Two-Penny Wedding

by Karen Toller Whittenburg

  “Okay, but I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  “As opposed to trusting you and my so-called friends? Oh, I believe I know exactly what I’m doing.” She paced toward the table, holding the dress in front of her, sidestepping Cleo on the floor, and kicking the satin skirt out of her way as she went. “I’m going to open that door, walk across the hall to the ladies’ room and find my dress.”

  He put his feet down. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

  “Of course you wouldn’t,” she snapped as she headed for the door, seething at the chicanery of her friends…her trusted friends. “You’d go to the men’s room.”

  “It isn’t a joke, Gen. Sonny is bringing Charlie here to see me.”

  “Give it up, Jake.” As she rounded the end of the table, he pushed to his feet. She wondered irrelevantly how she could have forgotten how tall he was and how broad his shoulders were, and how she loved to run her hands…“I don’t believe you,” she said. “When I open that door, Hillary and Heather will be standing there and Sydney will have a camera to snap my picture in the wedding dress…just so I can never deny having worn it. I grew up with these women, remember. To my shame, I’ve even helped them pull pranks like this on other people. The jig is up.”

  He stepped in front of her, blocking her path. “If you open that door, it very well could be.”

  Looking up, she nearly got lost in the midnight blue of his eyes, but she caught her heart before memory won it over. “How noble of you, Jake, to want to protect me.” She lined the words and her expression in sarcasm. “Thanks, but no thanks. I can take care of myself.” She shoved the wedding gown into his hands and pushed him out of her way. “There. You wear it.”

  Jake looked thoughtfully at the gown. “Sonny wouldn’t hit a guy in a dress, would he?”

  “If he could get his hands on a fish, he might.” She jerked open the door and sashayed into the hall, expecting a camera flash and a burst of laughter at her expense.

  Instead, she heard Pop’s voice first, his deep, blustery vowels impossible to miss even at a distance. Frozen in horror, she watched as her father and her fiance turned the corner at the far end of the hall and stopped dead when they saw her.

  “Gentry?” Sonny looked like he’d run flat into a brick wall.

  “Gentry?” Pop didn’t look quite so surprised.

  “Holy cow.” She popped back into the room and slammed the door, her breath coming in hard, panicked gasps as she leaned against it.

  Jake stopped contemplating the satin and lace in his hands to look at her. “Didn’t the flash go off?”

  “No flash. No camera.” She inhaled sharply to catch her breath. “Sonny…and Pop.”

  Jake held out the dress. “I did warn you.”

  “How was I supposed to know you were telling the truth?” She took the dress in both hands, then shoved it back to him. “Get out of sight…and no matter what, don’t let anyone see you. Got it?”

  “Where should I go?”

  She glanced around the room. No closets. No chairs big enough to hide a man of Jake’s size. Beneath the table was nothing but open space. There was a rap on the door.

  “Gentry?” Sonny asked. “Are you in there?”

  With a tight frown, she jerked her head toward the shadows on the far side of the door, motioning for Jake to stand there. Holding the wedding gown, he moved with a rustle of satin to the indicated hiding place and whispered, “Never let them see you sweat.”

  With that in mind, she cracked the door and peeped out, intensely aware that Jake was watching her every move, his gaze like a spotlight on her bare skin. “Sonny!” she exclaimed. “I am so glad to see you. Would you find out what’s keeping Hillary?”

  “Are you wearing your underwear?” Sonny asked, not easily swayed from first impressions.

  “Well, of course she is. Whose underwear should she be wearing?” Pop elbowed Sonny out of the way and bent to peer through the crack. “What are you doing in there, daughter?”

  “I’m waiting for Hillary to bring my dress.”

  Sonny’s eye appeared above Pop’s. “Why aren’t you wearing your dress?”

  “For a young man, you’re awful concerned about why she’s not wearing all her clothes.” Pop shook his head and shuffled his weight for a better position. “What happened to your dress, Gentry?”

  “I spilled something on it and Hillary is rinsing out the stain. I think she’s in the ladies’ room. Would you mind checking to see how much longer it will be?”

