Toss the Bride

by Jennifer Manske Fenske

  This is one of the worst wedding stories I’ve heard. “I can’t believe your day—how awful. But why are you at the airport?”

  “Our flight for our honeymoon leaves tonight, and Kevin figured we could just get on the plane and leave this nightmare behind us. He doesn’t care when we get married, but I do! This is supposed to be my wedding day.” The poor bride tries to hold back another round of tears.

  I help the woman over to the sink, where we hang the dress up on a nearby hook. I trip the water sensor and encourage her to splash her face. She does and pats her skin dry with some paper towels.

  “I look like a mess,” she says, glancing at the mirror.

  “No, you’re fine. You’re just upset.”

  “I’m Jessica, by the way. Sorry you had to see that.”

  “My name is Macie, and don’t worry about it. Weddings are stressful on their own, and anyone would crack if their dream day turns out like yours did.”

  Jessica shakes her head. “The worst part about it was, we didn’t have very much money. This was kind of our shot at something nice. We put a deposit on the minister and the historic house, and I bought this dress at a sample sale. We put the rest of our savings toward a condo at Abigail Island for the honeymoon.”

  My ears perk up. “Abigail Island?”

  Jessica pushes her hair off of her forehead. Her brown eyes are red and swollen. “Yes, it’s this little island near Savannah, but I don’t feel like having a beach vacation. I want it to be my honeymoon. Kevin says we can get married down there, and I know our folks will be fine with that, but how am I supposed to plan a wedding in a strange place?”

  My mind starts to whirl. I think I can do this. We would need a few days, of course, a place for the ceremony, food, maybe a nice string quartet. And then there would be flowers, if they wanted flowers. Perhaps a nice daisy bouquet? Jessica has a simple beauty that shouldn’t be overwhelmed.

  “Jessica, I want to help plan your wedding.”

  She looks confused and shoves her hands into the pockets of her capri pants. “But I just told you, it’s over. We’re getting on a plane to Abigail Island.”

  “So am I! I’m meeting my boyfriend in a few minutes—” I pause and take a deep breath. Avery! I can’t believe I have forgotten why I am even standing in an airport bathroom. “Avery, my boyfriend, is waiting for me out there. We’re going to Abigail, too. It’s kind of a surprise trip.”

  “I think our plane is boarding soon. We should get out there,” Jessica says with a glance at her watch. “Kevin is probably wondering where I am.”

  I reach over and give Jessica a hug. “I know it’s weird to meet like this, but I plan weddings for a living. Well, I’m a wedding planner’s assistant, but you get the idea. I’d be happy to work with you once we get to the island. It would be my gift.”

  “Oh, Macie, I couldn’t accept that. I know wedding planners are expensive. It wouldn’t be right to take your help. And you’re on vacation!”

  “It would be an honor to help you get married. I would hate to think of you and Kevin being miserable all week.”

  Tears well up in Jessica’s eyes. “I’m a complete stranger! I can’t believe anyone could be so nice.”

  We collect the dress and walk out to meet our guys. A man in a dark blue T-shirt and khaki pants rushes over and pulls Jessica into his arms. “I was getting ready to head in there myself. You really had me worried, honey.”

  “I made a new friend in the ladies’ room! This is Macie,” Jessica says.

  “Ah, nice to meet you,” Kevin says.

  But I am turning around in a circle, trying to find Avery. Our plane is about to board; a short line of travelers stands expectantly, boarding passes in hand. I don’t see him—could he have gotten stuck in traffic? I don’t want to try his cell and spoil the romantic-getaway mood he’s created. Still, I am concerned. People pass by quickly, moving to gates and connecting flights. The smells of coffee and hot cinnamon rolls are in the air.

  And then, before I can say another word to Jessica and Kevin, I feel Avery’s arms around me, and we are laughing and hugging. This huge, anxious bubble leaves me and everything is all right. We are together, in the airport, and we are going somewhere—perhaps a journey that will last for a long, long time.

