Flower Girl Bride

by Dana Corbit

  “What’s that secret smile about? What are you not saying?”

  My posture and my expression tightened over being caught daydreaming impossibilities again.

  “I wasn’t trying to get you to stop smiling. Only asking what made you smile.”

  I shrugged but didn’t look at him. “He’s a great kid is all,” I said, opting for a blanket truth if I couldn’t be more specific. “This place is beautiful at night. I heard you don’t live too far from here. You probably spend a lot of time at the beach.”

  “Not much. My job keeps me busy.”

  He didn’t mention that his son kept him hopping, too, but I wouldn’t have expected any less from Sam.

  “Aunt Eleanor said you work for a real estate developer?”

  “I’m pretty much Clyde Lewis’s hands and feet. Clyde is loaded, so he likes to write the checks, and I handle all the rest. The permits, the subcontractors, the headaches. We’ve worked together ten years, and we’ve tripled company holdings since then.”

  I couldn’t help being impressed. There was just something about a man with drive that got to me every time.

  I would have asked him more—I knew how much men liked to talk about themselves—but he surprised me by turning the subject back to me.

  “So what does a speech pathologist do? Your aunt tried to explain it, but I didn’t really get it.”

  He also probably wasn’t listening too closely when Aunt Eleanor was marketing me like an infomercial, but I kept that to myself.

  “Speech paths—that’s what we call ourselves—identify and diagnose speech and language disorders.”

  “You mean like stuttering?”

  “That’s one,” I said. “Stuttering is a fluency disorder, but I also work with children who have articulation disorders, meaning difficulty pronouncing certain sounds.

  “Really, most of my caseload are students who have trouble learning language and semantics and have trouble learning grammar functions. Besides working with groups of students, I do initial screenings and in-depth evaluations with other professionals such as the school psychologist and an occupational therapist.”

  “Sounds like challenging work.”

  I stopped walking and turned to study him, certain he was making fun of me. He was looking back at me, but he wasn’t smiling. “Sorry about that. I do go on sometimes.”

  “I did ask. Anyway, you seem to love your job.”

  “I do. I like seeing the kids showing improvement in functional ways. It makes their lives better.”

  “Your students are lucky to have you.”

  My skin warmed with pleasure. “Thanks.” A gal could get used to hearing praise like that. I wondered if he would mind hanging around the hallways at my school to offer encouragement whenever I was having a tough day.

  “Looks like you got a sunburn today,” he said, moving on to another subject.

  “I did. Just my face and shoulders. I never thought to wear sunscreen to a wedding.”

  “You mean it wasn’t on your list. Dress, basket of flowers, sunscreen.”

  “I’ll put it on my list next time.”

  “Next time?” His baritone laughter drifted on the breeze. “I sure hope these two lovebirds don’t try this thing again in another twenty-five years. I’ll be the first gray-haired ring bearer ever.”

  “And I’ll look like a mess as a fifty-four-year-old flower girl.”

  I wasn’t certain, but I thought I heard him say, “I doubt that.”

  But when he looked back at me again, he lifted an eyebrow. “Fifty-four? Don’t you mean fifty-five?”

  I shook my head. “You might be thirty, but one of us is still twenty-nine. I doubt you’ll remember this, but I was only four when I was my aunt’s flower girl.”

  A slow smile spread across Luke’s lips. “So I take it there are months until your milestone thirtieth birthday?”

  “It’s a month from today—the third of July.”

  “You were an early firecracker baby?”

  “Something like that.”

  As soon as we rounded the house, the crisp breeze off the lake enveloped me, snaking over my sunburned shoulders and between my shoulder blades. I shivered. The filmy material of my dress just wouldn’t do now that the last sunlight had disappeared.

  “Here.” Luke draped his jacket around my shoulders.

  “Thanks.” Pulling the jacket more tightly around me, I shrugged off the tingling at my shoulders where his fingers had brushed. I just hadn’t warmed up yet.

