by Willow, Jo
Chapter Seventeen : The Wedding Part II
I was right and I was wrong. Ayla was quiet all the way home. After dropping everyone else off, Deacon dropped us off last and I thanked him profusely. He said nothing. He just gripped the steering wheel harder and snarled as we got out of the car.
She waited until we were inside the condo before the questions began. I took her in my arms, kissed the top of her head, and apologized for worrying her. Not only was that the smartest thing I’d done so far, but it was honest and she felt that. I didn’t want to worry her. She’d spent the better part of her life nervous and worried and lord knows she didn’t need that from me.
She leaned back and I saw the tears she’d been fighting to hold in and I felt even worse. That’s when the toxic cocktail I’d consumed took hold. It hit me hard and it hit me fast. She saw it on my face and released me ten seconds before I ran for the bathroom.
She must have heard my sounds of distress, because barely a few minutes later she was in the bathroom with a cool damp cloth, applying it to the back of my neck as I hugged the clean toilet and emptied myself of the foul smelling fluid.
I must have flinched, because something about my movement caused the toilet seat to fall and hit me on the back of the head, which in turn, drove my face into the porcelain. The unyielding toilet rim hit me hard on the cheekbone and I moaned as she shrieked and grabbed for the toilet seat.
As I leaned back, my hand to my sore face, she handed me another cool cloth and I wiped my mouth, then applied it to my cheek. I collapsed against the bathroom wall, my legs sprawled out in front of me, saying nothing.
Ayla gave me a weak smile and a cold bottle of water, which I began to drink from greedily. Once I’d downed that one, she handed me another and two aspirin. Then she took off my socks and shoes. Did I mention that my wife is a saint? Because she is. She’s a saint and an angel and she’s mine. She’s wearing the stolen ring to prove it.
Once my feet were bare and I was properly medicated, she sat next to me, her back against the wall and took my hand. I turned to her with raised eyebrows and she put her head on my shoulder.
“Babe? You have GOT to tell me how you were the only hunk with your shirt still on.”
That was it. No yelling, no accusations, just one odd little question.
I put my arm around her drawing her closer, and began the story that I just told you folks. Her laughter rang off the tile walls and made my head split in pain, but I never let it show. If that was all the suffering I had to go through for the worst night of my life to date, then I’d earned it. Besides. My wife was laughing and I loved that sound. I smiled at her and her blue eyes twinkled at me in amusement. That look and that laugh? I don’t mind saying that I could live the rest of my life for those two things alone.
After too little sleep and two more aspirin, we walked hand-in-hand into the church where our own wedding should have been held. In retaliation for our stealing their ideal wedding, they stole ours.
The church where my folks were married was decked out in baby’s breath and white tea roses, a string quartet sat tuning up to play Melody down the aisle. Large satin bows decked out the end of every pew, and a vocalist was doing warm-ups as she prepared to sing Ave Maria while people filed in.
My temper flared and then simmered as I remembered that we were paying for the entire thing. Ayla must have felt my change in mood, because she squeezed my hand and I looked down at her.
She gifted me with a wink and a smile, then leaned in to speak in a tone only I could hear.
“We still did it first, and you’ll always be my hunka burning love baby.”
The reference did not escape me and I laughed softly before I kissed her. Ayla was my walking anger management class. She diffused every one of my “situations” and made me feel calmer.
“Does my black eye show?”
She studied me objectively and sighed.
“Maybe a little. You hit the toilet pretty hard Pierce. I could try a little more concealer if you want, but I think it’ll show if I do.”
I waved off her suggestion and touched the bruise beneath my right eye.
“I’d rather deal with the questions at the reception. Can I say you knocked the hell out of me because of the bachelor party?”
Ayla winked and then a sly grin lit up her face.
“You could, but it would be funnier to say that you got it defending Anton’s honor in jail.”
I lost it. My laughter rang off the chapel’s walls and a handful of people turned to stare at me. I leaned down and kissed her soundly. She kissed me back and then pulled away.
“You go find the guys. Melody’s waiting for me upstairs in the chaplain’s study. I’ll meet you down front, Hunka.”
I winked and headed for the ante room.
Later, I would find out that Ayla, Dorothy, and Sean, practically had to wrestle Melody into her dress. She had planned to walk down the aisle in jeans and a t-shirt just to get even with Anton. In the end, it was Ayla and Sean reminding her how much had gone into her dress that made her reconsider. The girls were dressed in champagne colored satin and Mel’s dress was the same with an overlay of ecru colored lace. She carried a large bouquet of white tea roses and baby’s breath and she wore a simple diamond tiara. Her father walked her down the aisle and delivered her to Anton, who wore a black Armani tux, a black eye much like my own, and what looked to be a split lip.
I never asked the question that begged to be asked. I simply assumed that he also got hit by a toilet seat. Twice.
The wedding went off without a hitch. Although I must say that when the minister paused to ask if anyone had any objections to their union, I half expected a long line of jilted strippers to stand while raising their hands. This did not materialize and they were pronounced man and wife. The kiss was quick and we all breathed a sigh of relief. The last Sloan was off the market.
