by Dana Corbit
“Okay, buddy, it’s time.”
Instead of asking “for what?” as I was tempted to, Sam popped down from his seat and followed his dad into the men’s room. When the pair reemerged minutes later, the boy’s face was scrubbed clean, and he was dressed in an identical polo shirt to the stained one he’d been wearing before. Even his hair had been combed into place.
Sam pulled away from his dad and climbed back into the chair next to me. He scrunched his face into a nasty look. “My hair looks stupid.”
“You look great.” I brushed my fingers through his damp hair and looked up at his father. “What an amazing transformation.”
“Not amazing,” Luke answered, though he was clearly pleased that I thought so. “We’re just prepared.” He held up the canvas bag, where he must have put the soiled shirt.
Marcus waved a hand in Luke’s direction as Luke returned to his seat. “Our son took the Boy Scout motto, ‘Be Prepared,’ to heart when it comes to parenting. Always ready with wet wipes and extra clothes. Probably has a kitchen sink somewhere in that bag.”
At his father’s challenge, Luke took a peek inside it. “Nope. But there are bandages, antibiotic ointment, liquid antihistamine and meat tenderizer.” He must have seen my confused expression because he added, “The last two are for bee stings.”
“As I said, always prepared.” Marcus’s deep laughter filled the room.
When I looked up again, I found Luke watching me, his gaze lingering. I should have turned away—I knew that—but I felt pinned under the intensity of his study.
At the reverberating thunk of a portable microphone, I jerked the way I used to when my mother caught me sneaking snacks before dinner. Looking away from Luke, I glanced guiltily at his parents, but their attention was on the portly, white-haired man who stood with the microphone in his hand.
“Hi, everyone. I’m Tom Wilder, the best man for this little shindig—last time and this one. I don’t know why, but this guy wanted me back again.” He paused to pat Jack Hudson on the shoulder.
“If there’s a third time, I might want to get that young Orlando Bloom to play my role since he looks a lot more like the original than this snow-topped version.”
The best man got the laugh he was going for, but I had a hard time picturing the old Santa Claus character as ever looking like any of Hollywood’s leading men. The smile pulling on Luke’s lips suggested he had a similar theory.
“Are you sure you don’t mean Andy Rooney?” Marcus called out, earning his own round of laughter.
“Hey, stem the chatter from the peanut gallery,” Jack called out but in a genial tone.
Marcus raised both hands in apology, still chuckling.
Tom cleared his throat and started again. “I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time for this tomorrow, but I wanted to be the first to toast to the still-happy couple.”
My uncle wrapped his arm around his bride. “We’ve got a lot to be happy about, old friend.”
“Well, are you going to let me finish this or not?” Tom asked him.
Jack waved a hand to tell him to continue.
“Thanks.” Tom shook his head as he gripped his glass of iced tea. “As I was saying—again—I wanted to offer a toast. So let’s lift our glasses to honor our friends Jack and Eleanor.”
“To Jack and Eleanor” came a chorus of voices, followed by an instrumental selection provided by the clinking of iced tea and lemonade glasses along with porcelain coffee cups. Following a round of applause, Eleanor stepped forward and offered directions for the next day’s ceremony.
Sam leaned close to me and did his four-year-old imitation of a whisper, which really was just a shout cupped between two little hands. “Do you get to go to the wedding tomorrow?”
I nodded but pressed a finger to my lips, trying to hush him.
“It’s going to be on the beach.”
Pulling Sam into my lap, I cuddled him and spoke in a whisper much quieter than his. “I know. It will be fun.”
My own words surprised me. It was first time I’d thought anything remotely positive about this weekend’s event. Agony. Misery. Now those were words I had associated with my participation in my aunt and uncle’s vows renewal ceremony. But fun?
I shrugged. Maybe it would be. Sam would be there, after all, and that little boy had enough energy to entertain us all day long. But I had the idea that part of my budding excitement about tomorrow’s events had to do with having another chance to see the little boy’s father.
