by P. G. Forte
Then he stopped dead in his tracks, startled by the sight of the tears swimming in his cousin’s eyes.
“What?” she demanded impatiently, blinking them back. “Are you going or not?”
He nodded, and then grabbed her in a quick hug. “Thanks for everything, cuz,” he whispered. He knew people cried at weddings – although he’d never understood the custom himself – but Lucy? What was the world coming to?
Kate looked up at him as he entered the kitchen, and smiled. “Ooh, Daddy! You look so nice!”
“So do you, sweetheart,” he said, smiling back at her. Kate and Mandy were positively buzzing with excitement, he was relieved to note. But he was almost afraid to look at Marsha, wondering if she’d be as close to tears as Lucy had been. She looked composed but weary when he finally glanced her way. He was about to ask if she was okay when she forestalled him with a shake of her head, and a wry smile.
“You better get out there,” she told him, “You’ve already waited long enough for this, haven’t you?”
“Oh, hell, yes!” he answered with heartfelt certainty. Long enough? It felt like he’d been waiting his entire life for this day to arrive.
* * *
The garden looked lovely, Lucy was pleased to notice, as she followed Kate and Mandy through the trellised arches she’d had set up along the processional path. Not as lovely as it would have looked in May, of course, but all in all, not too shabby, if she did say so herself.
The freshly cut grass, the roses and the geraniums which were still in bloom, and the ancient bay laurel trees at the foot of the garden all provided for an intoxicating blend of fragrances. The sun was warm, the air was still and the faint golden glow to the leaves of the Japanese maples that stood at either side of the gazebo’s entrance were in perfect harmony with the pale yellow of Scout’s dress.
She was relieved to see only smiles on the faces of the guests – even her parents. Still, she wasn’t at all sorry that she’d had that little talk with the officiating minister. There would be no asking if anyone knew of a reason why this couple should not be wed.
She figured there had been enough of that already.
But as they entered the gazebo, and she caught sight of Nick’s face, she had to wonder if she’d had any real cause for worry. Surely no one could observe the look that passed between her cousin and Scout and still doubt they were in love. She was only sorry they’d had to waste so much time apart.
Twenty years! Longer even than she and Dan had known one another. What would it be like, she couldn’t help but wonder, if they had been separated for all that time? The thought was like taking a hammer blow to her lungs, and her gaze flew to her husband’s face. She wouldn’t have traded all the fancy weddings in the world for one instant of their marriage. She couldn’t wait to get him alone again, so she could tell him just that.
She started to smile, but the look on his face as he stared back at her was so intensely intimate that she felt her breath stutter to a halt again. She was recalled only by a sharp pinch on her arm.
“Stop it!” Marsha edged closer to whisper in her ear, “Get a room, if you two are gonna carry on like that!”
Lucy was so relieved to see the tiny spark of humor in her friend’s eyes that she almost didn’t mind the warm tide of blood flooding into her cheeks. “You better start being nicer to me,” she whispered right back. “Or there’ll be no dessert for you!”
* * *
Dan had watched as Lucy crossed the lawn in her shimmery, rose-colored dress. Regal as a queen, eyes shifting here and there to check on every detail, making sure that everything was as it should be. And so damn lovely it made his chest hurt. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. But as the ceremony went forward, and her expression gradually shifted from satisfied to wistful to bleak, he couldn’t help but wonder if she was regretting not having had a wedding like this herself.
For the first time in sixteen years, he found himself second-guessing some of the decisions he had made back then. Decisions which had determined the course of both their lives.
He had been desperate. And he had been selfish. And if the same set of circumstances were to arise again tomorrow, he knew he’d probably make the same decisions all over again.
She looked over at him then, the faintest trace of a smile on her lips; but still more of a smile than he could manage as he wondered if she would still be able to smile at him if she knew the whole truth. When she knew the whole truth, he thought bleakly. Because it was suddenly clear to him that he’d been fooling himself all these years. Nothing stayed hidden forever. Sooner or later the truth would come out. And then where would they be?
He was almost relieved when she started, blushed and her eyes slid away from his face as she and Marsha exchanged brief whispers. He tore his own eyes away from her then, putting aside his own worries for the time being, concentrating instead on the wedding that was taking place.
* * *
No more waiting. It was the only thought in Nick’s head, clearer and more compelling than any of the words being spoken. As he gazed into Scout’s eyes, ready to speak the words that would bind her to him legally, he found himself growing more and more impatient with the pace of the proceedings. It was only a formality, after all. In his heart, he’d been bound to her for twenty years. Now, standing there with her hands in his, he didn’t want to wait another second.
Just a few more seconds, Scout repeated to herself, trying to get a grip on the nervousness that had seized her. A lifetime of rejection and loss had not prepared her for having her dreams come true, and she was horribly certain that something would occur – any second, now – to intervene. She stared into Nick’s eyes, her mind gone blank with panic, waiting for disaster to strike. But then he began to speak, reciting the words they’d rehearsed only yesterday, in a voice that was sure and steady and she suddenly found that she could breathe again.
And then it was her turn.
