Free to Dream

by Tracey Jerald

My hands are shaking.

  What am I supposed to do?

  Should I tell Caleb what I’m almost certain of now?

  I put my head in my hands and grip the back of my neck. After the wedding. That’s soon enough.

  33

  Cassidy

  It’s finally here, the day of the Lockwood-Dalton wedding.

  I didn’t get much rest last night, despite Caleb’s best attempts at loving me to sleep. My mind wouldn’t shut down. It felt like a teleprompter perpetually scrolling, running through the lists of things we needed to do. I was up well before my 6:30 alarm and slapping away my love’s hands as he tried to pull me back down into my bed.

  Standing in the shower, I feel grateful that Em had convinced me we should have a stylist do our hair for this wedding. We would have very limited time to do it ourselves with the schedule we were having to keep. There were other things I needed my team focused on other than worrying about fitting in stylistically with the Greenwich elite.

  Lost in my own musings, I don’t hear the shower door open. I give a little bit of a shriek when I feel Caleb’s arms slide around my wet body before I start giggling.

  “You don’t have to be up for hours!” I laugh at him.

  “Hmm. This is much better than sleeping. Besides, I want to go with you today.”

  “Seriously? You know I’m going to be in complete work mode, right? I’ll be able to spend, like, maybe twenty-minutes total with you before the ceremony starts.”

  He nips my neck. “And you know how you in work mode turns me on.”

  Oh, well, there is that.

  “Besides, I know the estate like the back of my hand. Consider me a living map.”

  And a living guard? The thought creeps into my mind as I turn in his arms. “Are you worried about Mildred?”

  “Yes.” No lies. No hesitation.

  I frame his face with both my hands and lean up to kiss him. “Okay then. I can always use a living map and an extra set of hands.”

  Relief flickers across his face before humor sets in. “So, what’s the deal? Not washing your hair?”

  “Nope. Em has someone coming in to style it later. All the Freeman women are being given the special treatment today since the grooms are so low-maintenance,” I snicker. This wedding is anything but low-maintenance.

  “Oh, well, if your hair is the only thing I can’t get wet…” He lowers his mouth to the crease between my neck and my shoulder.

  “Ohh, Caleb. Dammit, I didn’t plan on the time for this. Mmm.”

  “You woke up early and I’ll be quick.” His eyes are hot but steady. “I need you, my love. Today is going to be intense.”

  I give myself a little boost and wrap my legs around his hips. “Well, as long as your quick includes full service.”

  He laughs as he presses me up against the shower wall and lowers his mouth.

  Six hours later and I’m wishing we were back in the shower with a Brillo pad and a gallon of soap to scrape off the feelings I have from being on the grounds of the Lockwood estate. With its grand stone exterior, imposing turrets, and well-manicured lawns, the mansion should be a wedding planner’s dream.

  In reality, this place gives me the creeps.

  As mild as the day has been for November, I’ve had a perpetual chill since I walked in with my family, the high-end furniture rental delivery, and the VIP restrooms delivery service at 8:00 a.m. sharp.

  Fortunately, I’ve been able to spend a great deal of time outside behind the house in the courtyard where the ceremony and reception will actually be taking place.

  For the last two months, I’ve been a little put-off by the fact Mildred Lockwood has passive-aggressively refused to let us on-site to take measurements by already having daily events at the estate. I know it’s infuriated the grooms and Caleb to no end. Ryan’s come close to having his mother thrown off his own property on several occasions. It’s taken all of us to calm him down and to not let her be the focus of the wedding. Instead we’ve had to rely on pulling county surveys and aerial photos for our wedding plans. Now, I’m appreciative.

  There’s no way I would’ve wanted to spend a minute more than I have to here.

  I’m just grateful Caleb has no desire to spend time in the future at the old family stomping grounds either, or I might be spending more time dealing with my PTSD issues.

  I pause. Where the hell did that thought come from? Why would a house trigger my PTSD?

