“Gramps, you’re looking so well. Hi, Mr. H.” Emma greeted both her grandfather and his buddy. It appeared they were playing cards. What a change from earlier when she thought he had mere days to live.
Emma swallowed.
This was not going to be easy for her. She had to tell him somehow, that the wedding he was looking forward to—wouldn't be happening any time soon. She wished she had support now. She wished she could talk it over with someone she could trust. But who? Outside of her former roommate, college study-buddy, and neighbour, Genie, she had no one. But Genie was probably on a hot date and Emma needed to talk, and she needed to do it, like now. Never had she felt so alone.
Just then, her phone buzzed. She glanced and was shocked to see her mother’s number on the display. She hadn’t spoken to her mother in months. Her mother moved to Toronto years ago with her new boyfriend. They weren't exactly bosom buddies—though she wished things were different between them. They just didn’t see eye-to-eye on much. Her parents never got along. Her mother was the younger woman and her father was years her senior, still Emma clung more to the Wiggins side of the family. To Emma, Gramps was her closest living relative now.
Just as she reached to press the talk button, her grandfather touched her hand. “Darling, I forgot to mention. I got in touch with your mother today. She was shocked but excited about you getting married. She and her new beau will be here next week. Is Friday good for you? Figured better sooner than later. You know, like Mr. H here. The wedding was beautiful, wasn’t it?” Her grandfather spewed out the words, then he turned to his friend whom he often refers to as Mr. H.
Emma stopped cold. She could not answer the call. Not now. How on earth was she going to tell her mother that she lied, too? A sick thought struck Emma at that moment. She was afraid to part her lips to speak, but she quickly worked through that crippling fear. “Um, Gramps. Just who else did you tell about the wedding?” She tried to sound as casual as possible. Cool and level voiced, though she just wasn’t sure how convincing she was. Mr. H excused himself to walk his visitor to the door. Sometimes, Emma could not believe this was a long-term care palliative unit where the residents had months or weeks to live. They didn’t all seem to be at death’s door, at least apparently not to the naked, medically untrained eye.
“Oh, just the family, dear.” He leaned back in his wheelchair with a self-satisfied grin. It was plastered on the same face that earlier looked as if the life had been drained from it. Right now, Emma felt the life was draining from her whole being.
“The family?"
“Yes, your mother and her beau. Cousin Lucy. Mark. David. Mavis.”
Emma’s face fell. “What? Gramps!”
“What darling?” He looked concerned and stopped rocking. “I thought it would be nice, darling.”
He leaned closer to his granddaughter who sat kneeling on the floor beside his chair. “Darling, when you reach my age and at the stage where I am, there isn’t much to look forward to. I’m so glad that you and this Evan fellow are getting married. This has given me such a peace and a joy I can’t explain.” His eyes watered.
“I just don’t want everyone to gather together only when I’m gone. Isn’t it better to celebrate while we still have breath in our lungs?” he continued as he held her shoulder. “I’m sure your mother would be here for my funeral. But I won’t see her then. Hadn’t seen her and the family since I don’t know when. I wanna celebrate life. A new beginning. And, Emma, I can’t tell you how proud I am of you. I’m glad you moved on after what that other guy did to you. I’m so glad you’re getting married and bringing the family together.”
Tears trickled down his face. Emma felt sick to her stomach over her web of deceit, her face flushed. She grabbed a tissue from the Kleenex box and gently wiped his cheeks. She needed one for her own tears, too.
She was surreptitiously mourning the death of the woman she would become. Her life was so over as she knew it. She couldn’t argue with her grandfather as to his sentiments. He was so right. God, why did she lie about getting married to Evan Fletcher? Evan! Her boss! Now how on earth was she going to pull this off?
She couldn’t kill off her grandfather with a crippling shock that she’d lied about everything. She just couldn’t snatch hope out of a dying man’s heart. No way. Neither could she destroy commitment-phobic Evan, her boss, with a commitment he had no part in consenting to. How on earth was the ever-so-resourceful Emma Wiggins going to wiggle her way out of this one? It was Monday evening, she had less than eleven days to get married to Evan or risk ruining her life and that of everyone she cared about.
Emma scooted up the stairwell to her apartment—she didn’t have the patience to wait for the elevator that was forever stuck on the twelfth floor. The other elevator was on service. Probably a new tenant moving in. It was a new development building in the southern part of Mercy Springs just off Peach Street. She loved the architecture of the place and couldn’t help admiring every corner of the building every time she walked through the doors.
She opted out of taking the elevator in the twelve-story building to walk up to the fifth floor. She needed to let off stream, to blow off some of that adrenalin that had her going all day. The stairwell had windows going up so residents could see outside. Not a bad security feature, she mused. She peered out as she continued up the steps with her bag swinging off her shoulder and thoughts of Evan Fletcher swimming in her brain. She just couldn’t get him off her mind. Truth was, she dreamed of him, fantasized about him, lusted for him—day and night. She’d always had this mad crush on him and now…That crush, which materialized into a full-blown lie based on a fantasy, could very well ruin everything she’d worked so hard for. When she blurted out to her grandfather that she was seeing someone, she hadn’t counted on him asking her the name of that mysterious gentleman. Of course, the fact that Evan was always on her mind and the subject of her many inner thoughts and deep desires surfaced. His name naturally came to mind. Surreptitiously, she’d wished they could be an item—but for professional and now personal reasons, that truly couldn’t work out.
