The Second Yes

by Amanda Tru

  She snorted and crossed her arms. “It may have taken you to make me, but she did everything else on her own. You and I both know that. Fifteen years ago, we would have both welcomed you with open arms. But right now, she’s dying. And I don’t want you here because she’ll feel upset, or ugly, or not good enough, because that’s what you do to her.” She spoke with impassioned authority, then pointed down the hall again, using her command voice. “Go, and don’t come back. If you want to see her later, you can call her and give her a chance to get ready to see you.”

  It shouldn’t have surprised her when he turned and left, but it did on a small scale. Why in the world would he even come? “Ugh!” she said, gripping the sides of her head in frustration.

  When she looked up, she realized Pastor Ryan Olson stood next to her having witnessed her emotional outburst. She blushed. He’d been a couple of years ahead of her in school, but she remembered him as the student council president his senior year. He’d left town to attend seminary at Asbury near Lexington. When he came back, he’d started his own church a couple of miles outside of the downtown area, and in a few years had grown it into a thriving part of the community. Her mother had planned a few of Ryan’s birthdays and high school and college graduation parties. Traci, therefore, knew Travis’ family went there instead of the church in which he grew up.

  “Hey, Traci. How’s things today?”

  “Hi, Ryan.” She pointed at the door behind her. “She’s feeling okay, but still weak. My father just tried to visit her.”

  He nodded. “Yeah. I saw that.” He cleared his throat. “Why would you send him away?”

  With a shrug, she said, “She feels not good enough around him. Right now, she doesn’t have her usual shield of appearance defenses up. Just being in the room would make her self-conscious. I’d rather she had time to prepare before he sees her.”

  “I’m sorry that’s how she feels.”

  “It’s always been like that. He replaced her with another woman and me with another child. It wasn’t like he wanted to keep us in his life. He wanted them. He wanted us completely gone. It was hard for me, but I imagine it was horrible for her.” She straightened and slipped her hands into her jeans. “I have to run to her house and grab a couple of things. Are you going in to visit?”

  He looked at the door then back at her. “Only if you think she’d want me to.”

  “I know she’d love it. Maybe you could pray with her while you’re at it? She’s taken a lot of information in during the last few days that would overwhelm even a saint.”

  “I’ll go have a little visit with her.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “You’ve taken a lot in, too. You know where to find me.”

  With a closed-lipped smile, she started walking down the hallway, turning to walk backward and face him. “I’ll find you if I need to.”

  It felt good to walk out into the sunshine. Traci took her time walking to her car, letting the spring air fill her lungs. She lifted her face to the sky and said a silent prayer of thanksgiving for Ryan showing up when he did, for her courage in facing down her father, and for patience in dealing with her mother’s convalescence.

  She drove to her mom’s house and used her key to go in. She went upstairs and into the master bathroom, stopping short just inside the doorway. She didn’t think she’d entered this room since she was maybe thirteen. A large bay tub sat under a skylight. Flowering plants hung from hooks giving it a rain forest feel. Next to the tub stood a glass-walled walk-in shower. In there she found the shampoo. She went ahead and grabbed the conditioner, too.

  In case they needed it, she pulled another pair of pajamas out of the dresser drawer, then went downstairs to her mom’s office. The wedding book sat on top of her desk. She scooped it up, surprised a little at its weight.

  Everything else appeared in order. She’d have to remember to ask her mom when the cleaning team typically came. For the life of her, that little detail had escaped her mind and wouldn’t come back.

  After she locked up her mom’s house and deposited the items in her car, she went ahead and went upstairs to her own apartment. Her eyes glanced over the chairs on the porch and she thought back to the conversation she and Travis had the night Bubba Crawford had taken his own life. Had Travis come over intent on delivering an ultimatum, or had she over-thought it in the midst of her emotional storm?

