Maybe This Time

by Kasie West

  “Sophie doesn’t like my suit, Micah. Tell me I look nice before I get a complex.”

  Micah laughed. “You look so handsome.”

  I gave an exaggerated eye roll.

  “Stop distracting me, you two,” Micah said. “I’m supposed to be working here.” She tapped my shoulder with her empty tray, then flitted off.

  Andrew and I stood there for a moment in silence. The sound of Kyle’s voice singing a slow song filled the air between us. Kyle had a nice voice. The songs the band was forced to play tonight made that more apparent. At the head table, Chad stood, pulling Janet up with him, and they danced right next to their seats, him holding her close.

  “What are the odds?” I said, more to myself than anything.

  “Of what?” Andrew asked.

  “Of two people who can be compatible for the rest of their lives actually finding each other.”

  “Not sure I know the exact numbers on that,” he said.

  “The odds are low. Very low,” I said.

  “A cynic about love,” Andrew said dryly. “How original.”

  Maybe I was a cynic about love. My gaze drifted to Kyle. Was I the one not letting us move forward? I wasn’t exactly surrounded by good relationship examples. If my dad could up and leave, no looking back, after fifteen years with a person, what guarantees were there?

  I started to walk away when several loud screams sounded from somewhere in the middle of the tables. My first thought was that it had finally started raining. But people weren’t looking at the sky, they were looking at the ground. One guest was up on her chair. Chad and Janet had stopped dancing and were leaning over their table in an attempt to see what was happening.

  “What do you think that’s about?” Andrew asked, but I was already moving toward the commotion.

  A group of men stood around a very large opossum. Its razor-sharp teeth were bared and its black eyes were glowing. Several of the guys had their cell phones out and were snapping pictures or videos. One guy had his jacket off and was swatting at the animal, supposedly in an attempt to get it to move along. The poor opossum was frozen in fear, seconds away from playing dead, I was sure.

  “That is terrifying,” Andrew said from where he stood at my shoulder.

  I whirled around and ran back to the house in search of a trapping device. The closest room was the kitchen, and the first thing I found was a large box on the ground. I swiped it up and went running, vaguely hearing the sound of Jett shouting something after me.

  When I reached the group again, I turned the box upside down and lowered it over the opossum. There were a few cheers and a couple of boos as well, as if I had taken away a fun toy. The guests scattered back to their tables or to the dance floor.

  Janet shouted out a “Thank you!” to me, and I waved to her and Chad.

  “What now?” Andrew asked, nodding to the box. I still had my hand on top of it.

  I took a breath. “Now we slowly slide this box through the tables and let the wedding crasher loose past the trees over there.”

  “We?”

  “Yep. Welcome to country life, sir.”

  I thought he might object, but Andrew, nice suit and all, moved to the other side of the box and said, “Ready?”

  I nodded. We slid the box and immediately felt the pressure of resistance. We kept pushing and moved it a couple of inches at a time around the tables.

  “Does this happen often?” he asked.

  “Never at a wedding. At least not one I’ve been to.”

  “But at other events?”

  “I once found an opossum in the shed behind the flower shop. And at Grandma Harris’s ninetieth birthday, a raccoon tried to eat her cake.”

  “What a rude raccoon.”

  “She thought so too.” We made it past the reception area to the grass, but my heels kept sinking into the earth. “Hold on a second.” I kicked them off.

  Andrew stood straight and stretched, then slid off his jacket. “It’s hot.” He started to put his jacket on the ground next to my shoes but I stopped him.

  “What are you doing? It’ll get dirty.”

  “I’ll get it dry-cleaned.”

  I held out my hand. He looked confused but gave me his jacket. About thirty feet to the left of us, the chairs from the ceremony were still set up. I could see their white silhouettes in the darkness. I jogged over and tucked my shoes under a chair and laid his jacket over the back. Then I returned and placed my hands back on the box. “Ready?”

  He pointed. “All the way to the trees?”

  “Yes, then it won’t come back.”

