'Tis The Season: Under the Christmas TreeMidnight ConfessionsBackward Glance

by Robyn Carr

  “Go ahead,” she said. “Shoot me. It might be easier.”

  “Sunny,” he said, breathless. “What are you doing here?”

  “I live here,” she said. She looked down at the bouquet she still held. Why had she clung to that? Because it was sentimental or because it cost 175 dollars and she couldn’t return it? “You can’t have done this to me,” she said almost weakly. “You can’t have. You must have a brain tumor or something.”

  He walked into the room. “I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “I kept thinking that by the time we got to the actual date, the wedding date, I’d be ready. I really thought that.”

  “Ready for what?” she asked, nonplussed.

  “Ready for that life, that commitment forever, that next stage, the house, the children, the fidelity, the—”

  She shook her head, frowning in confusion. “Wait a minute, we haven’t found a house we like and can afford, we agreed we’re not ready for children yet and I thought we already had commitment...” His chin dropped. “Fidelity?” she asked in a whisper.

  He lifted his eyes and locked with hers. “See, I haven’t really done anything wrong, not really. I kept thinking, I’m not married yet! And I thought by the time—”

  “Did you sleep with other women?” she asked, rising to her feet.

  “No! No! I swear!”

  She didn’t believe him for a second! “Then what did you do?”

  “Nothing much. I partied a little. Had drinks, you know. Danced. Just went out and sometimes I met girls, but it didn’t get serious or anything.”

  “But it did get to meeting, dancing, buying drinks. Talking on the phone? Texting little messages? Maybe having dinner?”

  “Maybe some of that. A couple of times.”

  “Maybe kissing?”

  “Only, maybe, twice. At the most, twice.”

  “My God, have I been brain damaged? To not know?”

  “When were we together?” he asked. “We had different nights off, we were like roommates!”

  “You could have fixed that easy! You could have changed your nights off! I couldn’t! People don’t get married or have fiftieth anniversary parties on Tuesday nights!”

  “And they also don’t go out for fun on Tuesday nights! I guess I’m just a bad boy, but I enjoy a ball game or a run on a bar or club on a weekend when people are out! And you were never available on a weekend! We talked about it, we fought about it! You said it would never change, not while you took pictures.”

  “This isn’t happening,” she said. “You stood up two hundred wedding guests and a trip to Aruba because I work weekends?”

  “Not exactly, but... Well... Look,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m twenty-six. I thought you were probably the best thing for me, the best woman I could ever hook up with for the long haul except for one thing—I’m not ready to stop having fun! And you are—you’re all business. Even that wedding—Jesus, it was like a runaway train! Planning that astronomical wedding was like a second job for you and I never wanted anything that big, that out of control! Sunny, you’re way too young to be so old.”

  That was one way to deliver what she could only describe as a punch to the gut. Of all the things she thought she knew about him, she hadn’t given enough credence to the fact that even at twenty-six, he was younger than she. More immature. He wanted to have fun. “And you couldn’t tell me this last month? Or last week? Or yesterday?” She stared at him, waiting.

  “Like I said, I thought I’d work it out in my head, be ready in time.”

  Talk about shock and awe. “You’re an infant. How did I not realize what a liability that could be?”

  “Excuse me, but I lay my life on the line every day! I go to work in a bulletproof vest! And you’re calling me an infant?”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry, Glen. You’re an infant with a dick. With a little, tiny brain in it.” She took a breath. “Pack a bag. Take some things and see if you can find a friend who will take you in for a few days. I’ll move home to my mom and dad’s as soon as I can. I hope you can make the rent alone. If I recall, I was making more money with my boring old weekend job than you were with your bulletproof vest.”

  Sunny sat back on the bed, then she lay down. Still gowned in a very big wedding dress, holding her valuable bouquet at her waist, Sunny closed her eyes. She heard Glen rustling around, finding clothes, his shaving kit, the essentials. Her mind was completely occupied with thoughts like, will the airline refund the money for the first-class tickets because the groom didn’t show? How much nonrefundable money had her parents wasted on a wedding that never happened? Would the homeless of L.A. be eating thousands of dollars worth of exquisite food discarded by the caterer? And since her name was also on the lease to this town house, would fun-man Glen stiff her there, too? Hurt her credit rating and her business?

