Late to the Wedding

by Briggs, Laura

  “What’s the forecast?” she asked in an attempt to sound casual. She hung the dress in the otherwise empty closet, tucked the shopping bag below next to her carry on.

  “Rain. All week until Wednesday.” He clicked the set off, plunging them into awkward silence. A moment later, clearing his throat and rising from his slumped position. The cot’s springs made a squeaking sound in response.

  “So I guess you’re all set for tomorrow then?” he asked, with a nod to the filmy blue dress.

  “Of course.” She turned to face him, pulling the envelope from her handbag. “Six hundred dollars,” she said, placing it in his hand. “The remaining part of your fee for our journey.”

  Brian stared at the envelope, his brow darkening “A little early, isn’t it? I haven’t kept my end of the deal yet.” He released a slight laugh. “How do you know I’ll keep our agreement once you pay me off?”

  “I’ll take my chances,” she replied. “Besides, some of it’s late. I was supposed to give you half back in Tennessee, remember?”

  “Just hold onto it. You can pay me when we roll into Kingsley.” He shoved it back in her hand as he spoke, his fingers lingering against hers.

  Warmth rose in Evelyn’s cheeks, a reaction to his touch, perhaps, or the almost tender expression in his eyes. The psychologist’s words rushing back to her in a confused haze.

  Shaking the memory, she stuffed the envelope in his pocket. “Things will be too chaotic tomorrow. If you take it now, it’s one less thing on my to-do list.”

  Without giving him a chance to reply, she scooped the night clothes from her open luggage and swept inside the adjoining bathroom. Leaning against the closed door as a low sigh escaped her lips, one hand ruffling her already frazzled hair.

  Just stay here until he goes to sleep, a voice reasoned somewhere inside. Her fingers fumbling with the cap on her travel toothpaste, sending it skidding across the floor. What was wrong with her? Why was she growing obsessed with imagining that Brian felt something for her? Other than pity for a crazy woman, that is.

  As for herself, it was impossible to feel anything for him, except for a faint spark of attraction at most. Not with Jared’s letter tucked inside her handbag, the promise of his love forever inked in a few heartfelt lines. Lines that helped her shove aside the flurry of nerves and finish preparing for bed.

  But couldn’t explain why she stayed huddled on the edge of the bathtub, arms wrapped tight around her knees, long after the light had faded from the next room.

  Chapter Fourteen

  He couldn’t sleep.

  Brian rolled on his back, his eyes tracing the speckled pattern on the hotel room’s ceiling. The cot was uncomfortable but that shouldn’t be a problem after three days behind the wheel, with only the occasional cat nap to see him through. Something very different was responsible for this state of insomnia, and he didn’t have to guess too hard what it was.

  Faint stirring sounds drew his gaze across the room, where Evelyn lay beneath the comforter, her face partly hidden by layers of strawberry hair. She’d set the alarm clock for four a.m., apparently planning to surprise the would-be groom by breakfast. Would she realize her mistake the moment their eyes met across the platters of bacon and egg? Although he supposed this guy was more of a health type, sipping a fruit shake on the hotel veranda.

  Brian groaned and rubbed his face, turning back to the window. Cursing the sense of jealously that mingled with guilt. A sensation made worse by the presence of the thick money envelope in his jacket pocket.

  He slid it out and studied it in the darkness, weighing the chances of sneaking it inside her luggage without getting caught. Taking it seemed wrong, somehow, when he was more or less an accomplice in her future heartbreak.

  Why should you feel responsible, anyway? a voice chided in the back of his mind. She would have paid any driver any amount to take her there, all because she thinks it’s part of her destiny.

  He let his eyes wander back in her direction. A strange protective sense washing over him at the sight of the strawberry hair trailing across the pillow, the slender arms hugging the bulky comforter. Probably dreaming about a tender reunion with Jared.

  Closing his eyes to block out the sight, he tried to formulate a plan for tomorrow–a way to talk Evelyn out of this crazy, destined-to-fail road trip. His thoughts growing fuzzy as he practiced speeches about moving on and accepting reality. A tough sale for someone who believed the universe had written her love story.

