Chad paused. “Yeah. Why?”
“It’s a bit of a drive.” Jared patted Chad on the shoulder, encouraging him along. Poor Chad seemed totally out of his element. Even though the men weren’t that close, I had full confidence in my husband-to-be to make Chad feel at ease. That responsibility would serve as double duty to soothe Jared’s nerves.
“Wait ’til you see this dress!” Beth squealed, pulling me inside. She hooked the bag onto a wooden lip above the closet and then rubbed her sore shoulder. “It was a long, muddy walk.”
“It is.” I nodded. “Would you like me to get some ice for your shoulder?”
Beth’s eyes lit up again. She pulled down the zipper of the garment bag, turning to me.
I blinked in disbelief. “That’s the . . . um . . . .”
Beth’s eyes were wild with excitement. “The dress from the magazine that you picked out two years ago? Yes!”
“But . . . how is it here? How did he . . .?”
Beth couldn’t wait for me to spit out the words. “I have been hanging on to this thing forever! Can you believe it? Lillian brought it to the apartment. She said you had picked it out, and Jared bought it, and they made me bottle this up for two years! It was awful! Why do you think I hounded you about a wedding date all those times?”
“But . . . why?”
Beth nodded. “I know, right? That’s what I said. His mom said he was excited; he wanted to surprise you, blah, blah, blah. I personally think he just wanted to torture me because it’s been hell.”
I couldn’t stop staring at the flowing, silky whiteness in front of me. I remembered sitting on our couch in the loft while I healed, thumbing through magazines with Lillian and pausing on a picture, unable to turn the page. It was just days after I was discharged from the hospital, the day Claire left to eliminate all the humans that threatened us. A dress identical to the one I showed a partisan interest in almost two years earlier dangled from a hanger just feet from me.
“Beth?” I said, still staring at the dress.
“Yes?”
“You’re going to have to take it down a few notches. I’m feeling a little overwhelmed.”
Beth’s head bobbed quickly, and then she took a seat in the corner. After a deep breath, she began again. “It’s beautiful.”
I almost asked Beth if she knew why Lillian didn’t keep the dress at her house, but it was a foolish question. Beth was safe. No one would blow up her apartment or bust through her windows in the middle of the night—and it would give Jared an extra ally in vying for a wedding date.
“He’s brilliant,” I said in awe.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Beth gripped her knees and bit her lip, struggling with every passing second. “Are you still overwhelmed?”
“I’m feeling better.”
She leaned forward in her seat, quickly losing the fight to remain composed. “I brought two bags overflowing with makeup, hairspray, and curling irons. I think I have every size known to man. I can make big barrel curls or little spiral curls. If you don’t want curls, I brought a flat iron . . . .”
“Beth?”
“Sorry.”
“You take a Valium. I’ll take a shower . . . wait. Is it ridiculous that I don’t know what time my wedding starts?”
“One o’clock. We have plenty of time.”
I nodded, grabbing my robe and a towel. I couldn’t imagine how difficult the wait must have been for her. It was endearing and disturbing at the same time.
Under the warm stream of the casita’s humble shower, it wasn’t difficult to let go of any anxiety. Birds sang to each other from the branches of the palm trees, and the sounds of the ocean gave away its close proximity. Feeling stressed in paradise was wonderfully impossible.
“Did you want an up-do? I brought bobby pins just in case!” Beth called.
“Not listening!” I said, massaging shampoo into my hair. I wondered if she was curious about Jared’s fading bruises or if she’d even noticed. Surely Chad would. If they spent the morning together, eventually he would see them. Jared would explain them away, but if Beth asked me about them and I told a different story, it would complicate things. It was easy to convince her that I needed a bodyguard—she’d witnessed my run-in with Mr. Dawson, after all. Unless they were due to training, Jared’s bruises were a telltale sign that I had been in danger. Two years of experience told me that Beth was too preoccupied with wedding details, so I put that worry to the back of the line.
