Here to Stay (28 page)

“That time I came back here with Daisy and you were stuck on the roof,” Erik said. “You knocked the ladder over on purpose, didn’t you? To make me feel better about my screw up.”

Joe smiled. “I wanted to level the playing field.”

Erik reached for one of his lapels and turned it out a little. Pinned to the inside was a Purple Heart. Joe had earned it in Vietnam and given it to Erik after the shooting.

“It’s what you do,” Erik said.

Joe’s hand patted Erik’s cheek. Tugged his earlobe. “It is, mon pote,” he said. “Now go find your bride.”

Erik stepped outside, his eyes squinting into the late sun, his heart starting to pound strong beneath his shirt studs.

He crossed the gravel drive toward the house. He heard the soft whirring click of a camera shutter but didn’t look around to see where it came from. His eyes were only on the porch. He was two steps up the flagstone path between the garden beds when the front door opened. He stopped. Stood surrounded by wild flowers and dragonflies. He waited, drawing in his breath.

Daisy came out.

The breath caught tight in Erik’s lungs.

She came down the steps, a bit of her skirt in her hand, a bouquet of daisies in the other.

“Well, here you are,” she said.

The air chugged out of Erik’s chest as his mouth began to curve up.

“Here I am,” he said.

Her dress was slim and simple. Her shoulders gorgeous in its halter top. Her hair pulled back in a low bun and from it flowed her veil, tumbling like froth over the clean lines of her skirt. As she came along the path through the flowers, her smile was trembling and her eyes shone a blue-green shade he’d never seen before.

Erik’s gaze blurred. His feet took him forward to close the gap, his arms reaching. Her arm and its bouquet went around his shoulders. Her other hand wrapped her veil around them. He picked her up, turning in a slow circle until the veil wrapped itself around their legs as well.

“Will you marry me,” he whispered.

She nodded against his neck. “Today.”

The photographer caught it beautifully, and the picture of them wound up in white against a bright tapestry of wildflowers would forever hang over the fireplace at Barbegazi.

Cool cross-breezes blew through the big barn, yet within it was warm with love and music. At the center of every table was a round sphere vase filled with daisies. A bit of raffia wound around the rim, off which hung a fish cut out of tin.

The band wound up its first set, and as guests drifted back to their tables, Will went up to the lead singer and took the microphone. Through the humming din came a single clink of a fork against a glass. Followed by another. It swelled into a tinkling chorus and broke apart when Erik and Daisy kissed.

“Good evening,” Will said. A squeal of feedback and scattered laughter as Jacy began crawling across the empty dance floor, showing her ruffled butt. She stopped at her father’s feet and held up her arms. More laughter as she shook her head at Lucky’s beckoning. Will picked her up and tried to negotiate the mic, his notes and his champagne glass. “Oh screw it,” he said, and tossed the notes aside. “Welcome to life. I’ll improvise.”

Loud applause. Jacy clapped her hands and blew kisses.

“Most everyone knows I had a front row seat when Daisy and Erik were falling in love,” Will said. “People would always ask me… When Dais and I partnered onstage, people would ask, ‘What are you thinking up there with her? I mean, do you secretly love her? Do you have a story going in your head? What is that chemistry, what’s behind it, what’s the secret?’

“And… First of all, anyone who knows me, knows I don’t keep love a secret. Second, I only know two men in the world who love Dais more than I do. One’s her father and—”

Applause cut him off. Daisy stood up, touched her fingers to her mouth and then flung them out to Joe. Joe caught the air with both fists and pulled them to his heart.

“And the other man,” Will said. “The other is her husband over there.”

Louder applause. Erik stood up and planted one on his bride and the applause turned to shouting.

“It’s so nice I have to say it twice. Her husband. And… What, honey?” Jacy was taking Will’s face and turning it firmly to her so she could kiss him.

More laughter as Will hitched Jacy higher on his shoulder. “So the short answer to all those questions about my partnership with Daisy is indeed love. But love is also the longer answer. Because Erik…”

His voice trailed off and the barn grew quiet and still. “Erik’s my best friend,” he said. “We throw those words around casually. Oh, sure, you’re my best friend. But what does it mean? To me, it’s the friend who makes you your best. Who makes the best come out in you. Dais made me the best dancer I could be, Erik made me the best man I could be. See what I did there?”

