by Fiona Lowe
A minute later the room was quiet and Erin guided Connie over to the window. “Look at that view, Connie. Breathe it in and feel the peace of it filling you. This is your day and it’s going to be perfect.”
“Of course it’s going to be perfect,” Connie snapped. “That’s what I’m paying you and everyone else for.”
The words slapped Erin. Okay, so the view wasn’t the key to relaxing this bride. Time to try for another angle. “Let’s get started then, shall we, and take some photos to knock Toby’s socks off?” She laughed. “Or should I say his pants?”
Connie wasn’t the least bit nervous or embarrassed about being photographed in her lingerie; in fact she had some definite ideas which Erin thought at times bordered on slutty but if that’s what the client wanted she took them. She also encouraged and took a few more tasteful shots. By the time the attendants returned, the bride was laughing and smiling.
“Now for the dress.” Erin loved capturing the moment a bride first sees herself in the mirror wearing the dress that represents so much. That moment of “wow” when a thousand strands of girlhood dreams unite.
Connie stepped into the dress and Sarah and Zoe carefully pulled it up to her waist before sliding it up her arms to sit just off the shoulders. Mrs. Littlejohn sniffed and Erin caught the emotional shot of a mother watching her daughter transform into a bride.
Connie’s dress was exquisite. Layer upon layer of lace flowed from a tight-fitting bodice of ruche chiffon and her narrow waist was circled with a yellow sash—the exact brilliant yellow of the sunflowers that would surround her when she made the commitment to the man she loved. While two of the other bridesmaids fitted the veil, Erin raised her camera in preparation for when Connie turned around and faced the antique cheval mirror.
As Zoe smoothed down the wedding dress, Connie grabbed her sister’s wrist and jerked it up to her face. “What’s this? I told you and the manicurist that everyone’s nails had to be gold.”
Her sister shrugged. “I thought this color worked better for me.”
Connie pinched the back of Zoe’s hand.
“Ouch!” The young woman rubbed it against her thigh.
“You bitch.” Connie turned on her, fury blazing from her eyes. “You did this on purpose, didn’t you? You can’t stand not being the center of attention for one day. Well, newsflash. Today isn’t about you. I’m the bride and it’s all about me. I won’t let you, anyone or anything ruin it. Get out.”
Zoe’s expression was a mash of emotions including relief.
“Now, darling, don’t be like that,” Mrs. Littlejohn said, looking desperately at Erin. “Perhaps the wedding planner can find some gold polish for us and Zoe can paint her nails now.”
“I can certainly ask,” Erin said, pulling out her phone and desperately hoping Nicole had some at the salon.
“Didn’t you hear me?” Connie shrieked, totally ignoring her mother. Her eyes bulged and a hot red flush raced along her skin, staining her décolletage to her jaw. Raising a shaking hand, she pointed straight at Zoe. “I’ve got five other bridesmaids who do exactly what I tell them and I don’t need you!”
Zoe’s shoulders squared. “Good, because I don’t want to have to watch you make Toby miserable.”
“Zoe, shhh,” her mother pleaded.
“You’re just jealous,” Connie said tartly. “You always wanted him but he’s never even looked at you and why would he?”
Oh God. Erin was used to dealing with mother-daughter tensions but this was a whole new realm of bride drama. Connie was melting down fast and taking happy bride photos with her. Erin frantically wished Nicole was here to help.
Zoe’s cheeks flamed so red it was as if Connie had slapped them and Erin saw the moment the bridesmaid decided to go for broke.
“Toby—”
“Zoe.” Erin clapped her hands so hard it sounded like a gunshot. Crossing her fingers she said, “Please wait for me in the hall. I’ll be two minutes.”
The bridesmaid surprisingly spun on her heel and left the room. Erin grabbed the new champagne bottle Wade had delivered and she poured Connie a full glass before thrusting it into her hand. “You look absolutely incredible, Connie, and I want to photograph that—not your stress. You’ve always said you want amazing photos and they’re going to happen. Right now, all you have to do is enjoy your favorite champagne. Let the bubbles float on your tongue and picture yourself in the sunflower field. I promise you, I’ll sort out the rest.”
