by S. L. Naeole
“Well, I just wanted to check on the bride and let you know that your groom is waiting for you,” Ameila said with a forced smile that still managed to take your breath away. “Grace, when you hear the music start, I want you to walk out of the tent and follow the white runner towards the gazebo, alright?”
“Alright,” I agreed.
“Katie, since you’re walking Janice down the aisle, I want you to count to twenty after Grace leaves and then it’ll be your turn. Take slow steps so that the guests can appreciate Janice’s dress.” When she noticed Katie’s downcast expression, she smiled at her and added, “We also want everyone to take notice of her hair and makeup, since you did such an excellent job on hers.” She made it a point to emphasize “hers”, and then turned to leave.
“The next time I see you, you’ll be Mrs. Janice Shelley,” she said with a wink just before she exited the tent.
Janice beamed at those words, a delighted glow appearing on her face. I took heart in that and waited for my cue. As soon as I heard the music, my legs pulled me forward, and I was nearly out of the tent when Katie cried out, “Your shoes!”
Quickly, she found the box and helped me slip them on, helping to steady me as I teetered dangerously. “Are you okay?” she asked after a moment, and I nodded. “Good. Now, hurry!”
She gave me a good shove and I stumbled out of the tent, my arms flailing like two demented windmills. I would have fallen flat on my face in front of the guests had it not been for the strong hand that managed to grab a hold of one flapping arm just before my nose made contact with the white runner beneath my feet.
“You, my dear, are in need of an escort.”
I stared down at a pair of perfectly polished shoes and knew instantly who it was that had rescued me from making an utter fool of myself. “You must be addicted to saving me,” I said jokingly as I raised my head to stare into his pewter eyes.
“I might be the one in need of saving by the way you take my breath away,” he replied, helping me to stand upright. “However, there’s something that’s just not right.” With lightning fast hands, he pulled out something from the pocket on his jacket and began to wipe my face. Though he was quick, he was also infinitely gentle.
He stood back, scrutinizing me with a sight I knew could detect even the most microscopic of flaws, and sighed in satisfaction. “That is much better. I don’t like it when I cannot see your freckles—they are some of the most beautiful things I have ever seen.”
A head popped out from a slit in the tent and we both turned to stare at Katie, who looked furious that I hadn’t managed to take one step beyond the tent yet. “Why are you still here?” she snapped before turning to look at Robert. Instantly, her demeanor changed and a smile began to spread across her face. “And who are you,” she asked in a sultry voice.
I decided right then and there that I didn’t really like Katie very much.
“Hello,” Robert greeted, the smile he gave in return turning her cheeks bright crimson. “My name is Robert Bellegarde; this is my family’s retreat, and this-” he looked at me with loving eyes “-is the love of my life.”
I choked on his words, and he gently patted my back, the smile never leaving his face. Katie’s did, however, and for a split second I was reminded of another bottle-blonde who hadn’t taken the news that Robert had chosen me to fall in love with that well.
“The music has started—you should get going,” she said to me curtly before pulling her head back through the slit.
Robert chuckled as he held his arm out to me and I took it obligingly, grateful for his help and glad that he didn’t like the new and improved me; the old me suited him just fine.
I looked towards my dad standing at the top of the gazebo, anxiously awaiting his bride, and I nodded. “Yes.”
We began walking, Robert’s pace matching mine step for step, and I smiled—a silly, goofy, weird and altogether un-Grace-like smile—and I didn’t care. My dad looked so happy and young that I could almost picture what he had looked like when he had married my mom. I saw Stacy sitting in the second row, her pale face glowing from her own brand of happiness. She winked at me and nodded to her side. I looked to the seat beside her and felt a burst of joy within me as I saw Graham sitting beside her, a coy smile on his face.
I turned to look at Robert, whose wide grin was enough to draw forth a rush of heat to my face that had nothing to do with the people staring at the odd couple we made. Robert led me to my designated spot below the steps leading up to the gazebo and then took a seat next to Ameila, the only other unoccupied seat. I felt a slight twinge of dismay, but as the melody playing changed to a more romantic tune, I shook the thought out of my head. This moment was all about Dad and Janice. There would be time for questions later.
IN YOUR DREAMS
Having never been to a wedding before, I had no basis for comparison when it came to how the vows and the ceremony went for Dad and Janice. But from what I saw, what I heard, and what I felt during the brief ceremony, I knew that Dad and Janice had just shared one of the most happiest moments in their lives.
I’d never heard Dad speak so lovingly about anyone other than Mom before, and though a part of me still felt some sadness that he was saying these words to a different woman, I also felt wholly grateful to Janice for finally being the person that made him fall in love again.
It also helped that she totally did not mind, and in fact laughed when the song that played when they made their way down the aisle after they had been pronounced man and wife was none other than a meowing version of “Celebration”.
The reception began with typical fanfare, though I was too busy staring at everything that had been done since I had popped my head out of the dressing tent to peek at the preparations. The chandeliers that had been hung from the top of the tent were blazing with light, their crystal facets dangling down, sparkling with an almost impossible amount of sparkle. I pointed to them and looked at Robert, who winked, knowing exactly what I was thinking—of course he would.
