Flower Girl Bride (13 page)

“Well then, this has been fun, but…” As he spoke, he started collecting remaining plates and utensils into a garbage bag, backing away from me at the same time.

“You're not getting off that easily.”

He stopped with one plastic fork still suspended on its way to the trash. One eyebrow raised, he waited.

“I love you, too.” I managed to say it in an even voice though I considered shouting it. I might as well have, as much of Mantua's citizenry was watching us. Everyone around us appeared to be in on the joke, and I'd yet to hear the punch line. The temptation to search for a hidden camera created a tickle up my spine.

“Well, that's good to hear.” He spoke in a quiet, conspiratorial voice, for my ears alone. “I was afraid I was in this love business all by myself.”

Then in front of God and everybody, he leaned in and kissed me full on the mouth. I used to think I had a problem with public displays of affection, but as he touched his lips to mine again, I wondered if it had been my issue at all. I didn't care who saw me here necking in public with the man I loved.

“I have something for you,” he said as he pulled away and settled back on his haunches.

He reached for the container he'd put aside and pulled off its lid. Inside was a huge sugar cookie with pink frosting and purple sprinkles and my name in white script across the top. The whole thing was a perfect complement to the balloons I had back at the house.

“Happy birthday, Cassie!”

Even if his grin hadn't had a bit of sneakiness to it, I still would have been on guard. “Now I know this is a conspiracy. You're just trying to make me eat until I explode. This and the cake?”

He rolled his eyes at my silliness. “You at least want to try it, don't you?”

I shook my head and puffed up my cheeks. “Not just yet. I couldn't eat another bite right now, but thank you. It was so sweet of you to have it made for me. I'll try it later, after some of this big meal wears off.”

Already I was wondering how I'd be able to get back on that bike and ride to my aunt and uncle's after eating so much.

“You wouldn't want me to think you don't appreciate my gift, would you?”

Of course I wouldn't, but why would he? I'd said thank you and everything. What did he expect, a back flip? If riding a bike was an iffy activity for me right now, then gymnastics was out of the question. When I frowned at him, he only smiled.

“Come on, just one bite.”

“Fine.”

My voice sounded harsher than I'd intended, and my exasperated breath was strong enough to rustle nearby trees. Still, I reached over to take the container from him. Eating with an audience would probably prove challenging, and I wasn't kidding when I said I couldn't eat any more, but I was going to sink my teeth into that pink frosting, chew and even swallow if it killed me.

Lifting out the cookie, I raised it to my mouth for a big bite. Just as the confection touched my lips and the smell of the rich frosting invaded my senses, the sunlight glinted off my cookie. I'd eaten plenty of cookies in my day, but I couldn't remember any before that could salve my sweet tooth
and
refract light.

The early morning and lack of sleep the night before
were probably just taking their toll, but I took a closer look at my name written in decorator icing, anyway. There in the dot above the
i
was a beautiful—and very messy—diamond ring. I couldn't do anything but stare, my limbs numb and my jaw falling open.

“So, do you like my cookie?” he asked, grinning. He reached over and plucked the ring from its goopy circle of icing, wiping the icing off the best he could with a napkin.

“I don't understand.”

“It seems self-explanatory to me.”

Maybe it should have been, but it wasn't. Thoughts of rings and vows swirled through my mind. That I thought absently of the choking hazard the ring had presented when I'd already survived one near-Heimlich experience this afternoon gave me a clue that I wasn't on my game here.

“I know what you're thinking. I guess it is a two-for-one cheapskate gift to give you the ring for your birthday, but I promise to make it up next year.”

Next year? There would be a next year for us? I could hardly wrap my mind around the thrill in that. “Let me state for the record that you are an especially lousy mind reader.”

“Good. That'll keep me guessing.”

“Daddy, are you asking Miss Cassie to marry you?” chimed the little voice of reason that I recognized.

Luke made one of those frustrated sounds in his throat. “I'm getting around to it. Give me a minute, will you?”

“Sorry,” Yvonne whispered, trying to ply Sam with yet another cookie.

I was still focused on the boy who would probably have a tummy ache later and on murmured conversations around us that kept including the name “Luke” when I heard the man in question call my name.

“Cassie,” he said when I faced him. He had repositioned in front of me so that he was down on one knee. All the humor was absent from his gaze, but there was warmth there that spoke more clearly to my heart than his words ever could.

“I know we haven't known each other for very long—not as grown-ups anyway—but I feel as though you've been here all of my life.” He indicated with his hand the chest cavity, which cradled his heart.

My own heart squeezed, and I nodded. I felt it, too, as if Luke had always been there, always intended for me.

“I love you more than I thought I could ever love anyone,” he said. “You're more than I wanted for myself, certainly more than I deserve.”

I leaned forward, shaking my head. “No, Luke, you deserve every—”

He raised his hand to stop me. “Are you going to let me finish this or not?”