“She’s right, princess,” Mrs. Littlejohn said, her voice trembling. “We all want your day to be perfect and we’re going to make it happen.”
While the mother of the bride was soothing her daughter, Erin said very quietly to the other bridesmaids, “Go tell Connie how amazing she is and how she’s the most beautiful bride you’ve ever seen in your life. Do you understand?”
They nodded mutely and sculled champagne.
Erin pulled open the door and grabbed Zoe’s hand. Fortunately, the young woman acquiesced and walked with her down the passage to the room where the groomsmen were dressing. Erin knocked and then opened the door. Seven men gave her a welcoming nod. It was uncanny how they all had the exact same hair color and she realized with a belated jolt that the bridesmaids did too. She thought about the hissy fit Connie had just thrown over nail polish and asked Zoe, “Is Sarah a natural brunette?”
Zoe let out a tight laugh. “With that skin and those eyes, what do you think? Connie told her if she wanted to be her maid of honor she had to dye her hair.”
Before Erin could fully absorb that bit of information, the groom, who was holding a longneck of beer, gave Zoe a long and furtive look before glancing away. A moment later he set his beer down and approached his soon-to-be sister-in-law. His forehead was a sheen of nervous sweat. “You look lovely. How’s Connie?”
Their exchanged glances turned Erin’s mouth dry. No, she was imagining things. She was letting her own nerves about taking a career-defining photo give free rein to her imagination. Still an internal voice yelled act now.
Before the bridesmaid could open her mouth, Erin said firmly, “Toby, your bride is utterly beautiful and she’s going to take your breath away. Now, it’s time for photos. If we can just get a photo of your mom pinning the boutonniere onto your lapel...”
An hour later, Zoe had gold nails, the groom was bolstered by both beer and his groomsmen, and the bride was one of the most stunning women Erin had ever photographed. Connie was holding her father’s arm and waiting to walk down the green carpet aisle to join her soon-to-be husband. Erin took the photo that would define the last moments of Connie Littlejohn’s life as a single woman.
The music started and Erin snapped the cute flower girl walking a beribboned Maggie-May down the aisle. Under the canopy, as per Connie’s instructions, Mac lay uneasily at the groom’s feet casting confused glances at Luke.
Luke, dressed all in black and looking like an insanely handsome country music singer, bent his head until it was at the level of Erin’s ear. “The groom looks like he’s scared of dogs.”
Erin was pretty certain the groom was scared of something but she’d swear it wasn’t the dog. The service started and she aimed her camera, her attention completely focused on the bride and groom as well as trying to be as unobtrusive as possible so as not to interfere with what should be an intimate and emotional service. As with every wedding, she was so busy that she always felt the formalities went quickly but today it seemed even faster and a touch impersonal. Everything looked perfect so she couldn’t quite put her finger on exactly what was different but there was a lack of something.
The groom kissed the bride and then together they walked back down the long, green carpet toward their hay wagon. The plan was that they would be showered in rice and then be taken on a short wagon ride. While they were catching their breath and spendin
g some special and private minutes together as a married couple, Nicole and the Andersons would guide the guests onto the waiting buses. As soon as the last bus had exited the property, Connie and Toby would return to the field for the photo session.
“They make a striking couple,” Erin said to Luke, who had her camera bag slung over his shoulder and her tripod in his hand ready to move.
He raised his brows. “That’s one way of putting it.”
She frowned, uneasy that she couldn’t just brush away the comment. “What does that mean?”
“Nothing. They have white teeth, an even gait, good muscle tone and—”
“They’re not cows!”
He grinned. “If they were, she’d be described as having a prominent udder. They can’t be real, right?”
She thumped him playfully in the arm. “You’re supposed to be carrying the gear not eyeing the bride.”