  “Okay, let’s go.”

  It took us another ten minutes to inch the box to the trees. When we arrived we both stared at the overturned box.

  “It’s not going to attack us or anything, is it?” he asked.

  “No, he just wants to get away.”

  “Okay. Here goes nothing.” Andrew lifted his foot, placed it on the side of the box closest to us, and tipped it back. We waited for the creature to go scurrying, but nothing happened.

  “Did we lose it somewhere along the way?” Andrew asked, looking behind us.

  “No, I felt it.” I moved around the box slowly. There was nothing on the ground. I crouched down to look inside.

  A loud hiss sounded before the creature scurried out of the box.

  I screamed and fell back onto my butt. Andrew laughed, and the opossum ran into the trees.

  I scowled at Andrew and he stepped in front of me and held out his hand. I thought about rejecting it, but that seemed worse than just taking it. So I did. He pulled me to my feet too quickly, causing me to trip forward. My free hand used his chest for support. He kept hold of my other hand until I was steady.

  “You good?” he asked.

  I met his eyes to say yes, but couldn’t quite get my words out—his stare seemed so intense. I pushed off his chest, taking a step back. “Yes, fine.”

  He turned and bent down. “Wait, is this …” He flipped the box, open side up. “Where did you get this?”

  “I grabbed the first one I could find in the kitchen.”

  “This is the box my dad stores his mixer in.” Andrew pointed to the picture of a red mixer on the outside and bit his lip. “He’s going to be ticked.”

  “Oh.”

  He held out the box for me to take. “Good luck.”

  I groaned. “Thanks a lot.”

  I’d seen a lot of scowls on Jett Hart’s face over the last several months, but this was the worst one yet.

  “It’s filthy,” he said, his scowl now directed at the open flaps of the box. He was right. They were damp and streaked with dirt and grass.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, wishing I had thought to grab my shoes before returning the box. I already felt stupid enough, and being barefoot wasn’t helping my case. “Speed was necessary, and this was the first box I could find big enough to trap the opossum.”

  “There was a rodent in my box?”

  “Not really in it. Sort of under it.” I looked around for Mr. Williams. He would put in a good word for me, or at least be the witness that kept Jett from annihilating me. Mr. Williams was nowhere in sight. He must’ve gone outside with the wedding cake. He often did.

  “Haven’t I asked you before not to be anywhere near my things?” Jett was barking. “Can you not follow simple directions?”

  “I really am sorry,” I said. “I can probably find you another box similar in size that would work for your mixer.” We received boxes all the time with flower deliveries.

  “I don’t want another box! I want you to grow a brain so that you have at least a drop more common sense.”

  I took a step back. Had he really just said that? “What?”

  “Out! Now!”

  I squared my shoulders and was about to say something—I wasn’t quite sure what—when someone pulled me out of the kitchen by my arm. In the hall, Micah turned me to face her.

  “I know you’re mad,” she said qu
ietly. “Cool off before you do something you’ll regret.”

  “Like tell off that monster?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why shouldn’t I, though?” I shook my head, still in shock over Jett’s behavior. “I can’t believe I ever wanted his help for anything. There is no way he has any contacts because nobody could possibly like him.”

  Micah’s eyes turned pleading. “Soph. Come on. For me and my dad?”

  Finally, I gritted my teeth and nodded once.

  She let go of my arms. “Thank you.”

  “Does he talk to you like that?”

  “He yells sometimes, but usually isn’t quite so insulting. It’s his artistic temperament.”

  “Is that the excuse he goes with?”

  She led me toward the exit, as if she didn’t trust me not to dart back into the kitchen the second she left me.

  “By the way,” she said, “when you were taking care of the oversized rat problem, I took a plate of food out to Gunnar.”

  “Oh! Gunnar!” Now I felt even worse. “I got caught up in other stuff. Thank you.”

  “Of course.”

  “And he was okay?”

  “Yes, just playing on his iPod.”

  “And my mom?” I asked as we stepped outside. “How is she?”

