Better Unwed Than Dead (2 page)

“I’m not saying I think you’re developing
Alzheimer’s, but hell, I think there’s something odd about you
believing so strongly in hocus pocus that you’ll let it affect our
life this way.”

“Well shit, I didn’t know you found me so
odd!” Now she was the one with arms crossed. “You know, if this
thing about the dress bothers you so much, makes you think I’m
‘odd’, I don’t know why you want to marry me so much anyhow. You
should have no problem finding another woman to marry you and raise
a brood of non-bastards.”

“I don’t want another women, I want you. I’m
not saying you’re odd or becoming ill. I’m just saying that maybe
you should step back and consider this objectively. Your mom fed
you this bullshit from the cradle. It’s my opinion that she
couldn’t help believing it because of her disease, but whoever said
you have to believe so fully? ”

“Because the risks, Nick! I couldn’t stand
losing you, I—”

“I know, I know.” He resumed his place on one
knee and slipped the ring onto her finger. "All I’m asking right
now is that you wear this for me, and try to spend a little time
thinking rationally about all this. I would be crazy to indulge
your fears when I want so badly for us to be more than common law."
He kissed her hard, furiously.

Even after a year, his kiss still sent her
head spinning and pulse racing. When he released her, Julia took a
calming breath and looked at the ring, marveling at how incredibly
right it felt there on her hand. Nick seemed so determined, and she
had no more will to argue. What harm could come from a perpetual
engagement? After all, it was such a pretty ring, meant for wearing
and enjoying.

She tried doing as he wanted—stepping back
and objectively viewing the curse she was raised on the way other
girls were raised on Cinderella and Snow White. Yes, she supposed
it sounded ridiculous, and if she were the one on the other side of
the proposal, she’d think she was crazy, too. For a moment she
pictured herself in a brand new wedding gown, sewn just for her. If
she could, she’d choose something strapless and streamlined. She
imagined walking down the aisle to Nick. The visualization felt
good, and for a moment she felt a soaring joy. And then she
remembered the yellowed newspaper clippings detailing the Lake Erie
salt mine collapse that had claimed her father’s life just two
weeks before her birth. She imagined what sort of newspaper
clipping would detail Nick’s untimely death, and slammed the door
on the line of thought before panic took hold. Julia made up her
mind. She would just refuse to ever set a date, thereby keeping the
Nick alive and in her arms.

WHEN Julia awoke the next morning she found
herself alone in bed, though she was usually the first one up.
Slipping through the house, following the scent of freshly brewed
coffee, she found Nick in his study hunched over the computer, brow
furrowed with concentration. “What are you doing?”

Nick glanced up. "Huh? Oh, it’s nothing, just
a research project. Maybe something I'll use for a lesson plan next
year."

Julia accepted that readily, not noticing
when Nick tilted the monitor away from her. He was always looking
for new ways to freshen up his classroom. She showered and dressed
in the comfortable khaki slacks, white blouse and tennis shoes she
always wore to the shop and then headed out the door, leaving Nick
to his project.

An hour later the telephone rang in her shop.
Julia stepped away from the shelves of Great Lakes themed ceramics
she'd been dusting and picked up the phone. "Peninsula Gifts, how
can I help you?"

"Hon, where's the picture of your grandma in
the wedding dress?"

"It's in the blue photo album on the shelf in
the hall closet. Why?"

"Just wanted to have a look at it...I have to
go. Love you."

Julia looked at the receiver and frowned. She
didn't know what Nick was up to, but it couldn't be good. Three
hours later he breezed into the shop and strode up to the counter
with a steely-eyed determination that had the few customers milling
around eyeing him warily. Julia saw one alarmed woman duck around
the corner and reach for her cell phone, no doubt expecting a hold
up.

"Julia, I'm leaving."

The woman relaxed but then shot Julia an
embarrassed, sympathetic smile and shuffled out the door, not
wanting to witness an awkward breakup scene.

"Leaving?" Hearing, but not believing it, she
refused to meet Nick's eyes and instead focused on rolling a
porcelain seagull ornament in bubble wrap.

"Not you, Marblehead."

