Back Where I Belong: A Wonderfully Witty and Completely Absorbing Love Story (Susan Wade Series Book 3)

by Virginia Gray

  “They’re gonna!” My mother spouted.

  “And they won’t at the same time. It’s the greatest thing!” Mona gushed, beaming rapturously. Nine months in and still basking in newlywed bliss; I hoped it would never end for her.

  “Well, that’s about as good as I can do,” Dottie finally announced, spinning my chair so I could see the back.

  Mona’s eyes grew huge, and she gasped. “Susan, your hair’s fittin’ for a princess. Pete’s gonna die!”

  Woven into a mounded bun, the mass of soft, artfully curled pieces seemed a romantic and nearly living thing. Strands were left loose to tickle my neck and vaguely frame my face. Scrutinizing it from all angles, I couldn’t disagree with Mona’s assessment.

  “Nice job, Dottie,” I said, working hard to hide my astonishment.

  She snorted. “Yours is not the first hair I’ve ever done.” After lacquering it with an entire can of hairspray, she said, “Now, for your make-up.”

  “No! I mean, I’ll probably sweat it off during lunch. I’ll just do it myself.” I didn’t care if she had earned a damnable pink Cadillac; she was not touching my face with her cosmetics products! She hmphed me and began collecting her curling iron and various instruments of torture. After removing my plastic cape, she crooked her finger at my mother, who was her next victim.

  “I’ll help you with your make-up,” Piper whispered in my ear a few minutes later. “I’ve been workin’ on doing mine just like yours for months now. I think I’ve gotten pretty good at it. ’Course I can’t afford your brands, yet, but give me time.” Her determined expression made me smile.

  Aylward Enterprises was a long-standing INTech customer. During my stint as Bob’s indentured servant, I’d gotten to know the general manager fairly well. After Piper graduated last June, I’d dropped by for a quick just checking in meeting, my underlying mission: to assess employment opportunities and drop Piper’s name. After writing her a killer recommendation letter and honing her interviewing skills to a razor-sharp point, she’d landed a very nice entry-level position there. As my protégé, we now enjoyed monthly business lunches. My only real fear was that she might one day turn into me. And that was not necessarily a good thing.

  “Thanks. I’d like that.”

  18

  The Devil’s Curse

  Centenary Methodist Church sat imposingly under a crystal blue sky stubbornly refusing to be mottled in any way. The wedding motorcade parked on the street in front of the lovely historic structure. Yesterday’s rehearsal had removed all fears that the ceremony itself would go without a hitch. Of course, yesterday I was only focused on details: where to stand, when to hand off my flowers, etc. Today, faced with the vast eternity lying before me, those details meant nothing.

  Mona had pre-ordered lunch from New Bern’s one and only delicatessen, and it now lay across a long buffet table in the refectory. Running on adrenaline and a sleeve of saltine crackers, I was nearly starved, but just as I lifted the fork to my lips, Mona glanced at me sternly and cleared her throat. I rolled my eyes and dutifully bowed my head.

  “Dear Lord, please shower Pete and Susan with love and joy. Please fill their home with laughter and happiness. And when it’s time, dear Lord, please give them the most perfect and beautiful children—”

  Snatching my hand from hers, I launched into an epic coughing fit. What the hell? How dare she say such horrible things? And on my wedding day! When my breath returned, I glared at her for all I was worth, and then thrust my hand back in hers with a cautioning look. She raised an eyebrow before bowing her head again. “Please keep them well and healthy all the days of their lives, and let their hearts be one until you take them from this earth. Amen.”

  “Amen,” the entire group repeated.

  “Amen,” I muttered, my appetite destroyed.

  ♥

  While the women cleared the table and readied the room for its next function, I went in search of a few moments of quiet. The lower level was a spine with tiny Sunday School classrooms branching off like stunted ribs. Children’s drawings littered the cement block walls, gradually giving way to youth group bulletin boards featuring photos of mission trips and community service activities. As I ventured further, the adult rooms took over. There were reminders of upcoming social events, prayer meeting topics, and choir announcements. Colorful boxes on neat tables sat ready to accept foodbank donations, money to support an Africa village, and eyeglass frames to be refurbished and sent to Guatemala. There was a peaceful sense of goodness here that pulled me out of my head.

