The Isaac Project (16 page)

“Come here, sugar.” Poppy patted an empty spot on the bed next to him. “Tell me about your fella.”

I propped my hip on the mattress and took Poppy’s hand in mine.

“What would you like to know?” I asked, trying to keep the trepidation out of my voice. I had no intention of telling Poppy a bold-faced lie, but I also didn’t plan on telling him the complete truth. I was walking a fine line, which was why I’d hoped this conversation wouldn’t take place.

“Where did you two meet?”

“Lisa introduced us a while back.” As in, two weeks ago. Over the phone. Being vague was not lying.

“When did you know you were in love with him?”

I swallowed hard. Love? This would be a tricky one to answer. “Does anyone ever know the exact moment they fall in love?” Answering a question with a question seemed the safest bet.

“How did he propose?”

Finally, a question I could answer for real. I smiled. Even though Luke had just proposed yesterday, with all the events that took place since then, it felt like forever ago. When I’d first asked Lisa to find me an “Isaac,” I thought having someone propose to me was something else I was giving up. But I was wrong.

“Well, he took me to a restaurant”—no reason to tell him it was the diner—“and in front of everyone”—about five people— “got down on one knee and asked me to marry him.”

I caught Poppy staring at me, and the pressure on my hand increased.

“Are you happy, sweetheart? You sure this is what you want to do? You and James just broke up not that long ago.”

I tried not to blink. Or twitch. Tried not to gulp down the saliva that was gathering in my mouth, or wipe away the sweat beginning to form on my palms. Nothing that would give me away. How could I tell him I wasn’t sure? That I had only met Luke the day before, and even though I felt God’s guidance, there was still a sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach? That my chest felt like it was in an ever-tightening vise, and I couldn’t take a full breath? That I was scared spit-less, but I was doing it all because of him? For him.

I could never say any of that, so I plastered on what I hoped was a believable smile and a lovesick expression.

“I’m sure.”

***

Poppy was once more resting, and I had just finished talking with the doctor as he was doing his rounds. He told me they were going to keep Poppy one more day for observation, but it looked like he was doing better. He assured me there wasn’t anything they could do for him there at the hospital that they couldn’t do for him back at Grandview.

As I was thanking the doctor, I noticed Rita strolling down the hallway toward me, a big grin stretched on her face. She held a stark white garment bag reverently in her hands. The bag was so long that Rita risked tripping on the edge that was trailing the ground.

“What are you doing here? What do you have?” I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me. She was still in her scrubs and appeared to have come straight from work at the nursing home.

“It your wedding dress.” She stretched out the garment bag for me to take.

My wedding dress? Like an out-of-body experience, my arms reached out and took the bag. How did Rita have money to bring me a wedding dress? Was it a family dress? Wait. How did Rita know I was getting married today?

Moisture gathered in the corner of my eye, and I blinked it back. The kindness Rita was showing me, especially since we’d been friends for only a short amount of time, humbled me. My throat tightened with emotion. I had resigned myself to the fact that my wedding would not have even a hint of anything traditional. No white dress, no bouquet of wedding flowers, no wedding cake to cut and feed to my groom, no first dance. Rita had changed that. I would be able to wear a gown and at least look like a real bride.

I realized I had been staring at the gift in my arms and had not yet expressed my deepest gratitude. Lifting my head, I looked Rita in the eyes and opened my mouth to try to articulate how much this meant to me.

“It from Mr. Luke,” she said before any sound passed my lips. “He ask me give to you.”

“Luke?” I struggled to wrap my mind around that thought. “Luke asked you to give this to me?”

“Yes.” She said the word on a sigh, and I could tell she was halfway in love with my groom already.

“He say he get chaplain and to meet in Mr. Sawyer room in
veinte minutos
.”
Shaking her head, she clarified, “Twenty minutes.”

“Twenty minutes?” I yelped.

