A Bride To Honor

by Arlene James

  William preened self-importantly. “Of course.”

  “It wouldn’t hurt to have a girl or two in the background,” Cassidy said.

  “I’ll see to it,” William promised.

  That settled, Cassidy called Paul and William aside and put everyone else to reading over the script. To Paul she explained the dilemma that she and William had been so ardently discussing during his arrival. “William thinks a theater in the round approach would be most interesting, but as a ball includes dancing, and dancing requires a good deal of room, I wonder if it wouldn’t be better to stage the drama against the far wall there.”

  Paul studied the enormous room, wondering aloud how the caterer could most easily enter and exit and where the orchestra that Betina had hired would best be placed. After only a few minutes of discussion, he decided that Cassie’s idea was most easily workable. A stage would be built against the far wall, with tables and chairs set up before it. The dance floor would be laid on the other side of the tables and chairs, with the orchestra pit built against the opposite wall. The caterer could set up buffet lines at either end.

  Betina had said something about draping the entire interior of the building in white, but Paul wondered aloud if circus stripes or an old-fashioned county fair look might not be more in keeping with their theme. William argued vociferously for Betina’s vision in white, but Cassidy agreed with Paul that stripes or bright blocks of color would be more in keeping with their turn-of the-century theme. William feared that it might not be politic to deny Betina her preference, to which argument Paul snapped, “I might have to marry the woman, but I don’t have to indulge her every whim! Everyone might as well understand that now!”

  William looked shocked, but then he turned a fulminating stare on Cassidy, as if he blamed her for Paul’s attitude. Cassidy felt both uncomfortable and unfairly persecuted. It wasn’t her fault that Paul could not seem to get along with Betina. She wished suddenly that Paul hadn’t fallen in so completely with her ideas. William was already suspicious. She remembered the kiss they’d shared on the sidewalk outside her shop only days earlier, and imagined what might have happened if William had come upon them during that time. She shuddered to think what he might have said or done. She had no doubt that she would have caught the brunt of it.

  Pushing such unpleasant thoughts out of mind, Cassidy suggested that they get on to assigning parts for the drama. As the script contained few spoken lines, the issue of who should play whom became more one of type and appearance than acting ability. The roles, therefore, were relatively easy to assign, which led rather quickly to a confusing discussion of staging. Paul called a halt by announcing firmly that Cassidy would decide such issues and inform everyone else of them. Period. With that all eyes turned to her.

  Self-consciously, Cassidy set about directing the setup of an approximation of the first scene, that of Paul’s great-grandparents’ kitchen. Not much guesswork was involved here as they had the photo to guide them. So, using an old metal table, some boxes and a three-legged desk, they quickly set up a practice space. Cassidy herself read the direction she and William had written out by hand and his secretary had typed. Then she relinquished her script to William and, together with Paul, set about fitting action to narration.

  It was laughably easy. Andy quickly picked up on the right pacing and elocution to make the narration work, and as for Paul and Cassidy, they might have been thinking with one mind, so completely did their actions, mannerisms and expressions mesh. When Andy spoke about the newlywed Barclays’ decision to quit their jobs—he as a baker, she as a pastry glazer—in order to sell baked goods based on Theo’s own recipes out of their own kitchen, the script called for “Jane” and “Theo” to clasp hands and look into each other’s eyes. Paul and Cassidy did that, but then Paul quite naturally reached out and slipped his arm about Cassidy’s shoulders, pulling her to him in a gesture of reassurance, creating a particularly poignant moment. Those watching applauded, everyone but William, who tried to hide his frown with a prolonged study of the script. All too aware of William’s displeasure and the raptness of their audience, Cassidy quickly pulled away, but physical distance did little to still the pounding of her heart or dull the sharpness of her yearning for a reality based upon what was pure pretense.

