by Abby Gaines
Nice work. Merry telegraphed the message with her eyes.
He gave her a smug look that said, What do you expect from a guy with a degree in Rocklike Calm?
“There’s no blood test in Connecticut,” Stephanie said, sounding confused. “No waiting time, either. Don’t you remember, Dwight, you rushed to get our license, thinking it would take forever? And it turned out you could just roll up, pick up a license and get married five minutes later.”
“That’s right,” Dwight said. “Lucas, where did you get your information?”
Oh, heck. Merry held her breath.
“It’s been a while since you and Stephanie tied the knot,” Lucas said. “Things have changed.”
Good, she congratulated him mentally. Good thinking.
To her horror, Dwight pulled out his iPhone.
“Let’s see,” he said. He typed surprisingly fast for an old guy typing with his thumbs on a virtual keyboard.
Dread pooled in Merry’s stomach. Let Lucas be right. Let the rules have changed.
“Ha,” Dwight said with a note of triumph that sent her hopes plummeting. “You’re right, darling.” Darling being Stephanie. “No waiting period in Connecticut and no blood test. You can apply for a license Monday to Friday between eight-thirty and four, and get married five minutes later.”
Lucas looked faintly green.
“Today’s Wednesday,” John said. “Isn’t it?”
Merry nodded.
“Well, then. Nothing to stop you.” Uh-oh, he was looking teary again. “To see my little girl get married…a man could die happy.”
“I—I don’t have a dress,” Merry blurted. As if that mattered.
“You can wear mine,” Stephanie said. “It’s not new, but it’s Vera Wang. Great design doesn’t date.”
Merry whimpered.
“Merry,” Lucas said calmly, “could I see you for a moment?”
In the hallway, he dragged her out of sight of her father’s glass-walled room. “You do realize you need to tell your dad that we’re not getting married?”
“Of course I do!” she hissed.
“Then stop talking about your damn dress, and get back in there and do it.”
Immediately, her hackles rose, the way they had since they were kids. “It’s not that easy. You’re the one who told him the blood test was all that stood in our way.”
“How was I to know there’s no blood test in Connecticut?”
Grouchy Nurse Martin walked by, eyeing them curiously.
Merry waited until she’d passed. “You’re the one who gave me an engagement ring—no wonder he thinks we want to get married.”
“I was trying to look convincing,” Lucas said.
“Where did it come from, anyway?”
“Jeweler friend,” he said. “Let’s get back on topic. Namely, telling your dad there won’t be a wedding.”
She closed her eyes. “How am I supposed to do that when he said he’ll die happy if I get married?”
“He’ll just have to die mildly content,” Lucas said.
Her eyes snapped open.
He swore. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that. You know I didn’t, or I wouldn’t have offered to get engaged in the first place.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “There must be a way to do this. Let’s think.”
Merry thought.
Presumably, he was doing the same.
“We can come back tomorrow and say we got married,” he said in a flash of inspiration. “We’ll tell them we went to city hall.”
“Dad said he wants to see me get married. I couldn’t do that to him.”
“You won’t be doing it to him. You’ll be pretending to. In the end, he’ll just be relieved we’re married.”
“What if he wants to see the marriage certificate?” She could imagine her sentimental father wanting to admire the document.
“We’ll say we lost it.”
She rolled her eyes.
“You think of something, then,” he ordered.
Silence fell again.
Lucas had the next idea, too. “We could pay someone—an actor—to be a fake celebrant.”
It was a tempting possibility. But…
“Dad will want Reverend Carter from our church to do it,” Merry said glumly. “And I can’t just say he’s not available—Reverend Carter’s coming to visit him this afternoon. Plus we’d still have the marriage certificate problem.”
More thinking.
“There’s only one possibility,” Merry said at last.
“Fire away.”
“We really get married,” she said. “Right here, in front of Dad. And then we get a divorce.”
“Are you nuts?” His voice rose, and the security guard stationed by the elevator looked in their direction.