Now she was really confused, but at least the
floor was back under her feet. "Marblehead? You're not going to
leave me, but you won't live with me or in the same town with me
anymore?"

Nick exhaled and leaned across the counter,
tenderly tucking Julia’s hair behind her ear. "I know how important
that dress is to you. I think it's ridiculous that you won't marry
me--"

"Or anyone."

"Yeah, okay, or anyone, in anything but that
dress and I think a therapist could help you over your
superstition, but--"

"It's not a superstition!" Julia snapped,
stepping away from his caressing hand and then looking around the
shop as her last remaining customer shooed a toddler out the door.
She took a deep breath and said calmly, "Look at what happened to
my great-grandfather. Grandma never even met the man. He was dead
before she was born. Just like with me with my dad."

"How did the earlier deaths even get
associated with that dress?"

"They, I...well, it's detailed in a family
diary. I don't know exactly. I think mom packed it away somewhere.
In might be in her trunk at the nursing home."

"You see? You don't even have a basis for
your fears, or your mother’s. You've let this hysteria run away
with your imagination."

Julia bit her lip with indecision, wondering
if perhaps what he was saying was true. But if it wasn’t, the
consequences, oh my... "It's too big of a risk." Even as she said
it, she couldn’t help but admire the ring on her finger. "I'm
sorry, Nick. I know that maybe, just maybe, the curse really is a
sham. But maybe it isn't. It's not a gamble I'm willing to take.
I'm not going to risk your life. No amount of therapy will make me
feel otherwise. The dress—the curse supposedly on it—is just
something I've had ingrained in me since childhood."

"Then I'm leaving."

"Oh!" Julia looked up, startled. She'd
forgotten he said that. "What exactly do you mean?"

He retrieved from his pocket a sheet of paper
with notes jotted in his chicken scratch. She always pitied the
students who had to decipher his writing on the chalkboard.

"This morning I compiled a list of antique
clothing shops for the whole area and after you left for work I
started making calls. Though she says she knows nothing about the
theft, a lady in Sandusky recalled buying a gown similar to what I
described. She remembers it because of its exquisite condition and
because she sold it to a friend, another antique dealer in
Detroit."

When Julia's eyes lit up he quickly
continued. "Now this may be a lost cause, honey, but she said
she’ll look at a photo of the dress and if it looks like what she
sold to her friend, she'll put me in touch with that person. I'm
going over there right now, and if it's a match, I want to leave
for Detroit immediately."

Julia was stunned. Nick was going to try to
track down the stolen dress for her! She knew he loved her, but
hadn't known his affection ran that deep. "I, wh...I want to go
with you!"

"The shop--"

"I'll close the shop for a few days."

"Julia, no," He wrapped his hand around her
head and pulled her in for a quick kiss. "You can't close shop when
tourist season is just getting underway. And anyhow, I don't know
how long I'll be gone. The dress might not be in Detroit now, if
it's even the same gown. It might not be. This could be wild goose
chase."

Julia could see Nick’s apprehension. "I won't
get my hopes up. But thank you for even trying. I don't even know
what to say, other than you're wonderful. I don't even deserve
you."

Nick smiled and kissed her again. "I usually
think I'm the one who's undeserving of you. I'll try my best to
find the dress."

LATE the next morning Nick entered Angela’s
Antiques in downtown Detroit, where the sales clerk led him to the
office of Angela herself. The attractive, red headed woman—a cougar
if he’d ever seen one—seated behind the enormous wooden desk nodded
her head when she looked over photo of the wedding gown Nick
produced.

"Yes, I had this gown for sale in my shop for
over two years. A private collector eventually purchased it, for a
nice price. I'm sorry I don't know who it was now. I don't keep
records of things like that." She handed the photo back to Nick,
noting his crestfallen expression. "French, I believe the gown
was," she added, fluffing her hair then smoothing her hands over
her shapely waist and hips.

"Yeah," Nick said with a heavy sigh. "French
would probably be right. My fiancé, her mother's side is French by
way of Louisiana."

"This dress, you say it was stolen? I assure
you neither I, nor my associate in Sandusky, are in the habit of
receiving stolen property. I'm so sorry. Had either of us known..."
Nick waved his hand forlornly.

