Third Time's the Bride!

by Merline Lovelace

  But...

  A familiar panic bubbled up. Jaw set, Dawn pushed it back. She would not let the novelty of motherhood wear off. She would not question and doubt and destroy what she and Brian felt for each other. And she would not turn tail and run, dammit. Not this time!

  Even with that stern self-lecture, her heart pounded and she came within a breath of slamming down the laptop’s lid. Several moments went by before she hit the keys again. After an extended search, she brought up a quote from Shakespeare’s Hamlet. She copied the lines, pasted them into the frame, and changed the font to an elegant script.

  Doubt thou the stars are fire;

  Doubt that the sun doth move;

  Doubt truth to be a liar:

  But never doubt I love.

  She skimmed the finished product and thought for a moment before altering the pronoun in the last line from I to we.

  Her face relaxed into a smile as she remembered quoting the Bard to Tommy at the Trevi Fountain. He’d expressed zero interest in learning the source of the quote at the time. She suspected he wouldn’t be any more interested in this verse.

  Dawn thought it was perfect, though, and spent another half hour putting the finishing touches on the invitation before printing out a sample to show Brian when she met him downtown.

  * * *

  She found a badge and a warm welcome waiting for her at EAS headquarters. It was her first visit, and she had to admit she was impressed. A quick glance at the directory inside the lobby indicated EAS occupied the top four floors of the glass-and-steel high-rise. A long list of attorneys and high-powered consulting firms had offices in the lower floors.

  The lobby itself soared upward for three stories, with a massive bronze sculpture of an eagle in flight dominating the central atrium. Dawn took a few moments to admire its glorious artistry before she approached the security desk and identified herself. The uniformed guard manning the desk greeted her with a wide smile.

  “Mr. Ellis’s executive assistant told us to expect you. I’ll buzz her and let her know you’re here.”

  Mere moments later a small private elevator to the right of the security desk pinged open and five feet nothing of smiling Southern charm emerged.

  “I’m LauraBeth Jones. We’ve spoken on the phone. I’m so glad to finally meet you.”

  “Me, too.”

  She offered her hand, but LauraBeth brushed it aside and tugged Dawn down for a quick hug that enveloped her in a soft, familiar scent.

  She straightened, grinning. “I recognize that fragrance. Magnolias ’n Creme, right?”

  “How did you...? Oh, that’s right. Brian told me you work for an all-natural products company. Does it market this lotion?”

  “It does.”

  “What an amazing coincidence.” Smiling, she ushered Dawn to the elevator. “I should tell you I’ve enjoyed our phone conversations. I’ve also enjoyed watching you stand my cool, unflappable boss on his head.”

  “I don’t think I... I mean, he’s not...”

  “Oh, yes, he is. Head over heels.”

  She tapped the only button in the elevator, and the cage zoomed up so swiftly Dawn grabbed the teak rail for support.

  “As if that weren’t enough to make me love you sight unseen,” LauraBeth continued with a wide smile, “Brian mentioned this morning you wanted to ask for my help planning the wedding. And now I find out your company produces my favorite skin cream. It’s fate, child, fate.”

  * * *

  Dawn had pretty much the same reaction when Brian took her to lunch at 1789. The Federal-style building dated from George Washington’s time, but the restaurant featured a modern menu. When they were seated in one of its six intimate dining rooms, Dawn recognized two senators, a very high-profile congresswoman and a political commentator who flamed the airwaves nightly with his antiadministration invective.

  “I used to jog past this place all the time when I was at Georgetown University,” she confided to Brian. “Never imagined I’d stroll through its sacred portals.”

  “Despite all my years in Washington, I’ve never been here, either.”

  “Then why did you...? Ah. I understand.”

  “Do you?” Reaching across the table, he covered her hand with his. “I wasn’t thinking fresh starts, Dawn.”

  Her hand curled into his. “Then what were you thinking?”

