Part Three
It’s Time for a Wedding
Chapter Twenty-five
There’s going to be a wedding today
With a swirl of a black cape, the stylist reveals Eden the bride. Grandma, Aunt Maggie, and Mom gasp. I touch her hair, wondering if it feels like a ribbon, because that’s how it looks. But it’s not silky, it’s sticky. Today’s hair is for photographs, not fingers.
Eden’s beautiful, but it’s not a movie makeover. She didn’t transform from ugly duckling with brown-framed glasses to stunning beauty because of a curling iron and lipstick. It’s still Eden, still wearing glasses. She’s always been beautiful.
“You all look stunning,” the stylist says. “What a gorgeous family!”
“I happen to agree,” Grandma says with a big smile.
My hair is tucked into a French twist. Mom’s hair is in a bun. Grandma and Aunt Maggie’s short hair is curled and sprayed into place. I’m wearing makeup, too, even lipstick. Mom and Grandma told the stylist lipstick is okay as long as it’s not flaming red. With this makeup and hair, I look like I’m fifteen, maybe even sixteen.
I wonder what Nick would think.
After the salon, Eden and I go home while Grandma, Mom, and Aunt Maggie head to the church to inspect the preparations. The plan is for Eden and me to change at the church so we don’t scrunch our dresses in the car. Then there’s the ceremony, then we take pictures, then we have the dinner and the dance. We’re supposed to relax until they come back from the church and pick us up, but my nerves are on fire. I can’t imagine how Eden’s feeling. She keeps doing her breathing thing, saying, “We have to finish the puzzle. We have to.”
“It’s not a big deal.”
“It is a big deal to me. I’m doing a transference. That’s what they call it in my support group. I’m taking real anxiety about the wedding and transferring it to something trivial. It’s not the best coping skill, but at this point, who cares?”
Since this is my last day on junior-bridesmaid duty, I say, “Okay. Let’s do this thing.” I did a good job with the beige center, but there’s still an opening the size of a coaster. Now it’s a matter of detecting the tiniest differences in shape. This is where Eden shines. She quickly narrows the space to a few pieces.
I hear the front door open and Grandma’s voice. I look at the clock and say, “It’s time to go, and you know what Grandma’s like.”
Eden frowns. “I think we’re short one piece.”
“Are you sure?”
Eden connects the last few pieces and sure enough, there’s one piece missing.
“Girls!” Grandma calls. “Let’s go!”
“What’d I tell you? She’s a walking clock.”
Eden says, “She’s not going to leave without me today.”
“Looks who’s becoming a troublemaker!”
She smiles and says, “Speaking of making trouble, I have a plan. We need to talk.”
“What on earth are you girls doing?” Aunt Maggie stands in the doorway with her hands on her hips.
“Sorry, Mom. We have to find the last piece. It’s got to be here,” Eden says, dropping to her knees in search of that last piece.
“We’ll find it later. Let’s go.”
“I can’t. I have to finish the puzzle. I can’t leave with one piece missing.”
She lays flat on her stomach, creeps up to the bed, and presses her face against the mattress so she can stretch her arm all the way under the bed. Her anxiety must really be getting out of control. The pearl-covered comb falls out of Eden’s hair. This transference thing really isn’t such a great idea. She’s going to ruin her hair and makeup.
Aunt Maggie huffs and puffs. “Eden Mary Collins! Get off the floor!”
Eden grunts a few times, then stands with her arm in the air and a huge smile on her face. “Found it!”
I pick up the comb so I can reattach it, but the comb is broken. Eden opens her palm to reveal the last tiny piece. “You should do the honors.”
I shake my head. “No, you should. You’re the bride.”
“You’ve been the best junior bridesmaid ever. You do it.”
“This is ridiculous! We need to leave now.” Aunt Maggie sounds like Grandma. “It’s a puzzle, for goodness sake.”
“Mary, let’s explain to Mom why this is important.” Eden looks at me like we planned a speech together, but I’m not sure about my part. I say, “This puzzle was really hard.”