  “Nervous?” And pushed me right back in again.

  I turned so quickly, I nearly launched into vertigo. “What?”

  “I love these days,” Mrs. Hewitt, the minister’s wife, remarked. “The calm before the storm. The excitement of it all. The blessed union of souls.”

  “Souls?” I murmured. “I thought it was hearts.”

  She laughed. “Are y’all in love?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Then your hearts are already joined. You don’t need people prayin’ over you for that.” She waved her hand dismissively.

  “I’m not following you.”

  “You’re comin’ together today to commit your lives to one another. To be joined in marriage means you’re pledging more than just your hearts. And that’s maybe why you’re walking up and down the hall, wringing your hands.”

  “I was just counting all the ways I could screw—mess it up. Sorry.”

  She giggled. “Child, you’re not talkin’ to Mother Mary here. But I’m glad that’s what you’re worryin’ about. It means you’re lookin’ down the line, and you’re willing to accept responsibility. I’m sure Pete’s doin’ that as well.”

  “You think?”

  “Y’all are not children, though I’ve known Pete since he was one. He wouldn’t enter into something as important as marriage without considerin’ it thoroughly.”

  “No, I suppose not.”

  “Susan, love is a powerful thing, but when love’s early passion burns itself out—and it will, what’s left in a true union is an unfailing friendship and a deep, mutual respect for one another that goes way beyond the physical. The love you’ll know then is an outpourin’ from your soul. It’s what’ll make you want to put his needs before your own, what makes you hurt when he hurts and feel joy when he does…and vice versa. Before long ya’ll’ll realize that livin’ without each other can’t be done.”

  I shook my head ruefully. “I may have already learned that lesson.”

  She looked at me knowingly, reminding me once again what a small place this really was. “Maybe so.”

  “But if what you’re saying is true, then why do so many marriages fail?”

  “I didn’t say marriage was easy. Fallin’ in love’s what’s easy,” she said with a laugh. “Ya hardly get a choice most of the time. And in the glow of it, a lot a people rush down the aisle, thinkin’ it’ll always be that way. It won’t. Marriages survive through hard work and perseverance. See, when the fairytale part ends and reality sets in, suddenly y’all’ve got bills to pay, big decisions to make, maybe even hardships to face. And you won’t always agree on everything.” She smiled mischievously. “In fact, I can promise you won’t. You may have married for love, but if both of y’all aren’t willin’ to bend and find ways to compromise, then that’s where the trouble begins. That’s about the time a lot of people give up.”

  “I can’t imagine ever giving up on Pete.”

  She smiled. “I can’t imagine that boy ever givin’ up on you, either.” She patted me on the shoulder. “I’ll see yew in the sanctuary.”

  “There you are!” Mona said, her voice echoing down the hallway. “I was about to send out a search party. C’mon, girl. Time to get you married.”

  ♥

  After Piper put the finishing touches on my face, and I was properly cinched in my corset, Mona entered my make-shift dressing room, carrying my gown like the priceless object that it was. W
e carefully removed it from its protective sheath, surprised to find it hadn’t suffered so much as a wrinkle. I needed to send Saks a note. Caught in the slices of sunlight cutting through the window, the material nearly glowed. As Mona helped me into it, the silky fabric caressed my body, reminding me why, amongst other reasons, I’d chosen it. I sucked in as my mother and she began the great chore of fastening buttons.

  “Honey, suck in a little, these last couple are givin’ me trouble.”

  “I am sucking in.”

  “Well, suck in more!” my mother demanded.

  “Whew. Okay, you can relax now,” Mona said.

  I dropped my shoulders, feeling a tingling excitement. Then I realized the tingling was not so much excitement as a general lack of oxygen. “I can’t breathe!” I gasped, starbursts flaring behind my eyelids. “Fix the buttons!”

  “They are fixed. Susie Wade, did you order your dress this tight on purpose?” my mother asked accusingly.

  “No. It fit perfectly in March,” I wheezed.

