Crazy Little Thing Called Love (42 page)

“I need to. It's nice of the Hollisters to let us stay here this week, isn't it?”

“Very nice.” Her mother smoothed the sides of her hair, which she'd fashioned into a chignon. “Your father is resting better here than he would in a hotel.”

“He looks good, too.”

“He's stopped complaining about the new diet. And now that we're walking together, well, he doesn't complain about that too much anymore. We've even talked about getting a tandem bike come summer.”

“A tandem bike?” Vanessa tried to imagine her parents riding a two-seater.

“Vanessa, I wanted to say something to you before the wedding—in private.” Her mother glanced over her shoulder, as if ensuring they were still alone.

“O-kay.” Vanessa chewed her bottom lip. What could her mom want to talk about? She was twenty-eight, too old for “the talk.” And besides, her mother hadn't even tried to have that conversation after she and Logan eloped.

“I know it's ten years too late, but I wanted to explain . . . and to apologize.”

“Explain what?”

“About why I kept insisting you go back to Colorado with me when your father deployed—the year after you graduated from high school.” Her mother seemed to search for words. “This is harder than I expected. I'm not one to discuss family problems—”

Family problems?
As far as she knew, her parents never had a fight.

“Quite honestly, by the time we moved to Florida, I was worn out. And the thought of a deployment, so soon after we'd just moved again . . . well, I was angry. The military had promised us a four-year assignment. Your father and I argued about it—a lot. I wanted him to figure out some way to get out of the deployment, and he kept insisting it was his job. His duty. When he went overseas I even threatened that I wasn't sure I'd be waiting when he got home.”

“Mom!”

“We never really separated. We managed to talk things out long-distance.” Her mother paced a few steps back and forth. “But I was so caught up in my problems I didn't support you—before you were married. Or after.” Her mother released a shuddery breath. “And for that I am so, so sorry.”

Vanessa searched for something to say, but her mother's confession upended her understanding of who her mother was.

“I wish you'd told me all this back then.”

“I was the mom. I took care of the family, Vanessa. I wasn't going to burden you with my problems.” Her mother's eyes swam with tears. “I realize we should have talked about the move—all of them—more as a family. Maybe then . . .”

“Maybe then I wouldn't have eloped?”

“I deserve that. But it's not what I'm saying. I'm sorry for not being the mom I should have been before you married Logan—and after you married him. And I am so thankful you and he are getting married again.”

What more could her mother say? And hadn't they both made mistakes—and hurt each other in the process?

Vanessa hugged her mother. “I forgive you, Mom. And I'm sorry, too. Tomorrow is about all kinds of new beginnings.”

The moments of happiness we enjoy take us by surprise. It is not that we seize them, but that they seize us.

—ASHLEY MONTAGU (1905–1999), BRITISH-AMERICAN ANTHROPOLOGIST

W
asn't she supposed to be the one having the meltdown? After all, it was Friday, April third. Her wedding day.

Vanessa wrapped the light cotton robe tighter around her body before rattling the bathroom doorknob again. “Mindy, you cannot lock yourself in the Henderson Park Inn's bathroom. I'm getting married in two hours.”

The wooden door muffled her friend's response. Caron and Julie stood nearby. But what were they going to do? Break the door down in their bridesmaid dresses?

“What did she say?” Caron looked ready to find a sledgehammer.

“I don't know.” Vanessa pressed her ear against the door. Yes, Mindy was crying again. Or still. “She's probably saying the same thing she's been saying since she put on her matron-of-honor dress:
I am not walking down the aisle. The beach. Whatever. I look horrible.
”

“She looks beautiful.” Julie paced the carpeted room, the windows showcasing the Gulf, a glimpse of Vanessa and Logan's upcoming beachfront ceremony. “The color is perfect for her.”

“No woman who had a baby two weeks ago feels ready to put on a dress and be in a wedding—even if she's just the matron of honor.” Caron pulled Julie to a stop. “Enough pacing.”

Vanessa knocked on the door again. “Please, Mindy, just let me in. If you don't want to be in the wedding, fine.”

When Mindy opened the door halfway, Vanessa whispered, “Pray,” to the other two women and slipped inside.

Mindy had lowered the lid on the toilet and now sat there, still wearing her turquoise dress, her arms wrapped around her waist. All of her makeup—mascara, blush, and foundation—was gone, washed away in a deluge of tears.

Mindy blotted at her face with a wadded-up tissue. “I'm sorry I'm being such a big baby.”

“You're not being a big baby.” Vanessa knelt on the floor, hugging her friend. “You just
had
a baby.”

“And I still look three months pregnant.” Mindy choked back a sob.

“No, you don't. That color looks glorious on you. And the style is very flattering.” She held up her hand when Mindy started to interrupt. “And I have two options for you to consider for the ceremony.”

“What do you mean, two options?”

“Exactly what I said. Options. Choices. As in
take your pick
. This is my wedding day, yes. But I want everyone to be happy—not just me. You've been a wonderful matron of honor. And the truth is, I wouldn't be getting married today if it wasn't for you.”

“That's true.”

Vanessa brushed the drooping tendrils away from Mindy's face. “So, option number one: if you decide you need to sit out today, that's fine. It's not about the dress. It's about you just having a baby. You're tired. Go ahead and sit with Jett and little Alena. Enjoy the ceremony.”

Mindy sniffled, her eyes overflowing with tears again. “Really?”

“Yes. Caron and Julie can manage—”

At last Mindy giggled.

“I know—too funny, right? Look at me—I actually have a wedding party!”

“What's my other option?”

“Option number two: Jett is making an emergency run to pick up another layer of Spanx for you.”