Thinking of Jared’s bruises made the rest of his face form in my mind, and suddenly I couldn’t get out of the shower fast enough. It made me feel anxious to wait so long before I was allowed to see him again.
I rushed into the casita in my towel, my hair dripping wet, and slipped on the sleeves of my robe.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m just going for a walk,” I said, slipping on a pair of sandals.
“Oh, no, you’re not. We have a day’s worth of primping to do in just a few hours! Get your backside in this chair, young lady!” Beth said.
“I’ll just be a minute,” I said, waving her away. I swung open the door of the casita to find Bex standing in my way.
“Morning.” He smiled. “Going somewhere?”
“Just for a walk.” I shrugged.
“Don’t you have some girly things to do? You’re getting married in a few hours.”
I frowned. “Are you here to keep me captive?”
Bex mirrored my expression. “No, paranoid schizo, your guardian-slash-almost husband is across the island, and you and your unborn baby are two of Hell’s most wanted. I’m here to keep you safe. If you wanna leave, leave. I have to walk with you, though.”
“Oh,” I said, feeling silly. “Okay, then. I want to leave.”
Beth grabbed my wrist, a hair dryer in her other hand. “I jumped on a plane at a moment’s notice. I rode a boat across an unknown body of water—in the pouring rain. There is mud caked under my newly painted toenails, and I’m pretty sure a bird crapped in my hair on the walk here. I’ve endured all this to come here and help you get ready for a wedding that I’ve kept a secret for two years. You can give me a few hours!”
“Okay! You’re right. I’m sorry,” I said. I followed Beth back into the casita, sitting in the chair she’d placed in front of a makeshift salon counter.
“Whoa,” Bex said, sitting on the bed. “Girls are crazy.”
The counter was covered in wires, which led to various hot irons, makeup, brushes, curlers, combs, and hair products. The black wires were hooked into an orange extension cord, which led outside to the solar-powered generator Jared had rigged outside. The mess of wires was an eyesore, but at least we had power without the annoying drone of a gas-powered generator. Beth brought several lamps to make up for the limited natural light filtering through the windows and a manicure and pedicure kit. A large camera also sat among the clutter beside two packages of fresh memory cards for her camera.
“Thank you, Beth,” I said. The planning alone had to have been time-consuming.
“That’s what best friends do.”
After hours of combing, scrubbing, powdering, and polishing, I was finally ready to slip on my wedding dress.
“I’ll step outside,” Bex said. “I need some fresh air, anyway.”
“Good idea.” I smiled. “No telling what that much hairspray will do to a young man’s lungs.”
Beth waited for Bex to leave and then sighed. “We have to wait to put on your dress,” she said, fidgeting.
“You’re joking,” I said. I took a step toward my dress, but Beth ran around me, holding her arms up and out, shielding the dress from my hands.
“I’m not! I’m not joking. We’re waiting.”
I frowned. “You’re losing it, Beth,” I said, sitting in the chair in a huff.
“You look beautiful.” She smiled.
“I’m used to being in the dark for the most part, but on my wedding day,
I would like to be in the know.”
“I understand,” Beth said, thick with regret. “It’s just that . . . .”
A small knock at the door immediately changed Beth’s demeanor. “Coming!” she said, relieved.
Cynthia stood in the doorway. As usual, her face was devoid of emotion. “Well?” she called behind her. “Put my things in the adjacent building. Thank you.” Her tone was opposite her words—also her usual.
“Mother,” I said, surprised.
She wore a champagne-colored sheath dress. Even after marching through a tropical rain shower and the mud in six-inch heels, her dress and matching shoes were immaculate. Her hair was pulled back into its usual tight French bun, making her eyes even more severe when she pulled off her sunglasses and huffed.
“I apologize for my lateness, Nina dear. I had several functions to reschedule, since my presence was demanded at such late notice.”
“Sorry,” Beth and I said at the same time.
