Free for the Wedding

by Briggs, Laura

  The groom nodded, though he looked as if her words escaped him. Leaning over to give Heather a consoling peck on the cheek, he said, “I’ll see you at dinner. And don’t worry about the vows–I know you can write them ’cause I’ve already fallen in love your writing before.”

  A remark that caused both her and Val to blush, for very different reasons.

  *****

  The hotel’s ballroom, so elegant in its spread for the brochure, seemed more like a school gymnasium on prom night. The glass walls and French doors were the only details recognizable from the pamphlet, as Val arrived to find a 90’s party theme. Presumably another throwback to the days of their youth.

  Clear Christmas lights hung from the rafters, the grand tapestries removed from the wall to make way for a large projector screen. This ran a constant cycle of slides taken from grainy yearbook pictures and newspaper clippings. The couple’s romantic journey set to the music of their childhood, as classic pop tunes echoed from the speakers.

  Val had arrived late, teetering on a pair of three-inch heels. Her dark blue dress was a flattering spread skirt style that embraced her curves in all the right places. Her hair was swept back with jeweled hair clips in the best style her nervous fingers were capable of forming.

  Two days.

  Something Riley had said came back to her with a vengeance as she scanned the room for the bridal couple. Their faces were nowhere to be seen among the crowd of classmates and newly arrived family members here to celebrate the big moment.

  Within forty-eight hours, her friends would say ‘I do,’ oblivious to the truth behind their magical love story. While she was here, knowing the real story and watching the cracks appear in their romance at the last minute.

  “Isn’t this lovely?” beamed an elderly woman whom Val was able to place as an aunt of the bride’s. “Such a sweet touch with the photographs too. Just remarkable how they found each other after so much time.”

  “Amazing,” Val agreed. Accidentally sloshing some punch onto the tablecloth as she filled a glass to occupy her hands. The faint whiff of vodka drifted from the pink liquid, making her wonder which joker had failed to put the days of school pranks behind them.

  Stationing herself by the French doors, she used a conveniently placed plant to shield herself from the noisy festivities. Someone had revived the Macarena on the dance floor, inspired by the song of the same name blasting from the collection of decade hits.

  Her gaze turned to face the glass, where the same view lay that was visible from her bedroom window. A circular ornamental pond with a dock stretched across the middle. Lanterns hung from its rafters, illuminating the planks and the blue water that splashed against them.

  She had a fleeting thought to escape, her fingers touching the door handle. Just to sit in silence and clear her head a while before facing the rest of this nightmarish week. Her fantasy crumbled as a man’s voice spoke from close by.

  “If you’re hiding back here, you should know this plant has too many gaps for camaflogue.”

  Riley parted the green branches to reveal a pokerfaced expression. Probably he was hesitant to crack a smile until he knew this afternoon’s display was forgiven. A subject best avoided from now on, in Val’s estimation.

  “I’m not hiding,” she answered. Raising her punch glass for emphasis, she said, “Just enjoying a quiet glass of punch and a nice view.”

  He glanced past her to the serene landscape, the water that reflected a blue sheen in the soft light. Bitterness cropped into his expression. “I was a jerk today," he said. "What I did in the lounge, the whole competition bit. It was beyond stupid.”

  This was true but she didn’t want to rub it in. His regret during their earlier confrontation had been enough to melt her anger. On the other hand, she didn’t want to make it easy for him to pull a similar stunt in the time they had left.

  Taking a casual sip from her punch, she said, “I convinced them you were joking. So if anyone asks, you’re a world class prankster instead of a lunatic.”

  “All this stuff,” he said. "The lying and the exaggerated details. I know it's over the top. It’s only because I’m fighting for you–”

  He paused, as if confused by his own words. "I mean, fighting to make you seem like the success you are. Because you deserve a chance to shine.”

  A stumble, a slip of speech. It was obvious he misspoke or at least meant it differently than it sounded. She pretended not to notice.

  "If what you really want is for that guy to look at you in this one last chance, then I'll help make it happen." These words made her flush with a sense of guilt. Did he think she was trying to steal Jason away? That this was all about a nobody trying to prove to her secret crush that she was the perfect choice?

  Because she didn't. Didn't want to steal him, that is. If for some reason he and Heather weren't meant to be, then that was another story. Her cheeks were scarlet, feelings of self-reproach assailing her with each thought.

  "I know what you're trying to say," she answered. "But it's not like that. I'm not trying to break up Heather and Jason. And while I appreciate that you wanted to make me seem better than I am–"

  "Who said that's what I'm trying to do?" he frowned. "I said I tried to make people see you for what you are. You make it sound like I'm trying to sell a–an inferior product or something."

  That's what you do for a living, she thought, so maybe that's what you're doing now. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the glass, looking hard at herself. She was far from the perfect beauty of Heather or the confident pose she had seen in top-tiered women executives.

  She was still the same girl as always. Still carrying the same crush for the boy of her dreams years later.

  The dance floor was thinning now, clusters of guests forming around the gift station, where a bottle of champagne was chilling for the toast later. The bridal couple had arrived: Jason’s arm was draped around his fiancée as both of them attended to separate conversations. Heather inching away from him to catch something one of her bridesmaids’ said about the crab cakes.

