“Need some help?” I ask as they nearly spill over. I catch the one sliding from the top and then take a couple of boxes to carry.
“Thanks.” Ingrid smiles gratefully. “The bridesmaids’ flowers finally arrived.”
“So I guess there’s no need to gather wildflowers along the lakeside then.”
“No, but thanks for the thought.”
“How are you holding up?” I ask as I follow her up the stairs to the room that’s being used for storage and prewedding preparations.
“Okay, I guess.” She balances the boxes on one arm as she unlocks the door with an old-fashioned brass key. “But I’m starting to see that weddings aren’t just fun and games.”
“A lot of work, eh?”
“You got that right. Makes me wonder if I really want to go through all this for myself after all.”
I set the boxes on a table and turn to face her. “Seriously, Ingrid? You’re not having actual second thoughts, are you?”
She turns away and busies herself filling cans with water from the sink in the bathroom. I open the florist boxes and help her situate the bouquets in the water, but I am still waiting for her to answer. I’ve watched Ingrid grow up right alongside Jenny, and I know her well enough to see that something’s really bothering her.
Finally she speaks. “I don’t know, Elizabeth. I guess I’m wondering if I really want to get married or not.”
“Why’s that?”
“I’m not sure. But I’m feeling kind of freaked. Like what if I’ve just gotten caught up in Jenny’s wedding excitement, you know? Jumped onto the wedding bandwagon just for the fun of it? What if I don’t really love Jason?”
“Do you?”
“Love him?” She turns and gives me a blank look. “I guess so.”
“But you’re having some doubts?”
She nods. “I’m not sure what I think about marriage right now.”
I consider this. At the moment I’m not too sure what I think about marriage myself, but in fairness to Ingrid, I decide to put my personal feelings aside. “How is your relationship with Jason? I mean, does he treat you well?”
“Oh, yeah. He’s great. He treats me like a princess.”
I consider this. “Well, that doesn’t sound too bad.”
“But we don’t agree on everything.”
“No one does.”
“Like having kids. He wants lots, and right away. I’m not so sure.”
“Hmm … That could be a fairly big thing.”
“That’s what I thought too.”
But I’m still thinking about her weak response to my question about love. “What do you think you should do, Ingrid?”
Her big blue eyes get slightly misty. “I don’t know exactly. I was thinking maybe I should call the whole thing off—today even. I mean, why string him along if I’m this unsure?”
“So you are unsure?”
She shrugs again. “Maybe so.”
“Okay, I’ll ask you again. Do you love him?”
She takes a deep breath. “I thought I did.”
“But you don’t anymore?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, if you don’t know, that sounds like a bit of a red flag to me. Maybe you should rethink the whole thing. You know what they say—when in doubt, don’t. But really, Ingrid, is this a decision you must make today? You have to admit you’re feeling a little stressed right now. Maybe you should get through this wedding, give yourself a week or so to think things over, and then make a decision.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right.” She grins. “Anyway, Jenny always says that Aunt Elizabeth gives the best advice.”
Now this makes me laugh. “Too bad I don’t have any for myself.”
She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, right. As if you need any.”
I want to tell her not to be so sure, but then I realize this poor young thing has enough on her mind right now. So, instead, I hug her and tell her to make sure she gives herself a little rest before it’s time for the wedding to start. “I know you’ve been running yourself ragged for this wedding, but Jenny certainly doesn’t want her maid of honor to collapse from exhaustion during the ceremony, you know.”
“Yeah, I know. It’s the bride who usually does that.”
Then she thanks me for helping her, and we go our separate ways.
“Elizabeth?” says a familiar voice. I turn to see Jenny’s grandmother, Margaret, coming my way. Laura, from our luncheon table, is with her.
“I guess this means I missed lunch,” I say as I join them.
“Well, there might be some food left,” offers Laura. “But people are starting to clear out.”
“Is Suzette all right?” asks Margaret, and I wonder how much she knows.
“She’s resting.”
