by Beth K. Vogt
Kendall watched her friend take another bite of her lunch. Swallow. Take a sip of her Diet Coke. Then Rachel looked at her, her sparkling blue eyes dimmed.
“Wasn’t that a terrible thing to think? Now her life begins? Like nothing before the wedding ring counts.” Rachel’s voice sharpened. “This woman is a successful physical therapist with her own practice in Denver. That doesn’t count for anything?”
“You’re not saying anything I haven’t thought myself.” Kendall forced herself to swallow a piece of her burger lodged in her throat.
“Why would we think something like that? We’ve worked hard and accomplished a lot for being in our mid-thirties.”
“Did you think Now life begins when Tony proposed?”
“A little tiny voice in my head started to whisper it, but I stuffed a sock in it.” Rachel stabbed a fork in her coleslaw.
“Good for you.”
“I remember when my sister had her first child. She told me the ob-gyn talked about prodromal labor and how nothing before four centimeters counted as real labor. Can you imagine? You can be having contractions—but somebody decided it doesn’t count.” Rachel crumbled her napkin. “If I think my life begins because I’m finally engaged, then it’s like everything before this is a prodromal life.”
This was one of the reasons Kendall valued Rachel’s friendship: because she spoke her mind, even when it made others—and herself—uncomfortable. She wasn’t outspoken just to be outspoken. Rachel wrestled with life out loud and invited others to join her in wrestling with doubts and truth.
“Were you content with your life before Tony proposed?”
“Yes. And no.” Rachel shoved her plate away, shifting in her seat and staring out across the deck. “God and I went nose-to-nose on the topic of the desires of my heart more than once. I’d been engaged once before—”
“You had? When?” And why didn’t Kendall know this?
Rachel ran her hands through her hair, shaking it away from her face. “During college. Senior year. Oh, my. I was sooo in love with Gary. We were the perfect couple. Everyone told us so.”
“What happened?”
“He proposed. I said yes. And then he expected me to give up my plans to go to medical school.”
“But didn’t he know that was your goal all along?”
“Yep.”
“What happened?”
“Oh, I cried. Prayed. We were both believers, so we talked with our pastor. There was just no common ground. Somehow it became all or nothing for Gary.” Rachel lifted her hands and then let them fall back into her lap. “If I loved him, I would not go to medical school. Period. And I felt like if he loved me, he wouldn’t ask me not to go to medical school.”
“And—?”
“And so I gave him back the ring. Went to medical school. Cried myself to sleep for weeks when I heard he proposed to another girl a year later. They got married. Had a passel of little Garys—five boys. Could you see me as the mother of five boys?”
“So he broke your heart.” Kendall watched her friend and could see that even as she joked about what she’d lost, her eyes glistened.
“I think we broke each other’s hearts. I don’t think I was completely myself with Gary. Back then, I was more about letting a relationship define me than knowing who I was.” Rachel sat up straighter, stiffening her shoulders. “Look at me, like I’m the Answer Woman. I started off wanting to apologize for hurting you. Then I confessed my doubts. Now I’m talking about my past life.”
“It’s what friends do on a beautiful April day in Colorado.” Kendall paused as the waitress refilled their drinks. “We talk about life. The questions that have answers—and the ones that don’t.”
“Speaking of questions, whatever happened with the kid who had the allergic reaction at On the Border? Did you ever hear anything?”
“Believe it or not, he and his brother showed up in my office the next morning.” Kendall wiped her fingers on her napkin. “The ER doc recommended me for a follow-up and we had an opening. Let’s just say I don’t expect Ian Walker to become a regular patient.”
“Really? Why not?”
“His older brother—his name’s Griffin—well, he and I didn’t hit it off. Oil and water. Tomato, tomahto. Bert and Ernie. Wait, they get along.”
“You saved his brother’s life.”
“I’m a doctor. It’s what I do.” Kendall couldn’t hold back a gurgle of laughter. “Sorry. That sounded way too egotistical. I gave the elder Mr. Colonel Walker the name of another doctor. End of story.”