  “Sunny?” Glen said to her. He was standing over her. “Wake up. You look so... I don’t know... Funereal or something. Like a dead body, all laid out.” He winced. “In a wedding dress...”

  She opened her eyes, then narrowed them at him. “Go. Away.”

  * * *

  Sunny gave her head a little shake to clear her mind and looked up to see Drew standing in front of her. He held a glass of wine toward her. “I salted the steps, got you a wine and me a beer. Now,” he said, sitting down opposite her. “About this photography of yours...”

  “It happened a year ago,” she said.

  “Huh? The picture taking happened a year ago?” he asked.

  “The wedding that never was. Big wedding—big party. We’d been together three years, engaged and living together for one, and all of a sudden he didn’t show. I was all dressed up in a Vera Wang, two hundred guests were waiting, little sausages simmering and stuffed mushrooms warming, champagne corks popping...and no groom.”

  Total shock was etched into his features. “Get out!” he said in a shocked breath.

  “God’s truth. His best man told me he couldn’t do it. He wasn’t ready.”

  Suddenly Drew laughed, but not unkindly, not of humor but disbelief. He ran his hand through his hair. “Did he ever say why?”

  She had never told anyone what he’d said, it was too embarrassing. But for some reason she couldn’t explain, she spit it right out to Drew. “Yeah. He wasn’t done having fun.”

  Silence reigned for a moment. “You’re not serious,” Drew finally said.

  “Deadly. It was all so stunning, there was even a small newspaper article about it.”

  “And this happened when?” he asked.

  “One year ago. Today.”

  Drew sat back in his chair. “Whoa,” was all he could say. “Well, no wonder you’re in a mood. Fun?” he asked. “He wasn’t done having fun?”

  “Fun,” she affirmed. “That’s the best explanation he could come up with. He liked to party, go to clubs, flirt, dance, whatever... He’s a Saturday-night kind of guy and just wasn’t ready to stop doing that and guess what? Photographers work weekends—weddings, baptisms, et cetera. Apparently I’m a real drag.”

  Drew rubbed the back of his neck. “I must be really backward then. I always thought having the right person there for you, listening to your voice mails and texting you to pick up her dry cleaning or saying she’d pick up yours, someone who argued with you over what sushi to bring home or what went on the pizza, someone who would come to bed naked on a regular basis—I always thought those things were fun. Sexy and fun.”

  She grinned at him. “You find dry cleaning sexy?”

  “I do,” he said. “I really do.” And then they both laughed.

  Four

  Sunny sat forward, elbows on her knees, a smile on her face and said, “I can’t wait to hear more about this—the things you find sexy. I mean pizza toppings and dry cleaning? Do go on.�
�

  He took a sip of his beer. “There is a long list, Miss Sunshine, but let’s be clear—I am a boy. Naked tops the list.”

  “Yes, there are some things all you boys seem to have in common. But if I’ve learned anything it’s that showing up naked regularly apparently isn’t quite enough.”

  “Pah—for men with no imagination maybe. Or men who don’t have to push a month’s worth of work into a day.”

  “Well, then...?” she asked. “What?”

  “I like working out a budget you’ll never stick to. There’s something about planning that together, it’s cool. Not the checkbook, that’s not a two-person job—it’s dicey. No two people add and subtract the same, did you know that? And the chore list, that turns me on like you wouldn’t believe. Picking movies—there’s a real skill to that. If you can find a girl who likes action, then you can negotiate three action movies to every chick flick, and you can eventually work up to trading chick flicks for back rubs.” He leaned close to whisper. “I don’t want this to get out, but I actually like some of the chick flicks. I’m picky, but I do like some.”

  “Shopping?” she asked.

