Marrying the Wedding Crasher

by Melinda Curtis

  Harley bent for a closer look. She’d thought Vince’s scribbles would be as unproductive as a starburst cable design, blocking everyone’s view. But the way he’d positioned the cables allowed for the curved box seats to be at different heights, clearing the view of the stage.

  “This could work.” Out of habit, she raised her eyes upward. Instead of sky, she stared at the ceiling above. Almost in the same spot Vince had been looking at yesterday. The side wall. He’d mumbled something about a balcony. But his design...with a few properly placed thin lines...made a balcony possible. She and Dan had talked about suspension as a possibility, but he’d drawn straight predictably placed cables. Vince knew Harley favored unpredictable lines.

  How had he known? She thought of the answer as soon as she thought of the question. The train track. It’d been right there in front of Harley but she’d been looking skyward. She hugged her sketchpad, wanting to hug Vince.

  Rose’s balconies were going to be beautiful. And like Brit’s mermaid art display, it would be unique enough to attract visitors.

  Vince had left her a gift. She’d much rather have had him sitting next to her explaining it. She’d much rather have been hugging him. But having a solution was better than him fixing her tile saw. With this, she could get her job back with Dan.

  And, oh, ugh, no. She didn’t want that job back.

  But she had leverage to break her contract. She could move back to Birmingham and get a job with an architectural firm near her parents. For the first time since Vince had walked out, Harley felt all wasn’t lost.

  She took a picture of the balcony drawing with her phone and sent it to Dan.

  An old truck and a golf cart pulled up across the street. Joe and Brit got out of the truck. Gabe and Sam got out of the golf cart.

  “I hope Harley’s all right.” Brit shaded her eyes to peer in through the glass at the former locksmith shop. “Your brother is a jerk.”

  “A total turd.” Sam wore baggy blue coveralls and dragged her booted feet onto the sidewalk. Her brown hair was dull and limp, as if she’d slept poorly. “He’s my least favorite uncle.”

  “Then things are as they should be, munchkin.” Gabe slung his arm over Sam’s small shoulders. “We’ve disowned him.”

  No. Harley dropped her sketchpad. Her pencil clattered nearby. Vince needed his family or he’d truly be alone.

  “We’re putting Harley and the baby in Vince’s place,” Joe confirmed, staring across the street to where Harley was. He wore his work uniform: navy slacks and a blue-gray button-down with his name stitched on the pocket. True to Messina male form, his hair wasn’t dull or limp. It was a beautiful, shaggy work of art. “There she is.”

  The Messinas descended upon Harley in a wave of Vince-fueled disgust.

  “Forget Vince. He’s a deadbeat. Always had been.” Joe didn’t waste any time disparaging his brother. “We think you should move to Harmony Valley.”

  “I’ll make sure your kid shows up to school every day.” Gabe sat next to Harley on the floor, stretching out his jeans-clad long legs. He wore a dingy white T-shirt and too much musky cologne. “By the time your kid is ready for school, I’ll be retired.”

  “Our house will be finished in a few weeks.” Brit was dressed for work at the beauty parlor in a pink polka-dot slim skirt and a white lace blouse. Her smile was strained and there were bags under her eyes that matched Harley’s. “You can move in above the garage.”

  “I can babysit,” Sam said.

  Harley’s stomach did a slow barrel roll. She’d lost one Messina and picked up four. Much as she appreciated their support, what she wouldn’t give to have her original Messina back.

  “That’s a very generous offer but...” Harley opened her sketchbook and stared at the lines Vince had drawn. It was just like him to do something good and leave without taking credit. “You can’t just excommunicate him.”

  “We can.” Joe drew Sam into a hug, tucking her face into his chest as if she needed protection.

  “You’d do that? After all he did for you?” Anger thrummed in her veins. “He wanted to go to college. Instead your parents used him to keep a roof over your heads. And you wonder why he developed a fear of mental illness, while you didn’t.”

  Brit glanced from one brother to another, seeking answers that weren’t forthcoming.

