Making a mental note to thank Steph for doing an outstanding job of making their wedding memorable, he looked out at the sea of family and friends. Many of them knew of his rocky past. There weren't enough words to describe how happy he was to put all of that behind him.
The string octet finished their current piece, and then began a more familiar classical tune.
There was a commotion in the chapel's vestibule, and then out popped Lola down the aisle. She smiled and twirled and to the delight of everyone assembled, tossed an assortment of rose petals that landed on just about all surfaces but the floor.
His aunt Martha looked a little miffed by the half a rosebush that'd landed on her helmet hair.
When his daughter reached him, he knelt for a hug, whispering in her ear, "Great job."
"Thanks, Dad!" Though still fidgety and all smiles, she did her best to stay put in her assigned spot.
Next down the aisle were Steph's twin and then Gabby. Upon first hearing about Stephanie's identical sister, he'd worried he wouldn't be able to tell them apart, but to him they looked nothing alike. Steph had an innate softness Lisa lacked.
Olivia finished up the procession, looking regal in her long red gown.
The wedding march began and all assembled rose to face the bride.
At his first sight of his future wife being escorted by Tag, Brady's heart swelled. Lord, she was gorgeous. Through eyes welling with emotions ranging from gratitude to the deepest of loves, he drank in her long, loose hair. Ringlets cascading her shoulders in a cloud. With her every step, the stones of her tiara and a myriad of crystals sewn into her gown reflected the candlelight.
The only thing missing was her smile.
The closer she came, the more he noted the tremble in her bouquet. The wild-eyed panic in her eyes. It was the same look she'd worn when he'd first seen her again all those months ago on the plane.
For all of her protests that she was emotionally fine, he recognized all too well the signs that she was hanging on by a very thin thread.
When she reached him, he leaned down to kiss her cheek, whispering, "Relax, sweetheart. Everything's going to be fine. I'm here with you. Nothing's ever going to hurt you again."
She nodded, but didn't meet his eyes.
"I love you," he said, his fingers beneath her chin.
Again, she shattered him with only a nod.
They were on the verge of spending the rest of their lives together. Why wouldn't she look at him? Let him in?
The pastor cleared his throat. "Who gives this woman to be wed?"
"I do," Tag said, while Olivia took Steph's trembling bouquet.
With her hands in his, Brady held them as firm as he dared, trying to convey to her, without making a scene, that everything was going to be okay.
But was it?
The further into their vows the pastor went, the more pale Steph grew. Her breaths came shallow and her eyes took on an erratic dart.
Following the pastor's directions, he said, "I, Brady, do hereby take you, Stephanie, to be my lawfully wedded wife."
She started to cry.
"To have and to hold…"
Her light tremble grew to the point that her entire body now shook.
"To love and to cherish…"
She gasped for breath.
"In sickness or in health…"
Ripping her hands from his, she clawed at the bodice of her gown.
"For as long as we both shall—"
"I'm sorry," she said with an anguished cry. "I can't do this. I—I have to get out of here. The walls are closing in." Abandoning him at the altar, she ran down the aisle.
Her tiara clattered to the floor.
Chasing her, Brady accidentally kicked the crown of silver and crystal on his way out the door.
Bursting through the chapel's double doors, he found her hunched over in the attached graveyard, shivering in the brutal cold. A wind had whipped up, swirling leaves and creaking branches.
"What's wrong with you?" he cried. "This was what you wanted. You asked to marry me."
She dropped to her knees and sobbed. "I—I know. But I'm afraid. I already l-lost Michael and you're a pilot and what if I'm not really over him and I don't know what I was thinking because I clearly can't marry you."
"Bullshit," he raged. "This has nothing to do with us. Michael flew in a war zone. I fly business travelers and tourists. There's a huge difference. Statistically, you're much safer—"
"I don't care!" she screamed. "All right, so this has nothing to do with you flying, and everything to do with my shattered heart. I won't marry you. I'll never marry you. I can't go through losing another man I love."