  “She’s mingling. You know how social she is.”

  I searched the crowd until I saw Mom’s purple dress over by Kyle and the band. There was no music playing, and she was standing on her tiptoes saying something to Kyle. He didn’t seem irritated or embarrassed by whatever it was she was doing there. Kyle nodded a few times.

  The band started playing some upbeat song and my mom cheered, “To Janet and Chad!” She grabbed the arm of the nearest guest and attempted to start some sort of conga line. Several people joined but most just looked on and laughed.

  “I am not my mother’s keeper,” I said, just as a drip of moisture hit my face. One at first, followed by several more.

  Oh no.

  “Looks like this party is ending early,” Micah said. “At least they cut the cake.”

  It was like her words gave the sky permission to open up. Screams and shouts could barely be heard over the noise of the sudden storm. Raindrops pounded down, and I ran straight for my mom, weaving in and out of bodies that were heading for the house or the parking lot.

  Kyle had his guitar wrapped up in his arms, trying to keep it dry. Bryce had his suit jacket spread out over his drums. “My precious kit!” he wailed. “We needed to put a tent clause in the contract!”

  “We had no contract!” Kyle yelled back.

  My hair and clothes were drenched by the time I reached my mom.

  She laughed. “That storm blew in quick!”

  “Does Gunnar have the car keys?” I yelled. “All the windows were open.”

  She cussed loudly, then took off.

  The reception area cleared fast. I turned my face skyward. The stifling heat of the day made way for cool relief. It seemed to wash away all the tension I had been feeling moments ago about Jett Hart. And my mother. And everything. I smiled at the sky. “Is that the best you can do?”

  “Don’t challenge the sky, Sophie,” Bryce said. “Please.” He, Jodi, Kyle, and Lincoln were carefully disassembling all the band equipment and carrying it offstage.

  I took in the rain-soaked reception area and saw Janet’s bouquet sitting on the head table. It wouldn’t survive this storm. I picked my way around toppled chairs and over dropped silverware. This cleanup was going to be more work than normal.

  One of the centerpieces tipped over right in front of me. Clear marbles from the vase rolled off the table and onto the ground, rain making them shine. I suddenly pictured diamond-studded shoes and embellished skirts, their wearers twirling across rain-soaked pavements, water and diamonds making the shoes sparkle.

  The sound of a crashing cymbal pulled me out of my thoughts.

  “Be careful with that!” Bryce yelled. I looked over to see the band disappearing around the corner with the last of the equipment.

  I redirected my attention to the path in front of me. Too late, I noticed the amber-colored glass of a broken beer bottle and stepped right on it with my still-bare foot.

  Ouch.

  I sucked air in between my teeth. I looked around but there was nobody.

  There was no way he could hear me but I tried anyway. “Kyle!”

  The rain had let up a little and I heard cars starting in the gravel parking lot. My skirt didn’t have pockets so I’d left my cell phone in my purse in the coat closet when I’d arrived. Now I cursed myself for that.

  Carefully, I made my way around the rest of the glass on my tiptoes until I reached the bouquet. It still looked good. I picked it up then hopped on one foot to the first tree I could find for a bit of cover. Still holding my bouquet, I leaned against the tree, hiked up my skirt a little, and lifted my foot to assess the damage.

  A large piece of glass protruded from the center of my foot. Blood slowly trickled around it. My stomach flipped. I had only eaten that one piece of shrimp all day and the sight of blood was making me light-headed. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement through the rain.

  I lowered my foot. “Over here!” I called out.

  The person changed direction and soon stood in front of me, water dripping off his hair and down his face.

  “Sophie?” Andrew was holding my shoes in one hand and his jacket in the other. “What are you doing?”

  I held up Janet’s bouquet. “Saving this.”

  “And trying to get hit by lightning?” He nodded to the tree.

  “There hasn’t been lightning since before the rain,” I said, pushing my bangs off my forehead so they would stop dripping in my eyes.

