The Kindred Soul of Nora Faye: The Tethered Soul Series, Book 3

by Laura C. Reden

“The second memory I have is when he would teach me math until my brain would explode. Seriously, it exploded all the time. And at that point, Easton would just do the work for me so that we could go play. Sorry, Mom!” I laughed, and Easton nodded, confirming the story to be true.

  “But the third memory that sticks out in my mind, even more than when he tried to kill me in my lactose rich dessert, and still, more than when he pushed me to be a better man . . . And ultimately giving up on me . . . was when a little girl moved in next door.” Tanner said, and my heart warmed. My friends and family started to look back at me once more, as this was not a story many of them had heard.

  “You see, this was no regular little girl. She was fun! Even when she wore too much pink. She and Easton became best friends, and I often stayed home while they played to finish my homework. Funny how Easton stopped doing my homework when he saw how that played out for him, huh?” The crowd laughed. I pinched my cheeks, which were on fire.

  “Yup, you’d never believe that Easton found his wife at eight years old. But he did.” Friends and family looked around, shocked. My parents and closest friends nodded, confirming it was, in fact, a true story. I smiled, thinking they didn’t know the half of it.

  “Easton told me so after the very first day he met her; he said that he would marry her. I thought he had finally gone crazy, but it actually happened. Just three short weeks later! Yup, I have the picture to prove it! Officiated by a rabbit, but nonetheless, they married in her backyard that summer. And when we moved away—and Easton did my homework again, no surprise there—Easton’s heart broke a little. You see, he never gave up looking for his bride!”

  The crowd awed, and I leaned over to kiss Easton on the cheek. He moved swiftly, and our lips met. “No girl was good enough for Easton in high school. Or so he said. He matured late, and I see his muscles have yet to come in. But hey, your voice finally dropped, am I right, buddy?” Tanner gave Easton a thumbs up, causing Easton to sink into the seat a little. I lost it, laughing so hard I was sure my cheeks would cramp. Easton chuckled, shaking his head at his brother, then slowly and reluctantly returned his thumbs up. Tanner continued.

  “So, I’ll wrap this story up for those of you who don’t know it. Easton changed his name and moved out of the Randolf household as soon as he was legally allowed to do so. Soon after that, he stopped taking our calls and basically vanished. Until one day, some three years later, he called to tell me he found his bride.” I placed my hand over my heart as it melted in my chest. I’d never heard this side of the story.

  “And slowly, from that day on, Easton started answering his phone when I would call. He came back into my life, and I don’t think that would have happened if it weren’t for his lady here. So, let's raise our glasses,” Everyone raised a glass of champagne. “And cheers to the fact that Easton was too wimpy as a kid to drown me in a bowl of ice cream!” I nearly spit out my champagne. “Oh, and cheers to Becca too, because I think she’s pretty great!” I clapped ferociously, standing up. Easton rose to his feet too and started a slow clap. I loved every second.

  I stood when Tanner approached our table and kissed him on the cheek. The smell of Tequila strong on his breath. I wondered how much he had to drink to deliver his speech and how far he veered from his original one. Easton slapped his back while he gave him a quick embrace. He said something in Tanner’s ear as I placed my chilly hands on my warm cheeks, trying to massage out the tension from laughter. “Oh, I can’t wait until he gets married,” Easton muttered. And I laughed all over again. Only stopping when I noticed my mom had taken the stage.

  “Hello, everyone. What a wonderful speech, thank you. Um, I’m Becca’s mom. Um, wow, this barn must have a great antenna because this is a great reception!” A bark lodged in my throat, making a weird sound as I grabbed Easton’s leg underneath the table. Few laughed, but mostly out of discomfort. I bit my lip, waiting for her attempt to recover.

  “Um, well, I’ve been preparing this toast for a long time now, so I hope it’s not burnt!” Mom said.

  “Oh, no!” escaped me. Easton burst out in laughter as my mom looked frantically around the room. Second-hand embarrassment had never been so real.

  “Becca is such a beautiful daughter. Loving and kind. She’s the kind of girl you don’t worry about introducing to your parents. That’s why she didn’t introduce us to Easton’s parents until twenty minutes ago. . .”

