by Beth K. Vogt
So she’d opted for a walk. Hoping that as she braved the cold, the wind, the light snow, she would stop thinking of all she’d lost. Stop wondering what happened next.
She’d pretend she had Mrs. Wright’s faith in God—although that kind of strength, of conviction, came with years of choosing to say, “Okay, God, you are who you say you are.” Maybe she could pretend to be like Mrs. Wright’s daughter. If all she had was the figment of a desire to trust God . . . well, that was a start.
I’m floundering, God, but I’m trusting you. I believe, no matter what, you know what you’re doing. You promise to be the stability of my times—no matter how badly life spins out of control.
She’d prayed that prayer over and over since November. Her journal was filled with letters to God. She would trust him, cling to that truth, no matter how confused she felt. How alone.
When her iPhone buzzed, she debated ignoring it. But what if it was work calling to ask her to cover someone’s shift? An escape from monotony and sitting on the edge of the Pit of Despair. It was somewhat funny in the movie The Princess Bride. In real life? Not at all.
Her phone buzzed again. Hmmm. It was the same number that had appeared on her phone several times in the last eight weeks—one she didn’t recognize.
“Hello?”
“Ms. Hollister?”
Sounded like a telemarketer. Vanessa positioned her thumb over the end button. “Yes?”
“This is the wedding coordinator at the Henderson Park Inn. I’m calling because we desperately need to finalize your destination wedding plans for next month—”
The iPhone almost slipped from Vanessa’s grasp. “W-what did you just say?”
“Your wedding? Scheduled for April third? It’s a month away, and I’ve called and emailed you several times to finalize the details—”
Vanessa stopped in the middle of the path. “I canceled the wedding months ago. I sent an email to your assistant. And besides—I really only wanted to be penciled in—”
“Ms. Hollister—”
“Vanessa, please.”
“Vanessa, I assure you that we never received an email from you. If we had, you would have received a phone call from either my assistant or me explaining that we don’t do cancellations via email.” The coordinator kept her voice calm—almost soothing. She was good at her job. “Both the Internet and phone service are unreliable on the island—so we prefer to discuss things over the phone. That way if we do get disconnected, we can just redial and continue the conversation. A lost email, well, it’s just lost.”
Vanessa bent over double, one arm wrapped around her waist. The woman was stating facts—stating the obvious—and pulling her into a destination-wedding debacle, word by word.
“But I’m not getting married.” She stood again, sucking in a deep breath of Colorado winter. “I ended the engagement months ago, back in November.”
Silence echoed back to her. Well, the woman had surprised her—it was only fair she also had a chance to shock the wedding coordinator.
“I’m so sorry to hear that. I truly am, Vanessa. But—”
Vanessa moved off the path over to a wooden park bench and sat down, staring out at the partially frozen lake. She knew how the rest of the conversation would go. “But . . . that doesn’t change anything, does it?”
“No. I’m so sorry, but it doesn’t.”
“What are you saying, exactly?”
“You put a deposit down on a wedding ceremony for April third at the inn. You even wrote down some basic ideas—what package you wanted. Flowers. Your cake. Music. I contacted vendors based on those details—and those vendors have to be paid in full up front. At this late date, I cannot refund your money—for any of the wedding costs.”
Vanessa covered her face with her hand, her fingers cold against her skin. “No . . . please, can’t we work something out? Isn’t there some other bride and groom who want to get married at the inn?”
“Vanessa, we do one wedding per day at the inn. I’m certain it was explained to you that April through October is prime season for us. We’ve told everyone who has called that this date is unavailable.”
Vanessa inhaled a breath of air that seemed to freeze her lungs.
“I understand.” She pressed her hand to her mouth, her fingers chapped. “What happens now?”
“I need to get payment for the balance.”
“Fine.”
“But it appears that credit card has expired.”
Of course it had.
“I’m sorry. I’m not home at the moment—I’m out for a walk. I can be home in less than an hour. I’ll call you back. Is that okay?”
“Yes. That’s fine.”
“I will call back.”
“Vanessa—it’s fine. I believe you. And again, I’m sorry—about everything. I wish there was something I could do to help you.”
• • •
For all the times she never called Mindy in the past, now she had a definite reason to pick up the phone.
Or she could post something on Facebook.
Hey, Mindy! Guess what? You know how Logan told me in the airport that he loved me and wanted to remarry me but I turned him down because I was engaged? And then Ted broke up with me and I canceled my destination wedding on the beach? Well, the crazy mess gets crazier. Turns out I didn’t cancel the Florida destination wedding. The show will go on—and be paid for—without a bride and groom.
Yeah, it was a little long-winded for a standard Facebook post, but without a doubt, people would click on “read more” . . . and who knew how many comments that post would generate?
Vanessa drained another can of Coke into a glass filled with ice and a slice of lemon and set the can in a line with the other—she stopped to count—one, two, three, four, five, six soda cans. With that much caffeine flowing in her veins she’d be up all night, and probably tomorrow night, too.
