On This Day

by Melody Carlson

  “Great,” I tell him. “I can finally relax and have fun.”

  “So you’re not feeling blue over your broken engagement?”

  I laugh. “Not at all. In fact, while I was dancing with Michael, it occurred to me that Jason never did and never would love me the way Michael loves Jenny. And I wondered why I ever thought I would settle for second rate.”

  “Temporary insanity?”

  I nod. “Yeah, I think I had wedding fever—ready to tie the knot with any old guy in order to have a wedding. Pretty sick, isn’t it?”

  “It really is.”

  “I wonder if that’s one reason the divorce rate is so high,” I ponder out loud, then wish I hadn’t. What a gloomy subject to bring up when you’re just getting to know a guy.

  “That could be—oops, sorry,” he says after he steps on my toe.

  I laugh. “That’s okay. I’ve been worrying I’ll do the same thing before the night is over.”

  “I haven’t had much experience dancing,” he admits. “In fact, I was having a little panic attack over the possibility of making a fool of myself out here.”

  “Seriously?”

  He nods. “Yeah. I’m not the most socially comfortable guy, you know. I’ve really been trying to get over it by pushing myself outside my comfort zone and stuff. And my new jobs helping a lot. But sometimes … well, I get a little freaked.”

  “I sort of know how you feel.”

  “You’re kidding. You’ve always seemed so easygoing and confident to me, Ingrid. I don’t know any girl who seems as comfortable in her own skin as you do. And I mean that as a compliment.”

  “Well, thanks. But I was feeling a little panicky just a few minutes ago. I thought I’d probably step on Michael’s foot or fall on my face. But it turned out just fine.”

  “I read that one way to deal with those feelings is to imagine the worst that can happen, like you actually do fall on your face. Then you imagine a way to recover from it. Like you stand up and make a joke and take a bow, and everyone just laughs, and there’s no problem.”

  “So did you do that tonight?”

  He kind of laughs. “No, not really. For some reason I figured I’d be safe with you. Even if I did fall on my face or step on your toe—like I just did—I figured you’d cut me some slack.”

  “And you were right.”

  But now the song is ending, and as much as I want to dance with him again—and again and again and again—I know the rules. “You’re supposed to ask someone else to dance now,” I tell him. “And I happen to know that Lana is dying to dance with you.”

  He nods as if he understands. “No problem.”

  “But after a while, everyone can dance with whomever, you know?” I tell him hopefully. Okay, is that a blatant hint or what?

  He nods as if he gets me. “Right.”

  So I head off and invite another one of the groomsmen to the floor, but the whole time I’m dancing with Rod, I’m wishing it were Patrick instead. After a few more dances with other guys, I’m pleased to see Patrick coming my way again. At least I think he is, although it looks like Lana is trying to cut him off. Fortunately, he manages to get to me before she has a chance to say anything to him. Then Patrick and I have a couple more dances together. By now I’ve taken off my shoes, and even though I’m at risk of getting smashed toes, I think the pain will be less severe than the torture of those heels.

  I’m really beginning to relax and am even toying with the idea of leaning my head on Patrick’s shoulder when I feel a definite tap on my own. I cannot believe someone is cutting in. Suspecting it’s Lana, I turn around, ready to tell her to just blow. But to my surprise, it’s Jenny. I smile at my best friend and gladly surrender her cousin to her. “Be my guest,” I say, winking at Patrick.

  “Not Patrick,” she says with a devious twinkle in her eye. “You.”

  I laugh. “Sure, whatever, Jenny. It’s your big day. Give your guests a thrill.” I reach out my right hand, then stop. “Who’s going to lead?”

  “You can,” she says. “Do you mind if I steal her for a minute or two, Pat?”

  He throws back his head and laughs. “Not at all, Jen. I think it’ll be fun to watch you two pretty girls dancing.”

  So off we dance, giggling as we go. Only Jenny would think of something this wacky. “What’s up?” I ask after a few steps.

  “That’s just what I wanted to ask you.”