  Thankfully, Tony provided distraction. Putting his head together with that of another student, he had come up with an idea for staging that was both workable and efficient. After much discussion and description, they devised a plan for three separate sets, each accommodating two scenes with only minor changes. To save themselves the expense and difficulty of constructing a massive curtain, they hit upon the idea of building the sets behind scrims, which would then be backlit and essentially rendered invisible. Tony even promised to look into the possibility of borrowing the fabric screens from the university.

  All in all, it was a productive first “rehearsal,” and everyone left encouraged. But when Paul quietly urged Cassidy to allow him to take her for coffee or even a late supper, she felt that she had to decline, as it was evident to her that William was hanging around to ensure that just such a thing did not happen. Paul whispered that he’d call her later, brushed a kiss across her cheek and handed her into her car with a reluctant smile.

  William sauntered over to speak to Cassidy, blatantly making certain that she was going straight home...alone. Cassidy did just that, and along the way, puttering patiently in her little car, she made an unsurprising discovery about herself. She wasn’t cut out for conducting clandestine affairs, however innocent, and neither, apparently, was Paul. She accepted the depressing conclusion that her relationship with Paul would have to be redefined, and she was determined to broach the subject openly when he called.

  But Paul did not call. Instead he showed up around ten o’clock, agitated and nervous, his hair still wet from a recent shower. He was wearing dark, relaxed-fit jeans, white leather athletic shoes, and a bloodred T-shirt beneath a blue plaid, flannel shirt, which had been left unbuttoned with the tail hanging out. He came right in, took a seat in the center of her couch and said, “We have to talk.”

  “Yes, I agree,” she told him, dropping down into the arm chair. Before she could say more, he was off and running with an amazing proclamation.

  “I’m sorry, Cass, but I’m just not hypocrite enough to pretend that I’m not crazy about you. I’m still a free man, and as long as I am, I want to be with you.”

  Cassidy was momentarily dumbfounded, but at length she found the presence of mind to ask, “Paul, is that really possible? What about Betina? Won’t she be offended if you’re seen too often in my company?”

  He pushed both hands over his face and hair, saying, “I don’t know, Cass. I don’t honestly care.”

  She didn’t know what to say to that, for it didn’t really change anything if she understood the problem correctly. Perhaps that was where she ought to start, understanding the problem. She screwed up her courage and said, “Paul, do you really have to marry her?”

  For a long, agonizing moment, Paul said nothing, merely sat and stared at his hands. And then, quite strongly, he said, “Yes.”

  Disappointment came like a blow to Cassidy. She bit her lip and looked away, seeking to disguise the tears gathering in her eyes.

  Paul sighed deeply. “I just can’t see any other way. She has the upper hand, and she’s made it plain what she wants. The only way that I can secure the business and ensure the entire family’s income is to give her what she wants, though why she’d want to be married to me when she knows how I feel about her, I can’t begin to understand.”

  Cassidy smiled wistfully. “I know you believe that being a legitimate part of the family is driving this obsession of hers, but Paul, I can’t help thinking that she has to be in love with you.”

  He shook his head. “That’s because you could never understand a person like her. Cass, I don’t honestly think Betina is capable of loving anyone, not even herself.”

  Cassidy
shuddered. She contemplated a long time before asking her next question. “I don’t suppose she’ll settle for a marriage in name only?”

  “She’ll have to,” he said daddy. “She’s quite confident that she can change my mind once we’re legally married, but I have to tell you that I cannot imagine making love to that...that soulless, calculating—”

  But you did before! Cassidy found herself thinking. She felt a surprising amount of resentment about it, too—as if she had any right! She took a deep breath, steeling herself for what she had to say next. “Paul, you have to know that my brother is very disturbed by our... involvement. I don’t—”

  “Your brother,” he interrupted hotly, “had best watch his step around me. I don’t like the way he browbeats you! What right does he have to judge you, anyway?”

  Cassidy was touched by his defense of her. She was a little miffed with William herself, but she wasn’t exactly conducting herself in an inspiringly sensible manner just now. She smiled wanly and inclined her head. “Does your family hold no claim on your behavior and consideration then, Paul?”

