Unleash Me: Wedding (The Unleash Me Series)

by Christina Ross

  “I’ve come to love your father,” I said. “He’s been wonderful to me since I’ve been here.”

  “He feels the same about you. He knows you’re the one for me.”

  “So, if Ethel isn’t going to walk you down the aisle, will it be Blackwell? I told you last night that she’d be happy to do it.”

  “While you were asleep, I phoned her last night after talking with Dad, and I asked her if she would. She said she’d be honored to. She also said that the dress she’d chosen to wear for the wedding would be ‘perfectly suitable’ to walk me down the aisle.”

  “What are your family and Ethel’s friends going to make of this, Tank?”

  “I really don’t care what any of them think, Lisa, and you shouldn’t either. Today is about us. I’m serious about that.”

  “I tried with your mother,” I said. “I worked hard to make her like me. I need you to know that. Because I did give it my all—until her words and her deeds became so offensive, I couldn’t take it anymore.”

  “Her actions are her own, and she owns the consequences. I don’t want her there today. My mother might have given birth to me, but after what she’s tried to pull when it comes to us? That alone doesn’t give her the right to see her son get married. Some of us are lucky to have had great mothers in our lives while others are lucky to have had great mother figures. Barbara is the latter for me. So, she’s the one who will be at my side today. Now, look. I’ve made my decision, and I’m happy with it. Today, we not only go forward without my mother but we do so knowing we have my father’s full support.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Four hours before our noon wedding, Tank and I had showered, dressed, and breakfasted with his father. Ethel remained silent in her bedroom.

  Whatever, lady, I’d thought at the time. Your refusal to show your face this morning and to apologize to your son and to me says it all. You’ve made your choice. You’ve actually decided to miss your own son’s wedding, and by doing so, you’ve also refused to walk him down the aisle. You might not know it yet, but those decisions will haunt you for the rest of your life.

  After we ate, Harold asked one of the farmhands to take our clothes down to the tents. Since my dress, his tux, and our shoes were sealed in heavy plastic bags, there was no chance they’d get dirty on the walk there. I was cleaning up with Tank at the kitchen sink when I heard the sound of cars pulling into the driveway. I looked through the sun-filled windows in front of me and saw the three limousines curling to a stop in front of the house.

  “Those will be your friends,” Harold said. “Lisa, I have a feeling that Barbara and Bernie are going to want to start turning you into the princess you’re about to become. You should join them now so that none of you will feel rushed.” He turned to his son. “It’s probably best for you to join Alex, Cutter, and Rudman in your tent. Your uncle Sam and cousin Taylor will be along soon, and I’ll direct them your way when they arrive.”

  “Thanks, Dad,” Tank said.

  “No problem.” And then Harold just looked at each of us and addressed the elephant in the room. “I was hoping Ethel would come to her senses and join us while the three of us were having breakfast, but she hasn’t, and since I know her like the back of my hand, if she isn’t here now, she won’t be coming to the wedding. I’m sorry about that.”

  “Don’t be,” Tank said. “That’s her choice, Dad. But I’m glad you’ll be there for us. I know you’ll probably take some heat for that, but please know that Lisa and I appreciate your support.”

  “I wouldn’t miss my son’s wedding for the world,” Harold said, and when he said that, the expression on his face became so deflated by defeat—if only for an instant before he caught himself—I could tell that he couldn’t believe his wife would go this far in an effort to punish her son. But she had, and I could tell just by looking at Harold that this particular pill was hard for him to swallow. He was embarrassed by his wife’s behavior, and my heart went out to him because of it. Ethel was Ethel, and not even her husband of so many decades could sway her from her decision.

  “Now, listen,” he said with a bright clap of his hands. “I know Ethel was supposed to be the one coordinating everyone’s arrival, but in her absence, there’s no reason why I can’t see to all of it, so I will. I’ll tend to everything—the cake, the caterers, and the guests. I don’t want you two worrying about a thing, so how about that? Sound good?”