"You're not being rational. Where's your medication?" he asked, glancing toward the chapel, at the throng of gawking guests standing at the doors. "Did you bring it?"
"I don't want a pill, Brady." Wind whipped her hair in her face. It was a dark night, but even from the glow emanating through the chapel windows, he saw black streaking from her eyes. "I don't want you. I can't do this. Keep living a lie."
Her words sliced him to his core.
Dropping to his knees, sitting back on his haunches, he put his hand to his forehead, struggling for a logical way out. Where was the funny and warm and talented woman he'd fallen in love with? Why couldn't he bring her back?
"I love you," he said quietly, not knowing or caring if she heard him above the wind. "I love you and you're throwing me away. I told you to get help. You were too stubborn to admit anything was wrong. Well, you know what?" he asked through gritted teeth. "I'm done. I've already been decimated by one woman I loved, and I'll be damned if it ever happens again."
Rising to his feet, he ignored Stephanie's ever-increasing wails.
"Not only have you hurt me," he cruelly said, "but you've also hurt my daughter. And it'll be a cold day in hell before I speak to you again." Turning his back on her, he mounted the chapel steps, picked up his crying and confused little girl, and wound through the crowded lot to find his rented car.
Chapter Seventeen
"Dad?" Lola asked from the lanai of the private Maui beach house he'd planned to surprise Stephanie with for their honeymoon.
"Yes?" He'd stretched out in the hammock, trying to sleep, but that, just like every other escape he strove for, wouldn't seem to come. His ex-bride had made him numb.
"I know I asked why Stephanie left us before, but I still don't get it." She made her Barbie do the splits on the glass-topped table. "Steph told me she loved me. But if she loved me, why did she want to hurt me like that?"
Aching for not only himself, but his daughter, he fought stinging eyes. He'd vowed to not cry one more tear for that woman, and unlike her, he kept his promises.
Eyes closed, he surrendered himself to the balmy breeze stroking his bare arms, legs and chest. He focused on the surf's roar and the salt-flavored air. The tropical paradise would be his place to heal. When the week was up, he'd emerge a better, stronger man for having weathered Stephanie's storm.
"Dad?" With a start, he looked up to find Lola standing over him. "You didn't answer." Climbing into the hammock, she snuggled alongside him, clinging to him like she hadn't since she'd been very young.
"Baby, I wish I had an answer for you. Something that would magically make you feel better, but the truth is, I don't think even Stephanie knows why she left."
"Are the twins going to be okay? I really miss them."
"They'll be fine." He hoped. Steph had a huge sup port system, if only she'd open herself to letting them in.
"I'm mad at Stephanie, but I still love her. Think we'll see her again?"
Kissing her forehead, he said, "I don't know, baby. I don't know."
* * *
IT'D BEEN A WEEK SINCE the wedding.
A week during which Stephanie had returned all of the lovely gifts, each accompanied by a handwritten apology note.
Since running out on her wedding, she hadn't experienced a shred of the panic that'd
held her in its grip. Point of fact, aside from embarrassment and loneliness and the pain of hurting so many people she loved, physically she'd never felt better.
Following her doctor's advice, she'd called the therapist Naomi had recommended. After two emergency sessions, she was now scheduled to visit every Wednesday afternoon.
With the twins down for a nap, she found herself at loose ends. She'd already tidied, done laundry and dusted her few knickknacks. Maybe she'd been hasty in hiring two responsible teens to run the shop on Saturdays?
No. Her therapist said it was good for her to spend time with her girls, reminding herself of what was positive in her life, rather than focusing on the bad.
In her bedroom, she changed the sheets on her bed. She'd bought the cheery floral print in anticipation of Brady sharing them. He'd ribbed her about the master bedroom being too girly, but all-in-all, he'd been a good sport.
She was changing pillowcases when she fumbled and dropped one to the floor. Kneeling next to the bed, a corner of sky-blue caught her eye. It was the special Christmas gift she'd found for Brady. The one she'd bid way too much for in an online auction, but hadn't been able to resist because she'd known how much Brady would love it.