  “I did some research before you got to the office. Okay, LauraBeth and I both got online. She found a jeweler just a block from here who designs one-of-a-kind wedding bands. And I,” he added with a smug grin, “found a breeder whose champion wheaten whelped a litter of pups five weeks ago.”

  “Great. Uh, what’s a wheaten?”

  “A midsize terrier, cousin to the Scottie.”

  “Oh, Brian! Tommy will be so jazzed! I’m pretty jazzed myself.”

  “The AKC website says they’re playful, affectionate and faithful. And they don’t shed, as long as you comb them regularly.”

  “I can wield a comb with the best of them. Just ask Kate and Callie.” Her enthusiastic smile took a quick dip. “You have to be careful buying from breeders, though. So many of them operate disgusting puppy mills that turn out inbred, sickly dogs.”

  “Not this one. She’s AKC certified. She’s also a retired IBM executive with a passion for her dogs. She only breeds them once a year, and her website states she’s extremely selective about who she’ll sell to.”

  Although this wheaten sounded perfect, Dawn wouldn’t let herself get too hopeful. “If the mom’s a champ, I’d bet the puppies are probably already spoken for.”

  “They were, but when I called this morning one of the buyers had just backed out. I gave her a credit card for a deposit and told her we’d be by to check out the pup at three.”

  “Wow. You don’t waste time.”

  “Not when I’m after something I want.” Loosening his hold, he nudged her hand toward the menu. “So decide what you’d like. We’ve got places to go and people to see.”

  * * *

  Mere moments after walking into the showroom of the exclusive Georgetown jewelry store, Dawn spotted a wide band of interwoven strands of white and yellow gold.

  “Oooh, this is gorgeous. I saw a ring very much like it in a museum in Venice.”

  “The Palladian Basilica?” the jeweler asked.

  “Yes! Have you been there?”

  “Unfortunately not.” Beaming, he revealed that he’d received inspiration for his design from the museum’s website. “The ring you saw in Venice is from a much-earlier Roman period. It was unearthed at Herculaneum, if I’m not mistaken. Archeologists believe the interwoven strands represent the relationship between the gods and mortals. I prefer to think they symbolize the relationship between man and woman. Interwoven, inextricable, enduring.”

  Brian added his endorsement to her choice. “As LauraBeth would say, ‘It’s fate, child.’ You, me, Venice, this ring.”

  “I can craft a matching band for you,” the jeweler suggested with seeming innocence.

  “Do it.”

  By then Dawn had caught a glimpse of the price tag tucked discreetly in the ring’s velvet nest. Before she could protest, though, or suggest they look at sets that didn’t cost the equivalent of the national debt, Brian had instructed the goldsmith to size her ring to fit and his to be ready ASAP.

  * * *

  They left the goldsmith’s, crossed the Potomac and headed northwest on Route 7. As the suburbs gradually fell away, the rolling hills of Northern Virginia flaunted their fall colors. Ten miles west of Dulles Airport, MapQuest guided them off the pike toward the small town of Woodburn. From there, a series of country roads eventually led to a Colonial-style farmhouse set on a gently sloping rise.

  The retired IBM executive turned out to be
short, stocky and as passionate about her dogs as her website had indicated. Before taking Dawn and Brian to see the litter, Audrey Chesterfield grilled them on the kind of home they would provide her precious pup. Only then did she escort them to a small den paneled in golden pine. Unlatching a puppy gate, she waved them inside.

  “This is Lady Adelaide’s Fancy,” Chesterfield said, beaming with pride as she stroked the wheaten’s curly ears. “She took best in breed at Westminster two years ago.”

  The champion came to just above the breeder’s knees. Her brown eyes clear and bright, she checked the newcomers over and made no protest as Chesterfield reached down to separate one of her pups from its lively, inquisitive siblings.

  “And this is Adelaide’s Pride.”

  The moment the breeder placed the wiggling bundle of joy in Dawn’s arms, she fell instantly, irretrievably in love.

  “Yes.” She laughed as the pup made repeated lunges to swipe ecstatically at her chin and cheeks. “Oh, yes.”

