She looked out over the guests and tried to maintain her professional smile. While inside she was a churning mess of emotions. Not only was she thrown by having Laurent so close by, but she still wasn’t certain that her speech was any good. Was it just rambling thoughts? Would it have any meaningfulness for Lara and François?
Why did she feel so damn lonely, so vulnerable today? It felt as though a hole were opening up inside her. Would her relationship with Lara be the same once she was married? Had she been wrong in telling Laurent about her adoption? Had it really served any purpose? She’d wanted him to understand that she too knew of broken families. That it didn’t have to define you. But she’d failed to explain all of that last night. Maybe her speech today might convey some of what she was trying to say.
Of course, the irony was that even though she believed your past didn’t have to define your future, she knew only too well that putting that belief into practice was easier said than done. Some fears seemed to tether you to the past by their force.
Laurent turned in his chair and, looking towards the entrance, said something to François. Hannah smiled at François’s nervousness. Laurent shifted around in his seat and for a moment their eyes met. Unaccountably, tears threatened at the backs of Hannah’s eyes at the light smile he gave her. The loneliness inside her deepened.
She looked away. She was not going to think about how she used to sit in work meetings daydreaming of one day walking towards him, becoming his wife. She used to fantasise about her dress, what her bridesmaids would wear, marrying on her parents’ farm and, God help her, making love to her new husband.
Now she pulled back from the impulse to roll her eyes at her own naivety.
A movement at the entranceway had her pause and then she was smiling crazily, tears once again forming in her eyes as first Stella, dressed in a primrose-yellow midi-dress, walked down the path, soon followed by a beaming Lara on her father’s arm. Her lace, full-skirted midi-dress was perfect for a summer wedding, as were the rosebuds threaded lightly through her blonde hair tied up in a loose chignon.
When Lara reached François, Hannah’s heart swelled to bursting point at the love that shone in both of their eyes, at how they smiled at one another shyly. How glorious to know that you were going to spend the rest of your life with the person you so deeply loved.
Hannah gestured to them to take their seats before her. She returned Lara’s excited smile. Hannah gave her ear a quick tug. Lara giggled. Ear tugging used to be their secret way of communicating to one another when in school. One tug indicated a positive reaction, two tugs a negative response.
On François’s and Lara’s behalf she welcomed all the guests and expressed how honoured she was to be their wedding celebrant. Then, pausing for a moment, she stared down at her speech, praying her love and hope and wishes for them would be adequately reflected in what she was about to say.
‘When I was training to be a wedding celebrant I spoke to many friends, colleagues and family about what they felt was the key to a successful marriage. Many people cited love, respect, honesty, trust and kindness as being key. But another word was sometimes used as well, a word that intrigued me, because up until that point I hadn’t thought of it as being important. And that word was hope.’
She paused and looked first at Lara and then François, swallowing against a catch in her voice. ‘I was lucky enough to be present on the first night that you met. Immediately I could see how suited you were to one another, and the hope that immediately sprang between you. At first came the hope that the other person was feeling the same way, that they would call again. And as the weeks passed, the hope was that the obstacles you faced would not stand in your way—François living in Paris, Lara in the middle of exams.’
Hannah looked out towards the guests. ‘What is life without hope? What is love without hope? We need hope to know and believe that everything in life passes. Hope allows us to work together through tough times, knowing there will be a brighter future. Hope makes us more resilient. Hope allows us to dream, to share a vision for the future. Hope is also vital in forgiveness. We all make mistakes in life and hope is central to us learning from that experience and allowing ourselves to move on.’
From the corner of her eye she saw Laurent shift restlessly in his seat. She willed herself not to look in his direction, but as she continued her gaze slowly drifted towards him. ‘Hope is integral to daring to dream, daring to believe that the person you have fallen in love with will love you back for ever, will understand and support you, will respect your marriage, will be your partner and friend and confidant.’
She pulled her gaze away from Laurent’s tight-mouthed grimace, loneliness swamping her heart like a lead weight. She focused instead on Lara and François. ‘Hold tight to your love and hope in one another. With hope you’ll conquer whatever troubles life will invariably throw at you. Hope will allow you to share a life that is optimistic and ambitious and fun. They say that marriage is a huge leap of faith, but I actually think marriage is the ultimate song of hope. The hope of believing in the magic of love, in trusting the other person with your heart, in daring to dream of a future together. With all of my heart I wish you a joyful future together.’
She paused. A fat tear rolled down Lara’s cheek. Hannah smiled through the heavy emotion clutching at her heart when Lara tugged her earlobe once. Then, pulling herself together, she looked towards Stella. ‘And now, before I conduct the exchanging of vows, Lara’s sister, Stella, will read a poem that Lara and François have chosen to be part of today’s celebration.’
* * *
Moving down the lawn towards the river where the wedding photographs were to be taken, Laurent smiled when his mother held back from the rest of the wedding party to wait for him.
‘It was a beautiful ceremony.’
