Dark Secrets Box Set

by Angela M Hudson

  “Might say I inherited that from you.”

  The car pulled up to the curb, and we both exhaled slowly. “But you do want to marry him, don’t you?”

  My heart raced with a mix of excitement and nerves as I watched everyone walking into the church. “I accepted his proposal, didn’t I?”

  “That doesn’t mean you’re ready to be his wife.”

  “Then what does it mean?”

  He looked out the window, resting his elbow on the door. “It’s not too late to back out, Ara.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  He turned, taking my hand to say something of obviously vital importance, but the door swung open behind him.

  “Ready then, sir?” the driver asked.

  “Uh, we…”

  “Dad?” I squeezed his hand until he looked at me. “I’m fine. Really.”

  “Just cold feet, then?” he asked, brows high. “Are you certain?”

  “Yeah.” I nodded, trying to convince myself. “Just cold feet.”

  “Okay.” His concern dropped. “Come on, then. Let’s go.”

  The driver closed the door behind Dad and came around to my side, and as if it waited for the right moment, a roll of thunder roared across the sky as the door opened and a chilling breeze wrapped my skin. Emily and Alana hopped out of the car in front of us, and everyone in the churchyard looked up to the sky.

  “Gonna be a wet one today,” the driver said, offering his hand.

  I stepped out of the car, ignoring the hundred photos being taken by the sprouting mob, and drew a long breath of the fresh, sugary scent of brewing rain. It was hiding up there within the clouds, just waiting to find the small sliver of happiness I owned and pour on it.

  “Ara?” Dad fixed his concerned eyes squarely on mine. “What is it, what’s the matter?”

  “I’m not sure, Dad.” Nothing felt right. Nothing looked right. Everything under the graying sky looked richer in color, with more vibrant, deeper hues; the greens were darker, the white church brighter, and the rich burgundy of spiky plants lining the cobblestone path looked blood-coated, like the world was making a statement. Like something bad was about to happen.

  “Don’t worry, honey. Rain’s good luck on your wedding day,” he said cheerfully.

  “Will ya look at that,” the driver said. “A ray of sunshine.”

  My eyes followed his pointed finger to a golden beam breaking through the clouds, but as we followed the light to its end, where it illuminated the ‘Exit’ sign in the parking lot, both men cleared their throats.

  “Funny,” the driver said to the Heavens.

  “Ignore that,” Dad said dully, and then broke into a series of pats and frowns, searching his pockets frantically.

  “What’s wrong? You didn’t lose my engagement ring, did you?”

  “No. I think I forgot the flower.”

  “It’s okay.” I thumbed the buttonhole of his jacket, where he should’ve had a yellow rosebud. “No one will notice.”

  “Here you go, sir.” The driver stepped up to the rescue, placing the rose from his own jacket into Dad’s.

  “Oh, thank you, Byron,” Dad beamed. “You’re a real life saver.”

  As Dad turned to face me again, my mouth dropped in disgust, that single, tiny red rose draining all the color from my world.

  “Come on, let’s move up onto the grass for some pictures.” He gently grabbed my arm and walked me away from the car just as the bell atop the old church tolled once, drowning out my protest over the red rose.

  “Sorry,” two young boys shouted down from the small rectangle window.

  “Don’t they know that’s bad luck?” a woman scoffed as she headed up the path to the church, her heels clicking on the soft stones.

  I looked at Dad. “Is that true?”

  “Uh—”

  “Well, I’ll just move this car and park it ’round the side,” Byron cut in, and as he opened his door, the ring of a familiar tune on the radio brought my shoulders up around my ears. Unintended—the song David dedicated to me by the lake, so, so long ago—lilted out like another sign. My smile dissolved.

  “Dad, I think… I think maybe it’s too soon.” I stared ahead, not really looking at anything.

  “Too soon for what?”

  “Hey-you-two,” Emily beamed, but stopped dead. “Ara, what is it? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “Cold feet.” Dad jerked his head in my direction.

