He was probably the only one in town who did.
And as February 14 dawned cold and crisp and sunny, people in Tyler woke up and began pressing white shirts and polishing dress shoes. Everyone planned to get to the church on time, regardless of whether or not the bride and groom did the same.
Phil Wocheck expressed common sentiments when he told Sheila Lawson, “Wouldn’t miss the fireworks for the world.”
* * *
DREW WOKE UP with a knot in his gut and an ominous buzzing in his head. He lay in bed and stared at the tuxedo hanging from his closet door. What if it didn’t fit, after all? What if there’d been a mix-up and he’d picked up the wrong tuxedo and this one wouldn’t button? Or what if his clock was wrong and he’d awakened too late and...
He reached for the phone on his bedside table and dialed Sandy’s number. He would tell her he loved her and she would say the same and he would feel better. Then he would get up, dress and meet Jake at the church. This would soon be over and they would wake up tomorrow in San Diego, Mr. and Mrs. Andrew Stirling.
Wouldn’t they?
Or would Cupid’s curse continue? That was what someone had called it two days ago, when he went in to make sure the rings were ready. The two words had spun around in his head ever since. At least he’d had the good sense not to repeat them to Sandy.
Her telephone rang and rang. Drew’s heart began to pound a little too fast. Finally, the answering machine kicked in.
“Hi, this is Sandy. I’m not taking calls today, but—”
He hung up. He tried to remember if that was what the message on her machine normally said. Not taking calls today? What did that mean?
One version of the Mag-Clarence debacle surfaced in his memory—the version that said Mag had locked herself in her room the day of the wedding and refused to talk to anyone.
The knot in his gut began to tighten. He pulled the covers over his head. The phone rang and he almost didn’t answer it. Then it dawned on him it must be Sandy. He yanked at the covers, had to fight them off, almost lost out to a particularly determined sheet, then snatched the ringing phone off the hook.
It was Jake. “You up yet?”
“She’s not answering her phone.”
“She’s probably dressing. The way you’re supposed to be.” Jake sounded exasperated.
Drew let out a loud sigh. “You think?”
“Yes. Now get your butt ready. I’ll pick you up in an hour.”
“Jake, what if I can’t? What if I can’t do it?”
* * *
MAG AND CLARENCE RAN into each other at the front door of Worthington House. In honor of the day, Mag wore peach-colored silk instead of her usual bright tones. Her nails were the same color, as were her shoes and the silk flowers wound artfully into her blond curls. Ravishing, she thought, but not so ravishing she would show up the bride. Mag had done that kind of thing deliberately in her youth, but she had mellowed with the years.
“You’re looking dashing today,” she said to Clarence with all the dignity she could muster.
“As are you.” He moved his walking stick to his other hand and proffered his arm. “I would be honored to accompany you to the church, my dear.”
Startled, Mag didn’t know what to say. If asked, she would have said that never in a million years would she set foot in a church anywhere near Clarence Stirling. But he was a charming old goat—more so now than ever, it sometimes seemed to her—and perhaps this was the day to let bygones be bygones.
Mag looked at the limo waiting for them at the curb. “Well, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to ride together.” She slipped her gloved hand into the crook of his arm.
He smiled down at her mischievously. “What say we give them the slip? It’s such a glorious day, Mag, why not walk?”
“Why not, indeed? As I always say, give ’em something to talk about.”
He laughed, and Mag discovered she felt far more gay this morning than she had expected to.
“At the risk of spoiling the day,” Clarence said, “I fear there is something we must discuss.”
Mag was silent. She had promised to support her granddaughter and she intended to keep her word.
“I spoke with Judson Ingalls yesterday,” Clarence continued.
“Yes?”
“He tells me there may be some basis for your claim that you were the wronged party.”
The words stopped Mag dead in her tracks. “He did?”
“Indeed he did, much to my regret.”
He told her then what she’d been too immature and too wounded to listen to fifty years ago. Thanks to a flat tire on the isolated country road that in those days was the only way into town from Timberlake Lodge, Clarence and his best man, Judson, home on leave just in time for the wedding, had been late arriving at the church. So late that she had already left, in tears, to lock herself in her room. So late that the bride had gone away certain that the unsavory rumors about her groom and the best man’s wife were true. “At the time, Judson and I both assumed you had decided not to show up yourself,” Clarence said. “And I was in no state to talk to anybody at the church. By the time Judson found out what really happened, it was too late to inform me that you had been there that morning.”
Mag sighed. “You’d already left Tyler by then. Without even talking to me.”
“I tried to see you, Mag. I called every day for weeks.”
“You did?” Mag remembered his calls that first day, which she had refused to take. “Mother never told me that.”
“I fear our parents were the biggest hindrance to settling the difficulty.”
“But they wanted us to marry. I know they did.”
“Indeed they did. But the last weeks before the wedding, my father and yours were not on the most amicable of terms. There was heated debate, it seems, over when I would take over the businesses. Your father feared he was being pushed aside.” Clarence looked down at her apologetically. “Knowing my father as I do, I fear your parent’s concerns were probably well-founded.”
