“Be careful of the gardenia when you get in the car now.”
“Your brother is here, he just pulled up!”
They thronged downstairs. Steve was at the door. He carried Catherine's things outside, came back for a second load and for her.
Then there was nothing left to do but go. It was so hard to do, suddenly, to turn away from all the warmth and love. Mrs. Tollefson was there, hovering near the colonnade, then coming forward to be the voice of the entire group.
“Catherine, we're all so happy for you. I think you've made every girl here into something more than she used to be. Right, girls?” Catherine was hugged against Mrs. Tollefson quite roughly. She pinched her eyes shut.
“Listen . . . I—I love you all.” As she said it, she experienced an explosive force of emotion. Those words, so unfamiliar to her tongue, created an expansiveness like she'd never felt before. She knew it twenty-five-fold, for at that moment it was true. She loved each woman crowded around her and suddenly wanted more than anything to stay among them, to let their hands pull her back into the security of their fold.
But that phase of her life was over. She was swept out into the November afternoon where a fine snow was falling, glittering onto her hair like stardust. The skies were pale, with smudges of gray clouds lying low, shedding their enchanting burden into Catherine's wedding day. With eyes now dry, Catherine watched their progress through the city, in a sort of enhanced state of clarity. Bare trees stood out in crisp distinction, blacker than black when wet by the snow. The snow had a pristine smell of newness, as each first snow does. It tantalized her, falling like petals strewn before the bride, touching everything with white. She stared out the window, sighed, closed her eyes, told her heart to beat right. But it beat all the more erratically as she envisioned the Forrester house, the guests who would soon be arriving, and Bobbi and Stu on their way, and somewhere, waiting . . . Clay.
Clay.
Oh, Clay, she thought, what have we done? How can all of this be happening? Me riding toward you with a velvet gown on the seat behind me and this diamond on my finger? And all those starry-eyed looks burning into my soul from the house I've just left? And your father and mother and grandparents all waiting to welcome me into your family? And guests coming, bringing gifts, and—
“Stop the car!”
“What?” Steve exclaimed, surprised.
“Stop the car. I can't go through with this.”
He pulled over, watching his sister drop her face into her hands. He slid across the seat and gathered her into his arms.
“What is it, babe?”
“Oh, Steve, what should I do?”
“Shh, come on now. Don't start crying, not today. It's just the last-minute jitters. But, really, babe, I don't think you should have the slightest qualms.” He lifted her chin, making her look at him. “Cathy, if I could handpick a brother-in-law, I'd probably pick Clay Forrester, from what I've seen so far. And if I could handpick a family to trust you to, it would probably be his. You're going to be loved and taken care of for the rest of your life, and I couldn't be happier with who's going to be doing it.”
“That's just it. It's not for the rest of my life.”
“But—”
“Clay and I are being married under duress. We've agreed to divorce as soon as the baby has a name and he's passed his bar exams and entered his father's business.”
Steve sat back, absorbing this news. His brows gathered into a scowl.
“Don't look at me that way! And don't ask me how this mess got started because right now I don't think I could even explain it to myself. I only know I feel like the biggest fraud on the face of the earth, and I don't think I can go through with it. I thought I could but I can't.”
Steve slid back behind the wheel and stared at the wipers that slapped disconsolately across the windshield. His eyes seemed focused on nothing. “You mean none of them know?”
“Oh, Steve, I shouldn't have told you, but I had to get it off my chest.”
“Well, now that you have, you're going to listen to what I have to say. You should feel like a swindler. It's a damn rotten trick you're playing on some damn fine people; at least I think they are. And since you obviously do, also, you haven't got any choice but to go through with it. If you back out now, you're going to embarrass them even further than our illustrious father already has. They've been more than fair to you, Catherine. They've been supportive and decent and, in case you've forgotten, quite lavish with their money. Frankly, the things I've learned about the Forrester family have boggled my mind. I find myself wondering how I'd have accepted the situation if I were in their position and faced with the bizarre set of circumstances they've been faced with. It takes some pretty big people to be as accepting as they've been. I think you owe it to them not only to go through with this marriage, but to make a helluva stab at making it work afterward.
