by Susan Gable
“Don’t rush it away.” Lydia moved to the couch where Elke sat, stocking feet propped up. “They grow up so fast. I mean, here I am, about to watch another one of my babies get married. Seems like only yesterday Greg was born. My hair might be silver, but I don’t feel a whole lot older than I did that day. Well…except maybe when it rains.”
Jordan came out of the bathroom, Kara behind her. “Mom? What do you think?”
Kara had swept Jordan’s hair up in the back, and given her two spiral curls on either side. She wore a hint of pink lipstick and blush…talk about growing up quickly.
Amelia smiled, hoping the quiver in her lower lip didn’t show. “You look beautiful, baby.” She held open her arms. “Give me a hug.”
Jordan shook her head. “You’ll mess me up.”
“Oh, excuse me. Wouldn’t want to do that.”
Lydia winked at her.
“What were Finn’s weddings like? Did he get married here in Erie?” The questions slipped from Amelia’s tongue before her brain engaged.
The chatter in the room dropped to almost nothing, and they stared at her.
“No,” Elke said. “Finn eloped both times. Once when he was working in Vegas. You know how they say what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas?”
Amelia nodded.
“We didn’t know he was married that time until he called Cathy and asked her to look at the divorce papers.”
“I still say that shows he wasn’t serious about them,” Lydia said. “If he’d been serious, he’d have brought them home before he married them.”
Amelia caught her breath. Her Fake Husband had introduced her to his mother—or at least someone he’d paid to play his mother—the day before their wedding, a very small intimate affair held in the gardens of a local restaurant.
A tidal wave of bad memories stormed her. Chip squirmed, kicking, as a rush of adrenaline flooded her body.
AT THE FOUNTAIN AHEAD, RON, looking dashing in his black dress suit, and the justice of the peace waited for her. The cement sidewalk through the rose bushes still showed traces of the morning’s showers, but the sun shone brightly now. A good omen.
Still, Amelia hesitated upon seeing her mother, Francine, and the man she’d introduced less than an hour ago as “Uncle” Harry. Amelia had stopped calling the men between stepfathers “uncle” after she’d hit high school and started calling them toads when she wanted to be polite, and far worse when she didn’t. Francine and Harry stood alongside the open space to Ron’s right.After witnessing her mother’s train wreck relationships, especially with the men she married, Amelia had always vowed never to do this.
But Ron had changed her mind. Reliable. Dependable. Always there when she needed him. Like when she’d sprained her ankle two weeks after meeting him. He’d shown up at her graduation from chiropractic school, more than her mother had managed, and toasted her with champagne when she’d been offered a position with a practice three blocks from her house.
So despite the fact that she’d known him for only three months when he’d proposed, she’d said yes. She wasn’t about to let the only prince she’d ever stumbled across get away.
He smiled when he saw her standing at the end of the path, and his whole face brightened. The justice of the peace looked up from his notes and also smiled. So did Ron’s mother, beside him. Ron’s father had passed on several years ago, and Amelia’s…hers had just passed on being a father when her mother had announced her pregnancy.
Ron hadn’t wanted anything bigger. This wedding was about them, he’d said. The two of them. Joining together.
Amelia smiled at her groom, then started down the path.
SOMEONE’S CELL PHONE chimed. Half the women dug in tiny handbags, checking. It was Shannon who pulled hers out. “Hello? Isn’t it bad luck to talk to the bride before the wedding? What? It’s just see the bride, not talk to her?” Shannon shot them a wide grin. “Checking to make sure I haven’t gotten cold feet? I haven’t. I told you, I’m never letting you go, pal. You’re stuck with me now. How’s Ryan?” The bride burst into laughter. “Hey, you’re the one who gave him the superhero tie. If he wants to wear it, let him wear it. No. I draw the line at masks. No masks. I don’t care if he thinks it’s funny.” She rolled her eyes. Then her mouth quirked and her voice dropped. “Oh, really? A surprise?”
