A Wedding Story (3 page)

“There’s no shape for kissing.” She wasn’t quite sure how the words came out. Her brain was completely disconnected and so her mouth had to be on auto-pilot. Which explained why it didn’t do anything when his eyes closed and his lips descended to hers.

Wel , that wasn’t quite true.

It moaned.

Then her hands turned traitor too and held onto him tighter. What was left of her consciousness decided to do exactly what he told her to do earlier, stay stil and let him do the work. She’d never realized what an ethic the man had. There wasn’t a mil imeter of her mouth he didn’t taste, tease and tempt. Why, he even managed to change gravity somehow because the world seemed to be tipping.

Down, down, down to the nice flat desk.

Very nice...

He final y left her mouth, kissing down the side of her neck, nibbling and saying wonderful things like, “Oh, God, Rhubarb...” She forgot about the rip in her dress as her body got too warm to care about the draft and especial y not when he reached beneath the layers to pul one of her legs up over his hip. Who knew tuxedo slacks were so nice on the skin? He was just a heartbeat from her corset when there came a draft she couldn’t ignore.

One from the doorway.

Fol owed by the thump of a sixty-seven year old priest hitting the ground in shock.

“Holy shit, we kil ed a priest!” Bobby said from his position in Ruth Anne’s cleavage. She was too busy closing her eyes and saying a speedy Act Of Contrition to add anything else to the discussion.

“Come on, Rhubarb, get up! We have to help him.”

Yes, checking to see if he was actual y dead or not might be the saner course of action. Bobby levered her up way faster than he levered her down

—she was not going to think about, remember or God help her, repeat that action—and shuffled her as quickly across the room as they could. She bent down just as Father Larkin’s papery eyelids were starting to rustle.

“He’s alive!” she cried, relief about not going directly to Hel nearly bringing her to tears. She grabbed Bobby’s belt buckle—how’d that get undone?—and pul ed him down so they were both kneeling next to the elderly man. “Father, can you hear me?”

“He’s unconscious, not deaf, Rhubarb.”

She ignored him. It was the only thing to do.

Otherwise she’d look at him, then she’d have to admit she was stil shaky inside from what had happened. Wel , no, first she’d have to admit something had happened, die of shame, then admit she was stil shaky. Bobby seemed to understand because he hugged her closer with his attached hand and patted her side.

Father Larkin’s eyes final y flickered open, out of focus, and he sighed. “Oh...oh my!”

“Just lay there a minute, Father, we’l cal someone for help,” Bobby said, offering a smooth touch to the older man’s spotted hand.

“I thought...you two were on my desk....”

“Of course not, Father. We wouldn’t do something like that on your desk. We were looking for office supplies. Did you take your medicine yet?”

Bobby sounded so sure that if Ruth Anne hadn’t been underneath him, she might have believed him herself.

“I...no, I was coming in...are you sure?” Clarity was returning to Father Larkin’s eyes with a quickness. His gaze darted from one of them to the other and Ruth Anne wasn’t having any luck control ing her flaming blush. “I know what I saw, young man,” he said firmly, raising himself up despite their protests. “I have not gotten to this age without fal ing down a few times, I’l have you know.

You’re not pul ing the wool over anyone’s eyes here, Mr. Wichowski.”

“Look at me, Father. Would I lie to you?”

Ruth Anne chewed her lips hard as she could, trying not to laugh at the huge puppy dog eyes and pouty lips that no doubt saved Bobby from any fate his mother dreamed up. Father Larkin, on the other hand, appeared unaffected. “Without a doubt.”

He final y gave Ruth Anne a longer look, probably registering the bedraggled condition of her dress. “Good Lord, child, what has he done to you?”

“Me?” Bobby cried.

“Wel , technical y, it is your fault,” Ruth Anne had to admit.

“I thought we agreed this was your sister’s fault,”

Bobby replied, not so much as missing a beat until Father Larkin tried to push Bobby out of the way so he could get to his feet. Then his eyes bugged and Ruth Anne felt herself being jolted backward as he instinctively tried to undo the clamping on his wrist by lining her back up with him.

“What is going on with the two of you?” Father Larkin demanded, now sitting up and looking more like the stern disciplinarian they both grew up fearing.

