Clean Slate (13 page)

“Mom, are you going to be okay sitting next to Dad in the
pew?” Jerry knelt next to Clara’s chair and rested a reassuring hand on her
knee. “You looked a little green earlier.”

She studied the fairy lights strung across the patio, and
concentrated on counting individual bulbs while she got her thoughts, and
words, in order. Her English always failed her when she was stressed, and yeah—she
felt a little bit of that. And where was Ben?

She looked around the yard, scanned the clumps of
rehearsal dinner guests, and didn’t see him. She needed her translator.

Jerry must have sensed her apprehension, because he gave
her knee a little squeeze and said, “It’s okay. The words don’t have to be
perfect. Just tell me how you feel.”

How do I feel?
Hell, she didn’t know. It was all too weird.

The wedding planner had Juan escort her down the aisle
behind Trinity’s parents with Louis on her heels. They’d sat together, with him
at the aisle, and her keeping a respectful distance not too close, but not so
far away as to raise eyebrows. She didn’t know what people thought about her…or
if they knew anything about her at all. What must they have thought? Louis had
seemed unaffected by it all, cool as cucumber. But then, he always had been
staid.

“I am not bothered by sharing a row. It’s…” She looked
around again just in time to see Louis approaching the table with a green
bottle tucked beneath his arm. He was still some distance away, so she leaned
in close to Jerry and whispered, “What are they saying about me?”

He drew back, agape. “You’re really worried about that?”

“Do they think…I broke them up?”

“Who cares what they think? Besides, everyone in this yard
right now, with the exception of Trinity’s parents, knows Kate. They know what
kind of person she is. They understand why she’s not here.” He stood, relocated
his hand to her right shoulder, and leaned over the back of her chair. “These
people here—all they think when they look at you is, ‘oh, there’s Jerry
and Ben’s mother.’ They’ve got their own skeleton-filled closets. They’re not
worried about ours. That’s why they’re our friends.”

Louis pulled out the chair on the other side of the large round
table and put the bottle in front of the place setting. He nodded at them.

Kate ignored him and whispered to Jerry, “And tomorrow?”

He put his other arm around her neck and gave her a hug.
“Tomorrow, what all those people are going to think is, ‘Oh, look how pretty
she is.’ Anything beyond that, who gives a damn, huh?”

With one more little squeeze of her neck, he was off,
ostensibly in the direction of his wife-to-be.

Louis studied her from across the table.

“He’s a good boy,” she said in Dutch. “A good
man
.”

“Yeah, he is. I’m proud of him and Ben both. I…” He closed
his mouth, wrapped his fingers around the neck of the bottle he’d toted over,
and stood. He navigated around the table and pulled out the seat at her right.

He set the bottle next to her cloth napkin and turned the
label around for her to see. “I remembered you liked that, so I had my secretary
track down a bottle.”

The wine was a rosé from Champagne, and one Clara hadn’t
seen in at least a decade. It was out of her budget. Her pulse sped, and she
placed a hand over her racing heart, stunned.

“You remembered that? Really?”

His expression was tender as turned the bottle back around
and studied the label. “I remember a lot of things, Clara.”

“Such as?”

“Like how you like your eggs a little runny.”

Used to.

“And how you used to always sleep with a light on.”

Because I was
waiting for you.

“And that you somehow always manage to turn a hundred
eighty degrees in the bed while you sleep.” He let out a little chuckle. “Jerry
did that, too.”

She smiled, but it didn’t last. “I hate you for taking him
from me.”

“I know,” he whispered. “I’ve hated myself for it every
day for the past thirty-two years. It’s been toxic, the guilt. Occupied every
free corner of my thoughts. Always niggling. Trust me when I tell you I know
how wrong it was.” He blew out a breath and raked his hair back from his
forehead. “When I took him, I thought that if only she saw him, she’d love him
just like I did, but that didn’t happen. Never did. At one point…I guess Jerry
was around five and going through this really inquisitive age, Kate was always
so angry with him for asking questions. Her impatience upset me. I felt like
she was being mean just out of spite. He was a good kid. Always was. I wanted
to just pick him up and go. Take him back to you and
stay
.”

She looked down and fingered the creases in her sundress.
“But you didn’t.”

“No. My family counseled me to just stick it out for a
while. My mother thought Kate would eventually leave on her own when she got
too frustrated. That way she could go and it’d be
her
fault and I’d still have my job. Well, that never happened. I
guess Kate got too comfortable and I let her get that way.”

She forced herself to meet his gaze. “Did you love her?”

He stared at the tablecloth. “I wish I could say
no
, Clara. I wouldn’t have married her
if I didn’t love her a little bit. But it was different. What I felt for her
was always familial. I cared for her—for her happiness. But was I in love
with her?” He shook his head. “I can’t be in love with more than one person at
a time.”

He put a tentative hand on top of hers. When she didn’t
shake it off, he wrapped his fingers around it and squeezed.