He stole a kiss. “Sweetheart, I’ve only got eyes for you.”
A fraction of her heart turned to mush, which scared her, and she swung her mind back to the job at hand. “Come on. I want to meet them as they turn back into the gate from the farm road.” Summoning the rest of the bridal party, she led twelve people down the field.
While they were waiting for the happy couple to return, Erin thoroughly enjoyed taking the photos of the all attendants. Now that the ceremony was over, everyone was relaxed and ready to kick back and have fun. Wade helped by providing more food and drinks, all laid out beautifully on a silver platter which rested on a white cloth-covered table. He’d even arranged a vase of sunflowers. She photographed the setup knowing it would add beautifully to the couple’s album.
As she worked, Luke was surprisingly intuitive about what she needed and when, as he dexterously switched cameras and lenses. At one point she looked up to see him taking a photo of her taking a photo of the wedding party line dancing. She laughed and blew him a kiss.
Her phone vibrated in her pocket. She fished it out and read the text from Nicole. “Okay, everyone,” she called the group together. “Connie and Toby are about to arrive.”
The relaxed mood vanished. Zoe’s brown eyes took on a hue of brittle, burned toffee. Sarah anxiously asked if her hair and makeup were still okay and the rest of the party stared at their feet. No. No. No. She needed happy for sensational photos. “Luke, call Mac and Maggie-May.”
His expression questioned her but he let out a piercing whistle and the dogs appeared, racing around the group wildly and making everyone smile.
That’s more like it.
The wagon rumbled into the field and Al called, “Whoa,” bringing the horse to a halt. He jumped down and offered his hand to steady the tuxedo-clad Toby off the wagon.
The groom landed awkwardly before turning and putting his arms up to lift Connie down.
Erin was right there next to the wagon, camera ready, waiting for the moment Toby’s hands circled Connie’s waist. Waiting for the second their eyes locked in a long, deep stare that excluded the world—the look that only a couple deeply in love can share. Toby moved. Erin watched. Finally, her finger pressed the shutter despite the argument her brain was having with her retinas that the image wasn’t quite what she wanted.
Toby’s hands were on his bride’s waist but his gaze was centered over her left shoulder looking directly at her sister.
“Be careful of my dress,” Connie instructed. “Don’t tear it or stand on it when you set me down.”
Toby’s hands fell away. “Do you want me to lift you down or not?”
Connie huffed. “I would if I didn’t think you might drop me.”
“If you were so worried about it then why the hell did you want a wagon ride?”
“How about he hands you down,” Luke suggested, moving in with the box he’d pulled off the wagon.
“That’s not the photo I want,” Connie snapped.
Erin saw Luke’s eyes blaze and panic engulfed her. Please, Luke, don’t say anything.
Silently, Luke took a step back.
“And it’s always about what Connie wants,” Toby muttered as he roughly lifted her up and unceremoniously dumped her next to him. “Satisfied?”
Erin snapped out of her momentary panic and aimed to take back control with distraction. “Using the dogs to round you up in the middle of the sunflowers will make a fabulous photo.”
Toby sighed.
Connie’s golden forefinger poked at her groom’s starched shirt. “You agreed to everything I’ve suggested about the wedding so don’t go all whiney on me now. My wedding photos are going to get me into US Bride and I won’t let you ruin them.”
“And there you have it.” Toby threw up his hands. “I’m just a convenient prop in your wedding.”
An uneasy twitter of laughter rose from the group, breaking the tension between the couple.
“Daddy did tell you that it’s all about the bride.” Connie smiled, kissing her groom on the cheek.
Toby looked at Erin, his mouth tight. “Let’s get this over with then.”
Erin moved quickly before another disaster struck and skillfully maneuvered everyone into position. They did a conga line through the flowers. The couple held up a pitchfork and replicated American Gothic, and they played with the dogs. With each shot, Erin felt she was getting closer and closer to the one.
“What’s next?” Luke asked as he replaced the black-and-white film.
“Peekaboo.”
