Secrets of a (Somewhat) Sunny Girl

by Karen Booth

  “Okay, okay. I get it. I’d get here quick though. The tow truck is on its way. And prepare yourself for the worst.”

  “I’ll be there. Don’t let them tow off my sister’s flowers.” I hung up the phone and sprang into action. This was no time to freak out.

  "What's the plan?" Eamon asked.

  I was already requesting an Uber from my phone. It was only a few minutes after eight o’clock, and the ceremony wasn’t until eleven, but I needed to have the flowers at the venue and looking perfect no later than ten. “You get dressed, find Luke, and think up some reason you and I are going over to the club on our own.” I glanced down at my phone again. “The driver will be here to pick us up in seven minutes. I’ll get us packed up.”

  “Don’t you need to take a shower?”

  “There’s no time. I'll have to go with dry shampoo and a ton of deodorant. I’ll do my hair and makeup at the club.”

  “Do I tell Luke what's happened?”

  “No. We don't need to give him or Amy any more reason to be spooked about today. Tell them we had to go meet Fiona. It’s not a lie if we call Rachel from the Uber and tell her to have her dropped off at the country club instead of at the house.”

  He nodded and smiled. “You're a good sister.”

  “I’ve spent my whole life trying. It had to kick in at some point.”

  Lickety split, Eamon and I met the driver and we were on our way to the location Max had sent me. I was wearing my bridesmaid dress with my black Chuck Taylors. Eamon was wearing his tux. My hair, which still sort of smelled like last night’s booze, was pulled back in a ponytail. Everything was already pretty much a disaster, but I decided to be optimistic—things could not get worse.

  The accident scene was indeed catastrophic. Vehicle glass scattered over the blacktop, crumpled metal littering the intersection, and cars trying to drive around it all. The van was on its side and a red pickup truck with its front smashed in was a good twenty yards away. But no one was injured, so that was good news. I was going to squeeze every good thing out of today if it killed me.

  After a quick talk with the police to make sure I could take our flowers, Eamon and I ventured over to the back of the van. He opened the door, the metal groaning in protest. I crouched down and duck-walked inside. I ignored my impulse to cry when I saw what we were working with—the white boxes holding the bouquets were strewn about, the flowers themselves arranged like someone had been playing pick-up sticks.

  “Is it bad?” Eamon called into the van.

  “Toast was a pretty good way to put it.”

  “Is there anything we can save?”

  “The boutonnieres and bouquets are in boxes. Hopefully they’re okay. It's mostly the flowers for the ceremony and reception that went flying.” I sidestepped puddles of water, glad I’d had enough sense to wear sneakers. I knew then that I had to channel my mom, something I quite frankly had never done. Not once. But if she were here, she would've gone to work. There was a wedding happening today and a bride in need of flowers. There was nothing to be done except to make it happen.

  A stack of three gray plastic tubs sat off to one side. I’d have to borrow those and use them to carry the flowers. Most of the vases were broken, but a few weren’t, and I was pretty sure they’d have some at the club. Luckily, a spool of the silver satin ribbon we’d chosen was sitting among the debris, still shrink-wrapped. “I’ll grab everything I can and we'll figure it out when we get there.” I started handing Eamon the white boxes and when that was done, I picked through the flowers and gently placed them in the tubs. Max, the delivery guy, had finished talking to the police and was still waiting for a tow truck, so he helped. Fifteen minutes later, Eamon and I were back on our way.

  We pulled up in front of the country club, and I flagged down some of the catering folks to help us get the flowers inside and help find me a workspace. We set up a banquet table in a back hall by the kitchen. We found a few pair of scissors, and some extra plain glass vases for the centerpieces. It was going to have to do.

  Eamon's phone beeped with a text. “The car is dropping off Fiona. I'll be back in a minute.”

  I decided to start with the bouquets and although it was a terrifying prospect, I knew that Amy’s should be first. If anything needed to be perfect, it was that. My pulse was pounding in my throat as I lifted the flap of the box, which was crushed on one corner and wet on the others. Please be okay. Please be okay. I opened it and could hardly believe what I was looking at. It looked perfect. Absolutely perfect.