  “Huh?”

  “What happened to Jason?”

  “Oh …” I take in a deep breath. “I wasn’t going to tell you.”

  “What, Ingrid?”

  “We broke up.”

  “No way!”

  I nod. “Yeah. Actually he broke up with me.”

  Now she frowns and looks seriously concerned. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Ingrid. Are you okay?”

  I laugh. “I’m perfectly fine. I was almost ready to break up with him myself. I just wanted to wait until the wedding was over.”

  “But he did it first?”

  “Yeah. And, honestly, Jenny, I couldn’t be happier. I totally know that he was not the right guy. I don’t know why we ever got engaged.”

  She smiles now. “Oh, I’m so relieved. I never really got it, either. You guys were so different, and the way Jason treated you sometimes … Well, I just thought you deserved better, Ingrid. I’m so glad you could see it too.”

  “Me too. I think I was getting so into the wedding thing that I was blinded by white satin and tea roses, you know?”

  She nods. “I think weddings can be a major distraction. Although today’s been amazing and wonderful, I’m glad it’s almost over.”

  “Me too.”

  “Okay, one more question.”

  “Go for it.”

  “What’s up with you and Patrick?”

  I kind of giggle now. “Oh, I don’t know…”

  “Come on, Ingrid. I know you, and I know something’s up.”

  “I’ll admit that I think he’s pretty nice. We’re kind of getting reacquainted, you know.”

  She smiles a huge smile now “Well, that is totally cool. Patrick is a great guy—the real thing, you know what I mean?”

  I nod. “That’s what I thought.”

  The dance ends, and we go back over to the sidelines.

  “One more thing,” Jenny says, glancing over her shoulder as if to see if anyone’s listening.

  “What?”

  “I’m a little worried about Alex’s car.”

  “Huh?”

  She leans over and whispers in my ear. “It’s our getaway car tonight, and Michael said the top is down, and he hopes the guys don’t do anything to it—like when they’re fixing it up for when we leave. I’d hate to see them do anything that would mess it up. It’s a very expensive car, you know, and Alex is so sweet to let us use it.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Jenny,” I assure her. “I’ll get someone to help me guard it.”

  She grins. “I have a feeling I know just who you mean.”

  I glance over at Patrick. “Yeah, well, I’ll need someone big and strong and trustworthy…”

  “And I bet he’ll be more than glad to help you.”

  “When are you going to change into your getaway clothes?”

  “Pretty soon.”

  “You need any help?”

  She shakes her head. “My mom’s going to help me. You just make sure that car doesn’t get damaged.” Then she hugs me tightly and kisses me on the cheek. “I love you, Ingrid. And I’m so relieved that Jason’s out of the picture and that you’re happy about it.”

  “You and me both.”

  I head over to Patrick, glad to have a legitimate excuse to get him out of here. I explain Jenny’s concerns, and he’s ready to split. What a guy!

  Chapter 47

  MARGARET

  I am still eating my dinner when the wedding cake is brought in. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such an enormous cake, except perhaps in the movies, and those, I suspect, were
made of cardboard and paste. But this one is big and grand and spectacular.

  “Don’t worry, Mom,” Eric tells me. “Take your time with your dinner, and I told the waiters to bring you whatever you’d like for seconds. There’s no hurry.”

  I smile. “I’m fine. Don’t you fuss over me.”

  “Sure I can’t interest you in some champagne?”

  I consider this. At first I refused, concerned that it might make me lightheaded, but what does it matter? “Sure,” I tell him. “A bit of champagne would be lovely.”

  He smiles as he fills a tall, slender glass and hands it to me. “Cheers!”

  I echo his “Cheers!” then take a small sip, but the bubbles tickle my nose and make me giggle.

  “See?” he tells me. “Weddings are supposed to be fun!”

  “You’re right,” I agree. “And Jenny’s has been something else!”