“We’d better let Bobby tel you,” Ruth Anne admitted. No one talked his way out of trouble smoother than Bobby.

Except that was when he decided to break with tradition and tel the truth. Ruth Anne covered her eyes with her hands, trying to ignore the continued patting on her back.

“So, what we need is someone to cut us free,”

Bobby said, finishing his tale of woe and ridiculousness.

“And staple me shut,” she added, stil ing in her palms.

“More than that,” Father Larkin said, getting to his feet and dusting off his knees absently.

Ruth Anne parted her fingers and peeked through. Something in his voice sounded a little too...empowered. When they were kids, everyone lived in terror of Father Larkin and his adherence to the letter of the law. He’d mel owed over the years, watching young terrors turn into God fearing adults, marrying and baptizing babies.

At least, she’d thought he’d mel owed.

She stared up from her place stil on her knees, feeling quite a bit like the eight-year-old Ruth Anne who kneeled in confession because she dreamt she’d kissed Bobby Wichowski and was sure she’d been possessed. He looked just as tal , just as righteous and just as ready to mete out a punishment she was going to hate.

“I’d say what you two need before anything else is to get married.”

Father Larkin stapled Ruth Anne’s dress to the sound of two people reciting a rosary. He cut away a large rectangle to back of her dress to the sound of a few desperate Our Fathers. He pul ed the hook out of Bobby’s wrist to the sound of Bobby getting the back of his head smacked.

“I’ve had fishing hooks embedded worse than that, boy,” was the only sympathy he got.

“Not over an artery, Father,” Bobby sighed, shrugging out of his tuxedo jacket and absently draping it over Ruth Anne’s shoulders. He squeezed them, too, once the heavy fabric was in place.

She stared at the ground, disturbed by how natural it was to have him so close, so supportive.

She grasped at the edges of the coat lapels and pul ed them close across her.

“Truth is, I’d love to marry Rhubarb. She’s a great girl and I’ve been in love with her since she was three-years-old, but she’s got hopes and dreams. Goals. I’d just slow her down.”

He
what
? Since
when
?

“Didn’t look like you were slowing her down any when I came in, boy.”

“I was enthusiastic,” Bobby’s voice squeaked.

He looked down at her, slightly worried, somewhat green, but his eyes so warm and deep that she didn’t know what to think. Was he lying, as he so often did?

Or was it possible that he was tel ing the truth?

Her stomach began to swim. Bobby couldn’t be in love with her. He hated her. He made her crazy.

He insinuated his way into her life and made her blood pressure skyrocket. He enjoyed making her scream.

And she liked doing the same thing...

He tilted his head, a frown making his brows knit as he tried to figure out what she was thinking.

But she didn’t know what to tel him, what to say. She wasn’t sure what she was thinking, feeling, either.

She felt his thumb on her cheek, a gentle brush of the pad across her cheekbone.

How many of her memories had him in them?

What good were any of the memories without him?

She curled her palm around his wrist, clutching it for dear life. In a moment, everything was changing.

Then again, maybe not a moment. Maybe for the twenty-five years she’d been headed for this moment. The second when she realized that Robert Wichowski was the reason she lived and breathed.

Always had been...always would be.

“You okay, Rhubarb?”

She basked in his concern. Thril ed for his touch. Ached for his kiss.

“Uh-uh.”

His frown deepened, then he must have put two and two together because his eyes widened and his expression brightened until his smile was like to blind her. “Oh, Rhubarb...” He dipped his head and probably would have kissed her...

If Father Larkin didn’t slap him in the back of his head again. “Wait for the wedding.”

They both gasped and turned to the priest, but he was already circling the desk. “I’m going to get your mothers and I’m leaving the door open, so no funny stuff!”

They watched him go,then they both stared at the open door and the freedom beyond. Would running for their lives count as “funny stuff”?

“What do you say, Rhubarb?”

She didn’t know. She just didn’t know.

“Come on, Rhubarb,” Bobby said, taking her hand and pul ing her toward the door.

Her skidding feet—what the hel were they doing skidding?—slowed him enough to make him turn around, a quizzical expression on his face. Then it cleared to a comforting smile.