  “I refuse to feel guilty.” Gabe stood and backed away, looking displeased with Harley. “I’m thinking about what he said to Sam and what he said to you.”

  “He drove our mother away. Literally,” Joe said. “There were a couple of months there where we had to deal with Dad by ourselves.”

  “Before your uncle came and let you run free? Without much discipline?” Harley tossed her braid over her shoulder just as she’d tossed Joe’s protests aside. Vince’s brothers didn’t contradict her. “I bet Vince still worked more hours in the garage than you did.”

  “Regardless,” Joe said gruffly, not quite meeting her eyes. “Our offer stands.” He left, followed by Sam and Gabe.

  “Why are you sticking up for Vince?” Brit had tears in her eyes. “He left you.”

  “Other than the fact that I love him?” Harley’s hand drifted to her abdomen. “Because he’s always sticking his neck out for someone else and no one ever does the same for him.”

  “I... Joe...” Brit considered her words before speaking again. “Are you staying for the wedding?”

  Harley sighed. She had to stay in town until her flight on Sunday. She couldn’t afford the exorbitant change fee. “If you don’t think my being there will ruin the day for Joe.”

  “Of course not. Just... Vince can’t come. Joe is adamant about that.”

  “Vince left yesterday.” The words clogged her throat. “I’m not sure where he went.”

  Brit bent down and hugged her quickly. “He’ll be back.”

  Harley lifted her gaze to the point at the top of the wall where Rose’s balconies would go. Vince had done all he could for Harley. He wasn’t going to return.

  Gabe drove off in the golf cart with Sam. Joe backed out, calling for Brit.

  “Vince loves you,” Brit reassured Harley. “I could tell from the first. It was in his eyes.”

  His googly eyes. Which had all been an act for a family that didn’t appreciate what he’d done for them.

  Harley reached for her sketchpad. She wouldn’t take Vince’s sacrifice for granted. She’d make him proud.

  If she ever saw him again.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  VINCE PARKED IN front of a brick home in Sugar Land, Texas.

  It was one of the grander houses on the block. Jerry could afford all the trimmings. It was a far cry from the small ranch-style home in Harmony Valley. Of all the men his mother had dated in the last decade, Jerry was the most successful.

  Vince’s mother had gone to work for Jerry as a temporary bookkeeper while Jerry’s permanent employee was on maternity leave. When her stint there was over, they’d begun dating. And a few months after that, Vince’s mother had moved in. That’s when Vince had noticed an opening at Jerry’s company and applied for a job.

  Vince had driven to the airport and flown home the day he’d told Joe and Gabe about the past. His brothers thought he’d done the wrong thing with regard to his mother. Vince had to find out if Mom felt the same.

  And so he’d put on his best pair of slacks and a new blue polo shirt, and showed up at his mother’s door. Along the way, he’d glanced at the Houston skyline and thought of Harley and of a child he couldn’t raise, for their sake, not his. He hoped Harley would find his scribbles. He hoped those few hurried lines would help inspire her to find a solution for the elegant curving balconies and return to the profession she loved. He’d send her child support and she’d find another man to love their baby like it was his own. Vince vowed to stay away, even if he had to move
far away to do so.

  The Texas heat had turned the grass a brownish green. But the lawn was neatly mowed and the walk clear, edged with white rosebushes. There was a bass boat on a trailer in Jerry’s driveway next to his dually truck. A large silver SUV sat next to it with a license plate frame that read Proud Soccer Mom. That had to be Jerry’s daughter’s vehicle.

  Vince reached the front porch and knocked on the door.

  Jerry opened it. He had the sun-bleached blond hair and tanned leathery skin of a man who lived his life working and playing outside. The sound of a child’s squeals and water splashing drifted from within. Jerry had grandkids. Five soccer-playing prodigies.

  “Vince, what are you doing here?” Jerry looked perplexed but opened the door, ushering him inside. He was a good man and a fair boss, if a little cheap when it came to purchasing new equipment.

  “Is Gwen home?” Vince’s mother’s name felt awkward on his tongue. He couldn’t pretend any more about their relationship and didn’t care if Jerry fired him. “I need to talk to my mom.”

