Sammy Keyes and the Wedding Crasher (29 page)

But the reason I keep looking at them is their hands.

Their spotty, knotty hands.

She’s holding his, and he’s covering hers, and something about that mound of spotty, knotty hands makes me choke up.

A million years ago they said “ ’til death do us part,” and they meant it.

They
lived
it.

Right there in front of me is proof.

It
can
be done.

Well, I don’t want to be standing up in front of all these people getting weepy about a mound of spotty, knotty hands, so I force myself to look away. And that’s when I see my mother. She’s sitting next to Grams, and she’s smiling at me as she dabs the inside corner of her eye with a tissue.

I just blink at her.

She’s crying?

Why in the world is she crying?

She can’t even see the old people up in the front row.

But my grams is all weepy, too, which I can tell ’cause her nose always runs when she cries, and she’s out there pinching at her nostrils with a Kleenex.

And then I see Casey. The pews are all full, and I guess there’s no room for wedding crashers, ’cause he’s standing by himself in the back of the church. He gives me a little smile. So I smile back, but then I feel all embarrassed, so I look down.

And what do I see when I look down?

The toes of my shoes, peeking out from under a mountain of lavender.

Seeing them makes me think about Casey slipping
them onto my feet, which makes me feel heady and happy and … I don’t know … 
twinkly
-toed.

The ceremony seems to fly by. There are no readers or singers or interludes. It’s just Reverend Doyle talking and reading passages from the Bible, and before I know it, Debra and Officer Borsch are exchanging rings and kissing and everyone’s cheering.

Then the organist starts up again, and we file out in the opposite order we came in, with Mr. and Mrs. Gilbert Borsch leading the way.

Now, in no time, the area outside the front of the church is milling with people, and I’m scanning the crowd for Casey.

Instead, I find my mother and Grams. “Oh, Samantha!” my mom says, holding my cheeks. “You looked like a princess up there!” Then she starts pushing at the little pearl pins in my hair and fussing with my curls. “You must not have worn your scarf.”

“Lana …,” Grams warns gently.

I laugh. “My hair is fine, Mom. Actually, it’s amazing. I can’t believe it held up this well.”

“Why,
thank
you,” she says, looking very pleased. Then her face flutters a little, and she says, “I hope you don’t mind, but I did manage to get in touch with Casey, and I explained what you told me. I … I also told him you’d be here, and I
thought
he was going to come, but …”

Her voice just trails off. And I don’t know, all of a sudden I love her to the ends of the earth and back. I mean, despite everything, if it wasn’t for her, Casey and I might never have figured things out. And I want to tell her that
he’s here … somewhere … and about what he did with the
shoes
, but it all still feels like a dream to me.

Besides, how in the world could I explain about the shoes?

What kind of guy
does
that?

And then suddenly a hand slips into mine, and when I look over, there’s Casey.

“Well!” my mother says, suddenly all rosy-cheeked. “I’m glad you could make it!”

“Thanks,” he says back to her, then smiles at me. “You think it’d be okay if I stick around?”

“You can take my place,” my mom offers. Then she wrinkles her nose a little and says, “Tri-tip barbecue is not my thing.”

Grams looks at her like she can’t believe what she’s hearing. “But it’s Ray James at the grill!”

My mother rolls her eyes. “You can stay, Mother, but I’ve got other things to do.” Then she adds, “And I’m sure Casey will enjoy my seat a lot more than I would.”

But in the end, Grams leaves with her. And the truth is, I kinda wanted to leave, too, and just hang out with Casey somewhere and catch up, but I knew it would be really tacky of me.

Turns out, I’m glad I stayed. For one thing, I loved seeing Debra so happy. She was just glowing, holding on to Officer Borsch everywhere they went. And Officer Borsch looked like a happy little boy.

In a blustery don’t-mess-with-me kind of way, but still …

And the toasts were funny, and the speeches were
tearjerkers, and the food was amazing, and the DJ was great. Everyone danced, and believe me, it was very entertaining to see grown men in lavender cummerbunds getting
down
.

Casey and I danced, too. We danced a lot. But every time a slow song started, we had just sat down or had just gone to get something to drink. And even though we talked a ton and he held my hand, like, nonstop, I started wondering if maybe I had a big, nasty piece of tri-tip stuck in my teeth or something.

Finally I excuse myself and go into the bathroom to check my teeth in the mirror and what do I see?

Nothing. No tri-tip, no pepper, no bits of lettuce, nothing.

So I yank open the door, only when I step out into the hallway, I jump back ’cause Casey’s standing right there.

“Hey,” he says with a little grin. “Any chance we could maybe get out of here?”

“Uh …” I think about it a minute. I mean, we’ve been there for
hours
, and, really, what do they need me for? Cleanup?

I did way more than my fair share of
set
up.

“Sure,” I tell him. “But I need to get out of this dress and these shoes first, okay?”

He nods. “I’ll meet you out front.”

So I go to the changing room and switch back into my jeans and high-tops, thinking that the minute I get home, I’m going to find my little horseshoe charm and lace it back on. Then I remove all the little pearl pins and totally brush out my hair and pull it into a ponytail.

And I’m just leaving when I remember—the receipt.

Who knew if they would actually need it to convict Mr. Vince?

So I dig through the trash until I find it, and stuff it back into my pocket. And I’m on my way out
again
when I see my glass-beaded shoes tossed to the side.

I think about it a minute, then snatch them off the floor. I mean, I know I’ll never wear them again. I know they’re ridiculous. But still. Something inside tells me I’ll be keeping them forever.

Anyway, when I finally get out of the church, Casey is waiting for me at the bottom of the steps with both our skateboards.

“Hey, it’s
you
,” he says, smiling. “Don’t get me wrong—the princess look is cool, but I like the real you better.”

I laugh and say, “Me too!” and take my skateboard from him.

But before I can toss it down, he stops me and locks eyes with me. “I
promise
never to let my sister or my father or your mother or
my
mother or anyone else come between us again.”

His eyes are so clear.

So … honest.

I nod. “Me too.”

“And I
promise
—no more keeping secrets from you. And if something’s wrong, I will
talk
to you. No notes, no texts, no messages … I’ll talk to you face to face.”

I nod again. “Me too.”

Then we look into each other’s eyes, and he slowly
leans forward. And when he’s just inches away, my eyes drift closed.

And then … his lips … touch … mine.

They’re soft.

And sweet.

And somehow … 
electric
.

And when we finally pull apart and open our eyes, my cheeks are totally on fire and I’m feeling pretty wobbly. And what I’m thinking is, That was definitely worth waiting for! but what comes out of my mouth is, “It’s about time!”

“Yeah,” he laughs. “It’s about time!”

Then we get on our skateboards, and he grabs my hand, and we roll down the sidewalk, side by side.