Waking Amy (Amy #1)

by Julieann Dove

  “Anything for you.” He leaned over and kissed my cheek. I hoped he wasn't burned by the surge of heat that I was now radiating.

  The rest of the conversation seemed to be going well until Mrs. Willis stood to make her announcement. She clinked her glass with a fork to get everyone's attention.

  “I want to thank everyone for coming. I hope you're enjoying your food and wine. I have a few announcements to make. First, as you know, we are breaking ground on the new wing for the hospital. It will be dedicated for cancer research. Your generosity today will be greatly appreciated and will mean it will be sure to have all of the latest equipment it needs.” Everyone applauded.

  She put her hand up to calm the few straggling of clappers. “I have one more announcement. A rather unexpected one. It seems that one of our own prestigious neurologists has taken the plunge and married a woman I have had the privilege to get to know for only a short time. I'd like for Mr. and Mrs. Reilly to stand up for our congratulations on your nuptials and the anticipation of your first child.”

  My stomach opened its trap door, as my entree fell to my knees. What the heck? Spotlighting the lies and fraud? Bringing attention to them and asking for everyone to clap? I was surely going to the pits of purgatory. Did I look sufficiently pregnant and married to Mark? We stood up, both fighting the urge to crawl under the table. Everyone applauded.

  “Now, it seems that they didn't have a chance to have a reception, so I'm throwing them a slightly impromptu one. Amy and Mark, please come to the dance floor and take the honor of your first dance as our bride and groom.” She motioned for us to go to the dance floor.

  Mark looked at me no doubt for some kind of game plan for this curve ball. I hid my guilt underneath a smile and walked out with him. The band played “You Raise Me Up,” as Mark took my hand and pulled me close. His eyes searched mine before I moved my face to look over his shoulder, trying not to make eye contact with the people we were betraying with our lie. I squeezed him tightly and swayed to the song, thinking of the words and how fitting this was to be the song chosen for us.

  Eventually, I couldn't see anyone else in the room as our bodies seemed to become one and we floated across the dance floor. For those four minutes, we were alone. No questions of how to change myself, to be someone desirable if only I did things contrary to what I knew and felt. I was dancing with the man who said he accepted me for all that I was and wasn't.

  The end of the song came and my spirit went cold. I would soon have to stand on my own and feel lost without his touch. The sound of wine glasses clinking stopped Mark from stepping away from me. He looked at me with question marks in his eyes. Luckily, I had seen my share of wedding receptions on television. “It means they want us to kiss.”

  But it was forbidden. Our lips weren't supposed to touch anymore. I couldn't guarantee what might happen if there was a third time. With all the eyes watching and the spoons striking glass, Mark tilted his head and pressed his lips to mine. My eyes closed as I parted my mouth. Mark's warm tongue slid inside. The room swirled around me as my body lost gravity, and I became weightless in his arms. It lasted only seconds in front of the thirty or so strangers, but it took me to another world. I even heard fireworks in my ears. Afterwards, everyone applauded, and we practically sprinted to our table.

  Mrs. Willis stood as the waiters came and took the entree plates from the guests. “In honor of our newlyweds, I managed to have the chef whip up a cake for them.”

  She did her best impression of Vanna White and presented the cake the main waiter brought to our table. “Now don't you all get messy. I don't have any changes of clothes for you.”

  I couldn't have felt more like a fraud if I were wearing feathers and a beak, trying to whistle out a melody. We tried to avoid any more limelight and ate the cake quietly, sharing it with our fellow diners at the table. Everyone else was served the blackberry cobbler with ice cream. I counted the minutes until the make-believe was finished.

  “So you two didn't have a formal reception, or what?” Chloe asked.

  “We didn't want anything big. My parents are both deceased and Mark's parents are divorced. So we just had a small ceremony before I went to take care of my ailing grandmother.” I was getting pretty good at this.

  “Well, I'd be happy to throw you a baby shower, if you'd like.”

