by Belva Plain
–—
After her parents had driven off Laura walked back to the house slowly. As she’d told her mother, Nick’s part of their project was all but done. He had photographed the preparations as they went forward, step-by-step; now all he had to do was come back on the wedding day to finish up his shoot. One day. Twelve hours.
It wasn’t as if they’d been able to spend that much time together. They hadn’t talked seriously again—not after that one lunch. But they didn’t seem to need to do that; it was as if a connection had been established between them and all they had to do was be in the same room to feel it. Laura couldn’t explain it, she didn’t even want to try, she just knew that the feeling had gotten to be as necessary to her as eating or drinking. She found herself looking forward to the little moments during the day when he would take a break in his work and so would she. They’d have a glass of water or iced tea and they’d chat about everyday things. Things that would be much more important later when she looked back and remembered who had said what—or when she replayed in her imagination the way Nick had brushed the hair out of his eyes. Or the way his fingers had curled around his glass. She and Nick laughed a lot during those short breaks; she would remember that too—although she couldn’t always remember what they had laughed about. Maybe it was just that the world seemed like a happier place when they were standing side by side, drinking iced tea. The strange part was, she never doubted that he was feeling everything she was feeling.
She liked to watch him work. He’d set up a shot patiently and meticulously, and then he’d beam with pleasure when he’d gotten exactly the effect he wanted. She enjoyed the way he made her feel when he was taking pictures of her, the care he took with angles and lighting as if she were some rare and beautiful creature. Once, when Diana and Jeff were off in another part of the house, he made her sit at her kitchen table and talk about her childhood. She chattered on about her family, and Nana’s house, and pets cherished and long gone, while he took shot after shot of her with his handheld camera.
“Those pictures will be terrible,” she told him when he finally said they were finished. “I didn’t even put on fresh lipstick.”
“They’re what I wanted. They’re pictures of you talking about things you’ve loved.”
The way he said it stirred something inside her that was frightening. “How will you use them in the book?” she whispered.
“They’re not for the book, they’re for me.”
After that, there were times when she’d look up from whatever she was doing, to catch Nick staring at her. The air between them would crackle with tension, and she would want to run. But then Nick would crack a joke and she would laugh and the tension would melt away. Until the next time.
So three months had flown by without Laura noticing it. And then one afternoon—was it only a few weeks ago? because it seemed so much longer—as he was standing in her doorway, ready to leave, Nick had said, “Tomorrow I’ll be done, Laura. Except for the shots on the wedding day.” And his voice, which was always so alive, was flat.
For a moment she hadn’t understood him, it was like he was speaking a foreign language. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve finished my work. After tomorrow, I won’t be coming back anymore. Until the wedding. For one day.” They had stared at each other then, and she had felt like something inside her was ripping apart. But before she could say anything he had turned and walked out the door.
The next day he’d worked quickly and quietly—they both had. There had been no iced tea, no joking, no little moments of chat. He’d taken his final shots, then he’d told Diana and Jeff to pack up the gear and meet him back at the studio. He’d barely said good-bye to Laura, and he’d driven away without a backward glance.
Now Laura looked around her. The sun was shining; people had been saying what a lovely summer it was. She knew in her mind that it was, but she couldn’t make herself see it. Ever since the taillights of Nick’s car had disappeared at the end of her driveway it was as if a gray fog had descended around her, blocking out everything else.
Chapter Nineteen
No matter how down she felt, Laura had a wedding to put on. There was a cake to be covered in buttercream daisies and roses, there were tables to be set up in the ballroom and the flower baskets to be hung around it—those pretty baskets that she’d designed to suggest springtime and romance—and there were more flower garlands to be draped over the balustrades of the terrace where the newly married couple would circulate as the cocktails were served. And if it felt like a cruel joke that she was creating a party to celebrate love and joy when her own days were so gray, she told herself to get over it. At some point this obsession—or whatever it was—with Nick would go away. His absence would starve it to death. Or, at the very least, she would grow accustomed to the aching she felt inside. She would have to.
So three days before the wedding, after Katie and Robby had gone off to school and work respectively, Laura had jammed on her old straw hat to protect herself from the sun, picked up her checklist and started for the backyard. She always hired a crew of part-time workers for the final push before a big event, and she wanted to write down everything that needed to be done so that they wouldn’t waste valuable time.
First, she was going to check the gazebo; she’d had it painted earlier in the spring, but since this was where the ceremony would be held, she had to make sure the work had been done properly and no touch-ups were needed before the folding chairs were set up.
It was not yet nine o’clock but it was already warm outside. The rose gardens that surrounded her back lawn were in full bloom. Laura’s bleak mood lightened as she climbed the steps to the gazebo. She closed her eyes and breathed in the flower-scented air. What did the smell of roses remind her of? Some spice, but she couldn’t place it. She’d have to ask Nick. She opened her eyes. She was going to have to stop thinking like that. Nick was gone—he would be, after one more day—and she was going to have to accept it.
