Chapter 129
On January twenty-fifth, Claire awoke with cold feet.
Literally.
She woke with a start and sat up quickly, pulling a tangled bundle of
covers with her. In her restless sleep,
she’d successfully twisted herself up in the sheets and ended up lying almost
sideways on her bed, her feet sticking out from under the blankets on one
side. Jamie’s gonna LOVE sharing a
bed with me, she thought with a giggle, trying to free herself from the
cocoon of covers.
She managed to straighten herself out, and as she sat cross-legged in
the helter-skelter bundle of linens, a flutter of happiness, like the wings of
a thousand butterflies, flew through her.
It’s my wedding day! she realized, letting out a breath of
anticipation. She looked at the
clock. In another nine hours, she would
no longer be Claire Ryan, but Claire Turner, wife of her high school
sweetheart. The thought was
mind-blowing, nerve-wracking, and incredible, all at once. Part of her couldn’t wait to get to the
church and put on her dress, and another part of her was completely terrified.
She was reminded of how she’d felt the day she moved away to college,
which had been, at that point in her young life, the biggest life change she’d
ever experienced. But today, she wasn’t
just moving out; she was getting married. And even though she’d been planning for it
for almost a year, she still couldn’t believe this day was finally here.
Her breath caught in her throat as she looked around the room. This would be the last time she saw her own
bedroom, she realized. Her lease would
be up by the time she and Jamie got back from their honeymoon, and her things
would be moved into his apartment, thanks to the help of her family and Jamie’s
brother, who had volunteered to do the moving while they were gone. Most of her belongings, all but the bare
essentials, were already packed in boxes, leaving her apartment looking more
like an attic than a home.
But it didn’t matter. After
today, this wouldn’t be her home anymore.
Wherever Jamie was… that would be home.
She smiled at the thought of her fiancée, wondering what he was doing
right then. Was he awake yet? Probably not.
Would he be as nervous as her?
Probably so. She hadn’t seen him
since the rehearsal dinner last night and wished she could talk to him, but
they were following the old traditions – she would have no contact with him
until her father gave her away to him at the altar.
Her mind slipped away to the church, imagining herself walking down the
aisle the way she had the night before in rehearsal, but this time, for real,
her veil fluttering in front of her eyes, the train of her dress trailing
behind her. She was so caught up in the
daydream that, at first, she didn’t hear the knocking at her door.
When she did, she scrambled out of bed, jamming her feet into the warm,
fluffy white slippers Jamie had given her after the rehearsal the night before,
wrapping the white, satiny robe that had come with it around her. “I want you to go to sleep tonight and wake
up tomorrow feeling like a bride,” Jamie had told her after she’d opened the
large box containing the robe and slippers.
With a smile, he’d added in a whisper, “Your mom helped me pick them
out.”
She smiled, knowing that if it had been up to Jamie, she’d be wearing
some sort of gaudy, see-through lingerie.
Thanks, Mom, she thought, padding out of her room in the soft
slippers. She went to the door,
half-expecting to find her mother there now, even though she wasn’t due to come
over for another few hours. But when she
peeked out the peephole, she saw a man in a delivery hat, holding a large
bouquet of flowers.
Getting that fluttery butterfly feeling in her chest again, Claire
threw open the door. “Hi!” she greeted
the delivery guy brightly.
He smiled. “Flowers for you,
miss. You getting married today?”
“Yes,” she smiled back, “I am.”
“Congratulations,” he nodded, handing over the bouquet.
She thanked him and took it inside, setting it down on her kitchen
counter so that she could step back and admire it. It was a bouquet of long-stemmed roses, at
least a dozen, and in a gorgeous, deep purple color. She smiled at Jamie’s thoughtfulness; not
only was purple her favorite color, but it was the color she’d chosen for her
wedding. All the bridesmaids and even
the flower girl were wearing dresses of the same dark purple, and the flower
arrangements contained roses just like these.
There was a big white bow around the vase, and attached was a little
card. She opened it and read the
message, her heart melting.
Clairie,
I hope you
like the roses, one for every year we’ve known each other. All together, they make a beautiful bouquet,
don’t they? I know we’ll have just as
beautiful of a marriage and many more years together. See you at the altar.
