Down the Aisle

by Christine Bell

  said them. But that long pause before she’d answered…That hesitation was killing him. Was that how things were going to be now? She wouldn’t talk to him, she didn’t seem to want him around, and the only time they’d slept together was when she’d been half in the bag.

  What was happening to them, and how the fuck was he going to stop it?

  …

  “Remind me next time to ask you if you have the air conditioning hooked up before I agree to help you with any more projects, bro,” Galen griped, taking a long pull off a sweaty bottle of water.

  It was a hellish ninety degrees outside and at least five degrees hotter in the bathroom where he and Shane were attempting to install a fancy, claw-foot tub that Cat had decided was a “must have.”

  “Sure. And the next time you need me to move a sectional, make sure to tell me that it’s going to be an all-day affair since your wife-to-be will want to see it in every imaginable position, in every possible room of the house, before having us put it back where it was to start with.”

  Galen couldn’t fault him there. That had totally happened a couple months back and the beer and burger he’d supplied hadn’t made up for the emotional trauma.

  He yanked the sweat-soaked t-shirt over his head and used it to wipe his face. “You think you’ll be ready to move in by fall?”

  Shane and Cat had picked a turn of the century fixer-upper since Cat had always wanted to live in a haunted house and Shane had always wanted to do whatever Cat wanted.

  “Hope so. I’m getting sick of driving all over town back and forth.” Shane bent low and started piping caulk around the drain of the tub. “Plus, I think I found a dog, and we need the space. It’s a golden retriever that lives next door to my parents. The people are getting too old to take care of him and are looking to find him a good home. Cat is talking about pot-bellied pigs, and there’s no way that’s going down. If I get a dog now, I’ll have squatter’s rights and she’ll back off.”

  The words “back” and “off” weren’t in his sister’s vocabulary, but he let his buddy hold onto the dream.

  “Any news on the baby front?” Shane asked, looking up from his finishing work.

  Galen hesitated and shook his head before taking another swallow of water. He’d considered telling Lacey this morning about the email he’d gotten the other day, but there were still a million things that could go wrong, and the look on her face when he’d come home from his jog had only cemented the fact that she couldn’t take another let down. At least this time, if it didn’t work out, it would only be his heartache.

  So it was back to the waiting game. It seemed like they were always waiting for something lately. Ovulation, a phone call, a letter, an interview. Every month, when his broken-hearted fiancée walked out of the bathroom with that look on her face, he wanted take her away from it all. To just be like fuck it and forget the whole thing. If he could be with her forever, he’d die a happy man. But he knew how badly she wanted a family, and if he was being honest with himself, he’d never imagined his life any other way. So they kept on keeping on. Even when shit got hard.

  “Nothing yet. I think she’s still caught up with what happened when Katya changed her mind.”

  That had been a rough one, too. So close, yet so far. It had been their first try at adopting. They felt like the gods were smiling down on them when they were picked by a teenage mom-to-be who was due to give birth in the spring. A week before her due date, she backed out, saying that she and the baby’s father were getting back together and had decided to raise the child themselves. Lacey had been inconsolable, and they had seriously considered pulling their name from the list. But in typical delicate-on-the-outside, steel-on-the-inside Lacey fashion, she rallied and a couple weeks later, she was back in the saddle.

  Still, he could see a hairline crack in that steel that hadn’t been there before, and a part of him wondered how many more blows she could take before she shattered. But maybe this time…

  He shut off the hopeful feeling blooming in his chest and stood abruptly. “It’ll be fine. We’ll get through it.”

  “Well, we’re all pulling for you,” Shane said, and then, clearly unsure of what to say next, promptly changed the subject to baseball.

  As they talked and tossed insults at one another’s favorite teams, Galen’s thoughts went back to Lacey. It had been so hard to leave her, but until she was willing to open up, there wasn’t much more he could do. Maybe she was right. With only a week until the wedding, things were getting hectic. After that, they’d have some uninterrupted time alone for their honeymoon. He pinched his eyes closed and pictured him and Lacey, arms wrapped around each other on the beach. When he opened them, he was resolved. She could hide her head in the sand now, but they’d find their way back to each other in the same place they’d started. Puerto Rico.

