The Girl with the Broken Heart

by Lurlene McDaniel

  Martha, all smiles, said, “Can I get you some apple cider?”

  “We can’t stay,” Kenzie told them. “Lot of chores waiting for us at Bellmeade, plus we should get Oro out of the trailer because of the heat.”

  “Of course, what was I thinking? He’s a gorgeous horse. Lani’s showed us pictures of him on her phone.”

  Outside, Austin unloaded Oro. The palomino’s golden coat gleamed in the sunlight, and Kenzie was glad that she and Austin had taken some extra time to brush and fluff the horse’s long white mane and tail. “He is beautiful,” Martha whispered, tears filling her eyes.

  Austin handed the lead line attached to Oro’s halter to Kenzie. “I’ll grab the saddle gear.”

  They all walked to the back side of the house, where over an acre of land had been fenced with new lumber. Bright green grass blanketed the ground. “I built this enclosure for the horse,” Jim said. “I set up that lean-to on the side nearest Jamey’s bedroom window.” He gestured at a slant-top structure enclosed on three sides, a shelter from heat that also held a watering trough and a bin for grain and hay. “Lani’s told us what he’ll need, and we’ll take real good care of him.”

  The effort Jamey’s parents had put into preparing for her special gift, despite knowing the horse wouldn’t remain long in the field, nor Jamey in their home, brought a lump to Kenzie’s throat. Losing someone quick, losing someone slow—either way the weight of sorrow was impossibly heavy. “You’re going to spoil him rotten.”

  “The grass looks amazing,” Austin said.

  “We have a well on our land, so we water the pasture and the garden every evening. Just as soon as Lani mentioned loaning Jamey her horse, I sowed special fast-growing grass seed to thicken up what was already there.”

  “That’s Jamey’s room, and her bed is right under that window.” Martha pointed at a window on the house’s back side. “From it, she can look out and see Oro wherever he’s in the field anytime she wants. You know, on the days when she might not be up to riding. Or wanting to be outside.”

  “But I’ll be sure she gets to ride anytime she feels up to it,” Jim said. “I’m a trucker, but my boss knows I won’t be hauling for a while.”

  Seeing Kenzie standing stiff and silent, Austin guessed where her thoughts lay. He touched her elbow and said the one thing he knew would pull her away. “We should go finish up with our horses, don’t you think?”

  She startled. “Oh, yes, of course.” She gave the Taylors an enthusiastic smile. “You’ve done a wonderful job here, and I know Oro will be very content. I’ll be sure and tell Lani at her wedding on Saturday.”

  “She invited us, but…” Martha didn’t complete the sentence.

  Kenzie and Austin told them goodbye, returned to the truck, and Austin backed the vehicle and the long horse trailer expertly out of the driveway and onto the road, where they drove the distance to Bellmeade in silence.

  * * *

  —

  The wedding ceremony was set for six p.m. on Saturday at the Presbyterian church on Main Street downtown, the reception at a specialized event venue almost twenty miles from Windemere. Kenzie and Austin fed and exercised their horses, working quickly and knocking off early to shower and dress for the evening ahead. He walked her to the screened porch. “How about I ring your doorbell about five?”

  “I’ll be ready.”

  Kenzie took her time preparing for the evening ahead—a long shower with scented soap, hair washed and dried, soft makeup, including a pale lip gloss. On a whim, she left her hair down in a shimmering waterfall, fastened at the nape of her neck with a single gold clip. She stepped into the dress, examined her image in her bedroom mirror, felt transformed. Why had she gone to so much trouble? She’d never much fussed over her looks or clothing. In private school, she’d worn uniforms, and in college, tattered jeans and tees or sweatshirts, depending on the weather. On top of that, she never took time for a serious boyfriend in high school—too busy with horse shows and competitions—and at Vandy, while other girls were having date nights at frat bashes, she kept to her studies. When sorority rush week descended, she’d ignored the frenzy.

  For so long, she had been drawn to logic and analysis, instead of the “touchy-feely” side of life. Caring about horses was simple. Caring for people, more complex. And yet tonight, she cared very much about what she looked like and who she would be with. “I do this for Austin,” she confessed to the girl in the mirror. Kenzie’s life course was already set, yet she wished to keep the memory of this night with him tucked inside her heart. She’d need it when the dark times that lay ahead came for her.

