by Reid, Penny
Admittedly, I was in a fog, a very happy fog. I felt like I was drifting on this lovely sea, allowing myself to be carried by the current. A beautiful blue sky was above and the sparkling ocean was below.
My face and hair done, I pulled on my bridal lingerie, and Elizabeth helped me with my dress. She was cognizant to keep it away from my face and hair. I emerged, hair and makeup unscathed, and she began the daunting task of fastening the endless row of buttons down my back.
When she finished, she stepped back, her eyes moved up and down, and she said, “Whoa....”
I smiled.
“Whoa,” she said again, clearly impressed.
“Can we see? Are you decent?” Marie poked her head in the room, her eyebrows wagging. Then she gasped. “Oh my…that is…wow.”
The rest of the ladies trailed behind her, and I was gratified to hear their exclamations as they entered. I knew that the most important thing was that I thought I was beautiful, that I was happy with the way I looked.
Still, hearing their praise wasn’t raining on my parade.
A knock sounded on the suite door and Kat left to answer it.
“Where did you get that dress?” Marie’s eyes were wide saucers.
“I borrowed it. It’s by a designer named Donovan Charles.”
Sandra’s mouth fell open.
Ashley said, “Get out!”
Marie said, “No shit?”
And Elizabeth and Fiona said in unison, “Who’s that?”
Before I could answer, Kat reappeared. “Quinn is out here and he wants to talk to you.”
Fiona frowned. “Tell him he’s not allowed. In fact, I’ll tell him he’s not allowed.”
Kat smiled and shook her head. “He said he thought we wouldn’t allow it, so he brought blindfolds for each of you to wear.” She held out a black scarf. The material looked like satin.
Elizabeth smirked. “He’s too clever.”
Sandra also smirked. “And he probably has plans to use those blindfolds later….”
Ashley hit her shoulder and rolled her eyes.
“What?” Sandra glanced around the room. “You know I’m right.”
I chucked, but my stomach was full of butterflies as I accepted the blindfold. Elizabeth tied it over my eyes, careful to avoid messing me up.
Then someone took me by the shoulders and positioned me as they liked.
“Wait here.” Marie said.
I heard them filing out, I heard them teasing Quinn, thought I discerned Elizabeth say something like, “Okay, McHotpants, you get two minutes, and no peeking.”
Then the air in the room shifted, and I knew he was there.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hi,” I said and I smiled. I wanted to see him, to touch him, but the suspense was surprisingly fun.
Someone shouted from the other room. “No touching either! We’re watching you….”
I knew Quinn was probably rolling his eyes, so I laughed.
He waited until I stopped, then he said, “You sound happy.”
I nodded. “I am. I really, really am.”
“So this was a good idea? The big wedding?” He was closer, his voice softer, and my skin broke out into goosebumps.
“Yes.” I breathed. “I think so.”
“Good. I take full credit.”
I laughed again and I heard him sigh.
“I wish I could see you.” He was even closer and sounded a little frustrated. “The next time I see you we’ll be in front of a hundred people.”
I swallowed at the thought. Then, abruptly, everything felt very real. I stopped floating and my feet hit the ground.
I was getting married. To Quinn. In less than an hour. I had so much to tell him.
“Quinn, I have something to tell you.”
“What? Are you okay?”
“Yes, sorry. I’m fine. But I wanted to let you know, I looked over the private client files last week, listened to the recordings, read the logs.”
“Oh.” I heard a difference in his voice, like he was bracing himself. It was amazing to me how tuned in I was to the sound of his voice now that we were blindfolded.
“No—listen, I think you have it all wrong. You are not a bad guy, Quinn; these people trust you. Yes, you use them, but you use them for good. Like…like an excellent manager, or a kind-hearted vigilante.”
He didn’t respond right away, but when he did, his voice was devoid of inflection. “A kind-hearted vigilante…?”