  “Good Lord, that’s skintight,” Dottie announced, waltzing in. “Yew do know you’re gettin’ married in a church, right?” Mounting the plastic chair she’d parked in front of me, her giant bosom squashed my face.

  “You haven’t eaten a thing since your last fittin’,” Mona announced to all who had ears. “Surely ya haven’t gained one ounce.” She’d been watching me like a hawk, huffing every day at my lunch of a single nonfat yogurt. “And don’t think I didn’t notice ya only took three bites of your salad earlier.”

  “Well, after you slap the devil’s curse on someone, you can’t expect them to have much of an appetite.” She scowled at me.

  Had I been keeping tight reins on my diet? Who wouldn’t? But this two month’s worth of salary had fit perfectly in Philly. Sipping air like aged wine, I wondered suddenly if that little Yoda woman had done something spiteful after I’d gone. I’d given her a fantastic tip, dammit.

  “How am I even getting out of it?”

  “Honey, that’s Pete’s problem.” Mona then giggled. “It was near the funniest thing I ever heard—Jimbo gruntin’ and huffin’ and carryin’ on, fiddling with the buttons. It took him nearly fifteen minutes to get me out that dress, and me about to melt in the heat. I was afraid he’d get so impatient he’d take the scissors to it, the poor thing. Once he got me out, I fell over laughin’. ’Course, that didn’t last long.” She blushed furiously and looked at the floor.

  “This tiny piece of veilin’s not gonna cover you one bit,” Dottie interrupted, holding it in the air like a piece of dirty underwear.

  “And I still don’t care!” The wide weave of crinoline, dotted with pearl beads, was designed to cover just my eyes. It was simple and elegant, and as traditional as I was willing to go.

  She huffed and began acupuncturing my scalp. “It’s an unveiln’. The groom’s supposed to lift it up and see his bride’s face.”

  “Pete’s seen my face before. It’s not like he’s going to get any surprises.”

  Dottie jabbed another pin in my scalp. “It don’t matter much, anyway, I s’pose. Y’all are already livin’ together.”

  “We’re engaged! It’s the same thing. And when did you become the moral majority?”

  After a few more moments of wrestling with it, she shook her head and said, “I can’t get this pinned right.”

  “Then staple it, dammit,” I growled.

  Mona gasped, her glare nearly melting my nail polish. “Susan, we are in the house of the Lord!” I rolled my eyes to the heaven I was never getting into. “Taylor, I do believe that dress brings out the color in your eyes,” Mona suddenly gushed, no doubt trying to steer the conversation back to a G rating.

  Taylor entered the room more fully, her face scarlet. “Ya really think so, Miss Mona?”

  Mona smiled brightly. “I really do.”

  Though Priscilla and Piper were gorgeous blondes who could make any color look—hiss—amazing, Taylor was a fiery redhead just like her mother. “Black would have looked even better,” I whispered, smirking at Mona.

  The dress skirmish had nearly required NATO intervention, but if anyone could negotiate a peace treaty, Mona was the girl.

  “Black doesn’t feel right,” she’d challenged after I’d shown her pictures of the final contestants. Shopping for them had been the only sunny part of January’s budget trip. Thinking about Greg Foster, I shivered involuntarily.

  “It’s formal!” I’d said.

  “It’s spring!” she’d retorted. “Spring’s for pinks and yellows and such. Maybe a pretty cotton print.”

  “No! No prints. Holy crap, Mona, Lily Pulitzer is not invited to my wedding!” I’d snarled, stomping out of her office.

  “What about a deep rose? That’s tasteful,” she’d offered, trailing behind me.

  “Still pink, Mona.”

  She huffed in frustration.

  I had serious issues with the color pink; pink meant Southern, pink meant fragile, pink meant unprofessional. My college roommate’s threat still pinged around my skull: If you ever wear pink again, I’ll slit your damn throat! I snorted to myself. I’m pretty sure I hadn’t even owned pink underwear since then. Living with Lexi had been both psychologically scarring and utterly wonderful. I crossed my fingers, hoping she’d actually show.

  “Lilac. That’d work.” Mona had hit me with that ridiculous suggestion later the same day.

  “No!”