  And everything would be okay.

  It had to be.

  Chapter Four

  The rest of the week went by in a whirlwind, with one appointment after another. Last-minute fittings with Cat, who had designed and sewn her wedding gown, and then going over final guest lists and seating arrangements kept Lacey busy. Exactly the right amount of busy that she didn’t have time to think about that devastating phone call from Stella Martin or the near blowout with Galen afterward.

  Much.

  Except every time she laid eyes on him, she wanted to tell him. And every time they lay in bed at night, ignoring the elephant in the room, and she opened her mouth to do it, the words froze on her tongue. How could she break his heart just so hers didn’t have to be the only one breaking? Just a few more days. Once they got through today and the five days in Puerto Rico for their honeymoon, she’d tell him. She knew Galen better than she knew herself, and he wouldn’t be mad at her. He would only be sad that he hadn’t been able to share the pain and support her. It was exactly that sweet selflessness that made her keep her mouth shut. She was going to find a way to make this the best day of their lives in spite of the news hanging over her.

  “I forgot to ask you, how was The Admiral when you told her that you didn’t want to have the rehearsal dinner at the yacht club?” Cat asked, shoving another bobby pin into her hair and examining her work.

  Cat’s pet name for Lacey’s mother was an apt one, and she’d responded exactly as Lacey had expected her to. With disdain and annoyance. “About the same as she was when I told her we were having the wedding at your parents’ lake cottage.”

  Cat pulled the last of the pins from her pursed lips and let out a low whistle. “Well, she handled herself well last night. I saw her talk to three of my relatives and none of them left crying, so that was a bonus.”

  Actually, it had gone pretty smoothly, now that she thought about it. Even the fire Rowena had spit initially over the issue of where to have the wedding had seemed a little less passionate than usual. Sure, there were a few half-hearted insults about the “stock” Galen came from and her friend’s expecting better than some “crawdaddy shindig” at a “shack on a pond”, but it felt a little phoned in. Maybe it was resignation, or age, or maybe she was just tired from so many daughterly disappointments. Whatever it was, Lacey wasn’t about to complain.

  Cat turned her to face the three-way mirror and smiled. “You look like a motherfucking princess.”

  Lacey stared at her reflection and her eyes stung. This dress was everything her last dress hadn’t been. The other had been quiet, tasteful and sophisticated, just like her mother had wanted. This was celebration. The silvery-white lace fit her like a glove to the waist where a baby-blue sash sat, tied into a neat bow in back before the whole thing exploded into a princess ball gown with wads of tulle and sparkle. It was fabulous.

  “You are the best friend anyone could ever ask for,” she whispered.

  Cat sniffed suspiciously and turned away, muttering about allergies, which made Lacey smile. Cat had always been the tough one. The one she could count on to hold her up when she was falling.

&n
bsp; “We didn’t get picked.”

  The words were out before she could stop them, and Cat straightened, the question plain on her face.

  “For the baby. The girl Sarah we interviewed with.” She swallowed the lump in her throat and pressed on. “She picked another family.”

  “I’m so sorry, honey.” Cat held out her arms and Lacey stepped into them, letting her friend’s hug warm her from the inside out. It was such a relief to say the words out loud. Like maybe she could start to get past the disappointment now that she’d acknowledged it.

  “So what now?” Cat asked, plucking a tissue from the coffee table and handing it to Lacey.

  “Now I don’t know. I haven’t told your brother yet. I want to wait until after the honeymoon.” She dabbed at her eyes and forced a smile. “He’s going to say he’s fine because he won’t want me to feel worse, but it’s weighing on him, too, all this stuff.”

  Cat nodded. “I get that, and I don’t blame you for wanting to keep it quiet for a few more days, but don’t wait too long.”

  “I won’t. I just want him to enjoy this week without worrying about me.”

  “Okay.” Cat gave her a reassuring smile. “Now let’s get this show on the road. Fifteen minutes.” Cat hit her with one last blast of hairspray and slid the sheer veil over her face. “Yep. Perfect.”