“Yes. If you think about it, all superheroes are vigilantes: Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman. They’re not paid for the work they do, fighting crime. If you don’t count Captain America, none of them follow a chain of command. They’re out there in the world doing good work for the betterment of society.”
I allowed a dramatic pause before adding, “You really are Batman!”
I heard him exhale a laugh, imagined that he shook his head. “Janie….”
“Just tell me you know you’re a good person. You’re not a bad guy, Quinn. You’re the good guy who uses questionable methods to achieve the most desirable outcome for everyone. It’s ok to be gifted at using people if you’re using them for good. Wait…that sounded bad.”
“You drive me crazy—in the best possible way.”
“Good, because we’re getting married.” I whispered the words like they were a secret, so that only Quinn could hear. “And this means you’re stuck with me in some capacity for the rest of your life until you die, or I die, or you have me murdered.”
I could hear in his voice that he was obviously fighting a smile, because he paused before responding. “Stuck is one word for it, yes….”
“This is your last chance to back out,” I offered as I gained a half step closer, my hands reaching out blindly for the front of his suit. I found him, tried not to grip the material too hard.
“Janie….” His hand fumbled for my waist, squeezed me through the layers of fabric. “My last chance to back out was eight months ago when I saw you at Club Outrageous in those shoes and that black dress, when you told me about creating your own collective nouns. I didn’t know it until later, but I’ve been yours and you’ve been mine since that moment. Today….” I felt his shoulders lift on a shrug before he continued. “Today we’re just making it official.”
My heart and bones melted into nothing. I wanted to fling myself into his arms and cover his face with kisses. However, before I could respond, I heard the ladies assemble.
Fiona said, “Okay, your two minutes are up.”
Quinn and I were given approximately three more seconds before they all returned and he was pulled away. I could tell by the glee in their voices that they were enjoying themselves an inordinate amount.
Then I heard the door to the suite shut and knew he was gone. Hands were at the back of my head removing the blindfold.
“I said no touching.” Ashley was standing in front of me. She winked then added, “I love that you guys didn’t listen.”
I returned her smile, though I was still thinking about covering Quinn’s face in kisses, and allowed myself to truly adjust to the feeling of my feet being on the ground again. I’d allowed myself to be steered for the last twenty-four hours. It had been a very nice twenty-four hours, but now I was ready to chart my own path.
“Here, let me get my shoes.” I pointed toward the closet and took a few steps in that direction, but Elizabeth blocked my path.
“About that….” She gave me a big grin. “We wanted to give you something, but we couldn’t decide what. So, we got you two somethings.”
Kat revealed a shoebox from behind her back and handed it to me. I lifted an eyebrow at their expectant faces and opened the box.
Inside were a pair of blue suede stilettos. My mouth fell open and I looked around the room.
“Do you like them? We figured you needed something blue. And they reminded us of Vegas, especially since Elizabeth got hitched by Elvis, even if we don’t remember it.”
“I
love them.” And I did. I moved to put them on.
Before I could, Fiona stepped forward with another gift. “This is something we worked on together.” She was bouncing on her feet as she relinquished it to my hands and added unnecessarily, “Open it!”
I laughed, took the box from her, and carefully peeled back the wrapping paper.
“Just rip into it already!’ Sandra said. “The suspense is killing me!” She was biting her nails.
“Don’t you know what it is?” I asked.
“Yes. But I can’t wait for you to see it!”
I gave in and ripped the paper, opened the box, and gasped.
In it was the most exquisite, delicate, and all around unbelievably beautiful object I’d ever seen.
“It’s a Haapsalu shawl—an Estonian wedding shawl. We each knit a section,” Fiona explained.
I lifted it up by one edge and studied the fine, intricate lacework. My throat wouldn’t work. I tried to speak but I was completely overwhelmed.
“Let me help you put it on. You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to, but we wanted to make something for you, and Kat found this pattern, so we all watched YouTube videos and learned how to do Estonian lace knitting.” Marie said all this as she lifted it from the box and put it around my bare shoulders.
