FLIGHT OF FANCIE
BY
LINDA RETTSTATT
FLIGHT OF FANCIE
Copyright © 2015, Linda Rettstatt
http://www.lindarettstatt.com
Original Cover Design – Cheeky Covers
Published July 1, 2015
3rd Act Books
Warning: All rights reserved. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work, in whole or part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, is illegal and forbidden without the written permission of the author/publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Characters, settings, names, and occurrences are a product of the author’s imagination and bear no resemblance to any actual person, living or dead, places or settings, and/or occurrences. Any incidences of resemblance are purely coincidental.
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Table of Contents
Front Cover
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
About the Author
DEDICATION
For every woman who has given up bits of herself in the pursuit of happiness, only
to reach back and reclaim that which is most precious. For only when we own
our hearts and minds and souls can we be truly fulfilled.
~
Sometimes we give away the best of ourselves or
trade that part of us for the fairytale we believe
holds our happiness.
Sometimes that best part of us is simply taken away.
Then begins the journey home.
~
Chapter One
Fancie lifted her eyes and gazed into the full-length mirror. The white satin gown accentuated every curve. She was glad she had lost those five pounds before this final fitting. Her vision blurred as tears of joy brimmed her eyes. It was really going to happen. She was about to become Mrs. Graham Wellington the Third. Mrs. Doctor Graham Wellington the Third.
From the time she had been a part of her Aunt Roby’s wedding party at the age of three, Fancie had dreamt of her own wedding. She and her cousins had taken turns being the bride with the other two as maid of honor and bridesmaid. The bride wore a white sheet and pillow-case veil and all the jewelry they could slip from her mother’s dresser without notice. That had been child’s play. This was real and she was giddy with anticipation.
“Oh, you look beautiful.” Her mother dabbed a tissue to her own eyes. “It’s just amazing what Mae Ella was able to do with your grandmother’s wedding dress. I wish I’d had Mae Ella with me when I wore that dress to marry your daddy.”
Smoothing her hands over the bodice, Fancie grinned. “I love that this dress has family history. I hope it’s a good sign that Graham and I will have the kind of marriage you and Daddy have.”
Her mother stood and squeezed her shoulder. “I’m sure you and Graham will have a long and happy marriage. Why, the way that man looks at you….”
Something squirmed inside Fancie. She had been thinking only that morning that Graham had not looked at her the same way for weeks. In fact, he seemed to be avoiding her. When she questioned him, he just said it was pre-wedding jitters and that he was trying to “tie up loose ends before the wedding.” She assumed that meant making sure his practice was covered for their three-week honeymoon to the Greek Isles.
“Let’s get you outta that dress before you drip mascara all over it.” Mae Ella unzipped the back of the dress and held it while Fancie stepped free of the fabric. “I sure hope you gonna find some waterproof make-up for your weddin’ day. You and your mama, both.”
Fancie tugged a tissue from the box on the table where Mae Ella had set her pin cushion. “I will, Mae Ella. Nothing is going to mar my wedding day. I’ve waited too long for this.”
At twenty-eight, Fancie was certain she had waited too long, or just long enough. Most of her friends from college were either engaged or already married with babies, some on their second husbands. The wedding was being talked about as the event of the year in Lowndes County. Graham wanted a formal wedding in the Baptist Church, but Fancie had always dreamed of an outdoor wedding on the grounds of Quail Hill, her family’s home in eastern Mississippi. She had planned the event with her cousins, Chastity and Charity, when they were ten years old. She still had her notes in loopy scrawl tucked away in her desk.
“Fancie, we’re going to be late for lunch with your bridesmaids.” Her mother turned to the mirror and powdered her nose, then refreshed her lipstick.
“We’re only going next door, Mama. You go ahead. I’ll be there when I get dressed.”
She retreated to the dressing room where she had left her flowered print pencil skirt, pale pink silk shell and sandals.
Graham stood in the doorway of the fitting room when she returned. He startled her, but then she broke into a wide smile. He looked so handsome—and so serious.
“Graham? I hope you didn’t come by to have lunch. I’m sure I told you I’m taking my bridesmaids to lunch today. Mama’s already there and….”
“We have to talk.”
We have to talk—not the four words a woman wants to hear two days before her wedding, particularly not from the lips of her fiancé. This could not be good. Fancie struggled to draw a breath. “Is something wrong?”
Graham shifted on his feet. “I suppose you’d say it’s wrong, but it has to be done.”
She frowned. “What has to be done?”
He stared past her to the wall as if it held the answer to her question.
“Graham, you’re scaring me now. What’s wrong?”
Leveling his gaze on her, he said flatly, “I can’t marry you.”
Fancie took a few steps backward, reaching for the chair and dropping into it. “You…what?” The air left her body as if she’d been punched.