  I shot Easton a look, and we both said it. “Five!”

  “Five, this is definitely number five!”

  The speech went on in what was intended to be not only funny but loving. Very loving. It just never quite went anywhere at all. Not before my dad interrupted with a speech of his own. And he could only get a few words in before breaking down and crying into the microphone. And it didn’t end there. No, speeches came from many of my bridesmaids, too. But the best one came from Brooklyn, which wasn’t a speech at all, but a complete shutdown.

  “Thank you for all the lovely speeches. Now, if I could get all the single ladies up here, Mrs. Green is going to throw the bouquet!” she took the microphone with her, which I could only secretly thank her for. I’d have to tell her how much I loved her for that when the time was right.

  “Thank god that’s over!” I laughed, shielding my face behind my hand. “My poor parents!” I said.

  Easton laughed, “Please tell me someone got that on video!” Easton peered around the room, “Are we having this taped?” he asked.

  “No, probably should have, though.”

  “Go throw your bouquet. Let’s see if we can get number six,” Easton said, nudging me out of my seat.

  I chuckled, standing up. I grabbed my bouquet of muted mauves, off whites, and mustard yellow flowers. It was every bit the vintage look I was going for. I hated to throw such a beautiful bouquet, but I couldn’t argue with tradition.

  I stood with my back to the bridesmaids and a few other women, mostly young. I was happy to see my mom hadn’t joined. “One, two, three!” I threw the flowers over head with as much might as I had. A loud thud sounded, followed by gasps from the crowd. I spun just in time to see flower petals floating down from the large industrial-sized fan. Mustard, mauve, and cream petals began to litter the dance floor. In the tragedy's wake, it was almost beautiful.

  A moment of stillness passed before someone screamed, “It’s mine!” and took off running to the back of the barn where the bulk of the bouquet had spat from the fan. My eyes met Easton’s as a dozen single ladies ran to the back of the room. Two toppled over each other. Chairs were knocked over, and a table cloth pulled, sending several glass champagne flutes crashing to the ground. A few grunts ensued before Payton raised her arm high and mighty, thrusting the tattered bouquet into the air. About a third of the flowers were missing, leaving cut stems in their place, but surprisingly, the rest had held up pretty well. I clapped as Grace pulled Terra off the floor. I snickered and held six fingers up to Easton from across the room.

  Chapter 8

  Six wedding fails. That’s how many it took to make the perfect wedding. By the time the sparklers were lit and our friends and family formed a tunnel for us to pass through, Easton and I were ready to take our love somewhere more private.

  “Ready, Mrs. Green?” Easton asked, taking my hand.

  “Ready!” I said, grabbing as much of my lace dress as possible and lifting it off the ground. We sprinted through the sparklers, a beautiful whirlwind of bouncing, flickering lights. And by the time we reached the end of the tunnel, Tanner and Brooklyn had shaken champagne bottles and popped them over head. Champaign rained down on us, taking me back to the clearing that overlooked the Truly River on the evening we first wed. I looked to Easton as we ran to the car, and I wondered if he had lived in the constant realm of déjà vu, in how I had today.

  Easton opened my door, and I crawled into the back seat. Scooping my lace train off the ground before closing the door. Easton ran around the back of the car. With a slam of his door, we
were one step closer to finally being alone. The driver pulled away, and I kissed Easton’s champagne-soaked lips as the wedding cans clanked behind the car. We watched the glow of the sparklers disappear into the night as the wedding had finally come to an end. “Success!” I said.

  “It really was,” Easton said. “But the best is yet to come.”

  I raised my brows. “That’s a big promise,” I said.

  “Well, as you may have heard . . . I eventually hit puberty so . . .” I giggled, causing Easton to wag his brows. We spent the rest of the ride to the airport caught between lusting over each other or laughing at something that had happened at the wedding. And in no time, we were waiting to board the plane.

  Several people had come up to us saying “Congratulations,” because I was the only one in the whole airport wearing a wedding gown as far as I could see. I itched to take it off, but I feared it might be cutting it too close. And missing our flight was one wedding fail that I didn’t want to come to fruition.

