by Bonnie Pega
She walked a few steps away. “Sometimes love just isn’t enough. It wasn’t enough in college, was it? It didn’t save us then.” She felt so cold, and she wrapped her arms around herself. She had a gut feeling she might never feel warm again.
“Annie. Tell me what you want me to do, what you need me to say. I’m at a loss.”
His voice was tight with pain and it made Annabelle feel even colder. Maybe she’d get so cold that she’d become numb and wouldn’t feel the pain anymore. “There’s nothing you can do. Gregory, the fault’s not with you. You want to change the world and you just might do that one day. On the other hand, I’m happy in my little corner of it.”
“Are you? Are you, really?” He sighed, heavily, hopelessly. His eyes were dark and lusterless. “I’ve fought a lot of fights in my life, but the one thing I can’t fight is you. Dammit, Annabelle, I love you. And if that’s not enough, I don’t know what else I can say.”
“I’m sorry.” Her words, the barest whisper, floated on the air as she walked away, leaving Gregory gazing after her.
Almost paradise, Gregory thought. He’d had his taste of heaven for about two and a half weeks. Maybe some people never even had that much. And maybe they were the lucky ones because they didn’t know the bitterness it left in your soul when it was gone.
Or the hole it left in your gut. A gaping black hole that sucked everything else inside. Joy, happiness, even pain. He felt nothing. Nothing.
Except frustration. What did she want from him? She already had his heart. When they married, she would have had his body. Did she want his soul too? God had laid claim to that years ago.
He closed his eyes and tried praying, but his thoughts were too fragmented. Then the anger began to seep in. He wanted to shout, “Dear God, how could you let me love her only to have it wind up like this?”
He’d have given up every last cause he’d ever fought for if it would have kept her with him, but his ministry wasn’t a cause. It was who he was. He could no more give up his ministry than he could give up breathing. But giving up Annabelle was like giving up his heart.
Why did she see his church as her rival? Didn’t she think he had love enough to go around? And why couldn’t she see she’d be a wonderful preacher’s wife? She was so giving and caring and full of love. She would have been terrific working with the kids. She would have been terrific working with anybody.
His head was swimming with thoughts, with pleas, with reasons. And the emotions were suddenly welling up from that emptiness deep inside him. Love, pain, despair, frustration, anger. He wanted to weep, he wanted to shake his fists at heaven, he wanted to grab Annabelle and shake her, he wanted to grab her and kiss her. What he did was shove his fists into his pockets and walk out the church door.
He walked for hours. He walked until even the fireflies had settled down for the night. He walked until he’d narrowed his thoughts to just one thing—putting one foot in front of the other. He wound up in front of Annabelle’s again, as if his feet were programmed to end up there. It had to be well past midnight and all the lights were off.
He stood in the street and stared up at the dark windows, feeling as if they were fathomless eyes gazing into his soul and seeing that gut-deep hole that still took up so much space inside. A space filled with loneliness. Strange, he thought, how an empty hole could be filled with loneliness, which was, itself, empty. Emptiness filling emptiness. He slowly turned and headed home, wondering if there was something wrong with him that he couldn’t make Annabelle feel loved and needed.
He went to sleep with pain and woke up with pain. It was a heavy leaden weight that he carried with him all day. Somehow, he wasn’t sure how, he got through that day and the next and the next. He went by Virgie’s to see Annabelle, to try to talk with her, but she’d gone to Raleigh for a few days to help her parents pack for their move to Florida.
Virgie patted his hand sympathetically and told him that maybe all Annabelle needed was a little time to work things through. She’d be back for Daisy’s wedding and maybe she’d be more amenable to hearing him out then. That gave him a week to come up with just the right words to say.
She’d never wanted to do anything less in her life. Annabelle stood in a long satin slip in an upstairs room at the church with five giggling half-dressed women. Daisy’s sisters were all readying themselves for the wedding. Lily and Rose were fixing their makeup, Caterina was fiddling with her hair, Anne was zipping herself into her frothy pastel bridesmaid’s dress. Danni was there, too, fitting her specially tailored dress over her protruding belly.