  Still arguing about the vows? She felt a pang of sympathy for the bride, with her crumpled compositions.

  The Macarena had died away, the slide show changing from school dance pictures to a grown-up romance. Recent photos of the bride and groom flooded the screen, an acoustic guitar strumming a semi-familiar opening rift.

  “Kiss me,” said Riley.

  The words were stated matter-of-factly, startling her after the stretch of silence. “The song,” he explained. “It’s, uh, Sixpence None the Richer.”

  “Yeah.” She let out an embarrassed laugh. “Of course. A big hit. Sounds like the perfect cue for the wedding couple.”

  Neither the bride nor the groom seemed to notice it was playing, she realized. They were talking in hushed tones about something away from their group of friends. Their faces close together, though Heather’s was angled to study the doorway.

  “Care to dance?” Riley gazed at her, a half-smile on his face. His hand drawing her from behind the plant display before she could protest. "I mean, I don't expect it to be romantic for you to dance with a total stranger–"

  "You're not a stranger," she said. "Not anymore. I think we kind of passed that stage of our relationship."

  "Relationship," he repeated. "That sounds kind of nice, doesn't it?" His tone was still humorous, the only thing which allowed her to hear these words without a blush of discomfit.

  “You look nice, by the way,” he said, spinning her away him. “This is a good chance to show that off. The dance floor, I mean.”

  “Not everything has to be about making me look great," she said. "Especially since you kind of steal the spotlight these days. I'm pretty sure your stories have half the single women here swooning with envy for me.” Her hand rested against his shoulder with an ease that surprised her.

  He looked pleased if slightly skeptical with this analysis, a flush creeping across his face. “First impressions
are everything in business. So those stories are just my way of making your first impression as the ‘new’ you a perfect presentation. I mean, you have the personality and appearance down, so it’s just about me sort of … reminding them.”

  Guiding her towards the middle of the floor, he added, “The things I said about you were true, though. The circumstances may be different, but you really are fun and impulsive and…sexy. ”

  Sexy? Her? No one had ever called her that before, not even flirtatious clients who had a little too much to drink at the ‘Eventful Moments’ complementary luncheons.

  “Thank you,” she said, aware her face was flaming with this compliment. “But you do come on a little strong in some places,” she reminded him, although, in a softer tone. “I mean, some girls think a marriage proposal is overdoing it for a compliment.”

  “Maybe so,” he laughed. His body relaxed beneath her touch, their movement fluid even as they seemed to forget the music.

  “But it was an emergency tactic,” he added. “And kind of the ultimate proof of your influence. How warm you are; how you can draw someone to you without even trying …”

  He wasn’t making this part up. At least, that was the impression Val’s heart was forming, the flutter in her chest making it difficult to meet his gaze. As if the string of compliments were something more than a friendly gesture to boost her self-esteem.

  She recalled the moments he drew her with his impulsive, even a little irresistible, charms at the golf course and the hotel dinner. The hopeless look in his brown gaze that tugged at her heart, first at the rental agency and later in Maryland.

  They were close now, closer than the playful moment on the golf course. She became aware of his breath stirring her hair, the scent of his cologne. Her fingers pressing his jacket lapel as a misstep forced her to place her weight against him.

  "Sorry," she said. He didn't move aside in response to her weight in his arms.

  "That's all right." The softness of his voice surprised her. As did the comfort she felt with this closeness, the warmth of his body against her own.

  He continued to hold her close, even as the couples around them twirled apart. Their movements slowing despite the song’s build to an upbeat crescendo.

  “Maybe you’re right,” he mused suddenly, dark eyes flooded with something indefinable. “Maybe a subtle tactic is better than going overboard. We should try something simpler.”

  As if to demonstrate, he leaned in and brushed his mouth against hers. Kissing her, in a faint, soft motion that was a brief pressure of tenderness.

  So brief, so unexpected, the gesture stole her breath. A tingle of electricity passing through her as their lips met. Like a spark burning deep inside, her eyes growing wide as she gazed up to meet his brown orbs.

  “Riley…” She was fumbling for words, her mind struggling to absorb the sensation between them. The taste of his mouth against hers for that startling moment.

  He moved as if to speak, to apologize or maybe to explain. When something else happened to interrupt, Val’s tumbling emotions caught in two different directions with the sound of raised voices across the room.

  "You don’t get it! I NEVER answered that note, so I can’t duplicate something I didn’t write!”

  Shaking off Jason’s grip, the bride stormed towards the exit. His pleas for her to come back were muffled by the throb of the music. One of the groomsmen caught hold of his arm before he could leave. “Let it go man,” he said. "She'll cool off. Probably." There was a slightly nervous tone in his voice.

  Val glanced at Riley’s face, then back at her friends. Confusion churned through her as she watched the angry bride disappearing in the crowd of guests quickly.

  “I’ll be back,” she said. Feeling his fingers grasp at her hand as she pulled away. Pushing past the clusters of shocked guests, she followed the departing bride's path as quickly as high heels permitted.