But she wasn’t going to have to accept it just yet. Because Nick was standing in front of her.
Laura whipped off the ugly old hat. “I didn’t … I thought …” she stammered. “I thought you weren’t coming back until the wedding.”
“I wasn’t supposed to.” He climbed the three steps up to the platform of the gazebo. He was standing close to her now. Somehow it felt like that first morning, when he’d found her playing on the lawn with Molly. It had been warm then too. Was it a million years ago? The sweet, heavy air was all around her, making her dizzy. I’ve been so unhappy, she wanted to say to him. I’ve missed you every day. But the air and the heat and dizziness were making it impossible for her to speak.
He seemed to be having trouble too. “Laura,” he finally managed to get out, “I came because I …” He stopped. “Because I wanted …”
And then her back was against the post of the gazebo and his mouth was on hers. And it was soft and firm all at once. There was a sigh from one of them, or maybe it was both of them, she wasn’t sure, and then his mouth—his firm, soft mouth—wandered over her face and neck and she was clinging to him to keep from sliding down to the floor of the gazebo, because all the strength had left her legs. His body against hers was warm and strong and his green-blue eyes were shining, and when he finally pulled away from her, they both were breathing hard, as if they’d just run for miles.
“I had to come here,” he said.
There were things she should say now. Responsible, mature things. Even with the warm, flower-scented air swirling around her, and with the feel of his mouth and hands still on her, she knew this. But he reached out to stroke her hair, and she let her head tilt to one side so she could feel his fingers. And she couldn’t think of one responsible thing to say.
“I’ve lost my hat,” she said instead.
“And a thing of beauty it was too.”
That was when they both started to laugh. They laughed because they didn’t know what else to do. They laughe
d because they were both the kind of people who loved to laugh. For a few moments the silent air rang with the sound. Nick drew her to him again. “No more hiding now,” he whispered. “It’s out in the open now.”
The words brought her to her senses—a little, at least. “Nick, I don’t even know you …”
“Yes you do. But what specifically did you have in mind? Favorite books? I read junky detective novels, biographies, and when I’m being grand, I’ll dip into a little Shakespeare. Music? I listen to opera because my mother sang it, but basically I like anything with a beat. Food? Whatever you cook.”
“That wasn’t what I meant.”
“You can learn the rest. We have time.”
“No we don’t. We can’t …”
He wouldn’t let her finish. “This is right. Laura. We didn’t ask for it or plan it. But it’s right. And you know it, darling.”
She did know it. And when he put his arms around her it all seemed so easy. But of course it wasn’t. Or was it?
There was a sound coming from the front of the house, she and Nick turned to see a car coming up the driveway. It was followed by a second. The first driver beeped the horn in greeting, and two of Laura’s crew, Angie and Marina, emerged from their vehicles and began chattering loudly as they made their way to the kitchen door. The workday had begun.
“Talk about bad timing!” Nick said. “Or was it? Should I be glad we’ve been interrupted?”
“I don’t know.”
He nodded. “I should go.”
“Yes.”
He started for the driveway, then turned back. “I’ve been lonely without you.”
“I know.”
“I’ll see you at the wedding.”
“Yes, at the wedding.”
“Just remember that I … Oh God, I love you, Laura. I didn’t want to, but I do.”
“Thanks for the compliment.” She tried to make a joke because otherwise she was going to start crying and the crew mustn’t see her tears.
But this time he didn’t laugh. “You know what I mean.”
“Yes,” she told him. “I do.”
He turned to go. But then he turned back. “I love you, and we can work this out,” he said, then he left her standing in the sunshine.
Maybe somehow they could.
She started back to the house. The grayness was gone now. All around her were colors that were almost too bright. He loves me. Nick loves me!
But then pain, hard and deep, sliced, and she stopped moving. I have a little girl. I’m a married woman. I have a family I can’t disappoint … I have a mother I can’t disappoint … She started walking again. No, damn it, that’s ridiculous. I’m an adult. A woman my age should not be worried about what her mother thinks. It’s absurd.
She almost managed to convince herself of that, and for the rest of the morning she felt freer than she had in years. Then the mail came. Mixed in with the pile of bills and advertisements was a postcard. It was from the thrift shop on Madison Avenue—the one where she and Katie had seen the portrait with the big dark eyes. Iris’s eyes.
Laura threw the postcard in the trash. I’m not superstitious, she told herself. I don’t believe in signs and omens. The store is having a sale and they contacted me—that’s all. But the damage had been done. She remembered the portrait. And the portrait reminded her of Iris.
I love you, Nick had said.
I love you, please don’t disappoint me, her mother had said all of her life.
We can work this out, Nick had said.
Be my golden girl, her mother had begged silently with her big tragic eyes.
Chapter Twenty
There had never been a more perfect day for a wedding, everyone agreed. Laura had been up early, unable to sleep. She’d checked the tables in the ballroom and the rows of sparkling champagne glasses sitting on the bar, ready to be filled. She’d opened the refrigerator to see the neat trays full of hors d’oeuvres waiting to be removed and baked. She’d done all this, but of course this last-minute review was not the reason she’d been awake before dawn.