Before the decked out limos took us to the reception, the photographer waited to get photos in the church’s courtyard. The Spring flowers were in bloom and the lawn was a brilliant green. The setting was perfect.
Deacon and Austin were assisting Dorothy while the rest of us grabbed our spouses and Sean followed while in conversation with Chase. The photographer had several locations picked out and positioned us accordingly. We looked sophisticated and dapper. As dapper as one can look with assorted bruises anyway. It’s hard not to look handsome in Armani, I don’t care what anyone says. Pair that off with a woman dressed in champagne satin, and well, you’ve got a magazine cover shoot my friends.
That is until the maid of honor shrieks and everyone steps away from her just as the photographer snaps a group shot. The photo showed us staring at her in abject horror as she held up her dress, her legs apart, her abdomen huge. It would capture a moment in perfect clarity for generations of Sloans to come. That was the minute Dorothy’s water broke.
I knew Deacon was strong and I knew he was fast. But I had no idea how strong and how fast, until he scooped her up as if she weighed nothing and ran for the limo. Ayla and I, along with her parents, followed closely behind and we all jumped in together. Melody, Anton, and our parents followed in the second one. Sean, Austin, and Chase took Sean’s car.
Deacon gave the driver our new destination and told him to hurry. He pulled out his cell phone and alerted the hospital, then turned all of his attention on Dorothy. After the shriek of surprise, she’d gone surprisingly calm.
Ayla and I watched Deacon and Dorothy focus on one another. We knew they were tight and we knew they’d gone to birthing classes together. They never talked about it and we never asked. But the proof of their commitment was shining brightly now, and it was impressive.
His hand was on their son and he felt it when she tensed up in a contraction. He began to breathe deeply and pant and she followed suit, focusing on his face and his efforts. After the first witnessed one passed, Deacon looked at me.
“Pierce, time them for us. I need to know how long betwe
en them and how long they last.”
I looked at my watch, taking my role very seriously. Ayla clutched my free hand and I felt her tremble. We hadn’t gotten around to seriously discussing children and I knew this would bring that to the forefront for both of us. Deacon and Dorothy were the adults in our group. The pioneers. If they handled it well, there was hope for the rest of us. If this went tits up in any way, there was a good chance that Brian would be the new “Lone Wolf” in every sense of the word.
Dorothy’s contractions were six minutes apart when the limo delivered us to the emergency entrance of Mt. Sinai hospital. That whole money and privilege thing came into play again, as we were met by a nurse, a doctor and two orderlies with a gurney. Deacon lifted her onto the gurney and held her hand as they raced her into the entrance. We stood in amazement watching. They looked like an Indy pit crew in scrubs. These people had their shit together.
The second limo pulled in behind ours, Sean’s car close behind. The limos left and Sean parked as we all moved as a group through the entrance doors. Melody in full bridal attire, walked as if she were wearing a business suit. She tapped on the glass in front of a nurse seated at a desk in the emergency room. The glass moved aside and the nurse acted as if she saw this type of thing every day.
“Yes? May I help you?”
This is where I have to give her credit. Instead of saying, “We’re here for my sister, Dorothy Sloan”, she smiled and said, “Which floor is labor and delivery?”. The nurse smiled and told her. Just like that.
We must have looked like a bad comedy sketch as we all ran in our formal wear to the elevators. Getting past the nurse on the maternity floor was not quite as easy. She refused to let us enter the actual labor and birthing area, but nicely showed us where the waiting room was located. Several other expectant family members were there, drinking coffee and pretending to pay attention to the television hanging on the wall. Some film with car chases and explosions was blasting away and Melody couldn’t be bothered with it. Before Anton could stop her, she marched up to it and turned it off.
Silence filled the void and everyone stared at us. While I fidgeted with my cuffs next to Ayla, Melody reached her hand out to Anton.
“Cell phone.”
She snapped her fingers and her tone was clipped. That’s when I knew he was still in the doghouse and offered no rebuttal. His cell was in her hand within seconds. She scrolled through his contacts, narrowing her eyes for several seconds before she shot him a scathing glance. He visibly paled and he licked his lips.
“These numbers are gone before we leave tonight. Understood?”
He nodded quickly and took a step back as if to say, “Please don’t hurt me”. Then she pressed a button and waited.
“Don’t you yell at me Deacon Sloan. You tell those people to let me back there and you do it NOW.”
She pressed the “end” button and handed the phone back to Anton. Before she could get all the way to the double doors leading to the birthing rooms, the “click” could be heard as they unlocked. A nurse looked at her in surprise and held the door open. Her dress was full and had a three foot train, which she held scrunched in her hand as she plowed through in search of her sister.
Once the door closed, I turned to Anton.
“How did you get your black eye?”
“She started to come at me and I turned to run. I was still so drunk, I ran right into the edge of the bedroom door. Blackened my eye and split my lip. She spent the rest of the night calling me a stupid asshole while holding ice on my face. How’d you get yours?”
“Toilet seat. Don’t ask. How long does it take to have a baby?”
