Double Wedding Ring (23 page)

S
USAN GAVE HERSELF
to the spirit of Christmas the next morning, vowing she wouldn't dwell on the way her heart had broken when she heard Tag leaving in the middle of the night. Until that moment, she hadn't realized that a part of her had clung to the hope that when he showed up for the wedding this afternoon, she could set things right.

That was not to be her Christmas gift, it seemed. But she made up her mind not to brood over it. Today would be joyous, regardless.

She smiled through the delighted squeals of Cody and her brother Steve's young grandchildren. She focused on the rich sound of foil paper crumpling in the center of the room and the smell of cinnamon-spiced cider. She gave and received hugs and tried to remember that love was the best gift of all, even if it didn't come from the person at the top of the list you'd sent to the North Pole.

At last the gift-giving was over and the holiday brunch devoured, and everyone dashed off to dress for the wedding. Susan relaxed, let go of her smile.

Betsy's sharp voice cut into the quiet. “There isn't time to sit around and daydream.”

“I know.”

As she watched her mother scoot around the room filling a garbage bag with torn paper and curling ribbon and smashed bows, she tried to understand what Betsy had done to the lives of everyone around her. She doubted she would, because she doubted Betsy knew herself.

“You know you're going to be slow, Susan,” her mother prodded one more time.

The one thing Susan did understand, though, was that she had two choices when it came to her mother. She could either forgive her, or she could let resentment poison the rest of her life. And she'd wasted too much time already to be wasting any more.

“I'm going back to Atlanta, Mother. As soon as the holidays are over.”

Betsy straightened, a trail of red-and-green ribbon in her fist. “Don't be ridiculous. You're in no condition to take care of yourself and you know it.”

“Yes, I am,” Susan said. “Plenty do, and so can I.”

“I won't allow it.”

Susan rolled toward her mother. “It isn't your choice, Mother.”

Then she reached for the hand that had slowly dropped the ribbon as Susan's announcement sank in. Susan took it between her own and squeezed. The first step toward healing, she hoped.

“I'll be fine,” she said. “It isn't that I don't love you. It's just time, that's all. Time I got on with my life.”

* * *

T
HE STRANGER IN TOWN
sat a block from the church in a car with North Carolina plates, watching intently as the wedding guests trooped in.

She grew impatient. She saw the slight strawberry blonde and the handsome dark-haired man, with a brood of a half-dozen children, none of whom looked alike. She saw the strikingly lovely woman with gleaming mahogany skin, accompanied by a lanky fair-haired man and two beautiful children, but where was the family she was waiting for?

She began to fidget, first with the mother-of-pearl buttons on her crimson silk blouse. She patted her platinum hair and checked her makeup in the rearview mirror. She looked perfect, except for the red tracks through the whites of her eyes.

She needed more sleep. She'd had too much to think about to rest easy lately. But that would change. Soon.

They came on foot and she felt certain her heart had stopped.

A wiry old man with flyaway white hair led the way, holding a little boy by the hand. Then Ben, who looked more distinguished and more attractive with every year that passed, damn him. Then the auburn-haired woman he had married. She barely noticed Rose because walking beside Ben's new wife was the reason Cybil Richert McKenzie had come to town in the first place.

Krissy.

“Baby,” Cybil whispered as the little dark-haired girl skipped along beside the woman. She hadn't seen Krissy since summer and already the girl had grown. Long-legged and lean-limbed, her shining hair touching her shoulders, Krissy was her father's daughter in every way.

Pain twisted at Cybil's stomach as she watched the little girl who had told her last summer she didn't want to stay in North Carolina.

“I want to go home,” Krissy had said, and Cybil had been unable to persuade the six-year-old that North Carolina
was
home.

Once again pain clutched Cybil's heart as Krissy tugged on her stepmother's sleeve, then stood on her tiptoes to give the woman a kiss. Cybil told herself there was no need to hate Rose Finley McKenzie, but that line of persuasion was wearing thin.

If not for Rose, her ex-husband would never have stayed here, would never have dragged her daughter hundreds of miles from home.

But Cybil knew she could set things right. She had thought about it long and hard while nursing bottle after bottle of gin. Soon, Krissy would be hers again.

* * *

“D
EARLY BELOVED...
“

Susan couldn't be sure what other mothers thought about when they watched their daughters walk down the aisle and take the hand of the man who vowed to love them forever. She only knew she was having trouble keeping her mind on the words of the ceremony.

She kept remembering all the ways in which Malorie had brightened her own life with her unique outlook, her impish humor, her warm heart.

“I promise to do my best to be a good partner,” Malorie was saying now, the first line in the vows she and Sam had written together, “supporting you in all you try to accomplish in life.”

Susan remembered seeing her daughter through periods of overalls hand-painted with life-size sunflowers; hiking boots with flirty little miniskirts; a fringed cowgirl skirt in elementary school when everyone else was wearing the uniform of jeans and T-shirts. Today, Malorie had walked down the aisle on Bump Finley's arm wearing a crocheted lace dress with drop waist and uneven hem, something a very elegant flapper might have worn in 1926. Susan smiled.

