Triple Love Score (18 page)

“Well, with Ambrose on the job you can be sure it won’t be small for long.”

“Yeah, well I doubt that. But it’s nice to think about.”

“You might want to do more than think about it. Did you even read the contract?”

Miranda buried her head in her hands.

“You didn’t sign it yet?”

“Worse,” Miranda said. “I just signed it. I didn’t read it.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. Are you crazy?”

“I just trusted you,” Miranda said.

“Oh,” Scott said. “Well then.”

“Well then, indeed.”

The attendants dimmed the lights and a hush fell over the cabin. “I think I need to close my eyes,” Miranda said. “It’s been a long couple of days.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Me too, but it’s been worth it.”

T
HE MOST SHOCKING SIGHT when they finally landed was seeing Omar’s mom, Selin, standing with one arm around Danielle, the other arm waving frantically to Miranda.

“We are here,” she called out. “We are here!”

As if there was any way of mistaking the large crowd gathered. They must have taken three cars to get to the airport.

Danielle pulled herself from the crowd and ran to hug Miranda. “I told them you were like a sister to me,” she whispered into Miranda’s ear. “They didn’t get the like part, so you are now my sister. Just go with it, okay?”

An older man, Omar’s grandfather by the looks of things, walked up to Scott. “Sir,” he said very formally. “May my grandson have your sister’s hand in marriage?”

Scott didn’t miss a beat. He put his hand to his chin and lowered his head as if he were thinking about it.

“What’s this?” Miranda hissed at Danielle.

“Oh, well that. I had to tell them that you and Scott were married.”

“Married?”

“It was tough for me to explain to them. I didn’t even understand. And believe me, I want the full story the minute we are alone. And anyway, if I can be married this week, so can you.”

“It’s hardly the same thing.”

“Don’t be upset. It’s not like you would say no if he asked. Make a dying lady happy.”

“Wait a minute. You’re not dying.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do know that. You will see the doctors at the American Hospital, and it will be fine. And don’t try changing the subject. This week is all about you, not me and my love life or whatever this is.”

“I’m glad you’re here,” Dani said, hugging Miranda tighter.

Then Scott cleared this throat. “This is sudden,” he joked. The old man’s face wrinkled a little. “But seriously,” Scott added. “Will she be properly cared for?”

“Indeed,” the man replied.

“Then I give my blessing,” Scott said.

The two men shook hands and then embraced in a back-slapping hug. Omar stepped forward to shake Scott’s hand.

The women, done with waiting, rushed forward to hug Miranda and Danielle. A small girl with luxurious black hair that hung in a thick braid down her back presented herself in front of Miranda, her hand extended.

Miranda shook the girl’s hand. “I’m Jellie,” she said. “Junior bridesmaid.” Then she said something to Danielle in Turkish; Danielle beamed at her and replied. The girl skipped back to her mother.

“She’s checking out the competition,” Danielle whispered to Miranda. “She thinks you’re pretty but that the dress suits her better.”

“There’s already a dress?” Miranda asked.

“Oh, you’ll see,” Danielle said. She squeezed Miranda again; this time Miranda feared the waffle weave of Danielle’s shirt imprinted on her cheek from the force of the hug.

The ride from the airport to Omar’s house was a blur with the caravan of cars and minivans taking them all back through the city to the neighborhood Omar’s parents lived in. Scott rode in front of the mini-van with the men. They immediately started talking about soccer, golf, and whether or not Scott’s cell phone will work in Turkey. The women of Omar’s family kept holding up swaths of fabric to Miranda’s face, bickering amongst themselves about which color would suit her best.

“Like an official bridesmaid dress? I’m still not following.” Miranda said to Danielle. “What type of wedding are you having in less than a week?”

“It’s kind of a big deal,” she said, shrugging her shoulders.

The convoy delivered them to Omar’s parents’ house. It stood two stories tall with gleaming white siding and little balconies jutting out from the second story windows. A white iron fence partitioned the manicured gardens from the sidewalk. They spilled out. The men surrounded Scott and asked him even more questions about golf from the snippets of conversation Miranda could catch.

“Omar’s parents said you should stay here,” Dani said. “They didn’t want you sleeping on the floor at my place.”

“But we wouldn’t have minded.”

“But they would have. Things must be done right.”

“Oh, I see.”

“I’ll come get you first thing in the morning. Omar is staying here, too. He’s going to take Scott with him to play golf. Like some bachelor party thing.”

One of the women leaned out of the passenger side of the second car. “Danniiii!!!” she called. “We have to get you back to your apartment.”

Selin stepped forward and placed a hand on Danielle’s shoulder. “I promise I’ll take good care of your friends tonight.” Then she turned to Miranda. “You must be tired. I’ll have my husband show you to your room,” Selin said. “I need to check on some details for the dinner tomorrow.”

Roger, Omar’s father, led them up the staircase to the guest room. “This is it,” he said, his own accent a mix of British and Turkish. “If you need anything, I’m sure Selin will be in the kitchen all night.” Then he ducked out and pulled the door shut behind him.

“So we’re married,” Scott finally said, whirling around to face her.

“I’m sorry about all that. This is really important to Danielle. Do you mind playing along?”

“Do you mind playing along?” he asked back. He picked up her hand and dropped to one knee. “Miranda, will do me the honor of being my wife?”

