The Wedding of Rachel Blaine

by Amy Cross

  Dust is rising high, filling the room.

  “What the hell was that?” Robert snaps, dropping to his knees right next to me and putting a hand on my face, gently turning me toward him. “Rachel, are you hurt?”

  “No, I'm fine.”

  “What's wrong with this place?” he shouts, turning to the members of staff who've come over. “Are you running some kind of death-trap?”

  ***

  “I'm really, truly fine,” I say a short while later as I sit in the breakfast room. Holding my hands up, I smile at Mr. Percival – the hotel's manager – and then at Robert. “Look, I'm not even shaking anymore. No harm done.”

  “That chandelier could have killed you,” Robert replies, for what must be the hundredth time, before turning to Mr. Percival. “It could have killed her!”

  “I'm so sorry,” he says, and he must have said that about a hundred times too since he came to find me. “Ms. Blaine, I can't even begin to apologize enough. I don't know how the chandelier could have come loose, but I assure you that I will personally carry out a thorough investigation. At this very moment, I have our maintenance staff double-checking every public space and every room to ensure that there'll be no further disturbances for the rest of the weekend.”

  “If you think we're still holding our wedding here,” Robert sneers, “after my fiance was almost killed, then you've got another -”

  “Of course we're still holding the wedding here,” I tell him, placing a hand on his arm. “Robert, we are not canceling anything.”

  “But -”

  “I would rather have a chandelier fall on my head,” I add, “than re-plan this wedding with less than twenty-four hours to go.”

  “We will make sure that this is the most perfect wedding,” Mr. Percival says. “Please, rest here for as long as you need, while I go and make arrangements with the staff. I can assure you that the rest of the weekend will be a complete success.”

  With that, he turns and hurries back across the room. The poor man is clearly distraught by what happened with the chandelier, and I actually feel a little sorry for him. Everything's fine, no-one's been hurt, so I really think we need to just move on.

  I open my mouth to tell Robert again that I'm fine, but then I start coughing as I feel more dust in my throat.

  “You're letting these people off far too easily,” Robert says, clearly still seething as Mr. Percival leaves the room and bumps the door shut. “We have every right to sue them.”

  “I'm not letting anyone off,” I reply, “I'm simply trying to not lose my mind. And canceling the wedding right now isn't an option. Please, Robert, let's not talk about suing anyone. Let's just get back on-track. Every wedding has to have one mini-disaster, and hopefully ours is done and dusted now. The odds of a second near-death experience have to be pretty low.”

  I wait for him to reply, and slowly I see a hint of acceptance in his eyes. He must have known that I'd never even consider changing our plans now.

  “I suppose it'll be a good story to tell people one day,” he says finally. “We can tell our kids and...”

  His voice trails off.

  “Sorry,” he adds, “maybe I'm getting ahead of myself there.”

  “Not really.” I lean toward him and kiss him on the cheek, and then I pull back. “I'm totally fine,” I point out. “See? Not a scratch or a hair out of place. Just a few kilos of dust in my lungs.”

  I wait again for him to reply, but a moment later there's a tentative knocking sound, and then I turn to see Elena using her bum to push the door open as she enters carrying a tray of drinks.

  “Sorry to disturb you,” she says, coming over and setting the tray down, “but Mr. Percival wanted me to bring you these, with our compliments.”

  She takes two champagne flutes and puts them next to us.

  “It's just a token from the hotel,” she explains to me, before turning to Robert, “to say that we hope you -”

  Suddenly she freezes, staring at Robert with a puzzled expression. I wait for her to snap out of it, but she stares at him for several more seconds before turning to me and then looking back at him.

  “Is something wrong?” Robert asks, sounding irritated.

  “No,” she stammers, but she stares at him for a moment longer before taking a step back. She tries to smile, but it's clear that something's troubling her. “Um, no. Nothing's wrong, everything's fine.”

  “Are you sure?” I ask, definitely sensing something a little off in her demeanor. “I want to thank you again for yanking me out of the way. You were a real hero today. I think you might even have saved my life.”

  “It was nothing,” she says, ashen-faced now as she seems not to quite know where to go. She smiles at me, and then she glances briefly at Robert before muttering something under her breath and hurrying back out of the room like a scared little mouse.

  “She's a weird one, huh?” Robert says, taking the flutes and holding one out for me.

  “I can't drink alcohol right now,” I tell him, still puzzled by the way Elena suddenly acted so strangely. It was almost as if she was terrified of something.

  “It'll do you good.”

  “No, really.” I turn and watch as he downs his glass. “I need a clear head, plus I don't want to look bloated in the wedding photos. There'll be time for champagne tomorrow, when everything's done. But Robert, I...”

  My voice trails off.

  Staring at him, I once again contemplate the fact that I've lied about my past. Or at least, I've omitted a pretty big part of it, and I want to come clean before we tie the knot. What if the falling chandelier was a sign from above, a kind of warning that I need to be honest? I want to give Robert the chance to back out of the whole wedding if he doesn't like what he hears.