  The two stood back and admired their handiwork, and Cat motioned for Lacey to spin in a circle. She must have passed muster because her friend’s eyes filled with tears.

  “Lace, seriously, you look—”

  A sharp knock sounded at the door. “Come in,” Lacey called.

  “Unless you’re Galen,” Cat yelled, dashing her hand across her eyes.

  The door swung open and The Admiral swept into the room. She looked fabulous. Her white-blonde hair was in a looser coif than the one she usually wore, and her ultra-slim, ramrod straight frame was accentuated by a fitted cream-colored suit that fit her like it had been sewn on by a team of captive birds. Too bad her face was far more wicked-stepsister than Cinderella.

  “Mary Catherine, give me a moment alone with my daughter.”

  Rowena didn’t wait for a response in spite of the fact that they were in Cat’s parents’ house and she was the one intruding. She just crossed the room and stood next to her daughter, waiting for her friend to leave. Cat’s face went flush, but she nodded and pasted on a smile that was more a baring of teeth. “Absolutely, ma’am.”

  Lacey gave her a grateful smile. “I’ll be out in a few minutes. Can you make sure Uncle Roscoe didn’t start eating the wedding cake?”

  “Yeah, sure thing,” Cat said, and headed out.

  “You look very nice today,” her mother said stiffly.

  High praise. It was a shock she managed to hold in her tears at this Hallmark moment. “Thanks, Mother.”

  “I wanted to speak with you about something, if you’ll permit me a minute or two.”

  Her wedding was scheduled to start down on the dock by the lake in fifteen minutes, but since her mother had made the effort, she wasn’t about to cut her off.

  “Sure, what is it?”

  “I just wanted you to know that…” She twisted her hands together in a nervous gesture that almost made Lacey feel sorry for her. She’d never seen her mother so ill at ease. Scratch that. She was never at ease. She was typically locked up tighter than Fort Knox, but she looked so anxious and out of her element. “I know I was never good at it. I’m fully aware of that, you know.”

  “What are we talking about here, Mother?” Lacey asked carefully. She gently took Rowena’s arm and led her to a small velvet settee in the corner, where she sank down gracefully and crossed her legs. Lacey pushed the bulky dress to one side and sat across from her.

  “Parenting. Motherhood. I sucked at it.” She let out a short, bitter laugh. “I remember the day I brought you home. You cried, and I gave you a bottle of formula. Once you finished eating, I burped you. Would you believe that was what I was good at? You let out a belch that shook the walls.” Her steely gray eyes shimmered with tears and Lacey felt the same filling her own. Her mother. The Admiral. Crying?

  “My first thought was, ‘Look at me. A natural. I’m succeeding at this, like I do at everything else.’ And then you started to scream.” Her lip curled in distaste, and Lacey’s tears dried. “You squalled for three straight months, and I swear, I thought I would go crazy. Your father took over, and he was so good at it. He never got angry or upset. He just walked you around in circles, for hours some nights, until you stopped. I didn’t have the patience for it. I knew then that I’d made a mistake.”

  Shocking that after all these years of subtle—and not so subtle—jabs that they could still hurt, but damn it, they did. Lacey shifted in her seat and tried instead to picture Galen’s face when he saw her. He’d be so happy, and they would exchange their vows, and they would—

  “Not for having you. But for thinking I’d know what to do with you.” Her mother leaned forward and reached out to take her hand. Lacey pulled away instinctively. All her life, whenever she’d gone to Rowena for comfort when she was hurt or sad, her mother invariably drew back. Any contact was incidental or forced when they were in public. This time, though, Rowena held firm.

  “I want to apologize to you.”

  Lacey stared at her mother, her brain buzzing a thousand miles a minute. Apologize? Apparently it would be a day of firsts. Unless of course this was a typical backhanded insult thinly veiled by the “apology.”

  “I failed you. I made a choice to have you; you never chose me. And I failed you.” Her slim fingers crushed Lacey’s and her thin upper lip trembled. “I would do just about anything to fix it. The part that’s broken in me. But it’s too late for that. You’re grown now, and I was too stubborn to change when it would have mattered for you.”

