“We need to talk.” That wasn’t one of his best intros. If he could have kicked himself he would have. Nerves.
When he arrived at her door he smelled the pungent odor of melting cheese. Last night had been special – the succulent chicken dripping in sauce. Yes, she was a super cook, and not just for Nachos. She claimed the recipe was from her Grandma, and it was a secret. But, tonight he only smelled her Nachos.
Rob settled himself on the red sofa and started to stuff his face. “Could we pray first, please?” she said.
“Sorry. Nervous.”
“Why?”
“Gotta share. Should have a long time ago.”
Cindy adjusted the throw pillows behind them and settled herself on the sofa deliberately at the other end from Rob. Placing her hands on her knees, “Well?”
“There is more about me than AA.” He looked over to see her expression. Bewildered? Scared? This would not be easy.
“Cindy, do you know what MS is?”
“Not really. I know it’s a disease, a debilitating one. So I’ve heard.” She stopped and stared at him, like he had been caught in a time warp and was floating in putrid, decaying air. Finally, after a long, loud whoosh of a breath, she said, “You got it?”
~
Cindy wrung her hands, like Great Grammy Emma did when she was troubled, or praying. Somehow she came to her senses and shimmied over on the sofa to Rob. He didn’t move a muscle, sat like a marble statue. She touched his leg. Not a quiver.
“Explain please.”
He shifted a bit and placed his hand on hers. That was a start.
“It’s a progressive disease. Sometimes not very debilitating at all. So, there is hope. Do you remember the time at the shop I cut myself?”
She nodded. “Was that one of those times? Because …”
“Maybe, probably. Can’t be sure. That is one of the mysteries of Multiple Sclerosis. It could just have been a fluke accident, or it could have been because I had minimal muscle control.”
“How would we know either way?”
He realized she had said ‘we,’ and that gave him hope.
“We wouldn’t for sure. Fortunately, I’ve had very few instances. Very few,” he repeated firmly.
She gripped his hand. “There’s no cure, is there?” Her eyes glistened as she looked him square in the face. “How did you discover you have it?”
“One day about two years ago Brad and Nick and I had been surfing at the Point. It was very early and bitter cold. I kept losing my balance walking back to the car, sure it was the mushy sand.”
He closed his eyes and heard his friends’ voices again.
“Stumble bum!”
“I thought you were a great dancer, Rob. And, you can’t even navigate the beach.”
“Give us the leash of your board, and we’ll tow you.”
Rob tilted his head back and closed his eyes. “They laughed and slapped my shoulders; guy stuff. I, too, thought it was just a quirk, that my muscles were reacting to the extreme cold.”
Cindy nodded, “But?”
“My balance was fine the next few days. Then, about a week later, I stumbled getting into my car after an AA meeting. So embarrassing. The guys rushed to me, and Emily insisted I blow my breath in her face. The worst part was that they didn’t trust me, thought I had been drinking.”
Cindy squeezed his hand harder. “Go on. What happened next?
“I didn’t start my car right away … sat there for maybe ten minutes with the motor running. What scared me more than the balance issue was my left eye got blurry. Then, it went away and I drove home, slowly.” He clung to Cindy’s hand more tightly. She winced.
“Sorry. Sometimes I can’t tell how strong, or how weak, I am. Comes and goes. But, the balance thing came back a few weeks later.” He looked into her eyes. “I was scared. I thought maybe I had a brain tumor.
“With Mom’s insistence, I went to the family doc who sent me to a neurologist who set me up for an MRI. I was so clueless, and so scared, I didn’t even ask why, or what the docs were looking for.”
Cindy nodded again. Her eyes were so wide they almost took over her face. “So?”
“Turns out they were looking for plaques on the spinal cord.” He lowered his head. “They found them.”
“And?” She kept asking one syllable questions. He assumed she was in a state of shock. After all, he was throwing all this at her the night before they would be officially engaged. What a jerk he was!
“I was in the early stages of MS.” There, he’d finally explained it. Hadn’t he?
~
Cindy rubbed the empty space on the ring finger of her left hand again. Tomorrow it would never be empty again … if. Could she handle this situation with Rob? Forever? For a lifetime?