She knew the garden – her garden. No, their garden, now – was filled with all the people they cared about, but she was aware of only Nick. Nick’s eyes. Nick’s smile. Nick’s hands holding hers so tightly. She returned his smile, stumbling a little over her words as she did.
It was as if the past and the present were finally merging, to create a base for her future. A future full of love and happiness and Nick. Deep within her belly she felt their baby move again, and her breath caught as she blinked in surprise. She watched Nick’s smile widen into a knowing grin, and found herself grinning back at him.
As he took her into his arms at last, she knew that she was embracing more than just her new husband, or the new family they were creating together. She was embracing the future.
For the first time in as long as Scout could remember, she actually had a future to embrace.
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* * * *
Chapter Thirty Five
* * * *
Home at last. Dan stood on his porch in the dark and drank in the silence. Thank God that was over, he thought. Nick and Scout were off on their honeymoon, and wonder of wonders, Joe and Rose and both of the kids had opted to spend the night at Scout’s house with Kate and Lillian.
He and Lucy had the whole house to themselves for once. Too bad he still couldn’t seem to shake off the persistent sensation of approaching doom that’d been hanging over him for weeks now.
“Hey,” Lucy came up behind him and slid her arms around his waist. “What’re you doing out here?”
“Thinking,” he answered, rubbing his hands absently up and down her forearms.
“Yeah? You thinking about going out into the garden and getting us a couple of figs, maybe?”
“Nope, sorry. No more figs, Luce. They’re all gone.”
“Gone?” She sounded disappointed. “Are you sure?”
“Yep,” he answered, then recited slowly, “And then the fig has kept its secret long enough... the fig is finished, the year is over.”
“Hmph.” She came around to st
and beside him and peered at him curiously. “That’s not so cheery, is it? So you’re saying we have no fruit at all, then?”
“Oh., I don’t know. I think there’s a pomegranate in the kitchen,” he suggested without much interest.
“A pomegranate, huh?”
“It is Autumn, after all. And I know how you like things in their proper season.”
“A pomegranate. Well, I sure can’t think of anything to do with that! But tell me, what’s the deal here? Are we switching from English lit to Greek mythology now?”
She shook his arm a little when he failed to answer. “Hey, Cavanaugh, are you in a trance tonight or what? C’mon, babe snap out of it!”
He smiled at her. “Sorry, Luce. I’m just tired.”
“So, come to bed then,” she urged quietly.
He sighed. “Yeah, I will. In a minute.”
“Dan... is everything okay?”
“Yeah.” He smiled at her again, to reassure her. “Sure it is, babe. Go ahead, I’ll be right in.”
She shook her head and left him there, staring out at the yard where the waning half-moon shed its pale light on the grass. “The secret is laid bare. And rottenness soon sets in,” Dan recited to himself, shivering as a sudden chill passed across his skin.
He turned away at last and went into the house. As he passed through the kitchen, his eyes fell on the pome-granate. So, she really couldn’t think of anything to do with that, huh? Dan felt himself a small measure of his usual good humor return as he considered the matter.
Well, he could surely imagine one or two good uses for it, and he was always willing to share the benefits of his knowledge. He picked up the fruit and a small knife, and flicked off the light with his elbow. He was smiling to himself, as he headed down the dark hallway that led to their bedroom.
She’d told him years earlier that she didn’t like surprises, but in all the time they’d been together he’d figured out a few things about his wife that she probably didn’t even know about herself. For example, he’d long ago discovered that there were some types of surprises that Lucy didn’t mind at all.
* * *
Marsha stared in dismay at the mousetrap on the kitchen counter. After he’d caught the mouse the other day, Jesse had forgotten to get rid of the other traps he’d set. They’d all forgotten. And now the mouse had blundered back into another one. He hadn’t been so lucky this time.
He probably hadn’t been able to move as fast – what with his injured leg and all, she thought sadly. It wouldn’t be bothering him any more now, poor thing.
But how ironic. Here he’d survived the first trap, only to get killed by the next one.
Karma, she thought bleakly as she set to work throwing all the traps she could find into the garbage. Just because you didn’t believe in something, that didn’t mean it didn’t still have the power to affect you.
Or did it?
Her cat was nowhere to be seen tonight, and Marsha thought it was lucky that she hadn’t managed to get one of her paws caught in a trap as well. Really, these things were way too dangerous to have around.
Just like Sam.
And when she felt the pricking of tears in her eyes, she told herself it was the mouse for whom she cried.
She checked on the other mouse – the one in the boys’ room – before she went to bed. The little creature jumped off the exercise wheel and came and sniffed at the food she dropped into its cage and then sat back and looked up at her. She could almost feel the loneliness radiating from the rodent.
“Sorry, sweetie, I’m afraid he’s gone, now,” she whispered, paying no attention to the little voice that chanted in her head.
I promise. I’m coming back.
It didn’t matter. He was too dangerous to have around. And while she knew she wasn’t the most intelligent of creatures, she was at least a little smarter than that damned mouse had been. She was at least smart enough not to walk into the same trap twice.
Wasn’t she?
