He turns to me and puts his hands on either side of my face, squeezing my cheeks until I have to work to keep my lips from puckering out. “Oh, hell, baby. I thought it was you.”
I pull his hands away from my face. “Can we talk about this later, maybe?”
He starts to nod, but then his eyes darken, and my lungs tighten.
“No,” he says. I close my eyes. When he speaks again, I can feel the anger in his voice. “How are we supposed to talk when you won’t return my phone calls?”
“I’ll call you, I swear.” I open my eyes wide and give him my most earnest look. “Just go. Please”
He shakes his head. “No. I’m not afraid to talk in front of these people. I have nothing to hide.”
“Fine, I’ll talk to you now, but can we at least take it outside, please?” I whisper harshly. “This is my sister’s wedding.”
“Yeah, and what do you think is going to happen once you shuffle me out of here?” His voice is so loud there’s an echo. “You’re gonna promise to call me, and then I’ll never hear from you again. No, if it takes humiliating myself in front of all these people to get you to talk to me, then let’s do it. Right here.”
I freeze as it occurs to me that there will be no getting out of this gracefully. My drunk ex-fiancé is ruining my sister’s wedding and I am powerless to stop it. Panic clutches at my abdomen and my nausea begins to intensify.
I feel a hand brush the small of my back as someone sidles up beside me. Gratitude rushes through me and I turn, expecting Dad who will fix everything, the way he always does.
But it isn’t Dad. It’s Will. He steps closer to Seth and locks eyes with him.
“Hey, man.” Will’s voice soft and sandpapery and kind, and I feel a lump of affection forming in my throat. “You look like you could use a drink.”
The affection wanes. What?
Seth runs his fingers through his hair. “Yeah, no shit.”
Will smiles, keeping his eyes on Seth. “I’ve got some Jim Beam in my car. Why don’t we all go out and get it and then maybe you two can talk?”
I blink, staring at Will. What the hell does he think he’s doing, offering Seth a drink? Can’t he see the man is already drunk? Is he crazy? But before I can tell him to mind his own damn business, he’s escorting Seth peaceably out the door. I shoot Ella a helpless look, and she blows me a kiss and waves me on. I blow one back, mouth an “I’m sorry,” and stumble again as I turn and stalk out of the church, my focus on my feet and my mind on murder.
“I can’t believe you did that,” I say to Seth when I catch up to them outside.
“I’m sorry, Car,” he says, although he doesn’t sound sorry. He sounds angry. “I thought you were getting married.”
I shake my head and sigh. “And how is that an excuse? Interrupting weddings is what crazy people do. Sane people make a phone call.”
We stare at each other in icy silence.
“Hey, you two talk,” Will says, stepping back away from us. “I’ll just…”
He ducks off toward the parking lot, disappearing behind the church. Seth turns to me, his face cold with anger. I clench and unclench my fists, trying to control the shaking in my hands.
“Seth…” I begin, but I don’t know where to go with the conversation, a conversation I’ve been trying to finish for eight months, with limited success.
Seth holds up his hands and lets them fall. “Forget it, Carly. Just forget it. Tell Ella I’m sorry and just forget it, okay?”
I sigh. “Seth, you have to get past this—”
“You know what your problem is, Carly?” he says, his voice harsh.
“I have an idea,” I say, staring him down.
He leans forward, his eyes flitting over mine. “You have no faith.”
I’m thrown for a moment. Where the hell did that come from?
“Okay, Seth,” I say. “Well, gee, it’s been great to see you—”
“You had no faith in me,” he says. “You had no faith in us. We hit a rough spot. Lots of couples do. That’s what marriage is, seeing through the rough spots.”
My stomach is heaving like a ship at sea. I don’t know what to say, but I have to say something. “Isn’t it better to know now that I can’t do that? That I’m not ready?”
“Ready has nothing to do with it,” he says. “No one’s ever ready. You either love someone enough, or you don’t. So, you don’t. Maybe you never did. Maybe I’m just an idiot to have ever believed you.”
