A Wedding on Ladybug Farm (19 page)

~*~

“Not a good day,” Cici said heavily.  She poured a measure of wine into a glass, reconsidered, and poured a little more.  She handed the glass to Bridget.

“It’s only three o’clock,” Bridget protested, but not very convincingly.

“Feels later.”  Cici poured another glass.

“Well,” said Lindsay, coming into the kitchen, “I guess the good news is that I didn’t pay full price.”

Cici handed her a glass of wine.

Bridget’s face was torn with lines of distress.  “Lindsay, did I tell you how sorry I am?  I thought I had closed the door.  I thought I’d covered the paint tray.  The kitten wasn’t even in the house when I started painting, I swear.  I couldn’t be more upset.”

Lindsay patted her arm reassuringly.  “It wasn’t your fault, Bridge.  It was an accident.”

Cici leaned against the counter with her own glass in hand.  “I don’t suppose Paul had any ideas about the dress?”

“I don’t know.”  Lindsay took a sip of her wine.  “I couldn’t hear him over the weeping.  His, not mine.”

Cici winced.

“I got as much of the paint out as I could,” Bridget assured Lindsay anxiously, “and I left it soaking in liquid soap and warm water, but …” Her tone was dejected.  “I don’t think it’s salvageable.”

Lindsay nodded.  She seemed surprisingly sanguine about the whole thing.  It was a little spooky.

A savory stew simmered on the back burner; their first of the year.  Half a bottle of merlot had been used to deglaze the pan; they were drinking the rest.  A swirl of yellow leaves danced past the window on a vagrant breeze, and Ida Mae had a covered loaf of wheat bread rising in the warm corner near the range. All were signs of a fast-approaching autumn.  They could practically hear the year spinning out.

Lindsay opened the refrigerator and took out a block of cheese.  The other two women watched cautiously as she selected a knife from the rack, and began to slice the cheese onto a platter.  “Do you remember,” she said, “when I first started planning the wedding and I was so worried about all the other wedding problems that we’d had here?  And then I started having all those stupid accidents and you thought it was because I didn’t want to get married?”

Bridget nodded mutely.  Cici said, “Be careful with that knife, Lindsay.”

Lindsay put the knife down and offered the platter of sliced cheese to them.  They each shook their heads.  She picked up a slice of cheese and bit into it thoughtfully. “I think we both were right,” she said.  “I never should have planned a wedding here, and I really didn’t want to get married.”

“Oh Lindsay, don’t say that—”

“You’re just upset about the dress—”

But she gave a quick short shake of her head to silence them.  “I mean, of course I
wanted
to get married, I’m wild about Dominic.”

Bridget and Cici looked relieved, and Lindsay took a sip of her wine.  “But the thing is, weddings are for brides and I’m really not a bride.  I am a grown-up woman who came of age in an era where choosing a man over your women friends was practically an act of treason against the creed of Gloria Steinem, and don’t tell me you don’t know what I’m talking about because you do.”

Cici nodded, sipping her wine.  “Men come and men go, but a good friend is hard to find.”  Bridget looked a little confused, so she added, “It’s a feminist slogan.” 

“So I think,” Lindsay said slowly, piecing together the logic as she spoke, “the problem was that I was trying to be something I wasn’t, and that made me do things I didn’t want to do. Because here’s the thing.”  She looked at them calmly.  “Ida Mae was right.  A wife’s place is with her husband.  But Dominic wanted to build us a house of our own, out of the folly, and I told him no because I didn’t want to leave this house.  Or you guys, or the life we have here.  I should choose him.  I should always choose him.  But I didn’t.  Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Bridget’s voice was quiet and filled with dread.  “No.  I don’t understand.  But it doesn’t sound good.”

Cici put in, “Lindsay, listen.  Maybe you shouldn’t overthink this.  It’s been a rough day.  Why don’t we just finish our wine and not think about this anymore?  Everything will look different in the morning.”

Lindsay smiled softly and shook her head.  “Everything is already different, that’s what I’m trying to say.  Actually, that’s what I’ve been trying
not
to say since I decided to marry Dominic, but once I did, everything changed and I need to stop pretending it didn’t.  That it won’t.  I’m not upset about the dress.  It’s actually kind of a relief.  It wasn’t until I saw the dress, all …”  Here she paused a moment, allowing herself a moment of regret for what might have been.  “All ruined,” she went on, “that I realized I’d been obsessing about the wrong thing.  It’s the marriage, not the wedding, that’s important.  You’d think a person my age would know that.”  