  “What about seafoam green—or maybe even turquoise? I know we’d be gettin’ into summer shades, but—”

  “Black. You’ll thank me later. It’s very slimming, and everyone looks good in it. Plus, you’ll be able to wear it again.”

  “To a funeral!” she’d squealed, flying into a rage. “Black is a death color. It’s good for tuxedos and death. Nothin’ else.”

  “Lingerie,” I’d offered suggestively, stoking her fire.

  She gaped at me then narrowed her eyes. “Ya might as well plop us all in harlot red.”

  I’d smiled deviously. That sounded just inflammatory enough to spin the heads of every woman in Eastern North Carolina. Hell, we might even get mentioned in The Sun Journal’s “What Not to Wear” section.

  “Hmm, I do like a nice red.”

  Mona gasped. “Stop bein’ hateful, Susan. Let me see…” She’d flipped another page in the bridal magazine she carried around like the Bible. “Peach is pretty. No one ever complained about a nice peach.”

  “Peach is the bastard child of pink, so, no.”

  “Blue. There are lots of hues of it, and it’ll look good on everybody. You’ve got to consider us all, ya know.” When I shook my head, her gaze became calculating. In fact, she could have passed for Pete’s twin at that moment. “Blue’s your mamma’s favorite color. You should choose it to honor her.”

  My jaw literally hit the floor. She’d just whipped out a bucketful of guilt and dumped it right over my head. I crossed my arms and glared at her, our Mexican standoff epic. I growled. She hissed. I stomped my foot. She stomped hers harder. Finally, I sagged in defeat. “Fine. Blue. Just make it a good blue! I don’t want some crappy, cheap-looking blue.”

  Channeling Pete once more, she’d slapped on a self-satisfied grin. “I’ll find ya the best blue there ever was.” And with that, she’d swished back across the hall.

  I’d like to tell you she’d chosen poorly, but credit where due: the women looked amazing.

  Facing the full-length mirror Mona had lugged over from her very own bedroom, I analyzed myself from various angles.

  During the commotion, the rest of my bridesmaids had spilled into the room, and as I turned to them, they sighed as one.

  “Susan, you’re beautiful!” Piper said.

  “Perfect,” Mona whispered.

  “Pretty as a plum,” Anita added.

  “Plums turn into prunes, yew know!” Dottie inserted with a cackle. Then she looked over my shoulder. “Not bad, but you could use some jewelry. Wanna borrow somethi
n’ of mine?”

  “My earrings!” I screeched in horror.

  “Where’d you last see them?” Mom asked, rushing back in.

  “My jewelry box, at home. I can’t walk down the aisle without them!”

  Dottie glanced at her watch. “We surely don’t have time to drive to Atlantic Beach and back.”

  “You don’t understand. Pete gave them to me specifically for our wedding. They’re Cartier!”

  Mona calmly walked to her purse, pulled out a tiny velvet pouch, and dropped it in my hand. “He said you and earrings don’t get on so well, so he gave ’em to me yesterday. Just in case.”

  “What would I do without you?”

  “Fall to pieces, I s’pose,” she said.

  Dottie glanced at her watch and switched into wedding-Nazi mode. “Y’all finish up whatever y’all are doin’. It’s nearly showtime.”

  The women scattered like rats, except for Mona, whose arm I had hold of. “I never imagined I’d have a friend so incredibly wonderful. I need you to know how very dear you are to me.”

  “Susan—”

  “Anita!” I yelled.

  She poked her head in the door and tossed the small pouch to me.

  “These are for you. I want you to wear them today. And I hope someday you’ll be able to pass them down to your own daughter.”

  She gave me a questioning look as I carefully dumped the contents into her hand. “Oh, Susan!” She stared down at the pearls, transfixed.

  I’d seen a display necklace in the store where I’d purchased Pete’s cufflinks. The pearls weren’t monstrous, but they were perfectly matched; I’d chosen every single one myself. She deserved no less.

  “Here, let me fix the clasp.”

  “It’s just so beautiful,” she said, marveling at her reflection.

  I smiled to myself. “It looks like it was made for you.”

  She turned and gripped my shoulders. “I’ll cherish it forever.”

  “And that’s how long I’ll cherish our friendship. Now go, before you make me ruin my make-up.”