The rest of the room stifled giggles.Amelia struggled to breathe. Her heartbeat thudded in her ears. Sweat slicked her palms as the memories got stronger. A surprise…
THEY’D SPENT THEIR WEDDING NIGHT at her place. Beyond some clothes and toiletries, he hadn’t yet had time to move his stuff in. He’d wakened her with kisses, from the top of her head to the soles of her feet.
Which lead to another round of lovemaking.And another.
Finally, Ron glanced at the clock. “We’d better get a move on. We have to be at the airport in an hour and the cab will be here any minute. Shit.” He slapped his forehead.
Amelia climbed from the bed, stretching languidly. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing wrong, exactly. It’s just that I have one more surprise for you.”
“You do?” Her suitcase was already packed and sitting near the front door with his, ready for their honeymoon trip to Aruba—one of his wedding surprises.
“Yeah, but I have to pick it up first. Damn, it’s going to be cutting it close.” Ron kicked away the tangle of covers at his feet and scrambled to dress, as she did. A horn beeped out front of her apartment building. “There’s the cab. Let’s go.”
He stowed both suitcases in the trunk of the taxi, then opened the door for her. He yanked her into his arms and gave her a long, thorough kiss. “I’ll meet you at the gate, okay?”
“Okay.”
“FLIGHT 672, NONSTOP SERVICE to Aruba is now boarding at gate 22. Passengers needing assistance and those in first class are invited to board at this time.”
Amelia stared at the boarding pass in her hand, then shot from the seat, hoisting her carry-on. She scanned the crowd heading down the hallway.Hurrying to the pay phones, she dug change out of her wallet. Ron had a cell phone for business, but she wasn’t sure he’d have it on him. He was supposed to be on his honeymoon. She dialed. No answer. No answer at her apartment, or his, either.
Hopefully, that meant he was even now getting out of a taxi and rushing into the airport.
“FINAL CALL FOR BOARDING of flight 672 to Aruba.”
Her heart pounding, Amelia rushed to the airline employee as she put down the microphone. “Please…my husband isn’t here yet. Can you page him again?”“Absolutely, Ma’am. Ronald Peterson, wasn’t it?”
Amelia nodded, then went back to circling the now-empty gate area, stopping to peer into the distance down the hallway.
“Ron, where are you?” Her stomach knotted.
When the attendant closed the door, her chest tightened. She approached the woman at the desk again and handed her the paperwork. “Will you be able to get us on a later flight?”
The woman tapped at her keyboard. “We have a flight later this evening. And it looks like there are some empty seats.”
“Okay, thanks.”
“Maybe he got tied up in traffic,” she said, passing back the papers. “Happens more often than you think. People try to cut it too close, and then there’s an accident or something, traffic gets tied up—”
“An accident?” Amelia’s pulse pounded. “Oh, no. I hadn’t even thought of that. What if he’s been in an accident?”
She sat in one of the blue chairs for two more hours, making repeated but unanswered phone calls. She finally left in a cab for home. If something had happened to him, that was where the police would call.
Hours later, she hung up the phone. She’d called every major hospital in the area. Nothing. All she could do was wait.
AFTER FOUR DAYS without any word from Ron, no clues, Amelia stood in front of a teller at her bank. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but this account is overdrawn. Do you have another account with us?”
&n
bsp; “What? That’s not possible. I deposited my paycheck last week.”“I can make a printout of recent activity, if you like.”
“Yes, please. But for now, let’s transfer some funds from my savings account.”
“How much?”
“Five hundred dollars.” She’d looked into hiring a private investigator to find Ron, since the police seemed unconcerned. “Maybe he got cold feet just a little too late,” the detective had joked. Funny guy.
“I’m sorry, Dr. Young. There’s only two hundred dollars in that account.”
“What? No, something’s obviously wrong. You must have the wrong accounts. Dr. Amelia Young.”
“Ma’am, I have the name right. I have the account numbers right. There’s only two hundred dollars in your savings.”
Amelia’s hands trembled. She gripped the edge of the teller’s counter. “Last week there was over ten thousand in there.”
And now it was gone.
Along with her husband.