  “I have to draw the line there,” he said firmly. “That just doesn’t do it for me. If I need clothes or shoes I take care of it as fast as I can. I don’t like to screw around with that. It’s boring and I have no skills. But I get that you have to look at least half decent to get a girl to like you.” He smiled. “A pretty girl like you,” he added.

  “Then how do you manage that? Because tonight, you weren’t even aware there was a party and you don’t look that terrible.”

  “Why, thank you,” he said, straightening proudly. “I either ask my oldest sister, Erin, to dress me—the one who made the lean-to into a showplace—or failing that I just look for a gay guy working in clothing.”

  She burst out laughing, not realizing that Nate, Annie, Jack and a few others turned to look. “That’s awful, shame on you!”

  “Gimme a break—I have gay friends. You can say anything you want about them but the common denominator is—they have fashion sense. At least the guys I know do.”

  “Then why not ask a gay friend to go shopping with you?”

  “I don’t want to mislead anyone,” he said with a shrug.

  “Sure you’re not just a little self-conscious about your...um...somewhat flexible status?”

  He leaned so close she could inhale the Michelob on his breath. His eyes locked on hers. “Not flexible about that. Ab. So. Lutely. Not.” Then he smiled. “I only swing one way.”

  She couldn’t help it, she laughed loudly. Happily.

  “You gotta stop that, my sunshine. You’re supposed to be miserable. You were left at the altar by a juvenile idiot a year ago tonight. We’re grieving here.”

  “I know, I know,” she said, fanning her face. “I’m going to get back into depression mode in a sec. Right now, tell me another thing you find impossibly sexy, and keep in mind we’ve already covered that naked thing.”

  “Okay,” he said. He rolled his eyes skyward, looking for the answer. “Ah!” he said. “Her lingerie in the bathroom! It’s impossible. Hanging everywhere. A guy can’t even pee much less brush his teeth or get a shower. I hate that!” And there was that wicked grin again. “Very sexy.”

  “Okay, I’m a little confused here. You hate it? And it’s very sexy?”

  “Well, you have to be a guy to get this. A guy goes into the bathroom—which is small like the rest of your house or apartment until you’re at least an evil senior resident—and you put your face into all the satin and lace hanging all over the place. You rub it between your palms, wear a thong on your head for a minute, have a couple of reality-based fantasies, and then you yell, ‘Penny! Get your underwear out of here so I can get a shower! I’m late.’”

  She put her hands over her face and laughed into them.

  His eyes glowed as he looked at her. “Be careful, Sunny. You’re enjoying yourself.”

  She reached across the short space that separated them and gave him a playful slug. “So are you! And your breakup was more recent.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  He was about to say but not more traumatic. At least he wasn’t left in a Vera Wang gown hiding from two hundred wedding guests. But the door to the bar opened and in came the local Riordans—Luke, Shelby and little Brett, their new baby. Luke was holding Brett against his chest, tucked under his jacket. Drew jumped to his feet. “Hey! Son of a gun!” Then he grabbed Sunny’s hand and pulled her along. He turned to her and said, “Kind of family. I’ll explain.”

  Leaving Sunny behind him a bit, he grabbed Shelby in a big hug and kissed her cheek. He grabbed Luke, careful of the baby and Luke scowled at him and said, “Do not kiss me!”

  “All right, but gee, I’ll have to really hold myself back,” Drew said with a laugh. He winked at Sunny before he pulled her forward. “Meet Sunny, here visiting her uncle. Sunny, remember I told you about the sister who turned the shack into a showplace? That’s Erin—and while she was up here finding herself, she also found Luke’s brother Aiden. They’re engaged. That makes me almost related to these guys and little Brett.”

  Shelby reached out to shake Sunny’s hand. “I heard you’d be visiting, Sunny. We know Nate and Annie. I sometimes ride with Annie.”

  “Hey, I thought you said you weren’t coming out tonight,” Jack said from behind the bar. “Baby sleeping and all that.”

  “We should’a thought that through a little better,” Luke said. “Brett prefers to sleep during the day and is a regular party animal at night.”

