“Oh, and if you need a wedding planner I have another recommendation,” I say offhandedly to Mindy. “Logistically I don’t know how it’ll work for you, but I’d totally be happy to give a recommendation.”
I return to my table, Allison and Lara whispering to each other and sharing a laugh. “Well,” I say with a sigh. I plunk down into my chair. “Now, let’s get back to business.”
Taking a small sip of my drink, I pull up my shoulders in a comfortable and satisfactory shrug.
Sometimes a girl’s just gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. Butterflies are whirling about my stomach, but not because I’m nervous or anxious or even a tad embarrassed over the scene I’ve made—because I’m really excited. I glance at my sparkling wedding ring and my smile, despite my lips poised at the brim of my teacup, grows. I’m getting married. I’m having a wedding. And everything’s going to be just the way it’s supposed to be!
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Are those church bells I hear ringing?
Yes, they are!
The day is here. The big wedding day!
Rehearsal went smoothly yesterday. Really smoothly…er…so long as you don’t count the number of times my mom leaned over next to me at our table to comment on how short my dad’s girlfriend’s dress was. Or how large and, what did she say? “How plastic-y they were.”
It was really easy-going if you ignored the high-pitched giggle (more like cackle) that Conner’s stepmother let out every time someone said something mildly amusing during a speech.
It was a super smooth rehearsal if you could never mind the photos of Russian beauties, of what happens when you’re stoned in Amsterdam, and of dumb-ass things to do in Barcelona when you’ve had one too many pitchers of sangria, that Conner’s twin brothers couldn’t stop sharing.
Overall it was a great rehearsal! Look, there may have been some moments during dinner that made me turn a deep shade of crimson, but looking back it was in every way memorable and ideal. It was a Conner and Claire rehearsal. What else can I say? Classic.
Since I’m feeling quite like my old self again, calm and letting things easily slide off my back, and always trying to look at that glass half full, I didn’t let the bumpy morning yesterday rattle me very much, either. The rest of the day’s events went by in a flash, and I knew I could either enjoy them or grouse about the few things that weren’t exactly perfect.
I woke up yesterday morning feeling not at all very rested. I had major puffiness under my eyes, but I knew I’d read somewhere that there’s a curious solution to morning eye puffiness. The solution, of course, I couldn’t remember, so Lara came to my rescue. She told me that all I had to do was pick up a tube of Preparation H. I argued with her on that one, but she insisted, and thank God I heeded her advice. Puffiness be gone!
In the end, despite the minor aches and pains that seem to come with being a bride, the rehearsal was a smashing hit, and I know the wedding, only hours away, will be the same!
Allison’s been texting and calling me throughout the morning and afternoon, on the occasions she’s not with me, letting me know that things are going well, or reminding me of where to be next. She’s a serious godsend.
All of the girls and my mom have been so helpful, and they look great, I must say. The blue dresses are lovely, and I had to thank Maggie for diverting me from the green. (Although I’m sure they’d be lovely, too.)
Everyone’s excited, sipping on Dom Pérignon that Jackie surprised us with, compliments of her and Andrew. She even made sure our suite at the church, where we’ve been spending hours getting ready, was supplied with a catered lunch. There was even a masseuse waiting for any of the girls who were starting to feel tense and needed a little neck or back or hand massage. Crazy luxury!
Erika’s just finished applying my makeup and it looks just the way I want it—very natural. Conner will love it!
My hair is done up in a chignon, but with lots of curly tendrils spilling out all around. It’s the perfect up-do for my veil, which Robin has taken the honors of fluffing one more time.
“Perfect,” Robin says, hugging her arms to her chest. “Oh, I have chills, Claire. You look beautiful.”
I can feel myself blushing, and not only because of her compliment or the sentimentality of the day, but because I know in only a matter of minutes I’ll be seeing Conner. He’s finally going to get to see me in my dream Vera Wang gown.
“I’m going to cry,” Mom says, waving a ceremony program at her face. “Oh no. The mascara will run.” She waves more rapidly.
