Calculated Risk (28 page)

“So,” Lucy said, “we will cast our annoying cellphones into this bag, and it will not be opened again until after the reception tonight.” She directed her hand toward the pink pouch. “Ladies, your cellphones, please!”

On cue, Amy lifted her cell high with a two-finger grasp and dropped it into the pouch.

Cisney gaped at the velvet bag, her one-hundred-percent support plummeting like the dial on the gauge of a siphoned gas tank. How would Nick call her? If God nudged her to call Nick on the way to the beauty salon, how would she comply? Stop at the first nearly extinct pay phone she passed?

Amy traveled around the table, collecting the devices.

Lucy lifted her finger as if testing wind direction, her eyes sparkling. “And, the mothers of the bride and groom have agreed to chauffer us to the salon and to the church. We will leave our cars here at the hotel so we won't be tempted to stop en route to borrow a phone or to take care of business, because Angela, serving you is our concern today. We have hearts only for you.”

The women nodded and clapped.

Cisney rotated her head toward Angela. Surely, Ange would roll her eyes and refuse to accept such silliness.

Angela beamed.

Cisney's heart sank. If she spotted the wedding-day bug, whose stinger had injected sappy sentimentality into her feisty friend, she'd squash it with her bare hand.

Amy stood next to Cisney, smiling and extending the now bulging pink sack. Cisney raised her face to Amy's. Which look should she give her—her pleading pout or her defiant scowl? She went with the pout.

Amy pinched her lips and shook the pouch.

Cisney shrugged, offered her fake smile around the table, and produced her cell. But the weight of her phone in her hand awakened second thoughts.

She raised hopeful eyes to Amy. “Maybe I could just step out for a moment and make one short—very short—call. And then my heart is all Angela's.” She looked at Angela, who, under the influence of the wedding-day bug's toxin, seemed to be rethinking her choice for her maid of honor.

Cisney returned her gaze to Amy.

The puffy-faced woman glowered at her and rattled her cache of cellphones. Cisney hesitated, and then dropped her cell into the pink bag.
Lord, I—

The ladies gently cheered.

Even Amy's grimace relaxed, and she patted Cisney's shoulder as if she were a sponsor encouraging an addict who'd made the right choice.

OK. She was back in the good graces of her companions and no longer under their scrutiny. What was going on here?

Lord, wasn't my part to prepare the documents
and
present them to Nick
?
If so, how can I, if I'm cut off from the man?

 

 

 

 

22

 

The day had been full of activity, and Angela had beamed through the ceremony, but Cisney's mind had wandered to Nick non-stop. She'd surveyed the guests in the pews more than once, and when she'd failed to spot Nick, she'd kept watch on the church's entrance, hoping he'd show up at the last minute, but he hadn't.

Now, with the vows, the photo shoot, and the ride to the reception hall over, Cisney sought a moment to herself in the restroom. The clock in the plush room read seven o'clock. By now, Nick would be on the road to Charlotte, his false notions about her rambling around in his head…if he thought of her at all.

Observing her image in the mirror, she fiddled with her dark curls.

Perhaps this day, Angela's day, was not the right time for God to clear up Nick's misconceptions. God would be faithful. He would take care of reuniting them. Or He would lead her in a new direction. Comforting her wounded…totally crushed…heart. That was pathetic. Didn't she know better than to try to sway God's will?
I trust You, Lord.

She shoved the envelopes aside in her bag and located her lipstick. She was beginning to think God had given her the task of creating the documents as a test of her obedience, rather than to actually present them to Nick. He'd probably think her labor of love silly, anyway.

Her lipstick refreshed, she exited the restroom and headed for the ballroom. For now, she had other things to trust God with. Like getting her through the tango with Hunter.

She joined the bridesmaids and groomsmen surrounding Angela and Tom. The emcee, dressed in a blue sequined jacket and black tux slacks, moved to the dance floor, attaching a microphone to his glinting lapel.

Cisney combed the wedding party, seeking her dance partner. Hunter was not among the men in black. In a moment, the emcee would announce the bride and groom's dance.