  The sound of the doorbell gave her a start. “Just a minute!” She grabbed her wristlet purse and a pair of white strappy sandals with kitten heels, hopped on one foot, flung open the door, and tripped over the threshold. She pitched forward, and Austin caught her. “Whoa! Watch out.” He gripped her forearms and stood her upright, and they held each other’s gaze a moment too long. “You okay?”

  “I wasn’t throwing myself at you,” she joked self-consciously. “Sorry, I lost my footing.”

  He couldn’t stop staring at her. “Don’t outshine the bride tonight.”

  Her cheeks warmed. “Can’t happen.”

  In his eyes, she already did.

  The Presbyterian church on Main Street was built entirely of Tennessee River rock, stones smoothed and tinted pale gray by water and time, stacked, fitted, and mortared together in the early 1920s. The church stood on a downtown corner like a regal queen, crowned with a copper spire aged to a green patina. Inside, stone walls soared upward to dark wood beams that crisscrossed an expansive ceiling. On stone floors, rows of mahogany pews were separated by a wide center aisle, where yards of white sheeting stretched from the back of the church to the front. Stone steps, a row of candelabras with flickering taper candles, and numerous vases holding perfumed clusters of snow-white summer flowers showcased a solid marble altar and a magnificent stained-glass window set into the rock.

  Finding a parking place had proven difficult, and Kenzie and Austin rushed in, minutes late. The two slipped into a back pew just as a minister in a long dark robe stepped through an inconspicuous side door, followed by Dawson Berke and his best man. Dawson wore a formal vested tuxedo of deep charcoal gray, a black dress shirt, and a black necktie. With his jet-black hair and piercing dark eyes, he was strikingly elegant.

  “Not your traditional tux,” Austin whispered in Kenzie’s ear.

  Bridesmaids in summery dresses escorted on the arms of groomsmen came down the aisle, and once attendants were in place, a pipe organ in a balcony began playing “Pachelbel’s Canon in D.” Guests stood and turned to face the narthex where Lani and her father began a slow walk toward the altar. Lani was sheathed in an off-the-shoulder white gown, its bodice sparkling with small crystals and seed pearls. The dress hugged her lithe body, flared at her ankles into a flounce of satin and chiffon. Her veil, a simple layer of netting, brushed her shoulders but couldn’t hide her radiant smile. A lace train trailed each measured step.

  Kenzie watched, mesmerized, and as Lani passed, she saw that the bridal bouquet was a nosegay of white roses with a single red rose in its center. Kenzie wondered at that, for it seemed odd to see the vivid red burst when every other flower in the church was white.

  The ceremony, the taking of the vows, and the exchange of rings came just as the last rays of a setting sun hit the stained-glass window. Guests gasped as a kaleidoscope of color splashed over Lani’s white dress and Dawson’s gray suit, evanescent stains that faded as daylight lost its power, and candle glow took the sun’s place.

  When the minister said, “You may kiss your bride,” Dawson lifted the veil, gathered Lani in his arms, and sealed their marriage with a lingering kiss. As they turned toward their guests, the minister announced, “It is now my privilege to introduce you to Mr. and Mrs. Da
wson Berke.” Applause erupted and the smiling couple rushed back down the aisle to the joyous strains of Mendelssohn’s “Wedding March.” Soon after, guests poured out of the pews, but Kenzie stood immobilized, caught up in emotion, as pictures from the past flowed like water through her mind. Little girls playing dress-up. A Prince Charming who never came. A destroyer who did.

  “Kenzie? You okay?” Austin’s voice broke through her trance. She glanced around, saw that the church had emptied. Austin looked concerned. “You seemed a million miles away.”

  “Yes, yes! I’m fine. Let’s get out of here.” Embarrassed, she hustled toward the doors, with Austin jogging after her.

