by Shirley Jump
“Uh, okay. Sure.” He gestured toward the two tuxedoed groomsmen, who left the room with a look of “uh-oh” on their faces.
“I have something to tell you.” She moved to plop into a chair, missed, grabbed at the wooden armrests and felt around under the massive skirt for the cushion. On the second try, she managed a seat.
“Is something wrong, dear?”
Father Pete's dish of Hershey's Kisses sat on the table to her right. Bless the man. She'd finished off the treats from Gift Baskets in the limo, leaving a little trail of chocolate shavings on the leather seat.
Surely one chocolate kiss wouldn't hurt. It would ... coat her tongue. Make the truth come out easier. She unwrapped a kiss and popped it into her mouth.
“You've been eating a lot of chocolate lately.”
“Yeah?” she said around a mouthful of Hershey.
“You know, chocolate is filled with nothing but empty calories.”
“It's food for my endorphins.” Candace popped another into her mouth.
“Honey, you're aware we're supposed to get married in five minutes, right?” He gave her an appraising glance, then a soft smile. “The dress looks very nice on you. Better than it did in the store.”
“Thanks.” Candace sighed and dropped the unwrapped kiss back into the bowl. “I'm here because I need to tell you something.”
He nodded, his lips thin and tight. “I already know.”
“You do?”
“I could see it in your face. You didn't think you could hide it, did you?”
“Well, it's not like I'm wearing a sign or anything,” Candace said. “That went out about the same time they stopped hanging dancing women for being witches.”
“Well, I can't say I'm proud of what you've done, but I know you can make it right.” He patted her fluffy knee. “Mother and I were talking about it and we thought after the honeymoon would be the best time for you to start working on changing.”
“You told your mother?” No wonder she'd been giving her the evil eye at the shower.
“I had to. She guessed before I did.”
Maybe Bernadine was psychic. Or maybe she hadn't been visiting Aunt Miriam. Maybe she'd been following Candace's every move. Either way, Barry knew. She wished again she could undo what had happened. Guilt hovered over her, heavy and thick.
She dropped her head into her hands. “I'm really sorry, Barry. I never meant to hurt you.”
“You didn't hurt me. You only hurt yourself, dear.”
“You know... and you still want to marry me?”
He tipped her chin up and smiled into her eyes. “Of course I do, honey.” His grin widened, full of support and understanding. “You've gained a few pounds from all that chocolate you've been eating, but if you're willing to work on the problem, I'm willing to overlook it until after we get back from our honeymoon in Phoenix.”
She blinked. “You... you think I came in here to confess I'd put on a little weight?”
“Of course. What else could you have done? You're as perfect as a pin.”
She shook her head. Oh, this was going all wrong. “Barry. There's more I haven’t told you. I—”
Father Pete stuck his head in the door. “Candace! Here's where you are. Everyone's looking for you. It's time to get marching down the aisle. The organist has already started. Barry, get into place.” Father Pete gave them an excited thumbs up. “Next time you see each other, it will be as husband and wife.”
Barry scrambled to his feet and gave Candace a quick kiss on the forehead. “See you soon, darling.”
“No, Barry! I have to tell you something. Don't—”
But he was already gone.
Candace took the bowl of kisses with her back to the bride's room. She doubted she'd burn in hell for stealing Father Pete's chocolates.
This was, after all, an emergency.
“This came for you,” Della said, pointing to a big white box that lay on the crushed red velvet love seat in the bride's room. “Some teenage girl dropped it off. She was wearing combat boots. I do hope she's not part of the wedding party. My flowers don't go with camo.”
“Teenage girl?” Candace started to undo the pale pink bow that held the box shut. “I don't know anyone who's a—”
She stopped talking when she saw the handwriting on the cream-colored envelope. Only one person called her “Candy.” Her hands shaking, she opened the envelope and unfolded the single piece of linen stationery. “In this box is the wedding dress of your dreams. But there's a catch. You can only wear it to marry me. I love you. Michael.”
“Oh honey, you look so pretty in your dress,” Della said. “Like an angel tree topper. I think these flowers are going to—” Her mother stopped when Candace didn't respond. “What is it?”
Tears sprang anew in Candace's eyes. “A marriage proposal.”
“Oh, that Barry. How silly. You're already getting married today.”
She shook her head. “It's not from Barry.”
The air in the room seemed to weigh more than all the water in Boston Harbor. After a long moment, her mother let out a breath. “Oh.”
Candace folded the paper and stuffed it back into the envelope, then pushed the box from Reverie Bridal aside. Percy, a little wrist corsage dangling from his diamond-studded collar, leaped up onto the love seat and nosed at the top of the cardboard box.
“You aren't going to look inside?”
“No. What's in there is for a dream, not a reality.”
“Dreams are good, honey. A life of all reality is about as much fun as sitting through a twelve-day seminar on tax law.”
Candace shook her head and dove into Father Pete's candy stash again. Half the Kisses were now in her stomach instead of in the bowl. “You don't understand. I can't undo what I've done. It's all planned out Everyone's waiting.”
“You haven't said your vows yet. It can be undone.”
