Magical Weddings (138 page)

The shock as they hit the water was not enough to cancel out the pain in her hand. Meredith was gasping and spluttering as she broke the surface, but she treaded water instinctively as she brought her hand up to her chest, cradling it against her.

Ugh, it hurt.

What had she done? Broken a finger, she guessed. Maybe two? Her whole hand was a mass of pain, of searing nerve endings screaming abuse. God damn, but she hoped Mark’s chin felt anywhere near as bad.

“This way, Mer.”

Dave’s voice. Calm, as always, but with an undercurrent of urgency. She kicked toward him, feeling one of her shoes slip off in the cold water. Her skirt clung to her legs, getting in her way, but she reached toward the sound with her good hand, feeling his fingers close around hers.

“Feet against the wall,” he said. “Walk it up.”

Water was running down her face, into her eyes. She couldn’t see, she couldn’t think. But she followed Dave’s instructions, kicking out toward the wall, finding solid footing. He pulled her out of the water with ease, one-handed, not reaching for the hand she was sheltering.

Damn, it hurt. She wanted to curl up into a ball against the throbbing pain, to lie on the ground and sob, but she staggered upright. “I hurt myself.” It was a stupid thing to say, but she couldn’t pull her thoughts into any semblance of order. What had she done?

“Yep.” Dave’s tone was laconic as he wrapped a towel around her shoulders, his hands gentle. “Come with me.” He had an arm around her shoulder, guiding her. She followed him blindly, limping up and down on the one shoe she still wore.

“Wait.” She stopped, the reality of the past moments crashing in on her, and turned. Dave was leading her away from the water, but she couldn’t go, not yet. “Mark.”

“Colin’s taking care of him.” Dave’s voice was grim.

“What?” Meredith shoved her bedraggled hair out of her face so she could see.

Colin wasn’t helping Mark out of the water. The sheriff stood, hands on his hips, watching as Mark hiked himself up onto the wall. One of the lanterns had gotten caught on Mark’s jacket and the roses and jasmine dangled off his shoulder, but his face was contorted with fury. He was barely on his feet before he started toward Meredith.

Colin let him take two steps, then grabbed his arm and tugged him around. “Not so fast.”

Mark raised a fist, then seemed to realize who he was looking at. He turned the fist into a gesticulating thumb, aimed at Meredith. “Assault,” he snarled. “I want her arrested.”

“Trumped by possession with intent to distribute.” Colin didn’t even glance in Meredith’s direction.

Mark stared at him. “Drugs? What are you talking about?”

Colin shook his head in mock sorrow. “Child porn.” He wasn’t in uniform, but he pulled a pair of handcuffs out of his pocket and dangled them in front of Mark’s face. “God, I can’t tell you how happy this makes me,” he added. “You always were an asshole.”

Child porn.

Meredith’s heart sank. Images flashed before her—headlines, a trial, the sheriff’s deputies awkwardly shuffling their feet when they saw her in town, the whispers abruptly stopping when she walked into a room.

How many listings would she lose before she even knew they existed? How many buyers would laugh at the photos and then call someone else? How many people would see her naked, violated,
stupid
teenage self and judge her because of it?

The tears in her eyes were about the pain in her hand, she told herself, but she didn’t resist as Dave put his arm around her shoulders and drew her away.

“I’m going to be sick.” Her stomach churned, acid bubbling up into her throat. Her hand throbbed with pain, the agony pulsing to the rhythm of her heartbeat. A hot tear overflowed, trickling down the side of her nose. She’d never felt worse in her life.

“I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t give you any seafood.” Dave sounded apologetic, offering the last sentence as if it were an excuse.

“What?” Meredith stumbled over a tree root. Where were they going? Dave was leading her away from the party, following a dirt path into the darkness, his warm arm around her shoulders.

“I know seafood makes you sick. I thought maybe I could change what was going to happen.”

“Seafood doesn’t make me sick.” What was Dave talking about? Seafood? Change? Change what? Meredith stopped walking. She pulled away from Dave, putting a few inches of distance between the now sodden towel and his shirt.

“It doesn’t?” Dave stopped next to her. His hand slid off her shoulder, but paused in the middle of her back. “But it did when we were kids.”

