A Wedding in Truhart (20 page)

Nick looked up from his conversation and spotted me. He narrowed his eyes and a muscle in his cheek twitched. He took a deep breath, then blinked and looked back at Ian. I felt like nothing more than a smudge on the wall.

“Look at this, Annie,” said Charlotte as she spotted me. She held up a large crystal bowl and Henry grabbed it from her.

“Charlotte and I think it would be great for popcorn. Hey, we could use it for the bowl games that are on during the reception. It's fancy enough for a wedding football game. What do you think? Right in front of the TV in the lobby, Annie?” He held the bowl out for me.

Ian spoke up, his voice tinged with familiar sarcasm. “You might want to keep it away from Bump, Henry. Ever since she cracked Aunt Addie's antique Waterford vase, she isn't allowed near anything fragile. I had to put the angel Gabriel and the shepherd on the mantel this year.”

Ian and Charlotte laughed. That hurt since she knew the full story. Nick put his hands in his pockets and looked at the ceiling. In the old days he might have defended me against the two of them when they ganged up on me. Now, he just stifled a yawn.

Nestor had worked his magic and the aroma of veal scaloppini and morel mushrooms drifted from the kitchen. It was a special meal to welcome the arrival of Henry and his family.

Ian ignored the gifts Charlotte had unwrapped and was preoccupied with the food. “Hey, you've been helping Nestor in the kitchen, Bump. Ten dollars if you steal me a small plate. Charlotte was going to, but he won't suspect you.”

I shook my head and declined. On any given day I was up for that kind of bribe. In fact, I made twice my allowance on Ian's bribes when I was growing up. But now I couldn't bring myself to take the bait.

“Since when do you refuse a challenge, and cash, Bump?” he asked.

I sent him a withering look. I wasn't in the mood for his games today.

Looking beyond Ian, I could see Nick leaning against a table, his gaze resting on me. Expecting to be confronted with his indifference again, I realized I had been mistaken. His dark eyes bore holes in me and I took a step back.

Nick wasn't just trying to avoid me. I was pretty sure he hated me.

I opened my mouth to say something, but realized Ian was still talking. “What's wrong, Bump? Changing your mind? Nestor won't care.” He pulled a bill out of his pocket and dangled it in front of my face.

I shifted my gaze to Ian. Then I looked back at Nick. I couldn't stand the thought that he detested me. I didn't know what to say.

“I'm so sorry,” I managed.

Nick pressed his lips together and looked away.

“I don't blame you for hating me.” I couldn't swallow past the lump in my throat.

“It isn't that big a deal, Bump,” said Ian quickly, panicking at the tears in my eyes.

I gulped, trying to keep myself from falling apart.

I couldn't see Nick's face anymore, but I heard him. “Annie . . .”

As an awareness of my actions this morning sunk in, something else inside me was taking shape. I was beginning to understand the full impact of my mistake.

Ever since the weekend in Atlanta I had hounded Nick for answers about why he never visited Truhart. I had accused him of ignoring his mother and caring more about himself than her loneliness. I had baited him. I had teased him. And I had locked him in the old barn. A place that haunted him.

Like an imbecile, I hadn't thought past my own worries. I had failed to recognize that this wonderful, caring man would never be cruel to anyone, especially his family. A sheet of icy perspiration grew at the back of my neck and I rubbed it away. I was too ashamed to stay.

I turned and rushed through the kitchen and out the back door to the annex. When I reached my bedroom I flung myself on my bed and curled into a ball. As I sat there surrounded by my old pastel wallpaper and sentimental belongings, images of my childhood rose before me.

I remembered all the times Ian and his friends had called me annoying names, broken my toys, and made fun of me for being a pesky little sister. But not Nick. If I fell off my bike, he had been the first to pick me up off the ground while everyone else laughed. When the boys stole my doll to use as Queen of the Damned in their superhero games, he had wrestled it away from them. Even if Aunt Addie was about to yell at me for using her curlers to build ramps for our Matchbox cars, Nick would say it was his idea.

But instead of thanking him for his protection, I had done things like throw sticks at him, or chase him when we played tag—even if I wasn't “it.” I had spied on him when he swam in the pond, and stolen his towel before throwing it up to the highest branch of a tree.

I had stood near him at his father's funeral and watched a war I didn't understand play across his face. And then I had harassed him about not coming home, failing to recognize that his war was right here.

And now, I had accused him of being coldhearted. Of caring more about granite than his mother.

The truth was, even though I loved Nick with all my heart, I hadn't been kind to him.

A
s the winter sun sank lower in the sky, I helped in the kitchen, hiding from the guests and Nick, and tried to pull myself together. I had been through worse. I had seen death and sickness and sorrow. Hell, I had photographed sorrow.

And Nick had never really been mine.

Somewhere in my girlish crush, I had failed to realize that he was more than just a hero on a pedestal. He was a man with complications and fears and all the messy things that people had in their lives.