“Furthermore, if I were faced with the opportunity, like you are, I think I'd do my damnedest not to let a man like Clay slip out of my fingers as easily as you intend to.”
“But, Steve, you don't understand. We don't love each other.”
“You're carrying something that says you'd better, by God, try to!”
She'd never seen Steve so upset with her before. She, too, raised her voice. “I don't want to have to try to love my husband. I just want to!”
“Listen, you're talking to old Steve here.” He tapped his chest. “I know how stubborn you can be, and if you set your mind to something you'll stick with it, come hell or high water. And what you're telling me is that you aren't going to try to make this marriage work, right?”
“You make it sound like it's all my idea. It's not. We agreed to start the divorce in July.”
“Yeah, and you wait and see how far your agreement goes when he gets a load of his own kid in some hospital nursery.”
Catherine's heart flew to her throat. “He promised the baby will be mine. He won't fight for it.”
“Yeah, sure.” His hands hung on the wheel. He stared unseeingly. “The baby goes with you, you go your way, he goes his. What the hell kind of agreement is that to make?” He looked down at his thumbs.
“You're angry with me.”
“Yes, I am.”
“I don't blame you, I guess.”
He felt robbed, robbed of all the elation he'd held for her, angry that she'd stolen it from him. Frustrated, he slammed the butts of both hands against the steering wheel.
“I like him, goddammit!” he blustered. “I felt so damn happy for you, ending up with a guy like him.” Then he stared a long time out his side window.
“Steve.” She slid over and touched his shoulder. “Oh, Steve, I'm sorry. I've hurt so many people already, and hardly any of them know yet that they've been hurt. You're the only one, and look how you feel. And when Mom finds out, and his folks, well, you can see why I don't think we should go through with it.”
“You back out now and you'll break Mom's heart. She thinks you're set for life, and she'll never have to worry about you living like she's done, with that—that . . .”
“I know.”
“Well, Christ! She's waiting at home right now in her homemade dress, probably all nervous about it, and—Hell, you know how she gets. She's actually, honest-to-God happy, or as close to happy as I've ever seen her, with the old man gone and your future set. Don't do it to her, Cathy.”
“But what about me?”
“You started it, all those people heading for your wedding, all the preparations made, and you ask 'What about me?' I think you'd better think it over and consider what happens if you back out now. Count the number of people involved.”
“I have! Every day I have! Facing all those pregnant teenagers at Horizons while they treated me like I was Snow White and they were dwarves, stitching on my wedding dress all starry-eyed. Do you think that's been easy?”
He sat stiff and silent. She slid back to her own side. The snow fell in flat plops while she stared at it
unseeingly. Finally she quoted, as if to herself, “Oh, what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive.”
The silence was broken only by the sweep of the windshield wipers, which were still slapping away. Catherine spoke to the snow. “I had no idea at the beginning how many lives would be touched by this wedding. It seemed like a decision that would mainly affect Clay and I and the baby. But things got out of hand somehow. Angela said he's their only son and wanted to have at least a few of the family—an intimate little affair she called it. And then all the girls at Horizons got into it, helping me make the dress. Then Mom sees me heading for what she thinks is the good life. Clay's grandparents even gave me their approval, to say nothing of the family jewels.” She turned to Steve at last. “And you, my God, it even brought you home. Do you know what it means to me to have you here, and how I hated telling you the truth? I'm getting in deeper than I wanted though. Steve, please understand.”
“I understand what it would do to a lot of people if you say no at the eleventh hour.”
“And even after what I told you, you think I should go through with it?”
“I don't know . . . What a mess.” But then he turned to her with a look of appeal on his face. “Cathy, couldn't you try to give it a chance?”
“You mean, me and Clay?”
“Yes, you and Clay. What are your feelings for him?”