Funny, how the biggest lies we tell are to ourselves. She probably sublimated her fantasies and really believed for just that instant that she and Evan were engaged and getting married. Now, she all she had to do was come up with a plan that would work.
It was late in the evening, the moon was full against the dark sky, and the building seemed quiet until she arrived at her floor. The sound of her heels rendered a muffled trumping sound on the carpet of the hallway leading to her apartment. She could hear the television sets blaring from a few units going towards her unit. Jazz music blasted out of number 504, the door next to her own.
“Yep, Genie’s home, alright.” She was glad her best friend and former roommate was home. She could hear muted talking and giggles amidst the music. It appeared Genie may have been either on the phone or with someone. She didn’t want to intrude but took a chance and gave a light tap on the door with her keys for a greater effect.
“Just a minute,” she heard Genie yell from beyond the door.
She saw a shadow pass across the peep hole and knew Genie had looked to see who was knocking at this hour. When Emma glanced at her watch, she realized it was ten o’clock. Not too terribly late. She had stayed later past the hospital's nine o’clock visiting hours to be with her grandfather. She didn’t realize it was that late.
“Only me, hon!” She winked knowing Genie could see her through the peep hole. Emma heard the clanking of the chain being unhooked on the other side and the door swung open.
“Hey, girl. What’s up?” Genie had a drink in her hand and her cordless in the other.
“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude. Are you busy?”
“Girl, I’ve always got time for you. Don’t be silly.”
Emma really appreciated Genie’s openness and friendship. In college it was a two-way street. She’d helped Genie many nights with her tough subjects like English and Comp.
In fact, she’d written many of her essays and tutored her on the language since English was Genie's second language. Genie was eternally grateful and in turn would help Emma with other essentials like savvy shopping for the best deals. When the new development was built, they rushed to get in on the builder’s deals. Genie’s uncle bought a few units and rented them out to students. They both lucked out and rented the available units that were side-by-side. She used to think it would be a curse living that close to her best friend. What if she didn’t feel in the mood to talk or go out or just wanted some quiet time? Something she craved a lot. But it turned out to be a blessing in disguise. Genie was back in school part-time and had an incredibly busy social life with tons of friends outside of their own friendship. She was loyal and discreet.
Genie eyed Emma up quickly as she pulled the door wide open. “Just got in from work?”
“Oh, yeah!” Emma walked in and saw books scattered everywhere. There were posters and loose papers on the floor, shoes and blankets scattered everywhere. She noticed a box of pizza on the center coffee table that had been pushed to the side along with empty cans of pop. Seemed like Genie had a study party earlier, or some form of fun. Genie told the person on the phone that she’d call her back later. Genie had on a shorts and midriff t-shirt. Ever the teen-at-heart, though she was twenty-nine. She could easily pass for a teen. She had a rough life and pretty much raised herself. She once told Emma, now was her time to reclaim her youth and live for the moment. Have fun while bettering herself. She dreamed of owning her own business one day.
“Can I get you anything?”
“Oh, I’m good, thanks. Just visited Gramps and we ate at the hospital.”
Genie’s expression turned sympathetic. “Aw! How is old man Wiggins doing?”
“He’s good. You know, so much has happened today. First, as you know, the docs told me that he didn’t have much time,” Emma recounted as she sat with Genie on the sofa crowded with overstuffed teddies and large colourful pillows. “Well, now they say he has weeks to live. Maybe another two. They can’t be sure.” Emma bit down on her lip and tried to fight back tears. She fiddled with the zip of her imitation Gucci handbag.
Genie sighed and embraced her friend. For a moment they both sat hugging. Emma felt guilty for barging in and ranting about her day. “How’s your studying coming along?”
“It’s good. Not bad. Got another presentation to give for my elective. God, I hate those.” The two women giggled. “But enough about class. I wanna forget about that for tonight. I’ve been busting my brain all day trying to get this project going. I know you didn’t come to chat at this hour about my class.”
“C’mon, Gene.”
“No, really, there’s something else on your mind. I can tell, girl, you don’t fool me.”
“Well, you’re right.” At first Emma hesitated. Sometimes she found it necessary to censor herself with friends in fear of looking like a fool, but then she reminded herself she was talking with her best friend for life, or as was all the rage to say, her BFF. Her non-judgemental girlfriend on whom she could always count.
Emma sighed deeply and spilled everything to Genie. The uncut, uncensored, utterly ridiculous version. The whole shebang. She needed to vent. She needed support or she’d burst at the emotional seams.
After Emma’s spiel, Genie sat wide-eyed and mouth agape.