  At that moment, I heard footsteps coming toward us.

  “That won’t be necessary,” Ethel said. “Not if my son and his bride will have me, at least.”

  In surprise, I turned to my right and looked down the long hallway that led to the kitchen. And there was Ethel herself, walking straight toward us in a beautiful pale yellow dress that came just to her knees and emphasized how slim and fit she was. She was in full hair and makeup, and in her right hand was a large yellow hat. As she stepped into the kitchen and stood before us, I saw that with the exception of a few lesions on her neck, which she’d mostly concealed with makeup, that her face appeared normal to me.

  “Ethel,” Harold said.

  “Would you mind tending to Mitchell and Lisa’s guests, dear? I have some apologizing to do.”

  “It’s too late for that,” Tank said to her. “Nobody here wants to listen to anything you have to say.”

  “Let her talk, Mitch,” Harold said. “Let her say her peace.”

  As Harold went to the door and told everyone that we’d be just a moment, Tank stood silent before he finally turned to me. “Do you want to hear this? Because neither of us has to.”

  “I think we should, if only for the sake of the family,” I said, and that was true. After everything Ethel had done, she was on the brink of losing her son. And despite everything, I didn’t want that to happen. I didn’t want this family to be divided if Ethel could somehow turn it around now. Given her treatment of me—and her betrayal of us—I wasn’t sure whether that was even possible. But since I was curious to know what she had to say, I looked at her, saw a rare look of vulnerability in her eyes, and then nodded at her.

  “What do you have to say, Ethel?” I asked.

  She put her hat down on the breakfast table and then seemed to search for the right words.

  “That’s just it,” she said quietly to us. “I’ve behaved so poorly, I’m not sure quite what to say other than I’m sorry for my behavior and for how that behavior has affected each of you. I’ve had a day to think about this, and what I can tell you is that I’m ashamed of myself. I did some awful things that I’ll never be able to take back, but I want you to know that I would if I could. Last night, from my bedroom window, I could hear the festivities coming from the tent below. And so I opened the window and listened to Alex’s toast to you, Mitchell, and Jennifer’s toast to Lisa. What they said was beautiful and heartfelt, and because of my own actions, I missed out on witnessing those moments in person.”

  She looked at me.

  “The problem isn’t you, Lisa,” she said. “It’s also not your books. You’ve done nothing wrong. If anything, you tried your best to put up with me until it was impossible to do so. The problem is me. It begins and it ends with me. If you were anybody else, I likely would have done the same thing to them. The question is why. Why have I done this? I thought about that this morning, after Harold chastised me for my behavior. By doing so, he forced me to face myself, which is why I’m here now. I obviously have an irrational fear of losing my son to someone else. I have my theories as to why that is, which are too personal to share, too difficult for me to revisit that time in my life. But as I thought about it this morning, I knew I couldn’t use what happened to me when I was young as an excuse for how I’ve behaved. Because if I did, I would only lose everything I hold dear to me.”

  She’s talking about her miscarriages, I thought. And as awful as it is that she went through them, she’s right—they are no excuse. They happened too long ago to use them as an excuse.

  And
so I had to wonder. Was she being sincere right now? Should I believe what I was hearing? Or was she just manipulating us again? I wanted to believe her—I wanted this to be over between us—but I couldn’t be sure. Was it possible ever to trust her again?

  “I know that I have to change,” she said. “And I’m ready to change—it’s why I’m here now, dressed for the day and ready to help in any way I can to make certain that today goes as smoothly as possible for each of you. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I’m hoping each of you will give me a chance to redeem myself.” She looked at Tank. “And that you will allow your real mother to walk you down the aisle. Because I do love you, Mitchell. I hope that you and Lisa will allow me to mend what I’ve done.”

  “I don’t know what to say,” Tank said.

  “That you’ll give me that chance?”