Annabelle affixed a bright smile on her face and pretended to be interested in what was going on around her. A couple of weeks ago she would have been in the middle of the fun. Now she hung around on the fringes and tried not to spoil anyone else’s good time.
Right after Gregory had asked her to marry him, even though she hadn’t said yes, she’d allowed herself to dream. To plan. She’d seen herself dressed in white lace, her bridesmaids dressed in aqua chiffon, or maybe rose satin. She’d carried a bouquet of pink roses and baby’s breath. Her parents had been there, her father tall and proud, her mother smiling through her tears. Gran had sat in the front row dressed in an apricot-colored suit that complemented her orange hair.
And Gregory. Gregory had been standing by the altar, wearing a boutonniere to match her bouquet. His eyes had lit up when he’d seen her and his smile had glowed with passionate promise.
Gregory would be there today, only instead of standing beside the bride, he’d be facing the congregation, and the lovely vision in white would be Daisy.
Danni came up beside Annabelle and handed her her dress. “Put this on and I’ll zip it up for you.”
“I hope you can,” Annabelle said morosely. “I’ve eaten so much fudge-swirl ice cream the past week, I’ve probably gained ten pounds.”
“Maybe, though you look more like you’ve lost weight to me. Anyway, who’s fault is that? To top everything else, you don’t look so good. Come over here and let me see what I can do with some concealer and blush. Maybe if we get rid of the circles under your eyes and the pale cheeks, you just might fool everyone into thinking you’re fine and dandy.” She pushed Annabelle down in a chair and began patting cream beneath her eyes. “Even though you’re stubborn, stupid, and bullheaded,” she whispered vehemently. “And stop sniffling or we’ll have to worry about your red nose too.”
“Thanks a lot for your support,” Annabelle muttered.
“If I thought you had a grain of sense in your head, you’d have my support hands down. But all I can see is that you’re miserable and Gregory’s miserable. You walk around looking like a little girl who’s lost her teddy bear; he walks around looking like death warmed over. I don’t know who’s worse, you for starting this whole mess or Gregory for letting you get away with it.”
Caterina glanced in their direction and both Danni and Annabelle smiled for her benefit. “I did what I had to do,” Annabelle said to Danni in a low voice. “Can you see me being a preacher’s wife? Can you see me losing my husband to choir practice on Wednesdays, visitations, funerals, weddings? Losing my husband to everyone else in town? Knowing that everyone else will always be more important than I am?”
“You idiot! Not more important, just more urgent at the time. And yes, since you asked, I can see you being a preacher’s wife. If you had any sense—” Danni broke off when Daisy entered the room in a flurry of tulle and white chiffon.
Annabelle’s throat tightened and her eyes filled with tears. Daisy looked beautiful, and Annabelle wished more than anything in the world that that lovely glowing woman with roses in her hair and yards of tulle veiling could be herself.
All the bridesmaids crowded around, each giving Daisy a small gift. Anne gave her a gold bracelet she’d found in an antique shop. Lily gave her a charm to attach to the bracelet. Rose lent Daisy her pearl earrings, Caterina gave her a blue satin garter. Danni and Annabelle had a real English six-pence to
put in her shoe, though how she’d secure it in her open-toed sandals was anyone’s guess.
Annabelle heard the first strains of the processional and knew the mothers of the bride and groom were being seated. This was their cue to go downstairs. Taking a deep breath, she followed the others down, with Daisy bringing up the rear.
As they stood in the vestibule waiting for Emmy Tanner, the flower girl, to finish distributing her basket of rose petals, Annabelle peeked around the door and saw Buddy and his brother, Jimmy, waiting at the front of the church. Then she saw Gregory and her heart pounded. He was wearing his ministerial robes and standing next to Buddy, looking so official.
Annabelle hoped she’d be able to steel her legs enough to get her down the aisle. Somehow, she hadn’t thought about how difficult it would be to walk down the church aisle dressed in a chiffon dress, with Gregory waiting at the end. To marry another couple.