Love,
Jamie
It was written in his hand, and though she could hardly imagine him
saying something so poetic out loud, she knew the message was heartfelt. Touched, she let go of the card and counted
the roses. Indeed, there were not a
dozen, but fourteen of them, representing the almost-fourteen years they’d been
friends. A long time, she
thought, looking at the full vase of roses.
It just made sense for them to marry each other after all those
years. They’d drifted apart and come
back together again, and in her mind, that was enough to suggest they were
meant to be.
Smiling, she fingered the velvety petals of one of the roses. See you at the altar…
***
Across town, Nick awoke with a feeling of dread.
His chest felt tight, like there was a crushing weight upon it, and it
was hard to breathe. The sensation was a
familiar one, but on this particular morning, he knew it had nothing to do with
the BOOP he’d struggled with most of the last year.
Today was Claire’s wedding day.
And though technically he’d lost her over two years ago, he felt like he
was losing her all over again. After
today, when she walked out of the church with Jamie, there would be no more
hope of her coming back to him. He would
have to let go of her, as he’d been trying to do for two years. It was over.
He sat up and took a few cleansing breaths, temporarily relieving the
tightness in his chest. He knew it would
be back later though, the squeezing pain in his heart, as he watched her take
her vows to someone else.
He really didn’t want to go to the wedding. But he knew he had to. It wasn’t because he had told Claire he
would, either; no, he had to go for him.
For himself. Because he knew the
only way he was going to be able to let her go was if he watched it happen, saw
her marry Jamie with his own eyes. Maybe
then his heart would finally accept what his brain already knew – Claire wasn’t
his anymore. She would always be his
friend, but no matter how he felt, their love was over.
Grudgingly, reluctantly, Nick dragged himself out of bed.
***
Once her big day had begun, it went by faster than she had expected,
starting with the rush of getting ready.
Her mother picked her up and took her to the salon to get her hair and
nails done. Claire had never had a
manicure or acrylic nails before, not even for prom, but her mother had kept
saying, “It’s your wedding day! We need
to go all out; this day will never come again,” so she’d agreed to it.
“Just keep them short,” she kept saying, as the technician showed her
the options of acrylics. “I don’t want talons that are gonna claw apart my
dress.”
She left the salon that afternoon with a set of beautiful nails that
went just past her fingertips and were tastefully French-manicured. The hairstylist had worked wonders with her
short hair, twisting half of it into an elegant up-do, while the rest hung
down, flipping out at the ends the way she liked it. As they drove to the church, she kept her
hands tightly clasped in her laps, fighting the urge to touch the
hairspray-stiff style for fear of messing up her hair or her nails or
both. She wasn’t used to being so
high-maintenance.
And that was just the beginning.
At the church, her mother hurried her into the large dressing room that
had been set up for the bridal party.
Dianna, her maid of honor, was already there, looking about ready to
burst with excitement. Though the
ceremony was nearly two hours away yet, she was already dressed in her
bridesmaid dress, a gown of rich, satiny plum with thin straps, an A-line
skirt, and just a hint of a train in the back.
Dianna had helped her pick out the gowns, and the other three
bridesmaids, Amber, Laureen, and Jenn, had identical ones.
“You look beautiful, Di!” Claire exclaimed, stopping for a moment to
admire her friend. Dianna had gotten her
hair done too; it was piled on top of her head in thick curls, with still more
soft spirals trailing down her bare back.
Her makeup looked perfect, as always, her dark eyes framed by smoky
liner and shadow, with just a hint of dusky purple blended in. “You’re doing my makeup, by the way,” she
added.
“Of course!” Dianna chirped, beaming.
“I was counting on it!”
“Let’s get your dress on first,” said Claire’s mother, hanging the
large garment bag on a clothes bar. She
unzipped it slowly, revealing the beautiful wedding gown inside. As her mother pulled the garment bag off,
Claire’s breath caught in her throat, the way it had every time she’d laid eyes
on the dress before. On the day she and
her mother had finally found it, she’d tried on at least a dozen other gowns,
many of which she liked, but when she’d stood in front of the three-way mirror
in the bridal shop, wearing this dress, she had literally gasped. She’d looked at others after it, keeping her
options open, but she had always known this was the one.