She went down the stairs to her room, not terribly anxious for bed, but too tired to put it off any longer. She unclasped the necklace from around her neck and looked at it, spread out across both her palms. She’d found it last night as she was getting ready for bed. She felt a little funny wearing it today, seeing as she’d thrown him out before he’d gotten a chance to actually give it to her. But on the other hand, it seemed a shame to leave it wrapped up in a box for all eternity. And it wasn’t as if she had an address to send it back to, after all.
It was also far and away the most beautiful thing she had ever been given in her life.
Thick twisted ropes of pink and yellow gold held an assortment of stones. Amethysts and garnets, carnelian and chrysolite, fire opals and citrines and pink topaz all combining to form shifting, glistening, vaguely concentric patterns; reminiscent of an abstract butterfly with outspread wings. And all of it centered around a very large, pink, freshwater pearl.
She knew instinctively why he had bought it, and what he’d been thinking. Knew that never in her life had anyone looked at her and seen her in just this way. Maybe that should have made a difference in the way she was feeling right now, but it didn’t.
What’s wrong? A tiny voice in her mind mocked her. Didn’t you get what you wanted? Wasn’t he exactly what you wished for? And she could make no answer.
What she’d wished for was for someone to bring her back to life again, when everything inside her had felt washed out and gray. She’d wanted to feel cherished. To feel desirable. To feel loved.
Sam could do that, the voice insisted. Sam will do that – if you let him.
But it didn’t matter how he made her feel, if it wasn’t real. And she couldn’t take the chance of finding out. Not when he had deceived her so easily, and so often. Not when he’d already made her feel like a fool. Her heart couldn’t take being wrong again. Or maybe it was just her pride that she’d be risking? She laid the necklace carefully in its case, and put it away in the back of her drawer and then took off her dress. It didn’t matter. Her heart, her pride – she couldn’t hazard either one. Nor could she resist taking a look at herself in the mirror – trying to see herself the way he seemed to see her.
She looked at her body for a long time. So what if it was no longer as young or as thin as it had once been? It was still a good body, she decided at last. Good and strong. And, yes, damn it, beautiful. Again, maybe not the most beautiful in the world, but it had given birth and staved off death. It had carried and nursed her children. It had survived chicken pox and stomach flu and PMS. And an entire lifetime of splinters and stubbed toes.
It had given her pleasure. And it had made it possible for her to give pleasure to others as well. And she was grateful to Sam for making her see all of that.
But even that didn’t matter.
Not when her heart remained shredded and torn. Not when her chest felt too tight to breathe. Not when her head ached just remembering the sound of his laughter, or the gleam of candlelight in his eyes, or the touch of his hands. She hurried to get into bed, curling herself into a tight ball of grief, and praying for just one night with no dreams.
I’m coming back, he had told her.
And she had to wonder, had he meant that as a promise, or a curse?
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* * * *
Chapter Thirty Six
* * * *
Marsha passed the next week in a gelid haze that only seemed to thicken as the days grew shorter and the moon continued to wane. She was waiting for a sign, she thought at times. While at other times, she thought it was for the fall of an axe at the back of her neck that she waited.
As the days passed she became less and less concerned with the worried glances cast at her by her children and her friends. At least Alex was smart enough, or wary enough, to refrain from making any mention of her foul mood.
Another week gone. And now the moon had waxed half full. She peered into the mouse’s cage early Sunday morning and discovered a tiny, pin
k curl of flesh. A single baby mouse, half the length of her little finger, had been born during the course of the night. A sign, sure enough. And nothing that required any particular talent to discern.
A new beginning.
Four days more. And now the baby mouse had fur – jet black. And she shuddered every time she stopped to look at it.
Two more days. Saturday, now. Tonight the moon would rise full. The Moon of Resilience, as it was sometimes called. A name she found bitterly ironic. Or the Harvest Moon. Which seemed equally inappropriate, until she recalled the scythes and other cutting tools with which some crops were harvested.
She didn’t want to imagine what this moon might bring her. She was powerless to stop it, and too heartsick to care.
It didn’t matter.
Tonight she would go out to the cabin and celebrate the full moon, although it would be like pouring salt in wounds too fresh to heal.
She didn’t care.
A new beginning. She chanted it like a mantra, as she had every day for a week. She recited it like a prayer. She clung to it, like a promise. But she didn’t really believe in it. How many new beginnings could you expect to get, after all, in one lifetime? How many chances for happiness could you squander?
Seed Time. That was another name for this time of the year. The season when seeds were laid in the earth, to die and lie dormant until spring. Was the heart like a seed? And how many times could it freeze and thaw and freeze again, before it altogether lost its ability to regenerate?
It didn’t matter. It was Autumn now. Spring seemed very far away.
* * *
As Sam steered his bike over the endlessly twisting road that followed the coast, he marveled at the changes he saw in everything around him. It was definitely Autumn now. The air was drier than he’d remembered it; warm and faintly spicy. And the sky was a different shade of blue. Like soft, faded denim with fuzzy, frayed patches of cloud. Leaves of yellow and gold and bright bursts of cherry red glowed on branches above his head and every tiny town he passed through now boasted a pumpkin patch or a costume store. It was hard to believe so much could have changed in only two weeks.