He hadn’t seen Annabelle yet. But here came Anne, dressed in mint-green chiffon, followed by Caterina in peach, Rose in blue, Lily in lilac, Danni in pink. He saw Magda’s hand in all this. She’d often said the Gypsy side of her knew what color someone should wear, and she’d apparently dressed each bridesmaid in what she saw as the appropriate color. Then he saw Annabelle.
Gregory’s breath caught in his throat and his fingers clenched around the book he held. She wore a pale gold dress that picked up the gold streaks in her beautiful hair. But she should have been wearing white. And she should have been wearing a soft intimate smile just for him and not that bright fake thing she’d stuck on. Her gaze should have been rich with promise and locked on his, not skittering around looking everywhere but at him.
He closed his eyes against a fresh surge of pain and clenched his jaw with resolve. After this wedding was over, he and Annabelle were going to settle things once and for all. He opened his book, smiled at Daisy and Buddy, and began the service.
He managed to keep his attention on the ceremony, except when Danni and Sebastian’s cat strolled down the center aisle as casually as if he’d been invited and sat down next to Sebastian. His mouth twitched at Sebastian’s grimace and he glanced at Annabelle only to find her looking at him. They smiled together in a brief moment of shared amusement, then Annabelle’s smile faded and she looked away.
With an effort, Gregory turned his attention back to the wedding ceremony. “Do you, Daisy, take this man to be your lawful wedded husband?”
Daisy stood silent for so long, a murmur began to rise from the congregation. Finally she sighed and kissed Buddy on the cheek. “Sorry, Buddy, but I think this is best. No, Reverend, I don’t.” With that, she handed her bouquet to Caterina, tossed her yards of tulle veiling over one arm, and turned to walk down the aisle.
Buddy gave a philosophical shrug and faced the congregation. “Well, I don’t think there’s going to be a wedding after all. But feel free to attend the reception on the church lawn. Lots of good food.” With that, he followed his ex-bride down the aisle and out the door.
After a moment of stunned silence, everyone began talking. All of Daisy’s sisters hurried after her to find out what was going on while kids ran out the door to be first in line at the reception tables. Elsie Wilson began to hyperventilate and had to be laid down on a pew with Bosco frantically fanning her.
Gregory knew he should stay and try to calm Elsie, or find Daisy or Buddy and see if they needed his help, but when he saw Annabelle trying to slip out the side door, he went after her instead. He grabbed her arm and said, “I’ll give you a ride.”
“I can wait for Danni.”
“I’ll give you a ride.” He called to Danni, “I’m taking Annabelle,” and pulled her out the door.
Annabelle couldn’t get away without making a scene, and two minutes later she found herself in the front seat of Gregory’s Mustang. “Don’t you need to do something about that mess inside?” she asked him.
“Bosco’s looking after Elsie. Daisy’s a grown woman and has already made her decision, and Buddy didn’t look any too crushed, if you noticed.” Gregory started the car and pulled out of the church parking lot. “Everybody’s taken care of, except you and me. We’ve got some unfinished business to discuss.”
“Gregory, we said everything that needed to be said.”
Gregory never took his eyes off the road, but his jaw tightened. “If I’m not mistaken, you said everything you needed to say. I didn’t have much of a chance. I want my chance now. You owe me.”
“Rehashing everything isn’t going to make any difference.”
“I don’t intend to rehash anything. I intend to set you straight on a few misconceptions. The first being—”
“What’s that?” she interrupted.
“What’s what?”
She pointed to an orange glow in the night sky. “That.”
“Oh God,” Gregory muttered. “I hope that’s not what I think it is.” As he drove closer it became apparent that the orange glow was a house fire. “It’s the McKinleys’.” He parked the car as close as he could without getting in the way of the fire engines, and he and Annabelle walked the block to the house.
Gregory immediately went over to the man and woman standing in the street watching their house blaze and arguing with each other. Annabelle stared in horrified fascination as the flames flared up, as if trying to reach the sky with their searing touch. And then she noticed the three children huddled together in a little group. They were, she guessed, between the ages of six and ten, and she recognized the oldest, Seth, from the church play.