“I pretended it made me sick because I didn’t like it. I grew up.” How had Dave known what was coming? What had he been expecting? She couldn’t see his face in the darkness. “What did Natalya say to you?”

“I didn’t know that.”

Meredith didn’t care about the damn seafood. “Tell me what Natalya told you,” she demanded. How could her friend have let this happen to her?

“You know Natalya. She’s cryptic. But she sent Colin and me to wait for you. We were there the whole time. You were never in any danger.”

If that was meant to be reassurance, it didn’t work. Meredith turned away from Dave. She tried to remember what she’d said, what Mark had said, but the words were a blur. One choking sob escaped before she put her good hand up to cover her mouth. “Oh, God.”

“It’s going to be okay. I promise. I promise it’s going to be okay.” Dave patted her back—too soft, too fast, his touch conveying his anxious worry.

Meredith needed to get away. She needed to get home, get dry, get cleaned up. She needed to hide under the covers for the rest of her life.

But she couldn’t.

Not without her mom.

The tears were coming faster now. Meredith wasn’t sure whether they were from pain or anger or humiliation or even grief for the girl she’d been, but she knew she looked a wreck. Wet hair, spoiled make-up, eyes red from crying—and any second now, snot would be sliming its way out of her nose. She couldn’t walk through the party to find her mother like this.

“Can you get my mom and bring her up to the parking lot?” She tried to keep her voice steady, but it wobbled.

“Not yet.” Dave sounded relieved. “Come on.”

Meredith wanted to protest. What? How could he say no? But instead she clenched her teeth to hold back the sobs fighting to break free as he put his hand under her arm and led her down the trail. Within a few minutes, they emerged by the back of the white tent she had noticed earlier. Dave pushed aside the fabric door and ushered her inside.

Under other circumstances, the interior would have both amused and charmed Meredith. Someone—probably the wedding planner—had deemed it necessary to create a luxurious sitting room. The utilitarian port-a-potty in one corner was ugly, but the tent also held three full-length mirrors arranged in a semi-circle, a dressing table stocked with personal care essentials, and several cozy armchairs. Scented candles scattered on surfaces around the space were lit and flickering.

“Here, sit down.” Dave gestured Meredith to a chair in a quiet corner, away from the door.

Her skirt was soaking wet and sticking to the back of her legs, but she sat anyway, sinking into the chair with relief. She wanted to make her brain work again, to focus on the practicalities. Her hand hadn’t stopped hurting, so she probably needed to go to an emergency room, but the nearest hospital was an hour away. How late was the clinic open? Could her hand wait until morning? But she’d never sleep. Could she drive without using her right hand? Her car was automatic, so it ought to be possible. Still, even as she tried to force the wheel of her brain to start spinning, to start solving the problems she faced, the tears kept flowing.

Dave crouched next to her. “What do you need? What can I get for you? Ice? Tissues?” His tone held the desperation of a man made helpless by the sight of tears.

The humiliation burned. Why hadn’t Natalya warned her? Why hadn’t Natalya stopped her? How would she ever look anyone in town in the eye again?

Akira pushed the fabric panel of the door aside and stepped into the tent. She sounded distraught as she said, “That was the most humiliating thing that’s ever happened to me. No one’s ever going to look at me with a straight face again. This is like a nightmare.”

Yes.

Yes, it was.

Meredith put her good hand over her eyes, trying to wipe away her tears before anyone saw her crying as other people followed Akira into the tent. First Zane, his hands raised as if he were trying to console Akira, but his lips fighting hard to hold back a smile. Then Natalya, not smiling, her face looking tense and tired. Her twin boys were behind her, practically chortling with glee.

“That was so cool!” One of the boys bounced on his toes, too excited to stand still.

“We’re gonna be famous,” the other one said, sounding jubilant. “Everybody at our new school is gonna know who we are.”

The flower girl came in next. She wasn’t smiling. While she didn’t look tearful, she seemed almost as distressed as Akira.

“It’s not that bad,” Zane said to Akira, his voice soothing. “At least you missed the cake.”

“I missed the—I missed the—” Akira’s chest heaved, her voice rising. “Okay, so I didn’t throw up on the cake, but I threw up on the minister. How is that better? I threw up on the minister!”

“Yeah, you did.” Zane grabbed for her hands, catching them and holding them still. His grin held the same delighted mischief that Meredith had heard in the boys’ voices. “Thanks for not puking on me, babe.”