  “I was saving these.” He held out my shoes for me.

  “Thanks. Wish I would’ve had them ten minutes ago.”

  That’s when he seemed to realize I was favoring one foot. And that’s when I realized my skirt was still halfway up my thighs.

  I tugged it down, my cheeks going pink. “I stepped on glass.”

  It took him a second to process those words, and then his eyes shot down to my foot. “That sucks.” He took two steps back. “Well, see you later.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him.

  He laughed. “Okay, so here are your choices. Fireman’s carry or piggyback ride.”

  “I don’t need you to carry me. Just lend me your shoulder and carry this bouquet.”

  “Really?” he asked. “You’re going to be stubborn about this? Why am I surprised?”

  “I’m wearing a skirt, Andrew. I am not jumping on your back.” I gestured for him to come closer and he stepped up next to me, offering his shoulder.

  I handed him the bouquet and grabbed hold of him.

  “Do you want to put on at least one shoe?” he asked.

  “I’ll probably twist my ankle if I try to hop in one heel.”

  “True.” He took a step and I jumped forward, my toes squishing in the muddy grass.

  We moved like this all the way back to the Stanton Estate. Andrew was bent as far forward as he could go, and held the bouquet under the shelter made by his chest. After navigating the walkway and many misplaced items—a shawl here, a glass there—we finally made it inside.

  I thought there would be a loud mess of guests clogging the halls, but it was like a ghost town. Micah, who must’ve heard the door open, poked her head out of the kitchen.

  When she saw who it was, she smiled and joined us. “Where have you two been? You look like a couple of drowned rats.”

  I took the bouquet from Andrew and held it up. “Is Janet still here?”

  “She was on her way out a minute ago.”

  “Will you check? Or find her mom or someone?”

  “Of course. What’s wrong with you, though?”

  “Stepped on glass.”

  “That’s why we wear shoes at weddings, darlin’,” Micah said, laying on a thick Southern accent.<
br />
  “Yeah, yeah,” I said. “You just sounded eerily like my grandma.”

  She took the flowers. “I’ll take care of this.”

  “I think I got it from here,” I said to Andrew when she was gone. “The bathroom is literally ten steps away.”

  He hung his wet jacket on the coat rack by the door and dropped my shoes beneath it. “I think I can handle ten more steps. I made it this far.”

  We did our awkward dance to the bathroom, where he opened the door and led me in. There was a long counter and I leaned back up against it.

  “Here,” he said, “just let me.” He put his hands on my waist, and I wasn’t sure what he was trying to do until he lifted me onto the counter. I let out a little gasp. He offered me a wide smile, then shook his head, sending water spraying. I held up my hands with a squeal I hadn’t meant to release.

  He laughed and then squatted down, his hand brushing along my calf until it reached my ankle.

  Tingles spread up my leg all the way to my stomach. My cheeks went hot, and I leaned my head back against the mirror to try to keep that fact to myself. He wasn’t allowed to have this kind of effect on me.

  “Wow,” he said.

  “What?” I asked. Was he really going to call me out on the fact that I was blushing? He so would.

  “This is a decent-sized piece of glass.”

  I wiped at some water that was still dripping from my hair down my temple. “Oh. Yeah. Micah has Band-Aids in her just-in-case if you …”

  I trailed off because he was giving me a stare of disbelief. “You think a Band-Aid will work on this?”

  “Probably not.”

  He started opening the lower cupboards. “Maybe they keep a first aid kit in here.”

  “Actually, they do,” I said, remembering. I leaned over to the far side of the counter and opened the mirror cabinet. A white box with a red cross sat sideways on the first shelf. I plucked out the box and opened it. Inside I found some gauze pads and a roll of white tape along with little packets of ointment. I pulled out the supplies. “If you want to go get Micah, she can help me. You might get blood all over your nice pants.”

  He reached behind him, pulled a fancy towel off the rack, and draped it over his knee. “Would you stop trying to talk me out of helping you? I can be a nice person every now and again.”