  “No. How is that possible?” I muttered to myself, quickly opening the bridesmaids’ boxes to see if I would actually be that lucky.

  I wasn’t.

  Those bouquets all had at least one snapped stem. Some had several. But I took the state of Amy’s as a good omen and since there were no extra flowers, I started removing those that were broken.

  I hadn't realized just how much I was running on adrenaline until I looked up and my heart came to a stop. Eamon and Fiona were walking toward me, both all smiles, holding hands. Fiona was wearing a lovely deep purple dress with an empire waist and full skirt, along with black Mary Janes. I hadn't taken the time earlier to fully appreciate how ridiculously handsome Eamon was in his dark gray tux. The two of them stole my breath away.

  Fiona let go of her dad’s hand and ran up to me to give me a hug. “I’ve missed you,” she said.

  My heart melted right then and there. “I’ve missed you, too. You look beautiful in your purple dress.” I smoothed back her hair with my hand and kissed the top of her head. How I loved this child. “Did you see how handsome Daddy looks today?”

  “I did. It even looks like he combed his hair.”

  “I clean up pretty well.” Eamon's off-kilter grin said that he knew that he was doing far better than pretty well.

  Fiona eyed the array of empty vases and odd collection of flowers on the table. “What happened?”

  “Can you keep a secret?”

  “Of course I can.”

  “We have to fix all of the flowers before Aunt Amy gets here.” I glanced up at the clock on the wall. “Which will be in about a half hour.”

  “I’ll help,” she offered.

  “Me too,” Eamon added.

  And so I issued instructions. Eamon and Fiona sorted the flowers, dividing them up by type and discarding whatever wasn't usable. When they were done with that, they filled the containers with water, like an adorable daddy-daughter fire brigade, and I went to work arranging. With handfuls of flowers in my hand, it was hard not to see a vision of my mother working behind the counter at Taylor & Daughters, humming to herself and happy to be doing the thing she so loved. I didn’t try to banish the thought, nor did I let it wander to other memories of her. I simply let it play in my head while I did my best to do what she would have done if she were here today—I fixed the flowers.

  In the end, a few centerpieces ended up being thin, but I figured we'd put those at the back of the reception hall and Amy would hopefully never notice. Fiona helped me tie new bows on the vases while Eamon went to meet up with Luke and keep him away from the floral disaster.

  My dad found us just as Fiona and I were finishing. There were flower stems and scraps of ribbon littering the tabletop. There was no escaping what had happened. “What in the world went on back here?” He pulled me into an embrace then greeted Fiona. “There's my princess. I hope we can sit by each other during the ceremony.”

  “No magic while they're getting married, Grandpa Mark. It would be rude.”

  “But of course.”

  I turned and acknowledged the mess on the table. “There was an accident with the flowers, but I think we got everything fixed. Please don't tell Amy. I'll tell her later. After the wedding.”

  “Or never. Never works, too.” He took survey of our work while one of the staff began loading the centerpieces onto a cart. “But well done. You clearly learned all of this from your mother. Glad it came in handy.”

 
; “Yes. Me, too.” I sighed happily feeling like a weight had been lifted. Or to be more precise, many weights. “Let's go see if Amy is here yet.”

  Fiona and I walked double-time down the hall back to the bride's room.

  Amy was just arriving, her massive dress still wrapped up in the garment bag. Talk about cutting it close. “There you are.” She unsubtly eyed me up and down. “Katherine, you look like hell. You're sweating and your hair and makeup aren't done. We have less than a half hour. What have you been doing?”

  “Playing with me. It's my fault,” Fiona said.

  Amy bopped Fiona on the nose with her pinky. “Nothing could possibly be your fault.”

  “Don't worry,” I said. “I’ll get cleaned up right now.”

  “I can curl your hair, Katherine,” Fiona said.

  “You can?”

  She nodded. “I can. I practice on my mam all the time. I curled it that day we met at the park. I’m not half bad.”