Eden sighs. “Mom, we opened this box in June and dumped 5,000 puzzle pieces on this table. Their shapes and sizes are nearly identical. There are only a few distinct colors. We spent hours shuffling and sorting and studying the picture on the box. We had to perfectly match 5,000 individual pieces.” Eden holds the final piece in the air. “This is the last piece.”
Aunt Maggie says, “Fine. Please put the last piece in the puzzle.”
As Eden hands me the last piece of the puzzle, I add a completely unhelpful thought. “Eden and I have been doing puzzles ever since I can remember, Aunt Maggie. This could be the last one we ever do together.”
Eden and Aunt Maggie burst into tears at the same moment. Aunt Maggie wails, “My baby girl!” She grabs both of us into a three-way hug. “I’m so proud of you, honey. I’m proud of both of you. I’m the luckiest mom and aunt in the world.” Eden and Aunt Maggie explode into full-on sobs, the kind of crying with weird noises and snot.
We pull apart when Grandma steps into the room. Immediately I see the streaks of mascara and makeup on Aunt Maggie and Eden’s faces. Grandma gasps and says, “What in the world happened?”
In the mirror I see my face, too. Since our faces were pressed together, I’ve got black streaks on cheeks, too. “Oh, no!”
“I’ll call the salon,” Grandma says. “They can—”
“There’s no time.” Aunt Maggie takes tissues from the desk and wipes up Eden’s face.
“Do I look okay?” Eden asks.
Aunt Maggie kisses her forehead. “Beautiful.”
“I can’t do this if I look terrible. Do I look terrible? Oh God, I look terrible, don’t I?”
“Eden, listen.” Grandma’s voice is firm. “In all honesty that makeup covered up your beauty. Your crying saved the day.”
In my family, we often say things we don’t mean, but this time Grandma means every word. I can tell. Eden blows her nose and studies herself in the mirror. Her eyes are red from crying, and her face is red from the tissue scrubbing. Grandma smooths the side of Eden’s head where the comb had been.
“Thanks, Grandma,” Eden whispers. “Thanks for everything.”
This comment makes Grandma cry, and in seconds her makeup is a mess. Now Aunt Maggie has to clean up Grandma’s face, too.
“Eden,” I say, “This is our moment.” I hold up the final piece of the puzzle and snap it into place. Eden smiles and gives me a thumbs-up.
* * *
The princess dress is heavy, and the lace makes my shoulders itch. It’s hot in the church’s changing room. I’m starting to sweat, which makes the itching worse. I sniff my armpits. Thankfully, they still smell like my powder-fresh deodorant. I lift the dress to scratch my calf, and my nails pierce the fabric and create an instant hole.
“Where’d Grandma put the extra panty hose?”
“She packed a duffle bag. It’s by the door.”
There’s a partition breaking the space into two dressing areas. I step past it and look through the duffle bag until I find the panty hose. When I turn around, I see Eden leaning against the wall, still wearing her button-down shirt and yoga pants.
“Why aren’t you dressed?”
“The party can’t start without me, right?”
She’s sweating. I take tissues from a table in the corner and wipe her forehead. “Do you want a drink of water?”
“Yes, please.”
There are two bottles of water in the duffle bag, plus Band-Aids, protein bars, Tums, tweezers, lip balm, safety pins, breath mints, a sew
ing kit, aspirin, hair spray, and more. I pull out a roll of duct tape. “Check this out!”
Eden takes the water from me. “Remember at the house when I said I have a plan?”
My heart jumps. “Please tell me you’re not changing your mind.”
“I’m not changing my mind about the wedding.” She bites her lip. “But I am changing my mind about something else, and I hope and pray you’ll help me.”
This doesn’t sound good at all. “What is it?”
“I don’t want to embarrass you.”
Now it really doesn’t sound good. “Just tell me.”
There’s a knock at the door, and Grandma says, “Can I come in? I forgot to tell you something very important. Extremely important.”
“It’s not a good time,” I shout. “Can you just tell us?”
“It’s extremely important that you don’t lock your knees.” I mouth the word what? at Eden, who shrugs. Through the door, Grandma says, “Bend your knees a little. If you keep your legs completely straight, you’ll faint.”