I frowned as I smoothed my hands down the filmy overskirt of my pale yellow bridesmaid’s dress and paced along the wall of windows where my aunt’s house spread itself open for a landscape view of Lake Michigan. Mine was a bridesmaid’s gown rather than a flower girl’s dress because formal-wear designers never planned on almost-thirty-year-old flower girls. Hoped against them, I would guess.
As I lowered my gaze to the oversize basket of daisies my family members expected me to carry, I decided that the dressmakers had a good reason for committing age discrimination. A grown woman probably looked like a baby elephant while sprinkling flowers in the bride’s path.
“Oh good, you’re still here,” Aunt Eleanor said as she walked up behind me. “Have you seen Princess around? I haven’t seen her all morning.”
“Um, I saw her with Uncle Jack earlier.” I didn’t mention that he’d been this close to having to pry the cat’s talons out of my leg when my only crime was to sneak past to get a cup of coffee in the kitchen. Okay, maybe the furry monster’s claw attack was really only a threatening crouch and spit, but you get the picture.
“I should go look for her. She’s probably hungry and thirsty. Maybe she got out and—”
I shook my head to interrupt her. “I’m sure she’s fine. Uncle Jack told me he was going to feed her. Now she’s probably full and happily napping under a bed.” I could only hope it wasn’t mine.
“She could be hiding, too. She hates crowds.”
And everything else from what I could tell, but I only said, “That’s probably it. We’ll track her down right after the ceremony, but you need to get ready.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
My aunt looked regal in white layers of cascading lace that fell to a tea-length hemline. She wore no veil, instead had pulled back her hair, with baby’s breath woven into tiny braids at her temples. She turned her back so I could finish closing her zipper.
“You make a beautiful bride.” I wrapped my arms around her middle from behind and squeezed, careful to avoid getting makeup on her dress. “So you chose white?” I tried and failed to keep my voice level as I asked that one.
Eleanor answered with a girlish giggle. “Now I don’t want any Miss Manners comments about which brides should be wearing white. I wore an ivory gown the first time, so I wanted to try something different. Besides I didn’t want to wear a cream-colored dress and match the sand.”
“Wouldn’t want you to disappear on your wedding day.”
“Exactly. You look pretty wonderful yourself today.”
“That’s thanks to you for not choosing periwinkle again.”
Eleanor stepped to the huge mirror on the great room wall to check her makeup. “Better thank Yvonne for that. She told me if I picked that color again I would have to find another matron of honor.”
Outside, crowd members were beginning to take their seats on white folding chairs lined in rows in the sand. A few of the groomsmen milled about in tuxedos, seating guests, but the particular tuxedo-clad guest I was looking for was nowhere to be seen.
“Do I thank Yvonne for getting to go barefoot, as well?” I lifted the hem of my own tea-length dress and curled my bare, pale-painted toes in the carpet.
“Nope. That was my Jack’s idea. He suggested the wedding on the beach and the barefoot plan.”
I lowered my hem. “Remind me to kiss him later.”
“As long as I get to kiss him first.” Eleanor patted her hair once more while examining her image
in the mirror. “Let’s go. I’m ready to get this thing started.”
As we exited through the side door, I resisted the urge to reach up and pat my hair that I had curled and then left loose for the occasion. It shouldn’t have mattered what Luke thought about my appearance, but I wouldn’t waste time trying to convince myself that it didn’t.
In fact, just the thought of him had that same nervous tension flowing through me that I’d felt every time I’d caught him watching me last night. It was an embarrassing reaction, I realized, since he was probably only watching me to keep an eye on his son. I didn’t know what it said about me that I was getting keyed up when Luke wasn’t even around, but the word pathetic did come to mind.
I straightened my shoulders and pushed my unproductive thoughts aside as we descended the stairs to the lower deck where a few of the bridesmaids and groomsmen had gathered.
“There you are,” Yvonne said, stepping forward to hug her best friend. “Jack was worried you were standing him up at the altar.”