"If your fiancé wants to wear an antique
bridal gown, perhaps you'll find one she'd like here in my
shop--"

"No, no. It has to be this gown, or she won't
marry me."

"Oh?" Angela's perfectly plucked brow arched
incredulously. “If she won’t marry you, plenty of other women would
be happy to, in a burlap sack, no less.”

Nick shrugged dismissively and leaned against
the desk. Angela glanced through her office door into the shop. Her
sales assistant was busy ringing up a customer, with several more
customers waiting. Hurrying to close the door, she faced it for a
few moments while her hands fluttered at the level of her chest.
Nick watched her back with curiosity. When she turned to face him,
he noticed her blouse was suddenly more revealing. He cleared his
throat uncomfortably as she stalked toward him like a hungry animal
sizing up its prey.

"Uh--" He straightened away from the desk the
instant Angela invaded his personal space, but she pressed the palm
of her hand to his chest and pushed him back against the desk.
Sliding one nylon-covered thigh between his, she mashed herself
against him, pelvis to chest. For a moment Nick was too stunned to
move. He hadn’t had any breasts but Julia’s mashed against him in
well over a year. Angela’s were about the same size as Julia's, but
felt different, foreign. His body stirred with inevitable curiosity
even as his mind shrieked in protest.

"Um," He placed his hands on her shoulders
and tried to shift her away, but she was stronger than she looked
and he didn’t want to manhandle her. What if she screamed ‘rape’
upon rebuked advances?

"Tell you what, Nick. You seem like a really
good guy, probably too good of a guy for a woman who would make
such crazy demands. "

He started to argue, because she had no idea
what kind of a woman Julia was, but Angela silenced him, pressing
her fingers to his lips. She ground her pelvis into his, and
grinned.

"You have a boner!"

Nick groaned against her fingers. He couldn't
help the damn boner! He had a high sex drive and with the stressful
end of school year activities in the prior weeks, he and Julia
hadn't made love recently. His body was reacting against his mind's
will.

Angela grinned triumphantly when he grasped
her hips, but her expression turned sour when he merely moved her
away and stepped toward the door.

"You seem to have the wrong idea about me. I
came here looking for my fiancés dress, not to get laid."

Angela sighed and crossed her arms over her
chest. "But consider this. Upon the culmination of getting laid,
love, I'll provide you with information that will aid your
plight."

"What? You're saying you do know who bought
the dress, after all?"

"Maybe...there's only one way for you to find
out, isn’t there?" She ran her hands over her breasts and hips.

Nick shifted from one foot to the other, his
body still responding to the provocation. If he slept with this
woman, he might be able to restore Julia's dress to her and she’d
marry him. She never need know the price he paid. But could he live
with the knowledge that he'd been unfaithful, even just once, prior
to their marriage? His erection flagged. It would be bad enough
never marrying Julia. But it would be worse to marry her and have
that on his conscience. "Thanks, but I'll have to pass on your
offer."

Angela stared in disbelief as Nick exited her
office, but caught up with him just as he stepped onto the
sidewalk. "Look," she grabbed his arm. When he frowned she let go.
"I'm sorry for that back there, but you can’t blame a woman for
trying. It’s not every day a man who looks like you walks into my
shop. But it was unprofessional of me. All I was going to suggest
was that you find a good seamstress who might be able to make a
decent imitation of that gown. Maybe your lucky little fiancé would
be satisfied with a look alike."

"Perhaps she would. Thanks, Angela."

Nick breathed a sigh of relief when he slid
behind the wheel of his car. That had been...uncomfortable. Never
before had he been tempted to cheat on Julia. He had plenty of
lovers before her, but they paled in comparison. There was no
comparison. Julia routinely blew him a way, so to speak, treating
his every erection like a special occasion. But back there in
Angela's office? Yeah, he was certainly tempted. Never mind the
root of his desire was to get his hands on the missing gown.
Temptation was temptation. He was proud of his fortitude in walking
out of that office with his fidelity intact. What he wasn’t proud
of was the fact he was now incredibly aroused.