I whisper to Eden, “What’s she talking about?”
“Thanks, Grandma!” she shouts.
I open the package of panty hose, but Eden tugs on my arm. “Mary, I need your help. I want to wear the princess dress.”
I laugh, but she doesn’t. So I say, “It’s too late. We can’t get another dress now. It’s impossible.”
Eden bites her lip. “I know. There’s no way to get another dress.” She looks at her wedding dress and then looks back at me.
“No way!” I gulp. “I can’t wear your dress. You can’t be serious. Are you? Are you really serious?” She looks at me with pleading eyes and starts chewing on her freshly painted thumbnail. “Of course you’re serious. I … I…” I’m stammering.
I can’t wear a wedding dress! It’s probably illegal for a thirteen-year-old to wear one, and if it’s not, it should be! But Patron Saints make huge sacrifices, and wearing a wedding dress isn’t like dying for Communion or being tortured. Eden looks so sincere and hopeful. I can probably handle it for her. “Okay. If that’s what you want, I will. I will wear your wedding dress.”
She pulls me into her arms and squeezes. Her hair feels sticky against my face. “You’re the best junior bridesmaid ever.”
“A Patron Saint for junior bridesmaids,” I say. “You can petition the bishop and get the process going.”
She smiles and helps me out of the dress. She disappears behind the partition, and I step into the wedding dress and wait for Eden to close the zipper. It’s a simple dress with a narrow skirt, beads on the neckline, and a short train. Bonus that it doesn’t itch.
Eden steps in front of me wearing the princess dress. On me, the dress looked—how did the lady in the changing room describe it? Over the top?—but it’s different on her. It seems right. “You’re stunning,” I say.
“So are you.”
“Grandma is going to have words for us.” I laugh. I can’t help it.
“She will, but it’ll be too late.”
There’s a knock at the door. “Everything okay?” It’s Uncle Will.
“Now or never.” I open the door.
Uncle Will blinks in surprise. His eyes sweep side to side. Then he throws his head back and laughs. “Eden Mary Collins! You pick today to let your rebellious Irish side escape?” He shakes his head. “That’s fine by me.”
Justin’s brother Joshua peeks over Uncle Will’s shoulder. “This will make for some interesting photos.”
Uncle Will winks at me and says, “You’re a champ.”
My shrug causes the strap on my left shoulder to slip down. I make a mental note to stop shrugging. The music starts, and I walk down the aisle, arm in arm with Joshua, without any expression on my face. I don’t look side to side, because if I see the reactions, I’ll panic or crack up laughing or both. So I stare over the heads of Justin and Father Owens, nearly to the ceiling. Even with the loud organ music, I hear some gasps and some coughing and a few giggles. I hear Luke squeal, “She’s too young to get married!” and Mom shushing him.
When I reach the front of the church, the music changes from soft as tiptoes to a bold march. Everyone stands as the cotton-candy bride, without makeup or the pearl-covered comb, glides toward the front of the church with her father. Justin beams. His eyes seem locked on hers, and I don’t think he’s paying attention to the dress. Eden’s face is pale. She’s either so nervous that she drained every shade of red, or she’s actually okay. Maybe even happy.
Uncle Will kisses her cheek. Then Justin, Eden, Joshua, and I face Father Owens, who clears his throat and shifts on his feet. I’ve never seen a speechless priest before. Usually they’re loaded with words, and if they absolutely can’t think of something, they recite a prayer. Father Owens coughs a couple of times. I lean toward Eden and say, “Don’t lock your knees. Tell Justin.” Eden whispers to Justin, who whispers to Joshua.
Finally Father Owen says, “Today we celebrate the marriage of Eden Mary Collins and Justin Joseph Jackson.”
I can’t look at Grandma, or even my parents, so I stare at the big pink bow on Eden’s butt. I tell myself over and over Don’t lock your knees until I hear Father Owens say, “If anyone here objects to this marriage, you should speak now or forever hold your peace.”
And nobody speaks.
