“So,” I ask Stephen, “How many people do you know here?”
“Only Roger, Celine, Ann and Brett. Unless there are some more people from the church, but I’m not sure if they invited everyone with this being such a small space.”
We step off the driveway into the street, Phoebe grasping my hand like she’ll never let go, Stephen very close to me on my right side.
“There’s Barb and Randy from church,” Stephen says.
Oh goody, people he knows. Now that feeling of being alone in the crowd hovers at the edge of my precipice. But I do have Phoebe. She didn’t bring her cane, so she needs to stick with me.
I’m thrilled to be her guide.
I refuse to admit it is a bit of a comfort knowing I won’t be left alone here, even if my constant companion is only seven years old.
My other bright spot for the evening is seeing Ann in my dress. I know she is going to look gorgeous, and I’m thrilled that she thought the dress I designed would be perfect for her special day.
We make small talk, acting like we are a normal happy couple. A few remarks about our wedding have been made by the people that were at church, and we are very noncommittal in responding.
Everyone starts sitting, and we find a spot about halfway back on the groom’s side. There are only about thirty people or so in attendance. This is so different from the lavish weddings I’ve attended in New York. Some of my friends spent tens of thousands of dollars on their weddings. Dollars they’ll never recoup.
I’m starting to see the benefit of the small ceremony. This setting is nice, the weather is cooperative and the whole event has an intimate feel to it, even though I’m not connected to it in that way.
The flutist’s music is a bit louder now that everyone has sat down and stopped their conversation. After Roger, Brett and a guy who must be the best man, although he looks really young, stand under the arbor, Celine stands next to the flutist. She sings a song I’ve never heard, her voice a beautiful sound for this warm, winter evening.
When Celine finishes, she sits in a seat on the front row, and the flutist switches songs. Stace slowly walks up the aisle in a tea length red dress that hugs her in all the right places. She’s so beautiful, but I know Ann will be even more so.
As the melody of the wedding march floats through the air, a woman, whom I’m assuming is the mother of the bride, stands, then we all follow suit. Ann walks down the aisle, escorted by a man who I know isn’t her father, because he’s no longer living. Probably her step-father. No doubt I will meet all these people at the reception.
My dress looks like it was made for Ann. It floats. It shimmers. It shows off her great body. I hear a couple of soft comments about the beautiful dress.
As the gentleman kisses Ann on the cheek and gives her to Brett a scream pierces through the air.
Then another.
As I look to the left, in the direction of the scream, I see a little girl, probably a couple of years older than Phoebe, running in the cul-de-sac. Seconds later, another little girl, who looks a lot like the first girl, is running behind her. When the second girl catches up, she grabs the first girl’s long dark hair, which mirrors her own, and pulls.
Another high-pitched scream escapes the first girl. Then she pushes the second girl down, which leads to a loud yell and threats of telling dad.
One of the ladies I recognize from the church, I think it’s Barb, runs out to the girls. Barb has her index finger over her lips in the universal be quiet sign, but the girls don’t seem to care.
“What’s going on?” Phoebe whispers.
I lean over to whisper back. “A couple of girls, I think they’re twins, are having an argument in the cul-de-sac.”
“They are loud,” Phoebe says.
“Yes. Someone has gone out there to try and rein them in.”
“Excuse me.” Stephen passes in front of Phoebe and me.
Everyone’s attention is now on the cul-de-sac.
After a moment, I see why Stephen left his seat. A dark-haired man, wearing dress clothes is sauntering down his driveway. Must be Stephen’s neighbor. The guy whose wife died.
He doesn’t seem to be in a hurry. Of course, he probably doesn’t know there is a wedding going on.
Way to run interference, Stephen. Nice.
Barb is trying her best to calm the girls, but they are in a total cat fight. Bedlam ensues as they continually grab for each other, their voices shouting and screaming.