  A slamming drawer brought him back from sleep. The sound of Evelyn bustling around in the room, a flood of lamp light blinding him as he opened his eyes. He blinked, squinting to see Evelyn stuffing things into an open bag.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked. Nearly falling off the cot as he tried to sit up.

  “It’s six a.m.,” she answered, her voice tense. “The alarm didn’t set right and we’re a whole two hours behind schedule.” She sprinted to the bathroom, carrying the familiar purse containing her makeup. Her voice was muffled by the shower when she yelled to him. “Better get all your stuff together. I still have to do my hair and pack and, of course, there’s four hours or so of driving…”

  He rubbed his neck as he eased from the cot, trying to recall the words of wisdom he came up with last night. But careful reasoning had been replaced by last-minute panic, and all he could think of were juvenile ways to stall the trip. Like pretending to lose his car keys or tinkering with the engine so it wouldn’t start.

  The view from the room’s window was overcast, the decorative shrubs rustling in the early morning wind. Maybe a freak storm would blow in and flood the roads, making travel impossible. Yeah, right. Unless, of course, their friendly hitchhiker was right, and this journey really was a target for bad karma.

  “The wedding isn’t until two o’clock, so there’s still time. We can reach Kingsley before lunch if we really hurry.” Evelyn had reappeared in a bathrobe, vigorously toweling her damp hair. “You can drop me at the plantation,” she added. “I’m sure they have a lobby I can wait in or else–”

  “I don’t think you should go.”

  The words escaping his mouth before he could stop them. His face flushing crimson as she stared open-mouthed, the towel growing motionless in her hands.

  “What did you say?” Her voice was shocked, a trace of suspicion growing in her eyes that made him wince.

  “Look, don’t–don’t get angry,” he said, gently. “I think you’re making a huge mistake. This guy doesn’t love you, Evelyn. And anyone but you could see it. ”

  When she didn’t speak, he felt compelled to explain more. Swallowing hard before saying, “He isn’t keeping those promises he made in the letter–which by the way, were conveniently cliché. If he meant any of them, he wouldn’t be marrying someone else. He would’ve come back to New York–”

  “I can’t believe this.” She laughed, a short mocking laugh that threatened to become a sob. “So you’re just bailing on me at the last-minute? After everything we went through, after I held up our end of the bargain?”

  “It’s not about the money.” He moved towards her, his gaze pleading with her to believe him. One hand reached out to touch her arm before the look on her face made him hesitate. “I don’t want you to get hurt. To find out you came all this way just be humiliated in front of a bunch of strangers...”

  “So that’s what you think–that I’ve got some kind of pathetic school girl crush?”

  “No, no,” he began, trying to form his thoughts into some form of coherency. “I don’t think that. I’m just afraid he doesn’t feel as strongly as you do.”

  “You don‘t know him,” she answered, coldly. “You don’t know anything about us. About our relationship, our past–” She yanked the blue dress from the closet, tears flashing in her eyes just before she turned away.

  “You’re right,” he answered, sounding tired. “I don’t know him.”

  She fished a cell phone from her pocket and began dialing a numbe
r. “I can take a cab–a different one–to Kingsley. That way you don’t have to worry about seeing me humiliated.”

  This last part said with a withering glare as she slammed the bathroom door behind her. Blocking him out, along with all the things he should have said to change her mind.

  *****

  The Backstreet Cab Company promised to have a driver at the hotel in fifteen minutes. Leaving Evelyn precious little time to pull herself together, styling her hair and sweeping blush across her flushed cheeks. Stepping inside the blue silk gown, she let her pajama bottoms and shirt pile in the floor. She scooped them up and carried them out, along with her makeup kit.

  Brian waited morosely in a chair by the window. Standing to confront her as she re-appeared, he jammed his hands in his pockets. “Evelyn please, just let me finish. I want you to be happy–”

  “Then why won’t you help me?” She stuffed the pajamas inside the suitcase, foregoing her usual packing regiment for the sake of speed and also because her rattled nerves made it impossible to focus.