Made of white silk satin, it had a full skirt with a modest chapel
train in the back. The satin bodice was
covered in a translucent overlay that extended up to her shoulders and ended in
sheer, airy, long sleeves, perfect for a winter bride in Florida. The sleeves, bodice, and the bottom of the
skirt were all adorned with intricate crystal beadwork. Altogether, it was different from most of the
other gowns she’d seen in the stores and the bridal magazines. It was less modern, more old-fashioned, and
that appealed to her. Jamie had been
very set on the idea of a traditional wedding, and she knew he would love her
in this dress, almost as much as she loved the dress itself.
Dianna and her mother helped her into it, careful not to rumple her
hair, and guided her over to the full-length mirror. A lump rose in her throat as she gazed at her
reflection, caught up in the emotion of the day. “Wow… this is the real thing, isn’t it?” she
murmured, turning slowly in the elegant white dress. “I’m not just playing dress-up in a store…
I’m getting married!!”
Dianna let out a squeal. “You
sure are, girl! God, and I always
thought I’d be first! I hope I’m not
destined to be one of those ‘always a bridesmaid, never a bride’ types…”
Claire watched her friend’s reflection frown in the mirror and shook
her head, laughing. “Oh, come on, Di,
don’t say that. What about you and Todd? Before you know it, you two will be the ones
walking down the aisle, and I’ll be your bridesmaid. Or… matron, I guess.” She wrinkled her nose. “Wow, that’s weird.”
“Yeah it is! By tonight,
you’ll be a married woman!”
“Well, catch my bouquet at the reception, and you’ll be next,” Claire
said, catching Dianna’s eye in the mirror and smiling.
“You better toss it right at me then, girl; you know I can’t catch to
save my life,” replied Dianna, and they both laughed.
“You look absolutely beautiful, sweetheart,” Claire’s mother said from
her other side, leaning in to kiss her cheek.
Claire glanced at her briefly, and when she looked back into the mirror,
she could see tears sparkling in her mother’s eyes.
“Aww, don’t cry yet, Mom… at least save that for when I’m walking down
the aisle,” she joked, smiling.
Her mother smiled tearfully back.
“Oh, you know I’ll be crying then too,” she replied, putting her arm
around Claire’s waist and giving her a squeeze.
“This is such a special day. I
think every mother dreams of her daughter’s wedding… and I’m just so thankful
to see you happy and healthy and looking so perfectly beautiful…”
She trailed off, her voice breaking slightly, and Claire slipped an arm
around her too. There wasn’t much she
could say back to that, but she knew exactly what her mom was thinking. When she had been sick, she had wondered the
same thing – would she live to see this day come? Would she ever get to walk down the aisle in
a white gown, the way she’d fantasized as a little girl?
Now she was well, just months away from being considered cured for
good, and her little girl dreams, just like her mother’s, were coming true.
The realization brought more butterflies to her stomach.
***
There were butterflies in Nick’s stomach too, as he stood in front of
his mirror at home and scrutinized his appearance. He had put on his most expensive suit, a
black Dolce & Gabbana ensemble with white pinstripes, and he kept fiddling
with it, smoothing out the pressed jacket, tugging at the collar of his black
dress shirt, adjusting his light blue silk tie.
I look like
I’m going to a funeral, not a wedding, he thought, smirking at himself in almost all black. But he didn’t care; it seemed somehow more
appropriate. Claire’s wedding to Jamie
represented the final death of his romance with her, though their relationship
had flatlined over two years ago.
There’d be no bringing it back now, not after today.
Still, Nick had dressed his best, with the foolish idea in the back of
his mind that maybe, somehow, Claire would take one look at him and realize she
had chosen the wrong man. It was a
stupid thing to think, and he knew it, but he couldn’t help himself.
With a heavy heart and the dying embers of an all-but-extinguished
hope, Nick reluctantly made his way out of the house and climbed into his old
silver Jaguar to drive to the church.