  “That’s the wheaten greetin’,” Chesterfield informed her with a broad smile. “You’ll find the breed is smart, loyal and adaptable to city life as long as they get enough exercise. They’re also given to wildly enthusiastic displays of affection.”

  “So I see!”

  “On the downside,” she warned, “they require a lot of grooming. They don’t like to get wet, and when they do, these long coats need serious brushing or they get all matted and tangled. They’re also sloppy eaters. Food can get caught in their beards. You might find this guy wiping his chin on your leg.”

  Dawn didn’t hesitate. A little dog food on her leg couldn’t begin to distract from the pup’s unbridled joy.

  “He’s perfect,” she breathed, burying her face in the soft, curly coat. “We’ll pick him up a week from Saturday.”

  Chapter Ten

  The rest of the week zoomed by so fast Dawn could barely catch her breath.

  The first thing she did was contact her family to tell them about Brian. And, oh, by the way, ask whether they could make it to Washington on October 11 for a wedding. Her two older brothers said they couldn’t due to other commitments but Dawn suspected they didn’t really believe it would happen. Her youngest brother, Aaron, said he wouldn’t miss it. She braced herself for the next calls. Her father, bless him, tried hard to sound enthusiastic. But fifteen seconds into the conversation with her mother, Dawn was grinding her teeth so hard they hurt.

  “Yes. Mom, I’m well aware this is my third time at bat.”

  A pause.

  “Yes, I know jumping into a ready-made family is a big risk.”

  Another pause, accompanied by the realization she might have to schedule a visit to a dentist.

  “You’re right. I’ve certainly seen firsthand how marriage to the wrong man can suck the marrow from a woman’s bones. Do you want me to get you a plane ticket, or not?”

  Her mother conceded, but only after suggesting she purchase a fully refundable ticket. Dawn hung up, already regretting that she and Brian didn’t just hustle off to a justice of the peace.

  Thankfully, moving Callie into the gatehouse dispelled most of the fumes from that noxious conversation. Dawn picked her up at Kate’s that same afternoon and gave her a tour of both the detached bungalow and the main house.

  “Oh,” Callie exclaimed when she saw the backyard and fanciful gazebo. “How lovely. No wonder you wanted to have the ceremony here. It’s perfect.”

  “Assuming the skies don’t open and drown us all out.”

  “What’s the forecast?”

  “Still too far out for any degree of certainty. It looks like I may get lucky, though.”

  Their glances met, but they both left unsaid it would be the first time.

  * * *

  Callie joined Dawn, Brian and Tommy for breakfast the next morning and helped clean the kitchen before heading out for her customary brisk walk. While she explored the neighborhood, Tommy scooted upstairs to get ready for school. His absence gave Dawn the few moments she needed to broach a difficult subject with Brian.

  “I noticed you moved the framed pictures of Caroline out of the great room. And took down the ones that hung in the hall. You didn’t need to do that.”

  A shadow flitted across his eyes, but they held Dawn’s, sure and steady and unwavering.

  “Yes, I did. It’s incredibly generous of you to live in the house I shared with Caroline. I didn’t want it to be more difficult for you than it has to be.”

  “Oh, Brian. We talked about this. It’s Tommy’s home, too. All his friends live in this neighborhood. They go to the same school. I don’t want him to give them up any more than I want you to give up your memories of Caroline. She was so much a part of your life.”

  She framed his face with both palms, aching at the thought of the pain and desolation he’d gone through.

  “You wouldn’t be the man you are today if not for the years you shared with your wife.”

  He let out a short breath. “That’s true.”

  “I’m not jealous of those years. I could never be jealous of them. And I don’t want you to erase Caroline’s presence from this house or from her son’s memory. So I thought... Well... If you don’t mind, I’d like to make a digital memory book for Tommy. One he could carry on his phone when he gets one, or load onto a computer or TV. I thought it might include pictures of you and Caroline, as well as any you have of Tommy with his mom. I want shots of just the two of you, too, as he’s growing up. Photos from our time together in Italy. His first grade debut. And everything else the three of us share in the weeks and months and years ahead.”

