A Wedding One Christmas

by Therese Beharrie

  ‘No, I say that because Caledon doesn’t scream elaborate and expensive.’

  ‘Maybe not,’ she told him, ‘but it does have a certain charm.’

  She stopped walking, turning so she faced the eastern set of cabins that encompassed half of the lodge’s accommodation. She began to walk in that direction, only checking that he was beside her when she was already on the other side of the path.

  ‘Are you coming?’

  ‘Depends on what you’re going to do there.’

  ‘I want to show you something.’

  ‘And you can’t show it to me here?’

  ‘No.’ She let out a little huff. ‘Come on, Ezra.’ There was barely a pause before she continued. ‘Are you worried I’m going to do something to you? I promise I won’t. My handbag’s in your car and I keep all my weapons in there.’

  He shook his head even as the smile claimed his lips. Even as his feet began crossing the path. Even as he followed her.

  ‘Okay, so this isn’t strictly legal—’

  ‘What?’

  She laughed and took his hand easily, as if they’d known each other all their lives. ‘I’m kidding. But we are leaving the lodge’s property right now.’ They passed the final cabin as she said the words, continuing up a path covered with leaves now, not gravel. ‘And we’re doing a short walk up this little hill.’

  ‘If someone had told me I’d be following a stranger up a hill in a town I’ve never been to before, I swear I’d think I’d been kidnapped.’

  ‘Are you sure you weren’t reading a thriller earlier?’ she asked with a cheeky look on her face. ‘Were you hiding a paperback under those papers? This is a safe space. You can tell me.’

  ‘You always have—’

  He broke off when she stopped walking and turned to look at him with a dopey grin on her face. He stopped next to her, though he wasn’t quite sure what the smile was for.

  Then he did.

  They were standing at the top of a hill that gave them an aerial view of Caledon. It was a town of contradictions. There were large patches of land that were browning on one side of the town, with lush greenery on the other side where a large dam could be seen. Small patches of rural-like homes were spluttered along gravel roads, with larger areas of urbanised homes along stretches of tar next to them around what he assumed were stores in a busy central area.

  ‘Wow.’

  ‘Yeah,’ she agreed. ‘It’s beautiful to see it from up here. It kind of reminds me of a lot of South Africa. Some breathtakingly beautiful spots, then the reminders of the hardship in the country’s past.’ She cocked her head. ‘But mostly the beautiful.’

  ‘How did you know it was here?’

  Her face...crumpled. It was the only description he could come up with. ‘My parents used to bring us up here. Me and my sisters.’ She hesitated. Squared her shoulders. ‘They used to live here. My parents, I mean. It was important to them that we saw where they’d started their family.’

  ‘They had their first child here?’

  ‘No. Well,’ she said immediately after, ‘they found out they were pregnant with me here. But they had me in Cape Town. I think they just wanted us to know this was where their married life began. And technically, I suppose this is where their family started.’

  ‘They sound happy.’

  ‘They were.’

  He noted the past tense. At the same time, he felt his hand stretching out and clasping hers. He saw her look down and for a beat, he thought she might pull away. She didn’t. Instead, she threaded her fingers through his, squeezing his hand as if to say thank you.

  They stood like that, staring out over the town.

  It was almost an out-of-body experience for him. Because he didn’t do things like this. He didn’t hold strangers’ hands; he didn’t watch it happen as if he were a bystander to a friendship blossoming. Friendship. He swallowed, but didn’t question it. It felt safer. Friendship was easier to deal with than...than whatever else was crashing against his chest, demanding he name it.

  So he stood. Looked. Admired. He would have never thought a small town could elicit such feelings from him. But then, he had spent the past two years in a small town. Maybe living in Grahamstown had encouraged a deeper sense of appreciation in him for spaces where people actually knew one another.

  ‘Do you see that grey building over there?’ Angie asked, breaking the silence.

  ‘The one with the red roof?’

  ‘Yeah. It’s a diner.’

