Bridal Trap

by Rena McKay

  Oh, she would be so glad when this was all over and Trev went away and she could get him out of her mind! And then she remembered in horror that if she was wishing that she was also wishing for Mrs. Barrone's death, because the two were inextricably entwined. No, she didn't want that at all! How could she even have such thoughts?

  She drove over to the hospital the following evening but saw Mrs. Barrone, already drowsy from a pill, only for a minute. Trev was not around, though an aide said Robyn had just missed him. The wide-eyed young aide referred to him as Trev, not Mr. Barrone. Spreading his charm around, no doubt, she thought contemptuously.

  The next morning Robyn was at the hospital before seven. The receptionist wasn't even on duty yet. A nurse waved Robyn on by. They knew her here now. It was all becoming so familiar, so terribly, painfully, familiar.

  Trev's set, unreadable expression was familiar, the waiting room familiar, the cafeteria where they breakfasted during the surgery, familiar. By now little things about Trev were familiar too. He liked his coffee black, bacon crisp, eggs over-easy. He disliked sweet rolls, fake cream and cigarette smoke blown in his face, and he wasn't above freezing a smoker with an icy glare until the offending cigarette was put out.

  The operating surgeon had a second surgery scheduled immediately after Mrs. Barrone's and could not talk to them. The assisting doctor, Dr. Helgeson, stopped by to say noncommittally that everything went as well as could be expected. Mrs. Barrone was in the recovery room and it would be several hours before they could see her.

  Trev suggested that Robyn might as well go home, but she refused, of course. They waited, the hours dragging by. Late in the afternoon Dr. Martin finally came around. He had just been to check on Mrs. Barrone. He had big, almost beefy hands, Robyn noted irrelevantly. It was difficult to imagine him doing delicate surgery. His manner today was quite different from their earlier meeting with him. He was smiling, cheerful. No, more incredulous than cheerful, Robyn thought.

  "She's doing fine," he said, shaking his head unbelievingly. "By all rights, she shouldn't be. At her age and in her condition, what with the stroke and the fracture, to say nothing of the chronic arthritic condition she's suffered for years… Its almost unbelievable."

  "She's a pretty tough old girl," Trev said. He sounded proud.

  The doctor looked at Robyn. "Let's see, you must be Robyn, right?" He looked back at Trev. "And I understand the two of you are going to be married soon. Congratulations."

  "How did you know that?" Robyn gasped.

  "Mrs. Barrone was quite talkative just before she went under the anesthetic." He laughed. "I think she's more interested in the wedding than her surgery."

  "Is she going to recover?" Robyn asked. "I mean, really recover so she can go home before long?"

  The doctor's blue eyes turned thoughtful. "I can't guarantee that, of course. As a matter of fact, it's rather difficult, medically speaking, to explain her surprising progress so far. She came through the surgery far better than I expected. And yet I've seen this happen before. For some specific reason a person will set sights on living and against all odds somehow manage to do it. Sometimes when a patient has something special to live for, somehow she just does it, no matter what. I think that is what has happened to Mrs. Barrone. She's so happy about your forthcoming marriage. I gather it is a fairly recent decision?" He looked inquiringly at Robyn.

  "Yes, fairly recent," Robyn murmured, her eyes sliding away uneasily.

  The doctor stood up. "Well, it's better than any medicine I could give her, that's for certain." He thrust a hand at Trev. "Congratulations again. You're a very lucky man."

  "A wedding—takes time," Robyn faltered. "Do you really think—I mean, will she really live to see it?"

  "She seems determined to." The doctor paused. "But if you really want her to be there… Well, I wouldn't wait too long."

  Robyn and Trev stood at the window watching the doctor stride down the hall. Trev's lips were compressed, his expression remote.

  As once before, Robyn said uneasily, "Now what?"

  Trev's voice was dry. "I think we'd better start planning a wedding."

  "A wedding!" Robyn gasped.

  With grim determination Trev persisted, "It can be arranged."