Merry spoke quickly, quietly. “My friend Sarah got divorced last year, and it’s almost as easy as getting married. From what I remember, we can file for a no-fault divorce on grounds of irretrievable breakdown of the marriage as soon as we like. The day after the wedding. Ninety days later, we’re divorced.”
“No,” he said firmly.
“Divorce isn’t ideal,” she agreed, as if the only problem with getting married would be how to end it. “It means we both end up, well, divorced. We could look into annulment.”
“No,” he said again.
“You were willing to give Dad a kidney,” she reminded him.
“A lot less complicated,” Lucas said.
He was right. But Merry was desperate. “This is your big chance to rescue me. You love to rescue.”
“You hate being rescued. You refuse to be rescued.”
“Not this time,” she promised. “Do you remember when you were ten years old, telling Dad and Dwight you wanted to marry me?”
He blinked, then shook his head, as if shaking off that moment of weakness. “Yeah, and the next day you peed your pants and I changed my mind.”
The heat in her cheeks told her she was blushing. “So I had the occasional ‘accident.’ Shoot me. Look, Lucas, Dad wants us to get married, and right now allowing him to die in peace is number one on my list. Are you going to marry me or not?”
“Not.” He folded his arms across his chest and stared her down.
Merry spun on her heel and marched back into her father’s room, Lucas right behind her. She narrowly missed crashing into Nurse Martin, also on her way in again.
Her father gave her an anxious, hopeful look.
Merry beamed. “Great news, Dad. We’re getting married tomorrow.”
CHAPTER SIX
MERRY TUGGED AT THE BODICE of her blue dress, her backup option in case Stephanie’s bridal gown didn’t fit. This was a bridesmaid dress; it had looked fine, though far from lovely, when she’d worn it two years ago as maid of honor for what turned out to be Sarah’s short-term marriage. Now the sleeves looked ridiculously poufy. Every time she moved, the taffeta seemed to rustle accusingly.
At least the pale blue matched her complexion.
Merry rubbed her cheeks briskly with her palms, watching the effect in her bedroom mirror. She looked as if she were headed to an execution, not a wedding.
There was every chance this wedding would be followed by an execution, she thought grimly. Lucas had been so mad when she’d announced they were getting married, he’d been white with fury. She shivered at the mere recollection. But he’d been too nice, too heroic, to wipe the joy from her father’s face. As she’d known he would be.
This is the lowest thing I’ve ever done in my life.
But for the best of reasons.
And Lucas really would be free and clear of her, and their marriage, after ninety days. No lasting scars.
Which was more than she could say for that night in Baltimore, which still left her mortified six months later. Really, Lucas had it easy.
She was having trouble convincing herself of that, so it was a relief when the buzzer to her apartment sounded. She glanced at her watch. Ten-thirty; Stephanie was r
ight on time.
One hour until the wedding.
Merry pressed the buzzer to open the street door. Her apartment was above a bowling alley, the only location where she could afford loft-style, the rent being low due to the constant rumble of bowling balls beneath her feet from 11:00 a.m. to 10:00 p.m.
Stephanie maneuvered her way inside, hampered by a large, flattish carton with a small wooden chest perched on top. “I brought my sewing kit so we can make any needed adjustments.” She eyed the toast crumbs on Merry’s kitchen counter with misgiving and headed to the coffee table to set down the carton and the chest. “Merry, as your matron of honor, it’s my duty to tell you that the blue dress isn’t good.”
“It’s not that bad. And this isn’t a white satin kind of wedding.” Merry had asked Stephanie to be matron of honor on the basis that the fewer people who knew about this, the better. Though she would have asked her best friend, Sarah, if Sarah hadn’t been on vacation in Mexico. Thankfully, the need for haste meant everyone readily agreed on a small celebration.
“It’s still your wedding,” Stephanie said. “Merry, I know that in the next few days you’ll lose your dad, and the prospect of happiness seems distant, if not impossible. This isn’t how anyone would choose to start married life.” She worked the tight-fitting lid off the carton. “But at some stage you might want to look back on this day and find some reasons to smile.” She lifted a dress from the box and carefully shook it out.