  “Vince?”

  Jerry’s house was open concept. A sunken living room led to a formal dining room and then to a kitchen. The walls facing the backyard were floor-to-ceiling windows. A large blue pool sparkled out back.

  Vince’s mother stood at the kitchen counter in front of a blender. Her straight, dark brown hair was pulled back from her tanned face. She wore Texas makeup, which was always a tad heavy for Vince’s taste, and a green-and-white sundress. But all in all, she looked well-preserved for fifty-eight and a hundred percent better than the last time he’d seen her in person.

  “Vince?” She didn’t rush forward to hug him close or kiss his cheek or take his hands and thank him for setting her free.

  There was his answer. Vince crossed his arms over his chest. He’d made a mistake coming here now, not to mention letting her leave all those years ago. It’d cost him two brothers. “Mom.”

  His mother’s hands hovered above the blender, as if she’d forgotten what to do next. She wore wide silver bracelets on both wrists. “How did you—?”

  “It’s hard for anyone to stay hidden nowadays.” Vince’s words seemed to echo across the cavernous distance between them.

  Out back, blond kids in brightly colored swimsuits bobbed in the water on noodles. If that had been the Messina boys, they’d be using those noodles like swords.

  “Do you know this man, honey?” Despite being a good guy, Jerry was a little slow to catch on. He moved to stand between Vince and his mother, which earned him points in Vince’s book. “He works for me.”

  “I should be going.” Vince half turned toward the door.

  “You’ll do no such thing. Come inside.” His mother charged across the living space to reach him. Only when she reached the hardwood foyer did she slow to a screeching barefoot stop. “Jerry...honey...” She didn’t take her eyes off Vince. “This is one of my boys. Did you say he works for you?”

  “Not for long.” Jerry wasn’t as tall as Vince, but he managed to look down his nose at him anyway. “He’s got some explaining to do.”

  “Let me talk to him first.” She whispered something to Jerry that Vince didn’t hear, kissed his cheek, and then led Vince to a small office at the back of the house that overlooked the large swimming pool.

  The pool was one of those spectacles that cost as much as a small house. Miles of rock waterfalls. A slide and grotto. Hot tub. Sunken bar and poolside grill.

  Jerry joined his grandkids outside, sitting near enough that he could hear Gwen cry for help and come running if need be.

  Instead of sitting behind the desk, Vince’s mother sat in a pink club chair and indicated Vince should sit opposite her in a matching one. The house smelled fresh. No one smoked here. On the credenza behind the desk, there were pictures of her and Jerry, along with pictures of blond kids hugging her while they clustered around a birthday cake.

  She seemed to be taking an inventory of Vince’s features, looking happy if not exactly smiling. “You’re so handsome. There was always the promise of it when you were younger.”

  He hadn’t come to exchange pleasantries about his appearance or hers.

  But it wasn’t all pleasantries. She held on to the arms of the chair with white knuckles. “You look...”

  Vince expected her to say good.

  “...like you’ve had a hard time lately.”

  “Lately? I had a hard time after you left. We all did.” Why sugarcoat his reason for coming?

  Tears welled in her eyes. Her fingers dug into fabric. “I’m sorry.” And that was all she said.

  Vince couldn’t handle all this civility. Anger burst past the shock of seeing her. “Did you ever look back? Did you ever think of us?”

  “Sure, I did. I called once. I talked to Turo.”

  “Once.” She’d known where her children were, just as Vince had known where she was. And she’d only reached out once? They were even.

  “I...I had to get counselling after I left you.”

  A child squealed happily behind her, but her focus remained on him.

  “What made you decide to change your name and start a new life?”

  “Self-preservation. I took back my maiden name after your father died.” She was so calm, as if she’d rehearsed this conversation many times before.

  Vince had rehearsed it, too, but it wasn’t going at all to plan. He’d expected her to be defensive and twitchy, the way she’d been when he’d last seen her face-to-face. He’d imagined he’d be superior, accusing her of abandonment. Or the benevolent son, forgiving his weak, lost mother. She may have left Harmony Valley lost and defeated, but she’d found herself.