“Waterproof,” Erika says, snapping closed her makeup kit. “Here’s a backup tube.” She walks across the room and hands the mascara to Allison who’s standing with a walkie-talkie and a sheaf of papers in one hand and a cell phone in the other, pressed to her ear. Allison takes the tube and sticks it in the front pocket of her black apron.
“And these,” Erika shows me a collection of various makeup products. “All backup samples to apply if you need touchups later.” I nod and look back as Sophie arranges the folds and pleats of my gown’s skirt.
“Claire,” Allison calls out, holding the cell phone away from her mouth. “Photographer says you’re on for the first look in five. Let’s get you out there.”
I steady my breathing and look at my mom, who, probably because she now knows the mascara is waterproof, is crying. She’s dabbing at the stream of tears cascading down both her cheeks with the light blue hankie of hers. It matches the one she gave me—a tradition among the women in my family, passed all the way down at least from my great-grandmother. These two hankies have been in the family for quite some time, judging by the look of them. I’ve tucked mine in my brassiere-corset—the perfect way to get my “something blue.”
“Okay,” I say, “Mom, come on. Pull yourself together.” I rub her arm.
“Oh,” she cries, dabbing her tears. “I’m just so happy. My baby girl is getting married.”
I’m about to tell her to relax, that I’m already married, but I think better of that one quickly.
This is a very special time, and I’m sure it’s almost just as special for the mother of the bride as it is for the bride herself, though for different reasons and in different ways. Maybe someday I’ll know—someday when Conner and I have children. Ohh! Listen to that! Oh, the thought of having a family with him someday. Goodness. All of these fun and big life changes are almost too much to bear.
“I love you, Mom.” I pull Mom in for a warm and tight hug. “Thank you so much for everything you’ve done for my wedding. Thank you.” I kiss her softly on the cheek, not wanting to smear any of her lovely makeup job. Erika definitely hit this one out of the park. Everyone looks fantastic!
“I love you, Claire.” Mom firmly presses her lips together, trying to quash a flood of tears. “I’m so happy for you. So proud of you.”
“Show time!” Allison says, taking me by the hand. Sophie gives another fluff of the back of my dress, and when she says everything’s in place, I follow Allison out to where Conner will be awaiting me for our first look.
“Allison,” I say, looking up at her, “thank you so much. For everything. You’ve done a really great job.”
“My pleasure,” she says, patting my hand.
“You turned out to be a real-life Franck Eggelhoffer.”
She guffaws. “I only wish I could have been here sooner for you to spare you all the trouble and expense.”
“It’s the end result that matters.” I take in a deep breath and smile. “And everything’s a dream.”
Allison answers her crackling walkie-talkie, makes a concise exchange, then looks to me and says, “Conner’s just around the corner. Back facing you, ready for you to walk up and tap him on the shoulder…the left one, so when he turns the photographers can get both of your faces.”
“All right.”
She squeezes my hands, wishes me congratulations, and gently adjusts a lock of my hair. “He’s all yours, Claire.”
I turn t
he corner, trying so hard to keep my breathing steady, but it’s so difficult. It’s almost impossible, my nerves are quivering and the butterflies are flitting about so crazily.
Omigod. This is happening! This is happening! I thought I was nervous to see Conner at the park, and I mean, that was getting married! This is a first look. But still, it’s so exciting, it’s so overwhelming, and it’s so emotional.
I swallow, trying to dissolve the lump in my throat, but it won’t disappear. As I take one step closer, and then another, and another, closer to Conner, the photographers snapping left and right, the butterflies and nerves sort of coalesce into a feeling of what I’m pretty sure absolute bliss and peace of mind feels like. I’m immune to the pains of the world. There’s nothing more important in my world right now than the man who’s about to turn and face me and no doubt smile that warm smile of his.
I raise my hand to meet Conner’s shoulder and sigh as I tap it. He turns, and I look up into his eyes. I was wrong. It does feel like that night at the park. Staring into his eyes, knowing that we’re going to pledge our love to one another—it’s amazing. It’s the most unbelievable feeling I’ve ever had the pleasure to feel. I can marry this man once, twice, even five times, and I know I’ll still have those butterflies in my stomach, those emotions of pure joy and contentment, and that wide grin that I can’t stop myself from making.
