Unfinished Business (13 page)

“I love you, too.” Vanessa brought their joined hands to her cheek for a moment. “I always have.” And that was what hurt the most. She rose and managed to smile. “I think you should get some sleep. You want to look your best tomorrow.”

“Yes. Good night, Van.”

“Good night.” She closed the door quietly behind her.

V
anessa heard the hiss at her window and blinked groggily awake. Rain? she thought, trying to remember why it was so important there be no rain that day.

The wedding, she thought with a start, and sat straight up. The sun was up, she realized as she shook herself. It was streaming through her half-opened window like pale gold fingers. But the hiss came again—and a rattle.

Not rain, she decided as she sprang out of bed. Pebbles. Rushing to the window, she threw it all the way up.

And there he was, standing in her backyard, dressed in ripped sweats and battered sneakers, his legs spread and planted, his head back and a fistful of pebbles in his hand.

“It's about time,” Brady whispered up at her. “I've been throwing rocks at your window for ten minutes.”

Vanessa leaned an elbow on the sill and rested her chin in her palm. “Why?”

“To wake you up.”

“Ever hear of a telephone?”

“I didn't want to wake your mother.”

She yawned. “What time is it?”

“It's after six.” He glanced over to see Kong digging at the marigolds and whistled the dog to him. Now they both stood, looking up at her. “Well, are you coming down?”

She grinned. “I like the view from here.”

“You've got ten minutes before I find out if I can still shimmy up a drainpipe.”

“Tough choice.” With a laugh, she shut the window. In less than ten minutes, she was creeping out the back door in her oldest jeans and baggiest sweater. Thoughts of a romantic assignation were dispelled when she saw Joanie, Jack and Lara.

“What's going on?” she demanded.

“We're decorating.” Brady hefted a cardboard box and shoved it at her. “Crepe paper, balloons, wedding bells. The works. We thought we'd shoot for discreet and elegant here for the ceremony, then go all out down at Dad's for the picnic.”

“More surprises.” The box weighed a ton, and she shifted it. “Where do we start?”

They worked in whispers and muffled laughter, arguing about the proper way to drape crepe paper on a maple tree. Brady's idea of discreet was to hang half a dozen paper wedding bells from the branches and top it off with balloons. But it wasn't until they had carted everything down the block to the Tuckers that he really cut loose.

“It's a reception, not a circus,” Vanessa reminded him. He had climbed into the old sycamore and was gleefully shooting out strips of crepe paper.

“It's a celebration,” he replied. “It reminds me of when
we'd roll old Mr. Taggert's willow every Halloween. Hand me some more pink.”

Despite her better judgment, Vanessa obeyed. “It looks like a five-year-old did it.”

“Artistic expression.”

With a muttered comment, Vanessa turned. She saw that Jack had climbed on the roof and was busily anchoring a line of balloons along the gutter. While Lara sat on a blanket with a pile of plastic blocks and Kong for company, Joanie tied the last of the wedding bells to the grape arbor. The result of their combined efforts wasn't elegant, and it certainly wasn't artistic. But it was terrific.

“You're all crazy,” Vanessa decided when Brady jumped from the tree to land softly beside her. He smelled lightly of soap and sweat. “What's next? A calliope and a snake charmer?”

He reached into a box and drew out another roll of white and a roll of pink. “The mall was out of calliopes, but we've still got some of this left.”

Vanessa thought a moment, then grinned. “Give me the tape.” With it in her hand, she raced to the house. “Come on,” she said, gesturing to Brady. “Give me a boost.”

“A what?”

“I need to get up on your shoulders.” She got behind him and leaped up nimbly to hook her legs around his waist. “Try to stand still,” she muttered as she inched her way upward. He tried not to notice that her thighs were slender and only a thin layer of denim away. “Now I need both rolls.”

They juggled the paper and tape between them.

“I like your knees,” Brady commented, turning his head to nip at one.

“Just consider yourself a stepladder.” She secured the tips
of the streamers to the eaves of the house. “Move back, but slowly. I'll twist as you go.”

“Go where?”

“To the back of the yard—to that monstrosity that used to be a sycamore tree.”

Balancing her and craning his neck behind him to be sure he didn't step on an unwary dog—or his niece—or in a gopher hole, he walked backward. “What are you doing?”

