A Wedding One Christmas

by Therese Beharrie

  Then there was no more delaying.

  With another breath, he went to the door and walked outside, hoping he’d find either Angie or her car there.

  He found neither.

  * * *

  Angie’s fingers tapped against the steering wheel as the minutes ticked by.

  This was the last thing she needed. Standing still in the middle of nowhere. Having nothing else to think about besides what she was heading toward. About what she was leaving behind.

  About how that last thing had somehow become more consuming than the first; the thing she’d been dreading for years.

  The accident ahead of her showed no signs of clearing up. Since it was coded in her DNA to think, it didn’t surprise her when a seed was planted in her mind.

  The longer she sat there, the more her thoughts nurtured it, watered it, offered it sunlight. Before she knew it, it had grown into a force of nature she couldn’t ignore. And she knew she couldn’t, because she tried. The more she did, the more it nudged her. The more her heart thumped in her chest.

  When those thumps became sharp, rapid beats, she let out a shaky breath. Asked herself what she could possibly achieve by following that inner voice. The one that told her she shouldn’t be sitting in traffic. She should be turning back. She should be taking a chance with the man who’d restored her belief in love, in a future. She should be giving them a future.

  She resisted for as long as she could. Because there was still a part of her that was afraid. That urged her to run. But the force of nature wouldn’t go away. It not only throbbed in her mind, but through her body now, too. And before she knew it, she’d switched on the car and had made a U-turn to go back up the mountain.

  * * *

  She left. Angie had left.

  It shouldn’t have surprised him. It didn’t. Hadn’t that been part of why he’d been delaying? Because if he’d gone out as soon as he’d known he’d wanted her in his life, he would have had to face this feeling sooner. The complete hopelessness. The emptiness. Neither of which compared to what he woke up with that morning.

  Now he was angry, too, though. Oh, he’d talked a good game about the goodbyes and the fact that they’d said goodbye the night before. He’d comforted himself with it, with thinking that not doing it now, that not saying goodbye now, didn’t matter. But he’d lied to himself before. Hell, he was constantly lying to himself.

  This was no different.

  He wanted a goodbye. He wanted to look at her face before she left. So he could memorise her features one last time. So he could run his fingertips over her cheeks, her lips. So he could kiss her again, and etch the taste of her, the feel of her, into his mind. His soul.

  So he’d have proof that this magical day at a wedding one Christmas had actually happened.

  Regret mingled with anger deep inside him, and then he was walking back to his room. He let the passion of it fuel his movements, throwing the things he’d unpacked into his bag. He refused to let the smell of her that still lingered in the room distract him. He would leave now, too. He would leave the place that reminded him only of her and go home. Where he should have gone from the beginning.

  It wasn’t so bad now. He could look forward to going back to them without the fears he used to have. He had other things to focus on. Being back home. Enjoying his new job. Being patient with himself as he figured out how to choose a life that would finally bring him fulfilment. Him. And not the people in his life he thought he had to pretend for.

  Why then had the anger, the regret sizzled down to a spark that buzzed throughout his body? A spark that told him a fulfilling life included Angie?

  He zipped his suitcase closed, then rested his hands on it. He didn’t know how to answer those questions. Or he did, but he wasn’t sure what those answers would bring him. More heartache? More disappointment, this time in himself?

  Only if things go wrong.

  He straightened. Wondered at that voice that had sounded in his head. In his gut. This was what it felt like, he thought. This was what it was like to have a gut instinct in real time. That instinct that told him he needed to take a chance. That even if things went wrong, he’d always regret it if he didn’t try.

  He had to try.

  * * *

  Thirty minutes into his trip, Ezra began to think he’d made a mistake.

  It started with the line of traffic he saw a few kilometres ahead of him at the top of the mountain leading down to Cape Town. It was compounded by the fact that doubt had infringed on the emotion he’d been using as motivation to follow Angie. It ended when the half-hour news bulletin on the radio informed him an accident had caused the delay, and that there was no foreseeable end to it.

  He knew Angie was somewhere in that line of traffic. Somewhere right at the beginning of it, he realised, considering the time she must have left that morning. For the first time, he thought about the logistics of his plan. Logistics that told him that even if there hadn’t been an accident, there was almost zero chance he’d have caught up with her.

  As clear as it had been when he set out on his plan, he only now realised the extent of its foolishness. He’d made it with his heart, with his gut, and he could now see that those parts of him needed to work in conjunction with his head.

  Using his head forced him to acknowledge that he might never see Angie again. He knew nothing about where she was going to except the suburb where she lived, and he couldn’t exactly drive through the whole of Kuils River hoping to find her. He didn’t even know if that’s where he would find her. Perhaps her family had moved. Perhaps she’d stay somewhere other than her family home.

  He wouldn’t be able to find her because he knew nothing practical about her.

  It didn’t matter that his heart was screaming about what he did know. Like the fact that she was one of the bravest people he’d ever met. That she had a will strong enough to defeat even the toughest of opponents. That she had a heart compassionate enough to help a stranger face his issues.