He scrunched up his face. “You know, I wouldn’t ask this couple to do that one.”
She remembered the time she’d asked him to do it and how he’d caught her in his arms and kissed her for the very first time. “Trust me, Luke. This will give me the defining photo.”
Luke frowned but he didn’t say anything more.
“Toby,” Erin said, “you’ve been fantastic and there’s just one more shot left. Can you step into the sunflowers and pop out like you’re playing peekaboo?”
He stared at her nonplussed.
“Maybe think of it as hide and seek. You can catch Connie and twirl her around. It’ll be fun.”
He shook his head. “No.”
“Toby, it’s one photo,” Connie said firmly.
“I’ve done all the others but I’m not doing that one.”
Erin read the intransigence on Toby’s face and heard it in his voice. She needed to tread carefully. “Okay. How about you just hold Connie close and rest your forehead on hers? Gaze into her eyes so we can all share the love you have for each other.” She waited for him to move.
“No.”
She needed this photo. “I’m happy to try something else. Do you have an idea of something you’d like to try?”
“You know what?” Toby pulled roughly at his bow tie as if it was choking him. “I’m done.”
“You’re done when I say we’re done,” Connie spat.
Erin could feel things slipping away from her and she knew she hadn’t captured the moment between the couple that would win her the Memmy. “How about hand in hand walking down the field?”
“No, you don’t understand. I’m totally done.” He turned to Connie, his face haggard but a light of relief glowed in his eyes. “It’s over, Con. We were over six months ago and I tried to tell you but like with everything you refused to hear.”
Connie stared at him, her mouth moving but there was no sound coming out.
He ran his hand through his hair. “And I was too weak to push it but I’m pushing it now. Tomorrow morning, I’m applying for an annulment.”
Erin’s blood dropped to her feet. It was like watching a trucking rig careening out of control and heading straight toward a crowd, and being totally powerless to prevent the crippling carnage.
“Does anyone have a paper sack?” Sarah asked anxiously as Connie�
�s breathing quickened and her face drained of color.
“You prick!” Connie finally screamed at full throttle before lunging for him. “You fucking bastard, I’m going to kill you.”
Luke moved quickly, wrapping his arms around the flailing bride, working hard to keep her separate from Toby. Panting, he said to the groom, “If you’re walking, pal, go now and go fast.”
“Let go of me,” Connie yelled, trying to kick Luke.
Toby hesitated half a beat, spun on his heel and marched toward the gate, dust rising from his heels.
Zoe hauled her long dress up to her knees, kicked off her high heels and starting running. “Wait! I’m coming with you.”
Toby paused and extended his hand. Zoe caught it and they both kept walking.
The rest of the bridal party stared in disbelief, their gazes shifting between the retreating couple and the screeching bride, all of them too shocked to speak.
Right on cue, the two limousines that were to have taken the bridal party back into Whitetail arrived and Nicole hopped out with a confused smile. “Is everything okay?”
Erin vomited.
Chapter Nineteen
The air in the cottage was filled with a fraught anxiety which had hit Luke in the chest the moment he’d stepped inside. He’d watched Erin click through every photo she’d taken at the ill-fated wedding at least five times and he knew she’d been at it much longer than that.
He ran his hand across her hair before letting it rest on her shoulder. “Erin, it’s nine o’clock and time to stop.”
It had been a memorable five hours for all the wrong reasons. The Littlejohns had helicoptered in their physician who’d sedated the hysterical bride. Mrs. Littlejohn had suffered an angina attack on hearing the news that the groom had run off with her other daughter and both Connie and her mother had been evacuated to the Twin Cities. With no room on the helicopter, the bride’s father had wanted blood. Luke felt for him but at the same time, he didn’t like the look in his eyes so for the safety of the Andersons and the townsfolk, Luke wanted him off the farm and out of Whitetail as soon as possible. Wade had understood and together they’d driven him to the tiny tri-county airport so he could charter a plane to return him to Saint Paul.