  Mel moved closer and said, “Aww, let me have him a minute.” She pulled the little guy from Luke and indeed, his eyes were as big as saucers—he was wide-awake at nine-thirty. Mel laughed at him. “Well, aren’t you something!”

  Shelby said to Sunny, “Mel delivered him. She gets really invested in her babies.”

  “Let’s have your resolutions,” Jack said. “Then I’ll set you up a drink and you can graze the buffet table.”

  “What resolutions?” Luke wanted to know.

  Jack patted the fishbowl full of slips of paper on the bar. “Everyone has contributed their number one, generic resolution. You know the kind—quit smoking, lose ten pounds, work out everyday. We’re going to do something fun with them at midnight. A kind of game.”

  “I don’t do games,” Luke said.

  “Lighten up, it’s not like charades or anything. It’s more like cracking open a fortune cookie.”

  “I don’t do resolutions,” Luke said.

  “I’ll do his,” Shelby said, sitting up at the bar. “I have some ideas.”

  “Easy, baby,” Luke said. “You know you don’t like me too perfect. Rough around the edges caught you in the first place.”

  Shelby glanced over her shoulder and smiled at him. Nate, who was sitting beside her, leaned in and pretended to read her resolution. “No more boys’ nights out or dancing girls?” he said. “Shelby, isn’t that a little strict for our boy Luke?”

  Luke just laughed. So did Shelby.

  Sunny took it all in. She had always liked to be around couples who were making that whole couple thing work—understanding each other, give and take, good humor, physical attraction. She’d done a lot of weddings. They weren’t all easy and pleasant. A lot of the couples she photographed she wouldn’t give a year.

  Drew whispered in her ear. “Shelby is a full-time nursing student. She and Luke run a bunch of riverside cabin rentals and while Shelby goes to school and studies, Luke not only takes care of the cabins and house, but Brett, too. I think dancing girls are way in the past for Luke.”

  “Hmm,” she said. She went for her camera and started taking pictures again, and while she did so she listened. Sunny could see things through the lens that were harder to se
e with the naked eye. For her, anyway.

  She learned that Vanessa and Paul Haggerty were more conventional. She was home with the children while he was a general contractor who did most of the building and renovating around Virgin River, including the reconstruction of that old cabin for Drew’s sister, the cabin Drew was staying in. Abby Michaels, the local doctor’s wife, had a set of toddler twins and was overseeing the building of a house while her husband, Cam, was at the clinic or on call 24/7. The situation was a bit different for Mel and Jack Sheridan. The local midwife was always on call and Jack had a business that was open about sixteen hours a day—they had to shore each other up. They did a lot of juggling of kids and chores—Jack did all the cooking and Mel all the cleaning. If all the jokes could be believed, apparently Mel could burn water. Preacher and Paige worked together to raise their kids, run the kitchen and keep the accounting books at the bar. Brie and Mike Valenzuela had a child and two full-time jobs—she was an attorney, he was the town cop. And Sunny already knew that Uncle Nate and Annie were partners in running the Jensen’s Clinic and Stable. Their wedding was scheduled for May.

  Lots of interesting and individual methods of managing the realities of work, family, relationships. She wondered about a couple who would split up because one of them wasn’t available to party on Saturday nights. She already knew that wasn’t an issue among these folks.

  While she observed and listened, she snapped pictures. She instructed Mel to hold the Riordan baby over her head and lower him slowly to kiss his nose. She got a great shot of Jack leaning on the bar, braced on strong arms spread wide, wearing a half smile as he watched his wife with a baby she had delivered, a proud glow in his eyes. Preacher was caught with his huge arms wrapped around his little wife, his lips against her head. Paul Haggerty put a quarter in the jukebox and danced his wife around the bar. Cameron Michaels was clinking glasses with Abby Michaels and couldn’t resist nuzzling her neck—Sunny caught that. In fact, she caught many interesting postures, loving poses. Not only was there a lot of affection in the room, but plenty of humor and happiness. God, she never used to be the type that got dragged down.