“Not on his life,” Eleanor said with a hearty laugh. “He’s not going to get rid of me yet.”
“Do we have everyone now?” Yvonne asked, taking control of the situation in her role as matron of honor.
We all turned to glance at the makeshift bridal chapel, with its rows of chairs, simple lectern and floral arrangements and speakers on platforms. Sam was standing in one of the chairs and waving madly at me until his grandpa wrangled him back into his seat.
Order was temporary at best as the youngster flipped around in his chair, sticking his legs through the hole in the back. I waved at him and mouthed a hello, but the little flirt one-upped me by blowing me a kiss.
Careful not get lipstick on my hand that would wind up on my dress, I touched my fingers to my mouth and tossed out an elaborately blown kiss. What I hadn’t expected, though, was that someone would step between my original target and me.
Luke. It took me several seconds before I even remembered to lower the hand that hung suspended next to my face.
He recovered more quickly than I did, smiling as he trod through the sand toward the rest of the wedding party.
From the pictures, I knew he’d been a cute kid in a tuxedo all those years ago, but the man wearing the white tuxedo jacket and black bow tie and cummerbund this time was a cross between a fairy-tale prince and a hunky beach volleyball player. Even his bare feet beneath his black trousers just made it appear as if he was going for casual chic.
“Happy wedding day, everyone.” He took the time to exchange greetings with each member of the wedding party. When he finally reached me, he winked.
“Well, don’t you look like a sunny day in that dress,” he said when he stepped closer to me.
His gaze settled on my hair that at the moment was already streaming across my face. I tucked it behind my ear. Maybe wearing it loose hadn’t been such a good idea after all.
“You probably say that to all the girls you’re partnered with in a wedding party.”
Luke drew his eyebrows together and appeared to ponder my comment before he answered. “Yes, I believe I’ve said that to every woman who’s been my partner in a wedding.”
“Been in a lot of weddings, have you?” I just couldn’t help carrying the joke a bit further.
“Just two, and in the other one, they paired me with the bride.”
“Oh,” I said as the joke fell flat. I was tempted to allow dated images of myself as an ill-fated bride to invade the moment, but with effort, I shut down Memory Lane.
Luke’s gaze was on me when I rejoined the moment, and his knowing expression told me he had an idea where I’d traveled during my mental intermission.
“How about we don’t go there today?” he said. “How about we try to have as much fun as Jack and Eleanor will this afternoon and save the bittersweet memories for another time?”
My relief came out as an audible sigh that made him grin again. “Sounds like a great idea to me.”
Yvonne pressed between us then, looking back and forth and wearing a strange expression. “Hey, you two, there’ll be plenty of time for socializing later. Right now we need to get this wedding over with, so get in line.”
Luke put his arm around his mother’s shoulder. “Okay, Mom, but don’t you want to check first to see if I need to use the little boys’ room?”
She tilted her head so she could look up at him and lifted an eyebrow. “Well…do you?”
“Uh, no,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’m good.”
Yvonne blew out an exasperated breath and turned to me in a conspiratorial pose. “Children. They never really grow up.”
“Not if we can help it,” Luke quipped. Again he winked at me, and this time I grinned.
The sound operator picked this moment to cue up “The Wedding March,” so I joined Luke and the three bridesmaids as we arranged ourselves for our march down the sandy aisle. I wouldn’t have to worry about doing that silly step-together-step bridal march thing. All I had to do was manage to get down the aisle without falling over in the sand, and all would be well.
Arriving from the north side of the house, an anxious-looking Uncle Jack and his groomsmen took their places on the right side of the lectern.
This wasn’t a real wedding—we all knew that—but the fact that it wasn’t only made Jack’s nervousness that much more endearing. He looked the part of the terrified groom, excited by the prospect of a future with this woman and yet convinced that it was all too good to be true.
Suddenly I felt ashamed I’d ever been reluctant to participate in this event. Jack and Eleanor had an amazing relationship, and I couldn’t help feeling privileged to be a part of celebrating their continuing love story.