  One thing she knew, having him by her side at the hospital and the following days made her realize how much she had grown to depend on him, how much she longed for a life with him. Three years ago, she would have laughed anyone out of the room who would have told her she’d depend on a man for the strength to get through anything. She’d certainly depended on Travis, and he’d come through for her.

  She pulled her phone out of her pocket and dialed his number. He answered on the second ring. “Hey,” Traci greeted warmly, “can I come by the school real quick?”

  “Sure.”

  “Okay. Give me a few minutes.”

  “See you then.”

  In her bedroom, she opened her top dresser drawer and found the box with the ring Travis had given her. She opened it, looked at it, then slipped it onto her finger. It felt right. It felt good.

  Smiling, she grabbed an apple out of the bowl on the kitchen bar and rushed out of the apartment and down the stairs. She drove to Travis’ school and parked in the loading zone near the front door. He met her outside.

  “How’s Michelle today?”

  “Weak. I hope they let her go home instead of keeping her in the hospital. I think she would do way better around all of her stuff.”

  “I guess the tests they run this week will tell them that.” He put a hand on her elbow and leaned in to give her a soft kiss. Over the last several days, his kisses had been cooler, less intimate, as if more out of habit or obligation. This one, though, she tried to intentionally heat up. She loved him. She loved him with all of her heart, and she wanted to be his. Without saying the words, she tried to let her lips express her thoughts. Her arms slipped around his neck, and she stepped as close to him as her uniform would allow. When he started to deepen the kiss, she ran her hands over his face and breathed deeply through her nose, relishing in the feel of him and the smell of him.

  He framed her face with his hands and slowed the kiss down, gentled it until it became barely more than an exchange of breaths. She covered his hands with hers and gave him one more kiss before pulling her head back. As they parted, he picked up her left hand. “What’s this?”

  Feeling heat flood her face, she cleared her throat and kept eye contact with him. “I realized the last few days how right it felt to lean on you. If that’s what marriage will be like, then I’m in.”

  The smile that covered his face seemed lit from inside him. “Oh, yeah?”

  Traci nodded. “I’m all in. A hundred percent.”

  “All it took is your mother collapsing outside of my school? Good thing she didn’t know that or she would have conspired against you years ago.”

  The laughter that bubbled out of her chest felt fantastic. She realized she hadn’t laughed for days. “You’re right.” Framing his face with both hands, enjoying the familiar feel of his beard, she said, “I’m sorry I was a brat. I love you. Please forgive me.”

  “Of course I forgive you.” After a long, sweet kiss, she pulled away. “I have to go back to the hospital. Mama wants to wash her hair.” She walked back to her car. “I’ll see you later. We’ll have to talk about the how and when because I’ve just used a full week of vacation and don’t know what I have left.”

  He smiled and lifted his hand to wave. “It’ll work out.”.

  Travis Seaver stood inside the doorway of the hospital room and stared at Traci sleeping in the chair next to her mother’s bed. He’d never had a chance to observe her in sleep before. Her face softened, and the aggressive demeanor vanished. She looked feminine, vulnerable, and very, very kissable. She had a big binder in her lap, open to a magazine cutout of a tab
le setting.

  His eyes shifted to Michelle, who slept. He barely recognized her without her makeup on and knew from things that Traci had said that she felt naked and exposed without it. He hoped that the doctors would allow her to put it on again soon.

  He stopped next to Traci and put a hand on her shoulder before grabbing the other chair in the room and pulling it toward her. Instead of startling awake, she kind of slowly, gradually came to, stretching and yawning, then finally straightening up all the way. She rubbed her face and smiled up at him. He bent for a kiss just because he couldn’t help it.

  “Hi,” she said with a smile. “How was class?”

  “Good. New family moved to town, and all five of them started in the six o’clock class. They’re all varying degrees of skill, so it was interesting.” He tapped the binder. “What’s this?”

