“And Pete wanted to surprise you,” Pru added. “Said he couldn’t possibly miss this chance to get you married and settled. Cherie stayed back, but we said we’d send a tape later.”
Merit turned to Paul. “How can I thank you for your gracious gift of travel and friendship?”
“It is my honor, my great pleasure,” the Nehrangese man replied. “Very good to share this moment with you, my friend.” His sonorous voice, both familiar and exotic in this place, filled Merit with longing to hear the flow of Nehrangesi again.
While their guests enjoyed a sampling of hors d’oeuvres at linen-covered tables nearby, the photographer called the wedding party for formal portraits. The only family present consisted of Pru and Tom and kids. Amalia had an older cousin of her mother’s in a nursing home in Peru, Illinois, to the southern-most tip of the state, whom she seldom saw.
Merit touched the delicate shell of her ear around the rim to the pearl drop hanging from her lobe. “We don’t have many relatives,” he said, testing her expression for clues to how she felt.
Her small hand twined in his. Smiling gravely, she told him, “We have each other. That’s enough.”
Amalia’s photographer friend spent a few minutes fussing with her veil and twitching the lacy shawl of the white dress she wore into perfect folds. He loved the way Amalia teased and smirked when the woman brushed Merit’s lapels before she took a series of portraits of the two of them. They watched while she posed the attendants, then the whole party together. By then, Merit’s smile started to melt.
The big hitch came when they tried to find Tom for a family shot with Pru and the kids.
“Tom!” Prudence gathered her long skirt and her flowers, turning to look about the big room, plunged into shadows with the early setting sun. “Where is that man?”
“There.” Pete pointed toward the exit. Tom seemed to be engaged in a heated debate with one of the guests.
“Who is that?” Prudence whispered to Merit.
Merit started to shrug. “I don’t know.” He squinted. “Amalia? Do you recognize him?”
Amalia stared in Tom’s direction. “I don’t think so. Maybe he’s a friend of someone.”
The man with whom Tom spoke raised his face toward them. Merit felt himself drop off the tenuous cliff of reality as he stared at a younger version of Worth. Merit had the high cheekbones of his father’s Scandinavian people, but Justice…Justice had the same darker colored hair and eyes, and looked more like Worth and Pru. Could it be? Or had he succumbed to the delusion of wishful thinking, wanting more family here for them both?
That one moment crystallized with perfect clarity over all the other precious memories of their wedding.
Merit took a step toward Tom and the man. “Pru. Tell me...” He took his eyes off the man for only a second. Pru had been distracted by the photographer. When they turned back, Tom walked toward them alone, tugging at his cufflinks and tie, then smoothing back his hair.
Prudence didn’t mince words. “Tom, who was that?”
Tom’s cheeks shone apple red. “No one. Just a lodge guest who wondered about all the noise, that’s all.”
Merit narrowed his eyes at Pru’s white face. Tom Dayton had never been able to get away with a lie since Merit had known him. Even in high school, if he and Merit’s sister had been ten minutes late getting home after a date and did not have a good enough excuse, Dad always managed to make Tom tell the truth.
But Merit could not step in for his father. He had no idea why his brother-in-law would lie. Surely he would never keep Justice a secret now that they knew he lived? His brother must have wanted to be here. “Please, I need to talk to him. Is he staying here?”
Tom tugged at his tie. “He said he wondered what was going on. It’s nothing, Merit. Drop it.”
“Look, I have a right to see my—”
“It’s not what you think. Not yet. We’re not ready. Drop it.” Tom’s hands closed into fists. He stalked away.
Prudence’s color returned, but she put on her “cool” expression, the one that meant she did not want to know the answers. That, too, did not bode well for Merit’s peace of mind. Amalia looked mystified, and he didn’t blame her. Since she hadn’t met Justice at the campus, she probably wouldn’t recognize him, even from his professional portrait on the campus brochure. He would talk to Amalia later, if he could figure out what to say.