  Which wasn’t quick enough, as she reached the door in time to see Heather had vanished. Breathless, she leaned against the door frame, feeling a sense of frustration. Instinctively, she glanced towards the dance floor, where Riley's figure was no longer visible.

  Was he embarrassed by that impromptu gesture on the dance floor? Her mind flashed to the half-hopeful look on his face as he gazed down at her after the kiss – surely she imagined that, had planted it there in a moment of impulse herself. Perhaps he had slipped away to his room, now that his “good deed” in boosting her impression was over.

  Although, even she wasn’t clear what her goal was at this pivotal moment when everything seemed to be spinning out of control for her friends.

  The projector’s screen continued to display pictures of the couple embracing, laugher in their eyes as they faced the camera. A new song streamed through the speakers, no one dancing as word spread of what just took place.

  Val stumbled back towards the French doors, not sure where she was going exactly. Until she saw a figure vanishing down the path to the ornamental pond.

  The groom’s stride was unmistakable, his golden hair visible beneath the lanterns, the spikes ruffled by a frustrated hand. Val watched him stroll to the end of the dock and grip the rail, head hanging in a look of despair.

  Drawing a deep breath, she followed him.

  CHAPETR THIRTEEN

  The hall at Wardruff High seemed vast and deserted as most of the kids hurried away the day before summer break. Most everyone had already packed up their lockers for the season, a handful of lingering students still collecting papers and books.

  Val was one of those still present, her legs shaking with dread as she moved towards the row of metal lockers. In her hand was the folded slip of paper she had labored over for hours.

  The locker beside the water fountain was wide open, a golden haired boy sorting its items into a cardboard box. Something in his manner was forlorn for a kid about to receive three months of academic freedom.

  Val paused. As her thoughts echoed a series of lines in the letter she held.

  “…if you truly care–and I think you do–please, don’t let this be a thorn between us. Don’t even mention it, not even if we’re alone. I trust you do this, so we can start fresh ... when I'm ready, when the time is right, you'll know how I feel about you.”

  “This is yours,” she said, extending the piece of paper before her. He turned around at the sound of her voice.

  His eyes glanced into hers as he took hold of it.

  “She said ‘no’ didn’t she?” There was a note of sadness in his voice.

  Val’s heart raced with the one question she was hoping more than anything to avoid.

  “Not exactly,” she said. “She likes you. She just...can't tell you about it. Not yet.”

  He shoved it into his pocket. His arms collected the cardboard box of random items as he swung the locker door closed. “Bye Valarie,” he said. "See you later."

  His back to her, he couldn't see the tears forming in her eyes as she watched him walk away.

  *****

  Val hesitated beneath the canopy of lanterns. The flood of light illuminated the hotel’s ornamental pond, as well as the figure at the end of the dock. His shoulders were slumped in a rejected look as he gazed over the rail at the water below.

  Her step was quiet on the grass, but somehow he sensed her presence. Turning around with a hopeful look that told her he wanted someone to be there.

  Who, she didn’t have to guess. His anticipation faded to a wry smile.

  “Hey,” he said. “Seemed like a nice time for a walk.” His voice cracked with these words.

  The joke fell flat, but she smiled anyway. “It’s beautiful out here,” she said, nodding towards the blanket of water. “Very peaceful.”

  “Yeah.” He cast a glance in the pond’s direction. “I pictured Heather and me slipping out here for some quiet time this week. Maybe a secret midnight meeting the night before the wedding. Stupid, I know.”

  She shook her head. “It’s a romantic thou
ght. I'm sure she'd love it.”

  “Think so? Lately it seems like she’s offended by everything I do. ”

  A cynical laugh followed this, fingers rumpling his hair again. “She’s right you know–I’m hopeless. I took a simple childhood crush and turned it into the romance of the century. Like I didn't even see the next part of the story.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with feeling deeply,” she argued. “As long as it’s real and not just wishful thinking.”

  “I’ve never believed anything more in my life," he answered. There was a note of passion in his voice. "Me and Heather are meant to be together. When I read those words it was…how can put this? It was like I never knew anything about love before. It was like I had a promise I could hold onto. There was something special in her smiles from then on. Sure, I dated other girls in high school and afterwards –but her words were always in the back of mind.”

  “It meant that much to you?” She was stunned, a tremor stealing through her.

  “She became the love my life,” he said softly. “Too bad I didn’t become hers.”

  Val’s heart ached with sympathy. She drifted to the rail, her fingers gripping it for support. Now was the time to reveal what she knew, to finish the story of the note in its entirety.

  “Jason, this is all my fault.” She paused, feeling his eyes study her from mere feet away. “I should have told you years ago, but I didn’t want to lose your friendship.”

  This wasn’t making sense, she knew. Her heart pounded as if to leave her chest, her eyes seeking his own with these words. “I’ll understand if you hate me.”

  “What is this about, Val?” He was close enough that she could see his features easily in the lantern’s glow. Confusion lined his brow as he awaited the explanation.

  “That note–the one you gave to Heather. She didn’t answer it. She never even read it.” Val’s gaze dropped to the dock below. "I did.”