Faithful (9 page)

Gloria, Pastor Lyles's wife, had the perfect answer.

“When Sister Gloria heard what color I was wearing, she said God must have meant for me to have this. She said I could keep it.”

Claudia sneaked a glance at Cyd, and Cyd knew they were thinking the same thing. She and her mother had often emphasized Stephanie's worth to God when discussing her choices, but never with this effect. Stephanie was visibly overcome.

“This is beautiful.” Claudia's hand skimmed the material. “Wait till I see Gloria. She's always blessing somebody.”

“Mrs. Sanders,” Cassandra called, “we need you at the front of the line.”

Claudia scurried away, and Cyd moved down the line, hugging seven bridesmaids—two cousins, two college friends of Stephanie's, two high school buddies, and—

“Hi—you must be Kelli. I'm Stephanie's sister, Cyd.” Cyd smiled and reached for a hug.

Lindell's younger sister, a grad student at the University of Texas at Austin, had flown in just today. Tall enough to claim the last bridesmaid's spot before Cyd and attractive, she had at least two groomsmen vying for her attention.

Kelli returned the hug and greeting, and Cyd turned to find her place in line—when a body bear-hugged her from behind, causing her to stumble. She pivoted and looked down at a semi-toothless grin.

“Hi, Aunt Cyd!”

“Hi, Mark!”

Mackenzie was with him, grinning just as big, and Cyd gave them both a big hug. Mackenzie wore a pretty floral-patterned dress, and Mark had on dress pants and a long-sleeved collared shirt.

“You two look so cute!”

Mark made a face. “
Cute
?”

“Oh.” Cyd tried not to laugh. “
Handsome
to you, sir.”

“He's not a sir.” Mackenzie nudged him. “And Mom told you to stop being so touchy about people calling you cute.”

“All right, all right.” Cyd settled them in their places directly behind her just as her father made his way toward her. Just seeing him stabilized her heart somewhat. He always had that effect on her—a strong, calming, everything-will-be-okay effect.

“Hi, Daddy,” she said, hugging him close.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Tall and trim, Bruce Sanders fixed her with a stare. “I heard something about an emergency. What happened?”

“Oh, nothing you need to worry about,” Cyd answered in a sing-songy voice. And she knew he would worry. He loved Scott and Dana.

Bruce looked skeptical, but Cyd eased to her place in line before he could ask more questions.

Cyd noticed Cassandra speaking with a guy up front, who began walking toward the back using a side aisle. Had to be Lindell's brother. She'd never met him, and her eyes kept skittering in his direction because she'd had no idea how utterly good-looking he was. Lindell was handsome enough, if you caught him at the right angle—hair thinning already at the top,
maybe
taller than Stephanie in bare feet, and chubby. But his brother had to be at least six foot two with a strong, athletic physique, obvious even in his blue pinstripe tailored suit.

He walked right up to Cyd. “I don't believe we've met,” he said, “but given the resemblance, you must be Stephanie's sister. You are a family of good-looking women.”

“Thank you.” She held out her hand. “I'm Cyd Sanders.”

“Cedric London,” he said, “and since we're about to be family, I think we can forgo the handshake.”

He pulled Cyd into a hug, and the faintness of his cologne mingled with his handsome looks caused her skin to tingle.

Stephanie headed their way the moment she saw. “I see you met my sister,” she said. Angling her thumb at Cedric, she continued, “I love him, but you'd better watch out, Cyd. He's a real ladies' man.”

Cyd turned arched eyebrows on him.

Cedric pleaded with his accuser. “Aww, Steph, I can't believe you said that.”

“Uh, yeah, I did.” Stephanie looked at Cyd. “You know I know the deal, right? He's forty-two and a big-time bachelor. Just letting you know, 'cause he
will
try to run some game.” She graced Cedric with a smile. “Gotta look out for my big sister. Not that she'd fall for it anyway. She's too smart for that.”

With the mothers seated, the piano struck up the bridal party song and Stephanie took a seat in a middle pew to observe the rest of the procession.

Cyd and Cedric moved into line formation as the bridesmaids and groomsmen began the slow march up the aisle.