  “You made it,” Avery says, oblivious to Kevin and Jessica, who have watched us with small smiles.

  “You did, too,” I laugh. “Avery, I’d like you to meet some new friends.”

  Avery stops kissing the tips of my fingers and looks up. “Avery Leland, nice to meet you.” He shakes both of their hands. “How do you know each other?”

  Jessica and I laugh. “Well, it’s kind of a long story,” Jessica says. “But Kevin and I were supposed to be married today and on to our honeymoon on Abigail Island. But everything went wrong, and then I met Macie. She wants to help us get married on Abigail, Kevin.”

  Kevin’s mouth drops open. “That’s nice and everything, really. But I think we just need to regroup and try again—”

  “Macie’s a professional wedding planner, Kevin.” Jessica shifts her garment bag from one hand to the other.

  I dig around in my bag for my card. “Here, just so it’s official.”

  Kevin takes the card. “Maurice de Trammel? Sounds fancy.”

  “Well, Maurice is a bit of a celebrity, but I’m his ordinary assistant. I told Jessica I would be glad to help you get married down on the island, and it would be my treat.”

  The line starts to move and we join it, digging out boarding passes. Jessica and I promise to exchange numbers on the plane and make further plans.

  Avery holds my hand as we walk down the jet way toward the waiting plane. “You are unbelievable,” he says, shaking his head.

  “What?”

  “Only you would find the one bride in this airport who needs saving. How do you do it?”

  “Oh, Avery, it was so sad. She was crying and I asked if she needed help, of course, I could only see her feet, but I just knew something was wrong. Her wedding location burned down and the minister stood them up, and well, no one should have memories of their wedding day like that.”

  Avery laughs and puts his arm around my shoulder. “Okay, I accept that my girl is an emergency wedding planner. Anyone else around here need saving?”

  I snuggle closer to him as we wait to walk on the plane. “I can think of one person—he needs a loving and fun travel companion. I might decide to take him up on an offer to fly to the coast.”

  “I’m shocked you showed up,” Avery says with a straight face.

  “How could I say no when presented with such an appealing offer?”

  Once we get on the plane, there is some initial awkwardness. We have never flown together before, so we kind of dance around the bag stowing and the seat belt buckling, bumping heads and fumbling with who wants to sit where. I end up in the window seat.

  During the forty-five-minute flight to the coast, I feel a shyness I have never known around Avery. It’s as if there is a large, unfinished event that has to take place. He teases me a few times, asking if there is anything I want to do once we get to Abigail, anything at all? I just punch him in the arm and look out of the plane window. We are approaching the island.

  “Careful,” Avery says. “I think punching a passenger is a federal offense.”

  “So is torturing your girlfriend,” I retort.

  Avery leans over and kisses me gently. “Thanks for coming.”

  My stomach flip-flops at eight thousand feet. “Thanks for inviting me. The presents you left were interesting.”

  “Well, I had to lure you down here somehow. My evil plan worked.” Avery strokes an imaginary goatee and tries to look menacing.

  I grab his hand and lean back in the seat. “Well, you’ve got me now.”

  * * *

  Our condo is just steps from the beach, over a sand dune or two. Since we arrived at night, I couldn’t see the view, but in the morning, I am amazed at the wav
es, the sun, and the strip of undeveloped beach right outside our window. I sit up, blinking and listening to the ocean through the open balcony door.

  “There you are, sleepy head,” Avery says, poking his head around the bedroom door. “Ready to rise and shine?”

  “I can’t believe I’m here. I would be knee-deep in bride stuff by now back home.” I rub my eyes and yawn.

  “That’s why we needed to get away from Weddingland. You work so hard. But even my best-laid plans didn’t matter because you found a bride in the airport bathroom.”

  “That’s an overstatement,” I say. “Sort of. And while we’re down here, I won’t take any calls from old brides. Now Jessica, that’s a different story. Hers is just a little wedding.”

  Rolling his eyes, Avery motions to me. “Come on and get breakfast. I have orange juice, too.”