I can tell the second Stephen’s explanation registers with the man, who I’m assuming is their father. He quickly shakes Stephen’s hand, before rescuing Barb. The man quietly talks to the girls, who with tear-streaked faces look at the crowd. They are hiccupping and wiping their eyes as Barb and Stephen return to their seats. The man takes their hands and the three of them walk to their house.
I can see from here the matted mess both the girl’s hair has become as a result of their fighting. Dad is going to have a hard time brushing that out tonight.
While the girls look to be a little older than Phoebe, their disposition appears to be younger.
Of course Phoebe doesn’t have anyone to fight with at our house.
“Mr. Stephen’s back,” Phoebe whispers. “Are the girls gone?”
“Yes,” I answer.
“That was a bit of excitement to start your wedding, wasn’t it?” Roger says to Ann and Brett.
Everyone laughs.
Roger tells us all we can be seated.
As I sit I can’t stop thinking about the girls and how out-of-control they were.
Maybe because it’s a reminder of my life right now.
BOMBSHELL
THE REST OF THE wedding continues without any screaming interruptions. No more kids running in the cul-de-sac.
How ironic that they picked this time to have a fight.
Thinking of the incident keeps my mind from focusing too much on the wedding itself. A part of me wants to imagine Stephen and I exchanging vows. The other part of me, the one that knows that won’t happen, saddens. When Brett jumps the gun on kissing the bride, I can see Stephen doing the same.
And I wouldn’t care at all.
The few of us that aren’t family and aren’t a part of the bridal party head to the reception which is being held in the house Ann inherited. I guess it’s Ann and Brett’s house now.
The house is beautiful and has a great view of the bay. A view that Stephen’s house doesn’t have. There is a path to the water, though. I wonder why he doesn’t clear some trees in exchange for a view?
Phoebe, Stephen and I give off the perfect little family vibe as we meet and chat with people. The huge living area has several doors that open to a veranda. All the doors are opened, a nice breeze is blowing as dusk starts its descent, and the flutist has now moved in here. She’s joined by a couple of other musicians, and the music is festive.
Poinsettias give a punch of color to the room.
This house is much bigger than Stephen’s. But I like Stephen’s house. I like it’s comfy, cozy feeling I’ve learned to appreciate.
I’m surprised that I like that, but I do.
Two women carrying trays offer the guests hors d’ouevres and champagne. Neither of which Phoebe will want or can have.
Stephen, Phoebe and I have separated ourselves slightly from the crowd in a corner of the veranda.
“Here.” Stephen guides Phoebe to a chair.
She sits and he hands her a glass of punch which he procured from one of the tray carrying women.
“Thank you,” she says.
“You’re welcome.”
A quiet hum of voices carry on the wind from the living area. The night hasn’t cooled down yet, and I’m enjoying these warm temperatures. “At some point tonight one of us needs to go back to the house and bring over our gift and cards,” I say, spotting the gift table.
“I’ll go in a little while,” Stephen says. “Are you sure you don’t want a glass of champagne or something to drink
? I can get you some punch.”
“No, thanks, though. So, what did you say to the guy who lives next door to you when you met him in the cul-de-sac? I guess he was clueless about the wedding taking place.”
“Yeah. He had no idea. When I told him he apologized. He told me to make sure I tell the bride and groom he was sorry. I told him he could tell them himself at church on Sunday.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Really? Do you think he’ll come?”
Stephen shrugs. “He didn’t commit if that’s what you mean. I think he mumbled the word maybe. He might have been too concerned about breaking up his girls so the wedding could continue.”
“Somebody needs to take control of those kids. Didn’t you say his wife died?” I touch the tip of one of the red roses in the centerpiece.
“Yes. He looked tired. Worn out. His name is Court Treyhune.”
“Treyhune? That sounds familiar.”
“Racing family. His father is Cal Treyhune.”
“Okay. I know that name. He does a lot of commercials.”
“I guess. Not too many televisions in the wilderness.”
