by Shenda Paul
"The premises will be ready by Wednesday next week, and the community launch is planned for Saturday. We've organized food stalls, music and entertainment targeting families with kids," she rattles off.
"Like what?" Dad asks.
"Face painting, balloon tying, bounce castles and obstacle courses, basketball courts, and I've managed to get some professional players to be on hand for autograph signings." Matt’s face lights up at that.
"Angelique’s organized for dancers to perform and then stick around to answer questions. That should keep the older girls entertained," Cait continues.
"Well done both of you," Dad says, at which Angelique blushes deeply. I realize, then, having been robbed of fatherly affection twice in her life, just how much Dad’s acknowledgment and praise means to her. 'Thank you," I surreptitiously mouth at him. He smiles. He understands too.
"What about music, Sis?" I ask.
"We're hiring a DJ, but we don't want the music to overtake the rest of the entertainment. It's more to create atmosphere," she says.
"He'll also be providing music for the dancers," Angelique adds. Cait then presents a mock-up of the posters and flyers she plans on distributing in targeted neighborhoods.
"They look great, sweetheart," Mom approves. "When will they be printed?"
"We can get them done on Monday, ready for distribution on Tuesday if everyone’s happy," she says, and we all immediately consent.
"I’ve arranged meetings with the principals of local schools, and we'll also be hosting a morning tea for social workers in the area to advise them of our services and to learn how we can work with them," Mom says.
"You’ve thought of everything, and it all sounds terrific. So, unless anyone has a problem or would like to add anything, I think that's it. Just let Dad, Matt, and me know what you need us to do and when you need it done by." I look around for comments, but no one speaks.
"Let's have dinner," Mom announces. "We can catch up on wedding plans while we eat."
Chapter Twenty-Seven
"I can hardly believe this is the last time I’m here to visit Mom," Angelique remarks as we make our way through La Guardia.
"We'll be back, though, and we can always bring Grace to visit her friends." I squeeze her hand I’m holding.
"Thank you," she responds with a delighted smile.
"She's about to become my mother-in-law, and I already love her," I counter.
"She loves you too."
"I certainly hope so," I say, raising her hand to my lips. "Come on, let’s get you into a cab."
Angelique’s meeting Grace and Sharon at the care facility, and I arranged for a driver to transport them from there to wherever they wish to go. Their first stop, I’ve been told, is to meet with the owner of the bridal shop who agreed to come in especially today. Mandi will meet them there. The original plan had been for Grace to return home after that and for Angelique and I to take her out to dinner, but at my request, Sharon and the driver will drop Grace off at our hotel, instead. She’ll spend time with me while Angelique and Mandi continue shopping. We’ll dine at the hotel, and Sharon and the driver will return for Grace after dinner.
I, in the meantime, having checked us into our suite, am on my way to Tiffany's to pick up Angelique’s wedding ring and gifts. I thought I was well organized until Mom and Cait sent me into a tailspin yesterday by informing me that it’s customary for the groom to present each of the bridal party attendants with a gift. Angelique was, thankfully, very helpful by suggesting cufflinks for the groomsmen and bracelets for Mandi and Samantha. "Just make sure they're silver or white gold," she said, showing me the pair she'd purchased for Samuel, who’ll walk her down the aisle.
I’d hoped to get those at Tiffany’s too, but, having spent ages in the store, I succeeded only with gifts for the bridesmaids. Their cufflinks hadn’t quite been what I visualized. And now, finally, after leaving yet another store empty-handed, I call Cait. "Sis, I haven't been able to find anything I like for Matt and Jon…Tiffany's and some other jewelers close by," I add when she asks.
"I can't spend much more time on it; I need to get back to the hotel to meet Grace," I reply, frustration bubbling over when she offers to search online and call me back.
"Mom and I saw some nice ones at a local jeweler," she then helpfully suggests. "I could go with you if you'd like."
"That would be great, Sis; thanks."
"No problem, but there's something I want in return." I know that sneaky tone well, and I’m already dreading what’s coming next.
"Spit it out," I say, resigned to meet whatever demand she makes.
"I want to know where you're going for your honeymoon."
"Fine!" I huff, pretending it's a real hardship when, in fact, I'd resolved to tell her the next time she asked. I’ve already told Grace who, with my permission, informed Mandi so she could ensure Angelique packs appropriately. They’ve both been sworn to secrecy, just as I’ll do with Cait and Mom because I can hardly leave her out once Cait knows.
"I'll tell you when we go shopping. How about Tuesday around lunchtime?"
"Great," she exclaims gleefully and then promptly hangs up on me.
Back at the hotel, I freshen up before wandering around the suite, making sure it's tidy and that there’s nothing to impede Grace’s wheelchair.
"I've ordered coffee, tea, and sandwiches if you're hungry?" I offer when Sharon leaves, and Grace and I are on our own.
"So, how are you coping with everything?" she asks as I place a plate containing a neatly quartered club sandwich on her lap.
"Really well. I'm so excited about marrying Angelique that nothing's a bother," I admit.
"She feels the same way. I haven't seen her this happy for such a long time, Adam. I can't thank you enough."