After the delicious dinner—they had chosen the chicken and beef combo—Merit managed to corner his sister. She looked apprehensive as he approached, but he didn’t plan on letting her get away. Pru wrapped her dress jacket a little more snugly around her waist as she turned to study the three-layer wedding cake awaiting the traditional first cut.
“I can’t tell you anything,” Prudence warned.
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Do you really believe that if I knew anything about where he lives now, or why he wouldn’t come rushing in, that I would keep it from you? I’ve been trying as hard as anyone to figure this out.”
Merit put a hand on Pru’s shoulder. “Of course I trust you, Sis. But you and I both know Tom’s keeping something from us.”
Pru put her hand on her mouth. Her shoulders trembled under Merit’s touch. “He’s always been a terrible liar. That’s one of the reasons I love him.”
Not that terrible if he could keep the secret of their niece all these years. “I love him, too, Pru. We need to ask at the desk, at least. Right? Find out if he’s staying here. This place is pretty far for a casual drive. He wants to see us. I know it.”
“Justice isn’t a boy anymore. If that was him. By now he’s grown up and learned to make up his own mind. If he came all this way, nothing would keep him away if he really wanted to come in.”
“I want to see him.”
“Maybe he changed his mind. If he’s even here. I trust Tom.”
Merit was about to say “I don’t” when he realized how low he’d sunk. On his wedding day. He wanted to break something and forced the thoughts away. He looked at Paul and thought of the mountains, the jingling bells of the goats and drew upon the memory of walking the path toward the clinic. Slowly he calmed.
He looked across the room where Pru’s husband of a decade stood alone and stared at them, fidgeting with his glass, pursing his lips and shaking his head as if in silent conversation with an invisible partner.
Pru must have sensed his change of temper. She turned away, hunched over, and whispered, “I heard him on the phone before we started out. Yesterday. He said something about the wedding. I thought he had one of his buddies on the line. Tom told him not to crash it, or something. But why would any of those guys drive all this way? It didn’t make any sense. I’ll talk to Tom. Please, don’t let this interrupt your special day. Justice is an adult.” She grimaced. “I’m not always so sure about Tom. But, no matter what Tom did or said, he did it because he thought it was the best way to handle the situation. I believe that. It couldn’t have been him.”
Merit patted his sister’s shoulder gently. “It’s okay, Pru. I’m not going to make a scene.” The two of them turned their backs to the cake to watch Merit’s bride approach. Amalia held out a long cake server, brandishing it like a saber as she came toward them.
Amalia must not have seen the mystery guest. Merit let it drop for now. He touched her lips lightly with his. “Time already? The cake is so beautiful I almost hate to slice it up.”
They held a pose while the photographer blasted away. Those gathered to watch clapped. The string quartet played while Amalia’s beautiful cake became little wedges on plates.
Finally the long day closed. Merit and Amalia escaped to privacy.
TWENTY-FOUR
In their room at the lodge the morning after the wedding, Amalia folded her beautiful white satin dress away and zipped the bag over it. She had felt so regal, dressed like a princess in a short little cape attached to the high neckline of the dress. Long sleeves had been artfully embroidered with pearls
and beads. A matching swish of the same design flowed down the skirt. Her hand lingered. Mother had not lived to see her in a wedding dress. Maybe she and Merit would have a daughter who would wear the dress at her own wedding.
Amalia hadn’t wanted to complain, but she missed her parents. Her father should have walked her out of her old life and into the new. She’d considered asking Angus to walk her down the aisle to Merit, or even Lawrence, but in the end, she had gone alone. At least Pete and Paul had been there for Merit. She had been right about the look on Merit’s face being the perfect reward for her efforts.
Warm hands slid across her shoulders. Flush with the memories of the past hours, Amalia turned into her new husband’s embrace. After a deep, but brief kiss, she hid her face against his throat, putting her lips to his Adam’s apple. Spicy hints of shaving gel mingled with the cocoa butter soap supplied by the lodge.
Merit’s hand smoothed her hair. “Are you okay?”
