These Boots Weren't Made for Walking

by Melody Carlson

  Mom scoots closer to her, pats her back, and says, “It'll be okay, sweetie.”

  “Congratulations,” says Cammie.

  Callie looks up with watery eyes. “I don't want to have another baby.”

  “You're just worn out,” I tell her. “You've probably worked way too hard on this wedding, and you're chasing the twins all the time. You need a break, Callie.”

  She nods with a chin that's still quivering. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

  “And Im sorry too,” I say to her. “I didn't realize things were hard for you. I mean, I'm usually jealous of you. You seem to have it all, Callie. You're so together.” Its just an act.

  “Well, you're good at it.” Then I look at Mom. “Okay, if it's time for apologies, I guess I owe you one too.”

  She waves her hand at me. “It's okay. I think I had that coming.”

  “But the truth is, I've been jealous of you, Mom.”

  She laughs. “Well, that's just crazy.”

  “But its true. From the moment I came home, I've been jealous. And, to be honest, sort of mad too. I wanted you to be the old you, and I know that's not fair.”

  “I haven't been much of a mom, have I?”

  I shrug. “Maybe it was time for me to grow up.”

  “Well, if confessions are in order,” she says, “I've been jealous of all of you.”

  “What?” says Callie.

  Mom points at her oldest daughter. “Jealous of you for being such a babe.” She shakes her head. “The sad thing is that I used to look like you.”

  “You still do,” says Callie. “Have you looked in the mirror lately?”

  “Okay, maybe an older version of you.” Then she points at Cammie. “And, little one, I've been jealous of you.”

  Cammie looks shocked. “Why?”

  “Because you've been so dedicated to your education. Goodness gracious, my girl, you're about to become a doctor. Not only that, but you're a good Christian who plans to live her life for others.” Mom shakes her head. “I guess I'm as proud as I am jealous.”

  “Thanks.” Cammie grins.

  “And you.” Mom points at me now. “I've been terribly jealous of you lately.”

  “Oh, come on,” I say, thinking this is going too far.

  “It's true. You have managed to hook the most eligible bachelor in town.”

  “I haven't hooked—”

  “Oh yes you have, Cassie. I'm sure you have.”

  “But you told me you weren't interested.”

  “Of course I told you that. But only because he'd already told me that he wasn't interested in me. I was just a friend to him, someone to ward off the loneliness. Then my daughter comes in and steals the show.”

  Okay, this makes me laugh. “You mean I stole the show by doing things like splitting open the seat of my pants at the Halloween party—”

  “What?” demands Callie.

  So I tell them the story. I also tell them about some of my other embarrassing moments. Soon we are all laughing sp hard that we're crying. Better yet, we're all friends again—and family.

  “You know,” says Callie as she wipes her eyes, “Andrew was just saying how the Cantrell women must have really great genes.”

  “Yes, Mom's jeans are Juicy,” I tease.

  “What?” Cammie looks slightly shocked.

  “It's a designer brand,” explains Callie. “Juicy Couture. And she looks great in them, by the way. But I'm talking about genetic genes. Andrew was saying that we must have good genes, and it got me thinking about Nana Merritt.”

  “I can barely remember her,” says Cammie.

  “That's because you were only three when she died,” says Mom.

  “How old was Nana?” I ask.

  “Fifty-five,” says Mom sadly.

  “Fifty-five?” I echo.

  Mom nods. “Yes. And I suppose that has something to do with my attempt to regain my youth. That and being dumped by your father for a younger, trendier version.”

  “Nana died from breast cancer, didn't she?” says Callie suddenly.

  “Yes. And I had a little scare myself about a year ago.”

  “You never told us,” I say.

  “Because it turned out to be benign. But it was my wake-up call. I decided that I was going to take control. And if I only had a year left to live, I was going to have fun doing it.”

  “But you're okay, aren't you, Mom?” Cammie looks really concerned.

  “Yes, I'm fine. And I'm going in for regular checkups.”

  “Good.”

  “Uh, speaking of Dad…,” Callie says slowly.

  “Were we speaking of him?” asks Mom in a blase tone.

