Stay With Me (31 page)

He looked at Chris and Rebecca a final time. “Pray
for each other. Pray with each other.” He paused and looked down at his notes
and then back up at them. Chris rubbed Rebecca’s back gently, the smooth satin
so cool and soft beneath his fingers. “Rebecca Ann Rhodes and Christopher Aiden
Reynolds: ‘This is the day the Lord has made, let us rejoice in it and be
glad.’ . . . Let’s do this.”

26

Stay

The music stopped, and Chris looked around to see
if he could find a reason.

Rebecca strode toward him, and he excused himself
from the conversation with his college friends.

She moved with ease, her train pinned up and her
skirt gathered in her left hand. “Excuse me, gentlemen. I need my husband.”

She wrinkled her nose at a couple of ribald
comments and a modicum of laughter as she and Chris left the table and headed
for the dance floor.

“Do you want to dance?” he asked her.

“In a little bit. First, I want to give you your
wedding gift.”

Before he could ask any questions, Joel stepped in
front of them and set a chair in the middle of the dance floor. He grinned and
winked at Chris as he walked away, and Rebecca held onto the back of the chair,
motioning for Chris to take a seat. The lights came down, the heat of a
spotlight hit him, and then widened so that a large area around him illuminated.

Rebecca stood in front of him and adjusted his
black bowtie. Her eyes danced and the corners of her mouth verged on turning up
into a huge smile. She leaned over far enough to give him—and only him—a good
view of her cleavage.
Have mercy.

“So, are you going to give me a lap dance in front
of 150 of our closest friends and family?”

Her breath tickled his ear as she whispered, “I
thought I’d save that for later.”

She glided off before his addled brain could get a
coherent response to his mouth. He pressed his sweaty palms out against his
pants.

Rebecca said something to the DJ and then took the
handheld microphone he offered her.

The room grew quiet, and Chris turned his attention
back to the DJ.

“If I could have your attention on the dance floor,
Rebecca would like to sing something for Chris.”

Sing? For me? In front of all
these people?
Not a trace of nervousness showed on her face or in her movements.
She exuded composure and confidence. The music started, and she moved into the
light, lifting the microphone to her lips as the sounds of a banjo being
strummed filled the room. It sounded vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t place
the song. She began to sing, and the sound mesmerized him.

Her warm, rich voice evoked longing. They only word
for it was sultry. There may have been other people in the room—a lot of
them—but this performance was all for him.

She walked in a circle around him as she sang,
inching closer as she went. He recognized the song now, but he found it hard to
believe it hadn’t been written for them. She sang about a jar filled with sand
and catching fireflies, and he closed his eyes for a couple of seconds as the
memories scrolled before him like a slideshow.

When she got to the first chorus, he thought she
might turn and sing to the hundred or so awestruck people who had no idea she
could sing like this. She didn’t. Her unwavering gaze stuck to him.

What you’ve given me is sweeter
than honey

What you’ve shared is stronger
than steel

You were sent from heaven

To save my life

So now I can give it to you

As she began the second verse, she moved closer and
sat in his lap. Dumbstruck, he put an arm around her waist and made a conscious
effort to burn this memory into his brain. Somehow she managed never to lose
eye contact with him while she undid his bowtie with one hand, letting it hang
loosely around his collar.

Another chorus followed and a last verse, but he
had lost concentration.
This magnificent creature is my wife? I am blessed
beyond belief.

As she reached the final chorus, she took his hand
and brought him to his feet. Eye to eye, with the poufy layers of her dress
pressing in on his tux, this last refrain seemed more intimate than the others.

You were sent from heaven

To save my life

So now I can give it to you

He suddenly wished he had booked a room in this
hotel. One he could take her to as soon as she was done singing.

The music went on for a few seconds after she had
turned off the microphone, and the first hint of disquietude showed on her face
as she bit her lower lip. “Well?”

The room erupted in applause and whistles, and
everyone stood. What could he possibly say that would tell her how deeply
grateful he was that she had done this for him? What it meant to him to hear
her sing. How his heart overflowed with love, pride, desire, and humility all
at the same time. As he opened his mouth in the hope that something capturing a
fraction of that emotion would come out, the metallic clatter of spoons against
glasses broke his concentration.

He was off the hook.

He wasn’t eloquent enough to convey his feelings
with words, but he could do it with a kiss. If their guests thought they were
going to glimpse another peck on the lips like they had the half dozen other
times they had tapped on their glasses this evening, they were mistaken.

Chris pulled Rebecca to him, and he knew she could
see the tears in his eyes. For once he hoped what was in his heart was written
all over his face. Her hands, one still gripping the microphone, wrapped around
his neck. He kissed her, his heart racing as her soft body leaned into him. She
kissed him with an abandon he had never felt before. Suddenly the merit of
waiting almost three weeks to do this became apparent. It was new
again—cherished and pregnant with purpose and meaning.

A tug at his sleeve finally pulled them apart as Abby
stood amid a bevy of Rebecca’s friends and family pressing in on her, raving
about her voice and her performance.

Chris couldn’t imagine going back to chatting with
his college buddies or elderly relatives, so after a few of minutes, when the
music started back up, he stole Rebecca for a couple of dances. Feeling like
his feet had finally returned to earth, he and Rebecca went their separate ways
for a short while before the DJ started in on some special dances.

Chris planned on dancing with his mother. Had
Rebecca’s father shown up, she would have danced with him as well. Apparently
no one got the message to the DJ that the father-daughter dance was a no-go. He
introduced Rebecca and her father.