  I scramble out of bed, my stomach doing those flip-flops again. I know that sometime soon there is the possibility I will be asked the most important question of my life. It does not matter how much you have waited for it to happen, when it does, a person can still feel unprepared. I have test-taking hands. They are sweaty and altogether unfeminine. Asking for my hand would be like embracing a bowl of wet noodles.

  We eat breakfast on the balcony. We watch kids play in the surf, the early-morning sun lighting up the sea oats on the sand dunes. They rustle in the constant breeze. I know I will love their rattle-rattle sound forever, just like I will always love Abigail Island.

  “I adore this,” I say, leaning back in my canvas chair.

  “Let’s go for a walk,” Avery says. His face looks anxious, and my stomach takes a dip.

  I slip out of cotton pajama pants into shorts and quickly choose a yellow T-shirt. Is yellow romantic? Does it say “love me forever”? I wonder how far we will walk before—or if—he pops the question. I hope it will not be in front of anyone else. I want a little privacy. Our options run through my head. The sand dunes are nice. So is the space a little to the left of the condo building. But farther down the beach, well, that is too crowded. I leave my shoes in the bedroom and walk out into the living room.

  Avery waits by the couch. As I cross the room, I notice he looks a little funny. I guess I do, too. If this is the day, we are getting ready to take a huge step.

  “Macie,” Avery says, his voice a little stringy, “Before we leave this condo, I want it to be as an engaged couple. I want to walk outside knowing we will spend the rest of our lives together.”

  All thoughts leave my head. The beach, sandals, walking—it all floats away in an instant. I reach for his hands. They shake.

  “Macie, from the first minute I saw you and slyly wormed my way into helping you move into your first Atlanta apartment, I have been captive to your charm, your independence, and your good humor. You are lovely, funny, and so loyal. I am a better person because of loving you. I taste candy bars for a living because I want you to be proud of me. I can only think of growing older with you,” Avery says, his eyes wet.

  I reach up to dab an escaped tear at the corner of his eye. “Oh, Avery, honey.”

  And then he is sinking down onto the condo floor and pulling out a ring from his pants pocket. “Will you be my wife?” he asks, looking up at me. I do not like being so far away from him, so I sit on the floor, too, laughing and kissing him.

  “Yes, yes, yes!” is my answer. I say it again, just to be sure. “Yes! I will marry you!”

  * * *

  The end of a lopsided pier is not my idea of the best place for a wedding, but it was available on short notice, as was the minister, a man who goes by the professional name of the Reverend Love. He is waiting for us at the end of the pier, floral-print surfer shorts and a week’s beard included. I get that familiar rat-tat-tat in my chest that usually signals an hour to show time. An additional tightness reminds me I am also worried because I have no idea where Avery is, no idea at all.

  The beach crowd thins as children splash out of the surf reluctantly and couples stroll off the sand toward waiting villas and dinner reservations. It is probably about 7:00 P.M. By the time the string quartet I’ve hired at the last minute plays the final song, the burnt orange sun will be slowly melting into the horizon, coloring the waves a shadowy red and yellow. It will be perfect.

  As if on cue, a car pulls into the public parking lot and parks in the first space closest to the pier. Immediately, deep, thumping bass notes and the whine of an electric guitar float out of the car. Two teenage boys jump out and open up the doors to allow the music a little more freedom. Mission accomplished, they each take a side of the hood and lean back, arms folded in almost the exact same pose.

  I groan inwardly. This would have never happened on a private beach, the kind with which I am used to working. Although I usually ridicule those beaches for their snotty barred gates and gangsterlike security personnel, I was starting to see certain advantages to the finer things, namely a well-secured entrance and a guard named Slake. Maybe when Avery shows up, I could have him chat with the loud music boys. Or maybe they would leave on their own before the ceremony.

  From another end of the parking lot, a group walks slowly toward the pier. Right on time, it is the string quartet with each member toting an instrument case across the sandy lot. A wind whips up the dresses of the two women in the quartet. I glance up to see a cloud tumble overhead in the sky. I silently will any raindrops far away from the beach. No rain can fall on this event. It has to be perfect.