  “Well, you sort of mentioned him,” says Callie. She glances at Cammie. “Why don't you handle this?”

  Cammie clears her throat. “I know that you guys are all still furious at Dad. And, of course, I am too. But I've also forgiven him. And even though Callie warned me not to, I've invited him to my wedding.”

  The silence is so thick you would need a chainsaw to cut it. I stare at Mom and can tell that she's not okay with this. But she doesn't say a word.

  “I was really mad at Cammie at first,” says Callie. “Then I realized it's her wedding, and if she wants her dad here, well, what can I say?”

  “Can I explain?” says Cammie, looking directly at Mom now.

  Mom just nods.

  “I called Dad and told him that I was still angry and hurt by what he'd done to you. I told him that I'd really struggled with forgiving him, but that I finally realized I had to forgive him. Then we talked for a long time. And while I don't agree with everything he said, and I don't condone what he did, I sort of understand how it happened. And I could tell that he's sorry.”

  “He's sorry?” Mom looks shocked.

  “Yes. He's sorry and embarrassed, and he knows he's a big jerk.”

  Mom actually smiles now. “He said that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, that's something.”

  “We talked a couple of times before I realized that I wanted him at my wedding,” continues Cammie. “I got to remembering all the good things about Dad. How he used to take us camping and fishing and skling. How he was my soccer coach. Remember how he got Cassie into Little League when girls weren't especially welcome?”

  I nod as I remember this.

  “And despite all that's happened, I just really wanted him to walk me down the aisle,” she finishes. “And I hope that's okay with everyone.”

  Suddenly we're all crying again. Not tears of laughter either. But we hug and wipe our eyes and finally decide that its okay if Dad walks Cammie down the aisle.

  “I suppose that means he's bringing Michelle,” says Mom.

  “I don't know for sure.

  Now Mom gets a funny look on her face and actually starts to giggle. “You poor girls…” She laughs even harder. “Your father is dating a girl who's young enough to be his daughter… and I'm… I'm dating a boy you went to high school with. Oh my word!”

  “Yeah, our parents are pretty embarrassing,” says Callie, laughing right along with her.

  “We'll be the talk of the town,” I say. “People will be saying, what's become of those cradle-robbing Cantrells?”

  “I hope Ross isn't too concerned about keeping up appearances,” gasps Callie between giggles. “If he is, he's marrying into the wrong family.”

  “We're not getting married,” I sternly remind her.

  “Well, just in case.” She winks at me.

  We joke some more about how our family has gone from respectable to scandalous. And finally we're all so worn out that we call it a night and go to bed.

  hristmas comes and goes, and I think my sisters and mom and I are closer than we've been in years. Oh, its not peachy-keen perfect. But all things considered, it's pretty good. Moms wardrobe calms down a bit too. I have to give Callie credit for this, because they went shopping together, and Callie was probably a good, if expensive, influence.

>   As the end of the year draws near, we work together on the last-minute tasks for Cammie's wedding. I have to give Callie credit for this too; she's managed to put together a nice event that hasn't broken the bank.

  “If I ever get married,” I tell her as we're getting dressed for the big day, “I'd love to have you help me with the planning.”

  She zips up my dress. “If you marry Ross Goldberg, you can count on it.”

  “Oh?” I turn and look at her. “But if I should marry someone else?”

  “You could still count on it.” She grins and pats her tummy. “Well, unless I'm giving birth to triplets or something.”

  “Have you seen Dad yet?” I whisper.

  She nods solemnly. “He brought Michelle.”

  Now I'm not a person who normally swears, but this pushes me over the edge. Still, I say it under my breath. “Where are they now?” I hiss.

  “Dads with Clay and the groomsmen. I don't know about Michelle.”

  “Has Mom seen Dad yet?”

  “I don't think so.”

  I take in a deep breath. I have absolutely no desire to see my dad. I cannot imagine how Mom must feel. I so wish he had chosen not to come. But then I look over and see sweet Cammie. Mom's helping her with her veil. For Cammie's sake, I can get over this. For Cammie's sake, we all can.