Margaret nods. “That’s just what I want Laura to do. Poor thing is fatigued from caring for her newborn around the clock. I told her I’d watch the little darling while she takes a nap.”
“I’m going to get her now,” says Laura. “Then I’ll take her to Margaret’s room and—”
“Can I help you?” I offer, wondering why I have this need to assist everyone today. Not that it’s so unusual, but I sense I’m overworking it a bit. Maybe it’s simply my excuse to avoid something else—such as my husband. Well, whatever it is, I just keep going with it. Aunt Elizabeth to the rescue.
“Oh, that’s okay,” says Laura. “It’s not—”
“Why not?” injects Margaret. “Let Elizabeth accompany you to your room, and she can deliver your baby to me. That way you’ll get even more rest. And, as I recall, Elizabeth is quite good with babies.”
I smile at her. “Thanks.”
“I remember one Christmas that no one could soothe little Jennifer the way you did.”
“She was so colicky.”
Margaret tells me her room number, and I go with Laura back to her room. She’s still protesting, but when we get there, we see a frustrated teen baby-sitter and a somewhat fussy and, as it turns out, hungry baby. I can tell Laura is relieved for any extra help right now. I wait while she nurses and burps the baby. Then I step in and take charge, gently removing the baby from her arms.
“Just give me the diaper bag, and Margaret and I will see that she gets changed. In the meantime, don’t waste a minute. Do what you need to, then get yourself a nice, long nap. We’ll bring Amy back when she needs you.”
“You’re really okay with—”
“Trust us, Laura. We’re almost family now.”
She smiles. “Thanks.”
I escort the much calmer baby down the hallway and try not to get too worried when she spits up all over my sleeve. Good thing DKNY is washable. Suzette’s outfit would’ve been toast.
“Elizabeth?”
Of course I recognize his voice instantly, but stubbornly I continue walking as if I didn’t hear him, until he calls again.
“What are you doing with that baby?” Phil asks with a completely bewildered expression. “I mean, whose is it? And where are you going?”
Without looking him in the eyes, I say, “This is Jenny’s little niece-in-law-to-be. Her name is Amy, and I’m taking her to Margaret’s room so poor Laura can have a nap.” Then I glance up at him, and I suppose my expression is a bit less than loving and kind. “Is that okay with you?”
“Well, uh, sure. I thought I might take a short hike, get some fresh air and exercise, enjoy the great outdoors.”
I feel my eyes rolling slightly. “Yeah, why not? Gotta stay in shape.”
He doesn’t miss the sarcastic edge to my tone. “What’s wrong with that?”
Thank goodness little Amy is starting to squirm, giving me an excuse to end this conversation. “Look, Phil, I need to get Amy settled. I suppose I’ll see you later.”
“But what about—”
Just then Amy lets out a loud squeal that cuts him off. Good girl, I’m thinking. “Sorry, I need to go,” I say as I turn and walk away. I try to walk as if I’
m not angry, but I know the sharp clicking sound of my heels is a dead giveaway. Well, so what? Why shouldn’t I be angry? Twenty-five years, or nearly, and this is the thanks I get from him. And after talking with Suzette and hearing about how Jim is carrying on, I wouldn’t be surprised if Phil hasn’t invited Delia to meet him here. Maybe he has her hidden away in one of those cabins I saw when we first arrived. Maybe they’re having a little tryst this very afternoon. Maybe Phil is actually relieved that I’m giving him the cold shoulder so he doesn’t have to make some lame excuse for getting away from me. Even so, he’s sure putting on a good act right now, as if he’s trying to make me feel like the guilty party.
Chapter 8
MARGARET
We’re pretty good nanny team,” I say to Elizabeth as she changes little Amy’s diaper. Were both sitting on the bed, one on either side of the baby I help hold those wiggling legs still and hand Elizabeth what she needs from the diaper bag.
“There,” says Elizabeth as she snaps up Amy’s pale pink pajamas. “That should do it.”
“Aren’t these disposable diapers a wonder?” I marvel as I take the little bundle to the wastebasket in the bathroom.
