On Love's Own Terms (18 page)

She allowed herself a brief moment of shame for having forgotten the ways of her raising, then turned to her excited sister with a smile. “Don’t quote me, but I think there’s one whale of a charivari taking shape today.”

Nervous giggling punctuated their last-minute flurry of preparations. Bonnie repinned her sister’s hair, anchoring it more securely this time. Darlene couldn’t find her shoes to save her soul. After five minutes of frantic searching, she located them where she’d left them—in a box on the floor of her closet. Sueanne lumbered up and down the stairs so often, Bonnie worried that she might well deliver her twins between progress reports.

Finally, the wedding hour arrived. Uncle Ike’s fiddle serenaded sweetly. Wildflower bouquets blossomed fragrantly. The guests sat or stood in quiet anticipation. Bonnie and Darlene descended the stairs, each to meet the man she loved.

Chapter 11

“For richer or for poorer,” the minister intoned solemnly.

Bonnie looked at Luke, standing across the semi-circle that the wedding party had formed in front of the fireplace. He cut a striking figure in a tropical-weight suit, custom-tailored to those incredible shoulders and his impressive stature. A starched and snowy shirt collar broke the tawny blend of face and fabric, accentuating the healthy hue of his skin and the bronzed thickness of his hair.

A wry smile curved her lips. When they’d eloped, he hadn’t even
owned
a suit. He’d worn a clean pair of jeans and a neatly pressed plaid shirt, while she’d let out the seams of her high school graduation dress to accommodate the weight she’d gained...

“In sickness and in health,” Darlene repeated distinctly.

Did Luke still suffer those awful hay fever attacks when the goldenrod flowered and the ragweed flew? Had he noticed the spidery white scar where she’d carved her hand instead of the Chateaubriand while catering an intimate dinner party one night last fall? Besides climbing scaffolds and playing a mean game of softball, what other kind of exercise kept him in such fine physical shape? Did he know that every evening, rain or shine, she slipped into her sneakers and walked from her shop to her small co-op apartment on the East side of Manhattan?

“With this ring, I thee wed,” Dave vowed gravely.

Bonnie’s head throbbed with memories. Sunlight glinting off gold whenever she’d hung their laundry to dry on the clothesline. Her girl friends cooing enviously when they would stop by to share the news of which college sorority they’d pledged. The compassionate nurse sliding her ring back onto her finger following the minor surgery which had dealt such a major blow to her ego.

Tears clouded her vision. What had happened to that plain gold band after she’d flung it in Luke’s face? She remembered hearing it hit the floor—the hollow
clank
had haunted her dreams off and on for years. Had he even bothered retrieving it, or had it just rolled into a corner and been swept away with her shattered hopes and the morning-after debris?

“I now pronounce you husband and wife.” The minister smiled indulgently. “You may kiss, if you’d like.”

When Dave and Darlene embraced, there wasn’t a dry eye in the room. Had everyone else here felt the same personal impact while listening to the wedding vows? Or were these simply tears of joy for two of their own, now one before God and man?

Bonnie glanced at Luke. Pride softened his chiseled features as he watched the newlyweds. He looked at her and their gazes locked. Her heart hammered expectantly, and her eyes asked but a single question. Before she could see the answer she sought in those darkly shadowed depths, Uncle Ike stepped between them and the reception got off to a foot-stomping start.

A crowd of well-wishers surged forward, further separating her from Luke. Bonnie shook hands all around, playing the role of hostess to the hilt while gradually working her way toward the kitchen. If anyone noticed the tremor in her voice or the lack of spirit in her smile, they were kind enough not to comment.

Precisely where she lost control of the intimate party that she’d arranged in honor of the bride and groom, Bonnie never really knew. Was it in the dining room, where she discovered Mrs. Painter defying the law of gravity in her stockinged feet atop a stepladder, cheerfully stringing purple and yellow crepe-paper streamers from the chandelier to the ceiling moldings?

“I saved these after the Easter egg roll on the church lawn,” the widow explained. “Never dreamed they’d come in so handy this soon.”

“I’ll bet the doctor who operated on your knees would have a coronary if he could see you right now,” Bonnie scolded, hoping the threat struck a little terror where it would do the most good.