She leaned toward Tom. “Where's Hunter?”

Tom searched the area. He frowned. “I'll strangle him.”

Cisney placed a calming hand on Tom's arm. “No. Angela won't want to spend her wedding night alone while you're in jail for fratricide.”

Angela sidled to them. “Where's your brother, Tom? It's almost time for the tango.”

Cisney donned a brave smile. “It's all right, you guys. Hunter will be here.” She rose on her tiptoes and scanned the guests. Wouldn't he?

The emcee shared humorous snippets about Angela and Tom, and then the fast-talking announcer chuckled. “Usually, the bride and groom start off the dancing with the groom sashaying his bride around the dance floor for all to behold. But tonight, folks, Angela and Tom have planned a special surprise for you.”

The bridesmaids and groomsmen paired up. Tom led Angela to the center of the dance floor. He shot Cisney an apologetic look. Angela looked at her over his shoulder, emanating sympathy vibes.

Rising above her fear of looking like a jilted lover, a part she played so well, she smiled at her friends and waved off the problem.

The other couples took their positions on the outskirts of the dance floor, leaving a gaping hole where Hunter and Cisney had been choreographed to stand.

Cisney scanned the onlookers for Hunter. Guests nodded toward her, whispered, and searched their ranks, obviously distracted by the maid of honor short her escort.

Please, Lord, send Hunter. Don't allow Hunter and me to ruin this dance for Angela and Tom. Take eyes off me and turn them to the bride and groom.

Her prayer went unanswered. No red-faced Hunter fought his way through the stirred-up spectators.

What should she do? Fill in the open spot on the floor and tango with an imaginary partner? Wait out the dance in the ladies' room?

The first strains of Zade's “Tango” invited the couples to take their stances.

Cisney's heart raced.
Lord, tell me what to do?

Through a break in the crowd, she glimpsed the black coat sleeve of a man progressing toward the dance floor. She let out a heavy sigh. Hunter was on his way. Her heart calmed as she turned and located a vacant spot on the floor. She spun back to Hunter.

Nick!

Nick stood tall and handsome in his black suit. He stood on the sideline of the crowd, one arm extended in her direction, his expression contrite, but expectant.

She inhaled a joyous breath. Everything in her wanted to run into his arms. But this was Angela's moment, not hers. Staying put, she waited for Nick to cover the distance. Or did he not know how to tango?

Nick made no move toward her, yet his gaze beckoned her.

She sidestepped Amy and her dance partner in mid-promenade and glided to Nick, her hot pink dress fluttering against her ankles.

He took her into his open embrace and guided her flawlessly into a gap among the striding couples. An audible sigh of relief oozed from the crowd. Glimpsing Nick's handsome face, Cisney's heart beat like a teen's on a date with the class hunk.

Nick promenaded her between two couples, and then initiated her into a turn. She snapped her head and rotated to face him. Their staccato steps moved in unison.
Slow…slow…quick, quick…slow.

Angela caught Cisney's attention and grinned. She lifted her hand from Tom's shoulder and pointed at his head.

Tom held his bride in a rigid embrace while he walked her through the steps. His gaze remained on his patent leather shoes while his lips mouthed T … A … N, G … O.

Angela rolled her eyes.

Cisney stifled a giggle.

Angela shifted her gaze back to her man.

Cisney made her turn and snapped her head. She tried to maintain the aloof expression that added to the tango's drama, but Nick's presence, God's faithfulness, and the forever-love a wedding promised weakened her resolve. She couldn't stop smiling.

Lord, Your part is awesome!

Nick leaned in close. “Don't look now, but according to people's stares, I think we're upstaging the bride and groom.”

“We should stop.”

Nick aimed for a narrow opening in their audience and promenaded Cisney to the alcove off the lobby, where the restrooms and coatroom were located. He brought her hand to his side and captured her gaze.

If she shifted her eyes away from his, would he disappear as suddenly as he had materialized? Was he one of her fairy-princess dreams?

A waiter exited the men's room, giving them a knowing look. Nick pulled her closer to the unoccupied coatroom, where the lighting shone less bright.

