Unravelled (21 page)

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Oh, Beth, you are such a great friend.” He reached forward and clasped my hand in his. “And I really appreciate you switching verses with me. I don’t mean to sound all
macho,
but I feel kind of weird reading a love poem in front of so many people.”

“I understand.”

We said nothing for a moment, just smiled at each other. Now that I knew Martin was straight, I probably shouldn’t sit there, holding his hand and smiling at him. But I already knew he wasn’t interested in me. In fact, it was his lack of interest in me that had led me to assume (hope) that he was gay in the first place. Obviously, there was nothing to worry about.

Finally, he released my hand and spoke. “So I promise I’ll get back to you soon about your article. But at first glance, it looked great.”

“Thanks.” I stood. “And I’ll try to talk to Sophie before we get together on Thursday.”

And I did try. I phoned her as soon as I got home and left a message inviting her to meet me for coffee. “I’d really like to talk to you...” I said, “the sooner, the better.” Of course, I couldn’t spell it out on her voice mail in case Rob listened to it, but I was sure Sophie would get my gist. I really hoped she’d call me back soon. While I dreaded giving her the news, she needed to know the truth. Once she realized there was no chance with Martin she could refocus on her marriage. And, of course, we would all appreciate it if she stopped giving Martin
meaningful
looks while she read Nicola’s wedding poem.

So, when the phone finally rang at four o’clock, I assumed it was Sophie.

“It’s me,” he said, when I answered.

“Jim!” My heart leapt to hear his voice. “How are you?”

“Oh . . . you know . . . hanging in there.”

“How’s your mom?”

“No change. Look... I only have a second. I’m in Toronto for the next few days, but I just wanted to hear your voice.”

I was touched. “It’s great to hear your voice, too.”

“I miss you.”

“And I miss you.”

“Have you thought about where we should go on our holiday?”

“I’m still not sure,” I said, with a delighted giggle. “I’ve never had the opportunity to just
choose
anywhere in the world to visit!”

“Well, now you do. Name the place, and we’re there.”

“Okay!”

“I’ve gotta go, babe. Love ya.”

Love ya? Did he say love ya? That was the short form of “I love you,” was it not? It was! Jim loved me and he wasn’t afraid to say it! He didn’t care if we’d only been seeing each other for a couple of months and hadn’t even managed to have sex yet. He loved me! Hurray! “Love ya, too,” I replied, and then hung up.

Twenty-seven

I WAS SO elated by Jim’s pronouncement of his feelings for me that I wasn’t all that concerned when Sophie didn’t call me back right away. The stitch ’n bitch meeting wasn’t until Thursday night. She would probably call me on Thursday morning, we’d go for coffee, and we’d discuss Martin’s feelings. She would be disappointed, of course. She might even have a little cry. But eventually, she would realize that it was for the best, and she’d refocus on her family. It would all be okay. Besides, Jim loved me!

But when Sophie called, I was out buying groceries. Her message said she was on her way to Mommy and Me tumbling class, and could we possibly meet for coffee on Friday? Obviously, Friday was too late. I had assured Martin that I’d have “the talk” with her before our meeting tonight. I hated not delivering on a promise, but at least Jim loved me. Then, I had an idea. Sophie was hosting tonight’s get-together. I would simply show up early and chat with her before the others arrived.

It was the ideal solution. At 6:10, I was dressed and ready to go, a bottle of wine in hand. Since this get-together was more of a dress rehearsal than a stitch ’n bitch, I decided to leave my knitting at home. I would call a cab for the quick trip up the hill and be sitting in Sophie’s cozy living room, relaying Martin’s heterosexuality and aversion to dating married women, by 6:25. The phone was in my hand to dial the taxi company when Kendra approached. I jumped a little at her sudden presence. She had been sitting silently in the living room staring intently at
The Young and the Restless
(she taped it each day while she was at work). I’d completely forgotten she was there. “We need to talk,” she announced.

“Uh . . . now? I’m just heading out.”

“This issue needs to be addressed.”

“Okay.” I put the phone down and my eyes darted to the microwave clock. If Kendra could make this fast, I would still have time to talk to Sophie. “What’s wrong?”

“This.” Kendra held up one of my knitting needles. “Do you know where I found this?”

“Where?” I asked, resignedly.

“On the couch.” God, she looked so pissed off I’d expected her to say, “in my eardrum.”

“Sorry,” I muttered. “I’ll be sure to put it away next time.”

“Beth . . .” she continued angrily, “I sat right on it. It was very painful, and I have a bruise right here.” She indicated her ample butt cheek.

“I’m sorry, Kendra.” I glanced at the clock again. “I’ll be more careful from now on.”

“You don’t seem to realize how dangerous that could have been. Those needles are capable of doing serious, even
lethal,
damage.”