At least the barricade of red aluminum cans hid her laptop screen from view—and her charge card statement, complete with the addition of the balance for her wedding. She’d found the emails from the inn’s wedding coordinator lurking in her spam folder.
Her wedding.
God, what are you doing here? How is this “being my stability”? My finances just careened into the red zone, crashing through every smart money decision I’ve ever made!
She bolted upright when her iPhone rang, toppling the soda cans like dominos as she grabbed it off the coffee table.
“Mindy?”
“Yes—hello to you, too—”
“Mindy—the wedding is still on!”
“You got back with Ted?” Mindy sounded as shocked as if Vanessa had told her that she was marrying an alien.
“No—not Ted—”
“Oh, thank God! I knew you and Logan would figure everything out—”
“I’m not marrying Logan, either. I’m not marrying anyone.”
“Vanessa, you are talking to a sleep-deprived mother-to-be. I can’t see my feet anymore. My back hurts. I think I am truly going to be pregnant forever. Forever. Why are you calling and making me crazy?”
Vanessa didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “First off, my friend, you need to have this baby already, because you called me. Let me begin again. I got a call from the wedding planner at the Henderson Park Inn. They never got my email canceling the wedding—so they didn’t cancel it.”
“Nooooo.”
“Yes. She wanted to finalize plans. And as nice as she was, as sympathetic as she was, the reality is I am paying thousands of dollars for a wedding that no one will be attending. No bride. No groom. No guests . . . nothing.”
“Vanessa, come on, surely she could understand—”
“Believe me, I tried having that conversation with her. Need I remind you that I couldn’t just have them pencil me in? I paid a deposit. I even talked out ideas with the assistant—you know, just dreaming out loud. They went ahead with those ideas. Vendors have been paid in full. The wedding, so it seems,
is going on without me—quite literally.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Me? I am going to be paying off my credit card for the next several years. Putting off going back to school, that’s for sure.”
“What can I do, Vanessa?”
“Pray for me, Mindy. I can’t seem to find the strength to pray for myself.” Vanessa stopped when her voice cracked. “I keep telling God I trust him. I want to trust him. But why, when it comes to marriage, does God keep messing with me? Why does he keep saying no—and then doing something like this? It’s just cruel!”
“God didn’t do this—”
“He allowed it!”
“Free will, Vanessa. Free will. Don’t go blaming God for—”
Vanessa waited for Mindy to say more, but she’d gone silent on her.
“Go on.”
“No, I don’t want to do this now—”
“Mindy, you’re my best friend. Go ahead. You’ve earned the right to let me have it.”
“All I’m saying is we blame God for hurts we bring on ourselves. Yes, God is sovereign over the world—but he gives us free will. You and Logan made choices back when you were in college—and you broke each other’s hearts.”
“We did, didn’t we?” Why did the admission cause an ache in her heart all these years later? “And then Ted and I made choices—”
“The hard, right thing to do, yes. I’ve always wished you and Logan could have figured out a way to make things work.” Mindy groaned. “Sorry. Just trying to find a comfortable position. You want me to try to talk to the woman at the Henderson Park Inn?”
“No. You’re a mama-to-be—and you were relieved of matron-of-honor duty months ago. But thanks for listening.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I know you are.” Vanessa stretched out on her couch. She did not want to talk about her mess of a wedding anymore. “Enough about me. When does the doctor think that baby’s going to arrive?”
“Not soon enough—and no matter how often I ask, he won’t induce me.”
“Mindy, doctors don’t induce you just because you want them to.”
“I’m miserable . . . which means Jett’s miserable . . . it would be a ‘mercy induction’ . . .”
“Oh, yeah, tell the doctor that.”
“It won’t change his mind, Vanessa.”
“No, but you’ll make him laugh—and that would be worth it.”
“It’s very risky to laugh at a pregnant woman. You don’t want to tick us off—and my water could break all over his exam room.”
“But that would be a good thing, right?” Once again, talking to Mindy had lightened Vanessa’s spirits. “Will you call me when you go into labor?”
“Sure. Anytime?”
“Yes. I want to know.”
“All right, Aunt Vanessa. You’re on the will-call list.”
THIRTY-ONE
To win you have to risk loss.
—JEAN-CLAUDE KILLY (1943– ), FORMER FRENCH ALPINE WORLD CUP SKIER
“I’m awake! I’m awake!”
Logan sat up and almost fell off the couch trying to prove he wasn’t asleep. He braced his hands on the edge of the couch, planting his bare feet on the carpeted floor.
What time was it?
Lights were on all over the house. Living room, kitchen, down the hall, and even in the bedroom—where he should have been sleeping. The TV, tuned to the Weather Channel, highlighted rain for the West Coast.
He rubbed his hands over his face. He needed a shave—he needed a shave three days ago.
Wait . . . what had woken him up?
Just then his cell phone rang again, and he lunged across the room, grabbing it off the top of his desk.
“Hello?”
“Logan?”
“Yes. Who’s this?”
“It’s Mindy—Mindy Williams in Florida. Did I wake you up?”
“As a matter of fact, yes, you did.”
“Good.”
“Apology accept— What?”