The laughter was soft. All around the tables people reached for hands, drew children onto laps, and looked smiling at each other. Jacy laid her head on Will’s shoulder.

“When your best friends are in love, it becomes inspiration. And while everyone knows I had a front row seat when Dais and Erik were falling in love, not many people know I took everything I saw and put it into my dancing. Our best performances together were from me being not a partner, but a mirror.” Will looked around, chewing on a bottom lip. “And now you’re all looking at me like I’m nuts. Oh, wait, you’re crying? Francine, you’re crying. That’s good.”

Francine waved her hands, covered her tear-stained face, then lifted it out and blew Will a kiss. Jacy blew one back.

“I’ll wrap this up,” Will said, laughing. “Love can bring out the best and worst in us. We’ve all been a jackass for love. But love makes us do amazing things. And if love drives us away, love is what brings us back. Love makes us pick up the phone. Love makes us listen. Love makes us say I’m sorry. Love makes us forgive. Love makes us better. Love makes us our best. And love makes more love...and…I forgot where I was going with this. Forget it. I’ll be in the corner making love, with a front row seat to Daisy and Erik. Raise your glass. I lost my glass. Waiter?”

A new flute was rushed into his hand. “Raise your glass,” Will said, meeting Erik’s eyes. “And toast to my best friends. To the union of fishes and daisies. To love.”

Glasses in hands rose up, a cloud of twinkling golden balloons. “To love.”

After the reception, they rode from the barn to the carriage house on a tandem bicycle. Daisy skillfully tucked up her dress’s long skirt, revealing white Converse sneakers. A sign lettered JUST (STYLISHLY) MARRIED was tacked to the rear seat. With a ring of the bike’s bell they were off, the guests lining the road on either side, sparklers in hand and singing “Daisy Bell.” The picture the photographer caught would live on top of the upright piano at Barbegazi.

“Hello, wife,” Erik said as they braked to a stop.

“Hello, husband.”

He got off and held the bike still while she dismounted, then leaned it up against the carriage house wall. He pulled her into his arms and they kissed. His hands ran down her back, along the length of smooth satin. Then a little further and they stopped.

“What are you wearing under here?”

“Not a damn thing,” she said, running her finger along his bottom lip.

“Really?”

She tossed her head back a little. “Never wear panties to a party. Have I taught you nothing?”

He looked back at the people lining the road, the last sparklers fizzing out. “Is everyone going home now?”

“Everyone? No,” she said. “Private after-party on the porch. Panties optional.”

He looked back at her, ran his hand along her cheek. “Did I tell you that you look beautiful?”

She blinked at him and her smile turned down a little. “Not in the last five minutes.”

He slid his hand around the back of her neck. “You look beautiful,” he whispered against her mouth. He kissed her. Kissed her again. Slower. Her mouth opened to his. Her hands came up to his face. Happiness pulled his chest apart and started stirring things below the belt.

“Get a room,” someone bellowed from up the road.

“I’d love to,” Erik muttered.

“You will,” she said, taking his hand and starting toward the house. “All night long. Or for the rest of your life, whichever comes first.”

“You come first,” he said, bringing the back of her ringed fingers up to his lips.

Will sent one last text:
Cock ring is a little too snug. Next time get me the extra-large.

Erik replied.
Sorry. I got myself the extra-large and figured you were one size down.

Fuck you.

Can’t, I’m married. But thanks for asking.

Don’t call me.

Believe me, tonight? I won’t.

“YOU LIKE BEETS?” Francine said, smiling.

Erik shrugged a shoulder and made one corner of his mouth smile back. He didn’t outright hate beets, but they weren’t what he’d go for on the buffet line. Still, he’d learned long ago Francine treated picky eaters over the age of five as a personal challenge. Saying you didn’t like something was a surefire way to find a boatload of it on your plate later.

“I like anything you make,” he said. Which was the truth. Francine could make a bundle of sticks taste good. With unfeigned interest, Erik watched her nature-dyed fingers generously salt and pepper the glistening chunks of red and golden beets.