The Wedding Letters

by Jason F. Wright

  Samantha, Matthew, Rain, and Malcolm were all standing on the front porch when Noah’s truck pulled into the driveway. Stephanie voiced concern at the Shenandoah County Sherriff’s Department SUV parked next to them.

  “Didn’t I tell you Noah’s Aunt Sam is the county sheriff?”

  “I think I’d remember something like that, Rachel.”

  Noah climbed out and removed one of Stephanie’s bags from the backseat and two more from the bed of the truck. “Hey guys,” he called to his family. “Come on down.”

  Rain practically skipped to Rachel. “Hello there, sweetheart, so nice to have you out here again. We have so much to talk about.” They hugged quickly and Rain moved immediately to Stephanie. “Mrs. Kaplan, you look even more beautiful than last time. May I?” But before Stephanie could have objected, Rain swallowed her up in a hug that Stephanie feared might last all night.

  Malcolm bypassed the hug and when Stephanie reached for his hand, he took it and gave it a quick kiss. “It’s Malcolm—Noah’s dad. It’s a pleasure to finally have you out here.”

  “You did not just do that,” Samantha laughed. “I suggested that dare as a joke!”

  “Really, Dad?” Noah said, still struggling with Stephanie’s bags.

  Malcolm ignored his sister and son. “It’s a pleasure,” he repeated.

  “Thank you.” She offered it so quietly they could only assume that’s what she’d said.

  Samantha, still dressed in uniform, reintroduced herself, and Stephanie seemed even more nervous. Samantha leaned in and joked, “I won’t arrest you, sheriff’s honor.”

  Stephanie laughed awkwardly and Matthew took his turn. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Matthew, or Matt. I’m the oldest and, quite clearly, the most mature.”

  “Oh, please.” Malcolm rolled his eyes in protest and Samantha threatened to cuff him.

  “How about we go inside?” Rachel asked, and the men stepped aside for the four women to walk up the steps and into the house. When they were alone, Noah tossed a bag at his father and uncle and then dropped one of his mother’s spicier replacement swear words: “Shizzle! You guys are killing me here!” He added a stern look, stepped between them and began climbing the stairs. The other two followed, eyebrows raised at one another. As Noah took the last step, Malcolm goosed him with his foot.

  Shawn arrived as dinner ended and apologized twice for being late. He neither hugged nor kissed Stephanie when introducing himself and her eyes seemed genuinely appreciative.

  “He’s the normal one,” Noah said. “He’s not related by blood.”

  Rachel watched intently as Malcolm and Matthew cleared the dinner dishes. Then before serving dessert, Rain asked Noah and Rachel to walk to A&P’s and invite her down. They were back in less than fifteen minutes with A&P and her cat, Putin. Rain introduced them both and once again Stephanie found herself chest-to-chest with someone.

  “I warned you, Mother. They’re huggers.”

  After peach ice cream, Malcolm invited the men outside to inspect the gazebo he’d been building for the wedding. The women were happy for the time alone and Stephanie appeared to relax in the living room. Rachel sat by her and reminded her she could retire to her room upstairs for the evening whenever she wanted.

  Rain told the requisite stories about themselves, the Inn, a few of the famous guests, and brought up their plans for their future after they surrendered the property after the wedding.

  Rachel had heard most of it before, but she still enjoyed watching her mother absorb it and begin to ask questions.

  At a natural segue A&P mentioned the Wedding Letters and asked how Stephanie’s letter was coming along. Rachel quickly refreshed her mother’s memory on the concept.

  “Would you like to see some?” Rain asked Stephanie.

  “Ours?” Rachel interrupted.

  “No, sweetheart, mine,” Rain said. “You have to wait to be married to get yours.”

  Stephanie looked sideways to Rachel for approval.

  “Sure, Mom. Why don’t you?”

  “Fun!” A&P beamed.

  • • •

  Dearest Malcolm and Rain Cooper,

  Please accept my humble congratulations for your upcoming marriage. May you enjoy a lifetime of health, happiness, and prosperity in the Commonwealth of Virginia.