  There will be few witnesses at the wedding ceremony, but I still do a practiced check over the weathered boards of the pier, looking for trash and anything out of order. I greet the Reverend Love and assure him that yes, he will be paid once the groom arrives.

  I wonder if Avery will ever get here. He is bringing the flowers and a garland of sea grasses to string along the railing at the pier’s end. Without the flora and fauna, I am afraid the ceremony will be little more than a few words rushed into the sinking of the sun. Bending down to pick up a spent gum wrapper, I see the new flash of the diamond on my left hand. My impatience washes away in an instant. The details do not matter, only that one bride and one groom show up and make vows they mean to keep for a lifetime.

  Avery arrives a few minutes later and he kisses me gently, his arms full of two large boxes from the only florist on the island. He mentions that I still have a dazed look on my face. I know it is funny, but I haven’t stopped smiling since he put the ring on my finger.

  And it was that easy, I reflect as Avery and I string garland on the pier. We have now been engaged for four full days. I love it. I love thinking about living with Avery as husband and wife. I love looking at my ring and letting the light catch the four points of the princess-cut stone. I love the two dark blue sapphires on either side of the diamond. It is corny, but I love being in love.

  When we finish setting up the pier and arranging the musicians, I look at Avery and take a deep breath. The loud car in the parking lot pulled away a few minutes ago. Everything is in place. “Are you ready?”

  He reaches for his cell phone. “Ready.”

  Within a few minutes, Jessica and Kevin walk toward the pier holding hands. She wears a flowing, white, layered chiffon dress and no shoes. A wispy veil falls to the middle of her back. Kevin looks over at her with almost every step and nervously adjusts the collar of his white dress shirt. He looks scared, but confident at the same time. Their intertwined hands rock back and forth as they walk. When they approach the end of the pier, they turn away from each other and face Avery and me.

  “Jessica, you are a beautiful bride,” I say and give her a hug. A seagull lands on the pier and regards the garland suspiciously from a tall post.

  “Thanks to you, Macie. I don’t know what we would have done without you,” Jessica said.

  I hand her a pretty bouquet of wildflowers. Avery pins a simple boutonniere to the lapel of the groom’s suit coat. The Reverend Love glances at his watch. It is time to get this couple married.


  “Lucky for you, Jessica and Kevin, my fiancée has a soft spot for weddings and a habit of talking to strangers,” Avery says.

  Jessica laughs and rejoins her hand with Kevin’s. “I hope she never stops. If I hadn’t run into her at the airport, we would be down here without knowing what to do. In four days, Macie called all the right people and now, we’re getting married!”

  “It’s not my dime, but we’re losing the light,” calls the Reverend Love, clapping his hands together.

  I take my place beside Jessica, and Avery stands up for Kevin. I nod to the musicians, who begin a spirited movement from Handel’s “Water Music.” When the last note is played, the reverend says a few words about love and harmony and peace, and just when I think he is about to wax poetic on the environment, he asks if the bride and groom have any special vows.

  Kevin looks to Jessica. “I have something I want to say. It’s not written out or anything.”

  The Reverend Love glances to the sun that is starting its descent to the water. “That’s cool.”

  Kevin turns and faces his bride. Gripping her hands tightly, he says, “Jess, I am standing here because I love you, and everything that happens to you matters to me. I knew how upset you were when our original wedding plans didn’t work out, but I just figured we would get married later. It was only after our plane flight down here that I saw how much you wanted to be married. And that’s what I want to say to you. For the rest of our lives, I want to always look through your eyes and see what matters to you, what you care about.”

  Jessica starts crying, but her eyes do not stop looking at Kevin. A soft, sunset light falls across our little party as we listen. Even the reverend looks interested.

  “I stand here now, asking you to share my life. I don’t have much, but I promise to honor, love, and cherish you all the days of my life.” Kevin pauses, unable to speak another word.