A confection of white silk. Stunning.
“Uh, Stephanie…” Lucas would freak out if Merry showed up in this. That is, if he even showed up himself.
“Our sizes aren’t that different,” Stephanie said. “And your father would love to see you looking like a bride.” She began undoing the tiny pearl buttons at the back of the dress. “Merry, there’s another reason this dress seems right for you. My marriage to Dwight started in less than ideal circumstances, with our wedding so soon after Michelle died. But we loved each other, and we did eventually get it right. That’s what I hope you and Lucas might do—preferably a bit faster than we did.” She blinked rapidly, her smile tremulous.
“You know this wedding was Dad’s idea,” Merry said. She didn’t want Stephanie investing a whole lot of emotion in today, when by the end of the week it would prove wasted.
“Yes, but I know how much Lucas cares for you. You need to give your marriage every chance,” Stephanie insisted. “The dress is one small way in which you can do it right. Now, are going to step out of that blue puffball or do I have to tear it off you?”
Merry gave up and unzipped the blue dress.
Two minutes later, she was standing in front of the mirror in the Vera Wang gown, while Stephanie pinned the hem.
“This is an amazing dress,” Merry admitted. “It must have cost a fortune.”
“I didn’t want to look back on my photos and cringe in years to come,” Stephanie said. “You pay a lot for timeless quality.”
She was right; the fitted bodice, with long, off-the-shoulder sleeves, and the stiff A-line skirt that flared out from her hips looked as contemporary now as they must have when Stephanie married.
“Your bust is bigger than mine.” Merry touched the too-loose front of the dress.
“That’s the biggest challenge,” Stephanie agreed. “But I have a solution.”
“Of course you do,” she muttered.
The solution turned out to be a band of white silk that matched the dress. Stephanie wrapped it around Merry’s torso, pulling in the excess fabric. “That’ll work when I’ve tacked it into place,” she said.
Merry took off the dress and waited while Stephanie put in just enough stitches to make everything fit for the duration of the ceremony.
When it was ready, Merry slipped the dress back on and stepped into her sandals. Not the usual footwear for a late-October wedding, but her dad had asked that, rather than get married at his bedside, they do it on the beach. Alongside his beloved ocean.
“It’ll be the last time I see the sea,” he’d said.
Dr. Randall had given her permission; an hour away from monitoring would make little difference. So how could Merry refuse?
“You look gorgeous,” Stephanie said. “Just one more thing.” She began unwrapping some tissue paper that Merry had assumed was filler for the excess space in the dress box.
Like a conjurer, Stephanie produced a veil, seemingly out of nowhere. A cloud of tulle that, when she fixed it in Merry’s hair, transformed the dress from beautiful to spectacular.
“Perfect.” She smiled at Merry in the mirror, then glanced at her watch. “We need to go. I brought Dwight’s Hummer, since it has lots of room. If we push the passenger seat back, you won’t get rumpled.”
“Let me just put Boo out on the balcony,” Merry said.
“I’ll do it—he might slobber on your dress. Come on, boy.” Stephanie clapped her hands, and Boo rose from his mat in the corner.
Ten minutes later, they pulled up at the oceanside a block from the hospital. Not the prettiest beach around, but it was better not to go too far in case something went wrong. A small group waited on the sand: Merry’s father in a wheelchair, wearing his only suit. The suit he’d be buried in. Merry swallowed and moved on to the other participants in this unlikely event. Nurse Martin stood to one side, in a lilac tunic today, her expression as severe as ever. Reverend Carter, the priest from her dad’s church, Saint Thomas’s Episcopalian, wore a suit with his dog collar.
Dwight, the best man, was holding Mia, which didn’t detract from his military bearing. Then…the groom. Lucas stood next to his father. Both men were in uniform.
Merry lifted her skirt so it wouldn’t trail in the sand. “They’re wearing swords.” Maybe Lucas would stab her instead of shoot her when this was all over.
