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Authors: Susan Meissner

Tags: #Romance, #wedding dress, #Inspirational, #wedding

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BOOK: Blue Heart Blessed
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Eleven

T
he first wedding I can remember attending is my brother Kellen’s. I was five, he was twenty-three.

I was the flower girl.

I wore a dress very similar to the one worn by Laura, the bride. My dress was long and white, and it glistened like moonlight. I had a mini bouquet like Laura’s—a bunchy knot of lilies of the valley—which was attached to a little basket of white rose petals. I don’t remember very much about that day. To me, Laura has always been a Murien, Kellen’s wife, my sister-in-law. I do remember the slippery feel of my long pearly skirt, the hot closeness of the little sanctuary where the wedding was held, and how I saw Kellen cry for the first time.

He was not weeping, not like L’Raine in the third pew. There was just a sparkly, misty-eyed look in his eyes that made me wonder for a moment if someone was making him marry Laura. My concern was short-lived of course; as Laura walked the aisle toward him that pained look gave way to a smile that made Kellen’s lovely Asian eyes disappear into mere slits.

It was a huge surprise to learn that you can cry when you’re happy. When you’re five that just doesn’t seem possible.

It’s been odd to have a brother who has never pulled my hair, broken my toys, or called me names. Kellen has always been an adult. My earliest memories of him are always uncle-like.

My friends’ brothers, including Shelby’s, were true terrors—at least for several consecutive years. I remember being asked, “Do you have any brothers?” by sixth-grade girls whose faces crinkled into disgust as they asked. “Just one,” I’d say. “His name is Kellen. He’s thirty. He’s married.”

The conversation would end right about there. Because I had essentially told them I had no idea what it was like to have a brother.

I tried to argue the point once, with my sixth-grade history project partner. Her name was Annie and she had four brothers. Two older and two younger. They were, according to her, “ruining her life.” I mentioned I had a brother eighteen years older than I was and lived in a house with his wife and daughter in White Bear Lake.

“He’s old enough to be your
father
,” Annie had exclaimed, half in shock and half in derision.

“That’s gross!” I had said. What else was there for an eleven-year-old to say?

“So you’ve never lived in the same house with him?”

“No.”

“You never had to share a bathroom with him?”

“No.”

“Or anything else?”

No. Not really.

“You never dodged a spit ball, or been tickled until you peed your pants, or been locked in the basement, or had your Easter candy stolen?”

No, no, no, and no.

Annie had paused only a moment before telling me I didn’t know anything at all about boys.

I had disagreed, naturally.

Annie, wherever you are, you were right all along.

I owe you an apology.

Liam is waiting for his mother the horn blower—I mean no disrespect. She honks just outside the shop when she comes for him—and he is looking at a photo I have on my desk of Kellen and Laura and their daughter, Mia. We are just inside the little office of Something Blue, a little room where The Finland Hotel bellhop kept his street clothes. Father Laurent is standing by the open front door smoking a pipe.

“He doesn’t look like he’s your brother.” Liam’s tone suggests I am kidding around.

“Well, he’s Korean. My parents adopted him when he was two.”

Liam studies the photo. “And that’s your cousin?” He is pointing to Mia, my niece. She is twenty-one. I’m twenty-nine. An understandable mistake.

“I’m her aunt, actually.”

“Oh, yeah.”

He hands the picture back to me and I place it back on my desk.

“He’s kinda old to be your brother,” Liam looks dubious.

“I was born when he was a senior in high school.”

“That’s weird.”

“Well, I guess God likes to surprise people sometimes. My parents didn’t think they could have children of their own.”

“I wish I had a brother.” Liam looks away. Father Laurent has told me he only has the one grandson. I don’t know why Liam’s parents only had him. They’ve been divorced for just a year, I think. Maybe they couldn’t have any more.

“Maybe someday you will.”