***
Bayview Christian Church was a large, modern building laid out on a
sweeping lot just a few blocks from the waterfront in one of Tampa’s newer
development areas. It didn’t look as
“church-y” as Nick had been expecting, yet as he walked up to the entrance, he
started seeing all the signs of the wedding about to take place. The main doors of the church were decorated
with a swag of heavy, white satin ribbon and a flower arrangement that included
large purple and white roses. As he
passed through them into the lobby, he saw more flowers and decorations, deep
shades of plum and bridal white everywhere he looked.
“Nick?” Feeling a light tap on
his arm, Nick turned to see himself face to face with Kyle Ryan, Claire’s older
brother. He was dressed in a black
tuxedo, with a white shirt and a bow tie and vest in a dark shade of purple
that matched the roses perfectly. He was
serving as an usher or groomsman, no doubt.
“Hey, man,” Kyle said, smiling briefly.
“I wasn’t sure if we’d see you here today or not, but I’m glad you came. It’ll mean a lot to Claire that you did… you
know, despite… everything.” He trailed
off awkwardly, offering Nick an apologetic shrug.
Nick forced himself to smile.
“Yeah… thanks, man. It’s good to
see you.”
“You too,” replied Kyle and then patted Nick’s arm again. “Guestbook’s over there, if you’d like to
sign,” he added, pointing out an elegant guestbook that was open on a podium.
Nick nodded. “Cool,
thanks.” As Kyle went to greet the
guest who had come in behind him, Nick wandered over to the podium. He skimmed the names that had already been
signed on the open page, not recognizing any of them, and finally scrawled his
name on the next empty line. Setting
down the pen, he took a deep breath and went back to join the short line of
people waiting to get inside the sanctuary.
At the sanctuary doors, another man in a black groomsman’s tux asked him,
“Bride or groom’s side?”
Nick didn’t know this man, but when he looked at him more closely, he
quickly realized he had to be Jamie’s older brother. He had the same dark, curly hair, same blue
eyes, and same facial features, though his were more roughened with age, his
shoulders broader, his build stockier than Jamie’s.
“Bride’s,” replied Nick, and Jamie’s brother directed him towards the
left section of pews. He chose a seat in
one of the last rows, which was still empty, and slid into the pew.
From his spot in the back, he had a good view of the sanctuary. It was decorated in shades of muted blue-gray
and ivory, with pretty molding on the ends of the pews and the altar. For the wedding, it had been adorned with
beautiful arrangements of flowers and bows in shades of purple and white. They were draped over the pews, down the
aisle, across the altar, and even on the gleaming white grand piano that stood
off to one side at the front of the sanctuary.
A woman sat at the piano, playing soft music as the guests filed in.
Nick could also see the backs of everyone’s heads, and he made a game
out of trying to figure out how many people he could recognize. At first, there weren’t too many. He didn’t know anyone on Jamie’s side, and
from his vantage point, the only one he could pick out on Claire’s side, much
to his annoyance, was Tim Pantero, her old dentist boyfriend. His big fat spiky-haired head gave him away. As more people started to twist around in
their seats, looking back toward the sanctuary doors in anticipation, he
recognized a few other faces. Sitting
near Tim were a few of the other hygienists who worked with Claire; Nick
recalled meeting some of them briefly when he’d stopped by her office. He looked for Laureen, but didn’t see her
head of auburn hair anywhere near them.
Then he remembered Claire telling him that Laureen was one of her
bridesmaids.
Shauna, Claire’s transplant nurse, was there, along with a couple of
other nurses Nick remembered from the oncology floor. A woman with dark hair, holding a little
girl’s hand, sat down in the row behind the nurses. Watching them, Nick was struck with the
nagging suspicion that he knew them too, but at first he couldn’t place
them. It wasn’t until the woman turned
her head that he recognized her. Her
dark, soulful eyes gave her away as Meredith Brenner, Casey’s mother. The little girl sitting with her, then, was
Catherine, Casey’s sister, who looked significantly taller and more grown-up
than Nick remembered her from the one or two times he’d seen her at the
hospital. A lump rose in his throat; he
thought it touching that they had come to Claire’s wedding even after Casey,
their connection to her, was gone.
