Meant To Be (The Destiny Series Book 1)

by Karen Stivali

  “Who wants cheesecake?” she asked, silver cake server at the ready.

  When the movie ended, Daniel and Justine said their goodnights and headed home.

  Marienne was rinsing dishes and placing them in the dishwasher when she felt Frank alongside her.

  “I’m tired,” he said. “Come to bed.”

  “I will. I want to start the dishwasher first.”

  “Don’t take all night.” He kissed her and pressed against her hip.

  “I won’t.”

  Before he even made it to the staircase, Marienne’s mind returned to Justine’s comment about their wedding. She was right; it was beautiful. From the rose covered archway, to the bridesmaids’ dresses, to the menu—everything was just right. To anyone watching, it was like a dream. Marienne’s reality, however, was anything but.

  From the moment she’d begun to plan her wedding, her mother had been the main problem, making trouble through every stage of the planning process. Complaining. Putting things down. The final straw had come at the wedding.

  Marienne remembered the evening with crystal clarity. The ceremony and photo session had gone great, with the exception that for most of the time Marienne had needed to pee. No matter how many times she tried to excuse herself, she kept getting swept away by guests who wanted to offer congratulations or kiss the bride.

  When she finally caught a moment alone, she slipped into the large powder room by the private lounge. It was away from the crowd, and she was glad. It was all going so fast; she wanted a minute to herself.

  As she emerged from the stall, she caught sight of herself in the long mirror above the vanity. She looked flushed, but happy. The ornately decorated walls of the bathroom, deep dusty pinks and mauves accented with gold fixtures, cast a warm glow on her silky white dress. The gown had turned out just as she’d wanted, fitted through her tiny waist, and flaring into a luscious, full swirl around her hips. The bodice fit perfectly, lifting her breasts nice and high, and the simple necklace sparkled along the edge of her collarbone. For once, she felt pretty. She reached up to adjust an earring and heard voices coming from the sitting area.

  “Marienne looks absolutely beautiful.”

  Marienne recognized the voice. It was her new mother-in-law, Ruth.

  “Mmmmm.” An equally recognizable voice responded. “Well, she better keep herself looking decent if she wants to hang onto Frank.” Without question that was Marienne’s mother, Lois.

  “Oh, Lois,” Ruth said.

  “I’m serious. Frank is a good-looking guy, and he makes money. I bet he had his choice of women in Manhattan. She better make it worth his while to come home to her.”

  Marienne’s face fell. A mix of hurt and anger rose in her throat. She opened the powder room door and stepped into the sitting room.

  “Marienne.” Ruth stood and rushed over. “Oh sweetie, you look beautiful. Your dress is gorgeous.”

  “Thank you.” Marienne said, unable to stop staring at her mother.

  Lois turned to look up at her. “You should have put your hair up, it’s starting to frizz. Good thing they take the photos at the beginning. Hopefully some of those will come out decent.”

  “Lois.” Ruth sounded desperate. “Isn’t this the most beautiful gown you’ve ever seen?”

  Lois looked Marienne up and down. “Another one she tried on had a slimmer cut. That would have been more flattering. Marienne’s hips don’t need any extra padding. God help you when you have kids, you can’t afford to spread any wider or Frank will leave you for sure.”

  Marienne’s jaw dropped. She noticed the cocktail clutched in her mother’s hand and tried to remind herself that she was always meaner when she was drinking, but still. This was her wedding day, and this was in front of her mother-in-law. How could she?

  “Lois, come, let’s go get some more hors d’oeuvres, I’m starving.” Ruth smoothed a hand over Marienne’s dress, fixing a pleat in her bustle.

  Lois nearly tipped over, but steadied herself and moved toward the door.

  Couldn’t Dad have kept an eye on her, just this one night?

  Ruth kissed Marienne’s cheek. “You look lovely. Frank’s a lucky man.” She followed Lois out of the room.

