Always the Wedding Planner, Never the Bride

by Sandra D. Bricker

  "It's not lost," Emma said, delivering coffee to each of them. "It's misplaced."

  "I think one thing is abundantly clear here," he added, and they all looked at him with trepidation.

  "Something's clear?" Sherilyn asked, vacating her chair to retrieve more creamer.

  "Yeah. The two of you are not meant to be!"

  Sherilyn shrieked while Andy groaned, and Emma smacked Russell on the arm.

  "Relax, I'm joshing you two."

  Andy shook his head and glared at his shoes as Sherilyn dumped a quick dollop of half-and-half into her cup.

  "Of course, you could do better than this bloke, if you're looking for an excuse to give me a tumble."

  "That's enough out of you," Andy warned, and he opened his arms to Sherilyn.

  Emma took a sip from her coffee and shook her head. "The Sherilyn I used to know would never have caved to wedding dress adversity this way. The Sherilyn I used to know was a fighter. She was . . . scrappy!"

  "Do tell," Russell said with a wicked grin.

  "Oh, you wouldn't have known her. She was ferocious."

  Andy hadn't meant to, but he chuckled.

  "What's that supposed to mean!" Sherilyn demanded, hands on her ample hips and a pretend-pout on her sweet, red mouth.

  Andy shrugged. "You know I love everything about you. But ferocious?"

  "Oh yeah!" Emma piped up. "She played soccer like a wild woman."

  "Soccer!" Russell exclaimed. "A woman after my own heart!"

  "She went bungee jumping and rock climbing . . ."

  "No, she didn't," Andy stated dryly, but Sherilyn nodded her head at him.

  "I remember one time when she organized a group of our friends, and they all camped out overnight in the middle of winter, just to be first in line for tickets to Bob Seger's comeback tour."

  Andy laughed out loud. "You listened to Bob Seger?"

  Sherilyn shrugged timidly. "He's a classic."

  "Sher was quite the rocker, Andy."

  Russell nodded as he looked Sherilyn up and down. "Yeah. I can see that. Sure. But . . . what changed you?"

  The look in Sherilyn's eyes told Andy that she wished she knew. The rocker wild child Emma described had gotten lost somewhere, but he resolved to find a way to show her that he was awestruck by the woman she'd become. There wasn't a single thing Andy would have changed about Sherilyn.

  She sat down on his knee and dipped into his shoulder as Andy surrounded her with his arms. "Come here, you little rock star," he said, and he kissed the top of her head.

  She chuckled at that and released a heavy sigh. "Oh, Andy, my dress."

  "It's going to be fine," he promised her.

  "Are you sure?"

  "I'm sure."

  Henry circled them and sat down beside them, placing his chin on Sherilyn's leg.

  She ruffled the top of the dog's head as she told them, "You know, I met the saddest young bride today. She came to meet me with her fiancé's mother, who was clearly calling all the shots as well as paying the bills." She rubbed Andy's hand with her thumb, and she wheezed slightly as she told him, "It's the biggest day of the girl's life, and she doesn't have any say in the plans. Just watching her made my heart hurt."

  "Maybe you should start making some wedding plans of your own," Andy suggested, and she glanced up at him, her moist eyes wide. "Spend a little of that focus on yourself as a client, and let's start seriously planning our wedding."

  "Mean it?"

  "Of course I do." Taking her hand, he jiggled the engagement ring on her finger. "I didn't give you this rock out of the kindness of my heart, young lady. I want a little something in return. And a wedding is a good place to start."

  "Now we're talkin'!" Emma exclaimed, and she snatched the calendar hanging on the refrigerator and dropped it on the table in front of them. "Let's talk dates!"

  Sherilyn giggled and nuzzled her head into the curve of Andy's neck. As she sighed, he inhaled the faint vanilla-citrus fragrance of her shampoo.

  "I love you," she whispered, and her breath tickled his ear. By the time she slipped into her coat and headed for the door a few minutes later, she seemed relaxed and revived.

  "I'll call you tomorrow," he said, and he gave her a kiss goodnight that promised to keep her warm until then. "I love you."

  "I lo—" She stopped, mid-word, then drew in a breath and coughed it out.