  “You went too far,” he said. “You crossed too many lines. You tried to interfere with my relationship, for Christ’s sake. That’s a lot to swallow, Mom. You pushed me to the point that I actually didn’t give a damn whether you came to our wedding today. Think about that for a minute.”

  “I don’t know what else to say other than I’m genuinely sorry.”

  “I think you might be,” I said—and when I said that, Tank looked at me in surprise. But then I knew more than Tank knew about his mother’s past and how it had clearly fucked her up. That wasn’t for me to reveal—I’d promised Harold to keep it secret, which I’d honor. But after listening to everything she’d just said to us, it was hard not to believe that Ethel had taken a good look at herself this morning. Maybe she had come to realize the consequences of her actions. Maybe she’d finally had her come-to-Jesus moment.

  “I forgive you,” I said. “But if you meddle in our lives again, Ethel, that’s it for us. You need to be clear on that.”

  Her eyes welled with tears when I said that, and she quickly swiped them away, as if the act of showing emotion were something to be ashamed of. “Thank you,” she said. “I understand why my son loves you—it’s because you’re good, Lisa. You’re kind. I’m sorry for what I’ve done.”

  “What’s this about your past?” Tank asked. “What happened to you in your youth that would drive you to behave as you have? I need to know, since it’s clearly affected you enough to hurt the woman I love…and also me.”

  “I can’t,” she said.

  “Well, you need to,” Tank said.

  “Ethel, it will be all right,” Harold said from the doorway. “Maybe you should tell him. There’s no shame in it.”

  “But I’ve never wanted to tell anyone,” she said. “Only you know, because you had to know. And you’ll never know how much I hated disappointing you then, Harold. How humiliated I felt each time it happened.”

  “Each time what happened?” Tank asked.

  Ethel looked over her shoulder at her husband, and Harold nodded at her to go on. When she turned back to Tank, she tried to look at him but couldn’t.

  “Before I gave birth to you, I had two miscarriages,” she said. “My doctor told me that I’d never have children. It’s then that I found God. It’s then that I started to pray. The reason I believe so strongly in my faith is because God delivered you to me, Mitchell. It was a difficult pregnancy, and I was ordered to stay in bed for months, but I still prayed…right up until the day you were born. I can still see my doctor’s face when she delivered you to me. She said it was a miracle, and I agreed with her, because I knew that you were in fact a miracle. When I first held you in my arms, I was so scared of losing you that I promised you that no one would ever hurt you. That I’d protect you for the rest of your life. When you decided to go into the marines, I thought I might lose you then. When you went to war, I was certain I might lose you. And ever since you went into personal security, it’s been hell for me, because I nearly lost you several times while you were on the job. One time you nearly died for Lisa. You took a bullet for her. Would you take another one for her? Yes—of course you would, because you love her. And if not her, then you would have done the same for someone else, and then one day you’d be gone.”

  “Jesus,” Tank said.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ve already told you that it’s no excuse. I never wanted to share any of this with you. I just wanted to come down here and see if we could somehow start over.”

  Tank was silent for a moment before he came to his decision. “We can try,” he said.

  When he said that, Ethel looked up at him with such gratitude, I actually felt for her, because in her eyes, I could see all that she was feeling—happiness, shame, relief, and embarrassment. Was she being truthful with us now? It felt like she was, and for the first time in a long while, I wondered whether we could eventually put all this behind us and become a family.

  That was my hope, but I already knew that I’d forever be wary.

  “That’s all I ask,” she said to him. “Will you accept my apology?”

  “I’ll accept it for now,” Tank said.

  “As will I,” I said. “Because believe it or not, Ethel, I do want this family to be close. It would be great if we could become friends one day. Whether that happens is up to you, not me.”

  “That’s more than fair,” she said.

  I checked the time on my watch and knew I had to leave and join my friends, if only because I didn’t want Bernie to feel rushed. He not only had to do my hair and makeup but also Jennifer’s, Blackwell’s, Daniella’s, and Alexa’s.