  “We can’t go in the ladies’ room,” Sonny said. “Are you in there by yourself?”

  “What kind of question is that?” she replied.

  “Yeah, what kind of question is that?” Pop elbowed Sonny, then pressed his eye to the opening, trying to see past her. “You are alone in there, aren’t you?”

  “Of course.” She added an extra snap of irritation to the words and ignored a strong impulse to glance at Jake and see if he was still watching her…as if she couldn’t tell by the shiver trailing at random intervals across her shoulders all the way to her toes.

  “You’re sure?” Sonny asked. “You’re sure Daniels isn’t in there with you?”

  “Who?”

  “Daniels.”

  “Jake?” She stalled for time, hoping her friends would come through in the end and bring back her clothes. “Don’t be ridiculous. He wasn’t invited to the party.”

  “Well, that didn’t stop him.” Sonny replied. “He’s here somewhere.”

  “He came to see me,” Pop supplied, straightening with the soft umph of aging. “Are you going to let us in there with you or not?”

  “Not. I’m underdressed for…casual conversation.”

  “Then we better locate Hillary and find your clothes.”

  “Good idea.”

  Jake shifted his weight and the satin dress he held rustled with the movement, sounding like a drumroll in the quiet.

  “What was that?” Sharp-eared Sonny didn’t miss anything.

  “What was what?” She frowned through the crack in the door.

  “That rustling sound.”

  “I shuffled my feet. My nylons make that noise. See?” She slipped out of one pearl gray pump to scuff her stockinged foot across the carpet. It was sticky with dried-on ginger ale and made no sound at all.

  “I don’t hear anything.” Sonny’s original skepticism returned.

  “Exactly my point. Now, will you please…” The satin rustled again, and, behind her back, she cautioned Jake to be still with a fluttery wave. He caught her hand and held it wrapped in the warmth of his, robbing her of whatever sensible thoughts still occupied her brain. “Please,” she said again, totally oblivious to everything except the memory of his touch, the times he’d fed her imagination with nothing more than a stroke of his fingertip, the way his hands had caressed her, the titillating whisper of his tongue on her skin…. She closed her eyes for a second and swallowed the knot of remembrance in her throat.

  “What’s going on in there?” Sonny asked.

  “Nothing,” she whispered, regretting the truth of that…for an instant. Only an instant. “What do you mean what’s going on in here?” Her voice puffed with insult. “I’m waiting, uncomfortably underdressed, I might add, for someone to bring me something to wear.”

  “Here.” Sonny stepped away from the door and began to pull off his suit coat. “Put this on and come out here.”

  Jake squeezed her hand, causing her to glance at him. He shook his head. Right. Like she didn’t know why he didn’t want her to cover up. She widened the crack another inch, then another, staying carefully concealed behind the door while she waited for Sonny to hand over his jacket.

  Jake pinched her lightly on the arm and she thumped his shin with her foot. Pop cleared his throat. Then he cleared it again. Gentry met his eyes with a frown and followed his gaze to the floor behind her, where ivory-colored satin sparkled like the light of an infant star in a newly born night. Squar
e in the center of the “star,” Cleo sat in uncharacteristic calm, the tip of her tongue just visible between her teeth, as if she were about to blow a raspberry. Contrasted against the background of the wedding gown train, the black Lab couldn’t go unnoticed by anyone looking in through the opening in the door…and Sonny would know immediately that wherever Cleo was, he would find Jake there, too.

  “Here.” Sonny thrust the jacket through the opening just as Gentry slammed the door.

  Chapter Six

  The howl on the other side of the door was thick with pain. Gentry gasped and turned, wide-eyed, toward Jake. “I think I killed him,” she whispered.

  “He couldn’t make that much noise if you had.” Reaching for the knob, Jake opened the door to view the scene in the hallway.

  While Sonny clutched his hand and paced a few feet in front of the door, Pop followed him like an overgrown mother hen. “Would you stop moving around and let me have a look at that?” Pop said. “It might be broken.”

  “It might be, at that,” Sonny snapped, his voice rough with injury. “But I don’t know what you think you can do about it.”