“Clara, I’m sorry. If I had it to do over again, I would
have chosen differently. I would have chosen my little family—you and
Jeremiah—even if it meant unemployment. I was a coward. I had my trust
fund, and we would have been okay for a while, but…”

She nodded. “But after that.”

“Yeah. The
after
that
is the scary part.”

She let go of his hand when a tiny dark-haired woman
approached and leaned in close from the left. “Hi, Ms. Thys?” she said, voice
surprisingly husky coming out of such a small package. “Can I talk to you for
just a moment in private? I’m Nicolette.
Nikki
.
Jerry works for me.”

“Oh.” Clara accepted the hand she offered and shook it.
Glad to have the distraction from Louis—whom she had no idea what she was
going to do with—she followed the woman toward the makeshift bar,
wondering what she could possibly want.

Nikki handed her a glass of wine and took one for herself.
“There, you look like you need that.”

She did. She took a long sip and followed Nikki to her
table, which was at that moment empty. She took the seat to Nikki’s left.

“How’s your English?”

Clara made a
so-so
gesture.

“French? I danced abroad for a while. Don’t know any
Dutch. Sorry.”

“
Oui
.”

“Jerry and I were in the same graduating class from high
school. He’s a goddamned genius, but I guess you’ve figured that out.”

Clara nodded.

“But, I don’t want to talk to you about Jerry. I want to
talk to you about Ben.”

“Ben? Why?”

“Because I have a little boy. He’s one. I’d do anything to
make him happy, even if it means spying.”

Clara startled. “I’m sorry?”

“Hear me out. I want to offer you a job. We have a sudden
need for a temp. How long are you going to be in town?”

In the church vestibule, stood on her tiptoes and peered
through the swinging door into the sanctuary.

The door arced open, and Juan poked his head out. His eyes
widened momentarily, but then he recovered and stuck out his arm for her to
take.

“Which side are you sitting on? Bride or groom?”

She wrapped her arm around the crook of his. “Uh. Either. I’ll
just sit near the back.”
That way fewer
people will see I’m here alone.

Juan deposited her near the rear on the right side, and
returned to his post at the door.

She scanned the sanctuary, taking in the ambience. Her
wedding had been months in the works, but short on execution. In hindsight, the
word “trashy” came to mind. She should have put her foot down with the
artificial flowers, but they were cheap and Momma wanted to be able to resell
them afterward.

“No use letting all that stuff go to waste,” she’d said.

Trinity had opted for simple elegance—stayed true to
herself and Jerry. Sure, there were flowers and garlands, but they were
tasteful. They suited the old church. Enhanced it, so the beautiful interior
looked like the site of the blessed joining it was, and not a cheap Las Vegas
wedding mart.

The church wedding had been Trinity’s compromise to Jerry.
She was a fairly unapologetic agnostic. Jerry wasn’t exactly religious, but
spiritual enough to want to be wed in a sacred place. So, she’d conceded. Daisy
had overheard someone on the bus on the way to the amusement park asking
Trinity why she okayed it, and she said, “Why wouldn’t I? He wanted it, and it
doesn’t hurt me any.” And that’s how Trinity and Jerry were about most
things…except work. They argued about work at lot, and pretty passionately, but
one or the other usually came around.

Daisy always felt optimistic about love around them. They
just fit. They were doing it
right
.

The vestibule doors opened yet again, and this time the
ushers held them in as Trinity’s grandparents and mother were escorted down the
aisle. Next came Clara on Juan’s arm followed by Mr. Rouse. Clara gave Daisy’s
shoulder a squeeze on the way by. Once that group was seated, the processional
music started, and Jerry and Ben entered from a door up front. Daisy sucked in
some air and propped her arm atop the pew’s side, staring at the two.

Everyone knew Jerry cleaned up well. He used to make a
living at it, and of course he’d look fantastic on his wedding day, but Ben…Ben
was nothing to scoff at. He was drop-dead gorgeous in the worst of
circumstances, but in a tuxedo he was damned near sex walking.

She slumped and pressed imaginary wrinkles out of her
dress, suddenly feeling quite inadequate in her dress from last summer and the
shoes she’d hoped wouldn’t hurt her arches. She hardly noticed the bridesmaid
coming up the aisle, and only stood for the bride because the people in front
of her did.

Daisy crossed her arms over her belly and tried not to be
that crying weenie when Trinity passed on her father’s arm. She glided her
fingers down Daisy’s left arm, forcing Daisy to look up.

Trinity nodded and smiled at guests as she made her slow
march toward Jerry, pausing at Nikki to squeeze her hand, then her aunt Ginger,
her own mother, and then she crossed the aisle to give Clara a squeeze.

“Ugh.”

Daisy turned to see the wedding planner in the vestibule
shaking her head and sighing. Daisy scoffed. As if Trinity wouldn’t make up a
few rules of her own as she went along. The woman was nuts for thinking Trinity
would walk down the aisle as if she had blinders on.