She had three more Hershey's Kisses unwrapped and in her mouth before she spoke again. “I don't live my life like that. Not anymore.”
Della took a step closer, her face soft. For a moment, she didn't look like the zillion-times married divorcee who bought fishnet body stockings and pink boas on a whim, but more like... a mom. “Not since the summer you went to your dad's?”
“How do you know about that?”
“Just because your father and I got divorced doesn't mean we never have a conversation about you.” Her mother brushed a tendril of hair off Candace's forehead. “You're about the only thing we can talk about anymore. I kind of miss the days when we used to talk, just your dad and I.”
“But... I never told anyone what happened, not even Dad.”
“I know. But your father knew you'd been hurt pretty badly, so he called me.” Della cocked her head, her hazel eyes studying Candace's face. “And after that, you became the complete opposite of me, didn't you?”
“It's not that I didn't love you or anything.” Candace sighed. “I felt like if I planned things better, made better choices, didn't go off all hari-kari again, I wouldn't end up hurt like that.”
“What'd you think, honey?” Della said. “If you controlled everything, you'd never make a mistake?”
“That was the plan.”
Her mother shook her head, then stepped forward and drew Candace into a hug. Tears welled up in Candace's eyes and a new kind of tight feeling sprung to life in her chest. “Baby, life is not about control. The more you try to keep a thumb on it, the less you really have in your grasp.”
She let out a shaky laugh. “You might be right about that, Mom.”
Della stepped back and swiped a tear off her own face. “I've made a lot of mistakes in my life. But the only one I've never regretted is having you.” She smiled. “I wish I had found a man I could love and settle down with for years and years. I didn't value the one good man I had when I had him—your dad. I should have trusted my heart more back then.” She pointed toward the box on the couch. “If you find someone who loves you that
much, who'd send you a marriage proposal on your wedding day to try and get you to change your mind, then you need to listen to your heart.” Her mother cupped her face. “Don't marry a man you don't love. And don't walk away from a man you do just because you're afraid of being hurt.”
Candace glanced at the box again. “He's crazy if he thinks—”
“He's crazy about you.” Della smiled, straightened Candace's veil. “But, if Barry's the man who makes you happy, then marry him. Don't try to control your feelings, honey. Just listen to them.”
Before Candace could listen to anything besides the nervous, rapid thuds of her heart, the music started and her father was at the door, ready to escort her to her groom.
1-1/2 cups margarine, divided
4 eggs
1 cup cocoa, divided
1-1/2 cups all-purpose flour
2 cups sugar
1/4 teaspoon salt
1-1/4 cups peanuts, chopped
3 cups mini marshmallows
35 vanilla wafers
1 tub chocolate frosting
Beat one cup of the margarine, the eggs and half of the cocoa until well mixed, all the while talking out loud and discussing your options with yourself. Add the flour, sugar, salt and nuts. Try not to think about how you'd be nuts for choosing bachelor number one or... choosing bachelor number two.
Spread the cake batter in a greased nine-by-thirteen-inch pan and bake at 350 degrees for thirty-five minutes. Plenty of time to write a pro-con list, maybe a few of them. Sprinkle the marshmallows on the hot cake when it's done baking, then pop it back in the oven for a couple of minutes until they puff up like Grandma's s'mores. Top with wafers, then frost.
If you still haven't made up your mind, serve cake with milk and keep eating until a sign as big as a billboard comes along and guides you in the right direction.
CHAPTER 25
The sounds of “Trumpet Voluntary” swelled through the air. One of the groomsmen escorted Della down the front of the church to her seat. The entire church seemed to reverberate with each note, the organist pounding out the music with a fervor unmatched by the Boston Pops.
“You ready, honey?” her father asked as they waited in the vestry for the bridal march cue. He'd arrived the night before, in time to walk his daughter down the aisle. She hadn't seen him in several months and he looked at her now, unaware of the turmoil churning in her stomach like an undercooked burrito.
“Of course.” Candace bit back the scream that tried to escape from her throat.
“Oh no, you're not.” He pulled a handkerchief from his tuxedo pocket. “You have some chocolate on your face.” He dabbed at her cheek. “There. All better. You almost walked down the aisle looking like dessert instead of like the bride.” He tucked the handkerchief away, then wrapped her arm around his own and gave her hand a pat. “Your mother looks beautiful in that blue dress. Very beautiful.”
“She said you didn't look so bad yourself.”
“Really?” He turned to glance at his daughter. “She talked about me?”
“Yeah. And she said nice things.”
“Huh.” Jacob Woodrow paused a second, peering over the crowd ahead of them. “Where's her husband?”
Ahead of them, Rebecca's daughter, dainty in her flower girl dress, began to strew rose petals along the white path. Barry's four-year-old nephew reluctantly tagged along with her, dragging a ring pillow at his heels and making his displeasure at being seen in public with a girl obvious by sticking out his tongue at the back of her head.
“Mom is currently unattached.”
“Oh. Oh.” Her father cleared his throat. “Well, maybe I'll ask her to dance later.”
“I think she'd like that.”
He thought a minute, then cast her a worried glance. “Barry does have a retirement account, doesn't he?”
“Yes, Dad, he does. And stock options. And life insurance.”