The stream of guests began to dwindle, and soon, the music changed, and
the murmur of voices quieted. Turning
his head, Nick watched Jamie’s brother escort an older woman, who had to be
Jamie’s mother, to her seat in the front row of the right side of pews. Moments later, Kyle came in, walking Claire’s
mother down the aisle to her front row seat on the left side.
The minister appeared at the altar, and then came Jamie, taking his
place at the front of the church in a sleek black tux. He stood with his hands folded in front as
four groomsmen joined him, his brother standing closest to him.
An air of anticipation permeated the sanctuary as the music changed
again. Everyone’s heads turned to the
doors in the back, and Pachelbel began to flow from the piano as the
bridesmaids began their processional up the aisle. Laureen was first, looking soft and pretty in
a satiny gown of dark purple, which trailed along the white aisle runner behind
her as she walked gracefully along, her head, piled with auburn ringlets, held
high. A tall, slender, black-haired
woman Nick did not recognize followed.
Then came Amber, Kyle’s wife. She
had been pregnant the last time Nick had seen her, but her baby weight was gone
now, and behind her toddled a little red-haired boy that could only be her son,
Claire’s nephew, Kamden. He had
apparently been designated as the ring bearer, for he clutched the corner of a
little satin pillow in one of his chubby fists, but he was too young to know
what to do with it and simply chased after his mother, reaching for the skirt
of her gown. At the front of the church,
she took the pillow from him and handed him off to Claire’s mother before
taking her place near the altar.
Nick didn’t know the little flower girl who came next, but he did
recognize Claire’s best friend Dianna, coming down the aisle as her maid of
honor. Once Dianna was in place beside
Amber, the piano music flourished into the regal opening chords of the
traditional bridal march. The
accompanist might as well have been playing the theme from Halloween; it
would have better suited the way Nick’s heart suddenly started to hammer, beads
of sweat rising on his forehead and slicking his palms. The sick feeling that had been building in
his stomach throughout the entire processional intensified, making its way up
into his chest, where it squeezed at his drumming heart and finally formed a
nice, solid lump in the back of his throat.
He tried to swallow, but couldn’t; his mouth was suddenly as dry as
cotton.
Everyone in the pews stood up, and Nick followed suit. His good knee felt like jell-o, the way it
was shaking, and he rested his clammy hand on the back of the pew for support.
Then the sanctuary doors opened once more, and the first flash of white
appeared as she stepped out. His heart
skipped a beat. There she was, Claire,
looking more beautiful than he had ever seen her in a traditional white wedding
dress with a flowing satin skirt and long, beaded lace sleeves. Her face was covered with an airy, white
veil, but he could still make out her features through its sheerness. Her blue eyes, large and luminous with
emotion. Her lips, stretched into a
nervous smile.
He could see her eyes shifting briefly from side to side as she started
down the aisle, but she didn’t see him, and after another moment, she had
passed his pew, and he could no longer see her face. He watched her from the back as she continued
up the aisle, taking slow, tentative steps on the arm of her father, getting
further away from Nick and closer to Jamie, who waited on the steps leading to
the altar, a big, dumb grin on his face.
As he watched her father, Kris, give her away to Jamie, who took her
hand and led her slowly up to meet the minister at the altar, the lump in
Nick’s throat swelled, and for a moment, he felt almost crying. He was sure he’d be the only one in the
sanctuary with tears of anguish in his eyes; everyone else was shedding happy
tears for the couple about to be married.
He wished he could be happy for them, but Nick could only think about
how this was all wrong. It was all so
beautiful, the ornamented sanctuary, the bridesmaids in their identical purple
dresses, and Claire, in pure, angelic white.
But it shouldn’t be Jamie standing with her, Nick thought
enviously, his eyes boring holes through the back of Jamie’s head. It should be me.
He had tried so hard not to get jealous, but there was no use. He would have given anything to be standing
in Jamie’s shoes, about to marry the only woman he’d ever truly loved. It wasn’t fair that he should be sitting back
here, watching her marry someone else.
It wasn’t fair. He’d
proposed to her first; she’d worn the ring he’d bought her before Jamie
had given her the one she wore now. He
should have been standing at the altar with her two years ago, and have a
wedding band on his finger now.