  Andy grabbed her by the shoulders and took a step back to look at her. Sherilyn's face had turned crimson red, and her hands flew to her throat as she began to wheeze and cough.

  "Sher?" Emma cried, bouncing to her feet. "Sher, what is it?"

  "I . . . can't . . . breathe."

  Without another word, Andy swooped her up from the ground, grabbed his keys from the table by the door, and jogged back through the house.

  "What's going on?" Russell asked.

  "Taking her to the hospital," he returned as he plowed through the door to the garage and deposited her in the passenger seat of his car. "Just take slow, even breaths. Slow and even."

  "Should I come?" Emma called out.

  "I'll call you."

  "I'm following in my car."

  Sherilyn tried to communicate, but it looked like the words in her head couldn't quite squeeze out of her throat.

  "Don't talk," he warned as he slammed the door shut and jogged around the car and slipped behind the wheel. "Don't try to talk."

  As he barrelled down the driveway in reverse, he looked back for an instant. Russell stood in the middle of the garage looking after them with Henry at his feet.

  Andy pressed the button to lower the garage door. Flurries of snow fell, and he flipped on the windshield wipers at the corner stop. They tapped out the backbeat of the rhythm of Sherilyn's shallow, wheezing attempts at breathing.

  "Hang in there," he told her softly. "Slow, even breaths." If only Andy could have taken his own advice.

  "What is causing these episodes, Doctor? This is my second trip to the hospital!"

  "It is clearly allergic," Dr. Sameshi told them in broken English. "Chart say allergic to aloe vera. You use any new lotions or hair products today?"

  "No."

  "You?" he asked Andy.

  "Nothing. Nothing with aloe," he promised Sherilyn.

  "Wheeze and breath, bumpy rash. You find the source of your allergic. Tell me where located when occurred first episode."

  Sherilyn scratched her hazy head. "Well, umm . . ."

  "We were ice skating," Andy interjected.

  "You were together?"

  "Yes. And the second time, I was over at the house for the barbecue."

  "Boyfriend's house?"

  "Yes. Well, our house. We're getting married and—"

  "And tonight boyfriend with you again."

  "Yes. We were at the house." She paused, mid-thought. "Where's Emma?"

  "Waiting room," Andy answered before asking, "What do you think it is, Doctor?"

  Dr. Sameshi shrugged and grimaced. "I think boyfriend your allergic maybe."

  Andy and Sherilyn glanced at one another, then looked back at the doctor.

  "I don't understand," she said.

  "Skating with boyfriend," he explained. "Barbecue with boyfriend. At house with boyfriend. I think allergic is boyfriend."

  "What!"

  "That's ridiculous."

  "Maybe not then," he conceded, and he rubbed his cheek with the back of his hand. "But maybe so."

  "She is not allergic to me, Doctor."

  "What then?" he asked Andy.

  "Well, you're the doctor. You tell us!"

  "I thought I did. Common denominator you, boyfriend."

  Sherilyn watched the gears in motion through Andy's eyes. Three episodes, all three times with Andy.

  Suddenly, the bridal gown disappearances fell into place like those turning gears in Andy's brain. God was certainly trying to stop the wedding! No wedding gown—twice! Wheezing and rashes and tingling ears. And now this.

 
"I'm allergic to my fiancé?"

  "Seems like it."

  "I'm allergic to Andy."

  "Is this Andy?" the doctor asked, pointing his thumb toward Andy.

  "Yes."

  "Then yes."

  "No!" she countered.

  "Okay. Good-bye."

  "Wait!" she cried as he exited the exam room. "You can't just tell me I'm allergic to my fiancé and walk away."

  "You have Benadryl injection, prescription for inhaler, note for follow-up for allergic scratch test. Maybe allergic to new cologne."

  Sherilyn looked at Andy, and he exclaimed, "I don't wear cologne!"

  "Okay. Good-bye."

  And with that, Dr. Sameshi pulled the curtain of the cubicle next to them. "Hello. You fall on ice? Oh, that don't look too good."

  Andy stopped by the hotel that morning to check on Sherilyn, and he felt pretty good about leaving her with Emma and Fee. While Emma applied white cream to the rash of red bumps, Fee entertained them with her version of Dude, Where's Her Wedding Dress? The latter, of course, being a question Fee had asked every employee on the Tanglewood payroll.

