Rose of Betrayal (55 page)

           
Feeling
like a mechanical soldier wound up too tightly, Brad hoped the tension on the
coil would not spring before it was all over.
 
Sam was close, too close; he could feel her, smell her.
 
Fighting his desire, he transported his mind
to a distant place where it remained dormant until the Priest intervened
inquiring if anyone objected to the union.
 

           
Bernie
became rigid, her eyes glued to Brad's.
 
Ralph's grip on Maggie's hand tightened.
 
Maggie sucked in and bit her pink lips.

           
Brad
strained to keep the objection boiling inside from deserting.
 
This was his last chance to protest, grab
her, and run.
 
Maybe he could make her
understand by telling her he loved her more than life itself.
  
Nails digging into the palms of gloved hands
halted the arm beginning to move.

           
Noticing
Brad's hand move at his side, Bernie’s breath caught.
 
Ralph inched forward on the pew.
 
With a single tear finding a course slowly
down her cheek Maggie closed her eyes unable to witness Brad's misery.
  
Brads mother's eyes widened as if suddenly
alerted of a very sacred secret, her response jerking her husbands’ glance
towards her.
 
Feeling them upon her,
Sam's whole body withered from the heat from Brad's eyes.
 

           
Brad
had to look one last time.
 
If he got
Sam's attention, she would know his thoughts simply by looking into his
eyes.
 
Maybe the answer he hoped for
would be there.
 
Sam refused
acknowledgment.

           
The
ceremony commenced, the Priest petitioned the ring, the imprint of which
embedded into Brad's palm from a crushing grip.

“The ring,” the Priest repeated in a
whisper to Brad.

           
Extending
his hand too quickly made the Gold fall to the floor; it rolled, and spun, its
sound magnified by the echo.
 
Embarrassment swamped him.
 
As
graceful as he could, he stooped to retrieve it.
 
Slowly up righting himself, eyes fixed widely
on Sam's face he encountered cold, blue steel filled with contempt boring
through him, a look that bespoke a smoldering anger as powerful as the sensual
knowledge clouding his black irises and surrounding his heart with a dull ache.

           
Sam
believed Brad dropped the ring deliberately.
 
Astonishment robbed her of coherent thought.
 
Fuming she forced herself to remain unmoved
when his black eye's, glittering with unshed tears, examined hers. She felt the
grief reflected in their depths, heard the questions his expression solicited
and wondered at the look of distaste on his face.
 

           
Instantly,
guilt assailed her with fresh doubts.
  
Why did Brad have to look so damned vulnerable?
 
Why didn’t she give him the chance to
explain?
 
Ted's finger coaxed Sam's face
reflecting the false calm of desperation toward him before there was time to
challenge her judgment further.
 

 
          
The
words Ted spoke he stole from Brad's heart, those he silently repeated to
himself.
 
Her whispered, “I do,” placed a
permanent seal on his heart.

           
The
Cathedral's nineteen bells chimed as the newlyweds sanctioned their promises
with a kiss.
 
By then Brad's weary mind
went completely blank for a moment unable to differentiate between tangible and
envisioned.

           
Quickly
swiping at tears Bernie reached for Brad's bent arm, positive without her
support he wouldn't make it down the aisle.
 

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………................................................................…………………………………………………………….

           
A
breathtaking scene unfolded when the doors to the ballroom at the Waldorf
Astoria swung open.
 
The florist recreated
spring with blossoming cherry trees, flowers, and fountains spurting rainbow
colored water.
  
A multitude of floral
arrangements filled every available space.
 
Chirping birds in cages hung in artificial trees, doves cooed, and the
orchestra awaited their turn.
 
Silver
trays lined with glasses of champagne and canapés carried by penguin dressed
people swarmed around the guests.
 
Ice
carvings garnished the tables draped with tempting exotic dishes.

           
Trumpets
announced the arrival of the Bride and Groom.
 
Little girls dressed as cherubs rushed in front of the pair spreading
rose petals at their feet.
 
Overwhelmed
by Ted's surprise Sam buried her head in his shoulder succumbing to the tears
threatening all morning.
 
Scooping her
into his arms, the crowd whistled, cheered and tapped their sparkling
silverware on the rim of crystal goblets to requisition a kiss.
 

           
Noise
from the merrymaking escalated transforming the reception into total
pandemonium.
 
Unable to halt the urge,
Sam sought the one person capable of taking her away from it all.
 
Each time she found Brad he stared at her in
disbelief. Though not one word transpired, an entire conversation visually took
place.
 
Afterward, he disappeared into
the crowd only to reappear barely in time to perform the best man's
obligations.
 

           
Swaddled
in Sam's beauty, the occasion and fantasizing his plans for the evening, Ted
noticed little else.
 
Aware Brad detested
formalities Ted dismissed his peculiar behavior refusing to believe it had
anything to do with the fact he was in love with Sam.
 
It was too late now anyway, Ted reflected,
Sam obviously did not feel the same or she would have chosen him.
 
