Toss the Bride (20 page)

We eat breakfast on the balcony. We watch kids play in the surf, the early-morning sun lighting up the sea oats on the sand dunes. They rustle in the constant breeze. I know I will love their rattle-rattle sound forever, just like I will always love Abigail Island.

“I adore this,” I say, leaning back in my canvas chair.

“Let's go for a walk,” Avery says. His face looks anxious, and my stomach takes a dip.

I slip out of cotton pajama pants into shorts and quickly choose a yellow T-shirt. Is yellow romantic? Does it say “love me forever”? I wonder how far we will walk before—or if—he pops the question. I hope it will not be in front of anyone else. I want a little privacy. Our options run through my head. The sand dunes are nice. So is the space a little to the left of the condo building. But farther down the beach, well, that is too crowded. I leave my shoes in the bedroom and walk out into the living room.

Avery waits by the couch. As I cross the room, I notice he looks a little funny. I guess I do, too. If this is the day, we are getting ready to take a huge step.

“Macie,” Avery says, his voice a little stringy, “Before we leave this condo, I want it to be as an engaged couple. I want to walk outside knowing we will spend the rest of our lives together.”

All thoughts leave my head. The beach, sandals, walking—it all floats away in an instant. I reach for his hands. They shake.

“Macie, from the first minute I saw you and slyly wormed my way into helping you move into your first Atlanta apartment, I have been captive to your charm, your independence, and your good humor. You are lovely, funny, and so loyal. I am a better person because of loving you. I taste candy bars for a living because I want you to be proud of me. I can only think of growing older with you,” Avery says, his eyes wet.

I reach up to dab an escaped tear at the corner of his eye. “Oh, Avery, honey.”

And then he is sinking down onto the condo floor and pulling out a ring from his pants pocket. “Will you be my wife?” he asks, looking up at me. I do not like being so far away from him, so I sit on the floor, too, laughing and kissing him.

“Yes, yes, yes!” is my answer. I say it again, just to be sure. “Yes! I will marry you!”

*   *   *

The end of a lopsided pier is not my idea of the best place for a wedding, but it was available on short notice, as was the minister, a man who goes by the professional name of the Reverend Love. He is waiting for us at the end of the pier, floral-print surfer shorts and a week's beard included. I get that familiar rat-tat-tat in my chest that usually signals an hour to show time. An additional tightness reminds me I am also worried because I have no idea where Avery is, no idea at all.

The beach crowd thins as children splash out of the surf reluctantly and couples stroll off the sand toward waiting villas and dinner reservations. It is probably about 7:00
P.M
. By the time the string quartet I've hired at the last minute plays the final song, the burnt orange sun will be slowly melting into the horizon, coloring the waves a shadowy red and yellow. It will be perfect.

As if on cue, a car pulls into the public parking lot and parks in the first space closest to the pier. Immediately, deep, thumping bass notes and the whine of an electric guitar float out of the car. Two teenage boys jump out and open up the doors to allow the music a little more freedom. Mission accomplished, they each take a side of the hood and lean back, arms folded in almost the exact same pose.

I groan inwardly. This would have never happened on a private beach, the kind with which I am used to working. Although I usually ridicule those beaches for their snotty barred gates and gangsterlike security personnel, I was starting to see certain advantages to the finer things, namely a well-secured entrance and a guard named Slake. Maybe when Avery shows up, I could have him chat with the loud music boys. Or maybe they would leave on their own before the ceremony.

From another end of the parking lot, a group walks slowly toward the pier. Right on time, it is the string quartet with each member toting an instrument case across the sandy lot. A wind whips up the dresses of the two women in the quartet. I glance up to see a cloud tumble overhead in the sky. I silently will any raindrops far away from the beach. No rain can fall on this event. It has to be perfect.

There will be few witnesses at the wedding ceremony, but I still do a practiced check over the weathered boards of the pier, looking for trash and anything out of order. I greet the Reverend Love and assure him that yes, he will be paid once the groom arrives.