Cedric leaned over to Cyd and whispered, “So you're smart, huh? What do you do?”

Their eyes met briefly. “I'm a professor at Washington University.”

“For real?
Dr
. Sanders?”

Cyd nodded, staring ahead.

He nodded, too, in approval. “Smart, sexy, and single.” He lowered his head to hers. “You
are
single, right?” He looked around at the smattering of people in the pews who had accompanied bridal party members to the rehearsal. “No fiancé out there? Boyfriend?”

She took his arm as they waited for his sister to finish her walk down the aisle. When they got the nod from Cassandra, they started down.

Cyd spoke under her breath. “I don't have anyone out there,” she said, “but looks like you do.” She tipped her head toward a woman sitting on the end of an aisle, arms crossed, eyes leveled on the two of them. Amused, Cyd gazed ahead, keeping a steady pace. “Fiancée? Girlfriend?”

Before he could answer, if he even intended to answer, Cyd moved left and took her position in front of the first bridesmaid. She couldn't help but look at the woman, who was looking at Cedric . . . who was looking at Cyd. When their eyes connected, her stomach dipped . . . and she bounced her eyes away from him.

The bridal party practiced the recessional and, with a collective groan, ambled to their original places when Stephanie announced she needed one more run-through to be sure she liked it.

Cedric stopped and said a few words to Kelli, and Cyd checked on the kids. “How are you two holding up?”

“Fine,” Mark and Mackenzie chorused, and got back to the riddle game they'd been playing with one of the bridesmaids. There'd been no shortage of people looking after them, but Cyd hung beside them anyway, for cover. They didn't flirt. Or give her goose bumps.

The line inched up and Cedric sidled up to her, causing the two to pair off again. “You don't go to this church, do you?”

Cyd glanced at him. “Ever since I was a teenager.”

“Really?” Cedric's head drew back in surprise. His eyes bored into her more intently. “Why haven't I seen you? I go to the eleven thirty service.”

“That's why. I go to the nine o'clock.”

“Huh.” He nodded to himself. “I may have to get out of bed a little earlier.” His hand brushed hers as he pointed between them. “Being paired up like this . . . kind of crazy, isn't it? Both of us single, the older siblings—mind if I ask how old you are?”

Cyd never minded sharing her age. “Thirty-nine.”

His eyes grew big. “No way. And single? Good as you look? Are you divorced?”

“Never married.”

“Kids?”

“No.”

“Wow.”

The line moved steadily forward, and she was thankful for the distraction. It was becoming apparent that she couldn't, by sheer will, force her insides to quit the stupid dips and twirls when he looked at her. Or talked to her. Or stood too close.

“So when's the big day?” he was saying. “When do you turn forty?”

“Tomorrow.”

His eyes grew big again. “Seriously? What are you doing to celebrate? I hope you have something planned besides this wedding.”

Cyd shrugged. “Not really.”

With Phyllis leaving town, the three friends had made plans to celebrate the following weekend. But after today, she doubted Dana would be in the mood anytime soon.

“Oh, that's crazy.” A glimmer entered his gaze. “I can fix that.

Let me take you out after the reception. I'll plan a special evening in celebration of you.”

Dip
. As they began their walk down the aisle, she leaned her head over. “I'm thinking someone might have a problem with that, and I don't think it was ever established—fiancée or girlfriend?”

“I knew I shouldn't have brought her,” he muttered under his breath. “She kept hassling me about it, and now she thinks she's coming to the wedding. If I had known you'd be here . . .”

Focusing on the woman helped Cyd to steel herself on the inside. “Oh, it's no problem. My little sister warned me, remember? And if
she
says I need to stay away from some man, I'd better listen.” Cyd let her arm drop from his as she moved away and into position at the front.

She was glad Cedric was occupied at the dinner, which was hosted by both families in a private room at a downtown restaurant. As he mingled, took trips to the bar, and seated himself for the meal, his woman—pretty, tall, and slender in a short, revealing dress—was pasted at his side, grabbing his hand or arm if Cyd came near.