She let her eyes lock onto his. He had no idea how many times she imagined hearing him say those words.

“At least for the rest of this week,” he stammered, before getting back up again.

She turned away before he could see the tears she felt forming in the corners of her eyes. It had been so long since she had spent time with him, and now all of this was too much. Even though it wasn’t real, too much of her wished that it were true to just laugh it off.

But then his voice softened. “I don’t mind playing along,” he continued. “I would like to be your husband.”

“Very funny,” she said, then she moved quickly to the door and slipped out into the hallway to find the bathroom.

Sleeping in the same room as Scott was nothing new. Miranda remembered the place near Cape Cod that Bunny and Linden rented. It only had two bedrooms; one on the first floor, the other in the loft overlooking the main great room. The parents naturally claimed the bedrooms leaving Scott and Miranda to take up different corners of the great room for their own. And after a few days of staying at the beach, their new friends would spend the night, too, spreading out blankets on the various cast-off chairs and sofas filling the room. But Miranda always loved the first few nights when it was just the two of them. She was short enough to take the window seat and pretend she was really sleeping on a bunk in a boat bound for a tropical island. Scott, always tall, took the longest couch.

“What are you reading?” he would ask her.

No matter what she replied; he would then say, “Well, share. Read to me.”

She began to pick books at the little library in town that she knew he would like. Stories by Jules Verne or Orson Welles or Edgar Allen Poe. The night she read
A Tell Tale Heart
they didn’t go to sleep at all. Scott turned on all the lights and made them pancakes in the galley kitchen. She sat on the countertop and started to read the Little Mermaid from a fairy-tale book left as a decoration on the dusty bookshelf in the great room. Only that story didn’t help to dislodge Poe from their minds; it just made it worse. They spent the rest of the night playing Rummy 500, and luckily, the next day it rained, and no one questioned why they napped all day and didn’t want any breakfast.

If this week could be like that, Miranda would probably be in heaven. But you can’t expect things to stay the same way they were when you were children. Things change; people change—even if you don’t want them to.

Scott was already in bed when she got back to the room. The lights were still on, but she could tell from his breathing and the relaxed look on his face that he had been asleep for a long time. She climbed into bed slowly, lying on top of the blankets for fear of disturbing him. His chest rose so slightly, and the corners of his mouth turned up in the tiniest of smiles. He didn’t snore as much as buzz. Even in his sleep, he was electric.

Turning away from him, she closed her eyes, certain that sleep couldn’t possibly come. But jet lag and maybe the old familiar comfort of him took hold quickly, tugging her down into the dark nothing of much-needed rest. In the morning, she found a note about golf and seeing her later for the night-before-the-wedding dinner. He signed it, Love, Scott.

D
ANIELLE PULLED MIRANDA ASIDE after breakfast. “I need you to do something with me today. Just us. I didn’t want Omar to know.”

Miranda could tell this wasn’t something about the wedding. “Of course,” she said. “Whatever. Just tell me what it is.”

“I have a follow-up appointment. Some kind of test to check out the tumor. I don’t want Omar to go. I don’t want him to be thinking about that the day before our wedding. And Omar’s family, they know something is wrong with me, but I’m not ready to have his mom in on the specifics. Like how do you say vagina or uterus to that woman?”

Miranda couldn’t help but laugh.

“I know, funny, right. Even though it might be cancer.”

Danielle grabbed Miranda’s hand. It was cold and sweaty. Miranda squeezed back. “It’s not cancer. Don’t say that. Can’t it wait until after?”

“They said no. They said I need to have everything checked out as soon as possible. I already waited to schedule it until after you got here. I didn’t want to go alone.”

They went that morning to a tall shining tower of a hospital. “The VFK American Hospital” read the sign in front. “American hospital? What does that mean?” Miranda asked.

“It’s for medical tourists mainly. The Turkish doctor I saw already told me to follow up here. He said only they would be willing to help me.”

Inside was just like any other hospital, except maybe the staff was nicer. Everyone treated you the way a hotel clerk would. And all you had to do was show your visa. Her visa, Danielle explained, expired a very long time ago. But each time she thought about going home to the states to renew it, she realized she would be leaving Omar. So she didn’t. Luckily, the marriage paperwork overrode the visa requirements. But the nurse at the check-in desk examined each document as if looking for some hole. She even held one paper up to the light to check for a watermark.

“It’s all there,” Danielle said. She drummed the diamond ring on the counter playing her fingers along an imaginary piano.

Finally, the nurse spoke. “Payment,” she said flatly.

Danielle pushed the American Express card across the counter. The nurse bundled up the papers and gave them back without even photocopying them.

“Whoa,” Danielle said under her breath as the nurse stepped away to run the credit card. “I was worried about that.”

“Why?”

“I could go to jail for being here without the proper visa. And the doctor said I couldn’t travel with this condition, and Omar can’t leave Istanbul right now because of his job. He’s about to be promoted. So getting married was really our only option.”

“At the last minute.”

“Yes, at the last minute.”

“In a Muslim ceremony that would kill your Methodist parents, God rest their souls.”

“Muslim? I knew I was forgetting to tell you something. I’m so sorry!”

“Sorry about what? I don’t care that you are marrying a Muslim. I’m a little mad that Omar made such a big deal out of it and refused to tell his family about you guys, but he is really upset and doing the right thing now, so I am letting him slide some.”