He nodded in agreement when she took his arm, trying to mask how much Hannah’s speech had unsettled him. Hope. It was a concept he’d never considered before. He was an achiever, ambitious for his career. But the hope Hannah had spoken about during the ceremony, the hope of shared dreams, of trusting in others, did he possess any of that?
He and his mother walked in silence until his mother finally said, ‘It’s nice to finally get to meet Hannah.’
He studied his mother, wondering where this conversation was going.
‘I’d like you to meet someone, marry one day too.’
Laurent stared at his mother. This chat was not following the normal pattern of their conversations, which usually revolved around business and social events and the practicalities of everyday life. They never spoke about anything personal. He was about to give a glib reply but the emotion of the day, seeing François so happy, recalling his conversation with Hannah last night had him ask instead, ‘Why did you and Papa stay married? Why were you both so unhappy that you had affairs?’
His mother came to a stop. Stared at him with consternation. ‘I’m not sure that’s really a question for today.’
‘Did you ever really love one another?’
His mother winced, but then, rolling her shoulders back, she answered, ‘We married too young. We allowed our selfishness, our restlessness, our own insecurities and frustrations to get out of control—your father should never have taken over as CEO of the House. It didn’t play to his strengths. From the first day, he struggled in the role and was deeply unhappy and overwhelmed, but he wouldn’t admit to any of that. For me, it was hard to accept that the man I married wasn’t the person I thought he was. I thought I was marrying an ambitious CEO when in truth I’d married a man more interested in buying and selling cars. But neither he nor I could accept that fact. We were too proud and we also felt the weight of family history and expectations. It soon became a vicious circle of us taking our disappointments, our frustration and hurt, out on one another. And on you two boys.’
Hard, confused anger rose up from deep inside him. ‘
When you and Papa walked out on us we never knew when you would return, or indeed if you ever intended to.’
His mother looked at him helplessly. ‘I thought having one parent at home would be enough.’
He bit back a bitter laugh and shook his head in disbelief. ‘And that was supposed to make up for the fact that I knew one of you was away with other people, enjoying life. At least you had the decency to only do it the once, whereas Papa must hold a world record for infidelity. Was it the same woman all of the time or do you even know?’
His mother blanched and then, looking down towards the lake where his father was talking with Lara’s parents, said in a barely audible voice, ‘You need to speak to your father. There are things he needs to explain to you.’
In the distance, walking in their direction from the lake, François called out, ‘Mama, you are needed for the photos. You too, Laurent. And has anyone seen Hannah?’
His mother looked at him expectantly. As though waiting for a response. His gaze moved back towards the walled garden. Hannah was standing at the archway talking to an old university friend of François’s from Paris. He heard her laughter and then she was waving him goodbye. She turned in Laurent’s direction and even from this distance he could see her hesitate in coming down the path to join the rest of the wedding party.
He turned to his mother. His anger dimming at the plea in her eyes, at the age spots on her cheeks he was only noticing for the first time. ‘You and Papa seem happy together now. Why is that?’
She gave him a regretful smile. ‘With experience we have learnt not to hurt one another. Your father’s pride and need to be in control is less of an issue and I’ve adjusted my expectations of him. He’s a good man. I wish we both had been less worried about status in the past and focused on what was important—our family.’
Laurent ran a hand against the tautness in his neck. Studied his father giving directions to the photographer as to where he should position the waiting bride and groom. ‘Are you certain being in control isn’t still an issue for him?’
His mother laughed lightly, observing what was unfolding between his father and the harassed-looking photographer too. ‘He can slip back into old habits like the rest of us sometimes.’ She paused and grimaced. ‘Speak to him, Laurent. Let him explain himself. He struggles knowing you have such a poor opinion of him.’
Taken aback, he stared down at his father, who was now slowly limping towards Lara’s parents. He swallowed against a lump in his throat. Then, turning in Hannah’s direction, he saw that she’d turned away and was walking back through the walled garden. ‘I should go and tell Hannah that she’s needed.’
He could tell his mother wanted to say more. But he needed to get away; he needed breathing space. And to his alarm he realised he wanted to be in Hannah’s company right now. He needed her calmness, her ability to distract him from even the worst of his thoughts with her smile, her quick-witted humour.
He bolted up the path, close to breaking into a jog. Hannah was heading along the path towards the pre-dinner drinks reception on the terrace when he caught up with her. ‘You’re wanted for some photographs.’
She looked at him as though she didn’t believe him. ‘I am?’
For a moment he wondered if the small pearl earrings she was wearing would feel as smooth to his touch as her skin. And suddenly the need for lightness, to hear her reassuring laughter, grabbed him. ‘You’re one of the stars of today’s celebrations, of course you’re wanted for the photos. Especially when you are looking so beautiful.’
She eyed him suspiciously but then, with a look of curiosity, asked, ‘Is everything okay? You don’t seem yourself.’
She was right. But he didn’t want to talk about how unsettled he felt by his conversation with his mother. ‘You have that effect on me.’
