Fixer-Upper (Spinning Hills Romance 3) (22 page)

Holly smiled into Dan’s eyes and promised to love, cherish, be loyal, and only listen to “eighties pop crap” two days a week. Holly shed a few tears as she spoke, Dan wiped them away, Holly laughed at herself, and Dan then blinked away a few tears of his own. They looked as happy as Marissa had ever seen two people.

And the look on Sam and Johnny’s faces when they saw Dan tearing up was the icing on the cake. They both looked well and truly shocked.

Brian squeezed her hand, and Marissa squeezed back. Soon it would be their turn. Except their wedding was gearing up to be much larger than this intimate backyard ceremony.

Marissa glanced around. It was cramped and the chairs went all the way down both sides of the yard, but everyone had soft, blissful smiles on their faces. It looked like everyone there cared deeply for Dan, Holly, and Ella.

“You may kiss the bride,” Reverend Miller’s voice rang out, and Marissa turned just in time to catch the sweet, chaste, clinging kiss. They’d both closed their eyes, and when they opened them, they were sharing a secret smile.

Marissa felt Johnny’s eyes on her, even though she was sitting close to the back, but she refused to look at him. Instead, she squeezed Brian’s hand even harder and held on tight.

Soon, the guests were heading to the Old Dance Pavilion, where the reception would be held. But by the time they got there, Marissa was feeling off. Whenever she looked at her mother or Marty, she felt irked, for no reason she could discern.

The wedding party soon filed in, and everyone stood to applaud.

Johnny toasted the couple, and for the first time, Marissa heard the full story of how they had met. It was impossible not to lighten up and laugh at the story. Especially when Johnny described his and Sam’s reactions when they’d realized Dan was slowly, and unwittingly, turning the Craftsman into the house of Holly’s dreams.

As soon as the toasts were over, dinner was served, and Dan, Sam, and Johnny played “Kiss on My List” by Hall & Oates, and “Africa” by Toto, while the hired band and a disc jockey set up. Everyone was either in a happy or sweet, nostalgic mood.

Except Marissa.

Brian was being solicitous and loving. They hadn’t been alone in ages, both understanding how crazy-busy the other was, and both knowing they’d be together for good soon. But Marissa wasn’t up for his caresses. It was almost as if they were chafing her skin. He was being attentive and sweet, more so than usual, but she was keeping part of herself locked up and she couldn’t understand why.

She drank more than she was accustomed to, letting the buzz slide over her to help her be more loving. When the music started up, she grabbed Brian’s hand and led him to the dance floor. Abuela Rosa had taught her at an early age that dancing helped release tension, and Marissa had loved dancing ever since. But right now the tension wouldn’t leave. Images of other kisses, other words, and another face kept intruding into her thoughts. She took a small break and drank more wine. She wouldn’t be driving. Today was a day to be fun Marissa, not tense Marissa.

She went back for a slow dance and held on to Brian tighter than before. They danced perfectly together. They fit. Not like a certain goofball on the dance floor not too far away from her, who couldn’t dance, or sing, or keep out of trouble. He could’ve been arrested yesterday. Marty came home, talking and laughing about how he and Johnny had barely made it onto the van because Johnny had wanted to go back and get everyone’s clothes and wallets so no one could be identified.

Feeling slightly woozy, Marissa leaned back to study Brian’s head. It was a smart head, a handsome head, she thought, as he spun her around and wrapped his arms tightly around her.

 

Johnny led Cassie away from the dance floor. He couldn’t take seeing Marissa cuddled up to Brian and looking up into his face anymore. It was the happiest day of Dan’s life, and Johnny was hurting.

“Hey,” Cassie said, nearly stumbling after him. “Take it easy. Something’s up with her. I can tell.”

“How can you tell? You don’t even know her.”

“I know her a little. Enough to know she’s not acting like herself.”

“Well, she keeps drinking and he won’t stop her. Doesn’t he know she has to get up early for work tomorrow morning? That she’ll have the mother of all headaches? Does he even care?” he hissed.

Sam came up to them. “Dude, what’s wrong with you?”

