by Sasha Gold
Almost immediately, the phone rings. I don’t even bother checking who it is. I know it’s her, and she’s talking before I can get out a hello.
“I got good news and I got bad news.”
She sounds like her usual chipper self. I can hear the boys squabbling in the background and picture her standing in the living room gesturing for them to settle down.
“Which are you going to give me first?”
“Ha! Neither.”
Something crashes in the background and Jane gives a small, feminine growl. “Michael, give your brothers a popsicle and sit on the porch with them. I need just a moment to talk with your Uncle Trig.”
The boys cheer in response and a moment later it’s quiet except for Jane’s grumbling.
“I swear they wait till I’m on the phone to fight with each other. I think they time it perfectly.”
“So, what’s the good news?”
“Not telling. You need to come to dinner if you want to find out.”
“Wes wants me to stay away from Maggie.”
I expect a response from this little tidbit, like shock or indignation, but she doesn’t miss a beat.
“Oh, poo. You like Maggie. She likes you. In fact, that’s what Gwen I want to talk about.”
I flinch. The easy way she says the words makes me uncomfortable. Something prickles inside my chest. Gwen and Jane had been talking about me and Maggie, and for some reason that doesn’t sit well with me. I’m not sure why. Jane doesn’t sound upset, but she can’t be happy I was hugging Maggie the other day. The memory brings a wave of guilt. I agree to come for dinner because what choice do I have?
Instead of heading home I turn the truck the direction of Jane and Wes’s home and get there just after dark. Thomas meets me on the driveway with a fierce bear hug.
“The police were here today,” he says, his eyes shining with excitement.
My heart pounds. “What?”
He tells the story of how bad guys came and wanted to take Maggie. But he saved her by calling 911. The police came but Aunt Gwen made all of them go away.
I have no idea what he’s jabbering about, and I need to get to the bottom of this story. Now. He jogs beside me as I hurry up to the house.
“Is Maggie here?” I ask him.
“Yup. I wouldn’t let them take her. I called the police. Did you hear my story?”
“I did, buddy. I did. I’m proud of you.”
Inside, everyone sits at the table. I breathe a sigh of relief to see Maggie sitting in her usual spot, across from me. I stare at her, silently questioning her about what happened, but she just shakes her head and looks away. Jane serves dinner. Wes says grace, and everyone eats, but no one is talking about police or bad guys. I’m starting to wonder if Thomas made up the whole thing.
I’m not sure what to say, so I don’t say anything, but it makes me worry Maggie’s in more trouble. I barely taste my food. Maggie’s barely touching her dinner. When the boys finish, Jane tells them to go watch cartoons and I sense an immediate shift in the air.
Wes frowns. Gwen looks pensive. Jane smiles at me and Maggie’s avoiding my gaze.
“Thomas said the police were here,” I say quietly.
Gwen draws a deep sigh before beginning. “Thomas called them when Immigration came to pay Maggie a visit.”
I glance at Jane. “Is that the bad news?”
She shakes her head. “Neither, actually. The bad news is they have other charges against Maggie, from a few years back.”
My chest tightens. “Oh?”
“Two truancy charges,” Gwen says. “They’re from the months following her mother’s death.”
Maggie wipes her eyes, but says nothing. I’ve never seen her cry. Ever.
“Did you say there’d be some good news?”
“The liquor store will probably drop charges,” Gwen says. “But the judge will still see the arrest record and the old truancy charges. I know the judge and he’ll toss her out if he can.”
Shit.
“We want you to come to court and testify that Maggie did a good job at the garage. We need character witnesses to say she’s basically a good citizen.”
Maggie draws a sharp breath. “Basically?”
When I first heard that Maggie might be deported, I didn’t believe it could really happen. Wasn’t deportation for people who’d done seriously bad shit? Maggie was just a teenager and a smart, hard-working college student. How could they justify kicking her out?
I know I need to stay away from her, but I don’t want her to be that far away. Ireland. Jesus. She doesn’t even know anyone there. How could she manage all on her own in strange country? Panic twists inside me.