  Ezra turned at the emotion in her voice. On her face, he saw nostalgia. And a twinge of sadness. His grip on her hand tightened.

  ‘That’s where my mom told my dad she was pregnant.’

  ‘Wow.’

  She gave him the side-eye. ‘There was an awful lot of emotion in that one word.’

  He laughed. ‘I just—Okay, I think it’s a bit weird you can point out where your mother told your father she was expecting.’

  ‘Why?’ she asked, turning toward him, dropping his hand and folding her arms. He felt an inexplicable emptiness at the loss of contact. ‘Don’t your parents have places special to them? Or rather, don’t they share those places with you?’

  Ezra thought about his parents. About their easiness around each other. About the clear love they showed. He ignored the pang in his chest.

  ‘Sure. But this is a little extreme.’

  ‘Well, then,’ she said after a moment. ‘It’s a good thing I didn’t point out the house they told us I’d been conceived in.’

  His head whipped around so quickly he belatedly worried he’d caused permanent damage. She widened her eyes—which were now bright with amusement—and he shook his head.

  ‘Oh. You’re messing with me.’

  ‘You’re not the only one who can be provocative.’ She grinned. ‘We better get back.’

  ‘You’re right. The twenty minutes this walk has taken has probably made all the guests forget about you.’

  Her eyes widened again, though this time she looked stricken. ‘Are you messing with me, or do you really think they’re looking for me?’ She gripped the arm of his shirt. ‘Ezra.’

  He laughed. In amusement, yes, but also to cover up the way his body was heating at her touch. ‘I’m not sure. There isn’t one way to do a wedding, so Jenny and Dave might not be back yet.’

  ‘If they’re not back yet, the guests won’t be distracted enough to ignore me.’ She groaned and moved her hand from his arm to her forehead. ‘What am I going to do?’

  ‘This isn’t an existential crisis, Angie,’ he said, amused. ‘We can just avoid them.’

  ‘Yes.’ She brightened. He felt something inside him do the same. ‘When I was, um, removing myself from the wedding celebrations earlier—’

  ‘When you were hiding in the bushes, you mean?’

  ‘I noticed,’ she continued, ignoring him, ‘that there seemed to be something going on on the property next to the lodge. We could go check that out?’

  ‘Sure,’ he replied too quickly, then offered her a smile he hoped wasn’t too eager. ‘You can tell me why you hate weddings so much while we walk there. Or why you pretend to.’

  ‘I don’t pretend to,’ she said. They started walking. ‘And I guess “hate” is a strong word. It’s... They come with a lot of baggage for me. The ones I’ve attended have been unpleasant. Those were ones that were supposed to mean something to me. Friends. Family.’ The last word came out softly. She blew out a breath. ‘They’re probably not like that for everyone.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘Nothing specific.’ Her face tightened. He wondered if it meant she was lying. ‘They’ve just been awkward events, particularly in my family. My aunts saw them as opportunities to show each other up; my uncles as chances to get ridiculously drunk. My cousins used them to flaunt their achieveme
nts or money. They were never about the marriage. The union of two souls who love each other. Or whatever.’

  She shrugged with a roll of her eyes, and he knew it was a way for her to shake off what she hadn’t meant to reveal to him. She’d done it back at the top of the hill, too, with her parents. She would change the subject or make a joke. Anything to avoid emotions, he thought with a frown.

  Interesting.

  But he’d indulge her. For now.

  ‘You sound like a romantic.’

  ‘Well, I have to be, don’t I, for the sake of my future career?’

  ‘Ah, yes, the writing. I’d almost forgotten about that.’

  ‘Here I thought I’d made such an impression,’ she said dryly. She paused when they got to a particularly steep area of the hill.

  ‘Let me.’

  Ezra jumped down carefully and offered her a hand.

  ‘I got up there by myself, you know.’

  ‘I do,’ he said, but kept his hand there.