  It seemed like little Miss Busybody was a nice person. That, or she was the type that wanted to be in the middle of everything, so she knew firsthand what the deal was and got recognition for it.

  “Thanks. I'm not sure what'll be happening at that time.”

  “When are you due? You don't seem very big. I only gained twenty pounds when I had Spencer.” She said it like starving her unborn child was acceptable.

  “I'm only three months. I've got a ways to go.” I could almost feel the invisible kicks of this imaginary child. I might have to go for psychiatric debriefing after this fake life. My Wednesday Hallmark movie nights seemed like such a bore compared to having baby showers and hobnobbing with the Willises.

  As the other guests began dancing, I leaned over to Mark. “I think we should go. I can't take any more deception. The wedding cake is tossing ten-foot waves inside my stomach.”

  “I agree. I'll go and say good-bye for the both of us. I'll tell Mrs. Willis you're not feeling well.”

  “Thank you. I couldn't bear to lie to her any more than I have.”

  I said my good-byes to my new friends and party planners and slipped out the door and waited in the parking lot for Mark. It was only five thirty, but I didn't want to go home yet. This lie of a life was better than the one waiting for me at the hospital. I watched as Mark walked across the lot. The ease of a grin on his lips.

  “You did it.”

  “Did what, exactly? Lie? Make friends with people I'll never see again, and ruin your reputation if the truth ever comes out? Is that what you're referring to?”

  “You made a good impression with Mrs. Willis. She said she hopes you're feeling well, by the way. She noticed earlier that you looked pale. She's recommending you to her favorite gynecologist at the hospital.”

  “Oh, my Lord. What have I done?”

  He opened the door for me. After avoiding any more lip contact, I sat down and closed my eyes. The world began to press down on my shoulders. My fairytale day was ending. Mark got in the car. “Is everything all right?”

  “I feel like a cheater, that's all. My mother and father are rolling in their graves. Still, I don't want to go home.”

  He started the ignition. “Where do you want to go? You name it, I'll drive you there.”

  “I don't know, just drive. Let's end up somewhere where no one knows us. We'll have no names, no pasts, and no worries about the future.” I laid my head on the backrest and wished I were someone else. Possibly the girl Mrs. Willis thought she met.

  Mark pulled out of the gravel lot and headed in the opposite direction of home. It got dark before I said anything else. The conversation playing in my head was more than enough dialogue. Responsibility sucked. Why was doing the right thing always so difficult? And the easy one forbidden?

  Chapter Eight

  Mark pulled off the road onto a driveway. The lit sign read, “Congratulations, Ted and Libby!” The massive country club at the end of the drive was lit up like candles on a cake. The parking lot was packed with cars. “What are we doing here?”

  “Have you ever crashed a wedding?” Mark asked mischievously.

  “I can't say that I have. Remember, I'm one of the fun-impaired people you've only heard about. Don't tell me that you have.”

  “It was a hobby I had for a little while.”

  “And we're adding this to our already long rap sheet of more lies than we'll be able to keep up with?” I wasn't comfortable with whatever was brewing inside his brain. “Everyone is so blitzed they’ll never even notice we don't belong. It's fun. Come on.” He flashed me a smile that held all the promise of going down in a ball of flames. Who c
ould throw water on that?

  I got out apprehensively and followed him to the bright lights of the imposing complex. Loud music was playing from the area in the back. Mark grabbed my hand and led me through a gap in the shrubbery at the side of the house. We turned the corner and I caught my breath. It was like something I'd seen in magazines about celebrity weddings.

  Strings of tiny white lights stretched across round tables, hanging from a white arbor, shimmering reflections on the glassware. Each table held a single red rose standing tall in a bud vase. A gentle breeze blew through the magical moment, making the white tablecloths sway. Empty glasses littered the tables, along with half-eaten hors d'oeuvres on tiny white plates. Possibly something with crab meat. Some had remnants of beef Wellington on them. Everyone was fabulously dressed in formal wear, busy either talking or dancing. It was the picture I had envisioned for myself and my wedding. It just never happened that way.