  He quite visibly blanched. After a protracted silence, he answered miserably. “You know they do.”

  She knew all too well, of course. She looked away, blinking back tears. “I just don’t see any way that we can really be together, Paul, not even for a short while.”

  He slid right to the edge of the couch and leaned toward her, capturing her gaze and holding it intently. “Sweetheart, just the other day you asked me not to allow myself to become engaged to Betina until after New Year’s. Are you saying now that you’ve changed your mind about that?”

  Cassidy stared in dismay. If she said that she had changed her mind, would he go out and fix it with Betina? She couldn’t quite bear the thought. And yet, neither of them were very good at pretending to be casual friends. What should she say then? Quite without meaning to, she shook her head, and he took that as the truth that it was. He came right off the couch and knelt before her, his large, strong hands covering her knees.

  “Do you still mean to help me with the ball?”

  She was a bit startled by the idea that he would think she might abandon him when he so obviously needed her. “Of course!”

  It was obviously the answer that he expected. “Then we’ll be together at times.”

  “Yes. So?”

  “Cass, I can’t be with you without being happy about it,” he said. “Touching you is the most natural thing I’ve ever done. I can’t seem not to. When you’re near I have the most wonderful feeling that all is well, that life is good. When I walk into your shop or your home or even a great, ugly barn of a building and find you there, it becomes the most comfortable, welcoming place I can think of. I can’t seem to hide those feelings, and I don’t want to. But I don’t want to hurt you, either. I don’t want to embarrass or shame you—”

  “Oh, no, Paul, don’t ever think that! I am not ashamed. I’ve done nothing to be ashamed of and neither have you. It’s only that...William has never understood me.”

  “William’s an idiot.”

  “William has his faults,” she qualified, “but he’s not an idiot. He knows we’re...something more than friends. It must seem terribly foolish to him, and he’s obviously concerned for both of us.”

  “And himself, no doubt,” Paul added cryptically.

  She wouldn’t bother confirming that assertion. It didn’t seem to matter what William thought, anyway. Nothing seemed to matter but Paul. God help her. “Don’t worry about William,” she said. “I’ve dealt with William all my life.”

  He reached up and stroked her cheek, making no promises, but then she expected none. “Where does that leave us then, Cass?”

  She shook her head, but she was smiling. She felt the most wonderful helplessness. “Right here, I suppose,” she said.

  He laid his palm alongside her face and tilted his head. “I’m sorry, love.”

  “For what?”

  He sighed. “For finding you when it was too late. For being so stupid as to let myself be trapped by my stepcousin. For not being able to control my feelings somehow.”

  She laughed at that, very lightly, almost soundlessly. “The timing and the feelings belong to both of us,” she pointed out, “and you are trapped because you are an honorable man who will not shirk his responsibilities. I don’t see reason for apology in that.”

  “You wouldn’t,” he whispered, “not my Cassidy.”

  His Cassidy. She wasn’t, of course, and yet paradoxically she was. She turned her head slightly and kissed his palm. Sighing, he closed his eyes and sank down, laying his head on her lap. She stroked his temple with her fingertips. Slowly but deliberately his hand skimmed downward and came to rest against her breast, fingers spreading wide to encompass it. He turned his face into her lap and slid his other hand up the outside of her thigh.

  She put her head back and closed her eyes, her heart thudding with such force that each beat seemed to reverberate along every nerve ending, and yet she felt an almost paralyzing languor. For a long while, they stayed just as they were. And then his hand seemed to convulse and tighten over her breast. A streak of desire as hot as lightning flashed through her.

  He lifted his head, straightened and removed his hand in one fluid movement. Sitting back on his heels, he said, “I’d better go.”