She reminded herself about the wedding vows, the through sickness and in health, and the until death do us part, and that no one but God knows our future. Holding her cellphone instead of a printed Bible, she pushed the prompts to Jerimiah 29:11. A much used scripture. One she had used when her mother died and when Doreen had her devastating accident. She loved that scripture. It was so confirming, filled her with hope. That’s what she needed tonight – hope, for Rob and her.
She tried to push away the anger she had. She understood his reluctance to tell her, but when did he plan to do it? After they were engaged? Or, worse yet, married? He used the excuse of out of sight, or as he’d said, out of episodes, out of mind. He did explain that he hadn’t had any symptoms for over a year, except the cut at the floral shop. And, he couldn’t be sure it was a result of the disease; could simply have been a fluke. She thought back to the night he gave her the phony ring and how his knee popped twice. Could that have been a fluke, too? Now she wondered if he would stumble down the aisle on their wedding day or drop the ring. So many uncertainties, so many decisions. He was a marvelous dancer and had never stumbled, but held her firmly and led perfectly.
The mission! Oh, dear, what should they do about that? Her own doctor appointment for her well-check was in two days. When was Rob’s?
She put her hand over her heart and wept. Tomorrow she would have to make a decision to accept the ring or call off the engagement.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Today was the day!
Rob had made a reservation for dinner at Mayur, one of her favorite restaurants. She loved Indian, and it had a private room usually reserved for groups. But, after explaining the reason, they agreed to reserve it for him.
He parked at Fashion Island and sat in his car and prayed. He needed to pray more. He did fly-by-night prayers in the shower every morning and quick ones when he crawled into bed. This was different. This was his future … with, or without, Cindy.
He felt a peace settle over him, struggled out of the car when his left leg wouldn’t cooperate and managed to make his way stumbling to the jewelry store. Fortunately, he had parked in the lower lot so he was able to take the escalator that deposited him a short distance from the jewelry store. His legs seemed to cooperate during the brief walk.
The store was amazing. He hadn’t paid much attention the day they were shopping for the ring, but now it blew his mind. It was circular, round, stood out from all the other stores in the mall. Huge, too. Had they made the right decision to purchase the ring at this opulent store? Maybe they should have gone to Los Angeles to the diamond area, or even to Costa Mesa or another neighboring city where prices were not so inflated.
He entered the huge glass doors and took a deep breath. Gotta be brave. And he had already made a commitment. Approaching the clerk behind the counter, he asked for Mr. Owner. He still didn’t remember the man’s name, but Owner should do the trick.
The clerk, an Indian man, bowed his head. “Owner passed away last week.”
“What? How?”
“Suddenly. No reason, no warning. Just happened.” The man bowed his head and asked why Rob was there.
~
Rob held the precious velvet bo
x in his hand and stared at it. Finally, he put it in his pocket, got in his car and drove to Cindy’s.
What were the magic words? The words to seal a lifetime of love, or erase them. Again, he sat in his car, this time outside of Cindy’s condo. Please, Lord, give me guidance and favor, and give me the courage to use Your guidance.
His legs and arms fought him again, wobbly and very little control. Why of all times? He hadn’t had an incident for almost a year.
Cindy answered the door with a smile on her face. That was encouraging. Rob grinned.
She lifted her hands to cup them around Rob’s cheeks. “I love you.” Nuff said.
EPILOGUE
June
Lydia Lovejoy fussed with her pale blue MOG gown. She was again the Mother of the Groom, and she was thrilled. She looked out the window of the small rented cottage on sticks the locals called a bungalow. Logan came up behind her and kissed her on the neck.
“Don’t spoil my makeup!” She elbowed him, then turned around for a full kiss. “This is exquisite; this setting; a perfect place to have a perfect wedding.”
Logan hugged her. “You think Braydon will be jealous? Not getting married here in Costa Rica on the beach?”
“Not at all. He and Noelle married in the perfect place for them at Sherman Gardens. This is perfect for Rob and Cindy.” She paused to breathe in the fresh salt air of the ocean only a hundred yards away. “Their mission is perfect, too. With God’s will they can plant a small church. Cindy can start a preschool; Christian, of course. Rob can start support groups for MS and join the local AA meetings.”