  “You look so beautiful,” I say as I go over and watch Mom fluffing the veil.

  “The sweetest bride ever,” says Callie as she fusses with one of Cammie's stray blond curls.

  I glance at Mom and can tell she's extremely nervous. I know this has more to do with Dad than the wedding, and I ache for her. “Mom,” I begin slowly, “you look beautiful too. You've got to be the hottest mother of the bride I've ever seen.”

  She laughs and looks self-conscious. “But not too young?”

  “You look perfect,” says Callie as she smoothes Mom's hair.

  “Stunning,” says Cammie.

  Mom stands straighter and smiles. “Then we must be just about the best-looking wedding party ever to grace the aisle of this church.”

  This makes me laugh. “Well, from what I've heard, this church hasn't seen too many weddings. At least not lately.”

  “That's because everyone who goes here is over seventy,” Callie points out.

  “But it's a beautiful church,” says Gammie. “And even though we didn't come here that often as kids, I have good memories of being here.”

  “I always liked it too,” admits Mom. “I've even toyed with the idea of coming back.”

  “You should,” I tell her. “They could use some young folks.”

  She grins. “Go figure.”

  We primp a little more, but we can tell by the music coming from the sanctuary that the time is drawing near. Then someone taps on the door, and it's time for Mom to be escorted to her seat.

  “Chin up,” says Callie.

  “Knock ‘em dead,” I tell her, and she smiles at me knowingly.

  Soon we're all taking our turns slowly walking down the aisle. Cammie insisted on not rehearsing this event. She said she thought wedding rehearsals were silly, but Callie and I think she wanted to spare Mom from any extra time with Dad. Since we're a pretty small wedding party and it's a fairly simple wedding, all goes smoothly. Finally Callie and I are in place and looking back down the aisle. I'm surprised to see Cammie, who looks adorable, being escorted by a man who looks a lot older than the father I remember. His hair is almost totally gray, and while it's rather distinguished looking, it also ages him. He looks tired, sort of worn out and wrinkled, and I wonder if his lifestyle has taken a toll on him. To my surprise, I actually feel sorry for him. It was his choice to have an affair and to leave Mom, but look what it got him. He's alienated from his family. He probably won t get much time with his grandchildren. He was barely invited to this wedding. Then there are holidays and family reunions and all sorts of things that he will probably miss out on. Its actually really sad. Was it worth ity Dad?

  I look at Mom, standing bravely with her eyes locked on Cam-mie as Dad escorts his youngest daughter down the aisle. I think Mom's going to be okay. She's going to survive this. She has her girls to surround her, to laugh with her and cry with her and hold her up if it gets too hard and heavy.

  Cammie looks incredibly sweet and pretty today. I'm so happy for her. And now I focus entirely on Cammie and Clay. I cry as they say their vows, because somehow I know that they mean these words from the bottom of their hearts. I believe they will do everything in their power to keep the promises made today.

  I realize I want that too.

  I notice Ross sitting about midway down on the bride's side. He looks debonair and handsome in his dark suit. He smiles pleas-andy, I think at me, and I realize that our relationship could be taking a turn. Why am I not sure I want that? I look back at Cammie and Clay as they exchange rings and finally kiss.

  Ross drives me to the reception dinner. He is the perfect date. Polite and considerate. A great conversationalist. Well read and well traveled. Interested and interesting. Handsome. And yet… he's not quite right for me. I know this instinctively. Something inside tells me he is not a good fit. A good friend, definitely. But we are not a match made in heaven.

  Callie could never understand this. She thinks he's the perfect catch. Even my mother agrees. But I know he's not the one for me. The only way I can explain this is to remember those silly Valentino boots I bought last fall. They looked so good with their impressive name in their fancy box. Even the tissue paper was divine. And yet those boots were beyond my budget, outside my comfort zone. Not only did the price tag make me feel guilty, but when I wore them, they pinched my toes and caused blisters on my feet. I've only worn them a couple of times since then, and both times I couldn't wait to kick them off and slip into my Uggs. Yes, I suppose I am an Ugg sort of girl.