“I love it.” I choked, meeting their eyes one at a time. I knew mine were shining. “I want to wear it. It’s…it’s perfect.”
Ashley came forward and pulled me into a hug; she held me briefly and whispered, “You are a stunning goddess. I am so happy for you. Also, my section of the shawl is the nicest.”
“I heard that!” Sandra poked Ashley as she pulled back, then Sandra stepped forward to take her place.
Each of my friends took their turn giving me hugs and whispering well wishes in my ear.
Sandra said, “Go get ’em, Sexy-Brains.”
Kat said, “I am so glad you got laid off!” This made us both laugh, then she added, “I prefer seeing you once a week sublimely happy than seeing you every day merely content.”
Fiona said, “You are a treasure. May your marriage be poor in misfortunes, rich in blessings, and constant in love.”
Marie said, “Thank you for letting me plan your wedding! I know it’s all fluff and nonsense, but I hope you know that every flower, every bow, every candle, and every note of music is my ode to you.”
Elizabeth then stepped forward and wrapped me in her arms. She leaned away saying, “You are my best friend.” She paused and my chin wobbled. “So I’m not going to say anything that will make you cry and wreck your makeup.” Everyone laughed, but it was a little too late. All the ladies were sniffling, daintily dabbing at the corners of their eyes. Sandra passed me a tissue.
Elizabeth smiled, squeezed my hands. “I’ll save the mushy stuff for my toast, but I will tell you this. You have your own room in my heart. It’s yours. Stay as long as you want; it will always be there for you.”
“Damn it, Elizabeth!” Sandra huffed. “If that’s saving the mushy stuff, then I guess we should all bring a box of Kleenex to the reception.”
I glanced around and found them all crying and laughing.
I was surrounded by six of the great loves of my life. How one person could be so blessed, so lucky, so valued, so cherished was a great and beautiful mystery. But I didn’t question it. I just smiled, soaked up the moment, committed it and them to memory, and gave thanks for my fortune, recognizing it for what it was.
It was infinite.
* * *
We were the last to arrive at the church.
I was told by Marie that this was all planned. Ideally, I would exit the car, proceed into the church, and immediately walk down the aisle.
And that’s basically what happened.
She made us wait two minutes in the car, checked her phone, then informed us that it was time.
Stan rushed forward to help me out of the car, his eyes and smile huge. “May I just say, Ms. Morris, that you are the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen?”
“Even more beautiful than me?” Elizabeth nudged his shoulder. “I’m sure you haven’t forgotten that dress I rocked at my Vegas wedding!”
When he glanced from her to me like he was caught between a rock and a hard place, Elizabeth laughed. She didn’t quite recover from her giggles until we were up the stairs and in the foyer of the church.
My father was there by himself, sitting in a chair off to one side, watching TV on his cell phone. It looked like the inner door to the church had just closed, as though someone had just walked through them. I glanced at my father as the ladies assembled in their line, grabbing the bouquets of flowers that Marie handed out.
She then crossed to me and handed me a huge bunch of ferns. I smiled at the lovely arrangement—red, burgundy, and orange. There wasn’t a single green fern in the bunch.
“They reminded me of your hair,” she said, then quickly took her place in line.
The music changed. The doors opened. I stepped to the side so I wouldn’t be seen, but I had a good view of the back of the church. It was a small church with dark wooden pews, thick ancient-looking stained glass, and large—especially for the side of the church—Roman columns decorated with gold mosaic.
From where I was standing, it looked completely full.
I wondered who all these people were, but I didn’t have an opportunity to dwell on it.
Elizabeth was the last in line; turned toward me, gave me a small smile, then disappeared. The doors closed.
I turned to my father, studied him for a beat, then placed my hand on his shoulder.
“Dad?”