I loved him even more for that.

But I didn't deserve him.

I stood at the sink and smoothed the apron at my waist. I took a deep breath. My sister was getting married in two days and there was so much more to think about than myself.

As if my thoughts had conjured her up, Charlotte swung open the door to the kitchen.

“Have you seen my wedding dress?” she asked. Her hair hung down over her eyebrow as if she had been pulling at it, and her eyes were round with panic.

“Your wedding dress?” I asked dumbly.

“Yes. My dress.”

“You mean you can't find it?”

She turned from me in exasperation and I followed her as she ran to the lobby.

“Annie hasn't seen it. But it has to be here! Are you sure you didn't unload it somewhere?” she asked Ian, who was looking down at her warily. “Ian, my God, if this is your idea of a joke, I'll kill you. This isn't funny!”

Ian put his hands up. “I haven't seen it.”

I looked out the open front doors and saw Henry and Nick searching through the backseat of the SUV. All the doors of the cars were open and Aunt Addie was yelling at them from the front bumper.

“It was in an oversize black bag with Bellasposa written on it,” Charlotte said through the doorway.

“Maybe with that fancy French name the French guy thought it was his,” said Aunt Addie hopefully.

“Bellasposa is Italian, Aunt Addie,” said Charlotte, rolling her eyes in exasperation.

Mom entered the lobby, a worried look on her face. “Grady hasn't seen it. Charlotte? Didn't you see your dress at the airport?”

“Yes. They let me carry it on the plane for an extra fee. And I carried it off the plane.”

Scarlett and June hurried down the stairs. “I've checked with Alain and he hasn't seen the dress since we were in baggage claim.”

“Well, I know I saw it when we picked up the rental cars,” said June.

“Me too,” added Charlotte.

“Okay, that's something,” said Mom, who stood with her arm around Charlotte. Charlotte had begun to breathe in frantic gasps and I reached out and rubbed her back to try to calm her as well.

“Where was the last place anyone saw it?” Mom asked.

The wedding party arrived in the lobby wearing looks of concern. They had searched their rooms and found nothing. Everyone agreed it had been on the curb when they were loading the rental cars. Nick and Henry returned from the cars empty-handed and shut the front doors. Nick cast a glance in my direction and I turned my head away.

“Charlotte,” said Henry. “Did you put it in the SUV or the car?”

“I didn't put it in anything. I thought you did,” she said.

“I didn't see it at all. I assumed you took care of it.”

“It was by the car, Henry. You were handling the luggage. That was your job!” Charlotte's tone had reached a fevered pitch as she looked at Henry accusingly.

“You had been guarding it with your life the whole trip. Why would you just assume I was going to handle it because we were standing by a car?”

“Oh my God! I can't believe this is happening.”

“It's okay, Char,” said Nick in a soothing tone he might have used on me not too long ago. “We can call the airport and see if anyone has claimed it.”

“That's right,” said Travis Hartwick. “This kind of thing happens all the time. They have a place for unclaimed luggage and I am sure even wedding dresses end up there sometimes.”

“We can even ask some of your cousins who are flying in tomorrow to double check when they get to the airport,” said Henry.

“Tomorrow?” Charlotte looked at Henry like he'd lost his mind.

Charlotte, June, and Mom spent the next half hour making phone calls. “We will find it, honey. Don't worry,” Mom repeated over and over.

I couldn't stand to watch Henry and Charlotte continue to blame each other, and it seemed neither could anyone else. We drifted away to various parts of the inn, occupying ourselves before dinner.

By the time we gathered at the table, everyone's good spirits were returning. Bebe, Patty, Kevin, and Richard joked about their trip to Vegas. And Henry teased a glazed-looking Charlotte about her sorry gambling skills.

I helped Nestor serve the meal. Earlier we had pushed several tables together so that we could sit at one long table, family style. It seemed like the right thing to do since this wasn't supposed to be a formal meal. Even so, Nestor had outdone himself.

Kevin closed his eyes after his first bite. “Wow, I'm in Nirvana. Thank God we didn't get delayed on our flight to Traverse City or we would have missed this.”

“It's too bad we don't have a closer airport,” Mom said.

“Hey, Nick,” shouted Aunt Addie from the end of the table. “George Bloodworth has been talking about an airport for years. If we built ourselves something here nobody would have to use Traverse City's airport. You should talk to him about a design.”

I was still putting plates on the table and as I passed her I put my hand on Aunt Addie's wrist. “Nick doesn't do that kind of thing, Aunt Addie.” I could feel Nick's eyes on my face.

“Well, he might—

“No, I don't think so, but tell me—does Corinne's nephew still have a plane?”

Aunt Addie was easily rerouted as she talked about our local daredevil.