A sharp pain stabs through my stomach. “No. Seth—”
“I don’t understand, Car,” he says. “I never lied to you. I never cheated. I didn’t even used to drink—”
He lets out a huff of ironic laughter. I take a deep breath to fight the stabbing sensation which has moved into my chest.
“Seth, I said I’m sorry, a thousand times. I can’t say it anymore. You just have to accept it and move on.”
Seth glances up at the church, and I can see the hurt on his face, as fresh as it was eight months ago, on the night I moved my stuff out of his house and back into my old room at home.
“That should have been us in there today,” he says. “We were happy. Weren’t we happy?”
“Yeah,” I say weakly. “Sure.” I thought we were. Maybe. I don’t know. God, I’m so bad at this. Answers keep running through my head, and yet none of them seem quite right, and obviously none of them will be good enough for Seth. I don’t know what he wants from me, but I’m pretty damn sure that whatever it is, I don’t have it. Guilt, anger, and frustration all circle around me, tightening and intensifying, making it hard to breathe.
“I don’t know what else to say, Seth,” I say flatly. I force myself to look him in the eye, but I can’t hold the contact, so I stare at the church. “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah,” he says, his eyes squinty, red and cold. “I know.”
He throws his arm out in frustration and I flinch away instinctively, even though I know Seth would never hit me. I hear soft footsteps to my left and I turn to see Will moving silently into position beside me. Either he was watching us from the side of the church or he has the best timing in the world. I don’t really care; I’m just relieved to have him there.
“Who the hell are you, anyway?” Seth asks as Will situates himself slightly in front of me, his stance protective yet not aggressive.
“I’m a friend,” Will says, his voice calm and even. “You’re obviously having a bad day, man. Maybe it’s time to go home and sleep it off.”
Seth’s eyes narrow and he steps back. He looks from me to Will and then back at me. I can tell he’s adding up two and two in his mind, and I’m not the least bit inclined to correct the wrong impression he’s getting.
“A friend, huh?” He lets out a bitter laugh, and anger flashes over his face. “Best of luck to you, man. You’re gonna need it.”
Will steps directly between us then, which is brave. He’s a bit taller than Seth, but Seth easily has twenty pounds on Will. And Will doesn’t look like much of a fighter. But still, he stands firmly there between us, and if I were Seth, I wouldn’t try to move him.
“I can call you a cab.” Will’s tone is kind, but there’s an edge in his words that says he means business. Seth stares at him, and for a moment I’m horrified by the idea that they might actually start fighting right there in front of St. Michael’s. Finally, Seth takes a step back, and I start to breathe again.
“Whatever,” Seth says, glancing away toward the road. “She’s all yours, man. I’m done.”
He stuffs his hands in his pockets and starts off down the street, heading toward the bus stop a block and a half away. I step out from behind Will and watch as Seth veers down the sidewalk, head down and shoulders hunched.
“You weren’t actually going to hit him, were you?”
Will shrugs. “I think there’s a chance I would have gotten in a swing or two before he pummeled me, sure.”
I let out a small laugh. “You didn’t have any a
lcohol in your car, did you?”
His eyes meet mine, and there’s a twinkle of a smile there. “There’s some Nyquil in the glove compartment, but I think it’s expired.”
I laugh again, and then my smile fades as my eyes trail after Seth.
“Thank you,” I say quietly.
I feel a light touch on my elbow. I turn my head to see Will staring down at me, his face full with kindness and concern.
“You okay?”
“Oh, yeah,” I say quickly. “I’m fine.”
“I know we don’t know each other very well,” he says gently, “but if you want to talk…”
His eyes are a crystalline blue, and in the sun, they seem to sparkle on their own power. They’re exactly the eyes you want to pour your soul out to. Soft. Kind. Smiling. Nice eyes.
I look away. There will be no soul-pouring today. I’m just not that kind of girl.
“You know what I don’t get?” I say to fill the silence. “What I don’t get is why people even get married in the first place. I mean, it can only end in one of two ways, right? Death or divorce. That’s it. Why do that to yourself?”
