Always the Wedding Planner, Never the Bride

by Sandra D. Bricker

  Cris stood up and took her into his arms, and Sherilyn was completely undone.

  "I'm so sorry," she wailed into his shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Cristián."

  After several minutes, Cris finally drew away from her. He grabbed a napkin left on the table and dabbed at her tears before leaning down slightly to look her straight in the eyes.

  "It's time," he told her, and Sherilyn nodded, understanding his meaning fully.

  "I know."

  "Let yourself be brave."

  "And you . . . let yourself love," she returned.

  Cris kissed her cheek and squeezed her hand before setting the napkin on her knee and walking out of the kitchen.

  "For the newbies, kickboxing is a combination of martial arts, boxing, and general cardio. It involves a fast combination of kicks and punches. Once you get your balance, you'll find it's a great way to exercise as well as work out your frustrations of the day. That's why we always hold our classes later in the afternoon and early evening—so you can leave your rough day on the floor."

  Sherilyn stood next to Emma, donning pink boxing gloves as she faced the third heavy bag in a row of eight and wondering how she'd been roped into such a thing. She almost wanted to laugh at her reflection, topped off with the curve of a ponytail right at the center of her head.

  "Stand with your feet apart, around the width of your shoulders," the stick figure trainer instructed them. "Put one foot slightly ahead of the other one, take a deep breath, and just relax your body."

  Relax your body. Yeah. I'll do that.

  "If you bend your knees, it will help your balance. Now bring your hands up to protect your face, and hold them at about chin level."

  Sherilyn glanced over at Emma who rocked from one foot to the other with her fanny jutted out a bit, her eyes glistening with anticipation, and her gloves poised. She looked like she could hardly wait to kick that bag's butt. Sherilyn's bag, on the other hand, hadn't incited her in any way. In fact, it seemed like a perfectly amiable bag, hanging there quietly, minding its own business.

  "Turn just a bit to the side and suck in your ribcage, using your elbows to protect your midsection. Approach your target by stepping forward on one foot and—"

  In a matter of seconds, the other six women in the class let loose on their bags, shouting each time they slugged them, Sherilyn just standing there watching them.

  "Come on," Emma encouraged her, spinning on one leg while the other arched in a full-on attack. "THAT'S what I'm talkin' about!"

  Sherilyn stared at her for a moment, sighed, and turned to walk out.

  "No, no," Emma objected, laughing as she dragged Sherilyn back to her bag. Leaning forward over her shoulder, she whispered, "I know you have it in you, Sher. Kick some butt."

  Sherilyn glared at the bag, leaning her gloved hand on the fold of her ample hip. "I have nothing against this bag, Em."

  "Sure you do," she replied, taking her place again.

  Sherilyn watched Emma for several minutes, rocking and pivoting, throwing punches and well-placed kicks. Somehow, against all odds, she caught the fire, and for the first time in her life . . . Sherilyn Caine wanted to hit something.

  "Youch!" she shouted as a stab of pain shot through her wrist and up her arm from the first punch thrown.

  "Step into your jab," the instructor said from behind her. "Watch Emma again."

  After another minute, she readied herself one more time and threw a couple of jabs at the bag.

  "Awesome!" Emma shouted. "Hit it again!"

  And she did.

  In fact, she hit, kicked, shouted, and punched for the next thirty minutes with barely a pause. And when she was through, Sherilyn dropped on her fanny to the floor, fell over backward with a thud, and groaned.

  $

  Andy pulled back the paper sheath on the wooden chopsticks, balling it up and tossing it into the paper bag at his feet. As he popped up the lid on the Styrofoam container on the coffee table, the aromatic invitation to dinner set his taste buds to salivating. Fried rice brimmed over from the two small sections, and the larger one overflowed with a generous, heaping portion of pepper steak.

  Just as he dug the chopsticks down into it, the screech of tires snagged his attention. Holding the sticks in mid-air, he held his breath, waiting for the impact. Another squeal, this time much closer, sent Andy to his feet. Dropping the sticks to the foam container, he jogged down the hall and opened the front door.