“Well”—she sighed—“you are my only daughter. We do what we must.” I smiled, and Cynthia took the few steps to offer a cold embrace. The awkward gesture was the most she could offer; knowing that made me appreciate it more than others might have. She quickly let go and offered a polite smile. “You look wonderful, dear.”
“Thank you. I was just about to step into my dress—”
“Oh. Well, then, I’ll just step out,” Cynthia said.
I fidgeted. “Would you mind helping?”
Cynthia hesitated. “Er . . . isn’t that why Beth is here?”
“No.” Beth smiled. “We’ve been waiting for you.”
Cynthia’s eyes scanned my dress and its yards of white silk and clouded with tears. “Oh, my,” she whispered, pulling a tissue from her purse.
I was taken aback. Cynthia rarely cried. In fact, she’d only found two occasions in my lifetime for it, and both had more to do with my father.
“It’s okay, Mother,” I said, hesitating to find an appropriate place to comfort her. I settled on her shoulder, patting awkwardly a few times.
She sniffed once, lifting her chin to ward off the uninvited emotion. “It’s just that silk charmeuse wrinkles so easily.”
I nodded. “I know.”
After one last dab at her eyes with the tissue, she turned. “Beth best assist you, darling. Call for me when you’re dressed.” She closed the door behind her, and I turned to Beth.
“I’m so sorry,” Beth whispered. “I thought . . . I waited for her because I thought she’d like to be involved. I should have known better. Now you both just feel awkward.”
“It was worth a try. One never knows with Cynthia. She might have been insulted if I hadn’t asked, so you did the right thing.”
“Did I?”
I smiled. “You did. Now help me get this thing on, and let’s not let it wrinkle. I don’t want to upset my mother.”
Beth nodded and carefully pulled the dress from its hanger. “Neither do I.”
2. Promises
“She was right,” Beth said, tears in her eyes. “It does wrinkle easy.”
I nodded, staring at my reflection in the full-length mirror Beth had brought for the occasion. The woman staring back at me was soft and mature, draped in the muted sheen of silk and chiffon. Beth wasn’t human after all; only magic could have transformed me into the elegant, graceful creature in the mirror.
Soft, blond curls caressed my shoulders, and just a hint of blush and pink lip gloss reminded me that I had makeup on at all. Beth had spent hours making sure that I appeared timeless and natural.
Beth clapped her hands together and held them tight to her chest, as impressed at her work as I. “Jared is going to crap!”
I laughed. “I knew eventually Oklahoma would break free from the professional East Coast stylist role you’ve played today!”
Beth gathered the tools she used to transform me, rolling wires and putting the various bags of makeup into the different tubs the villagers had carried to the casita. I stood in place, afraid to move. The realization hit that the church was miles away, across a muddy jungle, and I was wearing white.
I blanched. “Oh, God. Cynthia will stroke out if this dress is soiled before the wedding.”
“If she can get here without a speck, I’m sure she can get you to the church mud-free.”
“You’re probably right,” I nodded, trying to relax.
“I wish Kim could be here,” Beth said, shaking her head. “I called her, but she’s out of town.”
“I understand. This was very sudden.” I hated lying to Beth, especially while she was being the poster child for a best friend, but I already knew Kim wouldn’t be at my wedding. She was two hospital rooms down from Ryan, nursing wounds she’d sustained when Isaac had sent her flying across the cathedral of St. Anne’s. It wasn’t right that she had saved my life and, instead of being at her side, I was primping in a tropical paradise.
“She did say to tell you to not worry about her. She said she’s fine and she wants you to enjoy your day. Why would you worry?” Beth said. Her question was a second thought, as if it hadn’t crossed her mind until that moment.
“When do I not worry about her?” I said, fidgeting with my dress.
Beth thought for a moment. “True,” she agreed, carrying on with tidying up the room. “Okay, I’m going to grab your mom, and then I’m going to get ready. If you need anything, I’m just a casita away.”
“Beth?” I called.
“Yes?” she said, spinning around.
“Thank you”—I smiled—“for everything.”
Beth returned my smile. “Of course.”