Johnny stopped pacing and swallowed hard. He was acting like an imbecile. “Nothing. Cassie stepped on my foot, that’s all.”

“She’s such a klutz.” Sam smiled, even though Johnny knew he didn’t believe a word of it. “Why do you think I sent
you
to dance with her?”

But Johnny wasn’t paying attention. He was watching Brian and Marissa say their good-byes to everyone and leave. He felt wretched. Like a miserable, delusional fool.

Dan joined them. Cassie pretended she had something to do and left the three brothers alone. “Holly sent me,” he said.

Johnny rolled his eyes. “Holly always sends you.”

Dan clamped a hand on his shoulder. “I know we promised we’d help you get the girl, little bro, but the last thing we thought was that the girl was already taken.” His voice was so gentle and un-Dan-like, Johnny almost laughed. Almost.

“Forget it. Today’s not about me. It’s about you. And I’m going to dance with your girl. Remember when you thought I had the hots for her?”

Dan shook his head. “Don’t remind me. The things I said . . . I was such an idiot.”

“Don’t feel too bad, so was Sam.”

“Right. Two idiots. And then there was one.” Rosa walked up to Johnny and gave him a hug.

“What’s that for?” Johnny asked. Rosa was not usually that tender.

“You looked like you could use it,” she said.

Johnny hugged her back. “Always the wrong Medina girl,” he said with a sigh and Rosa laughed.

“It’s good to see you haven’t lost your sense of humor, but it is even better to see the man behind all the jokes.”

It was strange, but despite his heartache, the loneliness that had been plaguing him for an age had been disappearing as of late. He wasn’t subconsciously trying to protect everyone all the time, or act like everything was always a hundred percent okay and nobody had to worry about him, and people were beginning to see other sides of him—and it felt good.

 

Brian kept trying to deepen their kiss, but Marissa kept pulling back. “Come on, Marissa. It’s been so long. And your parents and sister won’t be home for a while. Let’s go up to your room . . .”

Marissa replied by throwing up. All over perfect Brian’s perfect shoes and perfect pants.

The moment Brian left, Marissa threw herself onto the bed and cried, because Brian had been so nice, blaming himself for letting her drink too much. And she was a terrible, terrible person, for not being able to stop thinking about a half-naked Johnny placing a crown of flowers on her head, telling her things she didn’t want to hear. The crown was hanging from her bedpost. If she loved Brian, if she was really committed to their relationship, she’d toss it out the window. And so she would. If her head ever stopped spinning and her stomach ever stopped rolling.

They never did.

Marissa got up the next morning feeling like crap. She took forever to get ready and drove ever-so-slowly to school. Every little bump on the road reverberated in her head and woke up the elves who had been jackhammering her skull all night. Acetaminophen and ibuprofen were overrated, and coffee made her stomach churn. Only sunglasses and tiny sips of water helped.

When she finally rolled up to the school, there was a large crowd gathered on the front steps. Kids, parents, grandparents, neighbors . . . everyone was waiting to hear whether they’d get to present at the Mosaic Fair. Marissa squinted against the glaring light of the digital clock on her dashboard. It was seven thirty-six. She had most likely already been sent the e-mail.

If they made it, the kids would scream, and she would surely throw up again. Of course, she still hoped they made it . . . but the butterflies the anticipation conjured up also conjured up the breakfast her mother had force-fed her.

She parked in the staff parking lot. Feeling ninety-nine years old, she ambled her way around the building to the front of the school, where everyone was waiting. The shouting started the moment they saw her. “Did we make it?” “Do we win?” “Do you know?” “Did they write?”

Marissa did her best to keep from holding her head. The last thing she wanted was the students, coworkers, and community at large knowing the teacher had a roaring hangover. Her first ever. She fished her phone out of her bag and refreshed her e-mail app. Everyone was silent. Emotional tingles began to mingle with the physical muckiness in her stomach, and Marissa used all her available energy to keep her breakfast down.

Mosaic Marathon. There it was. She held her breath—and the contents of her stomach—and clicked.

“We made it.” It was more of a relieved whisper, but everyone heard. Before Marissa could move or react, she was being hugged, tugged, lifted, and shouted at. All she could manage was a small smile.