Soon they would be on their honeymoon when he
would permanently erase all thoughts she might harbor of another man.

           
Brad
managed to fool everyone except his mother; the sight of him kissed her heart.
She had missed him terribly.
 
His
countenance told her something was amiss.
 
Watching him intently while he visited with family, she zeroed in on his
glances at Sam.
 
It would do no good to
ask him what was disturbing him.
 
Just
like his father, her son had always been a very private person who disclosed
little of his personal life.
  
An
intuitive woman, she knew soon he would return home where he belonged, there’d
be plenty of time then to help him resolve the anguish he must be feeling from
being in love with his best friend’s wife.

           
Mentally
depleted, Brad sought refuge from the gaiety in a secluded spot on an enclosed
terrace.
 
Having scrutinized him all day
waiting for an opening, Bernie excused herself from Peter and followed.
 
Not knowing exactly what she was going to
say, she stood behind Brad for a few moments gaining the confidence required.
 
Closing in, placing her hand on his shoulder
alarmed him.
  
There was a long pause as
they looked into one another’s eyes measuring their understanding of each
other.

“Is . . . is it true, Brad,”
wondering if he would permit the tears pooling in his eyes freedom.
 

He did not.
 
Blinking tears away, his voice that of a defeated
warrior, “She came to you, didn't she?”
 

Bernie peered at her shoes unwilling
to gaze into faded eyes, “Yes.
 
She was
terribly upset.”

Saying nothing Brad turned away.
 
When deciding to speak he addressed the
window in front of him, “What do you think, Bernie?”

Hand stroking his shoulder, “I think
there's more to the story.
 
I'm here for
you whenever you need someone to listen.”

           
Brad
appeared to shrink with relief from her tender, understanding words and the
knowledge someone believed in him.
 
Facing
her, tilting her chin with the tip of his finger he looked directly into her
eyes.
 
“I'm not the father.”

Trembling lips replied, “I believe
you.”

           
Examining
the ceiling, Brad's eyelids blinked rapidly bravely fighting off stinging
tears.

           
Moving
closer to caress his cheek, “Sometimes things don't work out the way we
want.
 
Fate they call it.
 
Trust me my love, time will heal everything.
You will forget and go on.
 
You have
to.
 
There will be someone else someday
who will erase the pain.”

“Like Peter?”

“Yes, darling, like Peter.”

“He is the luckiest man in the
world.
 
I only wish . . . “

           
The
pressure of her finger to his lips sealed them.
 
Swinging up on her tiptoes, she kissed him full on the mouth.
 
His arms curled around her holding her snugly
against him so he could whisper a confession.
 
“I thought I was in love with Candy once.
 
I wanted her very much.
 
I thought about marrying her, but . . . it .
. . it was nothing like this.”

           
His
passionate love for Sam shone touchingly in his lined face.
 
The torch Brad carried for her glowed in his
eyes like an eternal flame.
 
Quieting him
with another kiss, Bernie murmured, “Don't explain now, my love. I understand.”
 
One arm remained around her while his free
hand pressed her head against his shoulder.

           
Witnessing
the whole scene, aware of Bernie’s desperate love for Brad, Peter wondered if
he would ever be able to erase that love from her heart.
 
What he would give to have her love him the
same way, he reflected, but right now she was his and he was determined to hang
on for as long as it took to wash Brad's memory from her mind.
 
As long as it took to convince her, his love
for her would be enough for both of them.

“Excuse me.
 
I believe you are holding my girl.
 
If you don't mind they're playing our song.”

Bernie’s shocked
expression found Peter.
 
She smiled.
 
They did not have a special song.
 
His possessiveness pleased her.
  

           
Brad
relinquished his hold, “Be my guest.
 
If
I were you, I would never let this precious jewel out of sight again.
 
She's one hell of a rare diamond.”

           
The
kiss Brad pressed to Bernie's hand said good-bye and Bernie wondered if she
would ever see him again.
 
Swallowing the
emotions lumping in her throat, she paused to allow her heart time to steady
its beat.
 
All good things end, she
reflected. Brad was the best thing that ever happened to her.
 
He had unearthed all her finest attributes
and taught her she could be anything she wanted, do anything she desired.
  
He exemplified the purest form of decency,
respect, and love.
 
She would never
forget what they had shared.
 
As surely
as the sun rises and sets, the time had come to, unlock the cage around her
heart, and allow her love for him to grow wings and fly away so she could learn
to love anew.
 

Smiling at Bernie with a smile of
pure devotion, Peter answered, “I don't intend to, friend.”

           
As
Bernie waltzed off arm in arm with Peter, cocking her head toward Brad she
smiled and winked her good-bye.

           
Observing
Bernie and Brad from a distance, Sam wondered how Bernie could accept Brad's
deceit, his philandering.
 
How she could
. . . like a blow to her stomach it came to her, of course . . . Bernie would
love Brad forever.