The two women paid their bill and walked back out to Kendall’s Jeep. As they buckled up, Kendall couldn’t resist sharing what had happened on Sunday. “There is one guy who might be interested in me.”
“What are you talking about?” Rachel pulled her hair back in a ponytail and then anchored her cowboy hat on her head.
“Heath Parker, a doctor I’ve met before at some medical conferences, was at church. He invited me to lunch.”
“And?”
“And . . . who knows? He mentioned dinner later this week. We’ll see what happens.”
“Aren’t you excited?”
“Rachel, I’m thirty-six. Could I get excited? Sure. Am I going to let myself get excited? No. I’ve learned the hard way to assume nothing, absolutely nothing, when it comes to men.”
After dropping off Rachel at her apartment, Kendall drove home and quick-changed into a pair of dark gray jeggings, a light, fitted fuchsia sweater, and a wide leather belt. Then she slipped on a pair of black wedge shoes before reapplying her makeup and gelling her hair.
“Here’s the deal, Sully.” She held his don’t-leave-me-home-alone sad face between her hands and scratched behind his ears as she forced him to look her in the eyes. “I’m going dress shopping. I’ll be back later. When I come back, I expect you to let me in. Got it?”
Not above backing up her request with a bribe and the promise of a long walk, Kendall tossed Sully two dog treats and headed to her least favorite place: the local bridal salon. She had nothing against bridal shops in theory. Over the years, she invested in several dresses for friends’ weddings. Not enough to compete with the fictional character in the movie 27 Dresses, and none of the dresses was as outlandish as a kimono. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder when she’d have the opportunity to say “Me” when the saleswoman asked, “Who’s the bride-to-be?”
Rachel, Sonia, and Melissa were already browsing the racks of dresses when Kendall arrived. Rachel’s mom, who was thrilled that her only daughter was getting married at last, stood off to one side. Seeing Kendall, Rachel rushed over and wrapped her arms around her neck in a move that was half choke hold, half hug, as if they hadn’t just spent half the day together. Rachel had changed too, discarding the cowgirl look in favor of a slim-fitting midnight-blue faux-wrap dress paired with black heels.
“Now we can finally get started.” Rachel grabbed both of Kendall’s hands and pulled her farther into the wedding frenzy. A quick count revealed five other women trying on different styles of gowns, and all of them looked much younger than Kendall. Why was she not surprised?
“You shouldn’t have waited for me, Rach.” Kendall followed her friend to where the other women arranged chairs in front of a mirrored dressing room with a pink heart-shaped card taped on it. When Kendall looked closer, she realized Rachel’s name was scrawled across the heart.
How . . . cute.
“The attendant is already selecting different styles for me.” Rachel pointed to a chair on the end. “But I didn’t want to try anything on until everyone was here.”
As Rachel hugged her again, a flash of light exploded in Kendall’s eyes. “Wha—what was that?”
With a giggle, Melissa stepped back and waved a camera that hung from a strap around her neck. “Just doing matron-of-honor duty. I promised Rachel to take a gazillion photos of everything: her finding her dress, us trying on our dresses, the bridal showers—everything!”
&
nbsp; “Great. Now I just need to find my way to the chair.” Kendall felt for the padded chair arms and sat back.
The attendant, who looked as if she’d barely edged over into her twenties, directed Rachel into a dressing room while everyone claimed chairs and got ready for the fashion show.
Melissa stood in front of the group, holding a stack of bright pink index cards. “Before we see the potential dresses, we need our cards.”
Our what?
“I’ve numbered each card one through five. One is ‘No way’ and five is ‘It’s absolutely Rachel.’ ” As she talked, Melissa handed Sonia and Kendall their packs of cards. When she tried to give a set to Rachel’s mom, the woman waved her away.
“I’ll know the dress when I see it. I don’t need any silly pink cards.”
“Are you sure?” Melissa hesitated.
“Just sit down so we can get started.”
Kendall patted the seat next to her. “Come on, Melissa. The attendant’s peeked out three times already. The rest of us will use the cards.”