Mindy jumped to her feet, causing Vanessa to rock back on her heels. “He is not. That man won't go near a lingerie department—not even for our anniversary.”

“He will if the bride asks him to on her wedding day.” Vanessa stood. “I told him exactly what to get—pulled a photo up on his cell phone. Brady drove him—after Logan told Brady it was a groomsman's responsibility. They'll be back in half an hour. So which is it? Sitting with your husband and daughter—front row, on the aisle—or slipping on an extra layer of support and being in my wedding?”

“I don't want to miss your wedding—”

“You won't, either way.” Vanessa gripped her best friend's shoulders. Lowered her voice. “Think about it. Right now there's a little girl who needs your attention. Sit down, take care of Alena—but come out of the bathroom and nurse her where you can be comfortable. Have some water or some sparkling apple juice. You don't have to make a decision until Jett gets back.”

Her mother entered the room designated for the bridal party just as Vanessa and Mindy exited the bathroom.

“Vanessa, you're not in your gown yet.”

“There's still time, Mom.”

Her ivory gown hung from a padded hanger against one of the windows, backlit by the sun, right where the photographer had hung it earlier to frame it for a photograph. It was one of the gowns she and Mindy had looked at last fall, but she'd left it behind, insisting she'd buy a dress in Denver. Before she broke off her engagement to Ted. And canceled her wedding—without actually canceling it.

And then Caron had found the dress—the exact same dress—on the sale rack in a little boutique in Destin. Another unexpected blessing as they pulled this last-minute wedding together. She'd paid an exorbitant amount to have it cleaned in a rush, but it was worth it. The bodice shimmered with tiny beaded crystals, the same jewels adorning the cap sleeves. The long, layered skirt would flow around her as she walked toward Logan—perfect for a beach wedding.

Her mother touched the loose curls fashioned into a low updo against the nape of Vanessa's neck, a few soft tendrils framing her face. An orange Gerbera daisy was tucked among her curls. “Who did your hair?”

“Julie did.” Vanessa nodded toward Logan's teammate. “Do you like it?”

“Yes. You look lovely.” Her mother hesitated for a moment. “Your father and I . . . we wanted to give you something for your wedding day.”

“Oh, Mom, I wasn't expecting anything else. Not after the quilt . . .”

“Let me finish, Vanessa. Please. Your father and I are happy, very happy, you and Logan are getting married again.” Her mother seemed to struggle to find the right words.

As her mother's voice wavered, Vanessa stepped into her embrace. “Thank you, Mom.”

“Don't say thank you yet. I haven't given you the gift yet.”

“Yes. Yes, you have.”

“Well, then . . . here's another gift from your father and me.” Her mother handed her a small box wrapped in shiny silver paper and adorned with a small white ribbon.

Vanessa pulled the ribbon and paper away, allowing it to drop to the floor. Inside the small box was a pair of filigree diamond and pearl earrings.

“Mom . . . where . . . ?”

“They were your great-grandmother's—on your father's side.”

“Something old . . .”

“Exactly.” Her mother held one of the earrings as Vanessa slid the other one on. “You now have something old, something blue—and know the earrings are given with much, much love.”

“Thank you, Mom.” Once both earrings were in place, she went and looked at herself in the mirror. “I need to go thank Dad.”

“He'll know how you feel when he sees you in your gown—when you're ready for him to walk you down the aisle.”

Vanessa knew her lips trembled when she smiled at her mother. “I'm so thankful he's here to give me away.”

“Me, too, Vanessa. Me, too.”

•  •  •

The laughter surprised her.

Vanessa thought she'd stand beside her father and, after seeing Logan waiting for her beneath the wooden arch covered in white fabric that floated in the wind, fight back tears.

But no.

Before she realized what was happening, she laughed—the sound mingling on the Gulf breeze and blending with the notes of the harpist's melody.

“Are you okay?” Her father patted her hand where it lay tucked into the curve of his bent arm.

“I'm fine.” Beneath the soft fabric of her gown, her bare toes curled into the still-warm sand. “No. I'm better than that. I'm happier than I ever imagined being.”

“It's a perfect evening to get married.” Her father kissed her cheek.

“It's a perfect evening to get married . . . to the right man. Again.” She hugged her father close. “Thank you for being here, Daddy.”

“My pleasure. I'm delighted to walk my daughter down the, um, beach. Now, I'm under strict orders not to keep your groom waiting.”

Laughter bubbled forth again. “Who told you that?”

“Logan, of course.”

Vanessa knew other brides tried to concentrate on every detail of their weddings. The guests. The music. The surroundings. And yes, all of those things were important. The fact that Brady and Max stood next to Logan, with Rylan acting as best man. How beautiful Julie and Caron looked in their coordinating turquoise dresses, carrying mixed bouquets of pink, yellow, and orange Gerbera daisies, their lacy white shawls flowing around their arms. And how Mindy had gone before her, a smile on her face again, beautiful and confident, thanks to both the extra layer of Spanx and the shawl Jett had thought to purchase all on his own.

But as she walked forward with her father, she only wanted to see one thing—one person. Logan.

He stood facing forward, wearing gray slacks, a gray jacket, the sleeves rolled up, and a brilliant blue tie that matched his eyes. Just like she was, he was barefoot.

When she stood in front of him, Logan leaned forward and whispered, “I thought you'd never get here.”

More laughter, this time shared with Logan.

The ceremony was brief, traditional, a repledging of their lives to each other in wholeness and illness, in wealth and poverty, in all God had in store for their lives. Just what she and Logan had planned.

And so, when the minister broke from the script and said, “Logan asked to say a few words,” Vanessa couldn't help but interrupt.