I can’t lose her.
“Why don’t I just marry her?” I say the words without thinking.
“What the hell, Trig?” Wes growls. “How is that going to look?”
“Why don’t you quit worrying so much about appearances?” I shoot back. “Her life is seriously going to be fucked up if they toss her out of the country.”
Maggie’s staring at me, not saying a word. Her eyes are wide, unblinking and I’m not sure if she’s even breathing.
“Chill out, Maggie,” I say to her. “We need to get serious about this. I’m not going to be a fucking character witness. Not if they’re talking deportation. We need to amp up our game a little. We need to come out swinging. Land the first punch.”
The last part I direct at Gwen. I know she’s trying to help but she’s nowhere near as committed to Maggie as I am.
“I’m not comfortable with this,” Gwen says. “This feels a little like immigration fraud. If they suspect that, they’ll boot her and maybe prosecute you.”
I’m feeling strangely exhilarated. “Let them try.”
Maggie’s still staring at me, but her color’s a little better. At least she’s not going to do a face plant at the prospect of marrying me. I can see why she’s shocked. I’m a little shocked too, but I’m also pleased. I like the idea. A lot.
“She can just keep living here,” I say. “Nothing needs to change.”
Wes narrows his eyes. “We’re talking about some sort of arrangement, right?”
“Obviously, Wes. It’s an arrangement that we’ll keep for whatever amount of time for Maggie to get citizenship.”
Jane sighs, a goofy smile on her lips. “I think it’s brilliant. They wouldn’t separate a young couple just starting their lives together.”
“They’d have no trouble separating a young couple,” Gwen says sharply. “Especially if it looks like an arrangement.”
Maggie throws her hands up in the air. “Great! How about I show up in court with a baby bump! Would that help?”
Wes gets up from the table with a huff. He drags his hand through his hair and paces around the dining room. “This is ridiculous! We can’t marry off a nineteen-year-old girl.”
“Especially since I haven’t agreed to anything.” Maggie’s voice is shrill. She grips the edge of the table and looks at each of us in turn.
“Could this work?” I ask Gwen.
“As a lawyer, I have to tell you this is reckless.”
Sometimes I forget she is, in fact, a lawyer. Naturally she wants to cover her own ass. In spite of that I can see something in her eyes and her lips tilt upward with the hint of a smile.
“But?”
“It helps that you have money, because no one’s going to suggest you’re doing this to profit.”
“I’m doing this so they don’t put Maggie on a plane.”
“Fuck my life,” Maggie mutters.
Wes returns to the table, glancing down at his phone. “The courthouse has a twenty-four-hour waiting period, but I know a few folks down there. They might waive that.”
I’m surprised he’s looking into any of the details. He’s had a change of heart. I guess he’s decided to set aside his love of appearances. Now all I need to do is convince Maggie. She’s glowering at me, like she’s daring me to pop t
he question.
“Let me do this.” I whisper the words.
It feels like it’s just me and her sitting here, even though I know everyone’s staring at the two of us, each of them thinking something wildly different. Wes is trying to keep from freaking out. Gwen’s probably wondering if she’s making a terrible mistake. Meanwhile Jane’s wishing she could slip away and look at bouquet ideas on Pinterest.
“Nothing will change, Maggie.”
Her jaw trembles and she swallows hard. I wish I could pull her into my arms and tell her everything’s going to be all right. The fragile look in her eyes makes my heart twist. I want to fix everything for her.
Every damn thing.
“For how long?” she whispers.
“However long it takes.”
“Why, Trig? Why are you doing this for me?”
“Same reason I do anything for you. I care about you.”
She flinches, like I just said something shitty and she looks away quickly. “Aren’t you seeing someone?”
“No.” I’m taken aback not only by the question but the wounded note in her voice. “I haven’t in a long time.” Not since I met you. I leave that part off.