  I take my time eating as I watch Jenny and her groom cutting their cake and then dancing their first dance together. They’ve picked the perfect song too—no surprise since Jenny loves the old tunes. I remember how Calvin and I once danced to that same song—“The Way You Look Tonight.” Hearing those words again causes a lump in my throat, and I feel certain I can’t eat another bite. But I do finish off my champagne.

  My eyes are misty as I watch the dancers. Jenny and Michael are such a lovely couple! Oh how I hope they will always be happy together. And I’m certain they will have beautiful children—children I will never see. At least not down here on earth. Perhaps God will let me peek in on them from time to time from up above.

  I push my plate away and lean back in my chair. The dance floor is beginning to fill up now, and I’m surprised to see my Eric leaving the fun to come back to our table. I’m about to wave him away when he takes my hand and helps me stand up. “Just one dance, Mom?”

  I smile, feeling self-conscious. “I’m not sure about these old feet,” I tell him. “I’m not as graceful as I used to be.”

  But soon we’re out on the dance floor, and he is carefully guiding me around and about the other couples. How much he looks like my Calvin! And for a few brief moments, I imagine that I am indeed dancing with my dear husband. But soon the song is over, and I’m a bit out of breath.

  “Another?” he offers.

  I shake my head. “It was lovely, Eric, but I think I’ll sit the next one out.”

  He grins. “Well, then I guess I’ll have to dance with my wife.”

  “You do that, Son.” I want to tell him that he should not only dance with her but he should cherish these moments, for they will pass away far too quickly. But I don’t say this as he walks me back to my table. I don’t want to sound like a wet blanket.

  I settle into the chair and try to catch my breath without drawing his attention. Despite my protests, he refills my champagne glass. “Two glasses won’t hurt you, Mom,” he says. “And I’ll get you a piece of cake too.”

  “Just a small one,” I call after him, at the same time wishing I hadn’t. I sound like such an old woman sometimes—I never wanted to be like this. It’s not that I despise growing old; I just don’t appreciate the weakness that seems to come with it. I can bear wrinkles and gray hair and sagging body parts, but I do so long for the energy I used to take for granted. Oh, I know it’s my heart slowly wearing itself out, and I could consider that surgery—but what would be the point?

  “Here you go.” Eric sets a generous portion of cake before me, and I realize he didn’t hear my silly request.

  “Thank you, Eric. It looks lovely.”

  “Say, Mom, would you mind if Michael’s mother brings a friend of hers over to sit with you?”

  “No, of course not. I would enjoy the company.” I’m thinking this will also provide a good excuse for me to stay off the dance floor.

  But I’m surprised when I see Catherine escorting an elderly gentleman toward my table. For some reason I had imagined her friend would be a woman. But no matter. I can just as easily make small talk with a man. I only hope his hearing is good, since the music in here is a bit loud.

  As they get closer to the table, I realize something about this man looks familiar. But I can’t quite put my finger on it. And I can tell by his expression that he thinks he may know me as well.

  “Margaret Simpson,” Catherine politely begins her introduction, “I’d like you to meet Dr. William Kelley, a longtime friend of my father’s.”

  William shakes my hand. “Actually, I’ve already had the pleasure,” he tells Catherine. “It’s been years, but Margaret and I are old friends too.”

  “Really?” Her face is a mixture of pleasure and curiosity. “Isn’t that wonderful! Then I’m sure you’ll enjoy reacquainting yourselves.”

  “Yes,” I manage to say, not nearly as composed as William. “I even worked for Dr. Kelley for a short while …long, long ago.” Now I wish I hadn’t mentioned this fact, since that was the very time William and I came dangerously close to … Well, I don’t even want to think about that.

  “Isn’t it a small world?” says Catherine. “Can I get you two anything?”

  “No,” I say. “I’m fine.”

  “Just getting to visit with my friend is more than enough for me,” he tells her with a wave of his hand as he takes the chair next to me.

  Suddenly I feel like a schoolgirl, tongue-tied and nervous and ready to take flight.

  “Margaret!” he exclaims. “I can hardly believe it’s you!”