  We paused when we reached the landing at the top of the drive. Up ahead of us, Sam had crossed over the deck and was tripping down the weather-roughened wood stairs that led to the beach.

  Luke gestured with a nod of his head toward his son. “I’d better catch him. He probably won’t toss your shoe into the lake, but you never know what a boy will do when the adrenaline gets going.”

  “You don’t think he’ll throw himself into the lake, do you?”

  His only answer was a nervous shrug before we both hurried across the deck and down the same stairs the boy had taken.

  “Sam, stop!”

  Luke might as well have yelled into a spinning fan—the wind and the crash of waves easily muffled his command. Without bothering to take off his shoes, Sam plowed out onto the beach, past the site where the wedding had taken place. He seemed to be running straight toward the dark expanse of water.

  Luke shot out across the beach, calling out to his son again. This time Sam stopped and turned around. His shoulders hunched, he stomped back to us.

  Still holding my shoe, Sam frowned up at me. “You were supposed to chase me.”

  “And you’re not supposed to get in the water by yourself,” Luke answered before I could say anything.

  “I wasn’t in the water.” Sam drew his eyebrows together, looking at his father as if he thought Luke was missing a few volumes of his encyclopedia set.

  Luke grunted, and I managed to squelch a laugh. The kid did have a point. His shoes were sandy but not wet.

  “True,” Luke said finally. “You’re not supposed to run off with people’s things, either.”

  Sam looked down at the shoe in his hand and then up at me. “Uh…sorry.”

  He slipped the strap of the shoe back over my fingers alongside its mate.

  “No damage done.” Reaching down with my free hand, I brushed back his windblown hair. “Sorry, I was too tired to play chase right now.”

  The incident immediately forgotten, Sam turned back to Luke. “On the bus, Mrs. Hudson said we’re going to eat some more wedding cake.”

  “Look, Sam, I’m sure she didn’t mean us.” He took his son’s hand and led him to the deck steps. “She was probably talking about—”

  “No, Daddy. She did. She really did. She meant us. Please, can we stay?”

  Instead of answering, Luke half led, half dragged Sam up the steps. The boy was doing an award-worthy performance of a rag doll, while I followed gamely behind.

  “Of course, you’ll stay.” The words came from above us.

  The voice turned out to be my aunt’s. She was looking down from the deck, already alight with miniature strands and huge floods. Aunt Eleanor looked comfortable now, having traded her white gown for a pink velour sweat suit. Only the flowers still woven in her hair hinted she had so recently been a bride.

  Luke hoisted Sam up on his hip to climb the last few steps. “Sorry, Eleanor. It’s late, and I need to get Sam to bed.”

  “Everybody’s got time for one more piece of cake.”

  “No, really—”

  Having reached the landing beside them, I shook my head to interrupt his argument. “You’re wasting your breath. My aunt’s power of persuasion is just as legendary as your mom’s, and you know how well that went.”

  Luke’s jaw tightened, but he raised his hands in surrender. “Fine. One piece. Then it’s home to bed.”

  Eleanor brushed her hand across her brow in an exaggerated gesture. “Whew.
I thought that was going to be a tough argument.”

  I would have agreed with her, and it was unsettling how pleased I felt that Luke and Sam would be staying a while longer. Mostly Sam. It had to be about Sam, right?

  “Yea!” Sam called, the rag doll quickly replaced by an animated little boy.

  My uncle pulled open the sliding-glass door. “Either get inside and get a piece of this cake or I’ll have to eat more. Wouldn’t want any of it to go to waste.”

  “How good of you to think with a conservationist’s mind, dear.”

  Everyone laughed at Eleanor’s comment except for Sam, who was too busy scrambling out of his father’s arms and rushing into the house to notice.

  Eleanor watched him go before turning back to Luke and me. “You didn’t have to tell him twice.”

  Luke just shook his head. “Now there’s a boy who needs more sugar tonight.”

  Still, Luke couldn’t hide his look of amusement and adoration as he watched his son through the window. That expression of a proud father couldn’t be faked. My heart squeezed for more reasons than I wanted to analyze.