Right. Like Kendra was going to accidentally impale herself through the heart on a stray knitting needle.

She continued. “You wouldn’t leave a butcher’s knife lying around on the sofa, would you?” I was so busy trying to keep my eyes from rolling of their own volition that I didn’t answer. “Would you?” she repeated.

“No.”

“Well then . . . I don’t see why you think it’s okay to leave something this
deadly
on the sofa.”

“Look, I promise I will never ever leave another knitting needle, or a butcher’s knife for that matter, on the couch. I’ve really got to go.”

When my taxi finally arrived, it was 6:35. This would give me approximately ten minutes to break Sophie’s heart with the news that Martin was indeed straight, but not interested in pursuing a relationship with her. Damn that Kendra! She was a real pain. Jim had mentioned getting a place in Seattle when we last spoke. Maybe I could move in there? It wouldn’t be like living together living together. He would still spend lots of time on Bainbridge and he was always travelling. But it made financial sense, didn’t it? And it was the logical next step. We were officially in love, after all.

On Sophie’s porch I rang the bell and waited. Then I rang it again. It was strange, her not answering. Obviously, she had to be at home. She was expecting a houseful of guests in approximately twelve minutes. I rang again. Finally, I heard the sound of foot-steps and the door swung open.

“Hi!” I said brightly. “Sorry I’m a little early.”

Sophie’s voice was hushed. “That’s okay. I was just trying to get Flynn down before everyone arrives. Come in.”

“Thanks.” I matched the volume of her voice. “I was hoping we could have a glass of wine and a little chat before the others get here.”

“Sure.” She led me to the kitchen where an open bottle of red wine sat on the counter. Pouring me a glass, she whispered, “Are you ready for tonight?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be. It won’t be so bad reading in front of Nicola. It’s the rehearsal dinner and the wedding I’m worried about.”

“I know!” Sophie made a face of dread.

“So . . .” I took the glass of wine she proffered and was about to embark on the subject of Martin, when a thought occurred to me. “Is Rob home?”

“He’s in Miami,” she whispered. “But he’s actually—” Sophie was cut off by a screeching noise emanating from a tiny walkie-talkie device sitting on the counter. “Oh shit!”

“What is it?”

“It’s Flynn,” she said, turning off the baby monitor. “Make yourself at home. I’ll be right back.”

A glance at my watch indicated that the others would be arriving in about eight minutes. Come on, Flynn, I willed him. Please go to sleep. I’m trying to save your parents’ marriage here. But Sophie had still not returned when the doorbell rang just before seven. Damn it! Thanks to Kendra and now Flynn, the window of opportunity had closed! Unless Martin had the good sense to show up late, affording me a little extra time.

“Hey!” Martin said when I opened the front door.

“You idiot!” I refrained from screaming. Instead I hissed, “I haven’t had a chance to talk to her.”

Martin’s eyes widened with alarm and he took a small step backwards like he was preparing to run off before he was spotted. That’s when Sophie appeared, stealthily tiptoeing down the hall. “Hi,” she called to him.

“Uh . . . hi, Sophie.”

She walked up to him and took both his hands in hers. “Great to see you,” she said, leaning in to kiss his cheek warmly.

Martin cleared his throat, shooting a panicked look in my direction. “You too,” he said.

Oh god. What was going on? Sophie never acted so at ease around Martin. He made her throat dry and her tongue swell! Since when could she casually welcome him with a kiss on the cheek? What did it mean? God help me if she’d already kicked Rob out!

Moments later my thoughts were distracted by the somewhat boisterous arrival of Angie, followed by the night’s guest of honour, Nicola. With a finger to her lips, Sophie ushered us into her living room and shut the French doors so our discourse and poetry reading wouldn’t disturb Flynn. “How are you holding up?” our hostess addressed Nicola.

“Oh...well...” Nicola said with a shrug. The dark circles under her eyes and her somewhat pale complexion made it evident that the stress was taking its toll. “I’ll be better two weeks from now when all this insanity is over.” I managed to stop myself from agreeing with her.

“Did you find a new photographer?” Martin asked.

“Yes! Thank heavens my dad was able to call a photographer friend of his in Boston. He’s going to fly in to photograph the rehearsal dinner and the wedding.”

“That’s fantastic,” Angie said.

“It is. Benjamin’s very talented. He doesn’t traditionally do weddings, but my dad says that will give his photos a more unique perspective.”

“True,” I nodded, though I knew less than nothing about photographic perspective.

“Thank god for your dad,” Sophie commented.

“I know!” Nicola said, holding her hands to her chest. “Daddy’s my hero. Always has been.”

“Well...” Angie jumped in. “Shall we perform the poem for you?”

“That would be lovely.”