I gestured for him to go ahead, feeling tense and excited and slightly nauseated, all at the same time.

“Please marry me, Cassie. I think we can make a life together. A long, happy life.”

It was too sudden. Too rash. We needed to think about this, not make life-changing decisions on the spur of the moment. We still had too many questions to answer before we leaped, too many details to handle about melding two very separate lives into one.

And yet the romantic in me battled the pragmatist. If we loved each other, all the other pieces would fall neatly into place. Wouldn't they?

Why was I questioning? I loved Luke and Sam and wanted nothing more than to build a family and a future with them. Like Aunt Eleanor had suggested, I needed to learn to trust.

“Yes, I'll marry you,” I heard myself say, though the confidence with which I said it surprised even me. It was the right thing, and Luke was the right man for me.

With a smile, Luke swept toward me, enclosing me in the comforting circle of his arms. He pressed his lips to mine in a kiss of commitment. That I already knew Luke kept his commitments made the promise even sweeter. “I love you, Cassie,” he breathed against my skin.

When he pulled back, he held the ring out in front of me. Nervously, I extended my hand, and he slipped it on my finger. I looked down at the simple, round solitaire, sitting primly on my finger, its frosting-clouded facets catching the light and causing the colors of the spectrum to dance.

I was to be married again. This time to Luke, who loved me. Not to me with potential, but me.

His hand grasping my fingers where the ring of his promise now rested, Luke drew me in for another kiss. Applause had us pulling apart faster than probably either of us would have preferred. We had an audience, all right. People all around us were staring our way, smiling and shouting their congratulations. Good news must travel fast in Mantua, I concluded, even faster with help.

“The ring bearer's marrying the flower girl,” I heard someone tell the woman next to her.

I suppose we did have a quaintness about us that would be downright irresistible to the romantic set. Which other couples had that kind of history, that kind of tale to tell their grandchildren?

The rest of the afternoon was wonderful: blue skies, a light breeze to keep the bugs at bay and enough activity to make sure even active little boys stayed occupied.

All day, I kept catching Sam watching me, wide-eyed as if he was seeing me for the first time. Each time he crawled up in my lap, I felt the weight of the responsibility I had accepted with his father's ring. No matter how many times I would gently explain that I wouldn't try to replace his mother, the truth remained that I was the only mother Sam would ever know.

In the hours for lawn dart playing and merry-go-round spinning that would continue until the fireworks at dusk, Luke couldn't have been more attentive: touching my shoulder, smiling a secret smile and looking at me as if I was the most precious woman in the world.

He even let me in on the secret that he'd planned to propose the evening before at Gino's, and he'd been so preoccupied with those plans that he'd forgotten the other thing that had been significant about July third.

For a day so perfect, I couldn't understand the seed of doubt that planted itself inside my heart and refused to budge. I loved Luke, right? And I wanted to be his wife and stepmother to Sam, right? The answer to both was a vehement yes. So why did I get the sense that all wasn't perfect in this worldly paradise?

T
he Michigan sky rained for the next three days straight. Oh, it had probably tapered off now and then and even fully stopped for a few intervals in those seventy-two hours, but I never saw anything but the downpour. Outside the window and inside my heart.

I glanced down at my hand as I waited for the microwave to beep, announcing that my TV dinner was ready. Sure enough, the engagement ring was still on my fourth finger. That whole Fourth of July holiday hadn't been just a figment of my imagination if it had produced hardware.

There were other reminders, too—other proof that I hadn't just made the whole day up after too much sunshine and too much alone time along the coast. The muscles in my backside still smarted from the strain of the bicycle parade, even though I hadn't had to make any return journeys on two wheels after the fireworks. Luke and his dad had loaded all three bikes into the back of his truck.

The cake, minus the slices we'd eaten after the fireworks, still rested on the counter in its box, becoming staler by the minute. The balloons would have still been around, too, if they hadn't lost their helium punch and lay on the floor as a temptation for Princess. After catching her chewing on one of the ribbons, I'd punctured their latex skin and disposed of them and their strings before the silly girl hurt herself.

I sat at the table and pulled the plastic film off the chicken something-or-other and the souped-up green beans. I didn't know why I'd even made it because I would only pick at it the way I had the rest of my meals the last few days.

I hadn't been totally alone during this time, not if you counted the calls from Luke and from Aunt Eleanor. His calls had been to tell me he had to work late and to cancel plans each night. Hers to let me know how much she looked forward to seeing me—and the ring—and then to let me know about delays from Charles de Gaulle International Airport out of Paris. They wouldn't make it back until Saturday after all.

“It's just you and me again, Princess.”

At the noise, the kitty looked up from her bowl, but hunger overcame her curiosity about me. One of us at least still had an appetite. It was too late at night to be eating anyway.