“Hmm?” He glanced up, blinked at me. His eyes narrowed, eyes that struck me as looking remarkably like mine.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Yeah. Sure.” His attention moved back to the screen of his phone.
“Why do you send me email forwards?”
His eyes flickered to mine then returned to the cell. “Do I?” He shrugged. “I send funny stuff to whoever is in my email address book.”
I stared at him. I should have been hurt. The email forwards had been, for a very long time, the single piece of evidence that I’d clung to; they were the only tangible sign that my father—the man who fed and clothed me—had any interest in a relationship.
I’d been wrong.
It didn’t matter if he was my biological father. Blood mattered less than love, constancy, support, and sacrifice. I took a deep breath and silently said goodbye to my hope for us. I said goodbye to what I’d always wished he would be.
Going through the motions held no value. I was going to walk myself down the aisle. No one would give me away.
This decision wasn’t some feminist statement or rejection of societal conventions. This decision was based on the knowledge that there was no one to give me away. But that didn’t matter, because I wasn’t walking backward into my past. I was going forward to my future.
I said to the top of his head, “Quinn will come find you after the ceremony to reimburse you for your trouble. You’ve flown all the way out here for nothing, I’m afraid.”
He finally looked at me again, frowned. “What are you talking about?”
I shook my head. “Nothing. It doesn’t matter. Just…goodbye.”
I leaned down and kissed him on the cheek, and then I walked back to the double doors alone, feeling remarkable sense of relief and peace about my sudden decision. I didn’t look back.
Again, the music changed. The sound of Edward Elgar’s “Salut d’Amour” filled my ears, and I laughed in wonder because the music wasn’t being played by an organ.
The song was being played by strings—violins, cellos, bass—and it gave me the distinct impression that I was being pulled into the church, lured by the lovely music into the arms of my lover.
The sound of a hundred people standing was followed by the doors of the church opening.
And there he was.
I didn�
�t have to search for him. Our eyes simply met, and everything, everyone else was gone. I still heard the music, but it felt distant, like a soundtrack playing in the background of a movie.
I saw his eyes widen and his mouth fall open and his expression change from stoic to stunned.
Quinn Sullivan had lost his composure.
He looked completely astonished and it took my entire slow march down the aisle for him to recover.
I tried to imagine how he saw me: the strapless silk taffeta bodice, the cinched waist, the huge layered skirt with overlapping folds. The delicate wedding shawl felt as light as air, and the kid mohair fingering-weight yarn shone beneath the lights of the church.
I tried to imagine how he saw me, but I was also stunned by the sight of Quinn. He was in a custom cut tuxedo and looked like every woman’s ideal of the perfect man, a fantasy that Ian Fleming had encouraged by creating the character of James Bond as the sexiest man in the world—except that James Bond had nothing on Quinn Sullivan.
By the time I met him at the altar, he was smiling ruefully. He stared at me with narrowed eyes, like he’d just caught on to a grand deception that I’d orchestrated, and he was proud and impressed that I’d pulled it off.
Quinn stepped forward before I’d quite made it all the way to the front. He kept his gaze on me and tucked my hand in his elbow. He kept looking at me as we climbed the two steps to the altar, and he continued to hold my eyes as the officiant welcomed all our guests.
He leaned toward me at an opportune time and whispered, “Nice dress.”
I held his gaze and returned, “Wait till you see what’s underneath.”
If I hadn’t been so enraptured with Quinn and the wonderful enormity of the occasion, I would have noticed that Elizabeth and Fiona cried happy tears throughout the entire ceremony while holding hands. I would have noticed the looks of joy shared by Desmond and Katherine. I would have noticed Steven’s giant smile and Dan’s approving head nod.
But I didn’t notice, because Quinn’s eyes poured his being into mine during the readings, the short sermon, and when we exchanged our traditional vows. His gaze felt like a promise of our future and a celebration of our past. The only time he broke eye contact was when we were proclaimed husband and wife.