  Lacey wanted to say something. To tell her that it still mattered. That it would always matter. If she could have some kind of relationship with her mother, it would fill a huge hole that had been present in her life for so long. But she couldn’t say the words. Maybe Rowena was right. Maybe it was too late. She stayed silent, and her mother’s sad but accepting gaze flickered away from her own.

  “I have to live with that. And frankly, that’s not why I wanted to speak with you. I just wanted to tell you on your wedding day that I’m proud of you. And that you’re nothing like me. If you decide that you want to be a mother one day, I didn’t want me to be the reason you didn’t do it. I didn’t want you to look at me, and our relationship, and promise yourself you would never…” She paused and cleared her throat before she continued. “That you would never do that to a child, you needn’t worry. You don’t have it in you. You’re loving and sweet and selfless, just like your father.” She squeezed Lacey’s hand again and then rose. “I know deep in my tiny old heart that you will be a wonderful wife and an even better mother. And if you give me half the chance, I think I could whip myself into good enough shape to be a half-way passing grandmother, as well.”

  Lacey kept her gaze locked on the gleaming pine floor, afraid if she looked up, she might burst into tears and undo two hours of makeup and hair.

  “I’ll let myself out. And you fix your rouge and maybe reconsider that garish shade of lip gloss, hmmm?”

  With that, Rowena strode from the room and closed the door behind her. Lacey stayed seated for a long time, replaying the world’s weirdest mother-daughter wedding speech of all time in her head. She’d never confided in her mother about her problems conceiving or even that she and Galen wanted to start a family right away. They didn’t have that kind of relationship, and her mother would have been horrified if she’d known that Lacey’s fertility issues meant that time was of the essence, and they’d had to start trying before they even got married. So to have her come forward now and give her blessing for a baby that Lacey might never be able to have, after being so vocal about her disapproval of…well, everything else in her life, it was bittersweet. In baseball
terms, it was much more like hitting a single than a grand slam, but compared to where they’d started, she’d take it. Maybe, in the years to come, they could build on this small but seemingly heartfelt attempt at connecting and make something worth having one day. Lacey sniffed and patted a tissue on the corners of her eyes.

  Ironic, though, that it only added to the feeling that today, on what should be the happiest day of her life, she was a total failure. She was failing Galen. Now, she was even failing her mother.

  All the emotions she’d managed to keep in bubbled to the surface, and she sobbed like her heart was breaking.

  …

  Galen stood with Shane by his side, staring impatiently at the pathway, shifting from foot to foot. The wedding march had been playing for longer than he’d expected, and frankly, he was getting a little nervous.

  Then, there she was. His beautiful bride wrapped in white lace, on her father’s arm, weaving their way toward where he stood on the dock. The crowd turned in their little white chairs, whispering and snapping pictures. It was a surreal moment for him as he met her bourbon colored eyes through her veil. She was still fifteen feet away, and he wanted to run over, scoop her up, and carry her the rest of the distance because he literally couldn’t wait to slip that ring on her finger. She was his. He was hers.

  He’d taken a dozen blows to the face from Manny Hermosa in a heavyweight title fight and hadn’t shed a tear, but now, his eyes burned and his vision went a little blurry. Lacey Garrity had laid him down for the count, and he loved her like crazy.

  Finally, she was standing there, staring up at him, and his whole world felt right. Her father released her arm and took his seat, and Galen took her hand in his. The minister spoke.

  “Dearly beloved…”

  The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and all he could think of was the crumpled piece of paper in his pocket. He hoped he’d managed to get it right.

  “Lacey would like to say something to you, Galen.”

  He squeezed her hand and let it go so she could get her piece of paper, but she didn’t have one. Instead, she met his eyes through the thin, transparent veil.