“I help.” She slung off her backpack and withdrew two bags. One looked like a makeup case, and the other held a brush and some pins and other hair accessories.

***

Luke

Standing in Mr. Sawyer’s hospital room, I chatted with the chaplain. Some of my married friends told me about how nervous they were as they stood at the front of the church and waited for their brides to walk through the door and down the aisle, but I didn’t have a single butterfly in my stomach. All I felt was peace and anticipation—as if I had just won a great prize in a raffle I hadn’t even realized I’d entered.

I tried to give the chaplain my full attention as he droned on and on about the theology of marriage starting at creation with Adam and Eve. Normally I would have thought the conversation stimulating, but there were other things on my mind. I kept checking the door, waiting for the first glimpse of Becky.

I wasn’t disappointed.

When the door began to open, a hush fell in the room, and every eye turned. Rita came in first, her smile stretching from ear to ear. A rustling of fabric, a flash of white, and a picture of bridal perfection graced our presence. I had no idea if the dress was A-frame, dynasty, or whatever other style the saleslady said. All I knew was the dress was nice, but the woman wearing it took my breath away.

***

Rebekah

I felt like a princess. I had been astounded that Luke would know my size and pick out such a beautiful gown. The bodice, with its built-in corset, hugged my body, while the skirt, with its many yards of material, flowed out from my hips in a bell shape. Rita had curled my hair into loose ringlets and attached a single flower to the side of my head. She’d thrust a bouquet of flowers into my hand, telling me that they too were from Luke. Looking in the bathroom mirror, my breath caught. I was a bride, and I was about to get married!

My pulse raced as Rita opened the door. Would Luke like what he saw? In my attempt to keep my hands from shaking, I might have squeezed the stems of the bouquet a little hard. Would he think I was pretty in his beautiful gift?

Taking a steadying breath, I stepped through the door after Rita. My gaze shifted nervously between the three men and one nurse who occupied the room besides Rita and me. Like a magnet, my focus was drawn to Luke. Everyone else faded. My groom stood tall and proud. The broad shoulders that I was sure had carried their fair share of people out of burning buildings cut a fine figure in his white buttoned-up shirt. Perhaps those shoulders would carry me through my own emotional emergency. His gaze never wavered, and his eyes darkened. My breath caught at the intensity of his gaze. Instead of shuttering his manly desire and admiration, he was completely open, as if he wanted me to see what he was thinking.

In place of the wedding march, I walked toward my groom to the cadence of the
beep
,
beep
,
beep
of the monitor registering Poppy’s heartbeat. It was the best sound in the world. Better than a string quartet any day. The sound meant the man who raised me was still living and breathing.

“You look absolutely beautiful Rebekah Anne.” Poppy’s words stole my attention from Luke, and I turned to face my grandfather. Moisture had formed in his eyes. His hand was shaking as he held it out to me. “You look just like your mama.”

Pressing a kiss to Poppy’s saggy cheek, I blinked rapidly against the threat of tears. No use ruining all of Rita’s hard work by having my mascara run.

As we began the ceremony, the sound of my own heartbeat and the beeping of the monitors were all I could hear, even though I could see the lips of the hospital chaplain moving. Luke reached out and grasped my shoulder. He let his fingertips trail down the length of my arm in a featherlight touch before clasping my hand and bringing it up waist high.

“I,  Luke Masterson, take you, Rebekah Sawyer, to be my wife, to have and to hold
from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, from this day forward until death do us part.”

From his other hand, he produced a ring and began to slip it on my finger. I couldn’t pull my eyes away from the circle of white gold as it slowly descended down my finger toward my knuckle. My mother’s ring. I remembered sitting on Poppy’s lap as a child, and he’d let me try the ring on. He’d tell me all about my parents and how, someday, when I met the man God had chosen for me, it would be mine. I hadn’t seen that ring in I didn’t know how many years. I wasn’t even sure where Poppy had kept it. But there it was. Perched on my finger. I didn’t bother trying to stem the tears this time. I let them flow freely as I looked first at Poppy and then at Luke, mouthing
thank you
to them both for this gift.