Logan nodded. “What a blessing Rob found this place through AA friends. That Brian guy who manages the bungalow rentals is super. It’s even better that he lives here full time. And,” he added, “his boys are adorable.”
“Cute names, too. Fletch and Hux. Their mother must have chosen them, you think?”
“I asked him about their names. He said he’d had naming rights.”
They watched as a group of musicians collected on the beach. One of them was the Brian guy who had a guitar slung over his shoulder. Each carried a folding chair, set it up in a semi-circle making sure the feet were anchored in the sand. A little dog raced behind them. Brian settled it down with a gesture of his hand. Must be his dog. His little boys followed the dog that had a bow tie around its neck. The boys were dressed in surfer shorts with blue Hawaiian shirts.
Lydia remembered the boys were to act as ring bearers. She knew Cindy would have loved to have some of her students perform that part, but even though airfare was reduced, it was too much to ask. However, the kids would have gotten free surfing lessons from Brian.
The music started to play, and Lydia and Logan walked out to the wide porch to wait their turn. Since Cindy’s mother was deceased, Lydia would be the first woman to be escorted down the sandy aisle. She thanked God that Cindy’s dad who was compromised with arthritis and a fixed income was able to attend. He would walk her down the aisle on the white fabric the wedding coordinators had placed. She prayed he wouldn’t trip.
She also prayed Robinson would not have an episode. MS can be so random, and often reveals its ugly head when one is nervous.
She saw a large black car pull up on the narrow dirt road between the bungalows and the beach. Four people piled out. Rob, Noelle and Braydon, and someone who looked like a possible preacher who was dressed in board shorts, flip flop sandals and a white button down shirt with a black bow tie at the neck. It did look as if he was carrying a book. Hopefully, a Bible. He held it to his chest and made his way to the end of the white fabric aisle where a lovely arch was set up and covered with vines and roses. A makeshift altar of wood and palm fronds rested beneath the arch. It was adorned with a long white crocheted scarf that Cindy had told her belonged to her mother and had been made by her grandmother. It was a way to honor both of them and have them be part of the nuptials. Resting in the center was a cross made completely of sea shells that young Taylor had designed and made with help from her siblings.
The preacher gestured to the musicians. They nodded and started to play their version of something classical. Chopin? It was a little funky, a bit off tune, but it worked to provide background music while guests were taking their seats.
Braydon stepped forward in navy board shorts and escorted his mother down the makeshift aisle with Logan following. Lydia was so proud of her sons she almost burst. She grinned over at Kerstin Day, Noelle’s mother, who was seated opposite her with Darrell. She was certain Kerstin’s eyes were moist like hers.
She shouldn’t break protocol and turn around, but she did. She noticed Dana emerged from Bungalow 5, next to theirs. She had her four children in tow and guided them forward to take their part in the ceremony. Shady was to join Fletch and Hux to be a ring bearer. Lydia wondered how many rings there could possibly be, but each boy held a small pillow in front of him. She was sure the rings tied on them were totally fake. Just a fun part of the ceremony. Shyla would be a flower girl tossing petals profusely on the white cloth runner.
Lydia was so glad the wedding coordinator was Jill who had helped Kerstin plan Noelle’s and Braydon’s wedding. The woman was a fount of information, and so accommodating. If not for her careful planning, the flowers for the bouquets and the loose rose pedals for the flower girl to fling (which she did dramatically) would not have arrived to this semi-remote destination. They certainly couldn’t have been shipped to this third world country, because they would never have arrived at the wedding and would be gracing the arms of the postal workers’ women. Instead, they were carried in several guests’ baggage wrapped in Cellophane and foil, little plastic water tubes on each stem to keep them moist. In order for them to pass security inspection a tag was tacked on to each bloom and the plastic box of petals that said Made in U.S.A. as Brian had advised them to do.
Lydia and Jill had held their breaths while going through Customs with the Days and other guests, but they made it. Perhaps it was the large U.S. bill of currency Logan slipped into a Customs officers paw. When Lydia’s enormous suitcase slid topsy-turvy off the whooshing conveyer belt with only one latch open, she let out a huge sigh of relief.
She brought her mind to the moment at hand, the wedding, and thought about all the details and planning that had gone into it.