She took a deep breath and let it out again, looking quietly pleased with herself, and also a little sad.  “So as much as I love you guys, and appreciate all the work you’ve done, I choose Dominic.  I choose to live with him in a little house in the woods, and I choose to try to take our two grown-up, complicated lives and try somehow to twist them together into this one semi-cohesive unit.  That’s my first job.  As for the wedding …”

The phone rang and Lindsay, who was closest, held up a finger. “Hold on.”

“That’s got to be Paul again,” Bridget said with a wince.

“And if you think he was upset about the dress,” Cici answered in a near whisper, “wait until she tells him she’s calling off the wedding.”

They heard Lindsay say, “I’m sorry you must have the wrong …”

Bridget’s eyes flew wide.  “She wouldn’t!”

“What do you think this has all been leading up to?” Cici whispered back.  “She was a complete wreck before this and now she doesn’t even have a dress.  She’ll get married at the courthouse, you mark my words.”

“But …”

Lindsay said, “What?  What did you say?”

Something in her tone made them both turn to look at her.  Her head was bent and she gripped the receiver so tightly her knuckles shone white.  The distress in every line of her body was so intense that Cici and Bridget could feel it radiate across the kitchen, and they straightened up, bracing themselves against it.

Lindsay said hoarsely, “Yes.  Yes, I understand.  I’ll be right there.  Thank you.”

There are words that need no follow up, moments that need no interpretation.  In an instant they change your world, and you instinctively know that even while you wait, hopeless and hopeful for the answer to the question you do not want answered:
What’s wrong?

Lindsay replaced the receiver.  Cici put down her glass.  Bridget, frozen in place, just waited.  Lindsay turned to look at them, and then she stood there for another silent eternity, her eyes dark smudges in an otherwise white face.

She said, “That was the hospital in Staunton.  It’s—there’s been an accident.  It’s Dominic.”

~*~

Chapter
Ten

Love Changes Everything

T
here had been other days, other nights, other drives to other hospitals that had been just as terrifying.  The time that Kevin, eight years old, had been hit by a car.  The time that Lori, barely two years ago, had broken her leg at college.  The time that Cici had fallen off the roof.  The time that Lindsay had crashed her car into a telephone pole one icy night.

The night that Bridget’s husband had died.

None of those drives into the abyss of the unknown had been made alone, and this one was no exception.  Cici drove.  Bridget held Lindsay’s hand.  For a while Lindsay babbled in a determined, though slightly incoherent way.  “It can’t be too bad, right?  I mean, he told them to call the house, to call us, and he had to be okay to remember that, right?  Otherwise, I mean, they routinely call the contact person on your emergency card, which I’m sure would be one of his children.  The nurse said they were admitting him, but if it was really bad he’d have a team of surgeons, right?  So it must be okay. They’re just being careful.”  She gave a decisive, self-reassuring nod of her head. “Right?”

“Absolutely,” said Bridget, squeezing her hand.  “Did the nurse say anything else?  You know, about what happened, or what his injuries were?”

Lindsay seemed to shrink before their eyes, like a balloon slowly deflating.  “I didn’t … she didn’t … I should have asked.  I didn’t ask.”  She looked at Bridget with eyes that were dark and stunned and were slowing filling with horror.  “It could be bad, couldn’t it?  They don’t tell you when it’s bad.”  She gripped the seat and leaned forward.  “Cici, how much farther?  Can’t you go faster?  I’ll pay the ticket.  Just go faster.”

Cici glanced at her in the rearview mirror.  “We’re almost there.  And they always tell you when it’s bad, Lindsay.  Just hold on.  Everything’s going to be okay.”

And because they had all been through this together so many times before, they knew that it would.  One way or another, everything would be okay.

~*~

“Everything looks good so far,” the young resident—who couldn’t have been older than Kevin—said, and it wasn’t until those words were spoken that any of the three of them were able to take a deep breath.  “Three broken ribs and a fractured wrist, some ligament damage in the right knee.  We’ll be watching for pneumonia and keeping an eye on that head injury, but if all goes well he should be ready for discharge in a couple of days.”

“I can see him, right?”  Lindsay was already moving past him toward the room.

“He’s a little groggy,” the doctor cautioned. 

“Do you know what happened?” Cici asked.

He consulted his electronic tablet.  “Swerved to avoid a deer, it looks like.”