I laugh. “Probably not.”
We sit in silence for a few minutes, the sounds of music and conversation filling the air.
I notice a few of the family members arriving. Then the musicians stop playing. Momentarily, Ann and Brett are announced.
The party has begun.
As soon as the bride and groom enter the room, the musicians start up a little louder than before and a lot more festive. I don’t see a dance floor, but the music creates a nice atmosphere.
“I wish I could play with those little girls. Maybe they wouldn’t fight,” Phoebe says. “It would be more fun than sitting here.”
I’m surprised by Phoebe’s complaint. I haven’t seen this side of her. Although I know where she’s coming from. It must be pretty boring when you’re the only kid at the wedding. She can’t even see and appreciate the pretty dresses and decorations like I can to distract myself from the awkward feeling of wondering why you are even here.
Her little legs kick at the air as she sits in her chair.
“We won’t stay long, Pheebes,” I assure her.
“We’re going to say hello to Ann and Brett,” Stephen says to her. “Do you want to come along?”
“No,” Phoebe says. “I wanna sit here and drink my punch.”
I want to stay here with Phoebe, but apparently I don’t have a choice. Stephen takes my hand in a couple-like gesture, and we make our way to the bride and groom.
As we approach, Ann sees us. She smiles and motions to a woman standing close to her. “Mom, here she is, Jenny Harris. She designed this dress. Jenny, this is my mom, Trixie Diaz.”
A beautiful woman with short red hair clasps my hands with hers. “The dress is absolutely stunning. The perfect dress for Ann. I was blown away when I saw her today. You have quite a gift for design, dear.”
The whole time she’s speaking, her gaze is glued to my face, unfaltering. I see no pity reflected in her gaze. “Thank you.” I’m unable to look away from her boldness.
“I’d like you to meet my husband, Luis.”
She lets go of my hands, her attention now on her husband.
“Nice to meet you,” I say. “And this is Stephen.”
“Jenny and Stephen are engaged,” Ann says.
The guys shake hands.
“Congratulations. I love seeing all these young couples starting their lives together. And like my Ann and her Brett, you two are going to make pretty babies.”
“Mom.” Ann rolls her eyes. “Really? I already told you, you aren’t going to be a grandmother anytime soon.”
“It was a beautiful wedding.” This statement is my attempt at changing the subject. I don’t really want to talk about weddings, but it’s certainly a safer subject than babies.
“Besides,” Ann continues, “After watching those two kids scrap it out in the cul-de-sac, I’m not sure I want to sign up for that.”
“I’m with you.” I nod my head.
I’m not considering kids in any way, shape or form.
I don’t even have a potential groom.
Looking around at the group, I catch my breath.
What would these people think if they knew our engagement was false? The magnitude of the number of people we’ve pulled into our story has grown magnificently. They all have feelings, and they all, in one form or another, care for one of us.
An unexpected sense of grief filters through my body, hitting me hard amid the festive atmosphere of this wedding. I’m not sure I can handle this charade anymore. Stephen looks so amazing, he’s kind, he’s everything I would want in a guy, but he’s not mine.
Stace approaches our group. She introduces a very beautiful older woman as her mother, Lovey.
I smile at the name. Lovey’s dark hair and olive complexion are the exact opposite of Trixie’s fair skin and red hair. Ann and Stace’s father didn’t pass down too many genes to his daughters as they both resembled their mothers. Funny how that happens sometimes.
“Isn’t this an elegant wedding and reception?” Lovey asks to no one in particular.
“It is, Mama,” Stace responds. “It’s so small and quaint. Perfect for our Ann.”
“And so not for you,” Ann says with a smile on her face. The half sisters are equally beautiful, yet very different in every other way.
I see Stace eyeing Stephen. I don’t blame her. At all.
“So” Stace looks at Stephen and then me. “When is your big day? Soon?”