  "I've got most of the staff looking for it, and we're going to find your dress!" Fee had declared with the kind of vigor that made Andy actually believe her.

  All that, and an omelette for breakfast. Sherilyn was in capable hands, but before Andy could even make his way out the door, one rough knock sounded on it.

  Russell's voice grated on him, a little like nails across a very long chalkboard.

  "Morning, love."

  "Russell! What are you doing here?"

  Good question.

  A stranger followed Russell and Jackson into the room.

  "I had to check in on you before we go, and I wanted you to meet my mate, J.R. Hunt."

  "J.R.," Sherilyn greeted the guy. "You're finally here."

  "You must be Sherilyn. I hear you gave everyone quite a scare last night."

  The guy looked like a James Dean wannabe with his worn brown leather jacket with open zippers from wrist to elbow over a plain black t-shirt and worn blue jeans. Shaggy waves of brown hair were slicked back from his stubbly face, and his blue eyes glinted as he looked at Sherilyn over the square black sunglasses perched on the lower bridge of his nose.

  "And these are Sherilyn's mates," Russell told him. "Jackson's woman, Emma. And that's Sean's main squeeze, Fee. Over there is my host, Dr. Andy."

  "Good to meet Russ's merry band of saviors."

  "So when do you two shove off?" Andy asked, trying not to sound as eager as he felt.

  "We're leaving directly," Russell replied. "Jack's been good enough to let us park the rig in the hotel lot for a couple o' weeks while we're on the road. And J.R. has brought along a sweet Harley ride for each of us."

  "You're riding motorcycles in this weather?" Sherilyn cried. "You'll freeze!"

  "Nah, love. We're headed south where the sun is shining bright."

  "You're sure?"

  "Seventy-four degrees in Tampa. Seventy-nine in Miami."

  "Be sure and check in with us when you get back."

  "Righty-oh."

  "J.R., you'll look out for him, right?" Sherilyn asked him.

  "He has a tendency to ooze trouble."

  "I'm aware," he answered with the flash of a smile.

  Sherilyn stood up and slipped her arms around Russell's neck and kissed him on the cheek. "Be careful," she told him, and Andy resisted the urge to say or do something to shove the good-byes along.

  "Will do."

  Russell made the rounds in the room, saying his good-byes as if he had a worldwide trek in mind rather than a couple of weeks on a motorcycle trip with a buddy. When he reached Andy, he shook his hand.

  "Thanks for everything, Doc."

  When Andy tried to pull out of the handshake, Russell smacked it with his free hand, holding it in place.

  He looked Andy in the eye seriously and spoke softly. "By the way, you had a visitor before we left the house today, mate."

  "Oh?"

  "The name Maya ring any chimes?"

  Before Andy could reply, Russell released him and headed for the door. With his arm strapped around J.R.'s neck, he began singing Born to Be Wild. Even after Jackson closed the door, they could hear the remnants of the song until the two men got into the elevator.

  "Russell has a great singing voice," Emma commented.

  "I think I read he has a rock band," Fee added. "They play in little clubs every now and again."

  Andy had no time to weigh his newly-gleaned information about Sherilyn's penchant for rock stars. All he had room for was the echoing lyrics of the quiet song Russell had left behind.

  The name Maya ring any chimes?

  "I'm so glad you called, Andy."

  "This isn't a social call, Maya." Andy pointed to the chair across the table. "Please sit down."

  He chose the Starbucks in Buckhead because he remembered it as the closest one to Maya's dance studio. He'd have preferred to meet somewhere they'd never been together, but he decided not to put that much time or thought into it.

  "You ordered my coffee?" she asked, running a finger around the rim of the cup he'd placed on her side of the table.

  "Yes."

  "You remember my order, after all this time?"

  "I didn't come here to talk about coffee, Maya."

  "So why did you come?"

  The way she smiled at him, the flicker of intimacy in her dark brown eyes, it was all too familiar. It made his gut tighten, squeezing him with the threat of emotions better left buried.

  "Look, I heard you stopped by my house this morning."