“Damn fool thing,” Dominic muttered when Cici and Bridget cautiously pushed open the door to his room a few minutes later.  It was unsettling to see the man they were so accustomed to thinking of as vital and unstoppable lying injured in a hospital bed, a purplish bruise creeping down one side of his face and a spot of blood on the gauze bandage that wrapped around his forehead.  He was propped up against the pillows and the lines of his mouth were set against the pain, but still he tried to smile when he saw them.  “Couldn’t have happened at a worse time, eh, my ladies?”

Lindsay, who sat on the bed beside him, squeezed his hand.  Her eyes were red and puffy and she had a tissue clenched in the other hand, but her smile was filled with adoration and relief. “There would never be a good time.”

“Don’t you worry,” he assured her. He seemed short of breath, but that was to be expected. “I’ll be out of here and walking on two feet in plenty of time for the wedding.  Meanwhile …” He cast a labored and apologetic look around the three of them.  “I’ve left you short-handed with too much work to do.”

“Don’t be silly,” Bridget said, “we’re great in an emergency.  It’s what we do best.  We’re just glad you’re okay.”

“You really scared us,” Cici added with a smile. “But Bridget is right—the one thing we know how to do is rise to the occasion, so don’t worry about anything at home.  Now, tell us about the accident.  Where’s your truck?  Do you need us to get anything from it?  Do you want us to call your kids?”

It was decided that there was no point in alarming the children at this point, and the officer who had worked the accident had told Dominic he could call the station to find out where his vehicle had been towed—not that it mattered, because there was very little of it to salvage.  He made a list of things that needed to be done at the winery before he got back, and Bridget assured him that they would go by his house twice a day to take care of the animals.  They could tell he was getting tired long before the nurse came in to check his vitals, so they wished him a restful night, assured him everything was under control, and reconvened in the hallway.

Bridget hugged Lindsay, just because she looked as though she needed it.  “Are you okay?”

Lindsay nodded, swallowing hard.  “Still shaking a little. From relief mostly.”

“Me too,” Bridget admitted.

Cici said, “I think we’re all entitled.  Thank God, Lindsay,” she said, pressing Lindsay’s hand.  “Just … thank God.”

Again Lindsay nodded, unable to speak.  For another moment the three of them just looked at each other with eyes brimming with residue of terror and the depths of gratitude, and then, with almost a single breath, they broke apart.

“Let’s get you settled for the night,” Bridget said.

“We’ll bring back your car and some clothes in the morning,” Cici added.  “We’ll pack a bag for Dominic too.”

Bridget said, “We’ll need a key to his house.”

“Have you got cash for the vending machine?  I’ll bring up a tray from the cafeteria for you before I leave.  I know you don’t feel like eating now but you know you won’t leave Dominic to go down later.”

But when they consulted the nurse’s station about making accommodations for Lindsay to stay with the patient during the night, they were told that, regrettably, that would not be possible.  “Non-family members are asked to observe regular visiting hours,” the duty nurse said.  “It’s hospital policy.”

“But he doesn’t have any family in the state,” Cici objected.

“And I’m his fiancée,” Lindsay insisted.

“When Lori was in the hospital in Charlottesville we all took turns staying with her,” Bridget said.

“I know,” the nurse said, though her expression was sympathetic.  “I just can’t make an exception.  Confidentially, I’m not a fan of the policy, but it is what it is.  It’s too bad you’re not already married.”

“Because if we were there wouldn’t be a problem,” Lindsay said.

Again, the nurse gave her an apologetic, sympathetic look.  “I’m really sorry. I have to get back to my patients.”

Lindsay turned to her friends with such a familiar look of stubborn determination around the set of her lips that they knew instantly it would be futile to point out that it was only for a couple of days, and that she would probably be of more use to Dominic if she came home with them and got some rest, or, failing that, the sofas in the waiting room looked moderately comfortable.  Instead Bridget said, “I’m sure the hospital administrator is still in his office.”

And Cici added, “Or we could talk to the doctor.  He can write an order or something.”

Lindsay said, “This is what I want you to do.”  Her tone was calm and very reasonable, but the glint in her eye was dangerous.  “I want you to call Reverend Holland, and ask him to come to the hospital.”

“Of course,” Bridget said, looking relieved.  “He’s our pastor.  Of course he’ll come.  And people listen to him.”

But Cici watched Lindsay, waiting for the other shoe to drop.  It did.

“Tell him,” Lindsay said, “to bring our marriage license.”

“Oh, Lindsay,” Bridget said softly.

Cici’s brows drew together in concern. “Lindsay, are you sure?  Don’t be impulsive.  It’s one night, two at the most.  Is that really enough to abandon your whole wedding for?”