Rachel walked out of the dressing room, looking from one friend to the next, and then finally to her mother. Her fingers touched the delicate lace lining the V-neckline, then fluttered across the bodice. The same lace formed three-quarter-length sleeves that fit snug against Rachel’s toned arms. Her friend’s Pilates workouts paid off. The dress was full—tiers of lace that reflected an old-fashioned beauty perfect for Rachel.
Kendall didn’t hesitate. She raised the “It’s absolutely Rachel” card, not surprised when Sonia and Melissa followed. Rachel’s mom requested that her daughter turn and then said, “Well, we’ll see. It’s the first dress, after all.”
For the next hour, it seemed as if Rachel was determined to try on every dress style—if not every dress—in the shop. Princess gowns. Fitted gowns. Mermaid dresses. Lace dresses. Gowns that seemed more appropriate for the bedroom. One gown that required a hoop and harkened back to Gone with the Wind.
Despite all the silliness of the numbered cards, despite the niggling disappointment of not being the maid of honor—and really she didn’t have the time or the creativity to do it properly anyway—Kendall enjoyed seeing her friend flushed with excitement as she tried on wedding dresses. Even when the dress was less than perfect, Rachel’s vivid blue eyes glowed whenever she gazed at herself in the long row of mirrors, turning this way and that, examining the what-ifs.
As Rachel changed into yet another dress, Kendall watched an attendant hand a twenty-something young woman in a wedding dress a small brass bell. The bride-to-be listened to the saleswoman whisper something, closed her eyes for a few seconds, and then rang the bell as a triumphant smile lit her face.
“Another bride has found her gown!” The saleswoman hugged the girl as her friends surrounded her in a group hug.
Even with the gown held closed with oversized white clips, Kendall could see why the girl selected it. It was a wisp of a white sheath cut on the bias. Simple, yet elegant. Kendall forced herself to refocus on Rachel. She was here to help her friend find a gown—not to daydream.
One by one, the gowns were returned to their hangers, until only one design remained—the very first one Rachel tried on. Kendall watched Rachel slip into the lace gown a second time. The style accentuated her slender neck, the ivory tones warming her skin and setting off the highlights in her brown hair as she held it up in a casual bun on top of her head. Tony’s diamond glinted in the salon lights as she turned first one way, then the other.
Staring at her reflection in the mirror, Rachel bounced on her toes. “This is it.”
Kendall had to agree. And so did Melissa and Sonia.
“I don’t like it.” Rachel’s mother, who had sat silent for the evening, spoke up.
“What, Momma?” Rachel looked over her shoulder, still facing the mirror.
“I don’t like it.”
Kendall watched Rachel smooth the skirt of the dress, her eyes moving from her mother’s face, back to her own reflection.
Her friend’s response was a whisper. “This is the dress I’ve always imagined wearing on my wedding day.”
“That style makes you look old. Frumpy.” Her mother shook her head. Sniffed. “Do you want to look old on your wedding day?”
Kendall managed to hold back a gasp, crumpling the number five in her lap. Had Rachel’s mother really said that?
“Of course not. But I think this dress is perfect. Tony will love it.”
“Hmmph. I’ve known you a lot longer than Tony.” Rachel’s mother wrinkled her nose. “I think I know what looks best on you. And I said I’d pay for your dress—but not that one.”
Kendall waited. Rachel was a physician. She could afford to buy her own wedding gown. She needed to say she wanted the dress and be done with it.
“All right, Momma. If you don’t like it, we’ll keep looking.” As she walked toward the dressing room, Rachel motioned for the attendant hovering off to the side. “We’ve got lots of time to find a dress.”
What had just happened? Why didn’t Rachel buy the dress she wanted?
While Rachel changed back into her regular clothes, Melissa gathered up the pink index cards and tossed them into a wastebasket. Rachel’s mother bundled herself into her brown tweed coat and went to stand by the door.
“Well, I guess that’s it.” Kendall turned to Sonia and Melissa. “Although I don’t know why she doesn’t buy the dress herself.”
“Rachel’s waited a long time for this day.” Sonia wrapped a teal scarf around her neck. “She wants everything to be perfect.”