  Traci smiled and shut the cover. “It’s mom’s wedding book. It’s what she wanted to get that night we told her we were getting married. She has been obsessed with planning her own wedding since she could draw a picture.” She opened the front cover, and he saw a child’s drawing of a dress covered in butterflies. “Since she got pregnant with me in high school and didn’t ever get married, she never had her dream wedding.” She shook her head. “It’s all in here. Dress, decorations, flowers. It’s morphed over time. The amount of love and care she put into it is kind of incredible.”

  He looked around the room, at the baskets and vases of flowers, at the pink bed covering and purple satin pajamas. “I’m surprised you haven’t run out of here screaming by now.”

  “What?” She looked around, too, and smiled. “It’s amazing what a kick in the butt will do to your perspective.” She tapped the binder again. “I’m actually, seriously, considering this.”

  With a raised eyebrow, he lowered himself to the chair. “This? What this?”

  “Her wedding. Her dream wedding.”

  He took a second as her words processed through his brain. “You’re actually thinking of us having a wedding? Like, dress, flowers, banquet meal? That’s a fairly serious paradigm shift.” With his hand against her forehead, he frowned. “No fever. Stick out your tongue.”

  She did, but in a bratty girl way with her nose wrinkled. It made him want to kiss her again. “You’re very pretty,” she said in the most uncomplimentary voice possible.

  With a nod, he said, “Lucky for you.”

  “She only has a couple of months left to live. I’ve been sitting here for days thinking about how horribly I’ve treated her most of my life. She’s had symptoms for years, and I never noticed. You know why? Because I didn’t care.” She pressed her fists against her eyes. “Then, when she is about to be taken away from me, I realize just how important she is to me. It’s so unfair.”

  “Traci…,” his voice trailed off because he honestly didn’t know what to say to make her feel better. “What can I do?”

  With a shaky laugh, she tapped the top of the binder. “Help me with this. God knows I’ll need the help. I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing or how to do it. But it has to be done quickly, and I can’t ask her to do it.”

  “Looks like she’s already done it. All we have to do is implement it.” He reached over and opened the binder to a random page. He stared at the magazine cutout of a woman wearing a white wedding dress with a butterfly on her choker. “You’re going to wear something like this?”

  She didn’t look at the picture. She looked at her mom, sleeping in the hospital bed. “I’ll wear whatever she wants me to wear.”

  His mind whirling, he reached over and took her hand. “You don’t have to do this. If you just had a wedding that she helped you plan, that would be enough.”

  “This is honestly what I want to do. Imagine how thrilled she’ll be.”

  Reaching over, he flipped a few more pages and noticed the theme. “Butterflies, huh?” With a chuckle, he nudged her shoulder. “Going to be like coming out of a cocoon to your new and beautiful self?”

  “Did you just call me a caterpillar?”

  “A cute caterpillar.”

  When she turned her head and glared at him, he saw a spark of his Traci and quit worrying about her. “Don’t press your luck, babe.”

  Traci stood in the doorway of the Branch Bridal Wedding Shop and felt her stomach clench in nervous apprehension. She smelled potpourri and coffee and dresses. In the windows, mannequins posed in wedding attire, prom attire, and little flower girl attire. Racks of dresses in a rainbow of colors filled the room. Against one mirrored wall sat a platform about two-feet tall. Damask sofas and dainty end tables surrounded the platform.

  She shifted her sheriff’s uniform belt and felt as out of place as she could possibly feel.

  A woman with short, curly brown hair stood behind the counter. She had a phone to her ear and leafed through a giant book in front of her. “Right,” she said, pulling the pencil out from behind her ear and marking in a notebook. “Okay. I need delivery by Thursday. Great. Thanks.”

  She hung up the phone and looked up at Traci. “Good morning. How is your mom doing?”

  “Uh,” the recognition threw her off. “She’s, uh, not doing well, actually.”

  Her face fell, and she stepped out from behind the counter. “I’m Dorothy Branch by the way. I don’t think we’ve ever officially met.”

  “Traci. Nice to meet you.” They shook hands, and she looked around. “This is, uh, quite a place you’ve got here.”