  He moved close, his hand wrapping around hers. Stopping her in her tracks with the warmth of his touch, the intensity of his look. “You know this guy isn’t really the one for you. Come back to New York…”

  Evelyn’s heart wobbled, the response sticking in her throat. Her eyes moving to the bedspread, unable to hold his gaze. Scared to find out what other promises might be hidden in its depths.

  “What do you say?” he asked. “We could just–”

  The rest of his thought cut off by the shrill ring of the bedside telephone. “My cab,” Evelyn guessed, her voice barely more than a whisper. Her hand pulling away from his to finish zipping her suitcase. Trembling, she shouldered her bags and backed towards the door.

  “Evie, wait,” he urged.

  “Goodbye Brian.” She ducked out the door and made for the stairs. Never stopping until she reached the sidewalk, where the yellow vehicle waited, the driver’s face trained forward with boredom.

  Don‘t look back, she told herself. Her skin prickling with the sensation that he watched from the window above, his dark eyes still fastened on her with disappointment as she crawled into the cab’s backseat.

  “Dove’s Hollow–that’s quite a drive,” the cabbie chuckled, maneuvering the vehicle into the street. “It’ll cost extra, I’m afraid–”

  “Not a problem,” said Evelyn, arranging her luggage in the floor. “Just get me there as soon as you can, please.” Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, the urge to fidget unbearable. How could he turn on her like that?

  “You okay, ma’am?” the cabbie’s eyes studied her for a second in the rear view mirror.

  “Fine,” she said. Or I will be soon. Closing her eyes as she forced an image of Jared, his arms wrapped around her in an embrace moments after unveiling the antique console. Although it came less naturally then before, like a made-up picture rather than a memory.

  “Need the air adjusted?” the driver asked.

  “No, thank you.” She smoothed her wrinkle free skirt and turned her gaze to the window. Where grey skies hung ominously in the dawn, hinting that the rainy weather might arrive soon. More storms in her path to romance.

  By the time the sign for Kingsley appeared, it was sprinkling. Tiny rain droplets dotting the cab’s windshield, as Evelyn stirred restlessly in the seat. Traffic had been heavy and they were cutting it dangerously close, with the digital clock reading twelve forty-five. Her pulse pounded as a billboard advertising Dove’s Hollow came into sight. Proclaiming her destination to be five miles ahead.

  “Almost there,” the driver informed her. “Sounds like a beautiful place. Popular for weddings and parties. You going to one?”

  “One what?” she asked, feeling a surge of guilt. “Oh, yes, I guess I am.” Her voice was faint, her mind sucked into the future scenario that awaited at the plantation.

  Her mouth grew dry, her palms sweaty. They turned onto a winding narrow drive, the impressive antebellum style mansion now visible in the distance. Along with the rows of parked vehicles, the bride and groom car already decorated, with a ‘Just Married’ sign affixed to its back.

  “Do you take credit?” she asked, panicking for a moment at the lack of ready cash. Until she opened the handbag to find a large envelope.

  Brian’s fee. All six hundred dollars worth.

  As she stared at it, she felt a stinging sensation in her eyes, a tear streaked down her face a moment later. A sense of disbelief flooding her at the memory of what he said before–it wasn’t about the money.

  It was about me. As if the rambling philosophies of the hitchhiker were the ones that were right, at least in part.

  “Miss?” the cabbie prompted. “Are you going inside?”

  “What? Yes–yes, of course.” Wiping away the tear, she slipped two bills in his hand. Not waiting for change, she climbed from the backseat, luggage in tow. Drops of rain speckled her dress as she ran across the damp lawn, lightening flickering in the distance. Heart pounding, she pulled open the mansion’s heavy entrance door to reveal the elegant hall from the website. Empty except for the winding staircase and crystal chandelier.

  She heard a grandfather clock chime somewhere in the building. In thirty minutes, Jared was supposed to exchange vows with his fiancé.