Amalia nodded, laughing a little. “Everything’s different.”
Merit held her away from him to search her face. “For the better, I hope.”
“Oh, yes, much better.” She smiled into his knowing eyes. “No more going home alone.”
He let her go so they could finish packing.
Pru said she would take their formal clothes back to their house where she and Tom and Paul would stay one more night.
Their house. Amalia would move into the big house with Merit.
Amalia had hoped her husband wouldn’t demand she sell her parents’ home, and he had not. He had merely asked what she planned to do, and accepted her distracted statement that she had not yet decided. Merit had lived with almost no personal possessions for many years, while she had a lifetime stuffed away in the childhood home she couldn’t bear to sell. For now, she planned to move things gradually to her new house, give herself time to adjust, think things through before making permanent changes.
Her husband looked so handsome this morning, dressed in the maroon-striped straight-collared shirt Amalia liked, and dark jeans. She smiled at the feel of the thick silver ring that matched the one she had placed on his finger yesterday. Merit had refused her offer of paying for anything more elaborate out of her father’s account. They had exchanged simple bands etched with an Irish love knot. Every time she wiggled her fingers, she took delight in his thoughtful design.
When they were ready to leave the sanctuary of their room, Amalia reached for Merit’s hand. He slung their overnight bags over his shoulder and led the way into the quiet hall, closing the door behind them.
They had elected to spend several days at a small inn just over the southern border in Kentucky. Too early for prime tourist season, they had to balance the benefits of having solitude and finding services available in the dead of winter. Neither of them felt inclined to travel to any place exotic or far away, and Merit claimed to want to explore his newly adopted state of Illinois. Time for themselves, to get to know each other better, was all Amalia wanted. She already knew he ate very little meat but liked pasta. On the trip she learned he preferred yogurt and cereal for breakfast and neither of them cared much for shopping or antiques. They both enjoyed looking at different architecture styles and watching people.
For now, they only needed each other.
* * *
Merit worked long hours at the church events that took place around Lent and Easter, so Amalia felt no guilt at the amount of time her business demanded. While she delighted in the small tasks her husband had her given at church, like helping to choose some of the music and picking out bulletin designs with Mrs. Field, she knew he did that mostly so they could find time together. And time together had become a rare commodity in their two-month-old marriage. The best moments to catch up took place during their monthly trips to Chicago to visit with the Nehrangese refugees. With Jordyn and Angus spending more time together, Amalia hadn’t even gotten a girls night out since the wedding.
Merit’s friend Paul Dal’Chindri stayed in the States and took up work at the embassy. With so much unrest at home, only six of the families had been able to go back.
The Tuesday before Easter, Amalia performed her usual tasks at Demarest’s for a family who had come for a long-expected funeral.
As she pivoted to serve more of the canapés the family had ordered, her cell phone buzzed in its clip against her waist. Amalia checked the number of her caller, curious to see it came from Prudence. Pru had not called often since the wedding. Something had happened among her, Tom, and Merit. Even after Merit explained what they thought they’d seen at the wedding, she felt apprehensive. The strain kept the siblings from their camaraderie, and Amalia, as an only child, had no clue how to help. As far as she could tell, Merit had done nothing further to search for his brother. Merit tensed up and replied in clipped tones both times she tried to bring up the subject.
Amalia popped into the coat room to answer.
“Hi, Prudence.” The silence on the other end reminded Amalia of the call she’d received when Bunty had run away. She shivered. “Prudence?” Amalia paced about, trying to find a clear signal, but the phone showed full reception. A hiccup broke through. “Pru! What is it?”
“Tom.” Prudence cleared her throat. Amalia could barely hear her ragged whisper. “Oh, help me…it’s Tom.”
“What happened?”
“Fire. A big fire. He didn’t…Amalia…this time he didn’t come back.”
“Prudence, did you call Merit?”
“He doesn’t answer.”