I watched as each of the bridesmaids proceeded down the aisle, reiterating the statement of friendship they’d made for my aunt and uncle twenty-five years before. Luke was next, a tall and proud representation of the continuing bond between his mother and my aunt as lifelong friends.
And then it was my turn. With a pride that I never could have understood as a child, I made my own barefoot march down the sandy aisle, paving the way for the bride with a trail of daisies. I felt none of the pain I had expected over my own scars, but only joy over a marriage that had already beat the odds and held nothing but promise for the future.
Once I took my place near the floral arrangement and the silver-haired minister invited the crowd to stand, I turned to see Aunt Eleanor making her entrance. Though there were lines on her face and more softness about her hips than the first time she made this journey, love shone in her eyes, as I’m sure it had the first time. Her gaze remained on her groom alone with each step she took.
My heart squeezed, and my eyes burned as these images shimmered in front of me. Though I’d always frowned on women who cried at weddings, right now I didn’t care. This was how love was supposed to be. This was what God intended when He created marriage.
Would I ever know love like my aunt and uncle had experienced? No, I couldn’t allow myself to worry about that now. No matter what the future held for me, just having the opportunity to witness love like this gave me hope.
Chapter Four
By the time the tour bus rolled to a stop again in front of my relatives’ home, the lake was swallowing one of those much-anticipated, burnished-orange sunsets, and I felt as if I’d run a marathon—in heels.
Once I had my feet on solid ground again, I slipped out of the offending strappy sandals. I couldn’t hold the shoes solely to blame for my weary body, though, since I’d only worn them during the dinner and mingling portion of the evening. Apparently, at the Mantua Yacht Club the no shirt, no shoes, no service rule applied even for receptions following barefoot weddings.
“Bet you can’t catch me.” Sam snatched one of the shoes that had been dangling from my fingers and took off toward the house.
I could only watch him listlessly, my impetus to get up and go already gotten up and gone. “I bet you’re right,” I cal
led after him.
“Just one day, and the kid already wore you out?”
I didn’t need the tingling on the back of my neck to tell me who’d come off the bus behind me. His light musky cologne drifted over my shoulder as the breeze tickled my ear. Bending my neck and rubbing my ear against my shoulder, I answered without looking back.
“It’s been a long day. That’s all.”
“Long but surprisingly fun, wasn’t it?”
At first, I made an affirmative sound in my throat, but then remembering how little I appreciated Luke’s nonanswers, I turned to him just as he caught up with me. Luke appeared far more comfortable now that he’d removed his bow tie and rolled up his sleeves, his tuxedo jacket draped over his arm.
“Yeah, it was fun.” More fun than I’d had any right to ask for, especially considering how I’d dreaded the event.
“Whenever you got a breather from being chased by my son, you mean?”
“No, the whole day was great. Partly because of your son.” And partly because of his father, but I didn’t figure it would be wise to add that. We would just end up back at square one, where Luke was convinced I had something to do with my aunt’s and his mother’s matchmaking scheme. Still, whether I admitted it or not, I’d laughed more today when Luke was the one telling the jokes.
“Which part did you like best, when he spilled the whole bottle of steak sauce on his plate or when he smeared wedding cake on my face?”
The memory of Luke with globs of white buttercream frosting in his sideburns, like a premature case of especially tasty gray hair, brought a smile to my lips.
Luke glanced sidelong at me. “Don’t answer that.”
His hand moved to the neatly trimmed line of hair in front of his ear. It had to be stiff by now.
“Come on, Luke. Sam was adorable today.”
“Adorable. Right. No wonder some animals eat their young.”
Okay, maybe he’d been a little naughty, but nothing to warrant being served up with barbecue sauce, in my opinion. In fact, Sam’s single-minded pursuit of my attention, from squeezing in next to me in the buffet line to saving me a seat by him on the bus, had been downright endearing. He was as sweet and eager to please as a child of my own might have been.