  No time for crying; tears would streak her makeup. Thoughts of Brian– funny, friendly Brian–would make it impossible for her to focus on the real reason she came here. The love of her life as expressed in the words tucked in her handbag.

  The ceremony would be in the ballroom; she remembered its location perfectly from the blueprints on the website. Her heels echoed across the mahogany floors as they moved quickly down a series of dark connecting halls. Approaching the double doors to the ballroom, already wide open to accommodate decorators and planners moving to and fro.

  Pausing in the doorway, she took in the scene before her: row upon row of guests seated in folding chairs, a beautiful cherry mantle awash in candles and bouquets of orchids.

  And there, waiting for her in the midst of this splendor, was Jared.

  He stood in front of the mantle, dressed in a tuxedo, his brown hair swept casually across his forehead. His hands rubbing together in a nervous “tell” she recognized instantly, as he nodded to a passing caterer.

  A few heads turned in her direction as she passed the guest register and busy florists. The groom was too deeply absorbed in reading a piece of paper in his palm to notice her entrance.

  Legs wobbling, Evelyn approached.

  “Jared?” she said. Standing a few feet away, hands clasped before her. She was aware that the sunlight was streaming from the windows, casting a glow on her head and shoulders.

  He raised his eyes from the piece of paper with a casual smile that dissolved at the sight of her.

  “Evie?” he said. His voice was filled with shock.

  She smiled. “Hi,” she said. “It’s me. All the way from New York.” She shrugged her shoulders as she waited for him to return her smile. To react with a touch or a look to her presence.

  Instead, he looked confused. “You’re here?” he said. “Is Andy with you?” A little perplexed smile was forming on his face. “Anyway, it’s good to see you– welcome.” He moved towards her and gave her an awkward little hug.

  Andy? Her mind flashed back to her brother’s invitation, the one he’d mentioned over the phone. Jared was assuming she was his guest, traveling all the way from New York as a kind of girlfriend substitute for his best friend.

  He clasped her shoulders as he drew back. “You look nice,” he said. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen you. You haven’t changed a bit.”

  So long? A matter of months ago, they were engaged to be married, something that had seemed important at the time. Now Jared was gazing at her with a semi-blank look, as if the letter in her handbag was the furthest object from his mind’s reach.

  “Jared,” she began, licking her dry lips. “I wanted to come–to se
e you– because I found this.” She reached to open her handbag, her fingers trembling as a flush of confusion grew on her face. This was nothing like the scene she imagined.

  She drew the letter from inside, glancing up to see Jared’s vision was occupied with something else. Turning her head, she saw a woman framed in the doorway behind her. A beaded ivory dress, a slender figure within, dark curls framing an olive-skinned face. A simple coronet of white stones around her forehead.

  It was the bride-to-be. Standing with a small bouquet of white lilies as she gazed at Jared with a smile.

  “It’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding,” said Jared. His voice was soft as he spoke, laden with the tenderness Evelyn remembered from their days in New York. His eyes were alight with pure happiness as he gazed at the girl behind her.

  “No, it’s not,” the bride answered. Her eyes crinkled at the corner, as if she were on the verge of laughing. “It’s the very best luck in the world when two people are in love, you know.”

  Someone touched the bride’s elbow, a bossy, official-looking woman in a pants suit. After a quick exchange, they moved on from the doorway towards an adjoining table, where Evelyn glimpsed a tall mirror and divan through the half-open door.

  She turned towards Jared again, seeing the hand holding the slip of paper trembling. She realized his vows were written on it; Jared’s slanting handwriting as visible there as it was on the letter her own fingers clutched.

  Do something. But there was nothing to do. She knew that now. One look at Jared’s face proved it for her, more so than any of Brian’s words.

  He drew a deep breath. “See you after the ceremony, Evie,” he said, touching her arm. “Give my best to Andy, okay?” He moved past her, towards a small crowd of men in suits, undoubtedly the groom’s side of the wedding party.

  It occurred to her that he never even asked what it was she held in her hand, the reason why she was here. He never even waited for her to answer the question about Andy’s presence, taking it for granted that he already knew her response. The same way he claimed he always knew her.