  With a beaming smile, she said, “Thanks! My mother was a seamstress and had a dress shop. When she died, I turned it into a formal-wear shop.” She gestured up and down at Traci. “So, I hear you’re getting married.”

  “I, uh, yeah.” She held up the box she carried. “I have a request, and it’s probably going to sound strange. My mom has been drawing similar wedding dresses since she was a little girl. I’d like to know if they can be put together and made into a dress that symbolizes the spirit of her drawings.”

  She held out the thin box that had once contained letterhead paper with her mom’s company logo on it. “How exciting. Let me see,” Dorothy said, taking it from her and setting it on the counter. She lifted the lid. A crayon drawing on gray construction paper sat on the top. “Ohhh,” she breathed. She gently lifted it up and studied it. “Oh, this is wonderful.”

  Dorothy looked through each piece of paper, giving each a practiced glance, then reached over the counter and picked up a notebook. “I cannot possibly do this work. It’s so beautiful. I am going to contact a designer I know and have her do it.” She looked up at Traci. “I’ve seen her work. If you’re willing to allow me to send this to her, all of this, I think what you get back will amaze you.”

  “Thank you.” She glanced around again. “I need some other gowns, too, like for the bridal party.”

  Dorothy grinned. “Those, I can probably handle.” She reached over the counter again and pulled out a thick appointment book. “In fact, I would be delighted. When is your wedding date?”

  “June 22.”

  Dorothy looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “That’s really soon. Less than three months from now.”

  “I know.” She cleared her throat.

  “There’s really no delicate way to ask this. Should I let the designer know that we may need to let out the waist size a bit?”

  Traci blinked, then snorted. “No. My mom probably has four months to live. I’d like to do this while she can be there.”

  The older woman blushed first, probably as a result of her initial assumption. Then her eyes filled with unshed tears and she swallowed her lips. When she spoke, she said, “I’m very sorry to hear that. We’ll get it done in plenty of time. I’ll go ahead and call London and let her know what I’m sending her. I’ll email her a couple of these images so she can get started right away. What else do you need?”

  Traci hooked her thumbs into her uniform belt. “I think this is a good start. Thank you.” She reached up with one hand and tapped the top of the
box. “I mean it. This is not my world. I don’t know what’s supposed to happen when. Thankfully, my mom has so many checklists and guides that I can go back and see what my wedding looks like with those.”

  “Well, know how much we love your mom, and we will make sure that everything for your wedding goes to the head of the line as our top priority.”

  “Thanks.”

  Dorothy smiled. “Let’s get you measured.”

  Traci took off her uniform belt and boots and stood on a two-foot platform while Dorothy took every possible measurement she could take. When she walked out of the shop, she slipped her sunglasses back on and looked around. What next? Right. Work. She had to work now because she needed to save as much personal time as possible for when she needed it again. Knowing in her heart that when her mom got to the point of death, she’d need more time. Instead of sadness, hot burning anger flooded her chest. How was this anything close to fair?

  Honestly, though, how could she feel such righteous indignation? She’d spent her entire adult life trying to avoid her mother, and now all she wanted was to find a way to make her happy in the last few months of her life.

  She walked down the street and headed back to her office. As she crossed the road, her eyes fell onto the Two Sisters Flower Shop sign. Maybe she should pop in there, too.

  Wire racks of potted green plants covered the sidewalk in front of the store on one side of the door, all different shapes and sizes. On the other side, blooming bushes, buckets of roses, budding tulips, and other flowers she could not even identify overflowed the area.

  The door jingled when she walked in and immediately the overwhelming smell of fresh-cut flowers assaulted her nose. It transported her back into the hospital room, waiting to find out the test results, listening to the doctor explain what advanced congestive heart failure meant and all of the implications. It took all of her will-power not to put a finger up to her nose to block the smell. Spanish tile covered the floor, and the air had a cool, moist feel to it.