  One morning, after spending the night over at Wesley's place, we were lying together in bed, and I asked what he was going to do with his parents' house. We had been out of college for a month and he had already secured a position as a paralegal with his dad's law firm downtown. “Are you going to sell it, or do you plan to live here?”

  We had been dating each another since we had gone back to college after the funeral. After that first enchanting kiss when he ate off half my lip. And only when it seemed Ashley was serious about not returning home. I had taken care of Wesley, and in turn, he had become my personal refuge. A level of comfort had settled on what we had with one another.

  “I'm going to sell it. I can't live here without them. It's too weird. Just passing by their bedroom gives me the willies.” He hadn't been catching the hints about our future together that I had been throwing at him.

  “Are you going to buy a house or rent for a while?” I had sold my parents' home and the closing was scheduled for the next month. After that, I didn't know where I'd go.

  “I guess I might as well buy a house. I'm not going to waste money and rent.” He got up from the bed and went to the bathroom and proceeded to pee with the door open.

  “I'll be homeless next month,” I said, raising my voice over the splashing of urine in the water. Would I have to send him a text, an email, or a tweet to see where he envisioned our future was headed?

  “What are you going to do?” He washed his hands and returned, flopping back on the bed. It didn't seem to bother him to parade around naked in front of me. I found it uncomfortable at times, but daring all the same.

  I edged up on the pillow, tucking it to lend me more support. I was properly clothed, having gotten up in the middle of the night to hunt for something in his drawer to wear. All I could find was an old lacrosse shirt, from high school. Ashley would've died seeing me in it and in his bed. “I'm not sure what I'll do.” I twirled my hair a little to appear non-threatening. “Hey, are we moving in the same direction? Or do you think we're going to still date for a while?” Just commit to me, damn it.

  “I haven't really thought about it.” He fumbled around the bedspread in search of the remote control.

  Ashley hadn't been home in seven months. She couldn't have been the reason for his apprehension. Her phone appearances were only twice a month, and they came with a reason. I had been made executor of our parent's estate. They obviously knew I was more responsible than Ashley. So when she needed money, she had to take the plunge and make the call. I failed to enlighten her about my relationship with Wesley. A part of me felt she might try and sabotage it. Just because she could.

  “I need to think about a place to live, Wesley. Do you want to move in together?” I said it slowly, waiting for any sign to stop before it was completely out of my mouth.

  He gave up on locating the remote. I had hid it while he was in the bathroom, figuring he'd come out and turn on the television. He lay on the bed, his eyes never opening. What was he thinking? Wasn't he happy with me? Wasn't this the next step after dating? I'd prefer marriage. Living in sin was frowned on in my family. And his, for that matter. Mrs. Whitfield was no fan of his dating multiple girls in college, after it ended with Ashley. She, like all the rest of us, figured he'd marry Ashley. But now there was no one left to look down on the roommate situation. Only my conscience.

  “I didn't think you believed in living together.” He opened his eyes and looked at me. I rose up a little more on the bed and pulled the sheet higher to cover my bare legs.

  “I didn't think I'd ever be the type to live with someone either, but people change.” I wanted to secure my place with him. It was time to settle down and Wesley Whitfield was the only guy who made sense.

  “Amy, I don't want you to sacrifice your beliefs.”

  “It's all right. That is, if you want to move in together. Would you want to ever — get married?” I couldn't believe I said it. I closed my eyes and waited for the gust of wind. He had been on the track team in high school. He was capable of running fast, and without clothes to slow him down I might not even see the streak.

  He did his best impression of an opossum. Still, with calibrated, even breaths. He started to speak and choked on his saliva. “Do you want to get married?”

  “If you do. I didn't mean to say that we had to now. Are we moving in that direction? Would you say?” Could I be any slyer sneaking up on that question? Taken it out of my holster and pistol-whipped him with it? Throw me a bone.