I wonder if Avery will ever get here. He is bringing the flowers and a garland of sea grasses to string along the railing at the pier's end. Without the flora and fauna, I am afraid the ceremony will be little more than a few words rushed into the sinking of the sun. Bending down to pick up a spent gum wrapper, I see the new flash of the diamond on my left hand. My impatience washes away in an instant. The details do not matter, only that one bride and one groom show up and make vows they mean to keep for a lifetime.

Avery arrives a few minutes later and he kisses me gently, his arms full of two large boxes from the only florist on the island. He mentions that I still have a dazed look on my face. I know it is funny, but I haven't stopped smiling since he put the ring on my finger.

And it was that easy, I reflect as Avery and I string garland on the pier. We have now been engaged for four full days. I love it. I love thinking about living with Avery as husband and wife. I love looking at my ring and letting the light catch the four points of the princess-cut stone. I love the two dark blue sapphires on either side of the diamond. It is corny, but I love being in love.

When we finish setting up the pier and arranging the musicians, I look at Avery and take a deep breath. The loud car in the parking lot pulled away a few minutes ago. Everything is in place. “Are you ready?”

He reaches for his cell phone. “Ready.”

Within a few minutes, Jessica and Kevin walk toward the pier holding hands. She wears a flowing, white, layered chiffon dress and no shoes. A wispy veil falls to the middle of her back. Kevin looks over at her with almost every step and nervously adjusts the collar of his white dress shirt. He looks scared, but confident at the same time. Their intertwined hands rock back and forth as they walk. When they approach the end of the pier, they turn away from each other and face Avery and me.

“Jessica, you are a beautiful bride,” I say and give her a hug. A seagull lands on the pier and regards the garland suspiciously from a tall post.

“Thanks to you, Macie. I don't know what we would have done without you,” Jessica said.

I hand her a pretty bouquet of wildflowers. Avery pins a simple boutonniere to the lapel of the groom's suit coat. The Reverend Love glances at his watch. It is time to get this couple married.

“Lucky for you, Jessica and Kevin, my fiancée has a soft spot for weddings and a habit of talking to strangers,” Avery says.

Jessica laughs and rejoins her hand with Kevin's. “I hope she never stops. If I hadn't run into her at the airport, we would be down here without knowing what to do. In four days, Macie called all the right people and now, we're getting married!”

“It's not my dime, but we're losing the light,” calls the Reverend Love, clapping his hands together.

I take my place beside Jessica, and Avery stands up for Kevin. I nod to the musicians, who begin a spirited movement from Handel's “Water Music.” When the last note is played, the reverend says a few words about love and harmony and peace, and just when I think he is about to wax poetic on the environment, he asks if the bride and groom have any special vows.

Kevin looks to Jessica. “I have something I want to say. It's not written out or anything.”

The Reverend Love glances to the sun that is starting its descent to the water. “That's cool.”

Kevin turns and faces his bride. Gripping her hands tightly, he says, “Jess, I am standing here because I love you, and everything that happens to you matters to me. I knew how upset you were when our original wedding plans didn't work out, but I just figured we would get married later. It was only after our plane flight down here that I saw how much you wanted to be married. And that's what I want to say to you. For the rest of our lives, I want to always look through your eyes and see what matters to you, what you care about.”

Jessica starts crying, but her eyes do not stop looking at Kevin. A soft, sunset light falls across our little party as we listen. Even the reverend looks interested.

“I stand here now, asking you to share my life. I don't have much, but I promise to honor, love, and cherish you all the days of my life.” Kevin pauses, unable to speak another word.

Jessica stands up straight and in a soft voice says, “And I will honor, love, and cherish you, knowing that when I fell in love with you, I found a love for the rest of my life.”

The reverend has the couple exchange rings and promise to forsake all others. As the sun drops by gentle segments into the sea, the quartet plays an arrangement of Saint-Saëns's “The Swan.” I cry, something I never do when I am working. But this feels different, like I am doing this for a friend. Even though I have only known Jessica five days, it seems as if we have been friends for a long time.

