Save The Date

by K. S. Thomas

  While Liss went off to call Savannah, I was busy getting better acquainted with the structures I’d be building as Stephanie handed me one picture after the next.

  “I never realized there was a need for freestanding barn doors at a wedding.” I’d been staring at the open double doors leading to nowhere in particular for a solid minute. Part of me wanted to say no to building them on principal.

  “It’s a whole theme. See? We set up the doorway to signal the entrance to our wedding. We have the window and door frames filled with hanging pictures, oh, and the big wooden barrels Cal’s mom ordered to use as flower stands. We put it all together and it will have this lovely, romantic, rustic, country thing happening.”

  I still didn’t really get it, but Steph and Lissy had certainly seemed excited about it and I assumed Savannah would feel the same. So, I resigned myself to building whatever I was handed.

  “You know, Cal isn’t just my boss, she’s also one of my closest friends.” Steph looked like she was still focused on the file at her fingertips, but I was pretty sure we were about to discuss something that had nothing to with Savannah’s wedding. “Cal hasn’t exactly had what you might call a whole lot of success in the relationship department. She’s convinced herself that she doesn’t want one and that marriage is total bull, but look at what the woman does for a living. Obviously, the little girl who believes in fairy tales is still in there somewhere, no matter how hard she’s tried to kill her off.”

  I tossed the paper I’d been holding, into my to-do pile and turned my back to the table to get a better look at Steph. “You giving me insider information?”

  “Yeah, so listen up. This shit is going to make or break you. Cal is a chickenshit. She’s scared of pretty much everything and because of that, she’s also a total control freak. The two together make for a lethal combo when it comes to dating. Either something happens to make her rock that deer in the headlights look that makes her want to take control and cut the sucker from her life, or the sucker does something to screw up all the ducks she likes to keep so neatly in a row that she gets scared and bails. Either way, she’s fucked. Personally, I blame her father, but then I blame my father, too. We all have our issues.”

  What she was saying was making sense. I just didn’t see how exactly it was helpful. “So, you’re saying…what are you saying?”

  “I’m saying, learn from the Tyler’s she’s left in her wake. She can’t be held down or chased. So you’re going to have to find some other way to keep her put.”

  I frowned. “Any suggestions? Or is pointing out all the reasons it won’t work the extent of your advice?”

  “Oh, I never said it wasn’t going to work. If I thought you were just another pot hole in her path, I wouldn’t be wasting my breath, Emerson.” She broke into a smile unexpectedly. “I saw that picture Skeeter has of the two of you. The one where she’s lying on your back reading? That’s the cutest stinking thing I’ve ever seen by the way, but more importantly it speaks volumes for her relationship with you.”

  “How’s that?”

  Steph shrugged. “Cal hates excessive contact. Super possessive about her personal space. I’m talking, like, I’ve seen her freak out when Tyler pulled her over to sit on his lap because he thought he was being cute or something. I heard about that shit for the next three days. And I was there when it happened, so it’s not like I needed a recount of the event or anything. Anyway, her mom says she’s always been that way. Even as a kid.” She was giving me that look, the one with the raised brows and big eyes, like she had just made her point and was waiting for me to have my ‘A-ha’ moment. Only I was too busy thinking about all the times I’d crashed into Liss’s personal space since she’d shown up in Kentucky a few days ago. I’d inadvertently invaded her body countless times in countless ways, starting with taking her hand to lead the way and ending with her body pressed to mine in the kitchen that morning.

  “I don’t think I’m getting the message here, Steph. I’ve been all up in her space ever since she got here.”

  “That’s exactly my point. She’s comfortable with you. She trusts you. She shares her space with you.” She picked up the folders she’d been searching through and held them to her chest preparing to leave. “I’m thinking maybe that little girl she’s got locked away deep down inside hasn’t gotten very far with her fairy tale because the whole damn world’s been telling her to look for a prince, when really, all she wants is a cowboy.”