“A sword is part of the service dress blues for officers,” Stephanie said. “They look amazing, don’t they?”
The swords or the men? Lucas’s dark blue jacket emphasized the breadth of his shoulders; the medals on his chest gleamed in the sunlight. He took off his hat as they approached, and the breeze ruffled his dark hair. He looked like a movie hero.
Then Merry saw tears in her father’s eyes, and she forgot about Lucas.
“Hi, Dad.” She bent to kiss him.
“Merry-Berry, you look…” He shook his head.
She was glad she’d worn the dress.
“You look like Sally,” John croaked.
Sally was her mother. Merry felt the prickle of tears in her own eyes as she gripped her dad’s shoulder.
Under the weight of Lucas’s stare, she lifted her gaze. “Hi,” she said.
“Hi.”
There was a silence while everyone waited for him to say more. He didn’t. Merry was just grateful he was here. As long as he went through with the ceremony, she didn’t care if he ever spoke to her again.
“She looks beautiful,” Dwight said as he handed Mia over to Stephanie. “You do, Merry.”
“Uh, thanks.” She still wasn’t used to the new, softer Dwight. Self-conscious, she rubbed her palms down her skirt. Lucas didn’t pass comment on her beauty. She wondered if everyone noticed how disconnected she and Lucas were from each other. Hopefully, they’d put it down to nerves.
“Shall we get started?” Reverend Carter said.
The words of the wedding service swirled around Merry on the sea breeze. As the reverend moved on to the vows, the cry of a gull sounded like a warning overhead.
“For richer for poorer…in sickness and health…”
Merry tried not to think about her intention to immediately break the promise she would make today. It’s for Dad.
She realized everyone was waiting; the question had been for her.
“I do,” she said. Or should that be I will?
She focused harder as the celebrant asked Lucas for the same commitment, as though her willpower could force Lucas to give the right answer.
“I do,” he said, and her should
ers relaxed slightly.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” Reverend Carter said. Merry had asked him to leave out the part about kissing the bride.
“You may kiss the bride.” Ugh, that came from her dad. Romantic to the last.
Merry dared a glance at Lucas, the first time she’d met his eyes since the ceremony started. Cool distance. Was that better than anger?
Please kiss me.
She lifted her face, closed her eyes. An act of faith. Faith that he was the guy she’d known, from boy to man. Bossy, infuriating, even arrogant. But not someone who would let her down.
She felt the whisper of a breath, then firm lips pressed to hers. Thank you. Lucas smelled of soap and spice and salt air. For that fraction of a second, she was warm, despite the brisk northerly wind coming down from the hills behind them.
Then he pulled back. Merry’s focus cleared from the odd haze in front of her eyes—must be sea spray—and she saw her father beaming from ear to ear.
That’s why we’re doing it. We’re giving Dad peace of mind. It was all worthwhile.
Stephanie snapped a few photos. Now that the ceremony was over, Merry’s father looked suddenly smaller and grayer.
“Time we got you back to the hospital, Mr. Wyatt,” Nurse Martin said briskly.
Merry wondered how she’d managed to push the wheelchair down the beach. Then Lucas lifted her father out of the chair, which the nurse tilted and easily dragged over the sand. Question answered. Lucas carried her dad as if he weighed no more than his navy kit bag. On the promenade, he settled John back into the chair.
“We’ve ordered a cake,” Dwight announced. “It’s waiting for us in the hospital cafeteria. Not the fanciest venue, but they’ve promised us a quiet corner.”
This wasn’t over yet.
“Lovely,” Merry said.
“Nurse Martin helped us smuggle in some champagne,” Dwight added.
Really? Merry opened her mouth to thank her, but the woman’s scowl stopped her.
In the cafeteria, they attracted plenty of stares from staff and customers. This whole day had been so weird, Merry didn’t care. She drank her champagne quickly and accepted a top-up. When her dad couldn’t manage more than a sip of his, and offered the rest to her, she polished that off, as well.