“Oh, you.” She gave a sigh and her shoulders relaxed. Her glare turned half-hearted. He drew her forward, and she relented, leaning into him, dropping her forehead against his chest. “I need to change,” she said, her voice muffled. “I got vomit on the hem of my dress. Of my wedding dress.”

“First time all day, though, right? That makes today a good day.” Zane made no move to let her go, just stroked his hand up and down her back.

“That’s a damn low barrier to entry.” Akira wrapped her arms around Zane’s waist and lifted her head to look into his eyes. “It’s been a lovely day. More than I could ever have imagined.”

Zane bent to kiss her, but she turned her head to the side. “I need to brush my teeth.” Her gaze landed on Meredith, sitting in the corner, and Dave, crouched before her, and she gave a startled, “Oh!”

Everyone looked in Meredith’s direction. She stopped brushing away her still dripping tears, dropping her right hand to cushion her injured left hand against her chest and hoping no one could see the tear stains in the flickering candlelight. She tried to force a smile. “I’m sorry for intruding,” she said, her voice husky with smothered tears. “I didn’t realize—”

Dave interrupted her. “Natalya said to bring you here.”

“I did.” Natalya hurried to Meredith’s side, sounding relieved. “Are you okay? How bad is it?”

“How bad is what?” Akira asked, straightening. She didn’t let go of Zane’s waist, but she turned in his arms to face Meredith and Dave. “Are you all right?”

Meredith didn’t respond. What was there to say? It was bad and she was not all right, but she wasn’t going to tell the story.

Natalya ignored Akira’s question as well. She gestured Dave away, taking his place at Meredith’s knees.

“I thought she was going to get sick,” Dave said, looming over Natalya’s shoulder.

Natalya shook her head. “That was Akira.”

“You did know!” Akira sounded annoyed.

The corner of Natalya’s mouth lifted in a half smile. “Trying to change the future I see usually makes it worse. Would you really have rather thrown up on the cake? Or Zane?” She lifted her eyes to Meredith’s in silent apology.

“Pukey cake? Man, that woulda been gross,” one of the boys said.

“Way worse,” agreed the other. “Not cool at all.”

Akira’s chuckle was resigned, but even Meredith managed a weak smile. Her evening could have been worse, too. If Colin hadn’t been waiting, Mark might already be on his way home to post those pictures.

With a quick glance up and around the tent, Natalya started to speak, “Could you—” but Dave was already moving, picking up standing candle holders and bringing them closer. She turned back to Meredith. “Let me see your hand.”

Meredith would much rather not let anyone look at it, at least not until she’d had some nice painkillers or another three glasses of champagne, but Natalya was a doctor and the best medical care Meredith was going to get without a lengthy drive. Gingerly, she placed her hand in her lap. The shadows cast by the candlelight might be making the bruising look worse than it was, but the swelling was unmistakable.

“Can you straighten your fingers?”

Meredith tried. She hissed in pain, drawing in her breath and holding it until she thought she could speak clearly. “Not really.”

With a gentle touch, Natalya examined Meredith’s hand. Her soft strokes on the index and middle fingers were okay, but Meredith couldn’t help flinching and pulling away when Natalya lightly pressed her ring finger.

“Fractured the fourth metacarpal. Maybe the fifth, too.” Natalya rocked back on her heels. “We call it a bar room fracture.”

“What happened?” Akira and Zane asked the question at the same time. Akira sounded shocked, Zane intrigued. Both moved closer to Meredith’s chair.

“What do you call it?” the bouncy twin asked.

“Why do you call it that?” the other one asked.

Natalya turned toward the twins. Speaking decisively, she said, “Mitchell, Michael, I need you to go get me some ice and some napkins. At least two cups of ice. Ask the bartender. And clean napkins. Look on one of the buffet tables or ask Maggie. Do it now, please.”

Meredith couldn’t help chuckling. “That’s the ticket,” she murmured for Natalya’s ears only. “My grandma would have said errands were what God made children’s legs for.”

“Little pitchers, big ears,” Natalya responded. The boys were already out the door. “I should have sent them out sooner. There’s not going to be a lot I can do for you here, I’m afraid. I thought we could…” She glanced toward the little girl, but then shook her head, saying firmly. “But no.”