THE CAFÉ AU LAIT WALLS of Finn’s bedroom closed in. Female voices and laughter blurred together, a cacophony of sounds that made her head swim. Sweat trickled down the edge of her face. Tightness in her chest made breathing hard.
Amelia grabbed her cell phone, punched in Finn’s name, and texted: SOS.
FINN PULLED ON HIS tux jacket, fighting a grin as Greg rose to his feet beside Ryan, tucking the black mask into his back pocket. The crestfallen boy jabbed the toe of his dress shoe into the leg of the bed. Michael Hawkins patted his grandson’s shoulder.
“We can still make a break for it, man,” Hayden said to Greg, straightening his bow tie as he checked himself out in the dresser mirror. “Runaway grooms are all the rage, I hear. As your best man, it’s my job to present all your options.”Greg narrowed his eyes and shook his head. “No way. I almost lost her once. I’m not taking any more chances. I want a ring on her finger.”
Finn’s cell phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out, flipped it open…
And nearly dropped it. He was out the door and halfway down the hall before anyone else could react.
“You’re not the groom,” Hayden shouted at his back. “Where the hell are you going?”
Footsteps thudded behind him.
Finn burst into the room, which looked like one—or more—of his sisters’ closets had exploded. “You’re all decent, right?” He walked straight to Amelia, pushing through a cluster of his startled sisters.
Amelia was breathing heavily, and her eyes were closed. Seeing the pallor of her skin, he grabbed her clammy hand and sat beside her. “Amelia? What’s wrong?” He cautiously gathered her in his arms. “You’re shaking like a leaf.”
He glanced over his shoulder, easing her back onto the bed. “Bethany? Put the damn makeup down and get over here! Something’s wrong.”
Elke levered herself from the sofa, grabbing something from the night table and crawling across the bed.
Bethany whacked him on the shoulder. “Get out of the way.”
Amelia grabbed his lapels. “No, please. Don’t make a big deal. I feel so ridiculous,” she whispered. “It’s just…I’ve been in this room alone for five weeks now. And all these people…it’s too much.”
Elke peeled Amelia’s right hand off his tux, fastening a BP cuff around her upper arm. “Lie still. You look like crap.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“Clear the room, people,” Finn ordered. “Grab all your stuff and get out. There are two empty rooms on the left side of the hallway. The guys are in my new room, so you can’t use that.”
“No, we’re not. We’re here, too,” Hayden said. “What’s going on?” A wall of black tuxedos crowded the doorway, with Alan, Derek, Kyle and their dad all crushed into the space around Hayden.
Amelia groaned and closed her eyes again. Bethany grabbed hold of his ear and yanked.
“Ow!” He dropped Amelia’s hand and jumped off the bed, bumping into the bedside table, making the lamp sway. With his back pressed against the sliding doors, he rubbed his ear furiously. “What happened to do no harm?”
“You’re not my patient. She is,” Bethany snapped.
“BP’s elevated, 155 over 98.” Elke took the stethoscope from her ears. Velcro ripped as she undid the cuff. “Pulse is 120.”
“It wasn’t that high when I took it earlier.”
“For God’s sake…” Amelia grabbed the covers and pulled them over her head. “My blood pressure is high because it’s a circus in here!”
“You heard her,” Finn told his slack-mouthed family. “Clear out.” He checked his watch. “Besides, if I’m not mistaken, we’ve got a wedding in about twenty minutes.”
That did it. The guys scattered first, as the girls gathered up bags and jars and bottles of God-only-knew-what.
Bethany nodded at Elke. “Go ahead. I’ll be a few minutes behind you.”
Elke passed the stethoscope over. Then she pulled the covers off Amelia’s face. “I’ll be back before the reception to check on you.”
“You won’t be the only one,” Bethany added.
Elke pulled the bedroom door closed behind her. Silence.
It was then Finn noticed Jordan, face paler than normal despite the makeup she wore, pressed into the corner by the media center. “Hey…” He went to her, curling his palm around her cheek. “Look at you. You’re gorgeous.”
She smiled shakily.
“What do you say we step into the hall so Bethany can examine your mom?”
“No, wait. Come here, honey.”