Rebecca and Maria made their march, in small sedate steps down the flower-strewn path. Too quickly, they reached the end of the aisle and stepped into place on the left side of the church.
“Disability?”
“Long- and short-term.”
Her father patted her arm again. “Then you have my blessings.”
The bridal march began and the people in the church turned and stood, an expectant wave of guests waiting for the main act. With her arm linked in her father's, there was nowhere else to go but forward.
Toward Barry.
Keeping pace with her father, she began the slow journey down the aisle, clutching the bouquet of lilies and orchids like a lifeline. Her ankles trembled, her hands started to shake.
Ten pews to go.
At the end of the aisle, Barry was watching her, a nervous grin on his face. She looked around at the other dozens of faces awaiting her arrival. Friends. Family. Acquaintances.
Five pews.
And then, at the end, Maria and Rebecca. Grandma and George. Della. Bernadine. Dressed in a rhinestone-studded purple muumuu, she was the only one in the crowd wearing a scowl as an accessory.
Father Pete, his hands on a Bible, stood in the middle of the group at the altar. Her friends were all beaming proudly, encouraging her with their smiles. Her mother nodded at her. They're waiting for you. It's time.
Three pews.
The tightening swelled in her chest. She swallowed, sure one of Trifecta's tennis balls was wedged in her throat. Her step faltered.
“Are you all right?” her father whispered in her ear.
She nodded and took another step. Five more feet and she would be standing beside Barry, pledging to love him for the rest of her life.
To become Mrs. Barry Borkenstein. Forever.
She swallowed again and wiped a bead of sweat from her brow. The chocolate in her stomach churned in disagreement.
She glanced again at the altar. Something was missing. The candles? The flowers? But no, all was in its place. Everything except—
And then, the realization came to her, clear and true. There was only one face she wanted to see, only one man who should be there at the end of the aisle, only one man she wanted to marry.
And he wasn't there.
She halted in midstep. Her father teetered forward, then jerked back. He glanced over at her, surprise in his face. Father Pete's eyes widened, the organist missed a key, and the entire crowd fell silent.
“I can't do it,” Candace said, giving her bouquet to her father. Her voice sounded twenty decibels louder than usual, as if the voluminous skirt created a megaphone effect. “I've made a terrible mistake. I'm sorry.”
Then she turned and ran like hell, abandoning her own carefully made plans.
Barry was the first one out of the door of the church. He charged down the steps, then slowed when he saw Candace sitting on the bottom step in the June sunshine. “You okay?”
“No. Yes.” She sighed. “I don't know.”
“Is it something I did? Were you overcome by the heat? I can have Father Pete turn on a fan.” He took a seat beside her on the step and ran a hand over his face. “Maybe it was all the chocolate you've been eating. You might be having a sugar reaction.”
She turned to him, taking in his big, brown eyes. So trusting. So ready to believe the best of her. And all she'd done was let him down. “No, Barry, it's nothing like that.” She sighed. “I can't marry you.”
“Can't?” He blinked. “What exactly does that mean?”
“I changed my mind.” She bit her lip and felt a heaviness descend into her chest. “I'm so sorry.”
“You decided this now? As you were walking down the aisle?”
“More or less.”
“But...”
The silence was the hardest part. She knew she should offer some kind of explanation, something concrete. But for the first time, she'd acted on a gut reaction, not on anything she'd planned or thought about ahead of time.
Barry, however, deserved a reason.
“I was walking toward you and I
felt... I felt like if I went through with it, I'd be making a huge mistake. It's not that I don't care about you. Or that I don't think you're a great guy. Or that I don't think you'd make a wonderful husband.”
“Just not for you.”
“No, not for me.” She sighed. “I should have figured this out earlier. We've dated for two years. I know you pretty well. And I thought I knew myself, what I wanted. Who I wanted.”
“What was I, an old pair of shoes you didn't want to get rid of? Is that why you stayed with me all this time?”
“No. It's not that.” She laid a hand on his arm, but he jerked it away. She'd hurt him, which was exactly what she'd been trying to avoid.
And the Screwup of the Year Award Goes to...
Candace took a breath and searched for a way to explain. “I've lived my whole life—well, a lot of my life—trying not to be like my mother.”
“I understand that.”
“I was so afraid of acting without thinking that I thought too much. Do you know what I mean?”
He gave her a blank look, blinking several times. “No, I guess I don't.”
Her smile hurt her face. “And maybe that's the problem. There's a whole other side to me I've kept tucked behind the planners and the lists and the spreadsheets. Hoping that if I did everything by the book, I'd never make a wrong turn.”
Barry draped his arms over his knees. The black tuxedo sleeves rode up on his wrists. “And today you thought marrying me was one of those wrong turns?”
“Yeah. And I'm really, really sorry.” This time, when she laid a hand on his, he didn't move away. “You deserve someone who appreciates you for who you are. Not someone who's marrying you because she's afraid to really be who she is.”
He thought for a minute, looking out over the grassy knoll across the street from the church. A bird fluttered by them, and a faint breeze whispered through the trees. Traffic came and went, humming along as if nothing monumental had occurred on the steps of Our Lady of Faith.