  He was quiet for so long that Dawn recognized the inherent flaw in what until this moment she’d considered was a good idea. How stupid to think he’d want to share his private memories of Caroline with her! Even more stupid to think he’d want to link his painful past to Tommy’s present. She was about to dismiss the idea with a laugh and say it was only a thought when he broke the charged silence.

  “Wait right here.”

  She waited, still prey to doubts, until he returned some moments later with his arms full. He dumped his load on the counter and sorted through the various items. The first one he offered her was a thick album with “Ellis Family” embossed on the front.

  “My dad put this together for Tommy.”

  Dawn lifted the embossed lid and found herself staring at a grim, unsmiling couple. The woman stood with one hand on the shoulder of a man with muttonchop whiskers. They were both in black—her in a dress unrelieved by so much as a trace of white lace; he in a frock coat buttoned almost to his chin.

  She flipped to the next page and skimmed the yellowed documents. “Good Lord! These are copies of military records from the Civil War.”

  She leaned closer to decipher the spidery handwriting.

  Company H, 8th Virginia Infantry, CSA. July 21, 1861. List of Killed, Wounded and Missing in Action.

  It took her a moment to translate CSA into the Confederate States of America. The entry right below made her heart thump.

  Corporal J. D. Ellis. Wounded. Manassas. Returned to duty August 10.

  And after that.

  Company H, 8th Virginia Infantry. July 2, 1863. Corporal J. D. Ellis. Missing in action.

  Company H, 8th Virginia Infantry. August 9, 1863. Corporal J. D Ellis. Prisoner in the hands of the enemy, Ft. McHenry.

  Company H, 8th Virginia Infantry. September 19, 1864. Corporal J. D. Ellis. Returned to duty in prisoner exchange.

  “This is amazing. Where’d your dad get these records?”

  “Some genealogy loop he subscribes to.” He shot her a quick grin. “Sure you want to marry up with the descendent of a dyed-in-the wool Reb?”

  “If you want to marry up with a Yankee whose Irish great-great-gre
at grandfather stowed away on a freighter and snuck into the US illegally.”

  As she turned the pages, Tommy’s ancestry came vibrantly alive. So did a design for the memory book. She would use sepia tones for the pages with photos from the 1800s. Add bits of history, unit insignia, crossed cannons from the Civil War. Maybe add some music from that time, too. She’d frame the two studio portraits from the 1920s with more bits of history depicting that exuberant, post-WWI era.

  She’d have to use every bit of her Photoshop expertise to restore the old photos and daguerreotypes, including the faded snapshots from WWII. But even without restoration, she could detect Brian in the crossed arms and wide-legged stance of the individual standing against the backdrop of a propeller-driven aircraft with a voluptuous brunette painted on its fuselage.

  “Who’s this?”

  “Tommy’s great-great-grandad. Right before the 1943 invasion of Sicily.”

  “These photos are fantastic. Do you have similar ones from Caroline’s side of the family?”

  “Just a few family photos. And these.”

  She shuffled through the other items he’d carried into the kitchen. Another album. The photos that had previously hung in the hall and occupied shelf space in the den. And one she hadn’t seen before. It was a framed, unposed shot of Caroline. She looked over her shoulder, her eyes laughing at the camera, as she held her infant son tucked close to her chin. Her lips just brushed his downy curls.

  Dawn could see her love for both husband and son. Feel it. “How old is Tommy here?”

  “Three months, six days.”

  The terse, precise reply brought her head up. Brian took his eyes off the photo and explained.

  “I took that shot the morning we drove to the neurologist to get the results of the MRI. The first MRI,” he amended. “When we still thought her dizziness and nagging headaches could be cured with a pill and a good night’s sleep.”

  Dawn ran a fingertip lightly over the glass, aching for him and for the mother who didn’t get to watch her baby grow into such a bright, lively, inquisitive boy.