She stared at him, stunned. “We should have eloped, after all.”
He nodded and patted her hand. “Families are a troublesome business.”
They continued walking toward the church, a mere half block away.
“So, Magdalena,” he said as they reached the church steps, “your granddaughter does intend to show this morning?”
“Not if she takes my advice.” And Mag smiled, a smile tinged with bittersweet.
The sunshine sparkled like diamonds in his laughing gray eyes. Oh, he was a handsome devil.
“An interesting day is in store for us all, my dear. A most interesting day.”
* * *
SANDY STOOD IN the bedroom where she’d spent all her nights as a little girl. She stared at the rock posters left over from her high school years, the team pennants, the mementos tucked into corners of the dresser mirror and tacked onto the corkboard over her desk. Notes from her best friends. A Polaroid snapshot of the pep squad. Her drooping, faded pom-pom.
She was frightened and there was nothing here to reassure her.
Britt popped her head into the room. “Time to get dressed.”
Renee appeared next, her big eyes pleading. “You’re going to be late.”
Stalling, that was what she was doing. Sandy knew it. And from the look in Britt’s eyes, her friend knew it, too.
“Renee,” Britt said, “you run downstairs and tell the Murphys we’ll be down shortly.”
“But Mo-om...”
“No whining.”
Renee backed out of the room, never taking her big blue eyes off Sandy. “Hurry, okay?”
When the two women were alone, Sandy sank onto her narrow childhood bed and said, “Britt, what am I supposed to do now? You won�
��t believe what I heard at the bank yesterday. Somebody told one of the tellers it’s payback time for the Stirlings.”
“Payback time? What kind of nonsense is that?”
“It’s not nonsense. They said the Stirlings are going to get their revenge today for losing everything they owned. Oh, Britt, I’m never going to make it. I can’t go through with it.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
RENEE PRESSED HER EAR to the bedroom door and listened in horror.
The wedding wasn’t going to take place and it was all her fault. She had forgotten to bring her rabbit’s foot this morning and look what was happening.
Squeezing her eyes shut to hold back the tears, Renee stood frozen in the upstairs hallway and tried to figure out what to do. It was up to her to save the day. But how? What could a ten-year-old girl do?
Still not sure, she dashed down the stairs and out the door, jumping over puddles of melting ice all the way to the church. When she arrived, she had another shock. Drew hadn’t arrived at the church, either.
Everyone in town, it appeared to her as she looked around, was there but the bride and groom.
Renee stood in the back of the church, thinking frantically, aware that her hair bow had come untied and the curls her mom had brushed so carefully this morning straggled every which way. Her white socks were splattered with dirty melting snow. She was going to be in big trouble for making such a mess of herself. But none of that seemed to matter now.
All that mattered was making sure the wedding went on as planned. And she couldn’t think what to do.
The church door opened behind her and she whirled, hoping it would be Drew. Or maybe even, by some miracle, Sandy. But it wasn’t. It was only their grandparents, Mr. Stirling and Mrs. Murphy. The tears she had fought back earlier filled Renee’s eyes and started spilling over onto her cheeks.
“Why, sweetheart, whatever is the matter?” Mrs. Murphy lifted Renee’s chin and looked her directly in the eye. “You tell Mag what the problem is.”
“They’re not coming,” Renee said between sniffles, grateful that another grown-up now knew the awful truth. “Sandy already said she couldn’t go through with it and now Drew’s not here either and...I just know they’re not coming.”
Mr. Stirling and Mrs. Murphy looked at each other and frowned. Mrs. Murphy began straightening Renee’s mussed hair. “This calls for action, Clarence.”
“Now, Mag—”
“I know how my granddaughter feels about that grandson of yours. Can you say the same?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“And this whole ugly mess is our fault to begin with.”
Mr. Stirling studied Mrs. Murphy and finally began to nod. “I can’t deny that.”
“Then what are we going to do about it?”
Mr. Stirling looked down at Renee. “Young lady, I want you to run to the boardinghouse right now and tell my grandson...well, let him know that...”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Clarence,” Mrs. Murphy said impatiently. “Tell him his grandfather and I are getting into it. Tell him the old fool’s about to have a heart attack. Can you do that, child?”
Renee’s tears began to dry. “Yes, ma’am. But what about Sandy?”
“You tell her that her Gran is creating the ruckus of all ruckuses at the church and if she doesn’t get here soon she’ll never be able to hold her head up in this town again. Did you get that?”
Renee grinned broadly. “Yes, ma’am!”
* * *
DREW WAS STARING at himself in the mirror, trying to figure out how much like his grandfather he was going to look in fifty years and whether he was willing to have the same regrets his grandfather did. He had reached for the tie that went with his rented monkey suit when he heard the front door of the boardinghouse slam shut.
“I hope this means you’re coming to your senses,” Jake said, glancing at his watch. “You realize the wedding is supposed to start in less than—”
The door to Drew’s room burst open and a red-faced, panting Renee dashed in. “Drew! It’s your grandpa. He’s at the church and he’s having a heart attack and he said for you to come, right now!”