A horn sounds from the street beyond the front door and Father Laurent, several yards away from us, looks up. Liam doesn’t, suggesting that maybe he’s reluctant to go. A wicked little part of me wants to keep talking to him so that Mrs. Ex-Laurent has to come inside to get him. The part of me with the little halo recognizes there may not be an available parking place in front of the building.

“So when will they be here?” Liam is speaking of my brother and his family, but now he is looking toward the front of the store and the street beyond.

“They’re coming tonight after Kellen gets off work. We’ll probably go out for Chinese food.”

Liam turns back to me. “You said your brother is Korean.”

“He is. But he loves Chinese food. So do I.”

Honk, honk.

Father Laurent turns to look at us. He smiles at Liam.

“Guess that’s her,” Liam sighs.

“Guess so.”

Liam slowly bends down to get his backpack.

“So your dad gets home next week, right?” I say, and Liam nods.

He begins to walk toward the front and I follow him. “So where does your Dad live, Liam?”

“Duluth. Most of the time. He travels a lot.” Liam’s shuffled pace couldn’t get much slower.

“Not anxious to go home?” I venture.

Liam rolls his eyes. “Not anxious for Allegra’s howling.”

I am picturing a little yapping chihuahua or toy poodle. The kind his honking mother could fit in her purse. The kind that some women
do
keep in their purses. Like a wardrobe accessory.

“Little dogs are so annoying,” I say.

Liam stops, turns and gives me a very strange look. “Allegra isn’t a dog. She’s my mom’s baby. Hers and Vic’s.”

Oops.

He turns back around and we close the distance to the front door. I sneak a peek at Father Laurent’s face to see if he heard my major faux pas. Can’t tell.

Father Laurent reaches down and gives his grandson a manly, one-armed embrace. “See you next weekend, Liam. Maybe you and your Dad and I can go to a Twins game. Sound like fun?”

“Sure, Grandpa. Bye.” Liam turns to me. “Bye, Daisy.”

“Bye!” I croak.

He opens the door just as another honk—a series of three, actually—punctuates the air around us.

I follow Liam with my eyes as he gets inside a silver Accord idling curbside. I can’t see the driver’s face, just a flash of sunglasses and blonde hair. He gets in, waves, and closes the car door.

The car zooms away like an arrow from a tight bow.

“So did you hear what I
said
?” I don’t look at Father Laurent, but I know he’s smiling.

“Yes.”

Now I turn and begin to babble my excuses. “Father, Liam hadn’t mentioned a baby sister, and you hadn’t, so I had no idea that—”

He holds a hand up to silence my apology. “Don’t worry about it, Daisy.”

“I didn’t know we were talking about a baby.”

“Of course you didn’t.”

“Think he’ll tell her?”

“No.”

“It just didn’t occur to me that… well, I mean, it just seems… A baby? So soon after the divorce?”

Father Laurent turns to me. His lovely eyes are so sad. “The baby is the reason Kristen left Ramsey. She was having an affair and found herself pregnant with the other man’s child. She knew Ramsey couldn’t be the father. He had been gone for eight weeks in Sydney.”

The air in the room suddenly feels tight.

“And Ramsey couldn’t forgive her,” I whisper.

“She never asked for forgiveness. She just moved in with Vic and took Liam with her. Kristen was the one who filed for divorce and Ramsey didn’t contest it. They have joint custody of Liam, but he lives with Kristen and Vic. Ramsey has him on weekends and he’ll have Liam for the rest of the summer when he gets back from Tokyo.”

“So, how did it happen? Why did Kristen have an affair?” The question is out before I can rein it in. I shouldn’t have asked. But I want to know how the relationship fell apart.

Father Laurent answers me anyway.

“I’m sure Kristen didn’t plan to be unfaithful. It happened when Ramsey was gone on one of his trips. She let her guard down, and once it wasn’t there, things just tumbled out of control.”

“That’s so sad,” My eyes travel to the street. Liam is long gone but I look for him anyway. “Poor Liam.”