Rebecca stood across the dance floor from him, her
eyes wide and her face pale. She didn’t need this reminder that her father had
chosen not to be a part of one of the most important days of her life. Before
Chris could decide what to do, his father stepped in and extended his arm to
Rebecca. A slow smile spread across her face as she took his arm and walked to
the dance floor with him. Never had the contrast between his father and
Rebecca’s seemed so stark. Rebecca’s father had spent years diminishing his
daughters’ self-worth whereas his own dad had spent that time building his sons
up.

After the dance with his mother, somehow several of
his cousins cornered Chris and pulled him to the bar for a round of shots. When
his cousin Joe learned he worked at a brewery, he recounted his experience with
home brewing and peppered Chris with questions. About ten minutes into Joe’s
travails with hops, Alan came up alongside him. He jerked his elbow against
Chris’s ribcage.

“You’ve got to see this.”

Chris tuned into the seventies Redbone song blaring
from the speakers behind him as he watched Abby, Jamie, and Rebecca at the
opposite end of the dance floor. Rebecca’s gaze was fixed on him, and she
leaned forward, one hand pressed against her thigh while she used the other to
beckon him with her index finger. She sang along with the refrain, “Come and
get your love.”

 An ear-splitting grin covered Chris’s face.

“I’ve never seen Rebecca so…so, uninhibited,” Alan
said. “It’s captivating.”

Chris hadn’t noticed Father John alongside Alan
until he spoke.

“She’s blossomed.”

He looked over to see his friend smiling, too, as
Rebecca continued to tease Chris.

“She told me, you know,” Chris said, still smiling
at his bride.

Father John glanced at him. “Told you what?”

Chris didn’t know why he brought it up now of all
times. “That you were her first kiss.” The song ended, and a group of young
women quickly encircled Rebecca.

“I didn’t know it was her first. I should have
guessed.”

“Must not have been much of a kiss,” Chris said,
draining the few drops left in his shot glass.

“Obviously it wasn’t with the right guy.”

Chris smiled, grateful that he was the right guy.
“Your homily today was perfect. Thank you.”

“I don’t deserve the thanks. It was off the cuff.
My notes were a reflection on the first reading you chose from Genesis. The
Holy Spirit led me somewhere else.”

“Well, I’m glad you followed.”  Chris forced
himself to look away from Rebecca and make eye contact with Father John. “Hey,
have you heard how Kimberly is doing?”

Father John reached into his pocket and pulled out
his cell phone. “I got a text this morning from her mother. She regained
consciousness last night, thanks be to God.” Father John glanced heavenward and
his eyes glistened. “I talked to her mother before the reception. Kimberly had
gone to Catholic Charities after all. They had worked out a plan for her to
leave, but her husband lost it on her before she could go.”

Chris heard what was unsaid: “It wasn’t my fault.
She didn’t nearly die because I pushed her off on someone else instead of
dealing with my attraction to her.” Chris pulled his closest friend into a hug,
slapping him on the back a couple of times for good measure.

He let go, and Alan’s arm clapped his shoulder, his
whiskey-laden breath curling around his ear.

“What are you still doing here, anyway? Go get your
hot wife and get out of here.”

“I agree,” Father John said. “You put in enough
time here. You should get Rebecca and go.”

“I think I will.”  They had a long ride ahead of
them, and he had enough socializing; he wanted to be alone with Rebecca. He
excused himself, shaking both Alan and Father John’s hands and handing a
business card to his cousin Joe before he crossed the dance floor.

“Mrs. Reynolds,” he said, standing behind her as
she talked with a young woman he hadn’t met. When she didn’t respond, he
touched her shoulder and said again, “Mrs. Reynolds.” This time she turned
toward him. “You’re going to have to start answering to that, you know.”

“I know. Maybe it will help if you whisper it to me
all night long.”

He grinned, more convinced than ever that it was
time to go. “I’ve come to get my love.”

“It’s about time,” she said grabbing him around the
waist.

He grinned again, and seeing the playfulness in her
eyes he asked, “What have you been drinking?”

“Water with lemon.” She smiled and stared at him a
second longer. “I’m drunk on love.” She giggled and leaned into him.

He rolled his eyes.

“I’m high on you?” she tried, laughing.

“Enough with the cheesy lines.” He wrapped his arms
around her waist, too, and leaned his forehead against hers. “Are you ready to
blow this Popsicle stand?”

She kissed him, her hands tugging on the lapels of
his tuxedo jacket. “Yes. Let me say goodbye to Abby.”

“Okay. I’m going to try to sneak out. I’ll meet you
in the lobby in a couple minutes.”

Chris got out in a few minutes with only one
handshake, two slaps on the back, and one messy kiss from his Aunt Lydia. He
wiped his cheek with the back of his hand as he entered the lobby. He sighed
and took a seat on an upholstered bench as the photographer approached. This wedding
business exhausted him.

“You leaving?”

“Trying.”

“We need one more shot.”

Chris leaned his head from side to side, and his
neck cracked with each movement. What did it take to get out of this place?
Chris paced around the lobby for a few minutes, trying to avoid eye contact
with any of the guests passing through.

Abby appeared, bouncing Ian on her hip. “Trying to
get out of here?”

“‘Trying’ being the operative word.” He leaned into
Ian and gave him a little tickle on his chest that he knew would elicit a
giggle. “Hey, Ian. How’s it going? I’m your uncle now, buddy.”

Ian smiled then leaned back precariously, forcing
Abby to grab onto him with two arms.

“You’re a lucky man, you know,” Abby said.

Chris gave Ian another smile and then straightened
and looked at Abby. “I do.” He hoped the sincerity of those two words assured
Abby that he treasured her sister beyond measure.

Abby wrinkled her brow and frowned. Instead of
satisfied, she looked almost irritated. “I should tell you that she’s a lucky
woman, too. You’re a good guy, and you’re good for her—that whole guilt trip
abandonment thing notwithstanding.”