thought had never crossed her mind before now, perhaps her dad was still looking at her as his precious little girl and not the full-grown woman that she was? It made perfect sense to Brooke, that would explain why he was being so temperamental and couldn’t let her take charge. He was feeling that he was past his usefulness to her.
Her cheeks began to burn and her head ached, she suddenly felt so terrible for speaking so harshly to her father. She sprawled out on her bed and hugged her pillow, the one her father had given her for her thirteenth birthday. How she loved that pillow, a bright pink satin heart, daintily trimmed with fine white lace around the edges and her name embroidered in the centre in beautiful scroll. On the back there was a secret pocket hidden under the slip, inside it Brooke kept the special note her dad had written for her.
To my Brooke,
Here it is your thirteenth birthday and I am finding that you are growing way too fast. You have been my precious princess for so long, yet the time when you will spread your wings and fly away has drawn closer much too quickly. I want you to keep this pillow always, to remember how much I love you and how no matter what age you are, I will always be here for you, even big girls need their Daddies too!
Love always,
Dad. Xxx
Reading his impassioned words tugged at her heartstrings and the guilt surged through her like an electric shock. She gathered herself together and made her way back into the kitchen to apologise to her father. Tomorrow was her special day and she couldn’t imagine walking down the aisle knowing that the last words she had spoken to her father were bitter. Apart from her fiancée, her dad was the single most important man in her life, and she didn’t want that to be jeopardised over some silly fight the night before her wedding.
Her mother turned toward her and gave her a supportive wink, her dad glanced up at her from his paper and said, “Aahh, there you are Princess, look I am sorry about before, it got a bit out of hand didn’t it?”
Brooke threw her arms around him and hugged him in the tightest bear hug she could muster, “Oh dad, I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have gone off like that, I guess it’s just nerves eh?”
Her father laughed one of his infamous belly laughs that she always found hysterical as a girl, and squeezed her back. “Nerves? You have no idea about nerves, why you should have seen your mother before we got married. I thought we were going to have to tranquillise her just to get her through the ceremony! But, all’s well that ends well my sweet.”
Brooke glanced over at her mother who was nodding her head in agreement, albeit embarrassed, and mimed Thanks mum.
“Well love, we best get cracking and finish that gown,” her mother suggested before throwing down her tea towel and walking into the living room. “Frank, would you be a dear and see to it that the boys are all under control and know what they are supposed to be doing tomorrow?” she continued.
“Sure thing love, I’ll go check on them now. We want to make sure we still have a groom for you eh?” he joked to Brooke, digging her playfully in the ribs. She flashed him a nervous smile and made a half-baked attempt to look amused, but deep down she was waiting for him to start off on his wrap up about Grant again. Whether her father picked up on her discomfort or whether he just thought better of it, he shot her a sideways look, opened his mouth and then closed it again without saying so much as a word.
Brooke joined her mother, as she entered the living room, her eyes fell upon her wedding gown hanging gracefully on a hanger.
“Oh mum,” was all she could manage before the tears welled in her eyes and a knot formed in her throat.
“It’s gorgeous isn’t it?” her mother whispered. “Well here, quick, try it on,” she coached “I want to see how stunning my daughter looks in her wedding gown.” Frozen to the spot, Brooke could do nothing more than stare at the beauty her mother had spent the last six months creating for her. Slipping the ivory gown off the hanger, her mother unbuttoned the beaded, brocade bodice and slid the zipper open, motioning for Brooke to step into it.
“Well my darling, here is your dream dress, a sweetheart neckline, three quarter sleeves and a svelte A-line skirt, complete with a three meter long train. Do you think it’ll hold your man’s attentions long enough for him to marry you?” she joked, trying to stop herself from bursting into an avalanche of tears. After wiping the tears from her eyes, Brooke nodded and stripped off her nightie, ready to step into the gown. With both feet planted firmly on the ground inside the skirt, her mother pulled the dress up around Brooke and fastened the buttons and zip. For a moment neither of them could speak, they were just silent as they both gazed in the full-length mirror on the other side of the room.