  Marienne knew Ruth was trying to make her feel better, but it wasn’t working. She knew what her mother meant—once again, Marienne was a screw-up, a disappointment, and any happiness she felt would be short-lived. It hurt to hear the words, but it also made her angry. I’m married now. I have my own life. My own husband. And soon I’ll be done with graduate school, and I’ll have a career. I don’t need my parents or their approval. I can finally break away.

  She walked out of the powder room, shaken but filled with determination. This was going to be a new start, for everything.

  Marienne made it through the rest of the evening, dancing and smiling. She talked with guests, cut cake and fed it to Frank, posed for photos. Even with all that, putting the conversation with her mother out of her mind was impossible. Her stomach churned every time she saw Lois’s sickeningly sweet, fake smile or heard her gushing over how glad she was people came. She was busy taking credit for the lovely wedding that she hadn’t lifted a finger to help plan.

  Marienne and Frank were escorted to the bridal suite. The bellboy towed a large cart of ornate boxes and gift bags behind them. She was desperate to tell Frank what had happened. She needed to know she had his support and understanding.

  Frank, however, needed to know what kind of gifts they’d raked in. He busied himself opening boxes and cards and having her write down who gave them what. No doubt so she could write out all the thank you notes and he could sign them when she was done.

  “My mother,” she said, trying to start the conversation she’d been wanting to have for hours.

  “Jesus,” Frank said, pulling a check out of one of the cards. “The fucking Albertsons gave us five hundred bucks. This is awesome.”

  Marienne decided to wait until they were done opening gifts. When they finally finished she tried again.

  “My mother…” She struggled to keep her voice steady.

  “I don’t want to talk about your mother,” Frank said, pushing her down into the pile of shredded wrapping paper that now covered the bed. He kissed her, his tongue wet and heavy, unfortunately reminiscent of their awkward first kiss. He tasted like scotch and stale coffee. Her body tensed. This is not how it’s supposed to be. This is my wedding night. This is my husband.

  She tried to think of a way to get more into what was happening. Frank’s insistent hands didn’t help. He was pushing away the layers of her dress, trying to undo her garters, pulling aside her panties.

  “So hot.” His tongue assaulted her mouth. “Fucking my new wife in her wedding dress.”

  It was clearly Frank’s wedding fantasy. The fact the bride didn’t share the vision, or the enthusiasm, seemed irrelevant.

  Marienne squirmed, trying to break away, needing a moment to collect her thoughts or at least catch up.

  “Oh baby,” he said. “I love the way you move.”

  She tried to speak, but once again his tongue was deep inside her mouth. She tried to kiss him back. Really tried, desperate to feel something, anything. It didn’t work. For her at least. For Frank it worked too well.

  “Oh yeah.” He moaned, climbing on top of her.

  “Frank.” She attempted to tell him to stop, that she wasn’t ready, but it was too late, he was inside her.

  She gasped, not from pleasure, but from a combination of shock and pain. She was dry, and the friction of him pumping in and out rasped at her tender skin. She moaned in distress, but Frank mistook her cry for passion.

  “Oh baby.” He groaned, thrusting faster. And she stopped resisting.

  She squeezed her eyes closed, trying to block out what was happening, trying not to cry as he jerked harder against her now still body. Within a minute it was over. He shuddered once and collapsed on top of her, his sweaty forehead resting against her neck
. She turned her face away.

  “Oh man.” He rolled off her. “I think I’m going to like married life.”

  Seconds later she heard the first breathy, rattling snore. Tears began to slide down her cheeks. How could this have gone so wrong? She went into the bathroom to undress.

  She struggled out of her gown, twisting and stretching to reach all the buttons. She needed someone to help her, but there was no one. When she managed to get enough undone, she shimmied her way out. The dress puddled around her on the bathroom floor, and instead of wanting to hang it back up in its bag, she had the urge to stuff it in the trash. She didn’t even want to look at it. Her perfect wedding, her perfect day, had turned into a disaster.

