Lights and Shadows (Oregon In Love) (31 page)

In the days that followed, Julia began planning her
wedding in a brisk and organized manner. After discussing the options
with Marc and his pastor and finding out what days were available,
they decided to have a candlelight service and reception at the
Portland church on a Friday night. She found a silk gown the color of
champagne which would complement her thirty-something status. Next,
she chose a black Ralph Lauren tux for Marc. A string quartet was
hired and an abundant profusion of flowers ordered.

Julia toyed with the idea of keeping the ever-growing
expense of the wedding from Marc, especially when the short notice
sent the prices higher. She’d saved and invested over the years and
could well afford to pay for everything. She’d have to tell him in
a way that wouldn’t assault his tender male ego.

But beneath the preparations, she sensed a growing
anxiety. Julia had no intention of redeeming a failed wedding, yet
old fears and memories rose up to plague her hard-fought peace.

***

A few evenings later at his apartment, Marc listened
with half an ear while Julia rattled off her plans for his career
which, among other things, included four-color brochures and an
interactive website.
She may get me on a talk show yet
.

He focused instead on savoring the warmth of her small
frame nestled against his side. He rested his cheek on her head and
closed his eyes, so grateful to the Lord for untangling the mess he’d
made with her. He just hoped he lived up to her expectations.

Marc let Julia have the final say in all the wedding
arrangements, figuring this would be her last big spending spree for
a while. Arguing about the wedding was hardly the best way to start
married life. He trusted her judgment in whatever way she wielded his
checkbook and had to smile at how she carefully refrained from
mentioning any of the cost. While he wasn’t exactly poor, things
would be tight for a while. Somehow it would all work out. In the
meantime, he’d avoid looking at his bank balance.

***

“
A couple of letters came for you.”

Julia looked up from her guest invitation list the next
day. Sara sat down opposite of her at the table and handed her the
envelopes.

Opening the first, Julia quickly scanned the letter.
With hard, bright eyes, she said, “This is from my mother informing
me she and Gregory regretfully will be unable to attend my wedding.
But,” she held up a check, “she sends a guilt offering.”

Sara smiled sympathetically. “I’m sorry, Julia. She
didn’t come to our wedding either. In fact, I’ve never even met
her.”

Julia shrugged, regaining her composure. “Oh well, now
I can get that gown without feeling so greedy. I found a store in
Portland that has my size.” She folded the check and tucked it into
a pocket of her appointment book.

Picking up the next letter she said, “Now, let’s see
what my dad has to say. If he’s not coming, I could turn violent.”

Sara giggled. “Since he’s going to give you away at
the ceremony, I’m assuming he’ll be here.”

A rectangle piece of paper dropped out of the folds of
the letter. Julia picked it up and swallowed a lump in her throat.
“He sent a check, too,” she said in a quavering voice. “It’s
enough to cover the entire wedding.”

Sara reached over and touched Julia’s hand. “That’s
wonderful.”

Discreetly wiping her eyes, she said, “It’s odd how
my parents both sent me the same thing, but one is meaningful and the
other seems cold.”

With a shaky laugh, Julia unfolded the letter and began
to read. “Listen to this! My dad has a beach cabin in Carmel that’s
vacant right now and he says we can stay there for our honeymoon if
we like.”

“
Has Marc mentioned any plans for the honeymoon yet?”

Julia shook her head and grew wistful. “But I know he
would love Carmel-By-The-Sea. It’s so beautiful, so picturesque.
Maybe I could sell him on the idea by telling him of the photographic
potential and how it could round out his portfolio.”

Smiling, Sara said wryly, “Just tell him where you’ll
be after the wedding and I can guarantee, he’ll follow.”

Julia laughed, but her stomach still clenched as she
thought of what had occurred with Kevin.

This time it would be different. It just had to be.

The day of the wedding dawned clear and bright, typical
June weather. Sara was banging on the cottage door even before Julia
was out of bed. The night before, after an evening rehearsal, they’d
all gone out to a Portland restaurant and stayed out way too late.

Julia struggled out of bed and opened the door. Sara
stood in the doorway with Alan on her hip.

“
How can you sleep!” she exclaimed. “There’s a
million things to do.”

Pushing her hair out of her face, Julia said, “Not
really. The church wedding coordinator is taking care of all the
last-minute details. All we need to do is show up.”

“
Oh, how can you be so calm? I was a mess on my
wedding day!” Sara took a deep breath. “Okay, I’ll leave you
alone. But if you need anything, I’ll be wringing my hands over at
the house.”

Julia gave her a groggy smile as Sara headed back to the
B & B. Once she was out of sight, Julia crawled back into bed and
collapsed against the pillows. Before Sara came, she’d been laying
there worrying, analyzing, obsessing.

The niggling fears and doubts she’d tried to ignore
over the last weeks surged forth with new intensity. Her head hurt,
her hands were like ice, and her heart beat like butterfly wings.

She was scared stiff.

All the ‘what ifs’ pummeled her mind. Knowledge of
her failure at one marriage seared her with the possibility she could
fail again. Was Marc lying in his bed having second thoughts? Was he
wondering how to extricate himself from this mess? Her lurid
imagination held her hostage.

Julia lurched off the bed and went into the bathroom. In
the sink, she splashed cold water on her face, hoping the feeling of
nausea would pass.
I will not throw up on my wedding day!
Raw
indignation flooded through her at the thought, bolstering her enough
to get dressed and go over to the main house.

In the kitchen, Brian poured her a cup of coffee and
after nearly draining the cup, she tossed back the last little bit
like a shot of whiskey. He raised his brows at the action.