“We can fix the dress,” Bridget went on urgently, “you know Paul is not going to give up until he does.  And the flowers are ordered and the cake is baked and you’ve worked so hard, Linds.  Are you sure?  Cici’s right.  It’s one night. Is that worth canceling everything for?”

Lindsay just shook her head fiercely.  “One
hour
with him would be worth it, one minute. Don’t you see that?  When I heard that voice on the phone everything changed.  On the ride over here I bargained my whole life to God if only Dominic would be okay.  And I kept thinking about what you said, Bridge, when we were sitting on the porch and I was being so silly about setting the date.  We’re not promised tomorrow.  And you know something?  That’s a good thing, because it means that every minute of every day is already the best time of our lives.  I don’t have to wait for my wedding day.  It’s already here. And now, if you’ll excuse me …” she caught each of their hands in hers and gave a grateful squeeze, “I need to go ask the groom if he’s up to getting married tonight.”

~*~

The bride wore jeans and a tee shirt smudged with blue paint, and she carried a bouquet of white roses that Bridget had bought from the gift shop, stems wrapped in adhesive tape to keep them from dripping.  The bridesmaids tucked in their shirts and put on lipstick.  And the groom, with a rose pinned to his hospital gown, just looked delighted.  When Reverend Holland called for the ring, everyone looked momentarily confused, but then Bridget stepped up to the occasion, donating her own gold band with a whispered, “Something borrowed.  And I want it right back.”

Afterwards, they toasted the happy couple with orange juice and bran muffins from the cafeteria.  Some of the hospital staff brought homemade cookies to the party, and they laughed and they talked until the lengthening of Dominic’s silences reminded them all that he was in the hospital for a reason.  Bridget retrieved her wedding band with the promise to find the rings Dominic had secured in his top dresser drawer and bring them with her in the morning when she returned.  Bridget and Cici walked out with Reverend Holland, thanking him profusely, leaving Lindsay with a comfortable fold-out chair and her own blanket and pillow next to Dominic’s bed.

It was long past dark by the time Bridget and Cici finished the chores at Dominic’s house and their own.  They each took a cup of butternut squash soup from the pot Ida Mae had left warming for them on the stove and sat on the porch in the dark, wearing their heavy sweaters against the crisp night air, warming their hands on the big soup mugs.  The only light came from the pools that were cast by the windows.  It was cold.  It was quiet.  Even Rebel had found his bed, and the malicious kitten—whose name would forevermore be Paint—was snoring softly on Bridget’s pillow.  Every bone, every muscle in their bodies ached from tension and fatigue.  They were so tired, so stunned and battered, they could barely lift the mugs to their lips.  But they were drawn to the porch, to the clean crisp air that washed the smell of the hospital from their lungs and the fear from their pores; to the ritual, to the serenity of home.

“Wow,” said Cici after a time.  “Lindsay’s married.”

“And did you ever, in a million years, picture it like this?”

“Never.”

Bridget sighed a little. “Her beautiful wedding.”

“
Our
beautiful wedding,” Cici corrected, gazing into her soup.  “I think we may have gotten a little more caught up in it than we should have.  Kind of like we did with Lori.”

“I suppose.  But that’s what women do, isn’t it?  We celebrate each other.”

“I’ve never seen her so happy.”

“Dominic seemed glad they decided to do it this way too.”

“We have a lot of phone calls to make tomorrow.  Un-planning a wedding is going to be almost as hard as planning it.”

Bridget said tiredly, “Good thing we’re up to the task.”

They were silent for a time, warming their hands around the mugs, listening to the quiet of the night.

Bridgett said softly, “Do you know what I’m remembering?  The first night we spent here.  There were a billion stars in the sky, remember?  Just like tonight.  I’d never seen so many stars.  And we sat on the steps and felt small and scared and wondered if we’d made a mistake.”

“I remember,” Cici said.

Bridget leaned back in her chair, tilting up her head to see the stars beyond the roofline of the porch.  “I never said anything, but that night I felt as lonely and lost as I’ve ever felt in my life.”

Cici said, “I know.”

“Kind of like I do tonight.”

And Cici said softly, “I know.”

They sat in silence for a time, rocking and sipping their soup.  The porch felt empty without Lindsay, without Dominic.  And yet sorrow, after the great tragedy they had so narrowly escaped, seemed self-indulgent and vain.

“It will be different now,” Bridget said.  “I mean, I’m so happy for Lindsay and Dominic, and I love them both, but it will be different.”