  I took controlled breaths, my eyes filling with liquid heat. What was I doing? I couldn’t marry him. I loved him, yes, but if I loved him enough, then why had I been searching for signs all day to make me stop—to change my mind?

  Fact was, I didn’t need a sign. I already knew the truth in my heart.

  The red rose, the locket, the way I said goodbye to David just moments ago: all of those stupid mistakes were haunting me now. I let him go. He was there. He was right there, and I let him go.

  “Let me talk to her.” Emily grabbed my hand.

  Dad signaled to Vicki and whispered, “Stall.”

  The wedding dress weighed me down as Em dragged me across the street. We stopped on the lawn outside the nursing home, right in earshot of admiring grannies.

  “Ara, what is it?” She leaned closer.

  “David.”

  “What about him?”

  “I love him.”

  “I know, but—”

  “I can’t promise my heart to another man. Not when it still belongs to someone else.”

  “You already promised it to Mike.”

  “I know. But that’s not fair.”

  “Fair? Fair for whom?”

  “For Mike, Em. I love him, but I’ll never be his true love. If I marry him, he loses all hope of ever having a love like I had with David.”

  “Ara, he loves you that way.”

  “But it’s not reciprocated. Not like it should be.”

  “Yes, it is. You said you love him.”

  “I do. I really do. But it’s a different kind of love.”

  “What kind?”

  “A... he’s everything to me. And I don’t want to lose him, ever. And—”

  “And that’s a perfect base for a marriage, Ara.” She pulled me by the arm. “Now, come on.”

  “No.” I yanked my arm back. “I can’t do it.”

  “Then why did you even say you’d marry him? Why’d you get this big dress on, fuss over your hair and makeup, and drive all the way down here?”

  “I was scared of losing him, Em. I thought it was what my heart always wanted, but that was before I knew David—before I knew any different. But now…”

  Emily took a deep breath and looked over her shoulder. “Ara. Mike’s waiting for you. He’s in there right now waiting for you to marry him, because he loves you like you love David. That’s enough for him. He knows how you feel.”

  “I know, Em. But I feel like I’m stealing his chance, you know, stopping him from finding love like that.”

  “He found it, Ara.” Emily laughed. “Trust me, he feels that way about you.”

  I shook my head.

  “Ara, you’ll break his heart. If you do this now, it’ll kill him. You can’t leave him at the altar.”

  “I know, Em. But I can’t marry him, either.”

  “Then you should at least tell him. I’ll go get him.” She turned away.

  “Wait!” I grabbed her arm. “Just wait.”

  She stepped back beside me, her smug grin brighter than the sun.

  “Does he really? I mean, is he happy to have only half a heart for the rest of his life?”

  Emily moistened her lips. “Ara, you have no idea how much that boy loves you. And he knows how you feel about David. He told you he’s okay with it—”

  “Only because he thinks it’ll fade with time, but—”

  “And it will. Trust me. You’d be a fool not to marry him.”

  She was right. I knew that much, and I knew he’d waited nearly his whole lif
e for this day. I was worried about ruining his life by taking away his chance to find love, but if I turned and ran away now, it’d ruin him anyway.

  I looked over at the churchyard, seeing Mike’s mom and Vicki talking, watching me without making it obvious. It was good to see Lynette again. She’d always loved me like a second mom or an aunt would, but she loved her only son more than words could describe, and it would break her heart, too, if I hurt him that way. And I wasn’t sure she’d ever forgive me.

  Swallowing hard, I smoothed my fingers over the delicate silver-and-yellow cherry blossoms on my wedding dress, letting the gristly feel of the embroidery ground me for a moment. “Okay. I’m all right. I’ll be fine.”

  “Just remember, Ara, you’re not walking down the aisle in front of all those people; you’re walking to Mike. Just focus on that.”

  “Thanks.” We started across the road again. “That makes me feel so much better, Em.”

  “Great,” she beamed, not hearing the sarcasm in my tone.

  “All ready then?” Dad asked, offering his arm as we stepped up on the grass in front of him.

  “Yep,” I lied.