Stacy and Graham found us rather quickly and I threw my arms around Graham, still shocked that he had flown back home to attend a spring wedding in Ohio rather than a bikini party in Miami. “You have got to tell me how you got back here,” I told him as we sat down at the table that had been reserved for us. “Did you know you were going to come back?”
He shook his head and began to drum his fingers against the table, a sure sign that he was nervous. “I didn’t know what I was doing until I got on that plane, to be honest with you. I just couldn’t deal with sitting at my mom’s place and wondering what’s going on here. I told my mom that I had to come back, and she didn’t argue—she changed my ticket and I flew home.”
Stacy grinned at me and nodded her head. “I called him this morning—after ten—and of course his mom was telling me that he wasn’t there, that he’d left to come home and why wasn’t I at the airport picking him up—I was a wreck when I picked him up, let me tell you—I must have broken about ten traffic laws and about a dozen laws of physics just to get to the airport.”
Graham laughed and pointed to Stacy’s hair. “She has hair just like yours when you wake up, Grace. It’s hysterical! She came racing up to the curb to get me and jumped out of the car with her hair looking like some kind of Medusa head or something and I swear, she scared some kid standing next to his mom. Poor kid just started screaming like she was going to eat him or something.”
I began laughing as Stacy started to pummel Graham’s arm, her fists missing their mark more often than not because she was too busy laughing to concentrate, and even Robert found this amusing enough to join in.
Graham began nodding his head and grinned at me once the laughter died down. I stared at him, my mouth pulled up on one side in a smirk, and asked him what he was smiling about.
“You. Who’d have thought that Grace Shelley would be sitting at a wedding wearing a fancy dress and high heeled shoes? And looking pretty darn good, too, if I do say so myse
lf—no offense, Robert—which would make quite a few girls at school mighty jealous.”
I rolled my eyes at his comments, but Robert nodded his head and grinned as well. “I helped,” he said cockily. He pulled out the handkerchief that he had used to wipe my face and threw it at Graham. “That contains nearly three-quarters of the makeup that was plastered onto her face. For a short while, she was a completely different person.”
Stacy grabbed the handkerchief from Graham’s grasp and opened it up, gagging as she realized the amount of makeup that had been on my face. “Good grief, what was she trying to cover?”
I chuckled and pointed to my face, as though that were explanation enough. Robert pushed my hand down and clicked his tongue in disapproval. “You know that’s not true,” he insisted.
“I know that she put so much makeup on me if I had leaned forward too far, I’d have fallen over. Actually, I did fall over.”
Stacy snorted and threw the handkerchief up into the air, shaking her head as it landed onto the table with an audible sound. “I’ve heard of being top-heavy, but never when it came to someone’s face.”
The conversation died then as guests started to fill up the tent, each one stopping by our table and the one occupied by Dad and Janice to congratulate us on the marriage, or to compliment us on our clothes, our hair, and so on. It was rather tedious to pretend that I appreciated their comments, because in truth, I was more embarrassed than pleased, my face burning with it. As each person or couple filed past us, I became more and more convinced that I was never going to get married if getting married resulted in so much attention.
“I’d love to see you in a wedding dress one day,” Robert whispered into my ear as he nuzzled it with his nose, breathing in the scent of my hair—I hope he enjoyed the aroma of four cans of hairspray.
“Dream on,” I whispered back, never breaking my smile as the last few guests paid us a visit before heading back to their tables.
“Why?” Robert asked, his whisper sounding more like a hiss. “You speak of wanting to spend the rest of your life with me, yet don’t see yourself getting married to me?”
I looked at him and frowned. I’m eighteen years old—the last thing I want to talk about is getting married. I understand that it’s natural for people to want to think about it at weddings, but not me.
Robert pulled away and stared at me, his expression one of puzzled annoyance. In an effort to distract myself from his glaring eyes, I grabbed my napkin and unfolded it slowly, almost methodically. I shook it out thoroughly, as though doing so would somehow erase the creases that had formed in the thick linen before placing it on my lap.
“Are you sure you shook out all of the wrinkles?” Stacy quipped as she laid hers onto her lap with careless speed.
“I’m just trying to make sure I cover up enough—I don’t want to spill anything on this dress,” I improvised quickly.
Graham held his glass up to be filled with some pinkish looking beverage and grinned. “So, what’s on the menu?”
“I have no clue,” I replied truthfully. “Janice let Dad choose the caterer—I didn’t even know the wedding was going to be here until this morning, so you can imagine just how much I know about the food.”
Stacy pulled up a little card that had been lying on her plate and began to read it out loud. “This afternoon’s late lunch has been catered by the Angels’ Street Mission.” She held it out to Graham who took it and began to read off the menu.
“Appetizers—Asparagus Wrapped in Bacon—hey, that’s my kind of appetizer! Soup—Lentil and Ham with Roasted Butternut Squash—great, more rabbit food. Main Course—Your Choice of Wild Rice Stuffed Chicken Breast or Warm Steak Salad with Blue Cheese Vinaigrette—I feel cheated, totally cheated by this menu.”