  And may you cast many votes for Democrats in the years to come!

  Sincerely,

  Gerald L. Baliles

  Virginia Governor

  • • •

  Rain and Mal,

  I can only imagine what advice you’re expecting from an accountant. After all, I’ve been accused of loving numbers and math more than sports, and you know how much I love and miss football.

  Mal, I’ll be honest with you—I hoped this day would come, but I wondered if it ever would. There have been times I wondered if you’d survive your mistakes, your temper, and your past. But you’ve done more than survive them. You’ve done what no one could—you’ve turned them into strengths. I’m in awe of who you’ve become this year.

  Rain, let me get in line with everyone else to tell you how little he deserves you. Thank you for lowering your standards to take my poor brother in off the streets. He loves you like he’s never loved anything. We all love you, too, and I’m happy to call you a sister.

  Now to you both. You know that Mon and I have had our share of ups and downs. Things have changed with LJ in the family now and we’ve never been happier. I think we’ll make it—no, I know we’ll make it because we’ve learned to be honest in all things. No secrets and no games. Do that and you’ll find yourself writing Wedding Letters as a couple to your own children and grandchildren one day.

  Now the best for last. Please enjoy my first and only acrostic poem:

  Make each other first

  Always say, “I love you”

  Respect him

  Respect her

  Insist on honesty

  Agree to disagree

  Get away often

  Enjoy every day like it’s your last!

  Monica and I are proud of you both and can’t wait to watch our kids grow up together.

  We love you,

  Matthew, Monica, and LJ

  • • •

  Rain had read them many times since her wedding day, but some of them still brought a tear. The last brought more than one.

  Chapter 23

  The four men returned inside and after another session of stories—some told for the exclusive purpose of embarrassing Noah—Stephanie whispered to her daughter that she was tired from the day of travel and ready for bed. Rachel whispered something back and took control of the room.

  “Can I have just a minute?” The chatter stopped all at once and Rachel stepped onto the hearth. “Noah, come up here with me.”

  Rachel looked down at the crowd and smiled. “The hearth is powerful. I like this!”

  “Uh-oh,” said Malcolm. “My boy’s in trouble for something.”

  “Not at all. I just want him to hear this at the same time as everyone else.”

  Noah’s lips said nothing, but his eyes said plenty.

  Rachel began, “I’d like to make an important announcement—”

  “And here we go,” Matthew interrupted.

  Rain jumped to her feet, and Stephanie was confused by the commotion.

  “Hear me out,” Rachel said. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while and waiting for the right time.”

  A&P held Putin on her lap and quickly covered his ears.

  “Oh my, oh my, don’t tell us you’re pregnant!” Rain said with her arms flapping.

  “You’re pregnant?” Stephanie said, and her face flushed red so quickly she looked like she’d been doused with paint.

  “You’re pregnant?” Noah said. “How’s that possible?”

  “Well, Noah,” Samantha chimed in. “You have a girl and a—”

  “Sam!” Rain shouted.

  Rachel threw her hands on top of her hea
d. “Are you kidding me? What is wrong with this family?” She almost giggled the words. “Relax. I am most certainly not pregnant. I repeat, not pregnant.”

  Rain fell back into her chair, and Stephanie fussed with her hair, as if the excitement had tousled it out of place.

  “You guys are unbelievable,” Rachel said.

  “Welcome to my world,” Shawn replied, and Samantha stuck an index finger gun in his ribs.

  “It’s nothing that exciting,” Rachel resumed. “I mean it is, but not anything like that. It’s about my father.”

  The room went silent.

  “You mean Daniel,” Stephanie said and the color in her face went from red to white.

  “No, Mother, I mean my father. My real father.” She looked at Noah and they interlocked all four hands into a nervous lump. “I’ve decided to invite him to the wedding.”

  Stephanie rose from the couch. “How?”

  “I’m going to find him. I have contacts now at work.”