“Claire,” Conner says. There’s a lone tear in the corner of his eye, and only when he breaks out into his broad grin does it let loose and fall down his cheek. “You’re gorgeous.”
It’s such a rapturous moment, I can’t hear or feel myself speak. Have I said anything? I don’t know. I’m just so happy and lost in his gaze. So I say, “I love you, Conner.”
He puts his arms around me, pulls me in close, and we have a kiss that’s shared with as much passion and love as that very kiss we had in the park after the officiant said we were husband and wife.
The photographer, Sandy, and his assistant, are shooting wildly from all angles. Only after Conner and I share another minute or two of looking at each other, taking in the moment, being together before the real hoopla of the wedding ensues, do the photographers suggest some fun poses.
“We have the initial, real-emotion shots,” Sandy says, snapping away. “They’re amazing, by the way, folks.” Some more snaps. “Now let’s do some fun poses. Conner, spin her around. Let’s get that dress flowing… There we go, there we go. Now let’s do some dip and kiss… That’s it… Have fun…”
Fun is exactly what we have! I am so happy I listened to Allison and chose to have a first look with Conner. Screw the old tradition of waiting to see your bride until at the end of the aisle, or once the veil’s been lifted. You know, I read somewhere that that tradition was only set because back in the day men received a dowry from the father’s of the brides and weren’t supposed to see the face of whom they were marrying because, well, they might then not want to marry her, despite the hefty sum of the dowry. Like if she was a real dog or something. I don’t know for sure; maybe I’m getting my facts wrong.
Conner, and the girls, actually, say that I often get my information wrong or twisted. I’m sure they’re right, and probably on this one, too. But anyway. The whole keeping myself hidden from the love of my life before the biggest moment of my life seems kind of silly.
“Show time again,” Allison says, coming up from the rear. She and Sophie have been fluffing the skirt of my gown for a while now. It got a little green stain and slightly wet from the grass during the first look, but I don’t care.
Allison brought out this stain-removing pen that’s especially for wedding gowns and sensitive material, and Sophie even brought out a hair dryer and blasted cold shots of air on it to speed up the drying process. I laughed the whole time, telling them that they didn’t need to bother. Everything was perfect, anyhow.
“You ready?” Allison asks. She takes a quick peek out the small window in the church doors. “On the other side of this door is your husband-to-be.”
“I was born ready, Allison,” I say with confidence.
“All righty then.” She depresses a button on her walkie-talkie and says, “Cue music.”
The beautiful sound of the string quartet playing Pachelbel’s “Canon in D” commences, and the bridesmaids begin to file, one by one, out the door.
I duck back to the side with Allison, so as not to be seen by the guests. I’m so eager, though, I just want to burst out through the doors, run up to the altar, and get this show on! I want to get married—for the second time—and I want to get on over to the gorgeous Chanfield Manor so I can party, celebrate, and eat a piece of cake that I’ve been thinking about since my meager breakfast.
One more fluff of the dress, a quick look-over of the veil, and Allison hands me the most gorgeous bridal bouquet I’ve ever seen. It’s a cream bouquet of roses and hydrangea and lisianthus, and it has some soft and fuzzy, mint-green leaves in it, with some cute little frosty-looking berries, small sprigs of blue and pink flowers that add only a hint of extra color to tie in with the wedding theme. There are even some flecks of gold glitter on some of the frosted berries. Wow. It’s perfect! I try not to squeeze the base of the bouquet too hard; I’m so nervous—but so very excited!
“Ready?” Allison looks at me with a big grin. “And you ready, Dad?”
I look at my father, whose arm is linked in mine, and he’s smiling. He doesn’t look sad—Dad’s not the crying type. If I’m not mistaken, he said at Maggie’s wedding he was happy to unload her because he never thought she’d break her granola ways and get married.
“I love you, Dad,” I say, causing him to turn his head to me. His brow is furrowed, and he has a very serious look about him. “You okay?”
“Definitely.” His look turns stoic.