  She nodded, knowing that if he stayed they ran the risk of giving in to desires better left unexplored under the circumstances. Yet nodding, rising, and following him to the door were the most difficult operations she had ever executed. She felt as though she were wading through chest-deep water. He paused in the open doorway and glanced over his shoulder, then turned to face her.

  “Have I told you that I love this room?”

  She followed his gaze with her own, looking around at the cranberry red walls and gold moldings, the fringe on the valances and throw pillows, the purples and maroons in the eclectic patterns of the furnishings, the moss green background in the ornately patterned rug. She smiled. “No, I don’t think you have.”

  “It’s so warm, passionate, almost decadent...and imaginative. Unique. Very you.”

  She laughed at that. He leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the mouth.

  “Bye.”

  She watched him all the way down the walk to his car, then lifted her hand and returned his wave before closing the door and locking it. She switched off the light and wandered blindly into the hall, where a nightlight in the shape of a Cupid with drawn bow lit the doorway to her bedroom. Sunshine lay on a rug just inside the door, snoozing peacefully. Cassidy bent and scratched her head until the cat stretched and yawned and allowed herself to be scooped up.

  “Sorry, chum,” Cassidy told her, “but I feel the need of a little company.” She scratched the cat beneath the chin, murmuring softly, “And I always will. I’m very much afraid that I always will.”

  Chapter Six

  She ran from the parking lot, squeezed through the opening someone had made by rolling back the heavy corrugated metal door on the side of the factory and was greeted by exclamations of relief. Paul hurried forward to receive her. “Thank God!” He threw an arm about her shoulders and ushered her into the center of the group. “I was worried about you. It isn’t like you to be late.”

  “You’ve kept everyone waiting!” William snapped, frowning at the way Paul kept his arm draped about her.

  She sidled away from Paul. “Sorry. I had a meeting with a wig salesman, and it took longer than I’d planned. Then there was a wreck on Central.”

  “You should have known better than to come up Central,” William scolded.

  Paul quickened, his hands going to his waist. “What’s your problem, Penno? Just get off her back.”

  Cassidy laid a calming hand on his upper arm, saying, “Let’s not spend any more time on this. We have work to do.”

  Paul relaxed his posture and stepped back. William frowned and said nothing, his gaze troubled. Cassidy felt a flash
of sympathy for her poor brother. No doubt he felt himself very betrayed by his foolish baby sister, but despite nights and days of anxious, confused, even prayerful study, she could find no way to relieve either William’s fears or her own. Facts were facts. She was in love with a man who would shortly marry someone else and be forever out of her reach. Given that unchangeable future, she would be wise to end her association with Paul now. But she couldn’t do it. She simply could not walk away from him now, and she could only hope that she would find the strength necessary to do so in the future. Otherwise, poor William was going to find himself brother to a married man’s mistress.

  Every time the phrase materialized in her mind, she felt the shock of it again, and she knew that it was a possibility she had been considering, if only subconsciously. It seemed to her the saddest thing imaginable—until she imagined a future completely devoid of Paul Barclay Spencer. She simply couldn’t think of it anymore, giving herself over gratefully to the more urgent matters at hand.

  With a cool efficiency born of sheer relief and utter necessity, she swiftly organized the practice and put it into motion. All went smoothly, despite the many claims on her attention. William demanded final decisions concerning the design and construction of the stages and sets. A petite brunette by the name of Celeste insisted on giving Cassidy a detailed explanation of her lighting designs, while a redhead named Robert made a pitch for plexiglass panels suspended overhead as a means of improving sound quality. Two hours and eighteen minutes after arriving, Cassidy called a halt, pleased with the progress they’d made but mindful of the distance they had left to go.

  The group began to break up, some bolting for the door and others lingering to chat among themselves. Only then did Cassidy let up enough to realize that her head had begun pounding, so much so that her first inclination when Tony made a bid for her attention was to head for the door herself. But she worked with Tony, and he was wearing that pouty look of his because she had already put him off a couple times. She smiled and tried to concentrate.