“I'm decorating.” She twisted the strips of pink and white together, letting the streamer droop a few inches above Brady's head. “Don't run into the tree.” When they reached it, she hooked her feet around Brady's chest and leaned forward. “I just have to reach this branch. Got it.”

“Now what?”

“Now we do another from the tree to the other side of the house. Balance,” she said, leaning forward to look at him. “That's artistic.”

When the deed was done, and the last scrap of colored paper used, she put her hands on her hips and studied the results. “Nice,” she decided. “Very nice—except for the mess you made of the sycamore.”

“The sycamore is a work of art,” he told her. “It's riddled with symbolism.”

“It looks like Mr. Taggert's willow on Halloween,” Joanie chimed in as she plucked up Lara and settled her on her hip. “One look at that and he's going to know who rolled it in toilet paper every year.” She grinned up at Vanessa, who was still perched on Brady's shoulders. “We'd better run. Only two hours until countdown.” She poked a finger in Brady's chest. “You're in charge of Dad until we get back.”

“He's not going anywhere.”

“I'm not worried about that. He's so nervous he might tie his shoelaces together.”

“Or forget to wear shoes at all,” Jack put in, taking Joanie's arm to lead her away. “Or he could wear his shoes and forget his pants, all because you were standing here worrying about it so you didn't get home and change and get back in time to nag him.”

“I don't nag,” she said with a chuckle as he pulled her along. “And Brady, don't forget to check with Mrs. Leary about the cake. Oh, and—” The rest was muffled when Jack clamped a hand over her mouth.

“And I used to put my hands over my ears,” Brady murmured. He twisted his head to look up at Vanessa. “Want a ride home?”

“Sure.”

He trooped off, still carrying her, through the neighboring yards. “Putting on weight?” He'd noticed she was filling out her jeans very nicely.

“Doctor's orders.” She gave his hair an ungentle tug. “So watch your step.”

“Purely a professional question. How about I give you an exam?” He turned his head to leer at her.

“Look out for the—” She ducked down so that the clotheslines skimmed over her head. “You might have walked around it.”

“Yeah, but now I can smell your hair.” He kissed her before she could straighten up again. “Are you going to make me some breakfast?”

“No.”

“Coffee?”

She chuckled as she started to squirm down his back. “No.”

“Instant?”

“No.” She was laughing when her feet hit the ground. “I'm going to take a long, hot shower, then spend an hour primping and admiring myself in the mirror.”

He gathered her close, though the dog was trying to wiggle between them. “You look pretty good right now.”

“I can look better.”

“I'll let you know.” He tipped her face up to his. “After the picnic, you want to come by, help me look at paint chips?”

She gave him a quick, impulsive kiss. “I'll let you know,” she said before she dashed inside.

 

Loretta's nerves seemed to have transferred to her daughter. While the bride calmly dressed for her wedding day, Vanessa fussed with the flower arrangements, checked and re-checked the bottle of champagne that had been set aside for the first family toast, and paced from window to window looking for the photographer.

“He should have been here ten minutes ago,” she said when she heard Loretta start downstairs. “I knew it was a mistake to hire Mrs. Driscoll's grandson's brother-in-law. I don't understand why—” She turned, breaking off when she saw her mother.

“Oh. You look beautiful.”

Loretta had chosen a pale, pale green silk with only a touch of ecru lace along the tea-length hem. It was simple—simply cut, simply beautiful. On an impulse, she'd bought a matching picture hat, and she'd fluffed her hair under the brim.

“You don't think it's too much?” She reached up, her fingers skimming the hat. “It is just a small, informal wedding.”

“It's perfect. Really perfect. I've never seen you look better.”

“I feel perfect.” She smiled. As a bride should, she was glowing. “I don't know what was wrong with me last night.
Today I feel perfect. I'm so happy.” She shook her head quickly. “I don't want to cry. I spent forever on my face.”

“You're not going to cry,” Vanessa said firmly. “The photographer— Oh, thank God, he's just pulling up outside. I'll— Oh, wait. Do you have everything?”

“Everything?”

“You know, something old, something new?”