"I should be thanking her for loving me, and you, of course, for accepting me into your family. I didn't know what I was missing until I finally acknowledged to myself that I love her."
"It must have been difficult for you … falling in love with Angel, I mean?" Her blue eyes bore into mine as if searching for answers I may not readily give.
"Falling in love with Angelique was as natural as breathing. What proved difficult, was fighting those feelings; and I’m afraid I behaved badly in doing so. I was arrogant and cold with her in the beginning, something I'll always regret," I confess, feeling renewed shame—at the memory and also at having to admit to this gentle-natured woman before me how badly I treated her child.
"I was so consumed by my own hurt and anger that I didn't stop to think about the circumstances that might have driven her …"
"Angelique told me about her behavior, Adam," Grace interrupts me compassionately. "My daughter’s fierce sense of loyalty is both her strength and weakness, and it didn't help matters in this instance. She should never have tried to protect Justin Wade, and his lawyer had no right asking her to. I think it's time both of you let go of regrets. You're starting a new life; it's time to move forward."
"You’re right," I concede. I was truthful about my past having influenced my attitude toward Angelique, but that hadn’t been the only reason for my behavior. If it had been, I would have felt and displayed the same level of animosity toward Natasha, Amy or any other sex worker I’ve encountered in my line of work. The fact is, that Angelique, from the moment I set eyes on her through that two-way mirror, perhaps even when we first met, rattled my senses. My subconscious recognized my response for what it was but, rationally, I fought against it, hell-bent on not letting any feelings, physical or emotional overcome my prejudice or penetrate the wall I’d erected to hold back my past.
Grace and I move on to lighter topics and discuss our morning. She confirms what Angelique told me when I called earlier to check in. She's found and bought her dress. They've also bought Mandi's and set aside one for Samantha—they just need to get her final measurements and then have it altered and sh
ipped to her.
"Finding the dress is such a weight off her mind. It’s possibly the biggest decision a bride has to make," Grace tells me.
"I had quite a successful day too," I add. "I managed to get bracelets for Mandi and Samantha, and I picked up Angelique’s wedding ring and present. Would you like to see them?"
"I'd love to!" Her eyes light up, her expression so much like her daughter’s at that moment that my heart skips a beat.
"These are gorgeous, the perfect accessory for the girls' dresses," she enthuses, lightly touching a bracelet.
"I nearly drove myself insane trying to decide between these and a wider version. The consultant convinced me that these are more elegant; are you sure they’re fine because I can easily exchange them?"
"No, no… she was right."
I show her Angelique’s gift then. "Oh!" Her eyes widen in amazement.
"Will they go with her dress? I’d like her to wear it on the day and..."
"They're perfect," Grace says, stopping my rambling. "I thought you said present; these are presents, Adam."
"Well, they match, so they're, in fact, one gift."
"You spoil her."
"She spoils me too," I reply instantly.
"You really are perfect for each other. I wish Rory were here for this," Grace laments.
"He’s with us in spirit, I’m sure. I actually wanted to talk to you about him today."
"Rory?"
"Yes. Well, how we can honor him in the ceremony."
"That's very thoughtful of you, Adam. I’ve been thinking of him so much these last weeks. You know, Rory left a letter for Angel that he asked me to give her on her wedding day. He left another for when she has her first child," she says, her voice cracking, and I crouch down to give her a comforting hug.
"What did you have in mind?" she asks when she’s composed once more.
"I was wondering whether he liked any particular music, poems or other writing? I thought we could fit something he treasured into the ceremony."
"Rory loved jazz mostly, but his very favorite music was what he said reminded him of Ireland, his parents, and grandparents. And he, like Angel, loved reading. He used to read her Irish stories and poems all the time."
"Do you remember what they were?"
"Well, his favorite spiritual piece of music was Ave Maria, and a poem he used to recite to Angelique a lot became quite popular when it was recorded some years ago."
"What was it called?"
"Irish Blessing—what are you doing?" she asks when I reach for my phone.
"I know Ave Maria, and we should definitely use it, but I want to hear Irish Blessing. Here, I think this is it," I mutter when I find it online. We listen in rapt silence, and Grace sheds a tear, her expression, a mixture of pain and happiness.
"It’s beautiful and very fitting. Does Angelique know how much it meant to Rory?" I ask when the last strain dies down.
"She does; I think she probably knows the words as well as he did. Rory said it was a poem, and it or some version was used down the ages to bless loved ones going on a journey. I have no idea if that’s true, but he believed it."
"I'd love to use it to accompany Angelique down the aisle, but I want to keep it a secret until the rehearsal. What do you think, Grace?"
"I agree that it’s perfect, and I'm sure we can convince Angel to leave the music to us; but why do you want to keep it secret?"
"I want to do something special; I just need to make some inquiries. I'll tell you when you get to Boston if I manage to arrange it."
"I’ll leave it in your capable hands, Adam. I can hardly believe I'll soon be in Boston for good. I can't wait."
"We're all excited to have you home, and Angelique’s beside herself."
"That makes two of us. We have so much to thank you for…. Okay, okay, I won't say it again," she smiles cheekily as I start to protest.