“Do you want to come with us to dinner to celebrate?” Kevin asks as we walk toward the parking lot. A brisk wind whips at our clothes. Jessica's veil twirls behind her.

Avery and I look at each other. “That's sweet,” I say, “But you should be alone. This is your honeymoon, after all.”

Kissing Kevin, Jessica tosses her bouquet in my direction. “You're next. I don't need this anymore!”

I clutch the bunch of fresh flowers. They smell sweet and clean. I am suddenly happy with every small thing about life. Avery catches my eye and offers his hand to Kevin. I hug Jessica again and whisper, “Be happy.”

“We will.”

Avery and I walk back toward our rental car. The lot is deserted, our only company a stray cat hopping in and out of the trash cans in the corner.

He puts the car in gear and we head for the condo a few miles away. “Well, it certainly was awesome that Jessica ran into you,” Avery says. “You will be in all of their stories from now on: ‘And there we were, depressed and unmarried, when Jessica struck up a conversation in the ladies' room at the Atlanta airport with a pretty wedding coordinator who ended up saving the day.' Yep, I can hear the dinner table conversation now.

“You were great with them, Macie,” Avery continues, turning his face toward me in the car. “I was really proud of you.”

I am quiet, the flowers in my lap. I think about the last four days. First, there was the engagement and all of the excitement surrounding the trip. After Avery proposed, we walked on the beach for two hours until we were exhausted. We dropped into a little seafood shack off the beach and discovered the world's best she-crab soup. When our waitress found out about our engagement, she brought us slices of key lime pie on the house.

I called my parents, and Avery called his. No one was very surprised. That was when I found out Avery had driven down to Cutter to ask my parents for my hand. His own folks knew what he was up to this weekend, and they seemed genuinely happy for us. I immediately wondered what I should call his parents once we were married. Dad? Mom? Mr. L.? Babs? The whole thing gave me a headache, so I decided to worry about it later. Maybe when I got home I could find a book about being a daughter-in-law at the library. I also called Iris, of course, and Maurice. He did not pick up his cell phone, so I left a message.

“What are you thinking about?” Avery asks, pulling me back to the present. We're getting pretty close to the condo.

“Oh, just how wonderful it is to have an entire life stretched out in front of you. And to be in love at the same time.”

“You haven't mentioned any of the planning or when you want to have the wedding, Mace. That surprises me,” Avery says.

We reach the condo and head up the wooden steps. I am suddenly tired and long to fall asleep to the sound of the rambunctious waves outside the window. I stifle a yawn. “Can we talk about this some other time?”

Avery gives me a funny look. “Okay, whatever you want to do. I just figured you would be hopping on that right away. You know, get Maurice all involved. Although, honestly, I don't know if my parents can afford him.”

“What's that supposed to mean? Don't you think my parents can pay for my wedding?” I put my hands on my hips as Avery fumbles with the key.

He turns, surprised, and holds out his hands. “Whoa, easy, tiger. I just meant, well, Maurice is expensive. You know, he's the all-star wedding planner. I know your parents can pay for your wedding, but if my parents have their way, I'm sure we'll need everyone's pennies.”

“Have their way? So, this is your mother's wedding now?”

“No! I mean, I'm sure she will have input. Everyone will. But it's our wedding. You and me.” Avery tries to nudge me inside the condo, but I pull away.

The ocean rolls close by in the darkness. Our condo neighbors have their windows open, the sounds of a television game show tinny in the air. I wonder if the neighbors are a married couple, bored of the beach and its distractions. Or they could be a young, newly engaged couple like us, enjoying a few brainless moments in front of the tube.

“Mace, what's wrong? What did I say?”

“It's nothing. I guess I was just cross for a minute.” We walk inside, something between us in the air. I go into the bedroom and kick off my sandals. My sundress is wrinkled and needs ironing if I want to wear it again this week. I notice for the first time how Avery's suitcase takes up half of the floor space near the bathroom door. Is this how rich kids grow up, with all of their stuff spread out everywhere?