  Chapter Six

  They saw Mrs. Barrone for a few minutes later that day, and Robyn usually drove over for an evening visit after that. She had been neglecting business in her gift shop and she suddenly realized that she had actually failed to open the shop one weekend. Mrs. Barrone made uneven progress, which Robyn found discouraging, though the doctor continually expressed wonder that she was making progress at all. Robyn usually let Trev answer Mrs. Barrone's inquiries about the "wedding". He kept the hospital room bright and fragrant with fresh flowers and always had amusing anecdotes about little incidents around the hospital to lift her spirits.

  By now it was all over Caverna Bay that Robyn was officially engaged to Trev. The hardest part for Robyn had been telling Larry. He was shocked, almost stunned. She longed to confide in him, but that was impossible. Robyn found herself always tense, her nerves brittle. The more she was around Trev, the more confused she felt. She had never met a man who made such an impact on her. His pretense of affection in Mrs. Barrone's presence was pure agony for her, and yet she found herself living for those moments, dreading the caress of his hand on her arm or waist and yet yearning for it too. And sometimes, in a kind of horrified fascination, she found her fantasies taking those caresses further…

  Why did he do it? she sometimes wondered in frustration and fury. She knew it wasn't only for Mrs. Barrone's benefit because sometimes when Mrs. Barrone couldn't see what he was doing, he caressed the nape of her neck beneath her hair or brushed his fingertips tantalizingly across her skin. Probably, she thought angrily, he did it because he knew exactly how it affected her, knew she was powerless to object, and somehow he found that amusing. On one Friday evening Robyn arrived at the hospital a little later than usual. The battery in her car had unexpectedly gone dead and she'd had to call the service station for help. When she walked into the hospital room, Trev rose to greet her with his usual kiss on the cheek. She hated the phoniness of his display of affection and yet the touch left her trembling.

  Tonight she brushed on by him as quickly as possible, not letting herself look into those amused, mocking eyes. "You look marvelous," she said gaily to Mrs. Barrone, planting a kiss on the faded cheek.

  "You don't," Mrs. Barrone observed tartly.

  "Oh come now, Grandma, she's the prettiest girl in town and you know it," Trev said reprovingly.

  "Beautiful, yes," Mrs. Barrone agreed, eying Robyn critically. Her speech was almost back to normal now. "But—peaked. And I think I know why. It's these wedding plans. There's something wrong here."

  Robyn felt a sinking rush of dismay. Mrs. Barrone knew! Somehow she had found out that this was all just a terrible pretense.

  Robyn took a deep breath. "I'm so sorry—"

  "Nothing for you to be sorry about," Mrs. Barrone said briskly. "It's just that I know you too well. You've always had your heart set on a church wedding, haven't you?"

  Robyn's lips parted in astonishment. Yes, that was true. She had always pictured her wedding, her real wedding, taking place in the sacred setting of a church. She truly believed marriage was forever and a church had always seemed the only proper place to take such vows. But that had nothing to do with this farce!

  "Oh, no, I'm delighted with our plans to be married here in your room," Robyn said hastily.

  "No, you aren't, or you wouldn't be looking as droopy as a sick plant." Mrs. Barrone's eyes darted to Trev. "Isn't that true, Trev?"

  Trev shrugged and murmured something noncommittal.

  "In fact—I have a fuzzy memory of you describing the wedding to me—something about baskets of flowers and a white dress and organ music," Mrs. Barrone continued dreamily.

  With rueful amazement Robyn realized Mrs. Barrone's sharp mind had somehow
picked up and retained, and perhaps even enlarged, those ridiculous babblings of hers. She looked to Trev for help but he was absent-mindedly twisting a vase of roses with one hand and staring off into space. A little desperately Robyn turned back to Mrs. Barrone. "Really, I don't mind having it here."

  "No, I insist," Mrs. Barrone said, "you have your church wedding."

  Robyn felt a conflicting surge of thoughts and emotions. One part was relief. They wouldn't have to go through some ridiculous phony ceremony here in the room. They would simply have to tell her the truth now. Well, maybe not the whole truth, Robyn amended as she looked at Mrs. Barrone's lined but bright and eager face.