Ignoring him, she made several phone calls to be sure
all was in readiness. Ready for what? Julia had no doubt the ceremony
would go off without a hitch. But what about real life? She was so
jittery, her handwriting on her list of things to do became
illegible, especially with her brother’s concerned attention upon
her.
Get a grip
.

The doorbell rang, causing the pen to fall from her
fingers. Marc had arrived to call the whole thing off. She just might
throw up after all. Rigid with fear, Julia let Sara go answer the
door, tensing even more when she heard a masculine voice.

Moments later, Sara returned to the kitchen with a large
bouquet of red roses. Swallowing, Julia accepted the flowers and
buried her nose in the velvety soft petals. As she opened the
attached card, she prayed this wasn’t a goodbye note.

Julia, just a note to remind you I love you and that
I’m counting the moments until we’re man and wife
.
Marc
.

For the first time that day, a genuine smile graced her
lips. Julia plucked out one of the buds and threaded the stem through
a buttonhole at the top of her blouse. Perhaps the fragrance would
keep her worrisome thoughts at bay.

Shortly before it was time to leave for Portland, Julia
took a hot bubble bath at the main house. After she was washed,
perfumed, and polished, she emerged from Sara’s bathroom, dressed
and ready to go.

The drive passed quickly. Sara and her Aunt Hattie
chattered excitedly while Julia remained for the most part, silent.
At the church, she saw Marc’s Toyota and a measure of her angst
receded. At least he was there. Now to just make sure he hung around
for the rest of her life. Not like—

She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing her feet to follow
Sara and Hattie into the church.

From the dressing room, Julia could hear the quartet
tuning their instruments. Sara helped her into the dress, reminiscent
of a forties ball gown, with a sweetheart neckline and short, capped
sleeves. The satiny material clung in all the right places and
tapered down to a floor-length skirt. Julia put on a matching
bracelet, necklace, and earring set. They resembled tiny silver stars
floating on her skin. Her strappy heels were encrusted with
rhinestones. Sara touched up her hair, which was swept up in an
elegant twist, topped by loose curls. Outwardly, everything was
perfect.

Julia caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror
and was alarmed at the ghostly whiteness of her skin, the worry in
her eyes.
I thought I was over this.

Marc is not Kevin.

Lightning doesn't strike the same place twice.

She closed her eyes
briefly, drawing in a ragged breath
. And cliches are never
comforting
.

“
Are you all right?” Sara asked, taking her hand.
“My goodness! You’re shaking like a leaf! Come over to the sofa
and sit down.”

When Julia was seated, she put her head in her hands.
God, please calm my fears. Please help me remember You are at the
center of this
.

“
Would something warm to drink help?”

Julia nodded, thinking a few minutes of solitude would
be even better. She forced herself to be logical. Kevin had drug
problems. He'd disappeared on her a couple of times before the
ceremony. Neither of them had the realistic expectations of married
life.

None
of these things applied to Marc. Not even
close. He'd gone above and beyond to make her feel secure.

So why am I falling apart?

Julia heard the door open behind her and got to her
feet. “That was quick.” She turned around, but further words died
on her lips.

Marc leaned against the door, locking it behind him. In
spite of her shock, she admired the way he looked in his black tux
with black silk lapels. The snowy whiteness of his shirt contrasted
with his olive skin tone. What she noticed most of all was the look
in his eyes as he walked over to where she stood.

“
Brian suggested I pop in to say hi,” he said with a
bemused smile.

“
He did?”

“
Yeah.” He regarded her. “How are you?”

Julia bit her lip, despising the sting of tears.
“Terrified,” she whispered.

Marc drew her into his arms, kissing her with such
aching tenderness, a few tears escaped her guard. His hands moved to
her hair, and the hairstyle which took a full half hour to perfect
tumbled down around her shoulders. Her worries and anxieties went
swirling away under the possessive pressure of his lips.

Hearing approaching voices in the hall, Marc released
her. And with a meaningful look, slipped through the door. Julia sank
onto the sofa, no longer trusting her legs to hold her upright.
Several minutes later, Sara returned with a steaming cup of tea. When
she saw Julia’s state, the cup rattled noisily as she set it on a
nearby table. “What in the world happened to you?”

Julia peered in the mirror. Her hair was a mess, her
eyeliner smeared, and her lipstick, non-existent.

***

As the pastor introduced them as Mr. and Mrs. Marc
Dorin, Julia felt a sliver of tension mount. The ceremony had gone
well, not that she’d heard much of it. Her attention had remained
fastened on her groom throughout. She wondered if Marc noticed she’d
placed some of his roses in her hastily-repaired coiffure.

Descending the steps to walk back down the aisle, Julia
tightened her grip on his arm. She'd make sure he didn't leave her
sight. Slowly, the church and guests came into focus and her smile
felt more natural. She recognized his friends from Maupin. And
Spencer had made it. He sent her a supportive smile. Toward the back
of the sanctuary, she noticed a young woman she’d never seen
before. The girl had a very self-satisfied expression on her face.

Glad for a distraction from her grim thoughts, Julia
said in an undertone, “Marc, who is that girl over there with the
pink hair? Do you know her?”

He stumbled slightly when he saw the girl and his
expression darkened. “A wedding crasher.”

Confused by his reply, Julia looked at her with more
interest as they passed her pew.

The young woman waggled her fingers at Marc and gave him
a saucy wink. “My advice worked, eh, Mr. Dorin?”

As they exited the sanctuary through the double doors,
Julia suddenly twisted her head around for another look back at the
girl. The pink hair brought to mind a half-formed memory. And her
lips were a bright purple—a garish color she’d seen only once
before. The memory coalesced in her mind.

She peeked up at her husband. “Is there something you
want to tell me about that particular person?”