  The wedding memories flooded Marienne’s mind with more anguish than she expected. She loaded the last dish into the dishwasher, then hit the start button. She rinsed her hands and dried them, folding the towel when she was done, aware she was trying to buy herself time. She didn’t want Frank to be awake when she went up to bed. Her trip down memory lane was not the best aphrodisiac.

  It’s not my wedding night anymore, and Frank isn’t always in a selfish rush. Maybe tonight will be better. Or maybe he’ll already be sleeping. It bothered her that she couldn’t decide which she hoped for more as she climbed the stairs and headed for bed.

  Chapter 10

  Daniel arrived at the theater on time and was surprised to see that Marienne was already working. He guessed Johanna had asked for extra help, so he waved hello and went to work on the backdrop. He glanced over at Marienne. Her shoulders were slumped and she kept her head down. He was certain he hadn’t done anything to upset her, yet he got the distinct impression that she was avoiding him, which concerned him, greatly.

  The evening wound down, and people were leaving to go home. He finished up then grabbed two Cokes and walked over to Marienne.

  “Need some help?” He handed her a can.

  “No, I’ve got it.” Her voice sounded different. Now he was positive something was wrong.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  She smiled and nodded.

  “I don’t think you are.” He surprised himself with his directness. He wouldn’t normally call someone on an answer like that, but he was worried and unable to stop himself. “Talk to me.”

  “It’s nothing.” The tension was evident in her voice. Her eyes avoided his. “I’m just stressed. It’s a longstanding problem, with my mother.”

  He heard another change in her voice the minute the topic of her mother came up, a cold edginess. He didn’t recall her mentioning her mother before. “Are you close with your Mum?”

  “Not exactly,” Marienne said, in a way that made him think she meant not at all. “We have issues.”

  Daniel sensed her hesitation and decided to let her off the hook. “Everyone has issues. Seriously, I know. I read people’s journals as a mandatory part of my job description.”

  “You read people’s journals?” Her eyes widened, but her voice sounded normal again.

  “Yes. Have to.” He helped her lift the last prop box onto the shelf. “My first time teaching Freshman Writer’s Workshop, I assigned journal writing, as it specified in the curriculum, but I didn’t read them. It felt too invasive. Someone must have complained because word got back to the department chair, and I got a talking to about how all journals needed to be marked and commented on by professors. So I started reading them. I warn my students every semester, assuming they’ll select their topics accordingly, but it doesn’t seem like they do.”

  “Personal stuff?” she asked.

  “Heaps. Super personal. Health issues, sexual conquests and failures, lies told to significant others, fantasies.”

  Marienne was silent.

  “And,” he said, “lots of people complain about their parents.” He paused to gauge her reaction. She seemed more relaxed. “What sort of issues do you have with your mum?”

  Daniel knew that women often had a hard time getting along with their mothers, but he didn’t really understand. His own mother had been great, at least with him. Surely she’d have been a wonderful mother to a daughter as well, if she’d had one.

  “Well,” she said. “My mother is very controlling and she’s… emotionally abusive.”

  Daniel snapped to attention. The idea of someone hurting Marienne made his nostrils flare. He rubbed the side of his face. “Abusive?”

  “My mother’s one of those people who shouldn’t have had more than one kid.” She looked down. “My older sister, Susanna, has always been the ‘golden child’. She could do no wrong in my mother’s eyes, whereas me? Everything I did was wrong.”

  Daniel gripped the Coke can so tightly it buckled. He forced himself to take a sip in an attempt to calm down.

  “My mother thinks everyone should be, or should at least want to be, like her. She hated that I was more like my dad. That’s how I rationalize it, at least.” Marienne shrugged.

  “Susanna is more like your mum?” Daniel wondered how any mother could not like her own child. The concept was mindboggling.

  “Two peas in a pod. I mean, don’t get me wrong, they fight sometimes, but Susanna has always known how to stand up to our mother, and they always come to some sort of an understanding.” Marienne gave a rueful smile, then took a deep breath and let it out. “I used to try so hard to make a relationship with my mother work. I spent my whole life doing it, up until about a year ago, when my father died.”