  I was going for better than half bad, but at this point, I was interested in saving time. “Wow. Okay.”

  Fiona followed me into the bathroom and she stood on a chair, spraying my roots with dry shampoo, brushing out sections, and carefully curling my hair. There was no telling what the final product would look like, but all I could think was that the girl had some skills.

  I started to put on my makeup, looking into the mirror, blending concealer and foundation. Today, my reflection didn't bother me. I liked seeing a glimmer of my mom somewhere on the other side of the glass, knowing that yes, she was part of me, but she most certainly was not all. I mostly saw myself looking back from the mirror, with Fiona by my side. For as many moments as we'd spent teetering on chaos lately, this was the best I'd felt in a long time.

  Still, there was one thing I could do to make things even better.

  “I love you, Fiona. You know that, right?”

  She unleashed her sweet smile. “I love you, too.”

  “I love your dad very much. I want to ask him an important question today. I want to ask him to marry me. But I want to know if that’s okay with you.” I wondered if she'd be confused by the notion of me essentially asking for her father’s hand in marriage, but she didn't bat an eye.

  “It's perfectly okay with me. A girl should be able to ask a boy just as much as a boy can ask a girl.”

  “That’s what I think, too.”

  “Do you think he'll say yes?”

  It hadn't occurred to me that Eamon might say no. And that was when I truly understood how much of a blow it must have been when I'd turned him down. He’d probably never seen it coming. “I can only hope that he loves me and forgives me enough to say yes. But if not, we'll figure something out.”

  Fiona let the final curl go and spritzed my entire head with a cloud of hairspray while I covered my face with my hands. “There. Done,” she proclaimed.

  I peeled back my fingers and turned my head to check out my hair—long perfect spirals of blonde. I had to admit the nine-year-old had done a much better job with the curling iron than I ever could have. “It's perfect. Thank you so much.”

  “I’m excited you’re going to ask Daddy the big question. I’m rooting for you. Just so you know.”

  “I appreciate that, sweetie. More than you know.”

  Fiona and I walked back into the bride’s room to see Amy in her dress. I was so glad for that day at Vera Wang, when I'd completely lost it and sobbed like an idiot. It saved me from messing up my makeup now. “You look amazing.” Standing behind her, I placed my hands on her shoulders and kissed her cheek.

  Amy looked back at me through the reflection of the dressing mirror. “I do look pretty good, don't I?” She ran her hand over the double strand of pearls. “Thank you for getting the necklace. It wouldn't have been right if Mom wasn't here in some way.”

  I swallowed hard, not wanting to cry. Later, maybe tomorrow or when she and Luke got back from Peru, I would tell her that Mom had absolutely been with me when I fixed the flowers. I was pretty sure she’d been watching over Amy’s bouquet, too. “She’s here. In the best possible way.”

  Dad poked his head into the room. “Ladies. They're ready for us to line up.” He caught sight of Amy and his lower lip started to tremble. “You are the prettiest bride that ever was.”

  Amy popped up from her seat and wrapped her arms around him. I followed and hugged them both at the same time. I was not about to miss out on this moment. None of us said a peep. I sensed that we were all fighting back the tears. Today was a big day and not only because Amy was about to get married. Today showed how far we had come. We were a family and we were stronger together. That was all that mattered.

  Fiona started to worm her way into the middle of the huddle. “Guys. Make some room.”

  Dad laughed and stepped back. “I will always make room for you. But first, we need to have a wedding.”

  “Showtime.” Amy took a deep breath, then led us out into the hall and down to the ballroom entrance.

  “You go sit up in the front row next to Julia, okay?” I said to Fiona. “Grandpa Mark will come and sit with you after he gives Amy away. Dad and I will be standing right there at the front.”

  “I know how weddings work, but thanks.” She marched up the aisle on her own, greeting guests as she went, admiring one woman’s hat and getting a bit flirtatious with a good looking guy sitting at the end of one of the rows.