Her pain vanishes and doubt takes its place. She doesn’t believe me. Why that is, I can’t understand and I’ll need to get to the bottom of that. Maybe Wes said something to her about my past. I wouldn’t put it past him. He was worried I was going to lead her astray. Too bad. She’s mine now.
“You need to make a decision,” I tell her.
She shrugs a shoulder. “All right.”
Jane’s eyes shine. “I suppose I better get busy if we’re having a wedding.”
“It’s not going to be a big deal,” Maggie says. “We’re not having flowers and cake and dresses.”
“Of course we are,” Jane counters. “We’re taking pictures. Putting them in album. We have to look credible.”
“I’ll pay for everything.” I tell them. “All of it. Whatever Maggie wants.”
Maggie’s jaw drops.
Jane and Gwen start talking, jabbering about flowers and Jane’s old dress. Would it fit? Where could they find one in a day’s time? They complain that they can’t throw a reception. Or can they? The debate swirls while Maggie sits, quiet, stunned. Wes wanders off to check on the boys. A surge of adrenalin hits my bloodstream.
I need a suit. Damn. I’m getting married. If I’d known things would go this way, I’d have bought something new. I’m as surprised as Maggie, but I’m pleased too. I’ve never wanted a steady girl-friend, much less a wife. Maybe that was because I never imagined I could have Maggie. It’s just make believe, but it’s still a connection I have with her. A bond. We’ll have a pretend marriage, even though everything I feel for Maggie is one-hundred-percent real.
“Well, ladies, I’m going to head home. Think I need to see if I have a decent suit or something.”
Jane beams at me. “Wear that charcoal grey suit. That’s my favorite. Oh, that reminds me, we’ll need a boutonniere.
I turn to leave, gently tugging a coppery strand of Maggie’s hair as I pass her chair.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Maggie
Wes can’t make up his mind if he’s in favor of Trig and my sham marriage. One minute he looks relieved, the next he’s frowning, worried about something he doesn’t share. He was certain he could fast-track the whole thing, but even the head Poo-bah of the Lion’s Club can’t duck rules about getting hitched.
Trig and I go to the courthouse the next morning to sign the license. Aside from a few clerks, the office is deserted. One of the ladies brings us a form to fill out. We have to answer a few questions, like if we’re related. Trig marks no. It makes me wonder what happens when a person marks, yes. Are both of us of sound mind and body? Yes. Are we both of legal age?
“Barely,” Trig mutters under his breath as he checks yes.
We both sign the document. Trig pays thirty-five dollars in cash. I offer to pay half and he responds with a frown. The clerk takes the money and the license and congratulates us.
Over the next forty-eight hours Jane and Gwen turn into wedding planners on steroids. The idea that started out as an arrangement and would totally be kept on the DL has now become a full-fledged wedding.
Gwen and Jane insist on a dress. They tell me with such wistfulness in their eyes, I can hardly tell them no and I agree to meet them at the bridal shop after class. Walking into the dress shop, I feel beyond stupid. The shopkeeper is used to hurry up weddings I suppose and brings me three dresses to try on. When Jane helps me into a dress, I can’t help getting caught up in their excitement.
“Trig told me you should get whatever you want,” Jane says. “He gave me his credit card.”
“The same one he paid my bail with?” I ask.
The shopkeeper’s smile vanishes. Her jaw drops as she sets a couple of shoe boxes down and hurries out of the changing room.
Gwen laughs, and Jane shakes her head, admonishing me.
The first dress is pretty enough, but it’s the second one that takes my breath away. Everything about it is soft and delicate. The bodice hugs my curves and shows a little cleavage, but not too much. The skirt looks like a cascade of white silken waves. I hardly recognize myself.
Both Gwen and Jane stare. After a long moment, Gwen speaks, softly. “I don’t think you need to try on any others, do you?”
I shake my head. “Do you think Trig would like this?”
“Yes,” Jane says. “You look perfect.”
“It feels like too much.” The dress is gorgeous and I’d love to wear it, but it’s seems silly to show up in a real wedding dress. I smooth my hands across my waist. “When we first talked about this, I imagined going to the courthouse in jeans, and that Trig would meet me there in his oil-stained cover-all.”
