Does everybody remember the order from last night?"
Being the tallest, Sara would go first, followed by Aubrey, and then Claire, after which Claudia would follow, and then Mattie on the arm of Lester Crenshaw.
They each stood obediently still as the coordinator checked to make sure their red tulle wraps covered their shoulders before handing them their bouquets.
"Oh, you girls look so pretty," she grinned.
Sara turned and looked at Aubrey, noting that she was paler than usual. "Here's a trick, Aubs. Just focus on my back. Don't look at anything else, OK?"
Aubrey gave her a nervous smile and whispered, "Thanks."
After a moment, Mrs. Trotter swung open the door to the church and put Sara in position. Looking straight ahead, she could see Tom, Mattie's brother-in-law, waiting for her by the front row wearing a traditional black tuxedo. Behind him stood John, a running buddy of Nick's, then Claire's husband Paul, followed by Nick's best friend and best man, Scott who, at that moment, nudged the fidgety groom and nodded to the back of the church.
Then Sara switched her focus to the only man she had eyes for, but from where she stood, his face was hidden behind the music in front of him. In a well-coordinated move, she heard Mrs. Trotter whisper, "Go ahead" at the exact same moment Andrew hit the first note of Pachelbel's "Canon in D."
Here we go.
Sara took a deep breath and stepped onto the white runner covering the main aisle. It wasn't until she was halfway to the altar that she was finally able to make eye contact with Andrew.
Seeing him do a quick double-take, she shouldn't have been surprised when she heard him miss a note. Still, she waited until she was standing just a few feet away to turn and mouth, "Amateur," before she puckered her lips and delivered a quick air kiss which he promptly returned with a grin.
"You did great," she whispered to Aubrey as soon as she joined her in front of the altar.
They watched as Claire and then Claudia joined them.
Everyone in attendance stood as soon as they heard Andrew start Mendelssohn's "Wedding March." One glance at the groom and Sara knew with absolute certainty that Mattie would be loved to bits for the rest of her life—a sentiment made that much sweeter when both the bride and the groom's voices broke while saying their vows. It was everything she could do to not picture herself and Andrew standing in front of Father Steve, exchanging vows.
Someday…
"You may kiss the bride," she heard the priest say. While everyone else's attention was on the crazy happy couple, Sara couldn't keep her eyes from drifting to the man she had tried to ditch at Bell's Market just four months before. Seeing that he already had his eyes on her, she felt her cheeks warm, likely turning them as red as her dress.
"How about a round of applause for the new Mr. and Mrs. Nicoli DeRosa?"
Thankful for the diversion, Sara turned and before long, heard Andrew play the recessional music. After filing out in the reverse order, Sara lined up with the others to form a receiving line in the narthex and then head back into the church fo
r pictures.
A short time later, she was riding shotgun in a dark-blue Jeep flying north on I-94, heading for the reception at the North Shore Club.
As part of her ongoing effort to educate him on the classics, Sara selected a CD for the drive.
"Today's lesson," she announced before shoving it in the slot in his dashboard, "is Led Zeppelin's Houses of the Holy."
He glanced at it with his eyebrow arched. "Why do I have a feeling there aren't any hymns on it?"
"That is correct."
Along the way, Sara did her best to ignore the way he winced when Robert Plant let loose on "The Rain Song." And the way he managed to bounce his left knee whenever he wasn't breaking or shifting gears.
"Are you OK?"
Before he had a chance to answer, she took a sharp breath and exhaled, "Oh my," at the sight of the sprawling mansion that apparently served as a high-end clubhouse.
Ken doll central.
Andrew got out and walked around to her side after handing a valet his keys. "Are you nervous?"
She pulled a face as she adjusted her wrap around her shoulders. "Pfft…please. I've sung in front of crowds before. And it's just the one song."
"But it's their first dance as husband and wife," he countered as he lunged in front of her to open the door. "Talk about pressure."
She stopped and frowned at him. "What's with you? You're the one who seems nervous. Are you OK?"
He gave her a quick nod. "Yep. I'm fine."
Not convinced, she suggested that they find the rest of the bridal party who were, not surprisingly, congregated by the bar.
After a glass of wine, Andrew seemed back to himself, and, when they started serving dinner, he gladly took his place at a table with Father Steve, a couple of Nick's aunts, and Mrs. Lester Crenshaw. Seated at the bridal table, Sara looked at him every time someone clinked their glass with a spoon to get the newlyweds to kiss, thinking of little more than what she would do to him when they got home later.
In the meantime, she took another swig of champagne and waited, as instructed, for the director of the band Lester had hired to call her over. At Mattie's special request, she would sing the one song she could always count on to snatch the karaoke trophy away from the Sports section.
Key Change: an Assignment: Romance novel Page 21