  “It’s—it’s amazing, isn’t it?”

  He shakes his head and sighs. “It’s been a long time. And yet you look the same.”

  I sort of laugh. “Oh, not really. I’ve gotten quite old.”

  “But your eyes, your smile—they haven’t changed a bit.”

  So we visit like old friends, but he carries the bulk of the conversation, telling me about his second wife, how happy they were, and then how she died about five years ago.

  “I didn’t think I could go on after losing Helen,” he admits. “I honestly didn’t expect to make it a year without her.” Then he holds up his hands. “But here I am, nearly five years later, still going strong.” He pauses. “I’m sorry. I’m talking about myself. How about you and Calvin?”

  So I explain how Calvin died last year. “It was rather unexpected,” I tell him. “I mean, I was the one with the heart—” I stop myself, unwilling to admit this defect to my old doctor friend.

  “You have a bad heart, Margaret?” The concern in his eyes causes something in me to crack just slightly.

  I nod and look down at the table. “And it seems to be getting worse.”

  He reaches out and puts his hand on mine. “I’m sorry. Isn’t there anything that can be done for you? After all, we live in an age of medical miracles and the greatest technology known to man. I don’t practice anymore, but I do keep up with the medical journals, and it seems every time I turn around, some new procedure has been developed and approved. Isn’t there anything to help you?”

  I consider his question. How easy it would be to simply brush this whole thing off and pretend my case is hopeless. But, on the other hand, I am curious as to what he thinks of the surgery my doctor has recommended.

  “Can I trust your confidentiality?” I ask.

  He smiles. “Of course you can, Margaret. You always could.”

  I actually feel myself blushing at this last remark, or perhaps it’s the champagne. But I go ahead and describe what my doctor has suggested, as well as my reservations. “I’m just so old,” I finally say, “that I wonder why go to the trouble. After all, I know where I’m going after this life is done, and feeling so tired and lonely sometimes, well, I would welcome going.”

  “I know exactly what you mean,” he says. “It was Helen who helped bring me to my faith, and after she passed on, I wondered why I’d want to hang on any longer myself. I’m certainly not getting any younger, either—I’m a couple of years older than you, Margaret. Heaven seemed an appealing escape to me too.”
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  I nod. “Yes, that’s just how I feel.”

  “Can I tell you something?”

  “Of course.”

  He leans forward in his chair now, looking directly at me as if he’s about to divulge some great secret of the universe. And perhaps he is. But instead, he takes my left hand in his and points to my wedding ring, which makes me a bit nervous. “That diamond,” he finally says. “What makes it so valuable?”

  Well, I’m completely speechless, not to mention feeling a bit conspicuous.

  “Other than the sentimental value, I mean,” he continues. “What makes a diamond so valuable?”

  I blink and nervously pull my hand away. “Because it’s rare?” I manage to stammer, feeling like an eight-year-old being quizzed by the teacher.

  “That’s right!” He smiles encouragingly. “Now think about this, Margaret. How long are our earthly lives compared to our lives throughout eternity?”

  I consider this. “Quite short, really.”

  He nods. “Right again. Our earthly lives are but a drop in the bucket compared to eternity, which in my opinion makes them a bit like a diamond—very valuable and rare. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  I let this sink in a bit before I answer. “I think I do …”

  “What I’m trying to say is that maybe we need to value our earthly lives more—see this time as a diamond—-since it’s so brief and can never be done again.”

  “Are you saying I should have the surgery?” I ask.

  “Only you can make that decision, Margaret. I’m simply saying that your earthly life is like a diamond and not something you want to lightly toss away.”

  “How did you get to be so wise, William?”

  He laughs now. “It’s taken decades and decades, and I’m still working on it.”

  “Well, you’ve certainly given me something to think about.”

  He reaches for an upside-down champagne glass and the open bottle that’s sitting on the table. “And if you don’t mind, I’d like to make a toast.” He fills his glass and then looks at mine. “Will you join me?”

  I hold up my glass to him. “Certainly”