“Yes. It’s sad.”

“And how
… how did Ramsey take all of this?” It’s probably obvious to Father Laurent why I would ask something so totally none of my business. He knows my story. He knows there’s a wedding dress in my store that I cannot seem to let go of.

“It nearly destroyed him. He didn’t give up on God, and I’m thankful for that. But sometimes I wonder if he’s given up on people.”

Okay. I’m done. I’m not asking any more questions. Thank heavens L’Raine is upstairs and hearing none of this.

Father Laurent takes a step toward the doorway at the back that leads to the apartments, but then he stops and turns his head back to me. He lays his hand on my shoulder and his touch feels like a benediction on my soul. “There are worse things than having your fiancé call off your wedding, Daisy.”

He swivels his head back around and leaves.

Twelve

I
t’s a few minutes before closing time when Kellen, Laura and Mia arrive at Something Blue. Mom is helping a customer choose from a selection of calf-length wedding gowns when the trio appears at the entrance. L’Raine is out visiting a friend in the hospital, and I am at the back of the store inspecting today’s acquisition: a lovely tapered A-line with an overlay of Venice lace.

“Ah! Here we go!” Mom says triumphantly when she sees them step inside. “My granddaughter Mia can help us. She’s your age, your size and is a whiz at fashion. Mia! Come here, sweetheart.”

My exquisitely beautiful niece smiles and hesitates. It’s a sign of her accompanying inner beauty that she doesn’t rush over to my mother to prove that she is, indeed, a whiz at fashion. Mia is an interior design major at the Illinois Institute of Art in Chicago and is home for the summer. She’s a whiz at anything that calls for taste. She’s the one who picked the color for the walls in Something Blue, and the fabric for the awnings and the furniture, even the light fixtures.

Kellen nudges his daughter. “Grandma needs help.”

Lovely Mia strolls over to where Mom waits. She is embraced and then quickly pulled into the debate over which dress is best. Kellen and Laura make their way over to me. I drop the dress I’m fiddling with and hug my sister-in-law first and then Kellen.

At forty-seven, Kellen is just starting to sprout a few gray hairs at his temples. They make him look smarter, not older, as it seems all graying temples do for the men who have them. Kellen is a financial consultant, loves numbers like I love gelato and thinks in equations. He’s the reason I got A’s in my business math classes.

Kellen was going to walk me down the aisle when I married Daniel.

I think it was hardest telling him that the wedding was off. And I think it’s precisely because he was the one who was going to give me away.

He’s not much taller than I am, but his embrace is strong and purposeful. He’s always been pretty free with showing affection, but since Dad died, he’s kind of taken on the role of Papa Bear. His hugs, his care for me, and his advice have all taken on a fatherly patina.

And why not? As Annie Sixth-Grader so eloquently pointed out some years ago, Kellen is practically old enough to
be
my father.

“So. How goes it?” Kellen steps back to look at me. He doesn’t say it, but I know he’s thinking that I would’ve just celebrated my first wedding anniversary a few days ago if things had turned out differently.

“I’m doing okay, Kel. How about you guys?”

“Not too bad.”

“It’s wonderful having Mia home for the summer,” Laura chimes in.

“She looks as enchanting as ever.” I look over at my niece. “She graduates in December, right?”

“Yep. She’s thinking of interning for a year in Paris after she graduates.”

“Wow.” I often forget that I am still like Mia, still in my twenties—for a few more weeks anyway—and still have the whole world at my fingertips, too. “That’s great.”

“I keep telling myself that, too,” Laura flashes me an achy, motherly look that reminds me I’m supposed to think like a doting aunt, not a colleague.

I excuse myself to go lock the front door, and as I’m walking, Mom shouts from her end of the store.

“Don’t lock it just yet, Daisy.”

I look over at her, but she has quickly turned her back to me and is deep in conversation again with the customer and Mia. I look at my watch. Two minutes after six.