“Okay, okay,” a laughing voice broke through the crowd. “Let’s give Miss Medina some room. She looks like she’s about to faint from relief.” It was Johnny. And soon he was leading her down the hallway to the teachers’ lounge, but the look he gave her when he left her at the door was not the look she was expecting. He was distant and serious. “I’ll call Marty—he has a great hangover cure—and I’ll have the kids show their parents and neighbors some of the dance sequences until you feel a little better.”

She knew then that Johnny had pulled away. He’d given up on her. Like she’d wanted him to. Good.

Melinda visited the school later that day and the kids had a blast learning to do stage makeup. The boys went gaga over her, and at first, the girls stayed away, eyeing her as if she were the enemy. But soon they were all too interested in the techniques Melinda was teaching to care about anything other than transforming themselves.

Kids who’d walked into the school looking as normal as teenagers could look, broke for lunch made up as vampires, zombies, and demons. Melinda and Johnny even called a truce when he let her make him up like a clown. She even spray-dyed his hair with bright green and orange stripes.

“It’s semipermanent,” she whispered, giggling, to Marissa. “It’ll take at least ten shampoos to get it out.”

Marissa managed another small smile. It seemed that was all she was capable of. Something had changed in the way Johnny looked at her, and it left her feeling bereft for no reason she could understand. Maybe she was more vain than she’d thought.

“You’re smiling that weird smile ’cause you know he won’t mind. I bet he’ll probably try to make it last. That says something about him, doesn’t it?” Melinda asked.

“It says he’s missing something upstairs. What if we get a visit from the superintendent or something?”

“Oh, lighten up. You’re starting to sound like Brian.”

Marissa straightened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He’s so careful with his precious image,” Melinda mocked.

“So? So are you.”

“Exactly. It takes one to know one. I think it’s why I’ve enjoyed being here with these kids and with you and Johnny more than I’ve enjoyed anything else in a long time. My own friends make me miserable. Moping around at home in my pajamas has been way better than listening to their veiled insults and backhanded compliments since I’ve been home.” Melinda looked down and frowned, and Marissa stared at her, surprised.

But then just as suddenly as she’d frowned, Melinda smiled a dazzling smile. “You know what? Maybe I
should
go after Johnny. Maybe he’s exactly what I need. Like you’re what Brian needs.”

Marissa’s breath left her body and she couldn’t respond. Melinda was worse than the friends she’d been griping about—hammering her with more information than Marissa’s already pounding head could take on.

 

The rest of the week was spent rehearsing, polishing rough edges, and fund-raising. Johnny felt it was important for the kids to do some of the work and contribute to the trip, and so they performed for donations and held a few car washes. There wasn’t time for much more, and the donations amounted only to pocket money for the trip in the grand scheme of things, but Johnny could see the difference in attitude it made in most of the kids. There was a sense of ownership over the trip and a deeper gratitude over having the opportunity to travel and showcase their talents and hard work.

The week ended on a high note, with the kids having a water fight during a car wash. Mrs. Simmons, Harold, and Marissa were caught in the middle. Somehow, Amy and Johnny were able to stay on the sidelines. It was just as well. His hair was still orange and green, and rock-hard, and he didn’t want to add detergent to that mix.

A hot June turned into a scorching July, and the new month brought new summer classes and new characters. He loved his job more and more each day, and he learned as much from the July classes as he’d learned from the June group, but he also appreciated more fully just how special and worthwhile Amy and Marissa’s musical had been.

Mrs. Simmons wanted to make it a recurring program. Rarely had she seen kids so eager and engaged, she’d said. They all knew they wouldn’t always make it as far as they had this time around, but there was no doubt every musical would be special.

The kids still rehearsed twice a week, out in the courtyard, under the shady trees, and they held a few more car washes and performances. Johnny would participate whenever he could. He even brought the puppies along for two visits. But he and Marissa kept an emotional distance, as if by mutual agreement.

The Cursed Lover no longer looked cursed. New cedar siding was up, and drywall had been hung. Dan would be back from his honeymoon soon, and he and Sam would be over to help Johnny prep the walls for painting.