“I said good—I’m glad I hauled your backside out of bed.” The woman sounded ready to unleash a maniacal laugh. “And it’s also a good thing you live in Oklahoma, or I might come over there and knock some sense into you.”
Logan looked at the phone screen. “Are you sure this is Mindy—the girl I knew in high school—and not some hired thug?”
“I’m a pregnant woman who isn’t sleeping at night—it’s almost as bad.” Mindy took a deep breath, and Logan braced for another outburst. “Logan Hollister, what is wrong with you?”
“I have a feeling you’re going to answer that question for me.”
“What gives you the right to break my best friend’s heart not once, but twice?”
Mindy’s question jolted the last bit of sleep from his system. “Look, I don’t know what Vanessa told you, but I admit I got a little out of line when I saw her in Florida—”
“A little out of line? You told her you still loved her!”
Logan braced his forehead on the palm of his hand. “Fine . . . I told her I still loved her—and she stonewalled me, reminding me that she was engaged. I had no right to tell Vanessa how I felt about her when she was marrying that other guy. I was wrong.”
“Who told you that?”
“My friend Max. And he was right. It wasn’t the honorable thing to do.”
“What would you say—what would you do—if I told you that Ted broke their engagement?”
“Why would he do that?”
“Apparently because Vanessa convinced him to.”
“Mindy . . .” This conversation was some sort of crazy verbal trapeze act, swinging him back and forth, up and down. Logan forced himself to say the right thing. “Why aren’t you calling her and telling her to work things out with Ted?”
“Do you hear yourself, Logan? Is that what you really want?”
No.
“What do you think I should do?”
“Believe it or not, I didn’t call you to harass you or to verbally beat you up. I called because I know you love Vanessa—you’ve loved her since high school.”
“I do.” The admission came out as half groan. “But fixing this isn’t going to be easy.”
“Welcome to a relationship, Logan. You think you and Vanessa are different from everyone else? Weren’t you listening in English class when we read Shakespeare? ‘The course of true love never did run smooth.’ ”
“I didn’t take Honors English.”
“No excuse. You told Vanessa that you never stopped loving her. Even when she told you no, there was a little part of her heart that heard what you said—and believed you. That wanted to say yes. But she was scared—and staying with Ted was safe. Having you come back into her life . . . it was like Vanessa had been set on dim, and then being with you again turned her up to full power.”
“And she was the one person who believed in me—and who could calm me down if I was getting reckless.” Logan admitted the truth before he realized what he was saying.
“Let’s agree you should have handled things differently in October in a lot of ways. Fine.” Mindy paused. “There’s something else you need to know now.”
“What?”
“There’s a wedding all set and ready to go in Destin the first week in April. All that’s missing is a bride and groom.”
Logan shook his head. Was he still asleep? “What are you talking about?”
“When Vanessa was out here, she booked the Henderson Park Inn for a destination wedding. It wasn’t what Ted and Vanessa had planned—but it was Vanessa’s dream wedding. Somehow wires were crossed, and the wedding ceremony at the inn was never canceled. Make it happen, Logan. Make it happen.”
Logan glanced at the clock. Five o’clock in the morning. “I gotta go, Mindy.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Trust me.” He started to hang up and then stopped. “You still there?”
“Yes.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
“And, Mindy?”
“Yes?”
“Hurry up and have that baby, will you? Vanessa’s going to need your help—I hope.”
“That’s always been the plan—but I’m discovering I’m not in charge.”
• • •
Logan ran his fingers through his hair. Tugged at the collar of his button-down dress shirt. Straightened the front of his coat. Forced himself to exhale, his breath forming a white cloud puff. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Stood still.
He was facing a wooden front door—not a firing squad.
True. But behind the door were Vanessa’s parents. Once he rang the doorbell, he might have a door slammed in his face or be forced to endure a well-aimed, double-barrel verbal barrage from the Hollisters.
No sense in delaying the inevitable.
The chimes had barely faded before the door swung open. Mr. Hollister, looking thinner and grayer, greeted him with a brief “Hello, Logan” and an outstretched hand.
A handshake—that was better than having a door slammed in his face.
Logan followed his former father-in-law into the living room, bracing himself to meet Vanessa’s mother—but he and Mr. Hollister were the only ones there.
“Sit down, Logan.” Mr. Hollister motioned to the couch. “Mrs. Hollister won’t be joining us tonight.”
Logan unbuttoned his coat, mindful that the older man hadn’t offered to take it, or to hang it up for him. It appeared he would have only a brief meeting with Mr. Hollister. “I’m sorry I won’t have a chance to say hello to her.”
“I thought it was best.” Vanessa’s father settled into a leather recliner, but Logan had no impression that the older man relaxed. “I’m unclear as to why you wanted to talk with us.”
“Colonel Hollister, the first thing I want to do is to apologize for hurting your daughter. To tell you that I’m sorry our marriage ended with a divorce.” Logan sat straight and tall, maintaining eye contact with his former father-in-law. “I’ve regretted what happened every day since Vanessa and I walked away from each other.”