He shoved his hands into his pockets and studied the tops of his perfectly polished loafers. “I can’t marry you. It’s not right.”
She grasped the arms of the chair and dug her nails into the fabric. Breathing suddenly became an impossible task. “I don’t understand. I just had my gown fitted. My grandmother’s wedding gown. Chairs are being delivered to Quail Hill as we speak. We ordered a cake!” Her pitch became higher with each spoken sentence.
“That’s why I had to tell you now. Francine….” He drew in a breath—something she envied him for—then exhaled and dragged a hand through his hair. “I know you won’t see it this way now, but I’m doing you a favor.”
Letting out a shuddering breath, she said, “A favor?”
“We’re not meant to be together. We’re not
a good fit.”
A good fit? He said this as if she were a pair of shoes that were too tight. They had been together for two years and now he was telling her they aren’t a good fit?
She stood and steadied herself as her head swam from lack of oxygen. Then she leveled her gaze on him. The shock she felt gave way to anger. “What the hell are you talking about?” She stalked toward him. “Are you out of your mind? We have nearly two hundred people converging on Quail Hill in less than forty-eight hours.” Her finger poking his chest emphasized the last three words.
He wrapped his fingers around her wrist. “Stop. I’ll take full responsibility for informing the guests and returning any gifts. But I can’t go through with the wedding.”
He let go of her and her hand dropped to her side at the same time her heart hit the bottom of her stomach. “This is crazy, Graham. I know you’re nervous. I am, too. But that’s normal.”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I wish I’d come to this conclusion sooner, but it is what it is. Better now than later.” He backed up and paused. “About the ring.”
She instinctively covered the two caret marquise diamond on her left hand. “What about the ring?”
“It was quite expensive and…”
“You waltz in here and call off the wedding now and you want me to give you back the ring?” Her tone changed from a whisper to a shrill.
Graham raised a hand, palm out. “Never mind. Goodbye, Francine.” Then he turned and strode through the shop and toward the front door.
The way he said ‘Francine’ grated on her. He never called her Fancie. It was too informal. And Graham worked hard at creating a proper appearance. Was that all it had been? Appearance? Illusion? She raced after him, removing the large diamond. “Take your damn ring.” She flung the diamond. It hit the doorframe with a soft ping and bounced off Graham’s shoulder. He bent to pick it up and kept walking without looking back.
Fancie leaned against a counter for support, gulping in air. Charity raced inside. “I was just comin’ to hurry you along for lunch. What was that all about?” Her cousin narrowed her eyes, then said, “Oh, no. Oh, Fancie, tell me you didn’t.”
Collapsing into her cousin’s arms, Fancie gave way to the tears she’d been holding back. “I didn’t. Graham… He…called off…the w-wedding.” She gulped between words.
Charity led her back to the chair and eased her into it. “He’s just got cold feet. You wait. He’ll be back here in five minutes, or he’ll call this evening and apologize.”
Fancie tugged a wad of tissues from the box on the table and covered her nose and mouth. “No, he won’t. It’s over.”
~
The bridesmaids huddled around Fancie in the front parlor of Quail Hill, the plantation home situated just outside Columbus, Mississippi and owned by the Hollensby family since before the Civil War. Her mother had dragged her father into the kitchen to inform him of the late wedding cancellation. Moments later, he stomped down the hall pausing briefly to gaze into the parlor.
“James, where do you think you’re going?” Alicia Hollensby hustled after her husband.
“I’m going into town and talk to the boy.”
Fancie leaped to her feet. “Daddy, no. Leave it alone.”
He stared at her. “I’m just going to reason with him. If he thinks he can waltz in here and break my baby girl’s heart and waltz out again, he’s more of a fool than I thought.”
“I don’t want you talking to Graham. It’s over and it’s for the best. If you want to do something constructive, tell those delivery men to load all the tables and chairs back into their trucks.” She appealed to her mother. “Please don’t let him go after Graham.”
“James, you heard your daughter. Do you want to upset her more than she is already?” Alicia put a hand on his arm.
He frowned. “What kind of father lets a man break his daughter’s heart and get away with it?”
“The kind that loves her enough to respect her wishes. Now, go on out there and tell those workers to clear out the tables and chairs and take down the tents.” Alicia hustled him toward the back door and then returned to the parlor. “He means well, baby. He’s just tryin’ to protect your honor.”
Fancie sat again between Charity and another of the bridesmaids. “I know. But I don’t want this to become more of a news event than it is already. I can see the headlines now—Local woman jilted by fiancé; Father arrested for assault.” She blew her nose. “I just want to forget all of this, forget Graham ever existed. I’ve wasted enough time on that man.”
The doorbell rang and Alicia opened it.
“I have the wedding cake,” chirped Sue Ann Owens from Owens Bakery.