  Even so, I enjoy my time with Ross. We dance a lot, and although my fancy pumps eventually become so uncomfortable that I have to dance in my bare feet, we still have fun. I suppose I preoccupy myself with Ross to escape having to face my dad. Although I'm working on forgiving him, trying to follow Cam-mie's brave example, I'm still struggling a bit.

  But there is no escape. Dad corners Ross and me at a side table where were taking a break and enjoying some champagne. “Hello, Cassidy,” he says, then nods to Ross. “How are you doing, Ross?”

  Ross reaches out and shakes Dads hand. “Life's good, Craig,” he says. “Can't complain.” I don't know why this little exchange surprises me. Obviously they would ve known each other through business and whatnot when Dad lived here. After all, Black Bear is a small town. And yet it feels weird to me, sort of Twilight Zoneish, as they sit there shooting the breeze like a couple of old buddies.

  “You're looking well, Cassie,” my dad says to me. “I hear you're working at the ski lodge.”

  I nod. “Yeah. Ross is my boss.”

  He chuckles. “Hey, that rhymes.”

  “Where's Michelle?” I ask, perhaps a bit too pointedly.

  “She's visiting with an old friend.”

  “Oh yeah,” I say. “I almost forgot she was from here too.”

  “I think I'll freshen our drinks,” says Ross. I'm sure he's uncomfortable with where this is heading. Actually, I appreciate the privacy. Once again, he's the perfect date.

  My dad takes an empty chair. “I know this is hard for you and everyone,” he says slowly. “But I don't want to lose you girls. I've made some mistakes, some things I'm really sorry about and can't undo, but I hope you'll find it in your heart to forgive me, Cass.”

  This is shocking, quite possibly the last thing I expected. I don't think I can remember my dad ever admitting to a mistake— not to me anyway. It wasn't his style. His humility knocks me off my high horse, and I'm not sure how to react.

  “It's okay, Dad,” I say quickly, without really thinking. I just want to get this over with. To move on. “I'm already working on forgiving you, but it might take me longer than Cammie. She
was always a lot more angelic than I was.”

  Dad grins. “You and me both, Cassie.”

  “Well, I hope can learn from your mistakes too, Dad.”

  He nods with a slight frown. “I hope someone can.”

  We talk a bit more, but its awkward and uncomfortable, and I'm so relieved when Ross returns and jumps in with some small talk. Then my dad excuses himself, and I take a deep breath.

  “You okay?”

  I nod. “Yeah, thanks for helping.”

  “Your dad's not really a bad guy, Cassie. He's made some mistakes, but his heart is good.”

  “I know.” Now I feel like I'm on the verge of tears. “It's just hard, you know.”

  “If it makes you feel any better, I sort of know how he feels.”

  I look at Ross. “What do you mean?”

  “It's not something I like to talk about, and I'm certainly not proud of it, but I did something like that to Gwen. Back before she got sick. It was stupid and selfish, and I still feel guilty about it.”

  I don't know what to say to this. Ross is forty-six years old. It's possible that he wasn't the perfect spouse. And yet I had imagined that he was.

  “Do you think less of me now?”

  I shake my head. “No, I actually respect you even more for telling me.”

  “No one really knows about it. I trust that you'll respect that.”

  “Of course. You can trust me.”

  We dance to a couple more songs, and I try to figure out what his confession means. Is he trying to get closer to me—or push me away? I'm not sure that it matters. I decide I will receive it at face value. I will receive it as the friend I continue to tell him and everyone else that I am.

  The newlyweds slip away before midnight, but the rest of us stick around to see the New Year in. And when midnight strikes, I'm not that surprised that Ross kisses me. This time on the lips. Just because I'm curious, I kiss him back.

  There are no fireworks. Despite the party poppers exploding and bells ringing and horns blowing, all is quiet inside me. I know without a doubt that Ross is not the one.

  “You seem sad,” he says as he drives me home.

  “I guess I'm sort of tired and confused,” I admit.

  “Was I wrong to kiss you?” he asks as he pulls in front of Mom's house.