She stared at him wide-eyed for a moment but then, throwing her head back in laughter, she threw her hands up. ‘That’s the cheesiest line I’ve heard in a very long time.’
She walked away from him in the direction of the river. He watched her for a moment, cursing his inability to think straight, his pulse upping a notch when he took in the sway of her hips and those much too sexy strappy sandals in the same shade as her dress that had distracted him throughout the wedding ceremony. When he caught up with her he said, ‘Well done on a great job. The ceremony was excellent.’
‘Even to a wedding cynic like you?’
He smiled at the scepticism in her voice. ‘You don’t have to personally believe in something to be able to identify brilliance.’
A hint of a smile flashed on her mouth. ‘Just don’t try broadcasting that to the other guests, will you?’
He swallowed a chuckle. ‘Sorry about that. I hadn’t realised the microphone was on.’
For a moment her gaze met his and they shared a moment of private amusement that flowed over him like calming balm.
In the distance, they could see the wedding party. François and Lara were leaning against a tree barely taking notice of the photographer, who was circling them, snapping them from every possible angle. Lara’s parents and Stella were watching them, nibbling on canapés.
And then he spotted his mother and father, a distance away from the rest of the wedding party, talking intently, their bowed heads almost touching.
He came to a stop. And stared towards them.
‘Something is definitely up.’
He started at Hannah’s words. And was about to deny that anything was wrong, but then his mother ran a hand against his father’s cheek, the tenderness of the movement catching Laurent by surprise, and without thinking he admitted, ‘My mother believes that I should speak to my father about his affairs, that he needs to explain things to me.’
‘You don’t want to?’
‘Who in their right mind would want that conversation with a parent?’
‘It might ease the tension between you. It might help you understand what happened back then. It could be your opportunity to explain how it affected you.’
She was right, but the anger inside him didn’t want a rational explanation. Waving in response to the photographer’s beckoning for them to join the others, he said, ‘They’re waiting for us.’
Shading her eyes from the glare of the sun, Hannah nodded and then, her gaze shifting towards his parents, who were now accepting glasses of champagne from a waiter, said quietly, ‘They seem so close now, it’s hard to believe that they both had affairs and that their relationship survived it.’
Hannah swivelled around to study him when he gave a dry laugh. With a disbelieving shake of his head, he explained, ‘I was thinking that exact same thought.’
Hannah rolled her eyes. ‘The synchronicity of our thinking strikes again.’
The pearly white eyeshadow on her eyelids glittered when she blinked and his heart quickened at her soft smile, at the amusement sparkling in her eyes. They used to joke when they were together about their frequent simultaneous thoughts. From wanting a glass of wine all the way to ideas in the bedroom. He breathed in at that thought, remembering that dark winter’s night he’d answered his intercom close to midnight to Hannah, and as he’d gone to open the door had fantasied about her wearing nothing but her overcoat. He’d opened the door to find her wearing her killer black heels and knee-length white woollen coat. She’d walked past him, dropping her coat onto the floor, and he’d watched her walk naked up the stairs, turning once with a flirtatious smile.
With the photographer’s beckoning becoming ever more frantic, he reluctantly led Hannah down towards the river.
‘So, what did your mum say?’
‘That their affairs stemmed from their unhappiness, primarily due to my father not coping in his role as CEO.’
‘You don’t sound convinced.’
He shrugged, not knowing what to think.
‘Put yourself in his position. Y
ou’ve wanted to be CEO from a young age—how would you feel if you were now failing, realising that you weren’t capable of the role?’
He let out an angry breath. ‘I certainly wouldn’t go and have an affair as a way of coping.’
Hannah nodded. ‘No, I don’t think you would either. But I think you’d struggle to accept it—just as anyone else would. I’m not saying you should forgive your father. But maybe you should try to understand him.’
He was about to argue why he should do anything of the kind, but Hannah interrupted and said, with empathy shining in her eyes, ‘Not for his sake, but for yours. Don’t let your parents’ mistakes hold you hostage to the past.’ As they neared the others Hannah said softly, ‘If you want to talk later I’ll be here for you.’
Aware of François’s narrowed and unhappy gaze as he watched them on the path he said, ‘François told me to stay away from you.’
‘And Lara warned me to keep well away from you,’ Hannah admitted with a grimace.
Coming to a stop, he said quietly, ‘We should really listen to them.’
For a moment she looked as though she was about to agree with him, but after some consideration said, ‘I think what we had between us deserves better than that. I know it’s over between us and I accept that fact, but avoiding each other...’ She paused and shrugged. ‘It seems childish but also a disservice to how close we once were.’ Reddening, she looked back down to the river. ‘I don’t know if that makes any sense to you.’ Then nodding towards François, who was now beckoning for them to join them, she added, ‘Why don’t you ensure that the photographer takes a photo of your family and Lara? You can get it printed and place it in Villa Marchand for when they come back from honeymoon.’
Second Chance with the Best Man Page 8