  “Well, I could moan and groan for you while you look at it.” Pop’s tone picked up a degree of irritation. He had little sympathy for injuries not involving blood or unconsciousness. “I once broke my wrist in three places doing a stunt and never missed a single day of shooting. Now, hold still and let me look at that hand.”

  Gentry picked up Sonny’s suit coat from the floor, hastily pulled it on over her clothes—or rather her lack thereof—and stepped out into the hall. “I’m so sorry, Sonny. I wasn’t looking and didn’t realize you…Does it hurt much?”

  “Of course it hurts, Gentry.” Pop glanced at her. “Didn’t you ever get your finger smashed in a door?”

  “This is more serious than a smashed finger.” Sonny grimaced as he moved his hand, then tried to look as if it didn’t hurt too badly when he turned to Gentry. “Didn’t you see my hand?” he asked her. “I was passing my coat through the…” His face became a thundercloud as Jake stepped into the lighted hallway. “I ought to punch you in the nose,” he said.

  Jake shrugged. “I’d be careful of that hand if I were you. You don’t want to slam it into anything as hard as my head.”

  “Oh, yes, I do. The satisfaction would be worth the pain. Fortunately for you, I have more sense than to waste a good punch on a man of your ilk.”

  “My ilk and I are vastly relieved.”

  “Stop it.” Gentry stepped between them and laid her hand on Sonny’s uninjured arm. “This is not the way it looks, Sonny. Jake wasn’t in there with me.”

  “I may be in pain, Gentry, but I am not blind.”

  “Well, yes, technically we were in the same room, but we weren’t there by choice. This is all because my three humor-impaired bridesmaids thought it would be funny to force me to put on that old wedding dress that Pop—” she glanced accusingly at her father “—bought and convinced Ben to send to me.”

  “I fail to see how that explains what he—” Sonny scowled at Jake “—was doing in that room with you…especially in your state of undress.”

  “Trust me, Sonny. Sydney and Hillary will explain it all to you, just as soon as I get my hands on them. Right now, though, I’m more concerned that we take care of you.” She pried his injured hand away from his protective hold and turned it gently from side to side. “Do you think it’s broken, Pop?”

  Charlie bent to study Sonny’s swollen hand. “Wouldn’t be surprised. One way or another, he’s going to have to have it looked at by a doctor. There’s bound to be one at this shindig.”

  “I’ll find out.” Jake stepped around Gentry, brushing her arm as he passed, arousing a host of contradictory feelings. He wanted to stay with her, he wanted to stay away from her, but mostly, he wanted her to stop touching Sonny with such tender concern. “Pop,” he said as he moved on, “why don’t you get some ice from the kitchen. For the swelling.”

  “Oh, right.” Pop fell into step behind him. “Good idea.”

  “Gentry,” Jake called over his shoulder, “take him into the ladies’ room, immerse that hand in cold water and keep it there until we get back.”

  “Jake?” Pop asked as they rounded the corner at the end of the hall. “What was really going on in that room between you and my daughter?”

  “Nothing,” he answered with genuine regret. “Nothing at all.”

  “NOT A DOCTOR, NURSE or paramedic on the guest list,” Jake said as he entered the ladies’ room.

  Gentry looked up from the sink where she was holding Sonny’s hand immersed in ice cubes. Relief filtered through her at Jake’s return. Her fiancé wasn’t turning out to be a very compliant patient. “The swelling seems to be stopping, but it’s not going away.”

  “Hasn’t Pop come back with the ice?” Jake asked.

  “He’s gone for a second bucket.” Sonny’s teeth chattered on the words, and one look at his pale face told Jake it was time to get him to a doctor.

  Grabbing a towel from the counter, he held it draped between his hands. “Put your hand in this and let’s go.”

  “Where are we going?” Gentry asked.

  “I’m going to take him to a hospital. My rental is parked right by the side doors.” He wrapped the towel carefully around Sonny’s hand, then grasped his arm to lend support. Sonny didn’t protest, which confirmed Jake’s suspicion that the man was in no shape to make this decision for himself. “Get on his other side, Gentry, in case he needs to lean on you.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with my feet,” Sonny said, but he didn’t shake off either helping hand.