  “I don’t know how we got here so late. I thought we were good on time,” Easton said, checking his watch.

  “I think our flight moved up to an earlier slot. We should have checked it this morning,” I said, gripping my luggage handle and yanking it off the train of my gown.

  “Should have. Guess I was too excited to see you in this dress to think about it,” Easton said, his eyes trailing down my figure. I smiled.

  “Congratulations! You look so pretty!” A woman said as she passed by.

  “Thank you!” I said, blushing. “I need to get out of this dress,” I hissed to Easton.

  “Flight 3838, ready to board!”

  Easton looked at me with large, round eyes. “Do you think you have time?”

  I looked nervously to the passengers lining up for the flight and then back down the way we came in. Not only were the restrooms far away, but I doubted I could take the dress off by myself. “I don’t think so! What am I going to do? I can’t wear this thing for a nine-hour flight! I’m suffocating as it is!” I fanned my face, feeling the panic rise.

  “It’s OK. No worries. You can take it off on the plane.” I shot him a look of doubt, causing him to follow up with, “I promise. I’ll help you.” I nodded. Unconvinced, but accepting that I had no other choice. We got in line, and it moved swiftly. My suitcase rolling over the lace train of my dress again. Easton bent over and picked it up, holding it while I walked. “See, I can help!” he said. I smiled, thankful for all he did.

  We funneled onto the plane, taking our seats over the wing. Easton placed our luggage overhead, and I sat next to the window. “Do you want to take it off now?” he asked.

  I looked around. People were still filing onto the plane. “I don’t think we're supposed to use the bathroom until the plane gets in the air,” I said. Easton took a seat next to me and patted my leg. “Thanks, but . . . I can’t wait fifteen more minutes,” I told him.

  Ten minutes later, and I couldn’t wait any longer. The plane hadn’t even begun to move, and I was on the verge of hyperventilating. “I’ve got to take it off!” I said, standing. Not a single thought could process through my head if it didn’t involve ripping this corset off and freeing my lungs. I made it to the back of the plane before getting turned around by the flight attendant.

  “I’m sorry, there’s nothing I can do. You have to wait until the plane is in the air and the seatbelt lights have turned off,” the flight attendant said. I nodded, taking quick, shallow breaths on my way back to my seat. Of course, being afraid of flying wasn’t helping my situation. I would have been nervous normally, but it was the dress that made me feel claustrophobic. I placed my hand on my stomach and tried to slow my breathing.

  “What’s wrong?” Easton asked by the time I got back to my seat, still wearing the dress.

  “They won’t let me in the bathroom!” I crawled over him and plopped down in my seat. He gathered the train of my dress and pulled it out of the walkway, pooling it at my feet.

  Easton took out the brown paper bag in the seat pocket before us. “Here, breath into this.” I protested with my bulging eyes, not wanting to look more ridiculous than I already did. “Just do it!” he said. I followed his orders and began breathing in the bag.

  The flight attendant came by and slipped me two bottles of vodka. “Don’t tell anyone. I’m not supposed to hand these out. But it should take the edge off.”

  “Thank you,” Easton said, taking the bottles. I continued breathing into my brown paper bag, and Easton handed me an uncapped bottle. My eyes scanned his in question. “She’s right. It’ll help,” he said.

  I lowered the bag and sucked down the bottle. Barely able to swallow it all, I coughed as a shiver split down my spine. Easton smiled. “Stop it!” I snapped. My eyes darted to the second bottle. “That one too!” I reached over him, taking the drink from his hand. The clear liquid was even worse the second time, and my reaction was no better. Aftershocks ripped through me like jolts of electricity. Easton smiled, trying hard not to laugh. “Stop that!” I said, picking up the brown bag again and placing it over my mouth.

  Eventually, the plane lifted off the runway. The force pressed me back in my seat, adding even more pressure to my anxiety-ridden chest. My nails dug into Easton’s forearm as he rattled off the most ridiculous statistics I’d ever heard. “Did you know that you are seven times more likely to die of a paper cut than to crash in a plane? And nearly thirty times more likely to witness a real-life mermaid?” He said in all seriousness.