He looked at me and rolled his eyes.
“How the hell would I know?”
I leaned in and he leaned toward me in response.
“I figured if anyone had children wandering around it would be you.”
He jerked back and looked at Ayla.
“He really is an asshole Ay’. You should probably get out while you can.”
I pulled her into my side protectively and glared at my brother.
“Hey now. I’m her Hunka Burning Love. Don’t forget that buddy.”
He clenched and unclenched his hands at his side.
“Go ahead make fun. You stole Elvis but we stole your church.”
I cleared my throat.
“Are we finally even?”
“Not by a long shot. This is Elvis we’re talking about, asshole.”
I thought a minute, but Ayla spoke before I could think it through.
“How about if we throw you an Elvis themed birthday party and get a few impersonators from various points in his career to entertain? That could be fun, don’t you think?”
Anton’s eyes softened and he pulled Ayla into his arms. I watched as they hugged one another and swayed. All was forgiven. I told you she was a damned saint.
I felt my phone buzz in my pocket and I pulled it out to see who was calling. Deacon. I answered immediately.
“Deke?”
“No Pierce. It’s me. Melody. Get your ass back here, your brother’s losing it. He needs your face.”
“Is Dorothy alright?”
“Dorothy’s fine. It’s Deacon that’s climbing the walls. Come on back and you’ll see what I mean. We’re in number three.”
Ayla broke from Anton and pushed me towards the doors. That “click” sounded again, but I swear it sounded ten decibels louder. Sheer will propelled me forward. I did NOT want to go through those doors. Women in general made me nervous. Women screaming in pain terrified me. I’d seen this on television before. I knew what happened in those rooms. Behind those doors. Pardon me for saying so, but nothing that big should come out of something that small. It wasn’t natural, even if it WAS called natural childbirth.
I heard the double doors lock behind me and I looked at the room numbers. There it was, number three. I approached it as if there were a fire behind it. I laid my hands on the door, took a deep breath, and pushed it open.
There’s a reason certain things happen behind closed doors. I never wanted to see Deacon like this again. Something happened in between the two of them in the limo and my arrival in the birthing room. This was not the same man.
He’d removed his jacket and his cufflinks, his sleeves were rolled halfway up his forearms. He was raking his hands through his hair and pacing at the foot of the bed, his eyes on the floor. Melody sat near her sister. The train of her dress had been removed and was now lying on top of Deacon’s jacket, her tiara sat on the night table next to the bed. In the corner sat what appeared to be a whirlpool tub that was large enough for two and it was slowly filling. Dorothy lay on her side and Mel’ sat behind her speaking softly while she rubbed her lower back. Deacon stopped and looked up when I entered the room.
I masked my terror with an expression of calm control and went to my brother.
“What happened? Is everything alright?”
“She screamed and I lost it.”
I tilted my head, trying to understand. The hangover from that morning was fighting to reappear and my patience for idiocy was thin and wavering. I placed my hands on his shoulders to steady him.
“Of course she screamed. She’s going to scream a lot more. She’s getting ready to squeeze your son out and it’s going to resemble a watermelon emerging through a straw. Get a grip. You took the classes, you saw the films, and if I know you, you’ve studied the literature. It’s showtime Deacon. You wanted this and now you’re about to have it. You even tricked her into it. Man up and help your wife.”
I watched as his resolve returned. He nodded once, adjusted his collar and walked to the chair in front of Dorothy. Her eyes were partially closed and beads of sweat dotted her brow. He picked up the cup of slushed ice next to her bed and she nodded. He fed her a spoonful and after he put the cup back, she grabbed his hand. His eyes flew open wide and she leaned forward, her voice strong and menacing.
“You did this to me. You with you
r, ‘Don’t fall in love with me’, and your smarmy smile and no condom. You with your carrying me down the aisle and your, ‘Honey put your feet up’. I’ll put my feet up alright. One at a time right up your ass if you ever come near me again, Deacon Sloan. You and your damned voodoo penis...”
He turned bright red, picked up the cup of ice again, and looked at me.
“She’s delirious.”
I could almost hear the buzzer in my head and the announcer saying, “Wrong answer”. Dorothy jerked the cup out of his hand, pulled his shirt forward and dumped the contents down the front.
“Delirious? I’m not fucking delirious you moron! Delirious THAT!”
Deacon leapt to his feet and jerked his shirt out of his trousers, dumping ice all over the floor while chuffing out breaths from the sudden temperature drop of his body.
“Dorothy, what the hell is wrong with you?!”
There went that buzzer again. Meanwhile, Melody continued to rub her sister’s back, not saying a word. I stood a few feet behind her, ready to grab her and run if objects in the room started flying.
Dorothy let out a blood curdling scream and Deacon dropped back into the chair and grabbed her hand.
“Focus on me baby. Breathe with me.”
They panted and breathed deeply together, and I looked at my watch. This thing was speeding up. I began to get nervous.
As if on cue, the door opened behind me and a doctor came in, accompanied by a nurse. The doctor smiled as she approached Dorothy.