She walked over to them oblivious to her chiffon dress, and squatted down. “Hi, Seth. Is this your brother and sister?” The child gave a solemn nod, and she said, “Why don’t you come over here with me, out of the firemen’s way, and we’ll sit in the grass?”
Annabelle pulled out every last tidbit she’d ever learned about child psychology and managed to get the kids’ attention focused, at least a little, on her.
The fire was put out quickly, and Annabelle went over to hear what the fire chief had to tell the McKinleys. Her eyes locked with Gregory’s for a telling moment, then she returned to assure the kids that the kitchen had sustained most of the damage. Their clothes would all need to be washed but would be okay, as well as their toys and bedroom furniture. Once they’d been reassured, they willingly listened to her tell stories. The little girl, Gloria, was starting to yawn and rub her eyes already, the excitement and terror taking its toll.
After a while Gregory came over and sat next to the kids. He had a quiet word for each of them and said a simple prayer that seemed to reassure them. Turning to Annabelle, he ran his fingers over her face, wiping at a sooty smudge on her cheek. “Thank you,” he said so softly only she could hear.
“All I’ve done is tell them a few stories.”
“And reassure them and make them feel safe and secure. And give them some special attention at a time when they’re scared and confused.”
She smiled. “Isn’t that about what you’ve done with their parents?”
He smiled back. “I don’t know how much longer I’ll be. Do you want me to run you home?”
“I’m okay here. I’ll wait for you.” She turned back to the children and told another story. Before long, the two youngest had snuggled close to her and dozed off, while Seth huddled down with his arms around his dog.
Seth finally dozed off, too, and Annabelle sat there in the grass and watched as the firemen walked through the house one more time to make sure everything was okay. It was late, the air was cool, and she felt a strange peace settle over her. She had felt needed tonight. Maybe she’d made a difficult time for those kids just a little easier by being there.
She chewed on her lip and thought about that some more while she absently watched Gregory help the McKinleys make arrangements for a place to stay for the next few days. It occurred to her that he must feel the same sense of satisfaction when he’d made a difference in someone’s life. Even if it was just for a few minutes.
This was why she’d wanted to teach. To make that difference, particularly in the lives of children. Had she not given Gregory credit for wanting to do the same thing?
“You ready to go?” he asked her, holding out a hand to help her to her feet.
She nodded and smiled, taking his hand. The ride to her grandmother’s was quiet, but not uncomfortably so. It was, instead, a thoughtful quiet.
When Gregory stopped the car in front of Virgie’s, he turned to her. “It’s late, but we still need to talk.” His gaze, dark and unreadable, lingered on her face.
“I know,” she said. “And I think maybe we should. Tomorrow?”
He seemed surprised at her easy acquiescence. “Uh, yeah. Tomorrow. Or later today, as the case may be.”
“Later today. If it won’t interfere with your Saturday sermon writing.”
“I don’t have to write one this week. It’s youth Sunday. They’ve taken over the service for the day. I get to be just an ordinary guy for a change. Do you, uh, want to call me when you wake up? I expect I’ll be around the house most of the day.”
“I’ll call you, then.” She let herself out of the car, then bent down. “Lock your door, Rev,” she admonished lightly, and walked up the sidewalk and went inside.
Gregory sat and watched until he saw the light go on in her bedroom. Whatever reaction he’d been expecting from her, this wasn’t it.
He shook his head and started his car. He wasn’t going to complain. At least the loneliness inside him had receded a little.
Annabelle lay on her side petting the cat who’d appeared in her bedroom after she’d lain awake for an hour or so. This inability to sleep was getting to be the norm as far as Gregory was concerned. She really needed to think about some things and had hoped to do it after a good night’s sleep.
No such luck. Her brain wouldn’t shut off. Neither would her heart. There seemed to be some master plan, some incredible bit of wisdom that lay just out of her grasp. It was as if she could almost touch it, almost see it, but not quite. Somehow she knew that if she figured that one thing out, everything else would fall into place. Tonight, with Gregory, it had seemed close indeed.