  “Can't let it go to waste, then,” he says suddenly, and he quickly downs my glass of champagne too, before letting out a satisfied gasp as he puts both flutes down on the table. Getting to his feet, he wipes his lips and then he reaches a hand out toward me. “So, shall we get back out there and see what fresh disasters your family managed to concoct during our absence? I'm sure your mother, at the very least, has screwed up several more things by now.”

  “She's not that bad,” I reply, taking his hand and getting up, and following him to the door. I guess maybe I'm still not brave enough to tell the truth. “Well, actually, you might have a point. I hope she hasn't gone anywhere near the flowers.”

  Chapter Four

  “So that's where I'll be walking tomorrow morning,” I say, turning and shielding my eyes from the sun as I point across the lawn, back toward the lake. “Down from there once I get off the boat, and along here, and then up through the rear of the seating area.”

  “Are you sure that's not too far?” Mum asks, with her usual injection of skepticism. “It'll take you an awfully long time, and you don't want to be rushing.”

  “What else can I do?” I reply. “Robert really likes the idea of me arriving from the lake, and we can't move the site for the vows now. They've already laid out the base for the frames.”

  “Yes, but -”

  “We're just going to keep it as it is,” I continue, trying to cut her off at the pass before she starts suggesting a million other over-complicated possibilities, “and make sure that it's nice and simple. That way, we can -”

  Before I can finish, I spot movement in the distance, and I'm surprised to see Robert hurrying away from the hotel and heading toward the forest that runs down toward the far end of the lake. At first I assume he's maybe just taking a weird route around to the car-park, but then I watch as he slips between the trees and disappears into the darkness between the trees.

  “That's odd,” I mutter.

  “What is?” Mum asks, turning to follow my gaze.

  “Is there anything out there in the forest?” I ask. “I don't remember seeing anything on the map, but I swear Robert just went out that way.”

  “He's a man, darling,” Mum says. “You have to le
arn to stop questioning everything they do, otherwise you'll go quite mad. I think I understand about one per cent of anything your father ever did. Men are basically monkeys in dinner jackets.”

  “Robert's not some neanderthal idiot,” I reply, turning to her. “I know you've never really liked him, Mum, but at least give him a little credit. I'm sure he's got a perfectly good reason for going out there, and I'll ask him later. And do you know what? I'm perfectly willing to trust him. For all I know, he's got some kind of little surprise planned for me.” I pause for a moment, before furrowing my brow. “He'd better not be out there in his best shoes, though. If he scuffs his shoes for the ceremony, I'll kill him.”

  “So you're going to get driven along in a boat,” Mum says, “and you'll have to climb up onto the jetty, and then you'll walk here for the ceremony?”

  “I know it sounds complicated,” I reply, turning to her, “but I suppose it'll be a fun way to make an entrance. It was Robert's idea.”

  “And you're going to do all of this in a wedding dress?”

  “Yes, and -”

  “And have you checked out the logistics of that?” she asks, raising a skeptical eyebrow. “Because if you ask me, all that fanny-arsing around sounds like a recipe for disaster. The best thing is -”

  “I'm going to tell him,” I say suddenly, interrupting her.

  I don't even know where that came from, or why I said it, but suddenly I feel filled with the absolute certain belief that I have to find Robert and tell him everything. Sometimes I manage to lock the fear and uncertainty away for a short while, but that only means that it inevitably comes bursting out at inopportune moments. Like this. And I can't live the rest of my life with the guilt.

  “About me,” I continue, unable to ignore the rising tide of panic in my chest. “I know what you said, Mum, but I can't let him marry me under false pretenses. He deserves to know everything about me and -”

  “Don't you dare,” she says firmly.

  “I have to!”

  “No, you don't.” She steps closer. “Rachel, that all happened years ago, long before you met Robert. You beat it, and it's in the past now. The last thing you should be doing is dredging it up like this. I know you young people keep harping on about your emotions, but some things are better left buried.” She pauses, as if she's waiting for me to capitulate. “You went through a very hard time,” she continues finally, “and you emerged the other side, and I'm so proud of you for your strength. But if you tell Robert now, he'll run a mile. He won't understand, Rachel. You owe it to him, and to yourself, to keep your mouth zipped and to focus on the future.”

  “But -”

  “Because you're better now, Rachel,” she adds firmly. “You've moved on.”

  I open my mouth to argue with her, but then somehow my bravery just evaporates.

  “The only reason to tell him,” she continues, “would be if you think something like that might happen again. And it won't happen again, Rachel, will it? You're not feeling it come back.” She pauses, eyeing me carefully. “Are you?”

  I hesitate for a few seconds.

  “No,” I say finally. “Of course not. I mean, I don't think so. Definitely not.”

  “Then that's settled,” she says, with a broad, beaming smile, before suddenly reaching out and straightening my hair, tucking some strands behind my ears. “Now why don't you explain all your plans to me one more time? Because for the life of me, I can't imagine how you intend to climb up onto that jetty and not have the whole thing turn into the most ridiculous catastrophe.”

  ***

  “No, it'll be fine. Look.”

  Crouching down at the end of the jetty a few minutes later, I look down toward the glittering water and see a small, fragile-looking set of wooden steps leading up from the water. There's nothing really to hold onto, though, and after a moment I realize that Mum might actually have a point.