“I, Rebekah Sawyer…” My voice quivered. Luke’s focus stayed on me, and I felt we were having a conversation with just our eyes. I began to lift my hand to wipe away a stray tear, but before my hand was barely raised, Luke’s was already there. The pad of his thumb was rough on my skin, but the gentleness with which he wiped away the moisture moved me.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride.”

His gaze, which until that moment had held mine, shifted to my lips. His eyes narrowed, and his large hands wrapped around my waist and gently tugged me closer to him. I placed my hands on his chest to steady myself and could feel his heartbeat through his shirt. Was it just my imagination, or was it beating rather quickly? My own breath was becoming more rapid and shallow by the second, straining against the formfitting bodice of the dress.

His lips hovered above mine a second before descending in agonizing slowness. The kiss was chaste and sweet, full of tenderness and promise…but not a hint of passion. I tried not to feel disappointed when his mouth left mine. Luke looked me in the eye once more before pressing his lips to my forehead and pulling me even closer, crushing me in a hug and pinning my arms between us. I could feel his lips once more as he kissed the top of my head.

Once Luke released me, congratulations were had all around, and the papers were signed to make our union final and binding.

“And what is a celebration without a cake?” Luke asked as he pulled out a small sheet cake decorated with pink and purple flowers made out of frosting from the serving cart one of the nurses had wheeled in.

“I do believe,” he said as he cut the cake, “that the tradition is for the bride and groom to feed each other. What do you say, Becky?”

He handed me a plate. Picking up the piece of cake, I daintily held it up in front of his face. He opened his mouth but didn’t even bother to look at the cake as I brought it closer. I tried to look as sweet and innocent as I could while his teeth sunk into the fluffy cake. Just when he had almost bitten off a piece, I propelled the sweet treat up and smeared it over his face. Giggling, I retreated to the other side of Poppy’s bed before Luke could retaliate.

Fragments of cake and frosting rained down from Luke’s square jaw. Grabbing a napkin, he swiped at the sugary mess that had painted him like a rodeo clown.

“Just wait your turn,” he warned.

“Ah-ah.” I shook my head. “I’ve been feeding myself since infancy, and I’ll continue to do so, thank you very much.”

“Hmmm…This is not the end, little wife.”

The title sent shivers down my spine.

“Rebekah, can you come here a moment?” Poppy asked from his perched position on the bed. His eyes were twinkling once more, and if it weren’t for the surroundings, I would have thought he was back to his old self before the leukemia came back.

“What is it, Poppy?”

“Closer, dear.”

He must have a secret to share with me.

Boy was I mistaken. For a man who was supposedly weak from a recent heart attack, he was surely quick as he brought his plate of cake that he had been holding up and—s
plat—
shoved it in my face. I couldn’t have been more shocked. The room erupted in laughter, but my mouth hung open in surprise. I turned my face to Poppy and couldn’t help laughing out loud at his look of mock innocence. Giving him a cakey kiss, I accepted the napkin Luke held out and wiped away the mess before it got all over my dress.

Luke met me by the trash can and took the napkin from my hand.

He pointed to my right ear.
  “You missed a spot.”

“Here?” I asked as I tried to wipe away a spot I couldn’t see.

“Let me get it for you.”

I tilted my head to the side, angling it so that Luke had a better view. Instead of using the napkin in his hand to wipe up the mess, his head lowered. I could feel his warm breath against my skin. Before I could react,
the lobe of my ear was in his mouth, his teeth taking tiny nibbles.

My stomach summersaulted, and my knees trembled as the strength went out of them. Every nerve of my body stood at attention. Gooseflesh showed on my arms. When I didn’t think I could stand another second, Luke stood up straight and smirked at me.

“All clean.”

18

Rebekah