  “I loved your father.” Her smile was tender. “I met him when I was waitressing in San Antonio, attending college and trying to figure out what to do with my life.” Her gaze drifted to the credenza. Tucked behind the recent, more colorful pictures was a small, faded, family photo of the Messinas. “Tony was in the Air Force and swept me off my feet. And then Gabe came along...”

  “And the rest is history.”

  “You’re angry.” She frowned, the tanned wrinkles making her look ten years older. “And you should be. I took a vow and broke it. I wasn’t strong enough to commit my husband so he could get the help he needed.” But she’d been strong enough to leave her babies behind and seek solace for herself. “You know, your father never gave me permission to access his medical records. I couldn’t refill his prescriptions. His psychiatrist wouldn’t talk to me about his condition.” Her words rose higher and higher, until they bounced off the ceiling and echoed around them. “I was supposed to be Tony’s support system, but he wouldn’t let me support him!”

  “So you had me do it.” There was the bitterness he’d harbored for years, out in the open where it belonged.

  “You were the only one he’d let help in the garage.” She squeezed the armrests. “You kept us going.”

  “I was a kid. You were supposed to protect me.” Admitting it made him feel small.

  A cascade of giggles erupted outside. Jerry held one of his smaller grandkids above the water and was blowing raspberries on the boy’s belly.

  Vince straightened in his chair, his shoulders as stiff as green wood. He couldn’t remember being given such unabashed affection, but he bet Harley would be generous in lavishing it on their child.

  Mom glanced over her shoulder, but didn’t smile. “You think you were denied a childhood like that?”

  Vince was having trouble filling his lungs with air. He could only nod.

  “Maybe you were too young to remember going to the fair. You ate cotton candy and it got all over you. Gabe tried to eat it out of your hair.” Her blue eyes warmed. “Or the time I took you three boys for pony rides at a ranch in Cloverdale. Gabe wanted the biggest pony, only when he got on, it would only walk forw
ard if I held a carrot in front of its nose. You wanted to ride a pony with Joe sitting in front of you. You hugged him so tight, he nearly squirmed right off the pony.” Her voice softened. “And there was the time your father made me try to bowl for the Pumpkin Queen Crown in Harmony Valley, except I missed all the pins. You three boys ran over and knocked them all down.” Her eyes filled with tears. Their boyish antics had meant something to her.

  “I wish I could recall those happy times.” He kept his voice carefully neutral. He didn’t want to like her and he hadn’t planned on forgiving her. He’d only come for answers. And maybe selfishly to vent some of his frustrations to her about the man he was today because of her choices. “I remember Dad’s mood swings and the chain smoking and some of your last words to me.”

  Mom leaned forward, tilting her head slightly, encouraging him to share.

  Didn’t she remember? Did he really have to say it out loud?

  “You said I was just like Dad.” All neutrality slipped away. His words felt heavy and hard, like an overinflated radial tire barreling toward a target. “You told me there was no hope for me.”

  She sat back as if slapped. “I wasn’t well.”

  “Apparently no adult in the household was.” It was time to go. He’d spoken his piece. She hadn’t apologized or refuted her words. He slid his feet back, preparing to stand.

  “Vince.” She reached over and clasped his hand, not hesitantly or lightly, but with the familiarity of a mother who cared. “Forget what I said. Take a good look at the man you’ve become. Other than looking exhausted, you seem well balanced, healthy, okay.”

  Vince blew out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. “For now, you mean.”

  Her brow furrowed. “You don’t think you’ll develop a mental illness, do you? It seems far too late. Your father was diagnosed in his teens.”

  No one had told Vince that. “But...”

  “He self-managed his mood swings for many years. It wasn’t until Joe was born that he needed meds. And only because I begged him. Taking medicine ate at his pride.” She wiped a tear from one eye. “If it hasn’t happened to you by now, it most likely won’t. You shouldn’t live in fear.”