“I forgot.” Struck by bridal superstition, Loretta started a frantic mental search. “The dress is new. And these…” She touched a finger to her pearls. “These were my mother's—and her mother's, so they're old.”

“Good start. Blue?”

Color rose in Loretta's cheeks. “Yes, actually, under the dress. I have, ah… My camisole has little blue ribbons down the front. I suppose you think I'm foolish buying fancy lingerie.”

“No, I don't.” Vanessa touched her mother's arm, and was surprised by the quick impulse she had to hug her. Instead, she stepped back. “That leaves borrowed.”

“Well, I—”

“Here.” Vanessa unclasped the thin gold braided bracelet she wore. “Take this, and you'll be all set.” She peeked out the window again. “Oh, here comes Doc Tucker and the rest of them.” With a laugh, she waved. “They look like a parade. Go into the music room until I can hustle them outside.”

“Van.” Loretta was still standing, holding the bracelet in her hand. “Thank you.”

Vanessa waited until her mother was out of sight before opening the door. Mass confusion entered. Joanie was arguing with Brady about the proper way to pin a boutonniere. Jack claimed his wife had tied his tie so tight that he couldn't breathe, much less talk. Ham paced the length of the house and back again before Vanessa could nudge him outside.

“You brought the dog,” Vanessa said, staring at Kong, who had a red carnation pinned jauntily to his collar.

“He's family,” Brady claimed. “I couldn't hurt his feelings.”

“Maybe a leash?” she suggested.

“Don't be insulting.”

“He's sniffing at Reverend Taylor's shoes.”

“With any luck, that's all he'll do to Reverend Taylor's shoes.” He turned back to her as she stifled a giggle. “You were right.”

“About what?”

“You can look better.”

She was wearing a thin, summery dress with yards of skirt in a bold floral print. Its snug contrasting bodice was a rich teal blue, with a bandeau collar that left the curve of her shoulders bare. The gold rope around her neck, and her braided earrings, matched the bracelet she had given Loretta.

“So can you.” In a natural movement, she reached up to straighten the knot in the dark blue tie he was wearing with an oyster-colored suit. “I guess we're all set.”

“We're still missing something.”

She looked around quickly. The baskets of flowers were in place. Joanie was brushing imaginary dust off her father's sleeve while Reverend Taylor cooed over Lara and tried to avoid Kong. The wedding bells were twirling slowly in the light breeze.

“What?”

“The bride.”

“Oh, Lord. I forgot. I'll go get her.” Turning, Vanessa raced into the house. She found Loretta in the music room, sitting on the piano stool taking long, deep breaths. “Are you ready?”

She took one more. “Yes.” Rising, she walked through the house. But at the back door she paused and groped for
Vanessa's hand. Together they crossed the lawn. With each step, Ham's smile grew wider, her mother's hand steadier. They stopped in front of the minister. Vanessa released her mother's hand, stepped back and took Brady's.

“Dearly beloved…” the minister began.

She watched her mother marry under the shade of the maple with paper wedding bells swaying.

“You may kiss the bride,” the minister intoned. A cheer went up from neighboring yards where people had gathered. The camera clicked as Ham brought Loretta close for a long, full-bodied kiss that brought on more whistles and shouts.

“Nice job,” Brady said as he embraced his father.

Vanessa put her confused emotions on hold and turned to hug her mother. “Best wishes, Mrs. Tucker.”

“Oh, Van.”

“No crying yet. We've still got lots of pictures to take.”

With a squeal, Joanie launched herself at them both. “Oh, I'm so happy.” She plucked Lara from Jack's arms. “Give your grandma a kiss.”

“Grandma,” Loretta whispered, and with a watery laugh she swung Lara into her arms. “Grandma.”

Brady laid an arm over Vanessa's shoulders. “How do you feel, Aunt Van?”

“Amazed.” She laughed up at him as Mrs. Driscoll's grandson's brother-in-law scurried around snapping pictures. “Let's go pour the champagne.”

 

Two hours later, she was in the Tucker backyard, hauling a tray of hamburger patties to the grill.

“I thought your father always did the honors,” she said to Brady.

“He passed his spatula down to me.” He had his suit coat off now, his sleeves rolled up and his tie off. Smoke billowed up from the grill as meat sizzled. He flipped a patty expertly.