Bethany shifted out of the way for Jordan. Amelia opened her arms, and her daughter eased into the embrace, sniffling.
“Shhh. I’m fine. Just being a bit silly, is all. Stand up now and let me look at you again.” She did.
“You’re beautiful. So grown-up.” Amelia pressed her hand to her chest. “My little girl’s not so little anymore. Have fun at the wedding, okay?”
Jordan nodded. “I’ll make videos for you.”
“Terrific. We’ll watch them together.”
“I’ll be right out,” Finn told Jordan as she passed him on her way to the door.
He glared at his sister. “Mind if I sit down again for a minute? She looks better to me already.”
Bethany leaned around him, studying her patient. Amelia gave her a thumbs-up and a sheepish smile. “Really, I’m fine. I’ll bet if you took my BP again right now you’d find it’s already dropped. I can tell because my heart’s not pounding in my ears anymore.”
“Prove it, and I’ll get out of here and give you guys a minute alone before the wedding starts. Deal, Beginagain?”
He folded his arms. “Fine by me.”
“Beginagain?” Amelia raised her eyebrows.
Bethany laughed, and while taking Amelia’s BP, sang a children’s song about a man named Michael Finnegan. Amelia closed her eyes and lay very still, but a smile played on her lips.
“We used to torture him with that song when he was little.”
“And still do,” he pointed out.
Bethany ripped the BP cuff from Amelia’s arm. “You’re right. Much more respectable now. I suspect once Finn and I leave, it will go down further.” Bethany stood, wagging a finger. “Let’s try to keep it that way, understood?” Amelia saluted.
“Don’t be late,” Bethy admonished as she brushed by him.
When the door closed behind her, he sank to the edge of the bed. “Alone at last.”
“I’m sorry—”
“Don’t apologize.” He brushed Amelia’s hair back from her face. “Hell, I’m flattered. You actually asked for help.”
She smacked his shoulder. “Rub it in.”
“Hey, watch it, you’ll wrinkle the suit. Speaking of which…” He smoothed his lapels. “How do I look?”
“Fishing for compliments?”
He shrugged, both hands palm up. “If I must.”
“I like you better in an apron. I’m not much of a tuxedo kind of girl. Though, I must say…”<
br />
“Yes?”
“I’d take a second look if I passed you on the street.”
“Damning with faint praise. I see how it is.” He stroked her forehead, then impulsively leaned down and kissed her.
She looked startled as he pulled away.
“If you need me, you know what to do.”
“Oh, right. Like you’d dash from the altar.”
“I would.” When had she gotten under his skin? And why didn’t it bother him as much as it should have? “So use your power wisely, young Jedi. I don’t want to piss off my brother without good reason.” Finn flashed her a slow, sexy grin as he stood.
“Hey!” she called when he’d reached the door.
He paused.
“Greg’s a good guy, right? All the way through? He’s not going to hurt her, right? I mean…I wouldn’t want to have to stand on the balcony and object to the marriage. For one thing, your sister would be mad at me for being out of bed.”
“Greg is truly one of the good guys. She dumped him once. He was a basket case. No worries that he’d do anything to hurt her, I promise. Why would you even ask?”
She shrugged. “Just…wondered, that’s all. I like Shannon. Now go, before you’re late and they send a search party after you.”
Her concern for Shannon touched him. Jordan wasn’t outside the room, so he clattered down the back staircase. He pulled up short at the lower landing. For a long moment he stared at the empty wall.
At the space where his and Amelia’s wedding picture hung in the dream.
He shook his head. “Nah.” Two strikes and he was out of that game.
And yet…the image stayed in his head while Greg and Shannon exchanged their vows.
After their photographer snapped a seemingly never-ending series of shots, he went upstairs to check on Amelia before they left for the Erie Club and the reception. Finn used to be chef there before opening Fresh.
She was sound asleep.
As long as he dared, he stood and watched, listened to her even breathing. His fingers itched to touch her. He found a wedding invitation one of his sisters had left on the dresser, and a pen. Folding the heavy paper in half he scrawled a note on the back and stood it on the bedside table.