  Sherilyn's Explorer sat running in the driveway, lights on, door open. A moment later, he noticed her racing up the sidewalk toward him with no coat on.

  What is she wearing?

  Gym shoes, black sweats, and an oversized white t-shirt. Her ponytail flopped over her head as she ran straight for him.

  "Sheri—"

  Without a word, just as she reached the edge of the porch, Sherilyn dove through the air toward him. When she landed on him, her arms wrapped around his neck and her legs around his waist, he went over backwards, and they both fell to the ground with a powerful thud.

  "Wh-at are you do-ing?" he asked as she seemed to continuously butt against his head with hers. An instant later, he realized she was pecking his face with kisses, and he began to laugh. "Sherilyn. What's going on?"

  "I love you," she squealed between kisses. "I love you . . . And I want to marry you . . . And I want us to live here . . . And have a family . . . And . . . I don't know what else . . . but I love you."

  "You might want to go out and shut off the ignition before we do all that," he told her.

  She released a stream of giggles that thrilled him. They fumbled to get to their feet, and she started out the door, then turned back again and wiggled a finger at him.

  "Wait right here," she demanded.

  When he nodded, she skipped down the sidewalk to the SUV.

  Andy's heart soared as she ran back to the front door, already talking a-mile-a-minute.

  "I was at a tasting today with Emma and everyone. Serbian food. I don't recommend it on an empty stomach, by the way. Lots of cabbage and meat. Anyway, she made these little chocolate nut cookies called pandas, and we had to make a decision about a menu for this luncheon Georgiann is giving."

  Andy didn't bother to interrupt her. He just closed the door behind them and followed her into the living room as she chattered on, knowing she would eventually get to the heart of the matter.

  "Oh, you ordered Chinese food. Anyway, so just as we're finishing up, Cristián comes in, and he says he wants to talk to me. It wasn't a long talk, it really wasn't, but I think we both got some sort of closure that we needed, you know?"

  Andy nodded toward the Styrofoam container with an arched brow.

  "Oh. No, thanks, but you go ahead. Anyway, so we kind of said what we needed to say, what we've been holding in all this time, and I said I'm sorry, and he said he forgives me, and then I went with Emma to a kickboxing class."

  She's taking longer than usual to bring it all back around.

  "I know, right? Me? Kickboxing? But I think I did really well, at least Emma said I did. And afterward I was lying there, collapsed on the floor, and I thought, Andy!"

  She went silent, looked at him expectantly, her eyes open wide.

  "Andy," he repeated.

  "I just wanted to tell you about it. About everything. About my day, and about Cristián, and about how much I really love kickboxing! And about this revelation I had on the floor of the gym where I think I realized I've been overeating and losing wedding dresses and expecting your mom to reject me, and all the time it's just been about guilt. You know, over what I did to Cristián. And that's when I realized it, Andy . . . I have to marry you."

  Amused, he asked, "I'm sorry. You made that leap, how again?"

  "There's no guilt with you."

  He waited for her to expound, but she just looked back at him, that adorable wide-open grin on her porcelain face, the one that said, 'See? Am I a genius, or what?!'

  "None," she finally said. "I don't thi
nk you've even noticed that I've been layering my past with chocolate. And if you have, you sure never made me feel like you did. You've been patient with me and understanding and loving. You've never once made me feel like I wasn't enough."

  Andy's heart thud-thud-thudded inside his chest. He scooped up both of her hands, kissing each of them.

  "I can totally be Sherilyn with you, and you never make me feel like there's anything wrong with that."

  "Wrong?" he exclaimed. "Of course there's nothing wrong with it. I love every last thing about you."

  "Exactly!" she cried. "Everything I've been missing . . . Family. Trust. Reassurance. Andy, you give me all of that. I've never felt like this about anyone before in my life."

  "I know what you mean," he said with a grin.

  "You told me to go and find that old Sherilyn. But I've found something even better. I've found a path where the old one and the new one come together into one whole Sherilyn. I'm at my absolute best with you, Andy. So will you?"

  "Will I?"

  "Marry me, silly!"

  "Oh!" he chuckled. "If I don't, will you kick my rear end?"