  Wesley propped himself up on his elbow. His lip muscles didn't move; his eyes didn't blink. Was he breathing? Had I scared the guy to death? “Amy, you're so pretty.” He stroked my hair as I waited to hear where he was going with the compliment. “You're smart, sexy, you can cook, and you have a good head on your shoulders. I would be honored to marry you. Would you do me the honor of being my wife?”

  My heart melted, right there in the tangled sheets, where premarital sex had been performed. It was so unexpected. Sort of. I may have held out the cue cards, but I didn't know the night before that my morning would end up like that. I bent over and kissed him. It was a nice, wet, prenuptial kind of kiss. Mrs. Amy Whitfield. I loved it.

  I spent the next few hours imagining what it would be like to be his wife. My mother would have been so happy. She and Dad were so fond of Wesley. She always remarked what a good husband and father he'd be one day. And now he was officially mine. We would attend all the parties our families did as we were growing up. I could return to the life I missed so much.

  I began playing out scenes for the wedding I had been planning since grade school. A big church ceremony with a fancy reception afterwards. I wanted it at night, so there would be candles and moonlight. The crystals on my dress would reflect the lights to radiate around me. I would be a princess. I'd even invite my sister, Ashley, although I imagined she wouldn't be able to make it with her busy California schedule.

  Wesley came in the kitchen for a drink and interrupted my daydreaming. I was seated at the table scrolling through wedding images on my computer. I saw he had put on some boxer shorts. “So I guess I'll have the house listed this week. We can look at new houses one evening. My schedule is booked tight every day until about four o'clock.”

  “All right.” I beamed with my new identity as bride-to-be, Mrs. Amy Whitfield.

  “Maybe we could score one of those cruises, where they marry you aboard the ship and then tour you through the Caribbean. Take me to Jamaica, Mon.” He said it, using the dialect of the foreign land. “The food is limitless. Ernie, the guy in my pre-law class, was telling me about it. He said they even served food at midnight. And I'm sure the alcohol is running out of fountains.” He described the train-wreck image while chugging soda out of a liter bottle.

  I hurt my neck swinging it around to see if he had lost his mind. “Wesley, I was hoping to get married at our church, and then have a nice reception. I love lilies and I'd have them both in my bouquet and wrapped around the four-tiered cake. I'm thinking buttercream frosting with white batter. Or we could do chocolate. I kno
w how you love chocolate cake.”

  “Hold on. Wait a minute. Who would we invite, Amy? Our parents are gone. People only have weddings for their parent's benefit anyway. The only people to invite would be the old cronies from Dad's office and some of your distant relatives from Colorado. Let's just take the cruise. We'd knock out the wedding and honeymoon in one shot.” He put the half-empty bottle back in the refrigerator. I was hoping he'd refrain from belching. I couldn't take having my wedding plans ripped to shreds with an ending of bodily gases exiting my groom's mouth.

  Did he actually say knock out? Is that how he saw marriage to his bride? When I saw pumpkin-carved carriages and footman wearing tuxedos. This was becoming sad. “You don't want a church wedding?”

  He took my hand off the computer keyboard and squatted next to me.

  “Honey, I just want to go away and get married. Nothing big, just you and me. What do you say? We can take the money that would be wasted on a wedding and buy new furniture for the house or something.”

  He always got his way when he looked so pitiful. My dreams disappeared into thin air as I agreed to take the cruise double-hitter. Two birds, one stone.

  As I looked at the setting of this decorated reception with Mark, all my sleepy dreams awakened. It was as if the plans of my own reception had come true and sat right in front of me. This was it. The table at the far end had the four-tiered wedding cake and two champagne glasses waiting beside it for the final toast. The bride and groom strolled from table to table, laughing and stealing kisses from one another.

  Mark picked an empty table past the spotlights of the party, close to the edge of the stamped-concrete pad. I set down my purse, my pulse beating rapidly inside me. Do they have wedding bouncers? Wesley wouldn't even begin to recognize the girl I posed as today. Wedding crasher?