  When my aunt cleared her throat, I realized I wasn’t the only one who’d been watching Luke, or me for that matter. She glanced back and forth between us, her eyes widening as she took in the fact that I was still wearing Luke’s jacket.

  I was tempted to shed it right then, but that would have only have made it seem like a big deal that he’d let me wear it. And it wasn’t a big deal—just a gentlemanly gesture and that was all.

  “Well, we’d better get some cake before my Jack makes good on his threat to eat it all.” Eleanor yawned behind her hand. “I do believe I’m about to wilt, and I still have to show my niece here Princess’s routine so we can leave on our honeymoon tomorrow.”

  Eleanor crossed the deck and stepped through the slider, closing the screen door behind her. Air-conditioning wasn’t usually necessary at night because of the breeze off the water, but with the bugs, screens were always a must.

  Once she was gone, Luke turned back to me, his eyebrow raised.

  “I’m cat-sitting and house-sitting.” I supplied the answer as if it were the smallest thing in the world. Taking care of Princess would be anything but a small undertaking.

  “For how long?”

  “Three weeks. Just until my aunt and uncle get back from Europe.”

  He glanced over his shoulder at the amazing house and then turned back to me. “How’d you end up pulling tough duty like that?”

  “Family connections. What can I say?”

  Starting into the house, I turned and motioned for Luke to follow. I set my shoes on the floor next to the door and slipped off Luke’s tuxedo jacket, pressing it into his arms.

  “Thanks. I appreciate it.” I rubbed my hands together, trying to ignore the odd sensation in my fingers from having brushed his.

  My aunt was already in the kitchen dishing up slices from the remaining hunk of wedding cake. Several other guests, most of whom had already traded their wedding attire for casual comfort, were scattered about the great room, chatting or nibbling on leftovers. Uncle Jack and Sam sat at the bar that divided the great room from the kitchen, eating pieces of cake and drinking from tall glasses of milk.

  I sauntered past them barefoot into the kitchen and lifted the cake server from Eleanor’s hand. I sliced a few more pieces and placed them on the clear glass dessert plates my aunt had spread out on the counter.

  “You’re tired,” I told her. “You don’t have to show me everything tonight. Just make a list. I’ll be able to figure it out.” If I couldn’t manage something as simple as a list of cat duties, then my master’s degree wasn’t worth the parchment it was written on.

  “We won’t have much time before church, and we have to leave for the Muskegon Airport right after,” Jack pointed out. “You know, it’s rush-rush-rush so we can fly to Detroit Metro for that long layover. What is it, four hours?”

  Eleanor nodded. “I guess if we hurry in the morning, we’ll be able to show you everything. Our sweetie will need her three meals plus snacks.”

  As she spoke, she ticked off list items on her fingers. “Her litter box will need regular scooping and fully changing every third day. Then there’s playtime with her toys and, of course, her drinks.”

  “Drinks?” Luke and I both asked at the same time, and I glanced back at him, surprised to find him behind me. He reached past me to take one of the plates, a fork and a napkin.

  Uncle Jack’s rumble of laughter filled the room. “It’s a funny story, isn’t it, Ellie?”

  “It’s funny, all right.” She gave her husband a warm look before letting the rest of the crowd in on the joke. “When Princess was a kitten, we used to turn the faucet on to let her bat at the water. Cats like to do that sometimes. Well, as it turns out, she likes to drink from the faucet, too.”

  “But she also drinks from a water bowl, right?” Luke asked.

  Eleanor shook her head. “No, not really. I mean she might if every faucet in the house were broken and there wasn’t a flowing drop to spare, but I’ve never seen evidence that she even touches her water bowl.”

  “And my tenderhearted Ellie thought it would be cruel to dehydrate the little tooters just to break her of the habit when we were always around anyway.” Jack explained.

  “Princess is a little…privileged then?” Luke said.

  “Spoiled rotten is what she is,” Jack said, laughing again. “She rules the roost around here, but we love her anyway.”

  “She’s our baby,” Eleanor agreed.