“Tom’s hurt?” Amalia closed her eyes, begging God for a different answer. A sob, an utterly heart-wrenching sob from the woman Amalia loved as the sister of the heart made her bite her lip involuntarily, hard enough to feel her teeth click. Her phone went dead.
Hudson stuck his head around the corner, his look of concern changing to one of green-hued shock. Amalia put a finger on her chin as she felt a rolling drip. She stared at the crimson drop she took away. Hudson barreled the rest of the way inside the small coat area. The drip turned to a flood she could feel rushing warmly onto her blouse. He pulled a white silk square from his jacket pocket and pressed it to her mouth. “Come.” He eyed the dark, silent cell phone, then took it from her hand.
Hudson led her around the back way into his apartment. “Is it about that husband of yours? I should have known. Sit, my dear. Hold this. I’ll return shortly.”
Amalia pressed the cloth against her mouth. She didn’t feel any pain. Merit needed to know about Tom right away. After a few moments, she held the cloth away from her lip, dabbed and pressed it tight, welcoming the sting. Amalia used Hudson’s telephone to dial the church office, since Pru said he had not answered the other numbers.
Hudson returned. Amalia listened to the ring, still holding the cloth to her mouth, until the answering machine picked up. She replaced the receiver quietly.
He frowned and pulled her hand away, tipping her chin to get a better look at the cut. “You may need stitches. I’ll get some ice. Then, please tell me about your call.”
She told him Pru’s devastating announcement. “You shouldn’t leave the family alone too long, Hudson.”
“They’ll be all right for the time being. I may need to drive you to see Dr. Bader.”
“Thank you, but I don’t think that’s necessary.”
“And your husband has made himself unavailable to his own family?” Hudson held the back of Amalia’s neck while he applied the ice-filled cloth to her lip.
“I’m sure he has good reason.” Amalia’s words came mumbled. She backed away from Hudson. “Thank you. If you could manage from here, please, may I leave? It really is an emergency.”
He nodded. “As you wish. I’m sorry you were so upset, Amalia. I wish you would wait until I can take you home.”
Tears threatened to spill. She hurried from the room before she allowed herself to wallow in Hudson’s sympathy. She drove to the church, glad for the light traffic. Merit’s car was in its usual place. S
he used her key to open the back door and then walked toward the office. Only the hall sconces lit up the darkened building. Amalia touched her swollen lip, unsure where else to look for Merit.
As she turned to go back outside, she caught sight of the altar inside the glassed-in sanctuary. A lone figure knelt on the step leading to the table and standing cross. Merit.
Amalia opened the door with a quiet swoosh. He raised his head. Without looking around he said with some asperity, “Please. I’ll be with you in a moment.”
“Merit, I need—”
“I’ll. Be. Right. There,” he ground out.
Amalia dropped into the last pew, stunned at his reaction. He’d never acted angry before. Why now? To come to terms with the pain, she pretended to be a parishioner who’d interrupted her pastor by coming early to an appointment. She bowed her head to try to pray, but no words came as she listened to Merit approach.
“Is it too much to ask to be allowed one hour of privacy? I asked for one hour to pray for my congregation, and I’m not even allowed that. Amalia, I thought you were working tonight.”
Amalia raised her face and knew satisfaction at his sharp intake when he saw her face and blouse. He dropped to his knees before her and held out a hand, but his tone had shredded her sympathy. She stared at him, ignoring his plea. Anger stomped out her sorrow and fear. “Both you and God have abandoned your family tonight. Your sister needs you, and you couldn’t bother answering her call? I hope you’re not praying for compassion.”
The words burned the air. Amalia closed her eyes briefly, wishing she could take them back, to undo her helpless fury and despair. Merit’s hand dropped as he gaped in disbelief. She touched the back of his wrist. “Please, please I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry.” She drew his cold fingers to her face. “Please forgive me,” she whispered.
“One of the kids? Tom?”
“Prudence called. She couldn’t find you and called me. She said…oh…”
Merit rose, pulling her along. “Said what? What happened?”
The Last Detail Page 23