“When I marry you, it’s going to be in a dress you like, with al the trimmings girls are supposed to want, most especial y without the priest knowing you aren’t wearing underwear.”

He did have a knack for saying the last thing she could ever expect to hear. Her feet gave up the fight and they were soon barreling out of the rectory, down the hal to the church and were a few feet from the front doors when the last person they expected to play avenging angel stepped out from behind a pil ar and nabbed them.

Madelyn Wontor, her once perfect bun now starting to show some serious wear on the left side with a few crinkling escapees of hair, bore down on them and grabbed their joined hands. “Oh, no you don’t,” she growled, ignoring Bobby’s yipe when she secured her grip on his wrist. “I have been looking for the two of you for over an hour!”

She final y took in Ruth Anne’s bedraggled hair, make-up and dress. Ruth Anne considered it a show of true grit that Madelyn not only didn’t pass out, she actual y reached into her little fanny pack for a comb, mini-hairspray and new lipstick.

“I’m not going to ask. Your mothers wil , but as far as this wedding is concerned, you’re going to look as good as we can make you. We need the wedding toasts from the Best Man and the Maid of Honor. Since you got the dancing started before the food was served, this whole wedding has been completely out of order. We get those toasts done, your siblings can drive off into the sunset and I can go commit suicide before your cousin Louie asks me out on a date again.”

“That would be my cousin Louie,” Bobby murmured, sharing an amused glance over Madelyn’s shoulder with Ruth Anne.

“I don’t care who he’s related to, he’s repel ant,”

Madelyn grumbled, creating a cloud of spray in exuberance. Ruth Anne always thought Louie was cute in a helpless, never-going-to-get-a-job-but-fabulous-in-bed kind of way. He had the Wichowski dark good looks. He even had the same musical talent Bobby had. Louie just had no ambition. Or charm.

“So, once we get the toasts out of the way, we can go?” Ruth Anne asked, stil trying to decide what she wanted to do. It al seemed like a huge mess with too many emotions (and way too much bloodletting) to make any decisions. She just wanted to go home, sink into her bathtub and pretend the whole thing never happened. That would be the smart thing, wouldn’t it?

Bobby shook his head at her, showing his annoying skil of seeming to know what she was thinking exactly when she least wanted him to.

He took hold of her hand and pul ed her from Madelyn’s not so gentle ministrations. “You’l get to fix her at our wedding,” he tossed over his shoulder, pul ing Ruth Anne close to his side. “Don’t start getting ideas, Rhubarb. We’re just getting started, you and I.”

“I’m sorry,” Madelyn said from behind them, sounding breathless. “
Your
wedding?”

Bobby turned to look at her, holding Ruth Anne fast. (How’d he know she was considering running for it?) “You can put it together in a week, can’t you?”

He smiled as Madelyn made a familiar sounding thump on the cathedral carpet.

“God does bad things to people who do bad things in church,” Ruth Anne warned him, though her mouth was smiling without her consent.

“If that’s an invitation, babe, I’m sure we can work something out.”

She elbowed him in the ribs, but it didn’t get her free. Al it got her was bumped back, which forced open the doors to the reception. Where everyone was waiting. Watching. And where Father Larkin was in mid-sentence with their huddled, wide-eyed mothers.

Al eyes turned to them and the party went silent.

There was only one thing left to say, as Bobby took her hand in silent support.

“See?”

“You see a way out of this one?” Bobby asked through lips that didn’t move.

“Uh-uh.” The only thing that moved between them was the tightening of their fingers together.

Ruth Anne watched the mouth on Father Larkin moving, but she couldn’t quite hear anything. Just the sound of Bobby breathing. Her own heartbeat, rambling in her ears, picking up pace like a downhil locomotive. And yet...she could stil hear him breathing. Even, steady, unafraid.

“You realize if we take a single step in that room, you’re going to have to marry me,” she said, turning away from every face that was staring at them, al the confusion, the growing whispers, even the looming thunder on Father Larkin’s face. None of it mattered. Not her mother crossing herself. Not Bobby’s mother’s eyes getting wider and wider and wider. Certainly not her sadistic sister starting to turn purple while Bobby’s brother laughed his head off.

For the first time in her life, she tuned out every person she knew and what they thought. She listened only to the only person she’d worked al her life never to hear.