“They’ve sure come a long way from when my kids were little. Those old disposables might’ve kept the baby’s bottom dry, but everything else would end up totally soaked.”
I laugh as I wash my hands. “I remember laundering cloth diapers the old-fashioned way. We didn’t even have a dryer back then, so I had to hang them on the line. In the wintertime I’d take them down, and they would be frozen solid. I’d carry them into the house like a stack of giant crisp white crackers.”
“Oh, the good old days,” says Elizabeth in a teasing tone.
“You know, they were good.” I ease my old self into the chair across from the bed. “They weren’t easy, mind you, but they were good.” I sigh to think of how much things have changed. “Life was so much simpler back then.”
“Did you have a good marriage, Margaret?” asks Elizabeth suddenly.
I’m taken aback, not sure where this came from, but I answer her honestly. “It was good …and sometimes not so good …but mostly it was good.”
Elizabeth picks up the baby, cradling tiny Amy in her arms. “Tell me about the ‘not so good.’”
I study this young woman—well, young by my standards—and I wonder why she is so curious about my marriage to Calvin. After observing her at the luncheon, I suspect she’s having marital problems of her own. She seemed to be ignoring her husband. “It’s funny you should ask,” I begin, happy to share my tale with anyone willing to listen. “I was just thinking about my husband today—and missing him.” I sigh. “I suppose weddings do that to us, make us remember when we were young brides, when the world seemed so full of hope and great expectations. So long ago …”
“How long?”
“More than sixty years ago. Calvin passed on just before our sixtieth anniversary last year.”
“Wow, that is a long time.”
I smile. “Yes, that’s just what I was thinking today. Sixty years sounds so far away. We got married during the war. It seemed everyone was getting married back then. Calvin and I had been good friends in high school. We’d even dated a few times, but it had never been very serious. Then during the summer of ’44, he started coming by on a more regular basis. I knew he was going to be shipped off to the Pacific any day, and I also knew he was scared. Oh, he never admitted as much; men didn’t show their emotions much back then, but I could see it in his eyes. Boys had been coming home wounded and broken—or in coffins.” I pause as I remember how my older brother came home a mere shell of the robust young man he’d been when he left home only six months earlier. “The war was a very serious thing.”
“And so he proposed?”
“Yes. I was surprised, but at the same time not. And of course I accepted. We were married by a justice of the peace, and after only two weeks of married life, he was shipped off.”
“You must’ve been brokenhearted,” says Elizabeth as she gently rocks the baby back and forth on my bed. I can see that Amy is almost asleep now.
“I wouldn’t say ‘brokenhearted,’” I admit. “Of course I was worried for his welfare, but at the same time I was a bit overwhelmed at the whole idea of being married. I suppose I’d considered myself a somewhat independent girl. I’d been working in my father’s office and living in my own apartment. And suddenly, after I was married, I was sharing that apartment with a man, as it turned out, I barely knew. Believe me, there was a lot of adjusting to be done on both sides.”
Elizabeth nods. “I can imagine.”
“So although I never told anyone, I was slightly relieved to wave good-bye from the docks. I wanted him to come back, all right, and certainly in one piece, but I didn’t mind returning to my single-girl lifestyle.” I have to laugh now. “Of course, I had no idea I was pregnant at the time. As a result, my single-girl lifestyle was about to be drastically changed.”
“Wow, a baby in your first year of marriage. That must’ve been a challenge.”
“It was … but then it seemed everyone was going through challenges in those days. You learned to just take things in stride. I kept my little apartment and worked as long as I could. But it was while Calvin was away that I felt I really got to know my husband. He wrote me several times a week. And the things he wrote were so personal, so revealing, I not only began to feel I knew this man, but I began to really love him too.”
“So you must’ve been glad when he came home?”
“Oh, I was over-the-moon glad. But I quickly learned that most of my expectations for marriage weren’t very realistic.”
On I ramble, memories coming so fast I can hardly get them all out. Suddenly I realize I must be boring poor Elizabeth. “Forgive me,” I tell her. “I am going on and on.”