  Chapter 10

  Friday and my mother couldn’t get here soon enough. I’d finally pinned her down for a conversation several hours after I finished talking to Savannah.

  “As always, I bow to the master. Having the wedding here at the lake house was genius.”

  “Then what’s with the underlying tone of surprise?” My mother had her own version of the sweet girl giggle. Maybe it was a southern thing.

  “Well, at first I thought you were just being lazy. Or maybe you just didn’t have enough connections in Kentucky to get some hoity toity hall at such late notice. I mean, I know it’d be a one phone call fix back home, but they’re probably not going out of their way to kiss your ass out here.”

  “Watch your language, Cal. I’m still your mother. And I’ll have you know, people are always happy to kiss my ass no matter where I go. It’s a nice ass, even at my age.” I heard a quiet gulp. Wine time.

  “I have to know. Is Jack there with you? Is he the one uncorking your bottle for you every night?” I was fully aware that he was gay, but I couldn’t resist.

  As expected, my mother gasped dramatically. “Calista, I’m not sure I appreciate what you’re implying.”

  “Oh please, Ma. We all need to get corked from time to time.” I laughed as I wandered over to my bed and fell back onto the mattress.

  “Yes, I hear you’ve been getting your corking done on this trip,” my mother said coyly.

  “Don’t get too excited. I sent Tyler packing the second he showed up,” I laughed.

  “I wasn’t talking about Tyler, Cal. I was referring to Emerson.”

  I shot up straight from my bed. “Who have you been talking to?” Had to have been Noonie. Although, she didn’t really know enough to imply that I was getting corked by anyone.

  “Who do you think? Noonie. You really need to watch yourself around her. That nosy old goat has her eyes on everyone. And don’t think for a moment when you’re whispering about how cute you think he is, she can’t hear you. That woman has better hearing than an owl hunting in the dark of night. And she’ll squeal louder than a pig on slaughter day the second she has someone to tell.”

  “Um, you do realize you just made three animal references about your own mother, don’t you? And, two of them were farm related. Slaughter day? What is happening to you?” I thought I even detected a slight twang in her voice toward the end there.

  “Never mind that. I want to hear more about you and Emerson. I’ve been waiting for the sequel to that story for long enough. Now let’s hear it.”

  “Why does everyone keep doing that? Acting like Emerson and I have some great romance written in the stars. Like we fell in love when we were kids or something. Emerson was sixteen. If he had fallen for a six year old that would have been a little sick, no?” I was well aware that I had been in love with him at six. And I could even understand why everyone would think that I would be falling for him again now. What I couldn’t wrap my brain around was why everyone was so sure that he would feel the same. Obviously, I hoped this time around he would. And he was certainly acting like it was a possibility. But, that was in no way magic related. It wasn’t some epic soul mate tale of long lost lovers re-uniting. It was just a matter of a guy seeing a girl and thinking there might be something there. Right?

  “You don’t understand, Cal. You were too little, you wouldn’t have seen it. And neither would Emerson. Even at sixteen he wouldn’t have been able to recognize what everyone else could clearly observe between the two of you. It wasn’t about
falling in love. It was a connection. This strange, and inexplicable connection. And it wasn’t just you being adorable and experiencing your first crush. Emerson was just as pulled in by you. And it wasn’t sick or perverted in any way. It was sweet. Kind. Like you both recognized something in each other you didn’t know in anyone else. I can’t explain it, Cal. But we all knew something happened that summer. And I think many of us have been waiting and wondering if your paths would cross again as adults and what that connection would mean to you then.”

  My mother, the hopeless romantic. How could anyone argue with her when it came to love? She could sell a heart to the Grinch faster than a heart surgeon could sell one to a transplant patient.