  I look around. It’s just a house, albeit an enormous one at over 12,000 square feet on five and a half acres of land. It has a lovely gazebo by the lake, which we’ll be incorporating for the vows. The chairs are being setup in two sections; the back section divided into three pie shape pieces with two aisles to allow both grooms to approach, then the front section has the traditional two with one center aisle.

  Phil has outdone himself with the gorgeous primroses incorporated with lush fall colors, making sure that Ryan and Jason’s vision is artfully captured. I glance over to the courtyard which easily holds ten people at the fifty-five tables, room for the orchestra and dance floor. Corinna and her culinary interns carefully move each layer of the six-tiered cake into place. The caterer and head chef walk around checking linens, silverware, glassware, and chargers, making sure that for the elite of the elite, everything is perfect.

  Around the side of the house, the VIP washrooms have been setup with the property waterlines, with attendants already being briefed on their responsibilities. In fact, as I glance around, tuxedoed staff members are already moving toward their final briefings. Glancing through the cathedral-size windows at the front of the house, I can see from my vantage point the valet has already setup, and all the delivery vans have started to move out or have been directed to the large tents at the edge of the property, offering a covered place to hide the aesthetically offending vehicles which adds an additional method of privacy.

  I look down at my watch. It’s 1:45 and the wedding starts at 3:00. I have fifteen minutes before I need to head inside to get myself ready. I pull out my lists and check off items. I’m a little shocked when I see we’re actually ahead of schedule by fifteen minutes. I’ll take it.

  My phone beeps. It’s Em.

  “You almost ready to come in? We’re early in here if you can believe it.” Her voice holds the same shock and awe I’m feeling.

  I laugh. “Don’t jinx us. I was just thinking the same thing out here. I’m making my way in right now.”

  “Wait, you mean it’s on schedule out there too?” Now she’s laughing as well.

  “Right? I just saw Corinna set the cake up, so she should be heading to the house soon too.”

  Em lets out a long, low whistle. “Damn, Cass. Final briefings?”

  I jog up the three steps of the stone patio, which wraps around the back of the house before turning around for a final sweep. “Already in progress. Vans have been moved under the tents. Valet is setup. I expect guests to arrive in”—I pause— “thirty minutes. And the chief steward and concierge staff we hired are waiting in black tie to escort everyone from the front door through the foyer, into the back.” As I walk into the house, again, an inexplicable chill hits my bones. Wrapping my arms around myself, I ask, “What room are you guys in?”

  Before Em can respond, I hear a nasally voice behind me. “Against my wishes, your associates were set up in the secondary library. I expect you should be able to find it.”

  I mutter into the phone, “No more than ten,” before hanging up and turning to face who I know will be Mildred Lockwood.

  I am not wrong.

  Mildred Lockwood is the epitome of elegance in her classically cut thousand-dollar St. John suit. This is the kind of woman who demands to be catered to and doesn’t care who she has to run over to get it. Things go her way or she gets them out of her way.

  Aesthetically speaking, she’s an exceptionally attractive woman for her age with formerly dark hair, now well-mixed with salt and pepper and light eyes.
/>   Too bad her eyes have no soul.

  Even wearing a business suit and heels, I’m several inches shorter than she is. She leans over me, trying to intimidate me with her height, her wealth, her dismissive manner.

  I remain silent, knowing this will antagonize her further and get her to show her cards faster. My heart is beating rapidly in my chest, much in the same manner it used to when I would be locked in the room with the men who hurt me as a child.

  This woman is nothing but evil.

  “I can’t believe you’d dare to show up here.” She sneers as she moves even farther into my space. Her emphasis on the you in her sentence takes me aback, and I see the chief steward looking over with some concern. The last thing we need is the mother of the groom causing a scene in the foyer thirty minutes before guests are expected to arrive.

  I’m about to quietly demand she be escorted to get ready or get out when I hear a very welcoming voice behind me.

  “Be very careful, Mildred. Ryan and I are trying to uphold appearances for your sake, not ours.” Caleb stands next to me, not touching me in this crucial moment. Knowing that I have to stand strong, I hold my ground.