  We waited under the eaves of the church roof, shaded from the white glow of sun on gray clouds, while Em and Alana straightened my dress, tidied my veil, and I listened to the sound of people settling into the wooden pews. When the doors opened and music filled the air, the girls stopped fussing and filed up the steps, leaving Dad and me at the base where no one could see us.

  Quiet whispers of admiration hummed over the music, but no one laughed, which meant Alana obviously managed to walk okay in those shoes. Then, the volume of the song increased. I took a deep breath.

  “That’s our cue.” Dad patted my hand.

  “Dad—”

  “Yeah?”

  “I…” My eyes flicked across his, seeing the icy blue concern there. “N—nothing. I’m fine.”

  “Come on then, we better get you married before you take off down the road.”

  With each step toward the double doors, my knees wobbled. Dad held me close, balancing every tip or sway with his firm grip. I glanced behind me, just once—just to see if maybe David was out there—watching. But he wasn’t there. No one was there.

  As we reached the top, the whole room came to a standstill, wide eyes taking in my pretty dress. A white blur seemed to form around the edges of each face then, growing, becoming brighter until it drowned out the music, turning the rows of seats to darkness with each step I took.

  I was alone.

  The only other person in the world was Mike. My Mike—waiting for me at the end—a fist curled in front of his lips, his smiling eyes a mix of amazement and pride. He glanced at the front row for a second and nodded, breaking the connection I held onto through his gaze and slowing everything down. The aisle felt as though it’d been paved with a thousand lifetimes of silence and space, giving me too much room to breathe—to think. I needed to get to Mike and hold his hand before my ‘cold feet’ became hypothermic.

  “Baby,” Mike whispered, his voice echoing in my darkness. He reached out and shook Dad’s hand, his movements so slow, deliberate, calm; his hair shining like a white halo with the sunlight backing him. Everything was all right. Everything would be fine.

  But as I took the final step and Dad handed me over to Mike, the piano slowed, and the notes flattened out around me, making the room spin in slow motion with them. I felt the warmth of Mike’s hand as his solid, strong fingers sealed around mine, drawing me back to earth, but it all just felt so wrong.

  A bubble of panic burst in my chest. The eyes of everyone in the church burned through me as the music stopped, and I stood at the base of the stairs, staring at Mike’s hand.

  Forever.

  David was gone. There was no hope for us anymore.

  But I didn’t believe that. Not deep inside my soul.

  I needed that hope. Even though he’d never come back, I needed to know I’d be free to go if he did.

  “Ara?”

  When I looked up, meeting the concerned gaze of my best friend, he extended his other hand as if to grab me.

  “Ara, are you okay?”

  “I—” I turned around and looked at everyone, feeling small and on display. “I’m sorry, Mike.”

  All the smiles fizzled away then, but it didn’t set in completely until I pulled my hand back, hitched up the front of my dress, and ran.

  “Ara?” Mike called.

  The short aisle narrowed itself into a long corridor, hands rising to mouths in waves as I passed, some reaching, trying to stop me. I flicked them off and kept going, determined to get out.

  “Ara, wait.” Vicki caught my arm, but I ducked out of her grasp and pushed hard on the heavy doors, not looking back, desperate to reach freedom before Mike started running too.

  Bright sun blinded me, and rain kissed my cheeks with dots of cold. I covered my head with the bouquet and hurried on, but as my feet scuffled apart in a skid, the roses fell to the wet steps, the doors slamming shut behind me with a loud echo.

  I only dared to look back for a split second before starting off again, leaving the bouquet where it fell. When I reached the path where the car had been earlier, I felt it: the regret hit me like a knife in the chest, but I couldn’t go back.

  “Please, please tell me what to do,” I cried out to someone, anyone. “Please?”

  And as if my prayer was answered, lightning flashed and revealed the bridal car across the yard, like a beacon of salvation.

  “Thank you,” I whispered, and charged forth, my white shoes turning brown in the puddles.

  Behind me, the church doors burst open and Mike’s voice broke through the air. I kept going, but like one of those dreams where you’re flying and can’t get off the ground, I merely trudged along, dragging the sandbag weight of my muddy dress behind me.