  “Ma. You can’t do this. You can’t drown me in all of your fairy tale crap. I’m already busy trying not to get sucked into my own.” I sighed loudly. “Yes, there is something happening between Emerson and me. And yes, I am just as tempted to jump on the soul mate bandwagon, but the reality is, we hardly know each other and we live in completely different worlds. And…”

  “And what?”

  “And I’m scared enough as it is.”

  My mother was quiet for some time.

  “How can you be scared? You’re with Emerson. You’d follow him anywhere if he held out his hand for you to take.”

  I had nothing to counter with. Maybe because I was too afraid of what she’d come up with next if I tried to argue it any further.

  Thankfully, my lack of response went down in her book as submission and we were able to move on to other topics. Such as Savannah’s wedding. My mother confirmed that she would in fact be on a flight the next morning, so I was keeping my fingers crossed that this time, she would show. As often as Steph and I had given each other high fives and called each other the rock stars of wedding planning that afternoon after having successfully tasted cake and selected more wood structures to go with the arbor, we both knew we didn’t really know shit about what we were doing.

  Sure, for a brief moment it seemed like we had played a big part in bringing together the basics required to put on a good show, but all the other stuff, all the tedious little technicalities my mother could count off in her sleep, were completely beyond our scope of knowledge. Not to mention, my mother employed a staff of nearly twenty people. They were obviously coming to work every day to do something. And whatever that was, we certainly hadn’t played any part in it.

  No doubt my mother would bring her favorite little minion, Jack, along and he would have everything done in no time. He’d steal our rock star status right out from under us, but it was a sacrifice I was prepared to make. At least we’d still be able to take credit for the dress. Which still made us wedding day heroes in my book.

  For the time being, all of my machine sewing was done and I was back to busying myself with the mind numbing task of attaching hundreds of little beads by hand. Beads were my nemesis. And while I hated them, I sort of loved them, too. There was no denying the elegance and beauty in the beaded details. Nor could I refute the fact that they served as a major creative outlet in terms of design possibilities. So, while I loved the beginning and the end of beadwork, it was the middle and most unavoidable aspect of attaching them, I sincerely detested.

  I was about a third of the way done with the back piece when I heard a knock on the door.

  “Come in,” I mumbled through the needle I was holding in between my teeth.

  It was Emerson.

  “Were you planning on breaking for dinner?”

  “Probably. Why? What time is it?” I searched the room for a clock but wasn’t familiar enough with the space yet to know where to look.

  Emerson grinned. “Almost eleven.”

  I spit out the needle. “Are you kidding me? I’ve been up here for over six hours?”

  He nodded and stepped all the way into the room. He hadn’t come empty handed either. In his left hand he was holding a small bottle of mineral water while the right was carrying a large plate covered in several slices of pizza.

  “Steph ordered dinner in. Said you’d like it.”

  “Steph does know what I like.” I had to smirk thinking about our previous conversation. “Thanks.”

  He handed me the plate and sat down in the small love seat across from me. I noticed he was freshly showered and even clean shaven, revealing a small scar on his chin I hadn’t seen before.

  “What happened there?” I asked, about to take a bite.

  He reached up and rubbed the area with two fingers. “Met with the wrong end of a beer bottle.”

  “How exactly does something like that happen?” I asked, my curiosity piqued.

  Emerson leaned back and settled into the cushions and I instantly felt happy knowing he would be staying for at least a little while.

  “Well, this probably doesn’t apply to everyone, but in my case, the bottle and I met during an argument with my ex-fiancée.”

  I almost choked on my pizza. Then I kinda wished I had so I wouldn’t be able to hurl up what I had already eaten. “You were engaged?”

  “I was. Does that matter?”

  “No.” Yes! “Anyway, you were saying about the bottle and your ex-“ I couldn’t get myself to say the word.

  “I came home one night, found her wasted out of her goddamned mind, which wasn’t unusual, and when I went to take the bottle from her, she fought me. The bottle got smashed and next thing I knew she was coming at me with it. Got me in the thigh pretty good, too.” He automatically reached down to touch the spot just above his knee.