  “I wouldn't like to climb up there in a wedding dress,” Mum says, leaning over me. “Imagine if you fall into the lake.”

  “Thank you, mother,” I reply, looking up at her. “You're very encouraging.”

  “I'm only trying to help, Rachel. You've got to think about every little thing when you're planning an event of this size. What if it's windy tomorrow? The boat'll be bobbing about, and you won't be able to grab onto the railing until you're almost all the way up. And it'll be overcast according to the forecast, so the light won't be too good, which might mean that you slip. You've already got so much to think about.”

  “John, the guy with the boat, can help me.”

  “Shouldn't he be busy steadying the boat?”

  “He can do both.”

  “I hardly think so, darling. You need someone else on there who can give you a hand.”

  “The boat's only big enough for two people,” I tell her, “and anyway, I can't spare a bridesmaid for that.”

  “I suppose not,” she replies. “It's almost as if the whole arrival by boat thing is a bad idea, isn't it? I really think you should tell Robert that you're not doing it.”

  Ignoring her, I look back down at the water. I tell myself that I'll be able to climb up without any problems, although I'm going to have to think about it a little. Reaching down, I see that there are several crooked nail-heads poking out from the wood, and I make a mental note to come back later with a hammer and try banging the sharp little edges down flat. A moment later I reach out and take hold of the steps, giving them another shake, and I'm a little disconcerted to find that the entire contraption moves quite freely, almost as if it's coming loose.

  Still, it's too late to back out now. Robert was very insistent about this part of the ceremony. I'll just have to be very, very careful.

  I turn to get back up, but at the last moment I spot my face reflected in the water below. For some reason, the sight startles me a little, and as I stare down I can't help thinking that my eyes look very tired. I'm going to have make-up for the wedding tomorrow, but all the stress of planning the event definitely seems to have taken a toll on me. In fact, I reckon I look pretty ancient right now, and I think I can even see bags under my eyes. The glittering water is getting buffeted by a gentle breeze, making my reflection dance in the light that ripples against the small waves, but after a moment I realize that my face suddenly looks older than ever. Dappled light keeps getting in the way, but as I stare at the reflection I swear it's an old woman's face that's staring back. And as each second goes past, the reflection looks worse and worse until finally I think I'm seeing some kind of old, rotten hag with thin skin clinging to patches of exposed bone and the skull starting to -

  “Rachel?”

  “What?”

  Startled, I turn and see that Mum is still leaning over me. I look back down at the water, and when the dappled light clears for a moment I'm relieved to see my normal face again. I guess some kind of optical illusion must have briefly made me look so much older, and maybe my mind's playing tricks on me, but the important thing is that everything looks to be okay now. For a few seconds there, it was almost as if the face staring back up at me was dead.

  “Are you zoning out on me?” Mum asks as she helps me to my feet. “Why, I don't think you heard a word that I just said.”

  “Sorry,” I reply, still a little freaked-out by that hag-like face. “I guess I'm just trying to juggle too many things at once.”

  As I say those words, I spot a figure in the distance, and when I look past Mum I see that Robert is now emerging from the forest and heading back toward the hotel. He seems to be in a hurry, and I can't help feeling that he's trying not to be spotted.

  “In my day,” Mum says, “weddings were simpler affairs. I know it's a shame that Robert doesn't have any family to invite, or really many friends, but you shouldn't feel that you have to organize a lavish affair just because he's willing to pay for whatever you want.”

  I watch Robert walking back through the double doors. I could go and ask him what he was doing in the forest, of course
, but I wouldn't want to ruin any kind of surprise that he might be cooking up for me. He's a romantic soul and I've noticed lately that he seems a little preoccupied. I just hope he hasn't gone and done anything too over-the-top. Then again, he does tend to be a little... demonstrative, from time to time.

  “He'll be mine soon,” Mum says, as I continue to watch the hotel's double doors. “He'll be mine forever.”

  “I need to get back to work,” I reply with a heavy sigh. “There are too many -”

  Stopping suddenly, I turn to her.

  She's staring at me with a curious expression, blank for the most part but with a simmering intensity in her eyes.

  “What did you say?” I ask.

  “I said I've been telling you from the start that this wedding is getting out of hand.”

  “No, you said something about...”

  My voice trails off as I realize that maybe I was imagining things. I swear Mum said something about Robert being hers soon, but that makes no sense and Mum's not exactly the joking kind.

  “Forget it,” I say, unable to hide the fact that I feel a little flustered. “I'm losing my mind. I think I just need to go inside and make sure we're all ready for the rehearsal.”

  “Okay, darling,” she replies with a smile, and then she steps toward me. “I'll just -”

  Suddenly she stumbles, falling as if her legs have given way. She grabs the railing just as I grip her arm to hold her up, and it takes a moment before I feel her taking her own weight again.

  “Are you alright?” I ask.

  “I just felt dizzy for a moment,” she says, sounding a little spaced-out. She forces a smile and pats me on the shoulder. “It must be all this running around. Don't worry about me, darling, I'll be fine. Now how about we get in there and make sure this rehearsal doesn't end in disaster, eh?”

  Chapter Five