  Defeat struck his body as his head asked him how knowing all that helped. This had to be enough. The memories had to be enough.

  Yet something deep inside him knew they never would be.

  Chapter Twenty

  It was insane, Angie thought as she drove. Insane that she was going back for a man she’d met the day before. Insane that that man had somehow burrowed his way deep into her heart. Insane that she was going back even though she wasn’t sure what she’d face when she got to him. Or what getting to him would mean.

  Despite the insanity of it, she knew she was doing the right thing. If she wasn’t, there wouldn’t be this fierceness inside her urging her on.

  She wasn’t sure what had her turning her head right at that very moment, and she knew she would give fate a fleeting thought later. Christmas magic, too, though that was ridiculous.

  But on the side of the road she saw Ezra’s car.

  She slowed down, pulled over. It took her a moment to think about how safe it would be to cross a busy national road to get to him. Not very, she knew immediately. And in the same moment, she knew she’d still do it. Before she could think about it anymore, she crossed the road, taking brisk steps to the driver’s seat of his car.

  When she got there, all she saw was a mess of dark hair that told her his head was resting on the steering wheel. She rapped her knuckles against the glass, and his head shot up. Disbelief crossed his face. He blinked once, twice, and then got out of the car and pulled her into his arms.

  Her breath gushed from her lungs. Partly because it was an unexpected response; partly because she was so relieved she’d found him. She let herself melt into his arms. Told herself to enjoy being there.

  But the moment passed before she was ready, and then he took her hand and pulled her to the front of his car.

  ‘What—’

  ‘This isn’t the place
to have a conversation,’ he told her, folding his arms.

  ‘On the side of the road? I agree.’ She frowned. ‘Though it’s not like the front of the car is any safer.’

  ‘It’s safer than talking at the side of the car.’

  As if to prove his point, a car passed them, sending a force of wind their way that had her hair flying.

  Silence beat between them. Two more cars passed before either of them spoke.

  ‘Why are you here?’

  ‘Why are you?’ she shot back, strangely annoyed by the detached tone of his voice. Or the stiff way he held himself. If it hadn’t been for the hug, she’d wonder if he wanted her there.

  ‘I’m on my way home,’ he replied.

  ‘Really? I thought you had another day left at the lodge?’

  ‘I don’t.’

  The silence stretched again, and she sighed. ‘I’m sorry I left this morning, if that’s what you’re angry about.’

  ‘I’m not angry that you left.’

  ‘No? Because you’re doing a pretty good impression of—’

  ‘I’m angry that you didn’t say goodbye,’ he interrupted, his eyes flashing. ‘I know things were...strange, between us. But you didn’t say goodbye.’

  ‘We said goodbye.’ She shifted her weight to the other leg. ‘Last night.’

  ‘That wasn’t a goodbye.’

  ‘It was for me.’

  ‘Why are you here then?’ he asked. ‘Why are you driving in the opposite direction of home when you already said goodbye to me?’

  ‘There’s an accident.’

  She wasn’t sure why she said it. Probably to annoy him. When his gaze went hot, then cooled, she knew she’d succeeded.

  ‘You weren’t returning for me at all?’ he asked. She didn’t reply. ‘Or maybe you thought you’d come back to check whether I was still there? Whether I’d notice you were gone?’

  ‘No, no.’ How had this gone so pear-shaped? She sighed again, and told herself to tell him the truth and accept whatever came after. ‘The accident gave me some time to think. And I thought that...that I didn’t want to leave things the way they were—’ she lifted a hand ‘—are between us.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because...’ A little helplessly, the words spilled from her lips. ‘Because I like you, damn it. Somehow you’ve crept into my mind and other places—’ she waved her hand in the direction of her chest ‘—and I couldn’t stop thinking about how much you’ve helped me.’ The steam ran out at the end, and she shut her eyes for a moment before she continued. ‘You didn’t deserve me running.’

  Time ticked by, and he didn’t reply. Instead, he stuffed his hands into his pockets as he studied her.

  ‘You stopped. Running, I mean,’ he added. ‘I still believe that.’ Her heart ached. ‘Besides, you came back now. You’re facing it. Same like what you’re doing with your family.’

  ‘I’m trying to,’ she said genuinely. ‘Some recent realisations have shown me that I have a lot to do in that regard.’

  She released the breath that had stuck even at the thought of what she’d be going home to. She wasn’t looking forward to it. Of course, she hadn’t ever looked forward to it, but it was different now. She was different now, and she had to find a way to reconcile the guilt and responsibility she still felt with regard to her family with this different version of herself.

  ‘Ezra, I—’

  ‘No,’ he interrupted, ‘don’t say anything. Let me talk.’ But he didn’t, not for a long while. And then he sucked in air, let it out on a hiss. ‘I was coming after you.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You were right. I was supposed to check out tomorrow. I left this morning because I was coming after you.’ He paused. ‘I’ve made some poor decisions in my life, but...but you’re not one of them. You’re not Ana, and you’re not Liesel.’ He shuffled his feet. ‘I know this feels quick. But it also feels right. At least to me.’ Now he let out a breath. ‘I don’t want you to do anything that you don’t want to. But I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t ask for a chance.’