Chapter Twenty-six
There’s going to be a reception tonight
Adults are hilarious. I’m hugged by probably 100 people, and not one of them asks why I’m wearing the wedding dress. They say things like, “What a unique ceremony,” and “It’s a wedding I’ll never forget!” and “My, times are changing!” Nobody says we’re crazy. Either people never say what they mean, or it’s not a big deal. Only the photographer raises an eyebrow and sighs as she shuffles us in various poses. I can’t wait to show the pictures to Jessica. She won’t believe this story without proof. I watch the videographer in the back of the room and wonder if he’ll put us on YouTube. I hope we don’t go viral. The new-kid-in-school thing is going to be hard enough without a million YouTube views.
As the guests find their tables, I inspect the ice sculpture. The faces don’t look anything like Eden and Justin. The sculpture looks more like one half of Mount Rushmore. I’ve got to keep Luke away, because the first thing he’ll do is get his tongue stuck on the ice. There’s a tug on my arm.
It’s Grandma with full-on laser eyes. I try to back up, but she doesn’t let go. She shakes her head and says, “I’m beginning to think I’m the only normal person in this family.”
“It’s like you said the other night. Eden needs to be assertive, and I guess she’s trying. That’s good, right?”
“Mary Margaret Miller! Why in the world would you say this is good?”
“Because that’s the dress she really wanted? So she made a last-minute decision? And she looks pretty?” I’m answering in questions instead of saying what I really mean. I try again. “She does look pretty. And she’s happy, so I’m happy, and you should be happy, too.”
Grandma throws her hands up in exasperation as she walks away. “If she wanted that dress, all she had to do was say so.” She turns around and points at me. “Shoes.”
“What?”
“You forgot to switch shoes.” Sure enough, I’m still wearing my pastel-pink shoes, and Eden must be in her white heels.
Grandma wiggles through a crowd of people and hugs cousin Bridget.
That could’ve gone a lot worse.
Then it does get worse—Mom shows up. She stands between me and the sculpture with her arms crossed against the blue silk jacket. “What’s going on? Grandma has been hostile from the moment I walked in the house. Did you tell her about Luke’s Communion?”
I don’t want the dark circles to come back, and I don’t want to argue at the wedding, but I can’t swallow my words anymore. “That’s your question? You’re not wondering why I’m wearing a wedding dress?”
“Your tone is rude, and I don’t l
ike it.”
“I’m wearing a wedding dress!”
“That’s the least of my concerns. I need to know—”
“Mom! Your twelve-year-old daughter is wearing a wedding dress, and you’re more concerned about whether Grandma’s mad.”
She rolls her eyes. “It’s not like you actually got married.”
I want to look confident, so I cross my arms, but the straps fall off my shoulders again. I pull them back up as gracefully as possible. “It’s not fair for you to ask me to keep your secrets. I don’t want to do it anymore.”
“It’s not like a forever secret. It’s temporary, just until things calm down.”
“She knows.”
Mom’s shoulders droop. “Who told her? You? Uncle Will?” The stress of this conversation is almost as bad as wedding stress. I’m sweaty and tired and hungry. I remind myself to bend my knees. She repeats her words. “Who told her?”
“Luke told her. He did the right thing. He was brave.” I tug on the shoulder straps. “And if I’m brave enough to wear Eden’s dress in front of 400 people just so she can wear the dress of her dreams, then you can talk to Grandma about Luke’s Communion.”
Mom’s eyes blink like she’s in shock.
“It’s not as hard as you think. Trust me. I’ve had a lot of experience over the past few days.”
“Well, I guess I deserve that.” Her face softens. “I’m sorry. I’ve missed you so much. We need a new start, all of us.” She hugs me.
“I miss you, too.”
She tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “I think it’s time for us to sit down for dinner. Don’t worry about your toast. You’ll be great, honey.”
My toast? I nearly tip out of my shoes. I completely forgot about having to give a toast. With all the drama in Holmestrand and the missing Communion wafer and Eden’s plane tickets, I blocked out the most nerve-racking part of my bridesmaid duties. I grab Mom’s arm. “Don’t go! I forgot. What should I say?”
“But you were working on it that day we talked on the phone.”
A Patron Saint for Junior Bridesmaids Page 14