Alicia looked back to Fancie, then at Sue Ann. “Follow me to the kitchen.”
Sue Ann directed her two assistants who gingerly carried the three-tiered cake, followed by two more carrying additional cakes to feed two hundred.
When Sue Ann returned to the front door, she glanced inside the parlor and gave Fancie a pitying look. “He’s a fool, Fancie. You wait, he’ll come crawling back.” Sue Ann hurried to her van.
“Mama, do you have to tell everyone? Now it’ll be all over town within the hour. You know what a gossip Sue Ann is. She’s probably already on her cell phone.” Fancie groaned. “We’re gonna be eating wedding cake forever.”
Alicia wrapped an arm around Fancie. “Oh, honey. People are gonna know. Most of the town was invited to the wedding. This will all blow over soon and most people will take your side.”
“My side? My side of what? This isn’t a Civil War skirmish. I don’t have a side. I never had a chance to fire a shot. Graham just decided he didn’t want me.” The realization of the depth of his rejection tightened in her chest and she found it hard to breathe. She rubbed her now-bare ring finger. At the same time, something else stirred in her. Relief? What was that about? Almost as if she’d been holding her breath for a long time and could now exhale. Maybe she was in shock.
Her mother hugged her close. “And it’s his loss. It means the perfect man is still out there for you. You just have to find him is all.”
Fancie knew better than to argue with her mother’s particular brand of logic. She doubted the notion of a ‘perfect man’ existed anywhere. And finding one right now was the last thing on her list.
Charity had been huddled in the corner with the other bridesmaids. She stood and the other women followed. “Okay, it’s all settled. We’re goin’ on a non-honeymoon. You, me, Mikayla, Ashley and Chas.”
Chastity, an almost identical twin to Charity with the exception of a tiny bump on the bridge of her nose, nodded.
Fancie blinked. “I’m going on a honeymoon with the four of you?”
“A non-honeymoon. We’re not going to have you sittin’ around here feelin’ sorry for yourself or enduring the stares and gossip in this town.”
Her mother smiled. “I think that’s a wonderful idea. Where will you go?”
“Wherever Fancie wants.” The other women stared at her expectantly.
Under the blankets with the shades drawn?
Chapter Two
Fancie and her almost bridesmaids crammed into her mother’s Chrysler, the only car in the family that would hold all five of them. She had decided on the beach. Ashley’s quick phone call to an indulgent uncle secured a three-bedroom beach house on Tybee Island, just outside of Savannah, Georgia.
“We have to fill up the tank before we head out.” Charity, who insisted upon driving first, pulled into the Circle K.
While Charity pumped gas, Fancie glanced into the passenger’s side mirror. She recognized the metallic indigo blue Jaguar with the vanity plate—XAM-DOC. Graham left the convenience store and stopped when he saw first the Chrysler, then Fancie.
She peered at him, lowering her sunglasses. He bore a black eye and a red, swollen cheek.
He stalked over to her open window. “You best tell that brother of yours the sheriff will be calling. Look at this.
” He pointed to his wounded face. “Look what he did. I suppose you sent him after me. That was mature, Francine.”
“I did no such thing. And, for pity’s sake, could you just once call me Fancie?” She swallowed hard and steeled herself, shoving hurt aside and giving free rein to anger. “Graham, you give yourself far too much credit for having that kind of power over me. If Tripp came after you, he did it of his own accord.” She adjusted her sunglasses. “But I’ll be sure to thank him when I get back.”
He furrowed his eyebrows, then winced at the action. “Back? From where?”
“That ceased to be your business two days ago.”
Charity climbed back into the car. “Ready to roll?”
“I believe I am.” Fancie pressed the button and rolled up the window, giving Graham a parting smile. And she was, at least in theory, ready to roll. Her heart and her stomach were still doing backflips over the confrontation with Graham. Well, she resolved, they’d just have to catch up with her head sooner or later.
Charity peeled away from the gas pumps, leaving Graham sputtering in a cloud of dust. She slowed, then pulled into traffic. “Tybee Island, here we come.”
The women collectively shouted, “Wahoo!”
Fancie continued to stare out the window, tears stinging her eyes. She felt like such a fool, a total idiot. Graham had blindsided her and she had never seen it coming. Was she really that naïve or was she desperate? She bit her lip so hard, she checked for blood.
Ashley leaned up between the split front seats and patted her arm. “Aw, sweetie. It’ll get easier. Just give yourself time. A few days on the beach and you’ll feel so much better.”
Mikayla clucked her tongue. “Girl, she’s not sufferin’ from a head cold. That bastard called off their wedding at the last minute.” She extended a long, mocha-toned armed. “She can tan ’til she looks like my twin. Won’t make her feel that much better.”
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