  Her lips spread even as her heart filled.

  ‘I did stop running. For family, first, yes, but now...now I’ve stopped running for you,’ she said. ‘I’m not scared that I’m going to break anymore. Which doesn’t mean I’m not scared by what I’m feeling for you. Because I am. I’m scared of losing the independence I’ve worked my entire life to get. I’m scared of the work that’s obviously going to have to go into this relationship because of that fear.’ She took a breath. ‘But I’m choosing you, Ezra. And whatever my parents’ faults were, they chose one another. They were happy.’ She paused. ‘I want a chance to be happy, too. I want to have a chance to be happy with you.’

  His lips curved into a half smile. ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  They stood like that for a few seconds, dorkily smiling at each other, before his smile sobered.

  ‘What about...everything?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she admitted. ‘I do know that it’s going to be a lot. Readjusting the way I’ve been thinking about it is going to be a long process which might not end up with me staying.’ She took his hands. ‘But I want to figure this out. With you. If you want, and...’ she trailed off, then forced herself to say the words. ‘And only if you’re really over what happened to you. It wasn’t that long ago—’

  ‘I was over Liesel long before things ended between us,’ he interrupted. ‘You’ve helped me through what happened to me. I might not be over it, but I’m working on it. On me. I’d like to keep doing that with you.’ He brushed the hair from her forehead. ‘You healed something inside of me.’

  When she sucked in a breath, he smiled.

  ‘I’m not saying I love you, Ange. But I could, someday. And I’d very much like the chance to fall.’

  His head lowered until their lips touched, and Angie nearly gasped at the lightness, the tenderness of the kiss. Like he was trying to convince her that it was okay—that it would always be okay. She ignored the hoots as the cars drove passed them, ignored the fact that they were in the middle of nowhere, kissing, and gave her own promise in the kiss.

  No matter what happened, they could figure it out. They could fall. Together.

  When he drew back, she felt slightly dizzy, and her lips spread into a smile. ‘I don’t think I would have ever believed I would be kissing a man I’d only just met in the middle of the road a week before Christmas.’

  ‘It’s the magic of the day,’ he said with a grin.

  ‘What day? It’s not technically Christmas.’

  He pulled a face. ‘Let me have this.’

  ‘It would be way too easy. It would also set a precedent I have no intention on keeping.’

  ‘Touché.’ He paused. ‘Maybe we should go back to the cabin and check whether my room is still available so I can set a precedent I do intend on keeping. Talking,’ he said with a laugh when she poked him in the stomach. ‘I meant talking.’

  ‘Sure you did.’ She tilted her head. ‘It’s not a bad idea though. Going back to the café. We could have a proper breakfast.’

  ‘We could have our first date.’

  She smiled. ‘I’m in if you are.’

  ‘I am. Come on—’ he pressed a kiss to her forehead ‘—I know just the booth.’

  Epilogue

  Christmas, one year later

  ‘Whose decision was it to host our families for Christmas?’ Angie asked, not for the first time that month.

  Or that week.

  Or that day.

  Ezra winced. ‘Ours,’ he replied, unconvincingly. ‘Because we’re married now, and my ideas are your ideas, and vice versa.’

  She stopped chopping vegetables to give him the death glare. ‘So this was your idea.’

  ‘Ours,’ he insisted again. S
he aimed the knife at him.

  ‘I swear, I will make your death look like an accident.’

  ‘I knew murder was your intention all along. I’m impressed by the long con.’

  She hissed out a breath, then shook her head. ‘I genuinely hope you don’t die in mysterious circumstances. Considering how much you’re clinging to this murder thing, I wouldn’t be surprised if you carried a note in your wallet detailing your suspicions that your wife might be poisoning you.’

  ‘Nah. You’re much too bloodthirsty for poison.’

  She barely looked up at him now, and he realised he pushed his luck as far as it would go. He valued his life. A new life, he thought, and nearly let a smile slip past his basic human instinct to live. Instead, he grabbed a knife and helped her chop the rest of the vegetables, enjoying the rhythm of it.

  Of the task, and of how appropriately it described his new life—his wife, annoyed beside him as they tackled existence together.

  He couldn’t have been happier.

  He would never have said it aloud since he knew he was being a little dopey. And no matter how much he tried to snap out of it, he couldn’t. It was the time of year that had changed his entire life. He met his wife a year before, and their life together since had been solid.

  Not quite the sexy word he thought should describe dating—though there had been plenty of sexiness in between—but it suited what they’d been through, right from the moment they’d left Caledon one year before. He had been nervous about what he’d be returning to. He’d been worried about what Angie would be returning to, too. But they agreed to meet their families separately that day, and meet again that evening for a debriefing.

  His reconciliation with his family had been somewhat predictable. They opened their arms to him, told him he’d been an idiot for doing what he’d done, and then it was over. He had their unconditional support when he introduced Angie a month later. He hadn’t even got so much as an eyebrow raise when he told them he wanted to marry her seven months after that. Which of course proved to him he’d been an idiot for doubting them at all.