Painstakingly unwrapping the box, she recalled how intense the auction process had been. How she'd wanted to wait to give it to him when they'd found a private moment alone. But then he'd kissed her and things had moved on from there. She was asking him to marry her and he'd agreed and their lives had been a whirlwind from there.
Lifting the box's lid, she fished through layers of tissue to pull out the leather-bound, author-signed copy of 20 Hrs., 40 Min.: Our Flight in the Friendship, written by Brady's idol, Amelia Earhart.
Clutching the rare treasure to her chest, thinking of what a gem the gift's recipient had been, she cried.
* * *
"IT'S INTERESTING TO ME," Stephanie's therapist said during her next appointment, "that the first time you've cried since the wedding, was over a present Brady never received. Do you see the correlation? How you've cried over the loss of your first husband, but now your subconscious has added Brady to your list of loved ones to be mourned?"
Shifting her position on the sofa in the office that had been decorated to resemble a living room, Stephanie said, "I get it, but what am I supposed to do about it? Since walking out on Brady, all I do is miss him, but I know that if he were to somehow be stupid enough to take me back, I'd just flip out again. I mean, I thought what I was afraid of was losing him, but all along, I think I've been scared of losing myself. The woman I was when Michael and I were together." Fingers pressed to her temples, she admitted, "Why can't I get it through my head that I'll never be that woman again? And that it's okay for me to reinvent myself with Brady?"
"During the coming week," the willowy brunette said, adjusting her black-framed glasses, "I want you to focus on not being so hard on yourself. Take one of your earlier statements for instance. If Brady would be stupid enough to want to give you a second chance. From everything I've gathered, you are a kind, loving woman and mother who has understandably lost her way. Why are you so quick to forgive others, but not Stephanie?"
Eyes stinging, she shook her head.
"Do you think you're not worthy of love?"
"No. Just now I think I've grasped the concept that until I'm over Michael, I'm not capable of giving love. And maybe I'm even feeling guilty for having the second chance Michael never had."
With an ironic chuckle, the therapist said, "Very intuitive revelation. Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but there are times in all of our lives when the best solution is falling back to regroup. Stephanie, in realizing that, you've taken a major first step in healing." Her smile was congratulatory. "What you need to do now is release the guilt and give yourself permission to live. Think you can do that?"
No, Stephanie wasn't at all sure. Still, she owed it not only to herself and her girls, but to Brady and Lola to try.
* * *
THAT NIGHT, STEPHANIE FED and bathed the twins, and then tucked them in for the night. When she was sure both were sleeping soundly, she popped the cork of the nice bottle of red she'd picked up on her way home, and without bothering with a glass, took a deep swig.
She had a big evening ahead of her.
Her therapy session had been illuminating. Most of all for the fact that she had subconsciously felt guilty for once again having fun. Well, no more.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, wine bottle on the nightstand, she reached for one of her favorite photos of Michael. The one of the two of them at his family picnic. Skimming the pad of her thumb over his smiling image, she asked, "What am I going to do, Michael?"
It hurt that his family never called. She got the fact that his mom was still grieving, but didn't she realize that a part of him lived on right here in Valley View? Wasn't she the least bit curious about the miracle Michael had left behind?
"We sure made pretty babies," she said, drinking more wine. Made, being the relevant term. What they shared had been the stuff dreams are made of, but what she and Brady shared was every bit as special. In hold ing so tight to her past, she'd essentially thrown away her future. "Thank you for my girls," she whispered. "But now, for me, for them, I've got to let you go."
It took more wine, but she found the emotional strength to gather not only Michael's photos, but his few clothes. A TransGlobal sweatshirt she wore on especially cold and lonely nights. Ticket stubs from their first fancy night out when they'd seen The Phantom of the Opera.