Cyd ignored them both and enjoyed family from out of town and the after-dinner presentations, proud of the way Stephanie and Lindell honored their parents and showed appreciation for bridal party members. She did cringe, though, when Lindell shared the story of how they met.

“I had only recently returned to St. Louis,” he said, “after my residency in Ohio. I'd been going to Living Word for six months and kept noticing Stephanie. It's hard to miss her, beautiful as she is, but she never noticed me, which was kind of good, I guess. She was there to worship, not to pick up men.” He looked with admiration at his fiancée.

“Then the church held a wellness clinic one Saturday and asked doctors and nurses to volunteer their services, and there was Stephanie, giving her time, signing people in and directing them to the help they needed. By the end of the clinic, I had a date. The rest, as they say, is history. I'm thankful she agreed to marry me.”

They kissed, and the crowd roared with applause, but Cyd knew the history a little differently. Stephanie had declared from a young age that she was going to be well off, and she was going to marry a doctor or lawyer to make it happen. When the church advertised that clinic, Stephanie, who never volunteered for anything, told Cyd she'd find herself a doctor there. Late that evening, she called with her report.

“I told you I'd meet somebody,” she said. “And we've already gone out. Can you believe he's been going to the eleven thirty service? Not surprised I never noticed him. He's not really my type, a little overweight and kind of nerdy. But he's a doctor, and, girl, he's head over heels already, from a good-bye kiss. I decided to play hard-to-get and make him wait.”

“And what about Warren, Stephanie?” Cyd asked. “You've been seeing him for two years, and he loves you. You're playing with people's lives.”

“Warren is sweet, but he doesn't make enough money.”

“Then cut him loose so he can find somebody who appreciates him,” Cyd said.

“Why would I do that? Lindell might not work out, so I've got to keep my options open. And anyway, Warren's talking about getting his MBA. That could make all the difference.”

After Lindell proposed, Stephanie said she ended things with Warren. Cyd could only hope.

People were slow to leave when dinner ended, finishing last bits of conversation, double-checking the schedule for tomorrow. Cyd said her good-byes and headed for the exit, Dana on her mind.

The groomsmen had gathered near the door to the private room, and Cyd watched as Cedric's girlfriend headed out from among them and made her way toward the restroom. Cyd threaded her way through the guys, dispensing another round of good-byes . . . and felt fingers tugging her to a stop. She turned, her hand in Cedric's, as he pulled her toward him, enfolding her in a hug. She left her arms at her side as he whispered in her ear, “See you tomorrow.”

She backed out of his embrace. “Good night, Cedric.”

Cyd fumed all the way out of the restaurant. He had a lot of nerve, flirting the minute his girlfriend left his side. She hated men like that, always looking for the next conquest, plotting and scheming, leaving a trail of broken hearts. A male version of Stephanie, but ten times worse.

Her mental rant persisted all the way to her car and halfway home . . . until somewhere along Highway 40 that voice pushed through.

“
See you tomorrow
.”

Her stomach dipped again. Suddenly, the wedding day/birthday had taken on a whole new dimension.

Seven

T
HE
CLICK-CLACK
of heels was swift and rhythmic as Phyllis, Stacy, Natalie, and Gretta hurried to get inside Jasper's. With Friday evening traffic, it had taken close to an hour and a half to drive from Leesburg to Greenbelt, and they were running late to start. Luncheon talk had extended well into late afternoon, and by the time the four women freshened up and declared themselves ready to go, their cell phones had each amassed several missed calls from others wondering where they were. The local women who organized the reunion had designated an arrival time of six o'clock to ensure they'd get enough tables before the place swelled with people. It was already eight when Stacy pulled into a parking space in an extended lot.

Gretta opened the restaurant door, and heat, laughter, music, and conversation came pouring out. The women could barely walk through the entry area. The crowd was thick with people waiting to be seated and others milling about. With a bar in the middle, booths and tables all around, and bodies in every available space in between, the atmosphere was tight and hot and filled with energy.

Gretta led them past the hostess—who was telling folk the wait would be three hours—and into the main area of the restaurant. “I haven't seen anybody I recognize yet,” Gretta yelled back to the others. “Where is everybody?”