  “Galen, before I met you, I was afraid. All the time, of everything. I didn’t want to run because I was afraid to fall. I didn’t want to reach for my dreams because I was afraid to fail. I didn’t want to fall in love because I was afraid to get hurt. And then there was you. And you pushed me to do all things I was scared to do. And when I fell, you were there to pick me up. And when I went for my dreams, you supported me and cheered me on.” She gripped his hand tightly and her voice went thick. “You are my rock and my roll. My safety net and my high wire. I love you now and will love you forever, with all of my heart.”

  Her words rocked him back on his heels, and he had to swallow the lump in his throat before he could even look at her again. He hadn’t realized how badly he’d needed to hear those words after the past few months. It was like being woken up from a bad dream.

  “Galen?” The minister said, urging him to begin with a gentle smile.

  He cleared his throat and pulled out the vows he’d written, not surprised at all to see his hands were shaking. “When I was a little boy, all I ever wanted was this set of walkie talkies that Micky Adler had. They were black and silver, with all these cool buttons, and they were huge, like two bricks. You’d hold them to your ear and sometimes they were even clear enough that you could hear what the other person was saying. I dreamt about them. I thought about them every waking second. And, after six months of hard wishing, my mom and dad bought them for me for Christmas. It was the happiest day of my life. Until now.”

  There were some chuckles, but Lacey’s eyes filled with unshed tears that made his heart kick. “Lacey, you are everything I’ve ever dreamed of and everything I was too stupid to even dream of.” Her cold hand gripped his tighter, and he gave it a re-assuring squeeze. “I still can’t believe I got you. It’s better than Christmas. Better than New Year’s, or my birthday. It’s a wish come true. I can’t wait to see our lives unfold together. To watch our children, the ones we make or the ones we’re honored enough to choose, grow and learn. To—”

  Lacey’s lips quivered, her smile crumpled, and his world shook. “I- I can’t do this,” she whispered, a wild light in her eyes. And then…she ran.

  He stared after her for a long moment, dumbfounded. What the fuck had just happened?

  “Not again,” Lacey’s Aunt Charise muttered.

  Cat silenced her with a death stare before stepping up to the altar. Lucky thing, because Galen was frozen to the spot and his brain was melting down. What did she mean, she couldn’t?

  “Ladies and gentleman,” his sister said smoothly, taking his arm and leading him off the dock. “Please help yourself to more hors d’oeuvres in the tents behind you while Galen and his bride have a little chat. I’m sure you all agree, this heat can make you say some crazy things, am I right?”

  The guests mumbled to each other and seemed at a loss but eventually stood and picked their way over to the tents.

  “Go get her,” Cat hissed.

  He nodded, on autopilot, and started toward the house. He’d hoped his reassurance that they would have a family, come hell or high water, would have made her feel better, but clearly that wasn’t the case. What if she’d left for real? What if she really didn’t want to marry him anymore? His stomach turned, and he shoved the idea away, focusing instead on the ground in front of him. The smooth, worn wooden path leading to the light blue saltbox he’d spent most of his summers in.

  Summers with Lacey.

  Jesus, what would he do without her?

  He pushed open the door to his parent’s cottage and made his way up the steps, praying with every one that she was there. That she was waiting to talk to him and hadn’t taken off for good. The bathroom door was closed, and the sight made his whole body shake with relief. They always left it open, so someone was in there.

  He approached the door, fist extended to knock, when he heard it. His beautiful wife-to-be, crying. Not a good, “I’m emotional because I’m getting married” kind of cry. This was heartbreak, and his stomach clenched just hearing it. His first instinct was to kick the fucking door open and put whoever was responsible flat on their back, but he stopped himself at the last second. Clearly it was him. That’s why she’d run away. But surely the fact that she stayed meant something?

  He swallowed the bile that burned his throat and replayed the last few days in his head. What had he done to hurt her so badly? She’d been pretty distant, but damn it, he’d tried. Maybe he hadn’t tried hard enough.

  Maybe giving her space had made her think he didn’t care? God, they were partners, and he’d failed her before they even made it official. Maybe she was afraid that was a bad omen for the rest of their lives together.

  He raised his fist and knocked on the door.

  A hiccup, the honking of a blown nose, and then a soft voice. “Who is it?”