“And Beth?”
“Yes?” she said. She was clearly impatient about getting to her casita.
“Think I could sit for a while?”
“Oh!” Beth said, rushing to fetch me a chair. “Here. This one has a back on it so you can relax. Thirsty?”
“Not at the moment. You are the best maid of honor, ever.”
“I know.” She beamed. She backed out of my room, shutting the door on her wide and excessively proud smile.
With Beth’s absence, the room became uncomfortably quiet, but I didn’t feel alone. I looked down to my belly. Bean was invisible, nestled under the fabric of the dress I would wear to marry her father. I placed both of my hands above my bump and smiled. Would Bean know he or she was a guest at our wedding? The thought of a tiny body inside me with a fancy dress or tux on made me giggle.
“What’s funny?” Cynthia said as she entered the room. “Certainly not the sight of you. You’re a vision.” I smiled and stood so that she might get a better look. “I’ve arranged for a car. Well, not so much a car as a beat-up truck, but it will get us to the chapel.”
“I wondered how I would get there and keep my dress white.”
Cynthia frowned. “I didn’t say it wouldn’t be difficult. I’ve considered wrapping you in plastic. It will take all of us along with a concentrated effort, but it can be done.”
“Thank you.” I smiled. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
Again, a deluge of emotion caught Cynthia off-guard, and she furiously searched through her purse for a tissue. Before the first tear could pour over her lashes, she dabbed it away. “I’ve never,” she said, annoyed. “I hope this doesn’t continue throughout the day.”
I rested in the chair, and Cynthia sat on the bed, seeming uncomfortable and out of place, yet she remained cordial and poised. She brought up appropriate subjects such as the weather and stayed far away from anything that might induce another onslaught of tears. We shared a few polite laughs, and I silently prayed that Beth would return sooner rather than later.
“Ding dong!” Bex said, opening the door. “The truck is less than a mile away. You ready?”
“Something like that.” I sighed.
Beth popped in behind Bex. Her smile lit up the room. She was stunning in her French blue cocktail dress, and for the first time since I’d met her, she actually looked
like the former beauty queen that she was. Her lips were stained a wine color, and her short auburn hair was wavy and soft instead of sticking out in every direction. “Oh, good!” Beth squealed as the engine grew louder upon the truck’s approach. “It’s like a Bronco! It has a back seat!”
“That’s nice,” I said, minding my mother’s expression as I gathered my skirt.
The trip from my chair to the door was uneventful, but the preparations for me to step outside into the murky jungle were firmly coordinated by my mother. Cynthia barked orders at Bex, Beth, and the driver. Bex lifted me and held me away from his body—at Cynthia’s request—to keep from wrinkling the dress further. Beth and Cynthia held any protruding pieces out and away as Bex made his way to the truck and then helped spread the fabric while he lowered me to the backseat. Cynthia’s tactic worked. I was seated atop a clean blanket, and my dress remained untouched by the jungle.
Bex led us to the chapel on a dirt bike, while Cynthia commandeered the passenger seat. Beth squeezed against the door to my right to give the dress plenty of room.
“You are all being a little ridiculous about this dress. Once I get out of the truck, the wrinkles will fall,” I said.
“It’s possible. What will you do if mud is splattered on it? Have you found a dry cleaner on the island?” Cynthia asked.
“Good point.”
Within half an hour, the truck was bouncing over familiar cobblestone streets. My heart pounded against my chest when the chapel’s steeple appeared above the palm trees, and I could barely restrain myself from bursting from the truck and running inside when the fountain and then the wooden double doors came into view. Jared was inside, and the wait had already been an awful test of my patience.
Beth lightly touched the top of my hand, and only then did I realize I was tapping her knee.
“We’re here,” she said, pulling at the door handle.
Bex stood on the walkway with a wide grin on his face. “You look good.”
“Thanks,” I said, touched by his sentiment.
The Providence Trilogy Bundle: Providence; Requiem; Eden Page 64