The store closes at six.

Mom turns back around. “Here, Daisy, why don’t you help Valerie here. You can explain the little blue heart to her. This is the dress she wants.”

Mom hurries away from the customer before I have a chance to respond. My mother is perfectly capable of explaining the little blue heart. She is actually better at storytelling than I am. But she has rushed to greet Kellen and Laura, and Valerie is standing there looking at me.

I make my way over to her and tell Valerie what a lovely gown she has chosen. I’m halfway through telling her about the blessed little blue heart that will rest just under the small of her back, when the front door opens and a man steps inside. Mom walks over to him, all smiles.

Why didn’t she tell me she was expecting someone?

Out of the corner of my eye I see her lead the man over to meet Kellen and Laura. Okay, so he’s not a customer or Valerie’s future groom or a man wanting to sell a used wedding dress.

I finish up with Valerie, placing her lovely tea-length dress in a garment bag. I walk her to the door, thank her for shopping at Something Blue and lock the door behind her. Mia has joined her parents and the man I don’t know. I walk over to them.

“Oh, and this is my daughter, Daisy,” Mom pulls on my arm as I approach. “Daisy, this is Marshall Mitchell.”

That’s it. No explanation. Just here’s a man with interchangeable first and last names.

“How do you do?” I offer my hand.

“Hello.” Marshall Mitchell shakes my hand. He’s of average height. A little thick around the middle. Clear, watery-blue eyes. Goatee. Suit and tie.

“Marshall is very interested in learning how to invest in the stock market, and I knew Kellen would be just the person to help him out.” Mom sounds sincere but I’m having trouble understanding why on earth she’d arrange for a little financial mentoring when we’re supposed to be having dinner as a family.

Kellen catches my eye. The tiniest smirk is on his lips. He nonchalantly toys with his wedding band and lets his eyes travel to Mitchell Marshall. I mean, Marshall Mitchell.

I follow his gaze to Marshall’s left hand.

No wedding ring.

Marshall Mitchell is single.

I could strangle my mother.

I look back at my brother and he is fighting for control. Bridled laughter is etched across his face.

My mother is telling us how she met Marshall at the golf course last week and how they got to talking and I am only catching half of it. I am glaring at Kellen, imploring him with my eyes to please, please get me out of this.

He gets it.

“Well, sure, Marshall. We could talk sometime. You ever come up to White Bear Lake?”

Marshall starts to answer but my darling Yenta rushes in. “Well, since you’re here, Marshall, why don’t you just join us for dinner? We’re going to Ping’s. Have you been there? It’s fabulous.”

“Oh, I don’t want to intrude on family time—”

“Oh, it wouldn’t be an intrusion at all, would it, Kellen?” Mom doesn’t wait to hear Kellen’s answer. “This isn’t a big family to-do! We just love Chinese food. Please, you must come!”

“Well, okay,” Marshall says this as sheepishly.

“Lovely!” Mom claps her hands.

Kellen offers me the slightest shrug of his shoulders as if to say, “Sorry! Nothing I could do!”

Well, I can do something.

“Um, Mom, I need to ask you something about that dress that you just sold. It won’t take but a moment. Excuse us.”

I say these three sentences with as much urgent nonchalance as I can.

Mom opens her mouth to protest but I propel her away with a touch on her elbow.

“Really, Daisy,” she says as we head to the other end of the store. “Can’t this wait?”

“Nope.”

Seconds later we are at a far rack and I have my mother’s complete attention.

“Mom, we had an agreement. No more fixing me up, remember?”

Mom produces a look of astonishment. “I am not fixing you up. Didn’t you hear what I said? Marshall came here tonight to talk to Kellen. Not you.”

“We haven’t seen Mia in weeks and you invite a man you just met at the golf course to have dinner with us so he can talk to Kellen?”