Two days and holding.

What was I holding out for anyway? If it was for more time with Luke, I was holding out in vain. He'd asked me to marry him, and though we had so many details to work out before I left the state, I hadn't seen
his face in two days. His family probably hadn't seen it, either. If home was where the heart was, then Luke's true home must have been at the office.

He wouldn't have made the time to see me tonight if I hadn't begged. Demanded was more like it, but a gal had to do what a gal had to do. Now I listened for his truck outside. He'd promised he'd be over soon, but that was nearly an hour ago. Clearly, Luke and I had different definitions of “soon.”

Misgivings that had whispered to me the other day weren't bothering to whisper anymore and were shouting now. Hadn't I already lived this life? No, that was ridiculous. Luke couldn't have been more different from my ex and still have been a member of the human species. Yet I remembered those lonely, empty hours at home. This wasn't my home and Luke and I weren't even married yet, and I was already feeling I'd walked this road once before.

I twisted the ring back and forth on my finger, watching the facets pick up the overhead light, moving and swaying along the ceiling. Strange how it didn't shine as brightly this time.

When I finally heard the truck in the drive, I steadied myself and strode with resignation to the door. Luke stood on the porch, his expression mirroring my dark thoughts, but still he stepped forward and gathered me into his arms. He placed a single kiss on my lips before stepping back.

“Oh man, have I missed you,” he said as if he meant it.

My eyes burned, and something in my throat thickened. I had to look away from him to keep from embarrassing myself by crying.

“I'm glad you talked me into coming tonight,” he continued.

“I've been here all week.” I wouldn't do any good to point out that he could have seen me, or his family, if he'd made the time. For whatever reason, he hadn't.

“I know. I'm sorry.”

Taking my hand, Luke led me to the kitchen table and sat in the seat next to mine. Under the lights, he looked bone weary with dark circles of exhaustion beneath his eyes. Though I recognized that he'd brought all of it on himself, I still longed to reach out and let him sleep on my shoulder.

“Things have just been crazy at work lately, but I promise it will be better soon for you and Sam and me, just as soon as—”

“It will always be something else, won't it?”

Luke had been about to tell me of some deadline or completion date after which our lives would be filled with sunshine and flowers, but he closed his mouth at my words. I'd heard promises like those before, and I refused to gullibly accept them now.

“We're back to this again?” he said finally. “My job? You have no idea what I'm dealing with right now.”

“I guess I don't. Why don't you tell me then? Maybe I could help.”

The strained look he gave me made me wonder if there really was more to his work situation than just repaying his boss for playing hooky on my account. Maybe it was something serious and even temporary. Then he shook his head, and all my magnanimous thoughts fled.

“It's nothing. Nothing I can't handle.”

“Why don't you ask Sam how well you've handled it so far? Or how many times you've had dinner with him lately. That's not going to get better, you know.”

His jaw flexed and then he appeared to compose himself before speaking again. “You agreed to marry me. I would have thought that the least I could expect was some support from you.”

“I'm trying to do that. But don't you see? The more you give up of your life—time with Sam and with me—the more that boss of yours is going to expect you to sacrifice. Haven't you given enough?”

“What do
you
expect me to do, Cassie? Quit? How will I provide for you and Sam if I do that?”

“Provide for us?” I planted my hands on the table. “I never asked you to do that. I have a perfectly good career that I've worked very hard to build. With my income, we could more than decently get by, and you—”

At Luke's shocked expression, I stopped.

“But I assumed,” he began, but let his words fall away.

“You never asked me.” Resting my elbows on the table, I lowered my head into the cradle of my hands. “It sounds like you assumed a lot of things, like that I would automatically give up my entire life in Ohio to move here.”

And that I would come here to raise Sam for his absentee father, but I didn't add that.

“Why wouldn't I assume that we'd live here? Sam's life is here. My family is here.
Your
family is here.”

“The point is we haven't even talked about it yet. You know I'm leaving, and you couldn't even make it over
here for the last two days so we can make such important decisions about our future as where we're going to live.”

“I told you I have a lot to deal with at work right now. If you'd just give me a chance to figure it out—”

“Work is always going to come first for you, isn't it? You say that family is your priority, but that's just lip service. Sam and your parents and now even I are always going to be waiting for you to figure out what's more important.”

I expected him to be angry. That was one of the usual reactions to tough love like I was giving him. What I didn't expect was the grim smile that appeared on his lips.

“It must be nice being you, Cassie. Not all of us have the luxury of sitting on our high horses and pushing our values on everyone else. Some of us are just muddling through, trying to get by.”

My stomach clenched, and I could no longer stay seated. I paced to the family room, pausing by the slider to turn back to Luke. “This isn't about me, though it does affect me. It's about you reevaluating your priorities.”