  "Maybe," she cried, hopping to her feet and taking a kickboxer's stance. "I got the skills now, buddy!"

  "Well, yes then. I will marry you. Will you marry me?"

  "As soon as possible."

  Andy stood up and faced Sherilyn. Sliding his arms around her, he pulled her into an embrace. Just as he leaned in for a kiss, however, a sudden roar of engines startled them both.

  "What is that?" Sherilyn asked him.

  "You did turn off the Explorer, right?"

  "Yes. That sounds," she said, tugging on his hand and leading him toward the front door, "like it's right outside."

  They opened the door and crossed the front porch, and Sherilyn squealed with glee at the two motorcycles revving in the driveway behind her SUV.

  "Andy, it's Russell! He's back!"

  "Oh, goodie," he groaned as she flew out the door and down the sidewalk.

  Hot coffee had been brewed and served when Andy, Sherilyn, J.R., and Russell gathered around the dining table.

  "Tell me everything," Sherilyn exclaimed. "Where did you go first?"

  "Tampa," J.R. replied.

  "They have a Hard Rock Hotel there," Russell told her. "No Seger memorabilia though, love. Sorry."

  She chuckled. "I see you had your guitar with you on the trip," and she nodded toward the case Russell had strapped to his back when he pulled into the drive. "You're all the rock star they needed in Tampa."

  Russell and J.R. exchanged an interesting glance that she couldn't quite decipher. "What? What was that look?" she asked him.

  "Go on," J.R. said with a nod. "Tell them what you've really been doing."

  "Does this have anything to do with the boxes you sent to my office?" she asked.

  Russell groaned. "Nah. Those are just the booty from my roam. Couldn't strap all of it onto the back of the bike, now, could I?"

  "Well, tell us. What have you been doing?"

  "He's been playing in a few little places down the coast of Florida," J.R. told them. "And he's pretty good too. Have you heard any of his music?"

  "Russell!" Sherilyn exclaimed.

  "It was just a test run," he said. "Popped in at a couple of clubs and coffee houses, just to see how people respond to my tunes."

  "And?"

  "And they loved him," J.R. answered.

  "Oh, I don't know," Russell corrected. "They seemed to like it."

  "Is it your own music? Did you write it yourself?"

  "Some. I did a combination of classic rocker stuff and the tunes I've been writing for the last year or two."

  "Very thoughtful music too," J.R. interjected. "Russell Walker, Soul Searcher."

  "Play something for us, Russell!" she said, rushing over and grabbing the guitar where he'd left it against the pantry door.

  "Ah, no, love. Another time. I'm beat, and we have to get over to the hotel." Russell turned to Andy and grinned. "Can you believe Jackson's letting me back in as a paying customer?"

  "You don't say," Andy replied. "I'd take your best behavior with you so he doesn't think better of that move."

  "Righty-oh."

  An idea crept up on Sherilyn like a warm, fuzzy caterpillar, and she approached it cautiously, with Andy's reaction in mind. "Hey, Russell." She could hardly contain her excitement, and she hopped to her feet and plopped back down again.

  "Could you give me a ride over to the hotel?"

  "Yeah!" he sang.

  "No, Sherilyn. No way," Andy objected. "On the back of a Harley in this weather? With him?"

  "It's less than fifteen minutes to the hotel," she said, biting her lip. Turning to Russell, she told him, "I haven't been on the back of a motorcycle since college."

  "You'll freeze."

  "You got a slicker?" Russell asked her.

  "My coat is in the car in the driveway!"

  "Sherilyn."

  "Andy, it will be fine. I promise."

  J.R. grinned at Andy. "I'll spread a net to catch her."

  "Great," he replied, leaning back in his chair. "Very comforting."

  Sherilyn rounded the table and stood behind Andy. Placing her arms around his neck, she kissed his cheek. "Russell will be very careful," she promised.

  "Sure he will."

  "I'll call you as soon as I arrive."

  He sort of grunted, and Sherilyn giggled as she kissed his cheek again.

  "Thanks for saying you'll marry me," she whispered, grinning at J.R. over Andy's shoulder.

  "If you're flat as a piece of paper, I can't very well do that, can I?"