Robert grabbed the menu from Graham’s hand and completed the listing. “For Dessert, White Chocolate cake with Blackberry Filling with White Chocolate Ganache Frosting prepared by the ladies at the Angels’ Street Mission.”
He placed the card onto his plate and smiled, obviously appreciating the name. “I think that that was a wonderful idea—having the mission cater this wedding.”
Stacy nodded in agreement. “We give the kids there free lessons on the weekends. This was an excellent idea.”
“I didn’t know your dad knew anything about that place,” Graham said as he watched while servers carrying overly large trays piled with plates of Asparagus began to walk towards the tables. “But I don’t care either—bring on the grub!”
I rolled my eyes and looked over to my dad, his face beaming as he watched while everyone was being served. I didn’t know how much he and Janice had intended to spend on this wedding, but with Ameila taking care of most of the costs, the majority of their budget was available to do with as they pleased and it made me feel inordinately proud that Dad had chosen to help one of the charities here instead.
“Are you going to eat that, Grace?”
I turned around and saw Graham staring at my plate hungrily. I looked down and saw that a serving of the appetizers had been placed in front of me. Shaking my head, I handed the plate to him. “Here—I’m not a fan of asparagus.”
Robert handed his plate to Graham as well, giving him the excuse that he wasn’t a fan either. He then turned to look at me, using this opportunity to continue the conversation that I had wrongly assumed was over.
You need to explain to me why simply talking about marriage sounds so abhorrent to you.
I looked away as I responded, not wanting to see the reaction in his eyes. I’m not that girl—the girl who spends her childhood thinking about the guy she would marry, the guy who would rescue her from her prison tower. The only time I ever thought about who it was that I wouldn’t mind getting married to, it ended up being Graham.
I waited for the response, but when none came I felt a slight panic come over me. I turned around, afraid that he wouldn’t be in his seat when I did, more afraid that he would be.
Still here.
I giggled nervously, quickly covering my mouth with my hand. He grabbed it and pulled it down, pushing my chin up with his fingers, a warm smile on his face. You don’t have to worry about what I think anymore, Grace. I know what you felt for Graham, and I’m okay with it. You two have a history, a very long history that cannot be erased simply because I’ve entered your life.
I shook my head and lowered my head, suddenly shy. There’s only ever been you.
“Hey, are you two lovebirds just going to make googly-eyes at each other or are you going to actually eat?” Graham grumbled from his seat.
I looked in front of me and saw that a small bowl of orangey soup had been served. “How does it taste?” I asked, as my eyes took in the orange lumps that floated just beneath the liquid’s surface.
Stacy snorted. “He apparently enjoys it a lot more than he thought he would because he’s already tried to take mine.”
Robert handed over his bowl to a grateful Graham, then turned to look at me once more. “Aren’t you hungry?”
I shook my head. “No.”
“Why not?”
“I haven’t really been that hungry lately,” I admitted. “I guess I’ve been too concerned over all that’s been happening.”
“You need to eat, Grace. Your human body needs sustenance to operate.”
Graham grunted his agreement. “You should eat more, Grace. You’ve lost a lot of weight these past few weeks—of course that might have more to do with Janice’s cooking, but this soup is good; you should at least try some.”
Stacy grinned. “Yeah, Grace. You should try it. Who knows, you might like it so much, you might be serving this at your own wedding someday.”
I glowered at her, sinking into my chair as she laughed at my reaction. “Why is everyone so obsessed with me getting married?” I grumbled, not understanding the fascination with the idea.
“Because it’s a wedding, and you’re the next natural choice—you and Robert aren’t going anywhere, not from wh
at I can see, plus it makes sense,” Stacy said between spoonfuls. “Besides, it’s not like we’re suggesting you get married right this instant. That would just be dumb.”
Graham and Robert nodded, both of them grinning like loons, causing me to roll my eyes. “I’m not the next natural choice. You could meet Mr. Right here tonight,” I remarked to Stacy, and began searching the crowd for someone to prove my point.
“Don’t bother—I tried,” she laughed. “Everyone here is either too old for me, works at your dad’s Grocery store—which would make it too weird—or happens to be Graham, and we know how that went the first time around.”
“You know, there’s nothing wrong with getting engaged early and then postponing the wedding for a few years,” Graham chimed in.
“Traitor,” I hissed at him.
“What?” he said as he guffawed. “You know if you’re trying to get Robert to propose, that’s not exactly the best way to go about doing it.”
That was it, the last straw—I had had it with the innuendos and the jokes. I stood up, threw my napkin into the bowl of cold soup, and stormed out of the tent, losing my shoe somewhere between the table and the last tent pole as I headed towards the park bench that seemed to be calling out to me.
I pulled off the other shoe so that I wouldn’t look as ridiculous as I felt walking barefoot in a bridesmaid’s gown, and, lifting the hem, closed the distance between me and the bench.
“Ugh,” I grunted as tried to sit down without damaging the dress and stumbled, landing on the bench roughly, the hard surface sending shooting pains down my legs. “This wouldn’t happen if I were wearing jeans,” I complained as I pulled the skirt up and tucked it between my legs, assembling what could only have been the most pathetic attempt at a pair of makeshift pants anyone has ever seen.