Always pulling her. With the tingles his warm hand sent through her, she'd forgive him this time. “What sent you to my rescue?”

“When I arrived in the parking lot, a young man in a tux was absorbed in tying aluminum cans to Tom's car, while a couple of teenage girls wrote just married and other sentiments on the windows. I wondered if the tango would be performed minus the young groomsman.”

“Why didn't you ask Hunter about his tango duty, or send him inside?”

Nick's sheepish grin, coming from a diehard actuary who strived never to err, gave her goose bumps.

“It's a long story, but I think Hunter's preoccupation was the Lord's second ambush.”

“Ambush?”

He fingered one of her curls. “Do you remember the story where God tells King Jehoshaphat that the battle against the king's enemies is His alone?”

“God's people were only to take up their positions and watch God win the battle.”

“Yep. God set up ambushes against Jehoshaphat's enemies.”

“So, if you had sent Hunter inside you would have ruined God's ambush?”

He nodded.

“You said Hunter in the parking lot was God's second ambush. What was the first?”

“I thought God planned to go to battle for me after I returned from Charlotte, but as usual, it's futile to second guess the Lord. I was a half hour into my trip, when the traffic came to a stop. I sat for fifteen minutes with nothing more than the bumper sticker on the truck in front of me for entertainment.”

“I imagine you were listening to your doo-wop tunes.”

He chuckled. “We need to have a talk about the definition of doo-wop music another time.”

“OK. Back to the bumper sticker.”

“You know the sticker that says, God Allows U-turns?”

“Yes.”

“This sticker said God Expects U-turns. So at my first opportunity, I turned around and headed for home to change into this get-up.” He flicked his lapel. “Then I waited on the fringe of the dance floor, hoping God had won your forgiveness for how coolly I treated you last night.” He took both her hands in his. “Cisney, will you forgive me? I know you looked back at Jason last night, but I don't care—”

“I looked back to make sure he wasn't coming after you to pulverize you.”

“What?”

“On another embarrassing occasion, Jason gave a guy a black eye on my behalf.”

“Oh.”

His glazed-over stare said he was processing all her moves last night with this new information. She waited. For the first time, she was comfortable giving him time to think.

Over the coatroom's half door, she surveyed the coats. Where'd the woman who owned the black and white checkered designer jacket, cinched at the waist with a red patent leather belt, shop?

He cleared his throat.

Her gaze zipped to his.

“I am so sorry, Cisney.”

“I forgive you. But you could have saved me a lot of work last night, if you had allowed me to explain, instead of walking away.”

“What work?”

“I have a bag full of résumés addressed to companies in Charlotte.”

“To prove you would leave Jason?” He moved closer. “You don't have to leave your job or your parents. I don't mind making weekend trips.”

Her smile took an elevator from her heart to her lips. “Some physical distance from Daddy might be a good idea.”

“Look.” He stepped back and reached into his suit coat pocket.

He held up a ring.

Cisney's heart stopped.

Nick's hand lay in the shadows of the alcove's poor lighting. She shifted her shoulder to allow the ceiling light behind her to illumine the ring.

Where a gem might sit on the wide gold band—split on the underside, so one size could fit all—was a round plastic disk. Etched in the disk's gold center was a symbol for the planet. Five circles lined the top arc of the disk. She made out what looked like a leaf inside one circle and three lightning bolts in a second. The other symbols were lost on her. Embossed in capital letters under the world emblem was: Captain Planet.

Her virtual romantic-memories scrapbook snapped shut. She raised her gaze to his.

His eyes were wide with excitement. “When I was eight years old, I esteemed Captain Planet more than anyone. Who wouldn't? Captain Planet did everything to save the earth. Because of him, I wanted to grow up to be a scientist in the EPA.”

“Was this before or after you planned to raise Siberian Huskies?”

He captured her chin between his thumb and finger. “This is a serious moment, Cisney.”

She snapped her satin heels together and brought her shoulders to attention. Maybe this moment could still end up in her scrapbook memory.