“Thank you for this dream wedding, Dad. I don’t think I’ve ever really thanked you properly.” I inch closer to him. I squeeze his arm around mine, careful not to put much pressure on my healing (yet brace-less) wrist. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure,” he says with raised brows, looking through the door window. “I’m just happy you didn’t decide to have a damn hippie wedding like your sister. Never seen so many beards, long hair, and reefer-puffing kids in my life.”
“Oh, dad,” I say with a roll of the eyes. Mags’s wedding wasn’t even a hippie wedding, surprisingly. With no reason to argue, I just pat his hand and say, “I love you.”
“You know Buzz didn’t make it.” Still furrowing his brow. “My lawyer friend, Buzz? Great guy. Really great guy. He’s not here.”
I shake my head and smile. “Don’t worry, Dad. There are still two hundred other good friends and clients of yours here.”
“True, true.” His brow is still tightly knit, and he seems to be doing a headcount of his list of personal friends and colleagues through the tiny window.
Then, suddenly, the music changes to Wagner’s “Bridal Chorus.” It’s time!
“Okay,” Allison says. She gives me a thumbs up. “It’s all yours!”
I nod, and then the doors swoosh open. Everyone’s standing—oh, wow! There is a sea of people. I didn’t know that a crowd nearly three-hundred-strong looked so large.
Okay. Swallow. Smile. Breathe. And…walk.
Oh! There’s Conner. Still looking so handsome in his beach-sand-colored suit. And the bowties really look great on Conner and all the guys! Wow. And Daniel and George are actually standing up there, looking rather dapper. Chad’s even removed his lip ring, like I asked. Oh, and the girls! So beautiful…
I lock my eyes with Conner’s and can’t help myself from wanting to lean in and up for a kiss the moment I stand next to him.
The ceremony, much like that of the one in the park, seems to whizz by in a big blur, and I can’t really remember or concentrate on what the pastor says. I know that if it’s my cue to say “I do,” someone will nudge me out of my dreamlike state and tell me it’s my turn.
“The rings?”
the pastor asks, looking to Conner. I come to, tightly holding onto my bouquet.
“Oh,” Conner says, probably also off in la-la land like his fellow pea in the pod. “Right.”
I look around the stage, wondering where Schnickerdoodle is. I can’t spot him, so maybe he didn’t learn his trick after all. I look to Chad.
Then, a shrill whistle. It’s Conner. Then comes the light tinkle of bells, and I turn around to face the crowd. There’s Schnickerdoodle at the end of the aisle, trotting our way with a blue pillow tied to his back, bells ringing with each little trot of his.
The crowd gasps, and I can’t help but clasp a hand over my mouth and shriek in delight and surprise.
“You did it!” I say, briefly turning to Conner. He’s snapping his fingers and encouraging our pup to deliver the rings that are placed atop the pillow. “I can’t believe this!”
Schnickerdoodle climbs the stairs and stops right at our feet, smack-dab in between us. He takes a seat and looks up at Conner, who bends down to give him a treat after removing the rings.
The audience is still cooing, and I can’t get over how impressed I am not just that Schnicker completed the challenging task, but that Conner did this. He did this for me.
“Thank you,” I whisper as Conner hands the rings to the pastor. Chad bends down and scoops Schnicker up into his arms.
“Anything for you, Claire,” Conner says with a sideways smile.
“And now,” the pastor finally says. Conner puts his hands behind my head and leans in just as the pastor says, “You may now kiss your bride.”
The crowd erupts into a very loud cheer and clapping. The quartet strikes up with another round of “Bridal Chorus,” and Conner and I walk down the aisle, hand-in-hand, with Schnickerdoodle following eagerly right behind us.
“I love you, Claire,” Conner says, kissing me as we emerge through the church’s doors.
“I love you, Conner.”
Minutes later, accompanied by all the bridesmaids and groomsmen, Conner and I are calmly waiting in a corner of the church’s foyer, awaiting instruction on where the bridal party photos will be shot. I really can’t believe it’s over—the wedding ceremony, that is. It really did all happen in a flash, just like Mom said.
When Girlfriends Chase Dreams Page 37