  She kissed him a third time. "I love you."

  The expression on Andy's face nearly made her laugh right out loud as she headed out the front door with Russell and J.R.

  "Love you," she called back to him, and J.R. strapped on Russell's guitar while she grabbed her coat from the Explorer.

  "Ready then?" Russell asked her, and a surge of adrenaline pulsed through her as she climbed aboard behind him. "Hang on tight."

  "Don't go too fast until Andy can't see us anymore," she said into his ear as she waved at Andy's silhouette on the front porch. "I don't want to scare him."

  The Wedding Planner's Ultimate Bridal Checklist

  Part IV

  The Last Month Before the Wedding:

  Bride & Groom:

  ___ Pick up the wedding rings

  ___ Create a photo checklist for the photographer

  ___ Finalize a seating plan

  ___ Create a music checklist of song preferences

  Note: Be sure to highlight important music, such as first dance

  ___ Become VIGILANT about recording RSVPs

  Wedding Planner:

  ___ Review all details with bride for final approval

  ___ Create a wedding day schedule and final itinerary

  ___ Provide bride with a detailed wedding day "To Bring" list

  ___ Call and/or meet with every vendor to review responsibilities

  22

  Her favorite flowers are tulips, but can you get those this time of year? If not, she also loves those tall lavender roses. Do you know the ones I mean?"

  "Sterling roses," the florist acknowledged.

  "I want something a little extravagant," he said.

  "A special occasion?"

  "Every day, with this woman."

  "How sweet," the florist told him. "We have some beautiful winter tulips in white and deep purple. Maybe eight or ten of each, and I can mix in a dozen sterling roses to make something spectacular."

  "That sounds perfect."

  "How do you want the card to read?"

  Andy thought it over, tapping on the telephone handset. "How about this," he said. "In the spirit of new beginnings, marry me at midnight on New Year's Eve. Always, only you. Andy."

  "I'm sorry," she teased. "I dropped my pen when you made me swoon."

  Andy laughed. "She wants to s
et a date. I'm setting a date." "Good for you! Taking the bull by the horns."

  "I won't tell her you said that."

  "Oh. Yes. Good idea."

  Two hours after Joan the florist had compared his fiancée to a bull, Sherilyn called to thank him for the flowers. Apparently, Joan had been true to her word, and she'd put together a memorable and spectacular bouquet.

  "I can't get over how beautiful it is, Andy. And your idea about New Year's Eve is inspired! It doesn't give me long for planning, but—"

  "You're a wedding planner," he teased. "Tell me you haven't been planning it every day since I gave you the ring."

  "Well," she laughed. "Maybe."

  "I'm having lunch with my mother today. Are we agreed then? Can I tell her we're going to be married at the hotel on New Year's Eve?"

  "Absolutely. In a small ceremony of about fifty people."

  "Won't she be thrilled." Sherilyn tried to cover it up with her hand over the phone, but Andy heard her snicker. "Can you have dinner tonight?"

  "It will have to be early. I have a wedding at eight. A special bride. I think I told you about her. The one whose mother-inlaw is railroading all of the details."

  "Oh, right."

  "She's just really gotten to me," Sherilyn told him. "She's such a sweet girl."

  Andy smiled. Every one of Sherilyn's brides seemed to take on a special place for her.

  "I'll come over to the hotel around five."

  "Perfect. I'll invite everyone, and we'll have a sort of engagement celebration."

  "Even though we've already been engaged a couple of months."

  "Andy!" Sherilyn crooned. "We've set the date. That's huge!"

  He shook his head and chuckled. "Okay. We'll make a big production out of it. I'll order fireworks."

  "Save those for the wedding," she said dryly. "Along with your witty retorts, Mister Smarty Pants."

  "See you at five."

  Sherilyn could hardly see over the huge crystal vase of flowers, but she wanted them on the table when she and Andy told their friends that their wedding date had been decided at last. She'd asked Pearl to put two bottles of sparkling cider on ice instead of champagne, and she'd invited Emma and Jackson, Fee and Sean, and Russell and J.R. to join them for a "spontaneous" early dinner. Every one of them had accepted.