  “That’s impossible,” Stephanie said.

  “It’s not, Mother. One of my best friends—Tyler from work; I know I’ve mentioned him before—he’s amazing with technology. He has experience with this kind of thing and he told me that if my father is alive, he can find him, no matter how hard he’s tried to stay off the radar.” Rachel looked into Noah’s eyes. “If my father has become who we hope he has, he deserves to know. He deserves an opportunity to come. Even if he chooses not to.”

  Stephanie felt light-headed and eased back down.

  “Mom?”

  Stephanie slipped down into the couch until her head rested against the back.

  “Mother? Are you all right?” Rachel rushed to one side, Rain to the other.

  Rain put her hand against Stephanie’s forehead. “Someone get some water, please. And a cold washcloth.”

  Rachel slid in closer to her mother and began tenderly massaging the back of her neck. Noah rushed back in with a cold bottle of spring water; Samantha followed with a soaked washcloth. Rain placed it against Stephanie’s forehead and then asked the rest of the family to leave the room. “Give us a minute, everyone.”

  They all drifted outside, including Noah, but only after Rachel nodded approval.

  “Mother?”

  Stephanie reached up, put her hand on the washcloth to hold it in place and felt Rain’s warm hand under hers. Water began to drip and run down her forehead until the lines around Stephanie’s eyes redirected the drops into tears.

  Stephanie stared at her daughter until the drops weren’t just water anymore. “I’m sorry, Rachel,” she said.

  “For what?”

  “I’m so sorry, Rachel, dear.”

  Rachel took a Kleenex from a box on the coffee table and started to wipe away the rivers of water and tears and eye makeup on her mother’s cheeks.

  “No, let them.” Stephanie quivered. “Let them.”

  Rain gave Stephanie’s arm a light squeeze before standing and leaving the two women alone in the room. Seconds later the back door slammed shut and Rain joined the others behind the Inn.

  Mother and daughter looked into each other’s eyes until the weight of the past was, at long last, more than Stephanie’s heart could endure. She pulled the washcloth from her forehead and held it in her hands. “You won’t find him, Rachel.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because he’s dead.”

  Chapter 24

  The Inn was quiet.

  Rachel sat back against the couch and covered her face a moment. “You’ve been lying to me.”

  Stephanie considered the answer, though she knew there was only one. “Yes.”

  Rachel took a deep breath and sat up. She rubbed the disbelief from her eyes. “When?”

  “Long ago.”

  “How long? How long have you known?”

  Stephanie took her daughter’s hands and squeezed them tight. “A long time, Rachel, dear. I’ve known for years.”

  Rachel shook free of her mother’s hands and rose to her feet. “When?”

  Stephanie remained seated and studied the washcloth she clutched in her lap. “You were seven.”

  Rachel felt her fists and jaw clench. “Seven? I was seven? You’ve known since I was seven?”

  Stephanie nodded but could not look up.

  “Seven?” Rachel began fiddling with a charm on her necklace. “We left when I was seven.”

  “I know.”

  Rachel sat again. “What about the cards, Mother? The postcards? I have a dozen of them.”

  “Daniel.”

  Rachel heard her heart pounding out of her chest. “No.” She hammered the word again. “No!”

  “Daniel. He . . . He wanted you to keep believing.”

  “Daniel? Why? When did he care enough about me to keep me believing in anything? When?”

  Stephanie repeated the word aloud that she’d been running through her head on a constant loop for almost twenty years. “Believe.” Stephanie hiccupped in a gulp of air and composed herself. “He wanted you to believe, and he wanted you to be happy.”

  “Believe? Believe in what? Believe a lie? Why? Why not just tell me, Mother? You didn’t think this day would come? You didn’t think I’d want to see him when I was older?”

  Stephanie averted her eyes again. “No. No, I didn’t.”

  “So why?”

  Stephanie hadn’t wiped her eyes and she tasted a bitter mixture of mascara and foundation on her lips. “Daniel and I wanted you to believe better about him.”