They all sat and Daisy leaned her head against the pew
side, watching.
Listening
. Absorbing.

The love between the two was obvious. Daisy could see it
in the way Jerry wrapped his arm around Trinity’s waist and drew her close when
she reached the altar, conventions be damned. He treated her like she wasn’t
something to take for granted—like something he could lose at any minute.

Ben tried and failed to keep a straight face, and gave up,
smiling that big grin that made the corners of his eyes crinkle. And then he
looked at Daisy, and his smile drew in a bit. Was he surprised? Disappointed?
Daisy didn’t stare any longer to find out, and instead cut her gaze across the
room to Clara.

Clara’s shoulders, even from ten rows away, visibly shook,
and Daisy wanted to go to her.

No need. Louis shifted in their pew, and a moment later, Clara
pressed a handkerchief to her face. Her shoulders stilled as Louis slipped a
cautious arm around them. When she didn’t pull away, Louis looked up front
again.

From there, Daisy really didn’t pay much attention to the
ceremony as much as she did the people within it. It was like watching a
television drama on mute. The words weren’t important because the actions were
so poignant.

These people loved each other. All of them in different
ways. If she could feel that all the way at the back of the church in the very
last row, why hadn’t she felt that from her own husband when she was the one
standing at the altar?

She must have been doing it wrong.

* * *

Ben hadn’t seen Daisy walk in. He hadn’t known she was
going to the wedding at all. He’d been so caught up in the energy at the altar,
he didn’t think to can the congregation except to check on
Moeder
, who’d been atypically weepy all morning. But then he caught
a flash of red in his periphery, and there Daisy was, looking awestruck.

And there
he
was
with Trinity’s maid of honor on his arm. He waited until they were in the foyer
to ditch her, the wedding planner’s voice barely registering to his ears.

“Ben! The receiving line.”

“Just give me a minute,” he said. He brushed past Jerry
and told him, “I’ll be right back.”

Jerry bobbed his head toward the pews. “Go on. Carpe diem
and such.”

Daisy was just about to file out into aisle when Ben
bumped her back in. His fingers went immediately to the short curls at her
temples and he raked his hands through the shorn locks before lacing her
fingers at the back of her neck.

“Do you think it makes me look like a boy?” she asked,
furrowing her brow.

He shook his head. “It suits you, but I liked all that
hair. Felt like it was part of your personality.”

She looked in the general direction of the buttons on his
vest. “Maybe I needed a clean slate.”

“I think we all need that sometimes.”

He turned his head and found the church now half-empty,
and there he was, neglecting one of his duties as best man. Even if Jerry
didn’t mind, Ben wanted to play his part. He willed his fingers away from her
face, but they refused to budge. So instead, he stepped in even closer and
pressed his face against her hair.

“Are you going to the reception,
liefje
?”

She shook her head, or
tried
to anyway.

He lifted his head and looked down into her eyes. “Are you
always going to hide from him? You’re giving him too much control.”

“I know.” She sniffed. “Just like when we were married. I
don’t want to cause a scene. He’ll pick on me and I’ll cry and I’ll have a
shitty night.” She winced and looked to the ceiling. “Sorry, God.”

He wanted to say that he’d stop Barry from antagonizing
her, but the truth was, if the guy started, the situation would probably get
ugly. There’d be words exchanged, and perhaps they’d come to blows. He’d seen
his mother so low and defeated for so many years that he really didn’t want to come
face-to-face with a man responsible for making another woman that way. It took
everything he had to accept that his father wasn’t a jackass, so he had no
forgiveness left to spare.

It was Jerry and Trinity’s day, so he wouldn’t cause a
scene.

He scanned the room. One quarter left. He leaned down to
her ear and whispered, “You want me to grab the bouquet for you?”

She laughed. “No. Who would I marry?”

“Me. You did volunteer, remember?” He winked.

There was a brightness to her eyes that seemed to dull as
soon as it sparked, and she slumped a bit in his embrace. “You’re not that
desperate.”

He planted a kiss on her forehead. “Who said anything
about desperate?” He let go of her and backed into the aisle. “You want me to
bring you some cake later?”

She wrapped her arms across her torso, probably very cold
beneath the overenthusiastic air vent in her summer-weight dress. “I think my
roommates might be around, but I’ll leave the back door open for you. You can
just let yourself in. I guess the reception will go late, knowing this bunch.”

He shrugged. “Probably.”

With one glide of his thumb across her jaw and a chaste
kiss on her lips, he retreated to the double doors, watching her cheeks flush
and a smile form on her face as he walked backward.

Oh, she was there. She was
so
there. Ensnared just like him, but absolutely mortified.

Ben didn’t have anything to lose. She, on the other hand,
had already lost once and probably didn’t want to lose again.