But he wasn’t, he realized, looking sadly down at his bare hands. Claire had made her choice.
And so, when the minister addressed the guests with the infamous words,
“If any of you can show just cause why these two people should not lawfully be
wed, speak now, or forever hold your peace,” Nick kept his mouth shut, holding
his breath as silence fell over the sanctuary.
He secretly longed to hear someone speak up, but, of course, no one did,
and the ceremony continued.
Only moments later, the minister was saying the lines Nick had heard so
often, in every wedding he’d ever attended or seen on TV. “Claire Aileen… do you take this man to be
your lawfully wedded husband, to love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, in
sickness and in health, and, forsaking all others, be faithful to him, as long
as you both shall live?”
The lump in Nick’s throat remained as he thought of how Claire had
loved him and comforted him, in sickness and in health. She could have easily taken those vows to
him. But instead, she murmured, “I do,”
intending them for Jamie.
“James Thomas…” The minister
repeated the oath to Jamie, and all too soon, the dreaded two-word promise
spawned from his lips.
“I do.”
***
Having whispered her “I do,” Claire stood trembling at the
altar, the butterflies in her stomach fluttering in full force. This is it, she thought, as Jamie
turned towards her, taking her right hand in his in preparation of saying the
vows.
He looked as nervous as she felt, but he was smiling, and his eyes were
bright. She could see the love for her
shining in them, and it brought tears to her own. A part of her still couldn’t believe that,
after all these years, they were here, standing at an altar together, about to
exchange wedding vows.
“Repeat after me,” Reverend Halloran instructed Jamie. “I, James…”
And, gazing shyly into her eyes, Jamie recited the words. “I, James… take you, Claire… to be my wife…
to have and to hold, from this day forward… for better, for worse… for richer,
for poorer… in sickness, and in health…”
The tears started to trickle from her eyes as she saw the corners of his
mouth twitch upward, a silent sign to her that, this time, he meant it. She smiled sheepishly and blinked furiously,
afraid the eye makeup Dianna had so carefully applied was going to run, as
Jamie continued his vow. “… to love and
to cherish… until death do us part.”
He squeezed her hand, and she smiled behind her veil, fighting hard to
get her emotions in check so that she’d be able to speak. Her voice trembled, but she managed to get
out the same words, “I, Claire, take you, James, to be my husband…,” vowing to
love and cherish him just the same.
Before she knew it, she had slid a white gold wedding band onto Jamie’s
finger, its pair was gleaming next to the engagement ring on her own hand, and
the minister was declaring, “By the power vested in me by the state of Florida,
I now pronounce you husband and wife.
You may now kiss the bride.”
Claire fought the urge to giggle as Jamie lifted her veil up; his hands
were shaking visibly. She grinned,
before he took her in his arms and kissed the smile from her lips. Tingles of electricity sizzled through her as
she realized she was kissing her husband for the first time.
Then, taking her hand again, Jamie turned her to face the rows of their
family and friends. She caught her
mother’s teary eye first, then her father’s, smiling broadly, as Reverend
Halloran announced, “Ladies and gentleman, I now present Mr. and Mrs. Turner.”
Turner, Claire marveled, realizing she’d
never sign her name the same way again.
Yet as her eyes traveled up the aisle which she would soon walk again,
another last name, like a firecracker, exploded into her brain.
Carter.
For just as the recessional music began, she’d spotted him, sitting in
the back, his eyes seeming to project a ray of bright blue light through the
rows of people, straight to her. And for
just a moment, she froze, her breath catching, her feet refusing to move from
the altar, her heart refusing to beat.
And even as her husband squeezed her hand, urging her to step down, she
found it hard to look away, to break that shining blue connection between her
and him, the man she’d once shouted “Yes!” to from a nest of rumpled bedcovers,
the spontaneous words of his proposal fresh in her mind.
Nick, she thought, and her heart staccatoed
back to life, and her breath released from her throat, and her stomach full of
butterflies somersaulted. And for just a
second, she imagined it was his hand holding hers.
***
AN: Click here to see pictures
of Claire’s wedding dress, engagement ring, and more.