  “Believe better?”

  “About him.”

  “Why? I knew who he was. I saw the fights, Mother. I saw the anger.”

  Her voice turned more resolute. “You didn’t see it all.”

  Rachel was back on her feet, but again Stephanie remained still.

  “So the cards were from Daniel. My stepfather sent them to . . . what, to repair something? To make me believe my real father was turning his life around, becoming something better? You and that stupid saying. We recited it over and over and over again. We’re different; he’s different.” Disdain seeped into her voice. “We’re better; he’s better . . . Just words, Mother?”

  Rachel didn’t wait for a response. She left the room and entered the bathroom in the main hallway.

  Stephanie began to weep again.

  When Rachel returned to the living room, her hair was pulled back and her face glistening from a thorough washing. She sat down next to her mother, imagined the word carefully, and said, “How?”

  Stephanie looked into her eyes and her expression answered, How what?

  “How did he die?”

  Stephanie fought the urge to break away, to ask for more water, to escape the Inn and to run into the night. Her leg muscles twitched and her fists clenched around the cloth.

  “Your father was not a good man, Rachel.”

  “How, Mother?”

  “He hit me. He lied. He hit you.”

  “Mother.”

  “He could have done more, hurt us more, hurt you more, Rachel. He could have hurt you much more.”

  “Mother.”

  “There were good days and you remember those right now—I want you to remember those—but there were also bad days, Rachel. So many bad days when you were at school and I was alone and I had nothing between him and me and his anger and his tool belt and all I wanted was to be safe, to keep my promise that I would keep you safe and end the fighting and the cursing and keep you safe. I want you to remember that.”

  Stephanie squeezed the washcloth until a puddle of water sat at her feet.

  “Mother, please.”

  “I killed him.”

  Chapter 25

  The Coopers were milling around the swing outside when they heard an engine start on the other side of the Inn.

  “Who’s leaving?” Malcolm asked no one in particular.

  Noah fast-walked around the side of the Inn just in time to see the tailgate of his truck disappear down the driveway. Th
e others arrived just behind him.

  “Not good,” said Samantha.

  “Was it Rachel or her mother?” Rain’s voice was wispy and worried.

  Matthew joined them. “I don’t think her mother drives.”

  “Son?” Malcolm said, but Noah had already raced into the Inn through the front door.

  “Should we help?” offered Rain but Malcolm strongly suggested they wait and give them space. Shawn and Matthew agreed and offered to walk A&P home, but before they’d crossed the property line, Noah reappeared through the front door and approached his parents.

  “Rachel’s gone.”

  “Gone?” Rain said.

  “That was her in my truck.”

  “What happened?” Rain asked. “Where is she going?”

  Noah’s head swiveled back to the Inn. “I don’t know, but her mother is locked in her room upstairs crying pretty hard. I mean I could hear her from the entrance.”

  “Not good,” Samantha said again with more authority. “I’ll talk to her.”

  “I wouldn’t,” Malcolm advised. “Give her time to get herself together.”

  “Should I?” Rain said.

  Malcolm raised his hands to encourage calm. “No. Just . . . Easy, everyone. Just let it breathe. Whatever’s happening probably has nothing to do with us.”

  Samantha pulled Malcolm aside with a tug on his sleeve. “Should I put a deputy on the truck?”

  “Let’s not, sis. People argue. Rachel’s gone to vent or be alone or whatever. She’ll be back.”

  Matthew stepped into the conversation with his siblings and Noah returned to the Inn. Before they’d even noticed he’d disappeared, Noah bounded back down the stairs, climbed in his father’s F-150 pickup with the Domus Jefferson’s logo splashed across the side and raced down the driveway.

  “What is it with people swiping other people’s cars around here?” Malcolm asked.

  “Could have been worse,” Samantha said. “Could have been my police cruiser. Remember that?”

  Neither Malcolm nor Matthew smiled back.

  Samantha kept smiling anyway. “Too soon?”