Her gaze, like Trixie’s a few minutes ago boldly stares at me. But I sense a more calculating brain working behind Stace’s calm exterior. Probably trying to figure out how close we are to the wedding to see if there is enough time to try and steal Stephen from me.
In looking at the two of them standing so close to each other, I can see compatibility. They are both beautiful, proud, and would be perfect for each other.
Yet here I am, stealing any opportunity he might have to be with someone who would really complement him.
“We haven’t set a date yet.” Stephen grabs onto my hand.
The music seems to have gotten louder.
The buzz of the conversation now tries to compete with the music.
The combination suffocates me.
In this moment, wanting to be who I’m pretending to be overwhelms me. I know that it will never be. And my selfishness is possibly holding Stephen back from finding happiness with someone else.
“Actually, there is no wedding date because there is no wedding.”
My statement silences the small crowd around us, including Ann and Brett. Shame at dropping this bombshell at their wedding engulfs me, but so does a sense of relief.
“Cheetah,” Stephen says softly.
“This is my fault,” I continue. “I needed a place to stay and Stephen’s boss needed to think he was in a relationship, so I lied. It felt more like helping out than lying but now it’s gone too far.”
Letting go of Stephen’s hand I take off the ring and set it in his palm, then fold his fingers around it. “You are really a great guy. Now you need to go out and find the woman who you are truly meant to be with.”
Cutting a look toward Stace, I smile. As in you have my permission to flirt with him.
That permission hurts my heart, but I’m through thinking about myself and what is good for me. I’ve caused too much hurt with that mentality.
I start walking over to Phoebe, to retrieve my little shadow and go back to the Stephen’s house.
“Cheetah.”
Stephen’s voice calls my name. I know the music is still playing and people are still chatting, but I can only hear Stephen.
I turn around to find him walking toward me.
Memories of his kisses cause my face to flush. He’s all masculinity standing in front of me. Protector. Any woman will be lucky to call him hers.
“Jenny. I’m not good with words. But
I’ve got to say that the thought of you walking out that door is destroying me. We may have come into this house, literally, in a false engagement, but I want to leave this house in a real engagement.”
Trying to process his words makes me overthink in so many ways. Is he just doing this to perpetuate the false engagement? Is he being sincere? I’m not at all sure what is happening here at this moment.
Because he can’t be seriously wanting to marry me.
“Stephen, you don’t have to do this.”
My voice is a whisper, in hopes that others won’t hear.
“I’m not doing anything I don’t want to. It’s come to my attention that you are a woman with class, integrity and a drive to succeed. I’ve fallen in love with your spirit of caring, loving and determination.”
He kneels on one knee and holds out the ring. “Cheetah, will you marry me?”
I feel a tug on my dress. Phoebe is looking at me, smiling.
“Miss Jenny, now is when you say yes.”
BOLD
“I AGREE WITH Phoebe,” Stephen says. “Say yes.”
This man wants to spend his life with me? I’ve realized now for a couple of days that I am in love with Stephen. But is he truly in love with me?
My brain can’t fathom it, but my heart doesn’t want to live without him.
“You’re serious?” My gaze clings to his, hoping.
“I’m extremely serious. I love you.”
Am I dreaming? I pray I’m not. “I love you. Yes. I say yes.”
I’ll never tire of his gorgeous smile. Phoebe claps, and he slips the ring back onto the finger it left just a few minutes ago.
The ring sparkles and feels weightless as people around us start to clap. Brett and Ann are by our side in a moment, congratulating us and giving us hugs.
“I really don’t know what just happened,” Ann says, “But as long as there is a wedding involved, it’s all good.”
“I’m sorry about doing this at your reception. I feel awful, but I couldn’t keep deceiving everyone.” I look at Stephen, still not believing he and I are really engaged.
“We’ll just say our happy reception influenced you.” Ann takes a sip of champagne.
Rich in Hope (Richness in Faith Trilogy Book 2) Page 20