  * * *

  —

  The ride to the reception was subdued, with Kenzie wrapped in a pensive cloak. On the way to the wedding, she’d been upbeat, talkative. Austin almost asked her if she’d rather return to Bellmeade but decided against offering her the option. The party would be lively, and perhaps the food, music, and celebration would lift her spirits.

  The venue was nestled on acres of rolling land with the pavilion atop a hill, designed as an Italian villa with trellises of clinging bougainvillea vines on outer walls. By the time the two of them arrived, the main room was filled with happy chattering people lined up at tables heaped with appetizers, small plates, and coolers of cold drinks. Austin touched Kenzie’s elbow. “Want something to eat?”

  “Not yet.” They walked into an adjoining, less crowded room with tables and folding chairs. At the front stood a rectangular table draped in white linen, ribbons, and flowers. In its center were two elaborately decorated cakes, one chocolate, the other a stately tiered tower of dazzling white frosting.

  “Look at that mountain of sugar shock!”

  She barely glanced at the cakes. “Can we keep moving?”

  Another set of doors led to a spacious tiled patio area decorated with strings of starry twinkle lights. Groupings of tables and chairs surrounded a generous dance floor, and a DJ stood at a turntable playing an eclectic mix of dance music. Kenzie halted, skimmed the faces and groups, realized she recognized no one. She felt her chest compress. “There are so many people.”

  “Same people as at the church.” Austin saw her uneasiness—same discomfort level with unfamiliar faces as he’d seen on the day of the pool party.

  “When do you think the wedding party will get here?”

  “Photographers can take a while getting their perfect shots. Don’t worry. Everyone will show up as soon as they can.” Austin craned his neck and, slipping his arm around her waist, said, “I see a lake down the hill. Want to check it out with me?”

  “Yes…that’s a good idea.”

  He took her hand and led her down a grassy slope toward trees strung with more twinkle lights and the sound of water lapping against reeds. Underwater lights near the shoreline shimmered as a soft evening breeze rippled the water’s surface. The sloping hill, water rustling the reeds, and the hum of katydids muffled the noise from the reception. Fireflies hovered, twinkling, disappearing, reappearing. He walked her to a meditation bench and together they sat facing the lake.

  Kenzie watched fireflies, waiting for her pulse to calm. Eyes forward, she said, “You must think I’m acting crazy.”

  “I think something upset you. The wedding?”

  “No. The wedding was beautiful. I’m glad we went.” She looked down at her hands in her lap. “I had a flashback. When…when Dawson lifted Lani’s veil…a memory. It slammed me. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to space out on you.”

  “Want to talk about it? I’m a good listener.”

  Her birthday in the gazebo…sharing her memories of Caroline aloud…how free and weightless she had felt afterward. Then came images of Austin pulling away, shoving pillows and quilts into seat boxes. “I…I shouldn’t dump my baggage on you about stuff that happened years ago.”

  “I don’t mind, Kenzie. But no pressure.”

  She toyed with a gold hoop earring in her earlobe. “It’s a funny memory, actually. And it shouldn’t have brought me down like it did. I was eleven and Caroline was seven. It was summer, and we were in the gazebo, and very bored. Caro said she wanted to play dress-up. She wanted to be a bride. She had stuffed a princess dress left over from Halloween in one of the seat boxes and dragged it out.”

  Austin would never forget the afternoon of her birthday, the patter of the rain, the scent of her hair and skin, the gray wash of light on her exquisite face. Fear of falling had pulled him away from her that day.

  “Mom cut up an old lace tablecloth and made Caro a veil that came all the way to the floor in the back and just skimmed her chin in the front. We pinned it to Caroline’s wild head of hair so it wouldn’t fall off.”

  “So what part did you play?”

  “Bridesmaid. We picked flowers from the garden for her bouquet and Mom fashioned headpieces for us out of some grapevine and daisies.”

  “Who was the lucky groom?”

  “Our dog, but he proved unfaithful. As soon as his treats were gone, he was out of there.” Austin burst out laughing, and Kenzie joined him, the sound as sweet as the memory. “We marched from the middle of the lawn into the gazebo, and Caro made up marriage promises to never ever cook anything yucky for dinner or get mad for no reason, and then I lifted her veil and she kissed the air.” Caroline leaning forward, eyes scrunched closed, lips puckered. Kenzie let the image fade into the night lit with fireflies. She turned toward Austin. “Afterward, we ate cookies and drank cherry soda. It was quite an event.”