  With sudden inspiration Robyn said, "We couldn't possibly have a church wedding without you, so we'll just postpone it for a while." There, that would keep Mrs. Barrone's spirits up, and then they could just gradually let the "engagement" drift away.

  But Mrs. Barrone was having none of that. "Oh no," she said firmly. She distastefully eyed the bulky lump of her bandaged body and leg. "I don't care what these . silly doctors say. You make the plans and I'll be there. I'll make it to your wedding if—if it kills me!" she finished a little breathlessly.

  Robyn looked helplessly at Trev again, but his face was inscrutable. Mrs. Barrone looked at him expectantly.

  "Whatever Robyn wants is fine with me," he murmured.

  Robyn's lips tightened angrily. He was unfairly putting the burden of all this on her! "We'll have to think about this," she finally managed to say. "It's quite a change in plans."

  "You do it up right," Mrs. Barrone said. "Church, reception, the whole thing. And I'll be there. You can count on it."

  Robyn rose to go but Trev made no move to leave. Robyn walked around and deliberately tucked her hand under his elbow. "Come on, darling," she said sweetly.

  It was the first time she had used one of his phony terms of endearment. "We have a lot of things to talk about."

  They both kissed Mrs. Barrone good-bye. At least that affection wasn't counterfeit, Robyn thought. She waited until they were down the hall and well out of Mrs. Barrone's range of hearing before she spoke.

  "Obviously the time has come to tell her the truth," Robyn snapped, angry at the lack of help he had given her in Mrs. Barrone's presence.

  "The truth?" he repeated with a lift of dark eyebrows. "That we've been lying all along? That we made up the whole story just for her benefit?"

  Robyn bit her lip. Suddenly she realized she still had her hand under Trev's arm. She jerked it away. Finally she said evasively, "We wouldn't have to be that blunt. We could just tell her the engagement was off, that we've decided we aren't right for each other. We could make it plain that it didn't affect how either of us felt about her."

  Trev said nothing. They brushed by a knot of worried looking people in the main lobby and Trev pulled the heavy outside door open, his face impassive. Outside a light rain was falling.

  "Are you listening to what I'm saying?" Robyn cried, frustrated by his silence. "We have to do something! We surely can't fake a church wedding."

  He stopped and looked down at her squarely. "Then we'll have to have a real one," he said stonily.

  "You're out of your mind!" Robyn gasped. "There's no way we can have a 'real' wedding. We must tell her something. She's better now, stronger—"

  "Yes, she is," Trev agreed. "Are you going to be the one to destroy the progress she's made? Tell her it was all a lie and break her heart and kill her?"

  "I told you, we could be more—tactful than that."

  "And break her heart one piece at a time instead of with one big blow? If you can do it, go ahead. But I can't," he said flatly.

  "Oh, come on," she scoffed contemptuously. "You fought and loved your way through how many miles of jungle and you can't—"

  "I can't."

  "You mean you won't!"

  He shrugged. "What difference does it make?"

  Yes indeed, what difference did it make, Robyn agreed angrily. In either case, it was obvious he did not intend to do anything. If Mrs. Barrone was going to be told anything, truth or half-truth, Robyn herself would have to do the telling.

  "That isn't fair," Robyn complained bitterly. They had reached the cars parked side by side now, his sleek Ferrari, her secondhand compact. "I should never have listened to this crazy idea in the first place."

  He laughed humorlessly. "Do you think it's something I'd have suggested if you hadn't yelled at me about giving my grandmother something of myself? You seemed to have a rather low opinion of the things I'd tried to do for her. As I recall, my gift of a microwave oven came in for particular criticism."

  That was true, Robyn thought unhappily, feeling a slow tide of color flood her face. She was as much to blame as he was for the tangle they were in. And yet they had to do something. They were getting in deeper all the time, like a trap that was slowly but inevitably closing around them, and they were powerless to escape.

  Robyn tried again. "But you can't mean that you are willing—that you intend to go through with this. I mean, we are talking now about a real wedding, a marriage." Her tongue seemed to twist helplessly around the words.