“Oh, God!”
Drew stuffed the tie in his pants’ pocket, snatched his jacket off the hanger on the back of his closet door and dashed out.
“Does this mean you’re going to make it to the church, after all?” Jake called, heading after him.
* * *
SANDY SAT ON her old bed, heedless of the fact that she was wrinkling the dress she had intended to be married in. Someone had called to let them know that Drew hadn’t arrived at the church.
Britt had promptly called the boardinghouse, but there was no answer. “See?” she said. “He’s on his way right now.”
“Yeah,” Sandy muttered. “On his way out of town.”
Britt looked at her watch. “Put your shoes on, Sandy. If we leave now, we’ll only be—”
The bedroom door was flung open, banging against the wall. Renee stood there, gasping for air, her hair flying.
“Young lady, what on earth—”
“It’s your grandma. She’s making a big...” Renee paused, screwed up her face. “A ruckus! That’s it. A big ruckus down at the church. And if you don’t come...they might have to...arrest her!”
Her mother looked skeptical. “Young lady, who told you that?”
“I was there. Cross my heart.” And the little girl made the solemn sign.
Sandy started slipping her feet into her running shoes. “She’s probably right, Britt. With Mr. Stirling there, there’s no telling what Mag might do.”
Britt grabbed one of the running shoes and handed Sandy an ivory-colored pump. “Why don’t you wear these? Just in case.”
Sandy looked skeptical. “But—”
“Wear the high heels, Sandy.”
She wore the high heels. And when she got downstairs, she went to the refrigerator where her bouquet was stored. “Just in case,” she said to Britt as they dashed out the door.
“A woman has to be prepared,” Britt said, smoothing out the wrinkles in the back of Sandy’s dress as they went.
The first person Sandy saw when she reached the church was Drew, standing in the vestibule and looking as flustered as she felt. He called her name the instant she called his.
“You’re here,” she said, noticing that he looked a little disheveled. His tie dribbled out of a pocket and his cuffs weren’t buttoned.
“Of course I’m here,” he said.
“But you weren’t. You changed your mind, didn’t you?”
“I didn’t change my mind. I—I tried to call you this morning and you weren’t there and...I got scared.”
“Me, too,” Sandy said in a whisper, suddenly realizing that almost everyone in the church had turned to watch. She smiled. “They got to us.”
He took her hand. “I guess they did.”
“Young man!” They both turned at Mag’s command. “Young man, I think it’s time you corrected the mistake your grandfather made.”
“Now, Mag, if you’ll recall, the truth of the matter is we were both left standing at the altar.”
Sandy exchanged a worried look with Drew.
“But I was left standing first,” Mag said.
“As a gentleman, I must concede.”
Mag slipped her hand through his arm. “A wise decision. Now, you two, do what we should have done fifty years ago. Quit worrying about what’s coming out of all those flapping jaws in this town and tie the knot.”
Drew looked troubled. “But Grandpa, your heart?”
Clarence squared his shoulders. “My heart has never been better, son. At least, not in fifty years. True love, Andrew. It’s the best medicine.” He glanced down at Mag,
whom Sandy would have sworn began to blush. “I hope you young people can see now what happens when you listen to unfounded rumor?”
Sandy saw him wink then, and she turned in the direction of his glance. Renee, struggling to smooth her hair, stood in the doorway grinning. Before Sandy could react, the dapper-looking elderly couple wheeled, walked down the aisle together and took seats near the front.
Sandy looked at Drew, saw the smile play over his lips as he watched their grandparents. She put a hand on his arm. “We’ve been tricked.”
“Or maybe we’ve just been taught a lesson,” he said, taking her hand in his.
“We don’t have to be manipulated into this, you know,” Sandy said, still wanting to be sure.
“I don’t feel manipulated. Do you?”
“No, it’s just...it’s not too late to back down.”
He kissed the tips of her fingers, and she felt the tenderness clear down to her toes. “How could I do that?” he murmured. “I’ve decided you’re right, after all. It is destiny.”
Sandy smiled now. “You always do come around just in time.”
“I may not be a genius, but I’m pretty darned smart.”
He kissed her lips then, a soft, slow kiss that nevertheless would have ruined her lipstick if she’d ever finished putting on her makeup. Then he said, “I love you, Sandy. I haven’t doubted that for a long time. But unless you feel the same—”
“And I love you, Drew. I can’t deny it’s a little scary. But Gran always told me to follow my heart—that the only thing that would get me in trouble was not doing so.”
“So what now?”
From the front of the church, the solemn tones of the wedding march began. Sandy grinned. “Gran always said give ’em something to talk about.”
They looked down at their disheveled attire and grinned. “I’m game,” Drew announced.
“Let’s march.”
* * *
AS THE TOWNSFOLK poured out of the church a half hour later and watched the newly wedded couple climb into the limo and head toward Timberlake Lodge, the stories were already starting.
Love and War Page 21