  I was almost afraid to ask. “So what happened to her?”

  “She tried to get help. Few times. Then, when she finally got clean, she left.”

  It sounded so simple. It also sounded really fucking complicated.

  “Oh.” I was twisting my fingers trying to decide how much more I wanted to know. “When did all of this happen?”

  “We were together off and on all throughout our twenties, but it ended for good about four years ago.” He sounded strangely callous as he spoke and I couldn’t help but wonder if it was because he felt nothing or rather that he felt too much. But I wasn’t about to ask him to clarify.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Emerson stared blankly across the room. “Don’t be. She sure as hell isn’t.”

  It was the first time I’d ever seen that side of him. I’d thought I’d seen little signs of something, some sort of pain in his eyes even in spite of his usual carefree exterior, but I had just assumed it was something normal. And by normal I meant stupid stuff, like the way my parents’ divorce had screwed me up. Surely his parents had fucked him up in one way or another. I mean, didn’t they all? But no. This was no simple matter of mommy and daddy issues. This was some serious troubled shit. And most of it had taken place during the years of his life I had yet to experience in mine. Crap. It was like getting hit in the face with a frying pan TWICE. It was too much. My little Emerson fantasy was crumbling faster than a stale cookie, and it was leaving behind a nasty aftertaste.

  “Hey.” The quiet tone of his voice pulled me from the mental tornado ripping through my mind and leaving nothing but more questions in its wake. “I didn’t mean to do that, just drop it all on you without warning. I mean, I knew you’d find out, this just isn’t how I planned on telling you. But you asked…I didn’t want you to think I was trying to hide anything from you.”

  My eyes focused again from their glazed state of waking coma and I could see him clearly. He wasn’t relaxing on the sofa anymore. He was leaning forward on his knees, his hands folded, popping his knuckles nervously. He was worried.

  Without thinking any further, I stood from my chair, crossed over to where he was, took his hands in mine and knelt down in front of him.

  “In the interest of maintaining this full disclosure thing we’ve got going, all of what you just said basically scared the shit out of me. I’m just a fucking kid, compared to you. I freaked out when my boyfriend wanted a drawer at my place, I’ve cer
tainly never entertained the idea of getting married. And the biggest issues we ever had were in regard to his inability to understand my need for punctuality and my inability to be a little less self-centered. I’ve never dealt with anything even comparable to addictions.” I paused but kept my eyes locked onto his and suddenly my mother’s words came rushing back. “Truth is, everything you just told me basically makes me want to run back to the city screaming. I’m a coward. I don’t do brave things… Except when I’m with you.” I hated it when she was right.

  Emerson kissed my forehead, the tip of my nose and then found his way to my lips while slowly pulling me up toward him until I was sitting on his lap, my arms and legs wrapped tightly around him.

  “The last thing I want to do is scare you,” he whispered. “Feels like we’re having some very serious conversations already for two people who probably ought to just be having fun.”

  “So this is just for fun?” I broke away to see his face.

  “I said it ought to be.” His lips were reaching up for mine. “But I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since I first saw you again in the back of that barn, with your hair blowing in the breeze and those dark brown eyes blazing at me. God, you took my breath away just standing there. Anyway, I’m here, still barely breathing, so it’s probably more than just fun for me.”

  I held off his kiss a second longer. “Probably?”

  His lips curved up playfully. ”Definitely.” Then there was no more escaping him. Nor did I want to as his lips crushed against mine and his arms wrapped around me tightly. I was back in that place, that little pocket of Emerson that seemed to be there just to hold me in it and I couldn’t help but wonder what he did with the space when I wasn’t there to fill it.

  “I should probably let you get back to work before I get carried away here and find ways to distract you for the rest of the night,” he murmured against my mouth, his hot breath brushing my skin, inviting me back for more in spite of what his words had just suggested.