Will chuckles. “That’s quite an attitude to have on the day of your sister’s wedding.”
I allow a small smile. “Believe it or not, this is my sunny side.”
Dimples show through his light stubble as he smiles back at me. “I don’t believe it.”
“You calling me a liar?” I ask in mock offense.
“Yeah,” he says, a chuckle in his voice. “I guess I am.”
I feel my cheeks start to warm, which means I’ve already started blushing, so I look away just in time to catch the show as Seth bangs his fist against the “Tucson Citizen” ad on the side of the sun shelter down the street. My shoulders flinch as the sound shoots through the air. Will’s hand touches my arm again and I turn to see him holding out an unopened travel package of Kleenex at me. I stare at him.
“Where’d that come from?”
“I was a boy scout.” He shrugs. “I’m always prepared.”
“Thanks. But I’m okay. Really.”
He nods, tucks the Kleenex back into his breast pocket. We’re silent for a beat. I switch my focus to the heavy cathedral doors and decide not to go back in; the wedding’s almost over, anyway. And it’s lovely outside, the October sun bright but not blistering. If I wasn’t coming off one of the most humiliating experiences of my life, standing here with Will might even be kinda nice.
On that thought, I glance back at Will. Our eyes meet, and he seems about to say something when the church doors open. The guests fly out, parting like the Red Sea to allow Ella and Greg passage to their limo, a rain of birdseed bouncing off their wedding finery. Will and I watch from the edge of the revelry. Ella pauses and looks around before getting in the limo, stopping when her eyes fall on me. She gives a small wave, and I can see the concern in her face. I blow her a kiss to show her all is well. She catches it in the air, her face once again beaming with happiness, and climbs in the limo.
A fresh wave of confusion, anger and embarrassment washes over me, and I have a sudden and overwhelming need to escape. I lower my head and duck behind the church, making my way to the parking lot, cursing as the heels of my sage pumps flip under me, making me stumble like a drunk. I’m not supposed to be doing that until the reception, I joke to myself, but it doesn’t relieve any of the bad I’m feeling.
“Carly?” I hear a voice call from behind me. I stop next to a Palo Verde tree and shade my eyes for a moment to see Will heading toward me. I’m grateful for his help and all, but I’m in no mood to play hunky-dory for a stranger.
“I’m fine,” I say. “Really, thanks, but—”
He catches up and ducks his head down a bit to level our eyelines, his concerned expression only intensifying my humiliation.
“I just want to make sure you get to your car okay,” he says, pulling back. “Looks like your shoes are staging a coup.”
I stop walking and turn to face him. “It’s not the shoes. It’s me. I stumble barefoot. It’s just…” I huff, the air from my mouth shooting hair up from my forehead. “It’s me.”
His eyes narrow a bit in concern. “Are sure you’re okay?”
“Why do people ask if you’re okay? I mean, if they have to ask, you’re obviously not okay, right?” I stare at him. “Right?”
He squints in the sun. “There’s no right answer to that question, is there?”
“Fine,” I say. “No. I’m not okay. My sister’s wedding has just been ruined. I’ve been thoroughly humiliated in front of two hundred and seventeen people. Two hundred and eighteen, if you include Father Lucey. And then there’s Seth…” I trail off and sigh. It’s no use trying to explain Seth and me to Will. I don’t have a solid grasp on it myself. I shake my head and feel a sudden wave of despair, and I am speaking before I can censor myself.
“I gave him his ring back. Why can’t he just get over it?”
Will takes an obvious moment forming his response. Jeez. I must really be scary right now.
“Sometimes…,” he begins, then pauses. “I don’t know. Sometimes people have a hard time getting over things they don’t understand.”
“So, what?” I say. “Now it’s my fault because he doesn’t understand?”
“No. I just… No.” He clears his throat. “Hey, want some Nyquil?”
I stare at him for a moment, then break into a sudden laugh. He really is a nice guy. And cute. And funny. And…
… and it’s then that I realize I’ve been none of those things.