“We’re not having it at the courthouse.” Jane’s got a silly smile on her face as she keeps her eyes on my reflection. “We’re having it in a little chapel downtown and a reception at the house. Wes is working on the catering.”
Nobody told me any of this. Jane told me she’d handle the details and that I should just focus on school. I agreed. I didn’t want to think about what Trig and I were doing. In the meantime, Gwen and Jane have turned this charade into what looks and feels like an actual wedding.
I have no idea what I’m doing. No plan. All I can see is what’s right in front of me. Passing my courses. Getting shop-lifting charges dropped. And getting married so that the judge lets me stay in the country. I can’t dwell on the future. Anytime I’ve ever tried to plan too far ahead, the universe finds my plans amusing and responds with. “Oh yeah? Watch this!”
Gwen and Jane leave the dressing room to search the bridal shop for accessories. Trying on the heels, I try to imagine how I’ll look next to Trig. He’s a head taller than me, but with four-inch heels, I won’t look short next to him.
Looking at the reflection, I’m struck by the thought that he won’t approve of all this effort. Grabbing my phone I snap a picture and send it to him. He’s going to think I’m being needy. Clingy. I can just imagine how much he likes that in a fake fiancé.
What do you think? Overdressed?
I wonder what he’s doing right now and I picture him working in the noisy shop, probably irritated that I’m bugging him. Several minutes tick by until my phone vibrates with an incoming message.
Looks good
I huff. “Stop, really. You’re embarrassing me,” I mutter. I toss the phone back into my purse. Trig’s the only person I’ll share the picture with. I’m not talking to Kyle these days, obviously, and while I’ve made friends at Stowe, I sure as hell don’t want to tell them I’m getting married.
There’s a group of us that meet on Fridays to eat lunch and complain about professors. They’re all super-serious about school. I love spending time with them but I know they’d be floored if I told them I was getting married. I myself can hardly wrap my brain around the idea.
&n
bsp; Gwen and Jane return with an armful of “foundation garments” to go with my dress. They approve of the shoes. While Gwen helps me out of my dress, Jane settles up with the shopkeeper. I don’t want to know the details. Thinking about Trig paying for all this makes my stomach clench. He’s paying a fortune to help me and to make this look like a legitimate marriage.
All of us carry bags and parcels out to the car while Gwen talks about tomorrow. We’re exchanging vows at three in the afternoon, taking pictures and then heading back to Wes and Jane’s house for dinner and cake. They joke about Trig not seeing me before the wedding. How the groom can’t see the bride in her wedding dress because it’s bad luck.
Too late. The damage is done. I’m not too worried about it though. I’m pretty sure I’m immune to that sort of bad luck. My doting groom has already forgotten about the photo I sent. He’s probably hunched over an engine, cursing at some stripped bolt.
It doesn’t matter. We won’t live under the same roof. For the first time in years, I understand what to expect. He wants to help, nothing more. He got my hopes up once, the only time he’s held me close, but all he did was slip his hand under my shirt and murmur words intended for another girl.
I wonder if she knows about this charade.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Trig
Maggie and I are going to marry in a non-denominational chapel. It’s part of a historical hotel in town. Years ago, it was the carriage house, now it’s a wedding venue. My brother is as nervous as I’ve ever seen him and says he wants to say a prayer with me and Maggie.
Jane, who has appointed herself the MC, refuses to allow it at first, because I can’t see Maggie until we’re both standing in front of the judge. The two of them go back and forth, not actually bickering but definitely arguing. Finally, they work out a solution. Maggie will stand inside the chapel while I reach around the heavy wooden door and take hold of her hand.
I’ve never held her hand before, rarely even touched her. The instant I feel her hand in mine a jolt of raw possessive need shoots through me. I’m aware of her like I never have been before. She stands on the other side of the door, inches away in that sweet dress she took a picture of. I stand at the door of the chapel holding my girl’s hand and understanding a little better the concept of both heaven and hell.