She had tried to convince the couple to have a beach wedding in Newport, or anywhere in California. But, they were insistent. Costa Rica was where God had led them to plant a church and establish therapy groups for MS sufferers. Were they qualified for either? She turned her thoughts back to the numerous attendants. Such a special group.
Dana’s eldest child Taylor would be a junior bridesmaid. She was dressed in her favorite color of blue and held her head high, strands of her long hair escaping the curls and framing her face. Robert the stylist they’d brought from California had spent hours producing exceptional hairstyles for all the women and girls. This was eleven-year-old Taylor’s moment, and Lydia was sure it would be forever in her memory.
Lydia had wondered about the keyboard set up on a small low table in front of the diverse collection of musicians. Perhaps someone hadn’t shown up. Being partially turned around, she almost missed the keyboard player. Eight-year-old Teagan quietly settled herself sliding onto the mock piano bench, adjusted her blue skirt and grinned shyly. Lydia knew from talking with Dana that Teagan hated to be the center of attention. But, somehow Dana had talked her into it. Maybe it was partly Ms. Lorrie and the fact her ten-year-old granddaughter Swae had played the piano at a recent wedding. Something had given Teagan courage.
She softly played the Ode to Joy Beethoven piece her tutor Mrs. Prince had practiced with her for weeks. They had also practiced the Wedding March daily until Teagan’s fingers were numb.
After all the guests and Lydia and Logan were seated, the pastor nodded to her. Teagan’s slender fingers hovered over the keyboard to play Someday My Prince Will Come just as Cindy’s prince charming took his place in
front of the officiant. Lydia was not sure where he’d come from. Obviously out of that long limo, then probably hiding behind the row of upright surf boards lined up at the side. So, that was the purpose of them! Braydon followed him as his Best Man. Two other men followed. One had long blond hair tied in a ponytail, the other’s dark hair was short cropped, almost shaved. Lydia recognized them as his surfer buddies, Nick and Brad.
If she hadn’t been so curious, well nosy actually, she might have missed Arthur Akers walking from another bungalow and pausing next to his daughter. Lydia wasn’t sure, but even from her distance, as they turned to each other, she thought both of them had moist eyes. She was delighted that Arthur was not wearing board shorts, though. His navy linen pants and jacket and his graying temples made him look very distinguished.
She could see that Cindy wore a diaphanous white gown that seemed to float delicately around her, like air. Robinson and his attendants were all clad in board shorts and topped with tuxedo jackets and vests, even with four in hand ties! She had expected Hawaiian print shirts.
Rob stood rigidly in front of the pastor. The music pumped up, and the children led the procession. The boys started to race, as boys do, down the aisle as a cute canine joined them. Lucy, the French Bulldog raced with a ribbon hanging out of her mouth. She sat obediently at the feet of Fletch and wiggled proud. Lydia could see something metallic hung from the ribbon in the dog’s mouth. Surely, it wasn’t one of the real rings. Little Shy skipped and gleefully threw handfuls of petals randomly, and obviously with abandon, some landing on guests laps or hitting them in faces.
After the giggling died down, Taylor stepped forward. She stepped slowly, smiled and held her beautiful rose nosegay in front of her perfectly. She was followed by five other women, all Candy Canes. For this wedding they were dressed in sea green blue, probably Cindy’s choice to give emphasis to the climate and the beach venue. Their bouquets of buttery white roses whose petals were tinged with blue matched Taylor’s. Lydia was thrilled with the gorgeous bouquets. She knew Braydon had worked all morning with Jill’s assistant to design them. Later, in early afternoon, Lydia and Braydon created Cindy’s bridal bouquet, one Lydia had specifically designed for her, as she had Noelle’s over a year ago. It was her gift to Cindy. She was so glad she had taken that floral design course from Marg in Scottsdale several years ago. Not only was Marg Rodger a dear, but she was an award-winning floral designer who had shared her brilliant creations and how to compose them with Lydia. It was because of Marg that Lydia had the gumption to open Love In Bloom in Corona del Mar. Now, she was seeing her own creation being held by her future daughter-in-law.
Cindy's Perfect Dance (The Candy Cane Girls Book 2) Page 8