“I will do my best to make the hard times we will encounter easier, using the understanding and patience I've learned from you,” Malorie continued.

“I promise to keep learning all the goodness you have to share with me,” Malorie said, “and to share with you what goodness I have to give.”

Susan remembered the gap-toothed smile Malorie had hated so much when class-picture time rolled around in the second grade. She remembered the adolescent agonies of prom night and the very real grown-up agonies of unexpected pregnancy.

And she remembered the courage with which Malorie had faced the small congregation of friends and family as she told them the truth about Cody right before the ceremony began. The secret had drawn a few muffled gasps, but Malorie had held her head high.

“And I promise you a love that grows stronger through the years,” Malorie said, slipping a ring onto Sam's finger.

Susan didn't cry, but tears were close to the surface. Tears of joy as well as her own tears of loss. When she had already lost so much, how could she have been foolish enough to throw away so much promise?

“Ladies and gentlemen,” intoned the minister, “I give you Mr. and Mrs. Sam Roberts.”

Malorie and Sam faced the small group of assembled guests, Malorie's face aglow, Sam's serene as usual.

From Susan's lap, Cody clapped his hands and said, loud enough for everyone to hear, “New mommy
and
new daddy!”

Everyone laughed, except Betsy, and Susan felt her heart go out to the woman who had visited so much misery on others. That misery had finally come home to nest, it seemed to Susan.

Because of the holiday, Malorie and Sam had planned a brief ceremony and even briefer reception so the small circle of invited guests could get back to their family celebrations. They had decided to dispense with many of the traditions, but Malorie had refused to forgo the tossing of the bouquet. She had arranged to throw it immediately after the vows.

So while Sam and Malorie stood at the altar, Rose McKenzie, by prior arrangement, stood and said, “Okay, all you unmarried women out there, step up and take your chances.”

Most of the females who rushed to the front were teens; there were even a couple of preadolescent girls. It was all in fun, of course, but as Susan watched them head for the front, she was suddenly filled with longing.

She wanted that bouquet. She felt it would be symbolic of the fact that she had decided she wouldn't be cheated out of life a second time. She rolled forward, vowing to herself that whatever it took, she would find Tag. She would track him down in whatever one-horse town had a Saturday-afternoon motorcycle race. She would make it up to him.

She caught her daughter's eye and knew from the twinkle there that this was exactly what Malorie had in mind. Susan watched the bouquet leave her daughter's hand, saw it arcing in her direction. As it came toward her, one of the giggling preteens stepped in front of Susan's chair to grab the prize.

Swallowing a gasp of disappointment, Susan watched the moment being snatched away. Then, at the last moment, another hand reached out from behind Susan, over the head of the young girl. Susan looked over her shoulder.

Betsy stood there with the bouquet of white rosebuds in her hand, holding it out to her daughter.

With tears in her eyes, Susan accepted the beautiful peace offering. She barely noted the teasing crowd that gathered around Betsy, or the way Bump Finley conspicuously backed away from his one-time sweetheart. Susan's attention was on the bouquet in her lap and the promise it seemed to express.

She had been given a second chance.

As the crowd began to drift toward the Fellowship Hall, Susan looked up and saw Tag sitting in the back row. He looked out of place and uncomfortable in a gray pinstripe suit, his hair trimmed and combed.

One thing hadn't changed. The look he leveled at Susan—a look of love and longing that fed the emptiness in her heart.

Her legs trembling with the effort, Susan put her bouquet on the nearby pew and pulled herself out of her chair. She took one step toward Tag, then another before Tag was down the aisle, sweeping her into his arms.

“I'm sorry,” she whispered, although the sanctuary was empty now, except for the two of them.

“Me, too. I was stubborn. As usual.”

“If you don't mind that I'm not perfect, I don't know why I should mind.”

“You are perfect. For me.”

“I don't want to slow you down,” she said.

“I want to slow down,” he said. “I sold the bike this morning. I don't ever want to break a bone or throw out a shoulder in another race or stunt as long as I live.”

“You don't?”

“No. I want to live a nice, quiet life right here in Sweetbranch, in a little brick house on Mimosa Lane.”

“It might get dull.”

“Haven't you heard? I'll be a ready-made grandfather. And I'll live across the street from a meddling mother-in-law. How dull could it get?”

“Dull enough to send you looking for something better.”

He laughed softly. “I've been looking for something half my life. How could I be fool enough to go looking for something better now that I've got what I wanted all along? Oh, no, Susie. This is as good as it gets.”

He set her down in the chair and put the bouquet back in her lap. “Now, let's go. I think I need a little practice eating wedding cake.”

And Susan knew that the treasure of first love was hers—again—to keep.

ISBN: 978-1-4592-8605-4

Double Wedding Ring

Copyright © 1995 by Peg Robarchek

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