  "Yeah," she said, pausing for a sip from the mocha latte, skinny, no foam. "When did you get to be chummy with Russell Walker? You can't imagine how shocked I was when he opened your door!"

  "Maya. Can we focus?"

  And there it was. That chill that he remembered so well. It moved over her like a December wind, bringing up the vacant frost in her eyes, the frozen attempt at a smile, the crooked tilt of her mouth.

  "Fine. You obviously have a whole monologue worked up, Andy. So I'll just sit here quietly and let you have center stage. Go for it."

  In years past, the reference would have knifed him, backed him up. But that was then, this was now.

  "Thank you, Maya," he said with a frost all his own. "The direct approach is best, so I'll just say this to you straight out: I want you to stop. Don't try to enlist my mother, don't talk to

  my friends. And do not—ever!—come to my home again. Do you understand?"

  She brushed her hair back and stared at the table for a long moment.

  "I'm getting married, Maya. I'm happy, I'm in love, I have a life, and there's no place for you in it."

  When she glanced up at him, he couldn't miss the glint of damp emotion.

  "I'm not trying to be cruel."

  "Nice try, but no cigar," she sniffed.

  Andy wanted to groan. "What are you looking for here, Maya?"

  "Oh, I don't know, Andy," she flared. "Maybe a second chance at something I messed up? You used to believe in second chances."

  "I still do," he told her. "Just not with you and me." She nervously brushed back her hair again before firmly taking his hand. "We had something perfect for a while, didn't we?"

  Removing his hand from her grasp, Andy sighed. "It wasn't perfect."

  "You loved me."

  "I did. You're right. But that was a long time ago, and I've moved on. I've built something really special with Sherilyn—"

  "Sherilyn," she repeated softly.

  "—and I'm not going to jeopardize it. She's my future, Maya. You are my past."

  He waited for a time, but she didn't look up at him or offer a response.

  "To push your way from the past to the present is only going to hurt Sherilyn, and yourself in the long run. So just stop, Maya. Please, just stop."

  He began to wonder if she'd turned to salt.

  "Are you listeni
ng to me?"

  "I hear you," she finally replied on raspy emotion.

  "But are you listening?"

  Maya looked up at him and narrowed her eyes, sarcasm flashing. "I'm listening, Andy. I'll leave you alone. I'll disappear. I won't upset Sherilyn."

  Andy leaned back into his chair and crossed his arms as she glared at him.

  After a moment, she softened. "Sorry," she muttered.

  He paused, swallowing before he said, "I still believe things happen for a purpose, Maya. We weren't meant for each other. I've found the woman I was meant for, and there's someone else that you're meant to be with."

  She blinked, and a single teardrop cascaded down her cheek. "Any idea where he is?"

  Andy smiled. "Just around the corner."

  Wedding #3 at The Tanglewood Inn

  October 2010

  CarolAnne Venetti—Angelo Diamonte

  Traditional Italian wedding with ceremony at St. Andrew's

  A multi-course Italian meal developed by Anton Morelli:

  Non-traditional Italian Wedding Soup

  Antipasto—olives, stuffed mushrooms, cheeses, mortadella, prosciutto, and calamari

  Main course of tortellini stuffed with ricotta and herbs; Rosa di Parma (rolled and stuffed beef filet); Asparagi alla Parmigiana (asparagus wrapped in a Parmigiano crust)

  Cake:

  Crème brûlée wedding cake with intricate ribbon detail

  17

  Sherilyn pushed open the swinging door to Emma's kitchen and klunked down at a stool before the door fell still. Fee and Pearl were seated at the other end of the table watching Emma perfect the curved petal of a beautiful arched lily.

  "'Sup?" Emma asked her without looking away from her work.

  "I've got a consultation in two hours, and some of the information I need is in my BlackBerry, which I can't seem to find anywhere."

  "Oooh, that's not good," Fee commented. "I'd be up a creek without mine."

  "Same here," Sherilyn whimpered. "I've been through my hotel room at least three times. I've checked my office, the car, I've retraced my steps all over the hotel."

  "What about at the house?" Pearl chimed in.

  "It could be there, but I've been trying to reach Andy, and he hasn't picked up his phone. I guess he's with patients or something."