“I, I,” “I look like a bride! I am finally going to be a bride!” cried Brooke. She turned and faced her mother, “I don’t know what I would have done without you mum, it’s simply stunning… thank you.”
Still fighting back the tears, her mother replied “You go out there and marry that boy tomorrow, and don’t worry about your father, he’ll be fine. I am so proud of you Brooke.” Her mother then threw her arms around her and gave her the longest embrace she had ever given her. When she had stepped out of the dress, she hung it back over the hanger and covered it with the dry cleaners bag to protect it until tomorrow.
She looked at her mum with curiosity building inside her and then asked “Mum, why is dad so set on Grant?” Her mother just stared at her, not certain how to reply. “I know it’s a good thing that he likes him and all, but of all the boyfriends I’ve had, what was so special about Grant that he left such an impression on dad?”
Letting out a defeated sigh, she replied “Sweetheart, I honestly don’t know. Maybe Grant just struck a personal chord with your father that neither of us knows about. But don’t dwell on it, he still loves you as much as he always has.”
“I guess,” Brooke started “It’d just be nice to think that,”
“To think what?” an inquisitive voice piped up from the hallway.
“Grandma!” squealed Brooke, tripping over herself in a mad rush to give her a welcoming cuddle.
“Hello pet, how are the nerves? I’m not too late for a teeny nightcap with you before you sneak off to catch your beauty sleep am I?”
“Oh Grandma, you are still as feisty as ever,” laughed Brooke.
They both turned when the sound of rattling approached them, her mother had brought the decanter and glasses into the living room.
“Hello mum, let me take those bags,” she said before planting a warm kiss on Grandma’s cheek.
Grandma returned the gesture and said “Hello Rose, it’s so nice to see you again,” and then jovially added “Especially when you offer such wonderful beverages!”
Grandma had always been partial to a little nip of gin every now and again… a little now and again, and again, and again, Brooke had always thought. She was quite often the life of the party with a few nips under her belt, although quite frankly, the trick she does with her false teeth used to scare the heck out of Brooke and her school friends. Yet the more they screamed, the more Grandma would continue her dental assault, it was really very haunting… when she was eight! She was a twisted old woman for sure, but that’s what Brooke had loved about her, she never ceased to amaze and amuse those she came in contact with. For a long time Grandma was her confidant, she felt she could tell her anything and most of the time she did just that.
“Tell me Rose, where’s that son of mine?” asked grandma in manner that dictated that she had only just realised he wasn’t there.
“I sent him out to check on the boys and make sure that they are all behaving and know their part tomorrow, he shouldn’t be too long now,” she replied as she poured a generous shot for grandma.
With a hearty laugh, grandma slapped her knee and cried “Oh good Lord woman, he won’t be home anytime soon, I bet ya ten to one he’s hittin' the hard stuff with them young fellas as we speak!” Still chuckling, she downed her shot and held her glass o
ut for another.
“Oh dear,” Rose answered “I hadn’t thought about that, they wouldn’t do that would they?”
Grandma looked at Brooke and wrinkled her nose up and poked out her tongue, to signal that she was pulling her mothers leg, “Not if he knows what’s good for him Rose. Never mind, just keep pouring will ya?”
“So,” said Grandma, facing Brooke, “How’s the bride to be holding up?”
“Oh, I’m just fine thanks, actually I am overwhelmed with the fantastic job mum has done making my dream gown, it’s magnificent.”
“Does Grandma get a sneak peek too?” she asked cheekily.
“Sorry grandma, no can do,” replied Brooke “You will have to wait until tomorrow like everybody else!”
“Oh drats,” said grandma as she snapped her fingers and stomped her foot on the floor like a two year old throwing a tantrum.
“Now mum, there would be no surprise for you tomorrow if you see all the goodies tonight.”
“Maybe so, but it doesn’t hurt to try and slip a quick viewing in now anyway, does it?” replied grandma.
Brooke stood up and raised her arms above her head, yawning “Anyway you two, it’s time for me to get some rest, in another sixteen hours I will be Mrs Stevens and I want to look my best for the occasion. So if you don’t mind, I’m off to bed.” They both gazed up at her and said
The Wedding Page 2