  Gentry frowned across Sonny at Jake. “Shouldn’t we call an ambulance?”

  “The truck will be just as fast and it’s already here. Let’s go.”

  “I’d rather have an ambulance,” Sonny muttered.

  “I’m not real crazy about giving you a ride in my truck, either.” Jake kept moving, propelling Sonny and Gentry through the ladies’-room door and down the hall. “But what can I say? I’m a nice guy, Harris. You just never gave me a chance.”

  “Hey!” Pop’s voice barreled down the hall behind them. “Where are you going?”

  “The hospital,” Gentry called back. “Tell Mr. and Mrs. Harris what happened and that I’ll call them as soon as we’ve seen a doctor, okay?”

  “Can you take care of Cleo?” Jake added as they reached the end of the hall. “I don’t know where she went, but you might check the hors d’oeuvre table.”

  “Okay,” Pop called after them. “But what about this ice? Don’t you think you better stick his hand in here during the trip?”

  “No!” Sonny yelled, showing surprising strength for a man who could have passed for a ghost.

  IN THE EMERGENCY ROOM of St. Joseph’s Hospital, Jake leaned forward in the uncomfortable waitingroom chair, rested his elbows on his knees and loosely clasped his hands. The ring on his little finger felt unfamiliar and he couldn’t seem to keep his other hand away from it. Like a sore spot, it attracted his attention and called for more tactile investigation. As if he didn’t already know the cool, solid shape of it. As if he needed a reminder that it didn’t belong on the finger it now encircled.

  Down a hall of curtained rooms just around the corner, he could hear random voices discussing individual injuries and treatments, and from time to time, someone pushed aside a curtain and scurried away. Medical personnel he recognized by the muted sound of their rubber-soled shoes. Patients walked more slowly, if they walked at all. So far, there had been twice as many whirring noises from wheelchairs as shuffling footsteps, and it seemed like hours since he’d heard the crisp clip, clip of Gentry’s heels.

  His finger touched the ring again, and in disgust, he pushed back in the chair and crossed his arms at his chest. What was he doing in this emergency room with Gentry and her fiancé? For that matter, what was he doing in California at all? He could have rearranged his plans, rescheduled his visit
, gone home as soon as he discovered Ben was away. Arthur, Ben’s butler, had offered to make a reservation for him at a nearby resort, apologizing for the inconvenience. But he’d wanted to see Gentry. Regardless of how Ben’s invitation had been couched, regardless of how easily Jake had allowed himself to be persuaded to accept it, they both had known the underlying objective, and once here, there was no force on earth that could have changed his mind.

  So you’ve seen her, Daniels. Now what?

  The clip, clip sound of her shoes on the tiled floor brought his thoughts to immediate order, and he waited, watching for her like a soldier in a crowd, seeking the only face that mattered. She paused in the doorway, looking for him, and his gaze slid to her shoes before meandering up the incredible length of her legs to the tweed suit coat that covered just enough of her to be provocative. He’d never seen anyone with as much style as Gentry…no matter whose clothes she was wearing.

  “They’re taking him to X ray now,” she said as she dropped into the chair beside him, bringing a warmth to the dreary waiting room, stirring a pleasured response inside him. “Then they’ll decide whether to put him in a cast or not.”

  “Is he feeling any better?”

  She shrugged and slumped down until her head rested on the back of the chair. “Who can tell? He’s the strong, silent type.”

  “Areyou feeling better?”

  “About what? Sonny? He’ll recover. Cast or no cast, he’ll be ready to go home in another hour or so. Can you wait that long or should I call Pop to come get us?”

  “I’m already here,” he said carelessly. “And it isn’t as if I have a hot date waiting for me back at the guest house.”

  “It’s a good thing, too. Cleo might get jealous.”

  He nodded, wanting to regain the easy camaraderie that had always come so naturally for them, not knowing how to begin. With a sigh, Gentry closed her eyes, and he wanted, desperately, to reach over and take her hand with his. But he didn’t. “You look tired.”

  “Too many champagne toasts.”

  “It’ll all be over soon. Only six more days before the wedding.”