  "Real marriages come to an end too," he said harshly. "The end just comes sooner for some than others."

  Yes, of course, Robyn thought slowly. A legal wedding, a quickie divorce later after Mrs. Barrone's death. For all practical purposes the ceremony would be as phony as the one they had planned to stage in Mrs. Barrone's room. It would be more complicated, of course, and there would be the messy details of divorce or annulment afterward. But it still wouldn't be real.

  And so, almost dazed, Robyn found herself caught up in a small whirlwind of wedding preparations. Trev grimly said that cost didn't matter; he'd pay for everything. She shopped in Eureka for a wedding dress. She shopped around for a new dress for Mrs. Barrone to wear too, spending lots of time describing the dresses she had seen to that delighted elderly woman. They talked about whom to invite to the wedding, what music the organist should play and what kind of cake to order for the reception.

  Robyn was gratified to see how happy all this made Mrs. Barrone. She was always cheerful, always in good spirits. She was determined to be able to attend the wedding, and by now Robyn had no doubts but that she would make it.

  Robyn hedged as long as possible on actually setting a date for the wedding, but finally it got to the point where nothing more could be done unless a specific date was set. They chose a Friday afternoon at two o'clock. That would mean Mrs. Barrone's elderly friends could attend and still get home before dark.

  Robyn asked Beth Hylder, a childhood friend, to be her one attendant. For best man, Trev chose Dr. Helgeson, whom he had gotten fairly well acquainted with around the hospital.

  A wise choice, Robyn had thought wryly. With not only Mrs. Barrone but also all her elderly friends around, a doctor might very well come in handy. The implication in the fact that Trev did not call on some old friend to be best man was not lost on Robyn, however. Nor were any of his family or friends coming. He had simply shrugged when Robyn asked if there was anyone he wanted to invite. Robyn suspected that except as a local event, the whole marriage and divorce would be very hush-hush, definitely not something he'd care to have publicized.

  In spite of all the preparations none of it seemed quite real to Robyn. Even getting the blood tests and license were just more playacting. And yet always in the back of her mind, and sometimes rising to the surface at strange, discomfiting moments, was that odd thought: What if this were all for real? What if it weren't just a carefully staged scene, phony as a movie set? What if when they said, "I do," they really meant they were pledging themselves to each other? And even deeper in Robyn's mind was another thought, a more disturbing one, a thought she dare not face. Something she must keep hidden even from herself.

  There was one especially painful, awkward moment. That was when she almost apologetically asked Larry to give her away at the wedding. He agreed, of course. Probably h
e was too stunned to say no, she thought guiltily. Then he asked a question: What were their plans for after the wedding? Robyn could only answer evasively, murmuring vaguely about Mrs. Barrone's condition and some projects Trev had in mind. Mrs. Barrone hadn't asked about plans, and that future was something Robyn had blacked out of her mind, a bridge to cross when they came to it. Sometimes she had the uneasy feeling Trev intended to spring some unpleasant surprise on her, but he was withdrawn and silent on the few occasions they were alone.

  The Friday arrived. Robyn woke with a tense knot already formed in her stomach. For a moment she couldn't remember why. Then it hit her. This was her wedding day. The happiest day of a girl's life, she thought ironically, and she was loath even to get out of bed.

  What was Trev thinking this morning? No doubt wishing, as she was, that he had never gotten tangled up in this mess. And yet, in spite of herself, she felt a tingle of excitement. No one but she and Trev knew this wasn't a real wedding. Everyone thought they were in love. And why wouldn't they think that? Robyn thought, half-angrily. Trev certainly gave a convincing performance whenever they were around anyone.

  If only that pretense didn't affect her so, she thought, anger directed at herself now. If only the touch of his hand didn't make her tremble, the feel of his lean body send a wild shiver of excitement through her, the look of his smouldering eyes ignite a flame somewhere deep within her. It was crazy. He was doing no more than acting. They should have starred him in his own movie, she thought contemptuously. And yet…

  By tonight it would all be over and she would be back here in her own bed. All she had to do was somehow get through the day.