  Everybody seemed to think this was hilarious—everyone except me. I was too busy trying to fight off the cloud of doom dangling over me. What had I gotten myself into? Princess turned into a feline chainsaw whenever we crossed paths, and I was expected to give her drinks from the faucet. I would have to feed her and play with her and make sure her kitty potty smelled fresh all while having to avoid the business end of her claws.

  While the others continued to laugh, Luke leaned close to me and whispered, “It’s not such a plum job after all.”

  I shrugged since he had a point.

  Yvonne and Marcus Sheridan, who’d been talking to some other guests in the great room, made their way into the kitchen together, and Yvonne rested an elbow on the bar next to her grandson.

  “It looks as if we’ve done justice to the cake.” Yvonne turned to admire the platter where only crumbs and a thick wedge of decorator icing remained to suggest there’d once been a three-tiered cake.

  “It’s all gone,” Sam observed, swiping his finger across the platter and popping the frosting in his mouth.

  Luke shook his head, probably to discourage his son from double-dipping. “Yes, it is, and it’s also time for us to go.”

  “But, Daddy.”

  But, Luke. I had to look around to determine whether I’d said it out loud. Why I’d almost said it was a whole other matter. A dozen or so wedding guests remained in my aunt and uncle’s great room, so it wasn’t as if I’d be alone when they left, but I sensed that most of the fun I’d been having all night would leave with Luke and his son.

  “But nothing,” Luke told him. “We’re out of here.” He lifted his son and spun around until the boy giggled.

  When Luke set him on his feet again, Sam turned to me, holding his arms wide to steady himself. “Grammy said you’re staying here for three whole weeks.”

  “I am. It’ll be nice to relax.”

  “Grammy said when your aunt and uncle leave that you’ll be lonely.”

  “Oh, she did, did she?” Luke glared at his mother, who only smiled back at him.

  Apparently, Yvonne hadn’t given up on her matchmaking scheme, and from the silly expression on my aunt’s face, I guessed she wasn’t willing to throw in the towel, either. I should have been mad enough to throw a towel—or something with better aim—at the both of them, but I wasn’t. I didn’t even want to think about what that might mean.

  “Me
and Daddy can come over tomorrow so you won’t be lonely. We could go swimming at the beach and make sand castles and—”

  “Samuel—”

  “Wow,” I said, interrupting another one of Luke’s parental warning growls. “That’s so nice of you to think of me.”

  His gaze focused on me instead of his father, Sam beamed.

  “You know better than to invite yourself over to people’s houses,” Luke said.

  That sweet smile fell, and I found myself grasping for a way to put it back on Sam’s little face. A bribe of more cake came to mind, but there weren’t enough crumbs on that platter to satisfy a mouse with a sweet tooth.

  “Hey, that’s all right,” I said.

  “No…it’s not.”

  Luke’s words and his tight expression didn’t leave room for argument, especially since he was right. I shouldn’t have been sticking my nose in when Luke was trying to teach his son good manners. Sam had no business inviting himself over to my house—well, for the next three weeks it was my house, anyway.

  “Sorry, Miss Cassie.”

  “I forgive you.”

  “That’s better.” Luke bent slightly so he could rest his hand on his son’s shoulder.

  As I looked between father and son, I couldn’t help smiling. Just because Sam wasn’t allowed to invite himself places didn’t mean the boy and his father couldn’t accept an invitation from me. And I realized with a start that I wanted badly to ask.

  There were so many reasons why I should resist the impulse, not the least of which was the baggage I carried inside me, and if mine wasn’t enough, Luke probably had a suitcase or a duffel bag to spare.

  What was I thinking? Sam had only suggested a day at the beach, not a lifetime commitment. My brain had to be on wedding overload today. Too much wedding music. Too much lace and chiffon. Even too much of that heady scent of flowers. Wedding lag. That and a sunburn, too. And I’d thought I was a real mess before I showed up in Mantua.

  Luke hefted Sam up on his hip and turned to his mother. “We’ll see you tomorrow at church.”