Mrs. Painter seemed to give the matter careful consideration before she sniffed haughtily. “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

Bonnie steadied the ladder while the feisty widow slapped a piece of tape across a streamer. “Please,” the younger woman implored, imagining nothing less than total disaster, “let me help.”

“Okay,” the white-haired wonder agreed, “go organize that crew of casserole queens and leave me alone. I’d like to get done with this before I meet my Maker.”

In the kitchen, Bonnie acknowledged that the small reception she’d planned for Dave and Darlene was indeed a thing of the past.

A kettle of large white hominy bubbled on the stove beside a pot of fresh green beans flavored with salt pork. In a huge flat willow basket her potato rolls—baked to a delicate brown—nestled with crispy hush puppies, golden slabs of cornbread and thick slices of buttermilk bread.

Cinnamon-rich peach cobblers, tame gooseberry pies and bowls of carrot pudding shared counter space with the chocolate wedding cake that she’d created. And the platter of brisket she’d prepared ahead of time sat in the center of the formica table surrounded by other serving dishes piled high with fried chicken and sugar-cured ham.

Sueanne had tied a butcher-block apron over her slate-blue maternity smock, kicked off her sensibly heeled sandals and taken charge of the kitchen patrol. She spread her arms wide, blew a russet wisp of hair off her damp forehead and smiled. “Well, what do you think?”

“I think I’ve been sabotaged,” Bonnie teased.

“Roundly and soundly,” Sueanne confirmed.

Bonnie plucked a watermelon pickle off a relish tray and plopped the crunchy cube into her mouth. “This room looks like an emergency relief center.”

“Like I said earlier, you know how it is around here.” Sueanne selected a crisp cucumber spear from the same tray. “Money is scarce, but friends are sacred.”

On the verge of tears for the umpteenth time that week, Bonnie could only nod in agreement She walked to the sink and stared out the window, thinking of all the brutally lonely holidays she’d spent in strangers’ kitchens. Without a husband or family and with no close friends to speak of, she’d always been available for the assignments that other caterers refused because they wanted to be home for the celebration.

She had overworked herself on purpose, funneling every ounce of energy into a business that had eventually become the core of her very existence. What a price she had paid, nurturing profit margins as a substitute for the child she had lost and letting money take the place of love.

Sueanne shooed everyone else out of the kitchen, then stood beside Bonnie at the sink “You and Luke were always such perfectionists,” she mused quietly. “Even as kids, neither of you ever seemed satisfied with second-best.”

“Darlene called me the original golden girl the other day, but somehow it didn’t seem like much of a compliment,” Bonnie admitted in a whisper. “I wonder if she had a nickname for Luke?”

“Well, my daddy generally referred to the two of you as thoroughbreds.” Sueanne laughed softly. “I remember one night Tom and I were sitting in my folks’ kitchen when you and Luke stopped by after softball practice. The four of us made lemonade from scratch and used up all my mother’s sugar—”

“You and I were juniors in high school that spring,” Bonnie reminisced. “Luke was captain of his college team, and I was their unofficial cheerleader and scorekeeper.”

Sueanne nodded, obviously pleased that Bonnie recalled the occasion. “My daddy joined us for a while and was so impressed, listening while Luke talked about how someday he was going to build bridges all over the world. Then you chimed in and described the tea shop that you intended to open in downtown Atlanta.” She chuckled. “Of course, you were also going to marry each other, own the biggest home in the Southeast and raise ten kids in your spare time.”

“We didn’t miss realizing our professional pipe dreams by much,” Bonnie murmured. Her eyes brimming with tears, she tore a paper towel off the roll and used it to blot them. “We fell a little short of our personal goals, though.”

“Darn! I brought this up to make a point and instead I’ve made you cry.” Sueanne rapped a fist on the edge of the sink. “I’m sorry.

“Don’t be—I want to hear what you have to say.” Bonnie managed a watery but convincing smile. “You can’t possibly be any harsher than I’ve been on myself. And the same is probably true of Luke.”

“What I’ve been leading up to is, in all the ways that count both of you were well-prepared for success.” Sueanne arched an auburn eyebrow, looking wise beyond her years. “It was failure that caught the two of you off-guard.”

“And how,” Bonnie agreed wryly.

“If you’re going to homestead, girls, build a fence.” Mrs. Painter shoved open the swinging doors and stormed into the kitchen. “In case you’ve forgotten, there’s a party of hungry people out there.” The “casserole queens” she’d referred to earlier marched in behind her and began taking the food into the dining room.