In preparation, I downed the remains of my wine and began my internal pep talk. I was doing this for Nicola, a dear sweet woman who valued my friendship enough to invite me to speak on the most important day of her life. I would do it for her—without hyperventilation or diarrhea. And if, perchance, my body rebelled on me on the big day, at least it would be doing so in front of complete strangers who I would hopefully never see again.

With Nicola seated in a brocade armchair, we assembled in front of her. Angie cleared her throat before addressing the imaginary crowd. “Welcome, friends and family of the bride and groom. I’m Angie Morris. Yes,
that
Angie Morris,” she laughed, “co-host of
The Buzz,
cable Channel 13.” She looked to Nicola in an aside. “I’ll pause here for a few seconds for applause et cetera...”

“Uh . . . right.”

“With me tonight are Sophie Bryden, Beth Carruthers, and Martin Scurfield. We are absolutely delighted to be reading a poem tonight that encapsulates the powerful bond that is shared by this special couple. Ladies and gentlemen...we bring you, ‘Eternal Love.’ ” Angie launched into her enthusiastic recitation, followed by Sophie. Thankfully, she didn’t shoot Martin any of those meaningful looks as she read the syrupy verse. Finally, it was my turn. While I’d initially felt nervous performing in front of Nicola, the look of pure gratitude on her face made it infinitely easier. This really meant so much to her. When Martin had gone and Angie had finished the last line, Nicola jumped up and applauded.

“That was perfect!” she cried, dabbing at a tear in her eye. “Just perfect. Thank you so much.”

“It was our pleasure,” Angie answered for all of us. Turning to her cohorts, she instructed, “Beth, just make sure to breathe. And Martin, if you could put just a teensy bit more energy into your voice—that would be great.”

Nicola said, “Well, I thought it was wonderful. I wouldn’t change a thing.” She smiled at us each in turn. Then, addressing Angie, she added hesitantly, “Except at the beginning...”

“Yes?”

“The emcee will do the introductions so...you really just need to read the poem.”

“Oh...well...that’s fine, then,” Angie answered, a little awkwardly.

Sophie stepped in. “So, what is everyone going to wear?”

This proved the perfect distraction to Angie’s wounded pride. “Well, we don’t want to match. That would be too
cutesy.
But we should definitely colour coordinate. I think we should pick a colour, say black or navy, and build our outfits around that.”

“I have a black suit,” Martin said.

“Of course, you’ll wear something more casual to the rehearsal dinner,” Nicola instructed. “We’re having a cocktail reception in The Garden Room first, followed by the dinner. It will be much less formal than the actual wedding.”

“Uh . . .” I cleared my throat. “How many people will be at the rehearsal dinner?”

“It’ll be small,” Nicola answered. “Just the wedding party, close friends, and family, and we’ve included some of the out-of-town guests. At last count, I think we had no more than a hundred and twenty people.”

Small? That’s what she considered small? God, when I got married, I wanted no more than fifty or sixty people at the main event. Of course, that would have worked fine if I’d married Colin. He had virtually no relatives, save his grandma, one brother, and his parents, who refused to be in the same room together. I wondered about Jim’s extended family. I knew he had a sister, and he’d hopefully still have a mother by the time our nuptials rolled around.
If
our nuptials rolled around! I meant
if
! I didn’t want to jinx anything by being overeager, but I had to smile to myself. Not so long ago, I’d had no hope of getting married and now... now, it seemed entirely possible.

“I—I was wondering...” Sophie began, sounding nervous and delighted at once, “I mean, I know it might be too late, but I was hoping to bring Rob to the wedding.”

We were all taken aback. Sophie had done nothing but complain about Rob’s physical and emotional unavailability since we met her four months ago! And that wasn’t to mention her constant pining for a relationship with Martin. And now she wanted to bring Rob to Nicola’s wedding?

Nicola was, of course, the most flustered. “I—I suppose he can accompany you. I’ll just need to check on the seating arrangements and the number of meals.”

“I don’t want to cause you any inconvenience,” Sophie said. “Really, it’s not a big deal. I just kinda wanted you all to meet him . . . and I wanted him to be with me.”

“Okay,” Angie blurted out, “what’s going on?”

Sophie said excitedly, “It was our fifth anniversary on Tuesday and he gave me something so incredibly special.”

“What?” Angie asked.

“I’ll show you.” She hurried out of the room. We all exchanged looks of surprise. It must have been some gift to make Sophie forgive the months of neglect she’d experienced.

Angie whispered knowingly, “Diamonds.”

I turned to Martin and gave him the thumbs-up signal. He wiped imaginary sweat from his brow in relief.

Sophie returned and presented a folded piece of paper. “He gave me this.”

“What is it?” I asked.

Angie jumped in eagerly. “They’re ownership papers, aren’t they? To a new car? A boat?”

“It’s much better than that,” Sophie said happily.