“I don’t know of anyone who’s had a perfect wedding.”
Melissa put the lens cover on her camera. “Well, she’s entitled to try.”
When Kendall suggested dinner, the other women all had reasons they couldn’t make it. Rachel had to get her mom home and then wanted to call Tony. And Melissa and Sonia both had families waiting.
Kendall watched them go before climbing into her CJ5. Driving home, the dream and reality of having it all swirled around in her head like the snowflakes dancing in front of the car headlights. No form, no pattern, and by tomorrow, they’d all be an icy mess, sure to create a risk of slipping and falling.
Was there any way to have it all—and be happy?
Mina always said there was. She promised her that every time she read a fairy tale, finishing with “and they lived happily ever after.” Mina lived it out, married for more than sixty years to her husband, the man she called her “prince.” And bequeathing the ring to her—breaking the family tradition that the ring would be given to whichever granddaughter got married first—seemed like her grandmother’s way of saying I believe in you. I believe in your dreams. Don’t give up.
Her friends had found happiness—or some form of it. “All” looked like less of some things and more of others. Letting go of one thing to embrace another. Melissa seemed happy as a full-time, stay-at-home mom, occasionally backfilling for a day or two in her former dermatology practice when a colleague took vacation. As anesthesiologists, Sonia and her husband both juggled their schedules for the same group at Penrose Main Hospital.
Was Kendall going to ever have it all? Or was her future going to be more of the same—work and friends, and learning to accept that it was enough?
Once home, Kendall dropped her coat and satchel onto the couch, giving Sully an absentminded greeting and promising to take him outside soon. First things first. She crouched in front of the bookshelves lining her bedroom wall, her fingers grazing the books she salvaged from Mina’s belongings after her funeral ten years ago. While others discussed who got the china, who got the antique mantel clock, who got the carnival glass collection, Kendall requested Mina’s collection of fairy tales. Kendall could close her eyes and see each book—from an odd assortment of individual stories and collections—in her grandmother’s hands. Hear her grandmother’s voice begin, “Once upon a time there was a man and a woman who had long, but to no avail, wished for a chil
d . . .”
She understood those fictional characters—their longtime wishing for an ever-elusive something. And yet, even in the darkest version of Rapunzel or any other fairy tale, “happily ever after” came. Sometime. And always, always, Mina reminded her that a life grounded in faith had so much more than anything written about in a fairy tale.
“Fairy tales . . . all they have is the made-up magic of fairy godmothers and elves and, yes, evil sorceresses. But you, Kendall, you have faith in a real, powerful God. And nothing can stop the happily ever after he has planned for you.”
Sometimes, though, she felt like Rapunzel, locked away in a tower of unfulfilled dreams. Waiting. Still waiting.
CHAPTER FIVE
“Aw, come on!” Griffin slammed his fist on the fender of his Jeep. A sharp pain radiated up his wrist. “That was stupid. Last thing I need is to start making weekly trips to the ER.”
What a way to start the week. Stranded on the side of I-25 during the tail end of rush hour. Traffic rushed by, car lights reaching through the dusk as commuters focused on getting home—not stopping to offer him assistance. Griffin couldn’t blame them. If his Jeep was working, he would be all about where he was going, too.
But right now, he was going nowhere. It’s not as if he carried a spare fuel pump in the back of his CJ7. From the way the Jeep sputtered and jerked to a stop, Griffin figured that was the problem. Repeated calls to his buddy Doug went to voice mail, which meant Doug wasn’t available to come tow the Jeep back to his house.
So, he was walking. But first he needed to call Ian and let him know to sit tight with his friends until Griffin got to Jeff’s house. Exactly how he was going to get to his little brother was a mystery. Jeff lived a couple of miles away. He needed to think. But first, he needed to start walking.
Griffin wiped his hands together to dust off the grime from sniffing around the engine, keeping an eye on the cars and trucks speeding by him on I-25 as he walked to the driver’s side of his Jeep. In the beams of the headlights, he could just catch a glimpse of a few snowflakes floating to the ground.