.
.
I wake, alone and feeling as disoriented as I did when crawling into bed at some ungodly hour last night. I miss Angelique more than I thought possible. It started even as I left her half-asleep on Monday morning, cursing the New York traffic that demanded a five-thirty departure to make my flight. I sat on the plane reminding myself that we’d be apart for only two nights; that I'd be consumed by work during the day and that, consequently, time would pass quickly.
Work did prove hectic, and I barely had time to remember that Angelique was in another city. I called her when I had a break, and she texted me with updates, so it was easy to pretend it was just an ordinary day. The minute I entered our home, however, I was struck by how empty it felt. No warm smile or welcoming arms, no delicious smells of cooking. I was reminded, yet again, how empty my life had been before she came into it.
I heated some food that she reminded me in her last text was in the refrigerator and ate in front of the television. After clearing up, I retired to my office and worked until after one a.m. Exhausted, I thought I'd fall asleep instantly, but it evaded me. I tossed and turned in a bed that suddenly seemed much too large for one person.
It's Tuesday, I remind myself. I'm due in court today, and Angelique will be back with Grace tomorrow. There'll be no reason to be separated for so long again, certainly not if I can help it, and in less than three weeks, she'll be my wife.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
There have been occasions in the past weeks when I felt impatient for its passing that time seemed to drag inexorably, and others, when I desperately wanted it to slow down that it sped past like a bullet.
Much has happened in that period. Cait and Matt moved in next door, and Grace is also happily ensconced in her new home. Brett and his army of workers completed the garden a week ago. Angelique and I are ecstatic with the result; the gazebo, especially, enchants her, which is what I’d hoped for. It will stand as a permanent reminder of our commitment to each other, and just ten hours from now, it's where she'll become my wife.
Our preceding days and most evenings were filled with work and wedding arrangements, things to finalize check and double-check. I found it hard to believe that our envisaged, simple wedding could entail so much.
"The number of things doesn’t change, sweetheart, it’s just the scale that's different," Mom said with sympathetic humor.
"I don’t mind, really; I just didn’t expect there'd be so much to do for an event for less than fifty people," I replied, remembering the many discussions Angelique and I had already had and the decisions we were, at that point, yet to make.
The major hurdle we had to overcome was deciding on who would officiate at our ceremony. Angelique was raised Catholic, and Eleanor, I only recently discovered, had me baptized at a local Episcopalian church when I was just a baby. I can't remember attending services with her, but she obviously cared enough about her faith to make sure I was introduced to it. Mom and Dad are also Episcopalians, and as children, Cait and I attended church with them regularly, something I haven't made a practice of as an adult. So, after much discussion, Angelique and I decided to find an inter-denominational minister willing to perform our garden ceremony. Obtaining the necessary marriage license had, thankfully, proven to be a much easier task.
Another surprise, to me, was the many traditions associated with weddings. Things I thought to be foolish superstitions are, in fact, steeped in folklore dating back centuries. Irritated by Cait quoting 'it's tradition' to win yet another argument, I resorted to finding out for myself. I learned some fascinating facts, including that the origin of today's bridal bouquet dates back to the Middle Ages when brides carried a bundle of garlic and dill as protection against the plague. The custom of the bride standing on the groom's left is another; it originates from the time when he needed to keep his sword arm free to defend her.
I accept that some of these customs add to the sense of occasion but others, in my view, are downright stupid—a prime example being th
e apparent necessity for the groom not to see the bride before the wedding.
"Where are you going to sleep the night before?" Cait asked less than a week ago.
"Where I always do," I answered somewhat sarcastically.
"You could stay at Mom and Dad's," she pointedly suggested.
"Why the hell would I want to do that?"
"It's tradition for the groom not to see the bride before the ceremony," she pronounced. I scoffed.
"It's bad luck!" She insisted.
"It's superstition," I laughed.
"It's tradition." She glared then.
"The custom has nothing to do with bad luck and everything to do with stopping the groom from changing his mind should he not like the look of the woman someone else chose for him," I retorted smugly.
"You're staying at Mom and Dad's, or you can book into a hotel," she all but stomped her foot. I wanted to keep arguing, but Mom intervened.
"These traditions might be silly, but they add to making the day special for Angelique," she said, and, of course, I conceded.
Two days ago, and some hours before our scheduled rehearsal, Grace and I unveiled the music for the ceremony to Angelique. "I can't wait to hear what you two have come up with," she said, her voice eager with anticipation, as we sat in Grace’s living room.
"I hope you like what we've done." I held her hand, feeling remarkably nervous.
"Adam wanted to include your dad," Grace explained, and Angelique instantly teared up.
"I've been thinking about him so much. I miss him," she confessed.
"He's with you, sweetie. He said he'd always be, and your daddy didn't ever make idle promises." Grace’s voice cracked with emotion.
"Are you ready?" I asked before starting the music to the specially recorded rendition of Irish Blessing.
"Oh!" Angelique exclaimed, eyes widening as she brought a hand to her mouth. Tears flowed freely then; both pain and joy played across both her and her mother’s faces as we listened.