  She rolled her eyes again. ‘Fine.’

  Then she was gripping his hand and lowering a foot before placing her weight on it. She followed with her other foot. It had all been done very smoothly until that moment, when her foot skidded on the ground beneath her. His free arm immediately went around her waist, her body slamming against his with the momentum from her slip. But he had good grip where he was standing and the danger ended there.

  Well, that danger.

  With her body against his, he had the opportunity to feel the generous softness of her. His arm was circled around a waist that was full, though smaller than the breasts pressed against his chest. Breasts that he only had to look down to see more clearly.

  Except that he couldn’t. He was too caught in her eyes. In the surprise, the hesitance there. The interest, too, though the light of it seemed dulled. It was as if she felt it, but was refusing to acknowledge it. Which felt right, based on what he knew about her.

  And yet his body was still tightening; something inside him still coiling.

  The surprise of it had him letting go when she stepped back. And nodding when she offered him a shakily smile along with her thanks.

  ‘Don’t mention it,’ he said.

  ‘Okay.’

  The silence that followed seemed heavy with what they weren’t saying, and he blurted out, ‘Why romance?’

  She blinked. Adjusting to the abrupt change in topic, he thought.

  ‘Probably the happily-ever-afters.’ Her expression was pensive. ‘That I can control it.’

  ‘Oh. That’s not what I was expecting.’

  She laughed softly. ‘Wouldn’t you hand out happily-ever-afters if you could?’

  ‘No, I meant being able to control it.’

  ‘Life is unpredictable,’ she replied after a pause. ‘I guess it’s appealing to me. The idea that I can give people happy endings when that’s not what happens in real life. Oh, no, wait,’ she said, her eyes wide, ‘that’s not what I meant.’

  ‘What—’ He broke off when his mind replayed her words and picked up on the ‘happy ending’ comment. He chuckled. ‘I’m sure some people are getting happy endings in real life.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah,’ she said, a pretty blush staining her cheeks. ‘How about you? Why women’s studies, I mean.’ The blush deepened—as did his laughter.

  ‘Just answer the question, damn it.’

  He cleared his throat, though his lips were still curved. ‘I was one of those weird kids who always thought really deeply about things that didn’t require a thirteen-year-old’s musings. It probably started with learning about women and their influence on the Apartheid fight when we were learning about it at school—“You strike a woman, you strike a rock” and all that—and then looking around and realising that despite that influence, I didn’t see how they’d benefitted from it. Women, specifically. Not the entire country or a race in the country.’

  They’d reached the gravel road again and Angie was leading them back toward the café. She wore an expression of concentration, though he didn’t know whether that was because she was listening to him or because she was trying to see potential wedding guests before they saw her.

  Either way, it was cute.

  ‘There were other things, but long story short, they all got me interested in women’s agency. Which, when I got to university, I realised I could study meaningfully.’

  ‘Hmm,’ she said. ‘Seems like a thirteen-year-old’s musings were exactly what the field needed.’

  He cocked his head, his mouth curving. ‘Guess so.’

  ‘Well, since it only seems fair then, considering what I’ve shared with you, let’s move on to question number two.’ There was a brief pause. ‘Why do you hate weddings?’

  The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.

  ‘Because I thought I was going to get married and didn’t even get as far as engaged.’

  Chapter Four

  ‘That’s...possibly the worst thing I’ve ever heard.’ Angie widened her eyes when he glanced over. ‘Sorry.’ She winced. ‘Remember what I said about talking more in weird situations? It also comes with no filter.’

  He gave her a look. ‘Let’s not pretend that isn’t something you would have said in a normal situation.’

  She blinked, then laughed. ‘You’re right. How well you’ve grown to know me,’ she teased. His lips twitched, but didn’t spread into a full smile. She sobered. ‘I’m sorry, Ezra.’

  And she was, even though she was glad for the clarity. The first—very selfish—piece of clarity was discovering he was single. Her brain offered the observation before she could force it to act with decorum. Her heart had responded in a similarly uncouth manner, relieved it didn’t have any competition.