Faster and faster she worked, stunned to discover how empty her bedroom looked with Michael well and truly gone. Stephanie felt at peace knowing his stuff might be safely tucked into a box for Michaela and Melanie to one day explore, but the most important part of him—his love—she would always safely hold inside.
How many times had he told her that should any thing ever happen to him, his wish for her was to go on? He didn't want her engaging in random hook-ups but in the real deal—just like what they'd shared. In Brady she'd found that. Different. Yet at the core—the love—so very much the same.
After taking the snapshot of Michael removing her wedding garter from its silver frame, she replaced it with one of him playing soccer with a bunch of Iraqi orphans. The photo told of his commitment to making the world a better place. One child at a time. Even if the only way he knew to help was by making them smile.
Rising, she crept into the nursery, then set the photo on a shelf next to the changing table. It was important to her that the girls know their father. But it was just as important that they grew to love their new daddy.
That is, if Brady agreed to let her back into his life.
Over the coming days, she had some big decisions. From her perspective, though, the toughest—jumping back into life—had just been made.
* * *
BRIGHT AND EARLY THE NEXT morning, confident in her new directions, Stephanie asked Olivia to watch the girls for a few days, and then sat down for a heart-to-heart with Helen. Leaving the pastry shop with a handshake and promise, she made a brief stop at Lisa's office and then started off on what would surely be the biggest adventure she'd ever had. As expected, her twin had been worried, but this time, once Stephanie explained the breakthrough she'd had at the counselor and then later at home, Lisa had gifted her with a hug and teary well wishes.
In Seattle, a steady downpour made it tough going in finding Brady's apartment. Once she did, as luck would have it, he wasn't home. Sure, she could've called, but considering how gravely she'd botched things up between them, if she were to have any chance at reconciling, she wanted to have that meeting in person.
She also needed to make things right with Lola, starting by delivering a major apology. Since it was only three in the afternoon and Lola didn't get out of school until three-thirty, Stephanie struck out for Clarissa and Vince's, praying they'd at least let her in.
Parked in the drive in front of their home, Stephanie prayed for calm and
surprisingly got it. Since pinpointing her panic hot buttons, her frayed nerves seemed to have exponentially improved. Today was the last big hurdle.
Forcing a deep breath, she jumped from the car and made a mad dash through the rain. On the covered porch, she tried making herself presentable, but gave up. Hopefully, Lola or Brady wouldn't make their decision on whether or not to take her back based upon her dripping hair!
"What are you doing here?" Clarissa only halfway opened the door. "Haven't you already caused enough trouble?"
"Yes, but…" Stephanie willed her pulse to slow. She made this mess. It was her obligation to clean it up. "Look, I don't blame you for being angry on Lola's behalf. What I did was unforgivable, but I'm better now—or, at least getting there—and part of the process is making amends with the people I love."
Expression dubious, Clarissa stepped aside, gesturing for Stephanie to enter the house. Without saying a word, Clarissa left her standing on the stone-floored entry. A minute later, she returned with a plush navy towel. "Dry yourself off. You're a mess."
"Thanks."
Once Stephanie was no longer dripping, Clarissa put on a fresh pot of coffee.
Seated at the kitchen table, Clarissa asked, "Why today? What's happened to make you suddenly worthy of a second chance?"
As succinctly as she could, Stephanie explained her therapy and issues with grief, and how badly she needed Lola and Brady to know her wedding-day meltdown had nothing to do with them and everything to do with her own insecurities.
Once Stephanie had worked herself into a fresh round of tears, Clarissa rounded the table to crush her in a hug. "I'm so glad you came. Since the wedding, Lola's been in a serious funk. While I can't speak for Brady, our little girl will be happy you're here."
"I hope so," Stephanie said, drying her eyes with a tissue Clarissa had given her.
"As for Brady, he's on a two-day layover in Chicago. Feel like waiting?"
Stephanie shook her head.
"Didn't think so."
Clarissa gave her the name and number of Brady's Chicago hotel.
The Baby Twins Page 16