Nick was coming. She would see him again. It made her heart sing like it belonged to a teenager. Although she couldn’t remember ever feeling this sharp-edged joy when she was young. No, this emotion was reserved for adults who had learned the hard way how incredibly rare and precious it was. And yet …
There are people I can’t disappoint.
And yet …
My heart is pounding just at the thought of seeing him again.
–—
When he walked in the front door, he was wearing a suit.
“It’s the first time I’ve seen you dressed up,” she said.
“Same here,” he said. She wasn’t a member of the wedding party—she had to work, overseeing everything—but she had dressed for the day, and her lace tea gown was the same soft yellow as the dresses the bridesmaids were wearing. It was a very flattering shade for a redhead.
She and Nick smiled at each other awkwardly, like two kids about to go to their first dance.
“The last time I felt like this, I had a corsage in my hand,” he murmured.
“And I was wearing one.”
Behind him, Diana and Jeff were coming through the door with his equipment. Behind her, the waiters and waitresses were assembling for their last-minute instructions. The wedding was due to begin in twenty minutes.
“I’ll start setting up for shots of the ballroom while it’s still empty,” he said.
“And you should probably get a picture of us putting the top on the cake,” she said.
But neither of them moved. “We’ll talk later,” he said finally.
“Yes, later.”
–—
The ceremony was conducted by a justice of the peace since neither the bride nor the groom was religious. When the man began speaking Laura looked over at Robby, who was sitting with her family. She watched him lean in and whisper something in Iris’s ear, and she watched her mother smile back at him. This moment wasn’t easy for Iris, Laura knew. Iris was glad that Steve was getting married and happy about the wife he’d chosen. But it was hard for the daughter of Joseph Friedman to watch another of her children marry without the old rituals or a rabbi. Laura had been the first in the Stern family to have such a wedding and Iris had mourned for the entire day. Now, as she smiled at Robby, she just looked wistful. We do get used to things, Laura thought. A little, at least.
But the promises the couple were making were the same as those made in a traditional wedding. Everyone who gets married makes them, with or without mentioning God, Laura thought as she watched her brother and Christina. We say to each other, I’ll stick it out with you, no matter what. I’ll be the one person who loves you, no matter what. You can trust me, no matter what. Those are the promises we make … I made those promises once.
The ceremony was over. Across from her, Nick was taking pictures of Steve kissing Christina as if there were no one else in the world. In the seats, Robby reached over and squeezed Iris’s hand as everyone clapped for the bride and groom. Next they would all go to the terrace. Everything was moving along beautifully. Laura looked at Steve and Christina smiling at each other. I made those promises once.
–—
The band on the terrace was playing, and people chattered over it as the cocktails were served.
Lovely, lovely day.
This terrace is divine.
What a beautiful place to hold a wedding.
Did you ever think anyone would get Steve Stern down the aisle?
Waiters carried platters of hors d’oeurvres: crisp little bites of buttery pastry and savory fillings. On one side of the terrace, Laura saw Robby fill a plate for Katie. On the other side, Nick was taking pictures of the flower garlands. Laura’s head began to ache. From the moment Nick had said the words “I love you,” her world had had a brightly colored glow. But now it was starting to fade. She began shepherding the crowd into the ballroom for dinner.
�
��—
Everyone was seated at the tables. Salads followed the appetizers, the service smooth as a well-oiled machine. Dinner music played under the clatter of silverware and china and the roar of one hundred and fifty people talking. Jimmy, who was the best man, made a toast and there was laughter. Phil said a few words and there was more laughter. Theo stood up to speak and there wasn’t a dry eye in the room. The food kept coming in a steady stream: asparagus in a lemon vinaigrette; rice with mushrooms; tournedos of beef, chicken marsala or salmon poached in wine, take your pick.
The bride danced with the groom. She danced with Phil, who had walked her down the aisle—her father had died when she was a child. She danced with Jimmy. Nick was everywhere taking pictures of the dancers, making sure he was getting the right shot. Robby was beside Laura and he wanted to dance. She let him lead her out to the floor. Nick stopped taking pictures.
Iris wanted a family portrait and so all the Sterns lined up. Laura stood between Iris and Robby. Katie was in front of her. Nick told them all to smile. She watched him take her picture as she was surrounded by her husband, her daughter and her mother. And she watched him see what she’d known since the ceremony. She had made promises. She was the kind of person who kept the promises she’d made.
The wedding went on. The cake was cut. There was more dancing, there were more good wishes for health and happiness. Finally the bride disappeared, and reappeared dressed for travel. The bouquet was thrown and caught amid squeals of laughter. The couple ran to the groom’s car as the birdseed Laura had provided was tossed. And they were gone. All the months of planning, all the weeks of hard work, had culminated in this day, and it was over. The guests began leaving.
It was such a beautiful party, Iris.
Theo, you must be so proud.