“Wow,” I say. “Call Ripley. I believe I’ve just made the worst first impression, ever. Can we start over?”
His smile quirks. “I’d like that.”
I hold out my hand. “Hi. I’m Carly McKay.”
“I know.” He takes my hand in his. His touch is warm and soft and oddly comforting, which makes me oddly uncomfortable. “I’m Will Kelley.”
“Yeah. I know.”
We release hands after a moment, keeping our eyes on each other. People begin to filter into the parking lot, seeming not to notice us standing in the scanty shade of the Palo Verde.
“Well.” I gesture feebly toward my car. “I’m gonna find Five and… Are you going to the reception?”
He shakes his head. “I can’t. I’m on my way out of town. I’ve got an assignment tonight.”
“Really? What do you do?”
“I’m a photographer.” He glances at a little blue sedan driving past us, then looks back to me. “Mostly catalogs, some magazine work, that kind of thing.”
“A photographer,” I say. “Nice job.”
“It’s not as glamorous as it sounds,” he says, then gestures toward me. “Hey, Ella said that you’re a producer on Tucson Today. That’s pretty exciting, right?”
“Associate producer.” I smile. “It’s not as glamorous as it sounds.”
“It’s a good show. I try to watch it when I can.”
“Thanks. We’re pretty happy with it.” I pause, not sure where to take the conversation next as I marvel again at how very blue his eyes are. “So, you’re not an artist anymore?”
“Hmm?”
“Ella told me you were an artist.”
“Oh.” He smiles. “Yeah, I paint a bit. But the photography pays the bills.”
I smile, and feel a sudden surge of affection for Will Kelley. “So, what’s your assignment?”
He blinks, as though he’d been thinking about something else and has to now get back on track. “Oh. Yeah. I’m heading out to Denver to—”
“Will!” Five calls, rushing toward us. Will laughs and catches her in a hug, lifting her off the ground.
“Fiver!” he says, putting her down and giving her hair a playful ruffle. “How you doing, kid?”
Five steps back from him and smoothes her hair, then gives him her best come-hither. “Not a kid anymore.”
Will laughs and raises his eyebrows at me. “I stand corrected.”
“You’ll dance with me at the reception, right?” Five asks, tucking her arm in his.
“Sorry, Fiver,” he says, patting her tiny hand in the crook of his elbow and giving her a brotherly peck on the top of her head. “I’ve got a flight to catch. Rain check?”
Five gives a small pout. “I’m gonna hold you to that.”
“I’d expect nothing less.” He winks at Five, then gives me a small nod. “It was nice meeting you, Carly. Pass my congratulations on to Ella?”
I nod. Will smiles, then walks away. As soon as he’s out of earshot, Five sighs and leans against me.
“Oh, I love that man,” she breathes.
“He’s nice.”
“Did you see his eyes?” she asks, still entranced.
“Yeah,” I say. Suddenly, Five returns to the moment and grabs both of my arms, her eyes wide with excitement.
“Oh. My. God. Carly! I can’t believe what happened with Seth! I had no idea it was gonna be him, or I so totally would have told you. Are you okay?”
I give her a bright smile and put my arm around her shoulders, guiding her toward my car.
“Now that my designated driver is here, I’m doing much better.” I toss my keys to her and she catches them without missing a beat. “Get me to the reception, kiddo. I need a drink.”
Two
“It’s not that I don’t believe in the possibility of psychic ability. Anything’s possible.” I sip my Circle K soda and lean back in the van, which Christopher and I had long ago nicknamed The Blueberry for its overwhelming blueness, inside and out.
“You believe in psychics?” Christopher says, shooting a sideways smile at me. “You, who thinks the Easter Bunny is a sinister creation of the jelly bean conglomerate?”
I shoot a smile back at him and slide my sunglasses on. “I never said sinister. But, yes, I believe there are things in this world that I cannot explain. My sister has precognitive dreams, and I believe her.” I stare out the window and think, for the thousandth time in the past week, of Seth at the wedding. “More now than I used to.”
The Fortune Quilt Page 2