  Her eyes, silent but deadly, cut from mine to her oldest son’s. She’s about to speak when Caleb cuts her off.

  “Cassidy, if you’d like, I will escort you up to the secondary library. I believe your family is waiting for you.” Caleb cuts his mother’s sputtering off with a simple raise of his hand. “You have two options. You can get dressed and shut your mouth for the next six hours, or you can get the hell out and deal with the fallout. Either way, you will behave today.” His eyes are stone cold, and he’s coiled like a cobra ready to strike.

  Her eyes drift to mine. “I’ll be quiet. For now.” With a final glare of contempt, she drifts off toward the grand staircase to the master suite. Out of the corner of my eye, the chief steward lets out a relieved breath.

  Once she’s out of sight, Caleb turns me into his arms. “Are you okay? What the hell am I saying? Of course, you’re not.”

  Still shaking, I wrap my arms around his waist and squeeze tightly. “After today, we’re not coming back here, right?”

  “Never. I swear,” Caleb vows.

  “Great, because this place gives me the creeps,” I mutter.

  Caleb puts his arm over my shoulder and tucks me into his side as we walk down the short hallway to the second library. He mutters into my ear, “You’re not the only one.”

  34

  Cassidy

  T-minus ten minutes.

  I’m the last to finish getting ready. I check out my reflection in the mirror one last time while attaching the earbud that will remain in until the last guest leaves.

  The deceptively loose chignon the stylist threw in has been pinned up using faux pearl hair pins. I have larger faux pearls in my ear to help disguise the bud, a half strand of inch-sized pearls tied by a blue satin ribbon around my throat, and a triple band elastic cuff of matching creamy pearls covering my earbud’s receiver on my right wrist.

  Overall, I went for a simple, understated elegance with my short sleeve, mock turtleneck gown. Turning sideways, you can see the opening that exposes my back from the top of my shoulders to the top of my waist. Thank you, Nieman Marcus sale event.

  As I gather up my clutch, I take eight deep breaths. I have the rest of the evening committed to memory. Yes, my small clutch is in my hand with my cell phone inside as a backup, but I’d prefer not to pull it out. I’m now Caleb’s guest, not coordinating the largest wedding in our small company’s history.

  I either need to do something or throw up from being in this house alone.

  I make my way back into the main foyer where guest after guest is being escorted through. Excellent. I catch the chief steward’s eye and he moves forward to escort me down. I can easily merge in with a group so I don’t interrupt the guests who need to be escorted.

  Trailing in with a group of four, I spot my family, already strategically placed around the amphitheater like seating. Caleb and Jason are waiting toward the audience’s right, so I want to sit on the left. I spot the back section of chairs where a Freeman isn’t already sitting.

  “Planning on making an escape?” Keene’s voice comes from my left.

  I let out a puff of air. “No, we’re trying to scatter ourselves so we can make sure if any problems arise, one of us can be in place quickly.”

  He surveys the milling people and sees that in all the external sections, at least one Freeman is sitting, with the exception of Holly, who I happen to catch making her way from Ryan’s groom’s room, down toward the gazebo for the procession.

  “Nice.” He leans down and mumbles quietly, “Is this like us making sure Charlie sits next to Mildred for the ceremony until there can be tighter control?”

  I lift my hand to my stifle my laugh. “Well played.”

  “Caleb mentioned you had your first interaction with her before.” I nod. “I’m sorry. We would have spared you that.” While his words are about Mildred Lockwood, his face tells me he’s not just apologizing about that. Masking any discomfort I may feel, I nod slowly, accepting his apology for more than just my interaction with Caleb’s mother. I don’t know why I’m giving it, I just feel like I need to.

  His face relaxes marginally.

  Keeping on topic, I shrug. “I was expecting it to be unpleasant, but…”

  “But…?” he prompts.

  I wrap my arms around my waist. I’m about to let him in a bit and share when I hear the opening music.

  “We’re about to start. Better find your seat, Keene. We’ll talk later.”