Luke came to his feet and stalked toward me. “Cassie, you knew who I was when you agreed to marry me. You know my commitments are important to me. All of them.”

I started to interrupt him, to tell him that some commitments simply must rank higher than others, but he shook his head to stop me.

He crossed his arms over his chest. “You knew that I've been breaking my back to make something of
myself, to prove myself to everyone, to make my son proud. You knew that was the man I am when you said you'd marry me.”

“I shouldn't have said yes.”

The words escaped before I could stop them, but once they were out there, hanging between us like an impenetrable fog, I realized I had spoken the truth.

Luke's head jerked as if I'd slapped him, and I felt as if I had. Raw pain on his face mirrored what I was feeling in my heart.

“I'm sorry, Luke. I love you, but I can't marry you.” My voice sounded tired, resigned. “I can never marry another man who doesn't put his family before his career.”

My eyes didn't even bother heating this time before the tears came, and I didn't bother trying to stop them.

Slipping the ring off my finger, I put it in my left palm and extended that hand to him. Already my finger felt bare of the weight and the promise. I loved Luke. Until this very minute I didn't know how much. But loving him didn't mean I could offer myself as a doormat for him to trample. His respect was as important to me as his love.

At first he looked down at the ring in my hand as if it was something loathsome. When I'd held my hand out for so long that it ached, he finally reached over and plucked the ring from my palm and pocketed it. I swiped at the tears streaming down my cheeks.

Luke regarded my tears but looked away before he spoke again. “Good thing we got that settled. I would
hate to think you'd make an awful mistake by marrying someone like me.”

He shrugged as if this conversation mattered no more to him than the weather forecast, though he couldn't hide the vein that ticked at his temple. “I guess the whole thing between us got out of hand for you, especially when you only started seeing me to get closer to my son.”

“You know that's not true.”

“Isn't it?” he asked with a smirk. “You never loved me for me…if you loved me at all.”

I had to fist my hands at my sides because I wanted to reach out and shake some sense into him. “You're wrong. I know the real you, and that's the man I love.” I saw the denial in his eyes. “You're the only one who can't accept you for the person you are. You're the only one who still thinks you have something to prove.”

“You'd understand if you had kids.” There was challenge in his eyes as he said it.

He was hurting, and he wanted me to hurt, but I wasn't going to let him push that sensitive button to get to me this time.

“You could be right. Maybe I would. But I do know Sam. I was almost his stepmother, remember?” I had to pause then because the pain of losing that child of my heart was second only to the loss of his father. “You don't have to do anything to make Sam proud of you. You're his daddy. That's enough.”

“I want him to look up to me, but I don't expect you to understand that.” He glanced past me out the window that faced the dark water. “You've had people looking up to you all your life.”

“Do you want Sam to grow up being proud of your accomplishments but be a complete stranger to you?”

I waited for the weight of my words to sink in and for him to strike back, but I didn't expect it to hurt so much when he did.

“This coming from the person who's so willing to leave here and drop out of our lives forever? You don't get parting shots, Cassie. You don't want to be a part of our lives, a part of our family, so just mind your own business.”

With that, he patted the pocket where he'd shoved the engagement ring, turned and strode to the door. He didn't slam it, but its quiet click reverberated in my ears. Nothing had ever felt so final. Doing the right thing had never felt like such a mistake.

 

My stomach growled for the third time in the last ten minutes, which shouldn't have come as any surprise. I could have eaten a bowl of Raisin Bran four hours ago when I'd started my mad cleaning frenzy, but I'd been too busy scrubbing toilets and adding my tears to the suds to take the time. My aunt and uncle would be here by early afternoon, and I wanted their home to be perfect.

Now I had only sparkling porcelain, shiny floors and burning eyes to show for my efforts, but I kept moving to stay ahead of my thoughts. Fat lot of good it had done me. I'd seen Luke's face in the shiny wood grain while I dusted, replayed our last conversation in the buzz of the dishwasher.

It was only right that a whirlwind romance would end in a whirlwind breakup. What would Aunt Eleanor
say when I told her? Would she still tell me to trust and wait on God?

It was strange. This time I knew I was doing the right thing for the right reasons, but I wasn't prepared for how much it would hurt. We weren't even together very long, but I couldn't imagine a future without Luke in it. I'd pictured myself as Luke's wife and Sam's stepmother, and now I was having an awfully hard time blotting that image from my memory.

I sprayed the mirror in the great room with ammonia cleaner and started wiping with a paper towel. As the smeared glass cleared, I caught sight of my reflection and stared. My skin was blotchy, and my eyes were swollen and red.

My aunt and uncle probably expected that I would look better than when I had first arrived, and they should have been right. I was no longer as gaunt, and even with the sunscreen, I had earned some healthy-looking color. But if my relatives got a load of me right now, they would be sorry they'd ever left me to my own devices while they traveled across France.