  “Ara?” he called again in a voice that pleaded for me to explain why.

  I looked over my shoulder to where he stood at the base of the steps, and it passed over me then: a breath, a beat of my heart that closed the gray day around me, showing each year to come like a pathway of chess pieces linking us together.

  It would be okay.

  He would love me, and my half heart would be enough for him.

  We’d be happy.

  But the thunder rumbled again, breaking apart that single moment of hope, which might have changed everything. I turned away and, with ragged sobs, pushed on.

  “I’m so sorry, Mike,” I whispered, knowing I couldn’t stop to explain it, because I didn’t really understand it myself. If I tried right now, he’d say something smart and sweet, and he’d make me change my mind. I loved him so much. I’d marry him, and then I’d regret it.

  “Ara, wait!”

  I reached the car before I expected to and pulled the door open, barely able to get my words out. “Go,” I said softly. “Please go.”

  Byron tilted his rear-view mirror to look at me.

  “I said go!” I slapped the headrest, slamming the door shut on my dress, folding it in wet, silky layers around my ribs and almost up to my shoulders.

  The engine tuned over, and I sat back, feeling a strange kind of relief as the tires snaked slightly over the muddy ground, taking us away faster than Mike could run. And even though I knew it would eat at me later, I couldn’t fight the urge to turn and look back.

  The pouring rain came down, distorting everything beyond the glass, but the blurred outline of the man standing alone could only have been one person. He bent down to pick up the bouquet and stood again, staring at it. Each and every white rose in that bunch was for him, because David was the red. One left out, the other left behind. And as Mike watched me drive away, I knew what would be behind those eyes. I’d seen him hurt so many times, but of all those, this would be the worst.

  “I’m so sorry, Mike,” I whispered again with my hand against the glass.

  * * *

  The driver looked at me from time t
o time in his rear-view mirror. I knew what he was thinking: I’d lost it. Not just because I ran away from my own wedding—Oh my God, I ran away from my wedding—but also because I asked him to drop me in the middle of nowhere, in my wedding dress, in the pouring rain.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to wait here for you, miss?” he asked for the twelfth time as he pulled over on the gravelly roadside, the sky shrouded by overhanging trees.

  “No, thank you. I’m fine.” I shut the door behind me and lifted my dress off my feet. “I come here all the time. Just… please don’t tell anyone where you dropped me. I need to be alone.”

  “Sure thing.” He nodded, turning the wheel. “You take care, now.”

  “I will.”

  He made a three-point turn on the narrow road, gravel popping under his tires, and waved as he drove away.

  In the silence, alone for the first time since before the masquerade, I suddenly didn’t feel so clever. It wasn’t like David would be here. I just told him to move on; gave him back the locket.

  I hated myself then. I should’ve begged him to stay. He never would have stayed, but I should’ve begged anyway.

  With a heavy sigh and a small, hysterical laugh, I started walking into the tree line. I knew the path well—so well I could navigate it in pitch black, if necessary—and with the sun dropping behind the clouds quite quickly, that was becoming a real possibility. It seemed to take longer than usual before the mossy smell of the lake filled my lungs and the trail opened out to the clearing. I’d never seen the lake in the spring. It was all so different. Only a few of the trees were in full foliage, but everything was so lush and green, and clean. There were no brown-and-yellow leaves littering the floor, and the reek of clay and rot was gone, replaced by a crisp, syrupy smell.

  I stopped by a tree, staring longingly at the lake, hesitant to enter what seemed like consecrated grounds.

  This was David’s place. Never mine. It only became a part of me through loving him. And I never thought I’d see it again. Never wanted to see it again. But for some reason, this seemed like the only place left in the world where I was still welcome.

  The sun shone down through the clouds then and made my dress glow with the soft orange hue of twilight. It no longer resembled a wedding dress, now carrying the brown bleeding stains of a life-changing decision—one that would see my best friend hate me, maybe for forever. I made a mistake saying I’d marry him, yes, and I ruined his heart, but at least I realized before I ruined his life.