  “Sounds like a happy day. I mean, cookies and cherry soda—what’s better?”

  “I’d forgotten about it, but today, when Dawson raised Lani’s veil…” She paused. “My sister will never be a bride.” Her voice turned whispery.

  And there it was. Every single milestone in Kenzie’s life would be marked by Caroline’s choice. Wreckage strewn across the landscape of a family’s life, a smear that would never be scrubbed away. “Did you know the guy, the boyfriend who dumped the photos online?” The question was risky, but he asked anyway.

  “His name is Dylan Lawrence.” Austin waited patiently, believing she was in a mood to talk but not wanting to crowd her. After a long silence, she said, “Dylan was a junior at our school when I was a senior. Big football star. He took the team to the state championships two years in a row, helped win the title during my freshman year at Vanderbilt. He was good-looking, confident, smart…and controlling. He had his pick of any girl at our school.”

  “I know guys like that. They have an overblown sense of self-importance, like the world owes them something.”

  She waited a beat. “Caro was a freshman. New to the high school campus. Naïve. Longing for a boyfriend. Easy pickings for Dylan. He had a girlfriend, of course, but he still went after my sister. I know he talked her into taking those selfies and sending the photos to him. Dad and I found the file on her computer.” Kenzie shook her head. “Along with a message that read ‘DL…Because you love me and because I love you too. Forever, Your Caro.’ ” Even now, Kenzie saw the words in computer script punctuated with heart emojis.

  “Did he spread the photos around?” In cyberspace, digitals lived forever.

  “He swore he didn’t. Said his girlfriend found them on his phone and went ballistic, and she and her minions pushed them out everywhere. After Caro—” Kenzie’s voice cracked. She wrapped her arms around her midsection, rocked forward. “Everyone was like ‘So sorry, we didn’t mean any harm. We had no idea.’ They built little memorials to her outside the school gym. They cried on camera for reporters. All their sympathies came too late. My sister was gone.”

  “Did anyone get punished?”

  “Some of the girls got a few days’ suspension because of their mean-girl posts. Dylan got a football scholarship.”

  The puzzle pieces from the night of the pool
party fell into place. Kenzie had heard the announcement on Austin’s car radio. No wonder she had bolted. Life really wasn’t fair. “I’ve seen it happen. The guilty sometimes walk free.” He couldn’t tell her how he knew this truth, but he certainly knew it. He chose his next words carefully, haltingly. “Kenzie, it may seem that people go unpunished for what they’ve done in life. But often life has a way of balancing the scales. I’ve seen it happen firsthand.”

  She offered a sad smile, and he wished he could wrap his arms around her, but how could he? He had set boundaries in place, self-imposed fences. Less than six weeks until goodbye.

  Sounds of shouts, clapping, and loud music from the hill behind them meant that the wedding party had arrived. “Want to go up or stay here?” he asked.

  Her ghosts fled. She took Austin’s hand and rose to face him. “I want to go celebrate. I want to have a good time. I think the wedding was amazing, and Lani was gorgeous, don’t you?”

  “I do.” Austin, looking in her eyes, echoed the words Dawson had spoken to seal his vows, words that forever bind hearts.

  Kenzie felt her heart stumble. A warning voice inside her head. Don’t fall. Once he left Bellmeade, they wouldn’t talk much again. Maybe a phone call to catch up one day, but they’d each become immersed in their separate lives, and catch-up calls would dwindle into nothingness. He was, for a few more weeks, her teammate, her friend. She backed away. “For the record, you were right. It helped to talk. Thank you for listening. Again.” She tendered a smile, turned, moved a few steps in front of him.

  “Wait.” She stopped, heart racing. He touched her shoulder, leaned forward. “There’s a firefly caught in your hair. I see its tail light.”

  The whisper of his breath caused goose bumps to break out over her skin. “Can you save it?”

  A laugh from deep in his throat. “Most girls would have said, ‘Eek! Get it off me!’ ”