  “What?” I crumpled my paper bag, finally able to breathe. My thoughts were consumed with mermaids as the claustrophobia fell to the wayside. How much had I drunk again? Because one of us was crazy, and I didn’t want it to be me. By the time the seatbelt lights turned off, I was in a different mindset altogether. The fear had become amusing, and the tightness of my dress only a game.

  “Hey, Easton?” I asked. He leaned in, looking up at me from underneath his lashes. “I don’t think I can get this dress off by myself. You're going to need to help me.” The looped buttons were far too complicated for me to manage behind my back. And in a moving cabin, it would be impossible.

  “Sure, anything I can do to help.” Easton peeked at the back of the plane before turning back to me. “You go first, and then I’ll slip in behind you when no one’s looking,” he said.

  I nodded. Every single pair of eyes lifted to me as I passed through the aisle. It was like walking down the aisle in the barn, only this time I didn’t have my father’s strength beside me, and the eyes that stared back were neither proud nor loving. They were strangers, and I had no idea what they were thinking. All I knew was that I needed to get out of this wedding dress as soon as possible. I tightened my grip on the change of clothes in my hand.

  I opened the cabin door and stepped inside. But before closing the door, I saw the lace of my dress’s hem peeking out from under the door. I bent down to pick it up, but the other restroom across the aisle caught my eye. What if Easton had walked into the wrong stall? I smiled, almost wanting to see it happen. But then I left the lace closed the door. This way, there would be no mistaking. I turned to look at myself in the mirror. My hair had not budged one bit from the ceremony, but my makeup had done several things. My lips were bare and lashes naked. I suddenly became more self-conscious for all the thoughts that passed through the passengers’ heads as I walked by.

  A light tap rapped on the door before opening. Easton pushed his way in as quick as a storm. His chest pressed up against mine in the tiny stall, and I felt my heart quicken. My eyes searched his, mere inches from his face. “Uh, it’s a little tight in here,” he said.

  I tried to take a step back, but my heels hit the base of the toilet. The front of my dress yanked me forward. “You’re standing on my dress,” I said, trying to look down.

  Easton picked up his foot but had nowhere to go. He grabbed handfuls of my gown and tried lifting it out from under his feet, nearly knocking me over in the process.
I burst out into laughter, and Easton cupped his hand over my mouth. “Shhh. We have to be quiet,” he whispered. His eyes locked on mine with conviction, but I was far more guilty than being too loud. A smile spread across my face that I could no longer hide.

  “Hey, have you ever heard of the mile high club?” I asked in my most seductive tone. A tone that I was sure could only come out after taking shots on an empty stomach.

  “No. Don’t start that. We have to get you out of the dress and then get back to our seats. Can you turn around?” Easton asked.

  “Would you like that?” I asked, dropping my shoulder.

  “Beck . . .” Easton warned.

  “Yes . . .” I bit my lower lip.

  “Turn around!” Easton said, not having any of it.

  “Ugh, fine!” I tried to spin, but Easton was still on my dress. I nearly toppled over. My hand slammed against the back wall and Easton’s hands tightened around my waist, catching me. Bent over, I turned slowly, giving it one last try. I winked at him. As sexy as I could wink, I did. But when both my eyes closed, I had to try again . . . and again. Why couldn’t I wink? I thought everybody could wink?

  “Beck! Please!” Easton begged. I couldn’t tell if he was annoyed or just taking pity on me, but maybe it was a bit of both.

  “Jesus! Is there nothing I can do to turn you on?” I demanded.

  “Beck, you don’t have to try to turn me on. This just isn’t the place or the time. Damn it, how do you take this thing off?” he hissed.

  “But, mile high club . . .” I whined.

  Easton stilled. The air shifted, growing thick with lust. I knew I had it in me to seduce him. When he couldn’t hold himself back any longer, he slowly leaned forward, his breath hot against the nape of my neck. “Is that what you really want?” he whispered.

  My breath quickened. I was in no position to make decisions. But something inside of me screamed for me to live my life, and I was pretty sure it was the alcohol. “Yes!” I gasped.