  The bridesmaids were gathering when I spotted Luke’s mom, Cindy, heading in. I knew I had to say something, but what do you say to a woman who has just learned that her husband is sleeping with her sister? I tiptoed over in time to see her tucking a silver flask into her beaded bag. “Hey, Cindy. I wanted to say congratulations and well done.”

  She unleashed a wry smile that made me wonder exactly how long she’d suspected her husband was having an affair. “Thank you for saying something nice about the wedding, rather than treating me like I've been struck with an incurable disease.”

  “Of course.”

  “You know, I have never liked my sister. She has always felt this need to outdo me. I guess she outdid me in the ultimate way this time.” She shrugged. “Be glad you have your relationship with Amy. It's special.”

  “Thank you. I love her a lot.” I went in for a hug. Cindy needed more than a pat on the shoulder today. “And thank you for being so kind to me. You've raised some amazing kids.”

  “I did, didn't I?” A wide pink lipstick smile crossed her lips.

  “Yes, you did.”

  I rushed back and took my place right in front of Dad and Amy. I took the chance to straighten Dad's boutonniere. “You two ready for this?”

  Amy nodded and kissed Dad's cheek. “I love you, Daddy.”

  “Me, too.” I stole a kiss on his opposite cheek.

  He blushed, smiling with his eyes. “You girls are the best. I love you both more than you'll ever know.” There was no telling how many more teary moments we would have today, but I had the distinct sense that we were all cherishing every one.

  The music started and we snapped to attention. One by one, the bridesmaids began their march, sashaying in silvery satin. When it was my turn, I set my sights on Eamon, standing one away from Luke, with his hands behind his back. He was more than my salvation. He made me my best. It wasn't that I'd only been Sunny Girl because I'd kept my past from him. I was Sunny Girl when I was with him. And I had to make sure he knew how much that meant to me. Today. No more waiting.

  I reached the front and he winked at me, sending a tidal wave of warmth through my body. Did he know what he could do to me with just a glance? He probably did.

  I turned and watched Amy walk up the aisle. My heart, in all its patched-up glory, was so filled with love it was almost impossible to understand. And to think I'd spent so many minutes worrying about this day, fretting about whether or not she would be happy or safe without me. Now I knew she could find her own happiness, and she'd done a damn fine job of it, too.

  The crow
d settled back in their seats and the ceremony began. It felt as though I was watching it all happen through an entirely different lens than I'd imagined. Not rosy. Just clear. This was what love looked like, and I was humbled to be in its presence. Amy and Luke exchanged their vows, and I let myself soak up every good feeling around me. There was so much of it that the entire room glowed in gold. Even with all of the drama, everything had come together. Everything was right. Especially when the minister pronounced them husband and wife, and my sister got to kiss Luke. The knot had been tied. And I couldn't have been happier.

  Luke and Amy embarked on their trip down the aisle, and his oldest brother, who was best man, stepped forward and offered his arm. This was exactly as we'd practiced. The trouble was, I didn't want him. I wanted the guy behind him. So I stepped aside and let one of the other bridesmaids go first.

  “Making trouble, I see,” Eamon whispered into my ear when he took my arm.

  It felt like my cheeks were going to burst as we walked down the aisle together. “I had to have you. I don't know how else to put it.”

  He was still laughing a bit as we stepped out into the hall. We were supposed to stop, but there was one more thing to do. I grabbed his hand and kept going.

  “Katherine, the receiving line…”

  “We'll congratulate them later. I need to do something.” I ducked into the reception hall with Eamon. Everything was set—the tables, the dance floor, the lovely, albeit sparse in the back of the room, flower arrangements. This was as close as I could come to a romantic setting on this cold December day.

  “I don't think we're supposed to be in here yet,” he said.

  “I’m not worried about rules right now, Eamon.”

  I marched him out to the middle of the parquet dance floor and took his other hand. I looked into his eyes, much as I had that first night we met, when I was just as much in awe of him as I was now. Was this really happening? And would it work out the way I wanted it to? I wanted to believe it would. It had to. Nothing else made sense.