  Marienne’s voice got very quiet. Daniel’s throat tightened. Her sadness pained him, but he wanted to hear her story.

  “You were close with your dad?” Daniel started, unsure that was the right path to take, and trying desperately to keep too much emotion from spilling into his voice.

  Marienne sighed. “Very. Especially when I was younger. I was a Daddy’s Girl. I mean, he loved me and Susanna equally, but he and I had the same sense of humor, the same quirky habits. My mother and Susanna were jealous, I guess. At the time, I thought they hated me.”

  The last crew members were heading out and Daniel raised a hand to wave good night. The door banged shut, leaving him and Marienne alone in the empty theater.

  He noticed that she still hadn’t touched her Coke, so he opened it and handed it to her. “I’m sure they didn’t hate you,” he said.

  “Don’t be. Susanna was so mean to me. She was constantly putting me down, and my mother would jump in and justify whatever Susanna said. The few times my Dad punished Susanna, it made her even madder at me.”

  “Did he ever confront your mum?”

  “Once in a while he’d say something to her about trying not to be so hard on me, but she would argue and he’d drop it. He was a peacemaker.” Marienne looked off to the side, seemingly unable to look in his eyes.

  “That must have hurt.”

  “My father was my hero when I was little, but when I got older I felt let down. It took me a long time to realize I was worthy of being treated better than my mother treated me. When I did, I got mad at my Dad for not defending me. I know it sounds childish, but it was crushing. He never protected me.”

  Daniel was speechless. Her pain was palpable. He wanted to reach out and touch her, to comfort her in some way. But he was frozen, afraid to move toward her, not knowing how either of them would respond to physical contact in such a heightened emotional state.

  “Did you and your dad eventually work things out?”

  “Sort of.” She sounded, if possible, even more miserable. “We had a big falling out, right after my wedding. I was feeling independent and I wound up not speaking to either of my parents for six months. It was so uncharacteristic for me to take a stand. I tend to be ridiculously loyal, but it felt good to stick up for myself. My dad and I were just starting to talk again when he got sick. Really sick. Really fast. By the time they found the cancer, it had spread throughout his body.”

  Nausea swept over Daniel as memories of his mother’s similar fate flooded his mind.

&nbs
p; “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m sure this is way more than you wanted to know.”

  “No, it’s not.” He kept his eyes focused on hers. “Please tell me.” He’d never talked to anyone about the loss of a parent before and suddenly he felt desperate to do so. She seemed to sense his distress, because after a moment’s hesitation she gave in.

  “As soon as I found out he was sick, I broke the silence with my mom. I’d have done anything to help. I called cancer centers and researched experimental treatments, but none of it did any good.”

  The tears were visible in her eyes, glistening but refusing to overflow. Daniel’s gut twisted as he kept himself in check.

  Marienne’s hair swept over her eyes as she lowered her head, her voice softer. “I’d have conversations with him, in my head. I’d rehearse exactly what I wanted to tell him. Then I’d sit with him and wouldn’t be able to say a word of it.”

  She swallowed hard. Daniel fought the impulse to take her hand. The lump in his throat made it difficult to breathe.

  “When he died, I was relieved he wasn’t suffering anymore. I was almost happy. Then it sank in that he was actually gone.”

  Although the situations were different, Daniel related to every word. As she spoke, he felt as though his heart had stopped beating. No one had ever shared anything like this with him before. The closeness he felt to her defied definition.

  Marienne exhaled a slow, shaky breath. “Anyway,” she said. “That’s why I’m upset. Tomorrow is the first anniversary of his death, which is hard enough in and of itself, but then this afternoon my sister called and she was trying to convince me to call our mom, and I can’t. I just can’t. And it’s making me feel worse. I know it’s the right choice. I just need to get past these next few days.”

  They sat in silence.

  Daniel spoke first. “Tell me one of the similar quirks.”

  “What?”

  “You said you and your father shared the same sense of humor and the same quirks. Tell me one.”