That was a tough one; she thought for a minute before answering. “I honestly don't know. He's . . . well, he's able to accept all of this far more easily than I can. And the funny thing is, once he got over the first shock, he never blamed me in any way. I mean, most men would be throwing it up to a woman all the time how their plans were ruined. But he's not that way. He says he's going to make the best of it, takes me out and introduces me to his family just as if I'm his real choice, gives me this huge old ring that's been in the family forever, and treats me like a lady. Yet, at the same time, I know it's all a hoax. He does very well at keeping his family from suspecting it though. They've accepted me surprisingly well. The trouble is, Steve, I think I'm accepting them too. Oh, Steve . . . it's awful . . . I . . . don't you think I realize all those things you felt about them? They're genuinely good and loving people, and I'm drawn to them; I like them. But it's dangerous for me, don't you see? I'm to be a part of them, yet I'm not. Giving them up in a few months will be tougher than leaving Horizons was today.”
“All this time you've talked about his family, but you still haven't answered my question about Clay.”
“How can I? The truth is I don't know him as well as you think I do.”
“Well, it's obvious you were attracted to him once.”
“But it's not . . .” She paused, looked away. “I met him on a blind date. He was going with another girl at the time, and they'd had a fight or something.”
“So what?”
“So it was a one-night stand, that's what.”
“Are you saying he loves someone else?”
“He never mentions her.”
“Hey”—Steve's voice was as gentle as his touch upon her arm—”babe, I don't know what to say, except, maybe—just maybe—Clay is worth fighting for.”
“Steve, you above all people should understand that I don't want a marriage like Mom and Dad's. If there's one thing I learned in that house it's that I will not merely survive a marriage; I want to live.”
“Hey, give it a chance. Had you considered that you kind of fell into the pot here and could come out smelling like a rose?”
She couldn't help smiling. “If it'll put your mind at ease, the baby will be taken care of for the rest of his life. That's part of the arrangement. After Clay graduates, he'll help me with tuition so I can go back to school.”
“So the deal is made, huh? I guess we both know you can't back out of it now, don't we?”
She sighed. “You're right. I can't, and I knew it all the time, even when I told you to stop the car.”
He studied her a moment before saying, “You know, little sister, I'll give you odds you won't come out of this feeling quite as platonic about him as you claim to be now. How much you wanna bet?”
“That's wishful thinking and you know it. And I'm going to be late for my own wedding if you don't get this thing into gear.”
“Okay.” He shifted into drive and they pulled back into traffic.
After a few minutes she touched his arm and smiled at Steve. “Thanks for letting me unload on you. I feel better now.”
He winked at her. “You really are a babe, in lots of ways,” he said, covering her hand with his own, hoping Clay Forrester recognized that fact.
Chapter 17
The windows of the Forrester home were all ablaze, throwing oblique patches of gold across the snow of early evening. Each of the front columns was festooned with an enormous arrangement of Indian corn, scarlet leaves and bearded wheat with nutmeg-colored ribbons trailing streamers that drifted in a meek breeze. Snow settled softly upon the scene and Catherine gave a soft exclamation of surprise at the liveried attendant who was sweeping the cobbled walk.
She could see that Angela's expert hand had done its work and wondered what other surprises awaited her inside. Catherine fought against the overwhelming sensation of coming home. She fought, too, against the both terrible and wonderful sense of expectation. Surely this incredible day was not happening. Yet the scent of gardenia was real. And the diamond on her hand was so large she couldn't draw her glove over it. Summoning common sense did little good. The flutter of excitement persisted, disquieting, reducing Catherine to nervous jitters.
Then the attendant was smiling, opening the door, while Catherine fought the crazy sensation that she was debarking from a coach-and-four.
The foyer door opened upon yet another dreamlike setting: bronze and yellow flowerbursts threaded with ribbons, cascading from the spooled stair rail at evenly spaced intervals. Angela appeared with Ada in tow, sweeping Catherine into a hurried hug, whispering conspiratorially, “Hurry on up. We don't want you to be seen here.”
“But, Steve—” Catherine strained to glance over her shoulder, dismayed at being whisked through the tantalizing foyer without being allowed to dote upon it. Angela's laughter tinkled into the softly glowing space as if she understood Catherine's reluctance to be swept through so hastily.