Emma squirmed slightly, feeling foolish. “Well, aren’t you going to say anything?”
Genie clasped her hand over her forehead, shaking her head. “Okay, so let me get this straight. You told your grandfather you were going to marry Evan Fletcher, the president of Fletcher Advertising? Your boss? The one who hates women?”
“Hey, he doesn’t hate women!” Emma interjected as she rolled her eyes and shook her head. “He just doesn’t believe in…you know…commitment.”
“Right.” Genie got up, sighed, and paced like a detective on a mission to solve a case. “So, you pretty much allowed your grandfather, who is dying, to believe that you are going to marry your boss and he made arrangements for you two to get hitched next week.” Genie’s tone was light and humorous but she was trying to be supportive to her best friend who really got herself into a pickle this time. She remembered when she was in a bind, many times and Emma bailed her out without so much as a hushed whisper.
“Emma, I should have told you this before, but during my psych class, I studied phobias really well.”
“And?”
“Well, you remember the term—gamophobia?”
“Gamo--? No way.”
“Yes, way. Gamophobia is a word from the Greek term ‘gamete’ meaning wife and ‘gamein’ which means—"
“To marry,” Emma finished for her.
“Evan Fletcher is gamophobic,” Genie continued, “That crap is for real and it ain’t funny.”
“Gamophobia,” Emma smacked her hand over her forehead and slouched back into the cushiony couch, chuckling humorlessly. “An anxiety disorder for those who fear the responsibility of marriage or even living with someone.”
“He fits the description to a tee, girl. Of all the men in Texas you had to force to marry. You had to choose Mr. Marriage-will-cause-my-head-to-explode phobia.” Genie couldn’t help but stifle a giggle and rubbed Emma’s shoulder.
“Great, I remember that project we did back in college.” Emma recounted all too well. The symptoms of panic attacks, heart palpitations, shortness of breath, dry mouth. She noticed when she bought up the whole marriage thing to sexy, capable Evan, he flinched. Seemed like every man had a weakness of some sort.
Suddenly, Emma felt sick to her stomach. She had deep feelings for Evan, and she thought she caught him undressing her with his eyes when he thought her back was completely turned on occasion, but now she was beginning to think it was her imagination. They had a huge contract to clinch tomorrow. He was probably at the office hard at work. If they sealed the deal—that would mean flying off to New York the following week to shoot the first commercial. How on earth was she going to get this wedding thing going and even bring up the idea of marriage to him—thanks to her oversized gob? Was she seriously considering this? She could not risk him getting into a serious fit over this. Going back to Gramps was also out of the question.
“Well, every problem has a solution, girl,” Genie interrupted Emma’s mental guilt trip. “Your mouth got your into this, so your mouth’s gonna get you out of it.”
The look of disbelief splashed across Emma’s flushed face as she shook her head and rolled her eyes. “And how do you propose I do that, Einstein?”
Genie gave Emma a sly grin. “Are you gonna listen to my plan, or not?”
Emma sighed. Did she really have a choice?
5
Evan paced in angst over the mock storyboard for the advertising pitch.
It was Tuesday morning—the thunder rolled hard outside as the rain poured on this April spring morning. That afternoon would be his monumental chance to win the Weddings R Us account and contract for the big launch.
He walked over to the lounge area in the two-story loft on the fourth floor of the glass building that housed Fletcher Advertising. It spanned the entire fourth floor. The design of the loft was creative yet subtle. It had the residential appeal with a corporate environment. A plush couch sat in the reception area with tall green plants, art décor on the wall. Evan enjoyed the open space concept. Offices were on one side of the loft with glass doors and windows. Blinds covered most of the area for privacy. A conference room and boardroom also existed. He had carefully selected the décor on purpose for an environment conducive to art, creativity, and relaxation. In other words, he despised the stuffy corporate offices where he used to work, and he wanted a more stress-free, cosy work environment in downtown Mercy Springs. At that moment, he felt anything but stress-free.
Last night, Evan, along with a few members of the team, including Emma who gave her input and got down to work on the mock ads to present in the pitch, spent hou
rs ploughing over the sample print and TV ad storyboards. He was pleased with the efforts but wanted to make sure he missed nothing.
This meant a lot for his business and his personal life. He would be able to propel Fletcher Advertising further in the industry and take care of his father the way he wanted to by hiring a private duty nurse for twenty-four hour supervision.
Still, he couldn’t get the thought of his adorable yet complex account coordinator, Emma, out of his mind. Boy, he wished he could figure her out. The scent of her sweet perfume was always a distraction for him. It was a sugary, baby scent that drove him wild. He dared not ask her the name of it. But he figured it was one of the popular designer perfumes.
Keep your mind focused, Evan.
Still, all this talk of weddings started to nudge him. He grabbed his espresso from the table and slurped the remainder down as he held on to the artwork from his up-and-coming artist in the other hand. The copywriter worked closely with Emma to get the slogan just right.
An Unexpected Bride Page 3