  “I need to go,” I said to Tank as I stood on tiptoe to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Everyone is waiting for me.” In an effort to lighten the God-awful mood that hung in the air, I said to him, “I’ll try to be a princess when you see me next.”

  “And I’ll do my best to look like your prince. Have fun with Bernie and the girls, OK?”

  “And you have fun with the boys.” I looked over at Harold and hooked my thumb toward Tank. “You’ll make sure this one looks his best?”

  “You can count on it, Lisa.”

  “I know I can, Harold.” And then I looked at Ethel, who seemed lost to me, as if she felt uncomfortable in her own home. Her own skin. After all that she’d just said to us, I decided to reach out to her again in an effort to take the weight off her. “And I’ll see you at the wedding, right?”

  “You will,” she said.

  “Tank, will Ethel be walking you down the aisle? I’ll need to tell Blackwell.”

  “Do you want to?” Tank asked his mother.

  “More than anything, Mitchell.”

  “Tell Blackwell that I appreciate her willingness to step up for me but that my mother will be walking me down the aisle.”

  “Will do.” I looked at Ethel. “I’m glad you’re coming, Ethel. Thanks for seeing to everything while we get ready.”

  “It’s my pleasure, Lisa,” she said. “It really is.”

  And when she said that, the gratitude in her eyes alone sold me.

  The woman meant it.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  “How absolutely, spectacularly, positively melodramatic,” Blackwell said once I’d told everyone what had just transpired in the kitchen. After greeting one another in the driveway, we were now walking toward the tents and the gazebo. The morning was hot and the sun was blinding, but at least there was a breeze, for which I was grateful.

  “Oh, it was every bit of that!” I said.

  “That mujer is kind of a whack job,” Epifania said. “And when I say the whack job, I don’t mean the hand job, OK? Because just so you know, my leetle tribe of the boobies, I never confuse the two!”

  “Noted,” I said with a giggle.

  “Lisa, I think you handled the situation as well as you could,” Jennifer said. “I mean, walking through that minefield and deciding where to step couldn’t have been easy.”

  “What a lovely metaphor,” Blackwell said whimsically. “And not at all a cliché.”

  “Lady…” Jennifer warned.

  “Oh, lighten up, Mom
mie Dearest. I’m trying to brighten the mood. I mean, look at me, for heaven’s sake. A goddamned trooper walking through a never-ending path of grass while trying to dodge a motherlode of mud pies. And in Dior heels, no less. If that doesn’t score me a few points, I don’t know what will. I mean, in this heat, it will be a miracle if we get to that tent alive, so we might as well have a few laughs along the way—only so that if we do die, and rigor mortis sets in, the people who come upon us will say, ‘Well, at least they died smiling.’”

  “You know,” Jennifer said, “actually that was absolutely, spectacularly, positively melodramatic.”

  “Oh, my dear!” Blackwell said. “It’s still early—and I’ve just gotten started!”

  “Mud pies,” I heard Alexa say behind me in a weirdly dreamy voice. “Do any of you have any idea the sheer amount of nutrients that are in them? I know most people just see them as nothing more than piles of manure—”

  “Shit,” Daniella corrected. “Piles of cow shit, Alexa, because that’s what they are. Don’t try to frame them as something they’re not.”

  “Fine, cow shit,” Alexa said. “But you should be thankful for them, Daniella, because you’ve certainly benefited from them.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Since I’ve only seen cattle and chicken being raised here, I have a feeling the McCollisters sell their manure to other farmers who grow things like wheat, which is common in the Midwest. And since I know you love yourself one big pile of spaghetti, what you should also know is that the wheat that produced that spaghetti was likely nourished with huge quantities of cow shit. So, think about that for a moment.”

  “I think we’re all thinking about that at this moment,” I said.

  “You’re telling me that the noodles I eat are made from shit?” Daniella asked.