“Don't worry about Steve. He knows what to do.”
The floral impressions had to be left behind momentarily. Yet a last look behind her gave Catherine the sight of two white-capped maids peeking over the banister for one forbidden glimpse of the bride.
Insanity continued as Catherine was ushered into a stunningly appropriate bedroom, trimmed in pink flounced ruffles and floor-length priscillas. It was carpeted, too, in palest pink, and furnished with a glorious brass bed and free-standing cheval mirror, ruffled pillows, and a girlish look that seemed the counterpart to Angela's giddiness.
When the door closed behind them, Angela immediately captured both of Catherine's hands. “Forgive an old-fashioned mother her whims, my dear, but I didn't want to run the risk of your meeting Clay somewhere in the hall.” Angela squeezed the damp palms. “You look lovely, Catherine, so lovely. Are you excited?”
“I . . . yes . . . it . . .” She glanced at the door. “All those flowers down there . . . and a doorman!”
“Isn't it exciting? I can't think of another affair I've had more fun arranging. I believe I'm a little breathless, as well. Can I tell you a secret?” She smiled conspiratorially again, then turned to include Ada in the secret. “So is Clay.”
The idea seemed preposterous, yet Catherine asked, “He is?”
“Ah! He's been driving us crazy all day, worrying if there was enough champagne and if the flowers would arrive on time and if we'd forgotten Aunt Gertie's family on the guest list. He's been the typical bridegroom, which pleases me immensely.” Then Angela breezily commandeered Ada. “Now we'll leave you alone for a minute. I want to show your mother the cake and gifts. You'll find e
verything you need in the bath there, and if you don't find it, let one of the maids know. Come on, Ada. I think we deserve a little glass of sherry to calm our mothers' nerves.”
But before they could leave, a maid opened the door and ushered in a breathless Bobbi, with a plastic clothing carrier over her arm. There followed a flurry of kisses and greetings and hanging up of gowns, and exclamations over all the subdued activity going on downstairs.
“We'll see you later, Catherine.” Angela waved two fingers and took Ada away, but not before warning, “Now remember, you're not to leave this room until I come for you.”
“Don't worry,” Bobbi promised. “I'll see that she doesn't.”
Left alone, Catherine and Bobbi had only to look at each other to burst into matching grins and hug each other again, before Bobbi exclaimed, “Have you seen what's going on down there!”
Catherine, panicked afresh, placed a hand on her hammering heart and pleaded, “Don't tell me. I'm giddy enough as it is. This is all so unbelievable!”
Whatever Catherine had expected this evening to be, she had not in her wildest dreams believed it would turn out like the make-believe weddings she and Bobbi had conjured up during childhood. Yet it seemed to be. Each of the girls realized it as they stood in the feminine bedroom, exchanging inanities, occasionally giggling. A maid knocked to ask if their dresses needed any last-minute pressing. They sent her away and went into the bathroom to check each other's hair, giving a last swish of hair spray, then laughing into each other's eyes in the huge mirror. Another knock sounded and produced a maid with two large boxes containing their bouquets.
They laid them on the bed and looked at the unopened, white containers.
“You first,” Catherine said, clasping her hands beneath her chin.
“Oh, no, not this time. We're not eight-year-olds pretending anymore. You first!”
“Let's open them together then.”
They did. Bobbi's held a quaint basket of bronze mums and apricot roses, with streamers of pale ribbon falling from its handle. Catherine stood back, quite unable to reach for the stunning spray of white gardenia, baby's breath, and apricot roses nestled in their transparent bag with dewy beads of moisture clinging inside. Bobbi watched her press her hands to her cheeks, then close her eyes momentarily, open them once again to remain stock-still, staring at the blossoms. So Bobbi leaned down, removed the pearl-headed pin and lifted the huge spray from its wrapper, releasing the heady fragrance of gardenia and roses into the room. She pinned one of the gardenias into Catherine's hair. Still, Catherine seemed unable to move.
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