“Sueanne.” Bonnie stopped her friend in passing. “Did your dad
really
call me a thoroughbred?”

“He sure did,” Sueanne affirmed, picking up a plate of molasses cookies to carry out to the table. “He used to say, ‘Give Bonnie enough steel wool and she’ll knit a stove.’”

“Was that before or after the time I talked you into bleaching your hair and it turned orange?” Bonnie took her pesto salad from the refrigerator and stirred it, then garnished it with tomato wedges.

“I looked like a clown!” Sueanne remembered with a shudder. “Even if my daddy hadn’t grounded me, I wouldn’t have left the house.” She lifted a glass baking dish of macaroni swimming in cream sauce and cheddar cheese. “If my daughter Vicki ever does anything that dumb—”

“There
you are,” Darlene scolded with mock severity as she entered the kitchen. “I should have known, I suppose.” With her skirt hoisted up about her knees and her feet bare, she resembled a little girl playing dress-up in her mother’s clothes. She grabbed Bonnie’s hand and gave it a hearty yank. “Come on, Tom wants to take pictures of the four of us while we’re still fairly presentable.”

Faces and voices were a blur as her sister practically dragged her into the living room. Tom posed them first in front of the fireplace where they’d held the ceremony. Then he took only the bride and groom, their arms tightly linked and their eyes sparkling with love and laughter.

When Luke moved away from the mantel, he was immediately surrounded by a happy horde eager to have a word with him and share the latest local gossip. Bonnie waited quietly on the fringe of the noisy reunion, feeling like an outsider looking in and wondering whether she could ever truly belong again. Self-consciously, she dropped her gaze to the floor and stepped backwards a few feet. It wouldn’t do to act pushy or—

“Now take Bonnie and Luke together,” Darlene directed with Dave’s full approval.

“Come on, you two.” Tom waved them into place.

Bonnie glanced at Luke. His jawline hardened as he noticed that she was standing apart from everyone else. Although her spirits plunged, she raised her chin in challenge. What hurt most was that he hadn’t even tried to include her.

Luckily, their brief visual deadlock appeared to go unnoticed by the others. Somebody pulled her forward and positioned her beside him while the crowd melted out of the picture.

“Bonnie, you look like you just lost your best friend,” Tom chided, peering through the lens.

Maybe I have,
she answered silently as she pasted on a false smile for posterity’s sake.

“Luke, would it kill you to relax a little?” Tom asked, his patience clearly wearing thin.

Luke shrugged his broad shoulders, loosening up a bit, then eyed her with a frown. “Do you realize that you’re the only woman in the house who’s still wearing shoes?”

Bonnie breathed a short laugh of disbelief. She didn’t want to argue with him, not now, yet she heard herself issue a challenge. “Does that fact insult your keep-them-barefoot-and-pregnant mentality?”

“One picture,” Tom implored.

Luke chuckled, throwing her off-guard, then crouched down so abruptly that she didn’t have a chance to consider escape. His strong fingers captured her slender ankle and raised her foot off the floor. She reached down, groping for support but grabbing a handful of his hair by mistake.

He yelped, startling her, and she jerked backward. They both lost their balance and sat down, hard. When it was obvious that pride was the only casualty of their fall, the crowd they’d attracted began applauding.

“Perfect!” Tom took aim and snapped. A blinding flash confirmed that he had frozen their sprawling figures on film.

More applause. Luke grinned wickedly as he reached down and methodically removed her shoes, then tossed them over his shoulder. A boxing-crowd roar—decidedly male, she noted—greeted his action.

Not to be outdone, Bonnie slid her index finger into the knot of his tie and tugged. When the four-in-hand gave, she slipped the silk tie from under his collar and threw it into the air. A soprano ovation rewarded her effort.

They gazed at each other and, of one accord, broke into hearty laughter to the utter delight of the wedding guests.

“Come and get it!” Mrs. Painter yelled from the dining room.

The battle between the sexes ended in a draw. Luke scrambled lithely to his feet, then extended a hand and assisted Bonnie. The hard pressure of his grip shot an exquisite thrill along her arm, and his breath felt warm as summer rain on her face when she stood, two inches shorter than before, in front of him.