“No, it’s all right,” she says as she eases the now sleeping baby from her arms and onto the center of my bed.
“You did that nicely,” I tell her.
Elizabeth stands up and stretches her arms and then arranges the pillows like guardrails in case the baby should decide to roll, which I don’t think is even possible at this tender age. “Unless you’re tired, that is,” says Elizabeth as she takes the chair across from me.
I laugh. “Just because I’m old doesn’t mean I’m always tired.”
“No, no,” she says. “I didn’t mean that.”
“And I’m sure you must have things to do,” I say. “What with your husband and sons and whatnot.”
“The boys won’t be here until later this afternoon,” she tells me. “Patrick had to work until noon, and then they’re driving up together.”
“What’s your husband up to?”
She looks out the window and sighs. “Oh, he planned to hike around some.”
“And you don’t want to join him?”
She sighs and leans back. “Not so much.”
Something tells me all is not well with Elizabeth and Phil, but I’ve never been one to pry. Instead, we both sit and admire the sleeping baby; then I continue my tale.
Chapter 9
SUZETTE
I wake up and groggily look around. Where am I? I stare at the knotty-pine walls and the dark, plaid-covered furnishings, nothing like what you’d find in my sophisticated home. Then slowly it comes back to me—I’m still out here in the sticks. And I’ll be here for one more night in order to attend this ridiculous frontier family wedding. I rub my throbbing head and look at the clock. I must’ve been out for more than an hour. Then it hits me—my stomach is twisting and turning, and I barely make it to the tiny bathroom in time to lose my lunch into the toilet. Although it seems a fairly liquid sort of lunch. How many martinis did I drink, anyway? And why did I do something this stupid in the first place?
As I rinse my mouth and face in the old-fashioned sink—the kind that’s attached to the wall—I suddenly remember why. It hits me like a slap in the face: Jim is having an affair with Nicol
e. And although my nausea is pretty much gone, I feel sicker than ever inside. I feel like I want to die.
Where is he right now? What is he doing? Off in some secret hideaway, pretending to work? I consider going out to look for him, walking right in on the two of them, catching them in the act and then yelling so loudly that everyone knows exactly what’s going on. I imagine them scrambling for their clothes, trying to hide their shame, while everyone looks on with disgust. Then people might comfort me, tell me that he’s not worth it and that I’ll probably get some great divorce settlement since he’s the one who’s cheating on me.
But instead I fall back onto the rumpled bed, limp as the damp washcloth I’ve placed over my burning forehead. What am I going to do? What am I going to do? But before I can answer this question, I feel myself drifting again. Not into a peaceful slumber or a pleasant escape but what feels like a frightening kind of tortured coma. The last thought I am cognizant of is, What goes around comes around. Goes around comes around—and I feel the room spinning around and around and around with the words.
I see that another hour has passed when I wake up. I force myself to get out of bed, take a shower, fix my hair and face, and then put on my new Fendi jogging suit. Not that I jog, but I want something that looks classy yet casual while I do some exploring around this rustic place. Suddenly I am determined to find my philandering husband—determined to humiliate him if possible. After all, he deserves it. I even wear flats for this mission, and I stop by the gift shop in the lobby to get a bottle of Sprite and some Advil for my throbbing head and even a sun visor that goes nicely with my periwinkle velour jogging suit. I glance at myself in the mirror by the door. Okay, maybe I’m not at my best, but I can still hold my own. And even if Nicole is younger than I am, I still have a few miles left on me, a few tricks that haven’t been played yet.
So I walk around and around. I even ask a few people if they’ve seen my Jim, but no one seems to know where he is. Why hadn’t I thought to find out where they were “working”? I can be so naive at times. Finally I’m hot and winded and ready to give up. The afternoon sun seems to be getting to me. I heard the air is thinner up here, and it must be true, because I’m fairly lightheaded, so I sit down on a log bench to catch my breath. I actually lower my head between my knees. Not an attractive look, if you know what I mean. But it almost feels as if I’m going to throw up.
On This Day Page 5