  Once she got through that, she felt an ache in her chest at what he must have gone through. His hesitancy to open up suddenly became a lot clearer, too. And why he’d reacted so strangely to her telling that old man she was hoping he’d propose.

  She groaned. ‘Oh, Ezra, I’m so sorry.’

  ‘Yes, you said that.’

  ‘Yeah, but that was for—’ She broke off, since she wasn’t about to say, ‘for your non-fiancée.’ That would have made her sound even more heartless. She cleared her throat. ‘This is for what happened inside the café with me joking about the proposal. I’m an idiot.’

  His mouth curved. ‘You didn’t know.’

  ‘Yeah, well. I shouldn’t have assumed.’

  Because she had, she took a mental step back. Was grateful that she did when she realised she knew nothing about Ezra. He was...some man she’d met at a café. A man who made her heart jump in ways it hadn’t for the longest time; or ever, if she was being honest with herself. A man who made her body feel things it hadn’t ever. There was no point in denying that when she was still thinking about how their bodies had met at the bottom of the hill.

  But she had to remember that he knew just as much about her as she did about him. She doubted she would have liked it if he’d made some cavalier comment about death. About family. Or if he’d asked more questions about her family and stirred up the memories she was desperately trying to ignore.

  Though, as seemed to be the case that day, ignoring it still wasn’t working.

  She closed her eyes. Felt the grief, the pain wash over her as if she’d stood under a shower head and had it doused over her like water. Would it ever stop? The extreme reaction she could physically feel in her body. In her lungs. Her head. Her heart.

  ‘I’m such an idiot,’ she said again softly, though she wasn’t sure if she was saying it to herself or to him.

  ‘Angie. Angie.’ She looked at him. Then blinked a few times when she realised she was acting like a freak. An illogical freak. ‘You have nothing to apologise for. I overreacted with that man. It’s not the end of the world.’
>
  ‘You didn’t overreact,’ she said with a frown. ‘You reacted. And in a politer manner than I would have, I guarantee you.’

  He smiled. ‘You’re being nice. Generous, too, but I’ll accept it.’

  ‘I’m not being generous. I’m being...fair.’ She paused. ‘Why do you think it was an overreaction?’

  ‘Because—’ he lifted a hand, and there was a beat between then and when he continued ‘—because I asked to go for a walk because I felt suffocated at a pretend proposal. I wasn’t even engaged. I have no reason to—’

  ‘Respond appropriately to being faced with a situation that reminds you of something painful in your past?’ She shook her head. ‘I think you’re being much too hard on yourself.’

  I would know.

  She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, then deliberately let the air that had stuck in her lungs out. She had no desire to delve into how she was running away from her emotions. In fact, she wasn’t running. She was...adhering to her quota.

  She cleared her throat. Realised he’d stopped behind her. She stopped, too. Faced him.

  ‘How do you do that?’ he asked after a moment.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Make me feel better?’

  Though warmth spread through her, she shrugged. ‘Depends on who you ask. If you asked my younger sister, she’d say it’s because I’m a smartass.’

  There was a long pause as she realised what she’d said, and she swore silently. She’d been so desperate to brush off Ezra’s comment—it had felt too intimate, too personal; too much like a symbol of their connection—that she’d stepped right into the danger zone by referring to Sophia. Just after she’d justified why she didn’t want to, too.

  ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. It wasn’t fair.’

  ‘Sounds like you have a few issues yourself.’

  She laughed. ‘Slight understatement, if I’m honest.’

  ‘Do you want to talk about it?’

  She opened her mouth, then paused when she didn’t know what she was going to say. Her instinct had been no. Why would she want to talk about leaving weeks after her father’s funeral because she hadn’t wanted to deal with her mother’s feelings? Why would she want to tell him about the shame she carried about it? About the lies she told? The excuses?