Finally, I sat down at the end of the table next to Jessica and opposite Alain and Aunt Addie. Between Jessica's lack of conversation and the way Aunt Addie seemed to enjoy mispronouncing Alain's name, I felt like I was sitting at the kiddie table. At the other end, Henry and Ian entertained everyone with their views on football while June and Scarlett name-dropped. Nick and Brittany sat together, their heads bowed in conversation. It must have been riveting, the way Nick nodded his head and gazed at her so intently.

The more lively the other end of the table grew, the quieter ours became. Aunt Addie seemed to have decided Alain wasn't worth her time because she turned her back on him and asked Nestor about morel mushroom hunting.

As for me, I barely had a chance to eat. Every time I raised my fork to my mouth someone needed something. I had just returned from the kitchen with a third helping for Travis, when Charlotte asked, “Can you get us some more water since you're up again, Annie?”

I moved to the sideboard and grabbed a pitcher. Making my way down the table, I refilled glasses while everyone continued their conversation. From the corner of my eye I caught Nick frowning down at his plate. Maybe he was finally bored with Brittany's chatter. Just as I approached him he put his hand over his glass.

“I can do that for myself, Annie,” he said quietly, still staring at his glass. Brittany kept talking, but he didn't notice her.

“Sorry,” I said, and moved on. Evidently just my presence in the same room irritated him. If this was the way he was going to be for the next few days, I didn't know how I was going to keep myself from falling apart.

 

By 11:00 p.m. only a handful of people were still awake. Earlier, Ian and Nick had taught the guys how to play euchre. Now Kevin, Ian, Henry, and Nick sat around the game table in the corner of the lobby and argued about their cards among empty beer bottles and cookie crumbs. Travis Hartwick and Scarlett Francis had signed on to WiFi and I was glad that a friend of Ian's had finally fixed it last month. They were buried in their laptop screens.

The shrill sound of the lobby phone made Charlotte jump. She answered it before the first ring ended. It was the airline. We waited impatiently for the news.

Two minutes later, she hung up the phone and clapped her hands. “They found my dress!”

A collective cheer went up around the room. In a bizarre turn of events, her dress had ended up in Houston, of all places. The airline was flying it back to Traverse City and it would be in Truhart by tomorrow night.

“Damn! I was looking forward to seeing you in Annie's ugly old prom dress,” said Ian. Charlotte threw a sofa pillow at him. Nick caught it in midair as it missed its mark and re-aimed, hitting Ian on the head. I tried not to stare like a sick puppy as Nick laughed at Ian. It was one of the few times he had smiled since dinner.

“Well, it looks like you might have some more luck, Charlotte, honey,” said Travis, staring at his computer. “The weather report says Michigan is going to have a little snow tomorrow.”

Scarlett laughed. “If that's the weather report from the GATE Network, they always get things wrong. It will probably rain.”

“That means there could be ice,” said Mom as she rose to go to bed. “Ian, did you get the new bag of sidewalk salt out of the golf shack like I asked?”

“Mom, I'll do it tomorrow. I'm beat,” said Ian. The game had just finished. He threw his cards on the table in defeat. Losing always made him crabby.

“I asked you three times—”

“I'll do it,” I said. “But you owe me, Ian.”

I could use the cold air and a good walk.

“See you all tomorrow,” said Nick as the rest of the card players said good night. He flung on his coat and found his keys in his pocket, not once looking my way. He bent down and kissed Charlotte on the cheek. “Glad you found your dress, Char.”

When Nick closed the front door, the remaining group needed little encouragement and trudged off to bed. It had been a long day for the weary travelers, and tomorrow was a big day, with the rehearsal dinner and last-minute preparations.

Slipping into my coat and gloves, I grabbed the keys to the golf shack and flipped on the outdoor lights to help me see my way. It wasn't far from the house. But the moon was behind the clouds and the night was darker than usual.

When we were little, we always begged my parents to let us host sleepovers in the golf shack. My father would guide us to the shack with a flashlight and make sure we were settled before heading back to the inn. One of our favorite pastimes was to play truth or dare. The most terrifying dare was to run back and forth between the shack and the house in the dark of the night without a flashlight.

When I reached the shack I pulled my hands out of my gloves and unlocked the door. I flipped the light switch and the bulb flickered and cracked before it went out. Great. I felt my way to a low table in the corner and turned on a small camp lamp. Its dim glow cast shadows in the room that reminded me of all the nights we had conjured up shadow monsters on the wall with our hands.

Two old couches sat across from each other with a low table between. Near the doorway was an old refrigerator where we kept sodas and beer for hot days on the golf course. I moved a pile of boxes in the corner and cleared away the extra golf clubs and shoes that were piled up. I searched until I located several bags of rock salt tucked between a box and the refrigerator. I grabbed one that was half empty. I hoped we would need it. With its rustic charm, the inn looked its best in the winter. A pretty snow would be perfect for Charlotte's New Year's Eve wedding.

I turned to leave and bumped into a dark form.

I screamed.

Or at least I thought I did. What came out was more like a hiccup. It took me a moment of hyperventilating panic to realize who stood in front of me.