“What’s so crazy about that? Kellen is an excellent investor. Marshall has money to invest. He’s quite wealthy.”

A groan escapes me. I can’t rein it in. “Mom…”

“What? Your brother likes helping people!”

“Yeah, and so do you, Mom.”

She looks me straight in the eye. “And there’s nothing wrong with
that
.”

Marshall Mitchell may be the catch of the year but I’m not interested in playing catch. Dinner now looms before me as a tedious affair.

An idea enters my mind. “So this is not some kind of blind date you’ve concocted here?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Okay. I’m going upstairs to put on a different blouse.”

Her eyes widen just a tad and I can see that it is on the tip of her tongue to suggest which blouse I should wear. She catches it before it falls off.

I turn and make my way to the back of the building, to the stairs that lead to the apartments. I am on the second floor in seconds. I stop quickly at my apartment and dash in to grab a lacy shawl to wear over my black silk shell.

Then I scurry up to the third floor and pound on Max’s door, hoping he’s home.

The door opens. Max has an iPod in one hand, and a single-serving Stouffers lasagna in the other. He’s barely touched it. He’s wearing jeans and a button-down shirt that no longer has any buttons.

“We’re all going out to Ping’s. Want to come?” I ask.

“What?” He pulls out an ear bud.

I sigh and repeat my question.

“Who’s ‘we’
’’?

“Max, does it matter? Do you really want
that
instead of Ping’s?” I point to his microwaved masterpiece.

“No.”

“Then come.”

“Okay.”

Max yanks out the other ear bud and tosses his iPod onto a little table by his front door that is littered with opened mail and loose playing cards. He hesitates for a moment and then places the Stouffers lasagna there, too.

He steps out to join me, his open shirt flapping like a main sail.

“Max, you might want to change your shirt.”

He looks down at his chest. “Oh. Yeah. Right.” He reaches behind him and selects one of three shirts hanging on his doorknob. He lets the tattered one fall away and slips a striped polo over his head. “Okay.”

Max closes his door behind him and we head toward the stairs.

“Max, please do me a favor and sit by me.”

“You want me to sit by you?”

“My mom has invited some guy to come with us. I don’t want to sit by him.”

“So that’s why you wanted me to come.” He stops and looks at me. He’s not hurt. He’s amused.

“Please, Max.”

He laughs. “You’re gonna owe me one.”

“Fine.”

He begins to descend the stairs.

“Want me to pretend like I’m in love with you?” he teases.

I can play, too. “Well, aren’t you?”

He doesn’t answer. And he doesn’t look at me.

Good Lord, now what have I done? A hot poker seems to have suddenly been inserted into my ears. It feels very warm in my befuddled brain.

“Max, I was just kidding.” I reach out to touch his arm. He’s got to understand
that
for sure.

He stops at the landing between the first and second floor. His head is dropped and I can’t see his eyes.

“Max?” My voice sounds ridiculously unhinged. “Really. I was just kidding.”

He looks up.

“So was I.” He winks, laughs and dashes down the last set of stairs. I have to run to keep up with him.

When we get to the bottom, he throws open the door that leads to Something Blue. The little party of five looks up.

“I ran into Max upstairs,” I say as we walk toward everyone. “Thought he could join us. Max, this is a friend of my mother’s, Marshall Maxwell.”

“Marshall Mitchell,” the man kindly corrects me.

“Oh. Sorry.”

Now,
that
was an honest mistake.

Kellen is staring at me but I won’t look at him. If I do, he will burst out laughing and then I will. It’s not good to be laughing when no one is telling a joke.

We start to head toward the back entrance, to the little parking lot at the back of the building. Mom sidles up to me.

“Max?” she whispers.

“You said this wasn’t a date you fixed for me and that it wasn’t a big family to-do, so I figured no one would mind if Max joined us.”

She says nothing.

What can she say?

I catch Kellen’s glance and I quickly look away. His face is wrapped with mirth.

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