  He waits a heartbeat before moving and makes his way down a few rows to take his seat.

  A string quartet from the orchestra begins the hauntingly lovely strains of Pachelbel’s Canon in D. The audience of more than 500 stands. Ryan and Jared make their way from the open doors of the pool house and the rec room respectively, each holding a small hand carved wooden box. They meet in the center, clasp hands and walk together, straight toward the gazebo where Caleb, Jason, and Jared’s two brothers are waiting for them. You can barely make out Holly in her black, formfitting gown, snapping pictures.

  There’s something about the flash throwing me off. Rubbing my head, I make a mental note to talk discreetly with Holly about it later. The last thing we need is for the photos to be overexposed.

  Suddenly, my breathing accelerates, and my vision begins to go black around the edges.

  “I don’t understand, Aunt Millie. Why do we have to leave?”

  Aunt Millie looks down at me with a big smile, saying, “We just do, baby girl.”

  “But I was having so much fun watching the boys,” I complain.

  “I know, baby, but we have somewhere important to be. I think your Grandpa is going to try to meet us tonight. It’s a surprise for your mommy. Don’t you want to be a part of it?”

  “Grandpa! Yay! I love Grandpa!” I shriek.

  “I know you do, baby girl. So, this is the big surprise. Grandpa is coming in on a boat on the lake! Then you can bring him to Mommy at the house. She’ll be so proud of her princess.”

  Aunt Millie starts walking faster. And faster. Pretty soon we pass the gazebo, but I don’t see Grandpa in the boat. It’s a bunch of strangers.

  I remember what Mommy told me—stranger, danger!

  And I start to scream.

  I’m shaken from whatever the hell that was to now by my hearing my brother say in my earpiece, “I hope Holly got that shot of Ryan and Caleb. It’s a keeper.”

  The justice of the peace begins to wrap up the ceremony. “May the love you have demonstrated today continue to grow and be enriched each day. May you continue to lean on each other and face any new challenges with courage.

  “Ryan and Jared, we’ve heard your promise to share your lives in marriage. We recognize and respect the covenant you have just entered into here today with each of us as witnesses. Therefore, in the honesty and sincerity o
f what you have said and done here today, and by the power vested in me by the State of Connecticut, it is my honor and privilege to declare you married.

  “You may kiss your groom!” There’s quite a bit of loud applause, and even a few whistles, encouraging the two grooms.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, may I be the first to present, Mr. Jared Dalton and his husband, Mr. Ryan Lockwood!”

  As cheers go up, an orchestral version of Christina Perri’s “A Thousand Years” plays softly as the grooms walk up the aisle. My sister races along the perimeter, capturing every ounce of joy on their faces. Following them are Caleb, Jason, and Jared’s brothers.

  I give it a minute, glancing toward the stage. The chief steward has made his way up next to the justice of the peace. “Ladies and Gentlemen. If you would kindly make your way to the courtyard. Hors d’oeuvres and cocktails will be served while we wait for the Misters. The first course will be served soon after.”

  I hear the murmurs on what a beautiful ceremony it was. I only wish I remember seeing it. Blinking back tears, I know I need to get it together.

  Looking down at my watch, I see it’s exactly 3:45. We’re on schedule.

  Focus on that, Cassidy.

  You’ll figure the rest out later.

  35

  Cassidy

  It’s 7:00 p.m. The announcement of the newly married Ryan and Jared, the first dance to a beautiful arrangement of Lady Antebellum’s “I Run to You,” and the first two courses are all completed on time. My family is murmuring quietly in my ear about the toasts and cake cutting being up next. Phil, who’s sitting next to Jason at the Lockwood family table with me, gives me a brief look.

  So far, so calm.

  That was about the best we could hope for with Mildred Lockwood knocking back martinis like they’re water. By my last count, I’d seen her down eight. Caleb muttered in my ear that he thought it was more because she had a bar in the master suite. Lovely. We could only hope she would pass out and we could escape this night relatively unscathed.