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Authors: Robyn Carr

The Wedding Party (26 page)

BOOK: The Wedding Party
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“Partly.”

“You've been so quiet, so introspective. I thought it was all this business with me, with my illness.”

“I've had a lot of thinking to do. I've been thinking about you, too, but I honestly haven't been too worried, because I know we're going to work things out. I know you're going to be okay.”

“Oh, Stephie, you didn't have to go through this alone. You could have come to your mom and me. We have such a lot of experience with men leaving.”

“Well, that's just it. Two generations of being shafted by guys. Somehow I don't think any advice you could give me would…would…”

“Don't say any more, Stephie. Bad track record, I know. And you don't want to be the third in a series.”

“Peaches, he didn't leave me because he's a bum. He left me because I'm
impossible.

“That's not true, honey. That's just not—”

“It
is.
Peaches, I can't believe what he had to put up with! I have so much growing up to do.”

“We all do, honey. We all do.”

“Peaches, have you thought about moving back into your house after the work is finished?”

“I'd like to do that, but I don't kid myself. It may not be possible. I did almost burn the place down.”

“Because I've been thinking, that maybe we should be roommates. We could stay together in your house until…well, just until.”

It was all Peaches could do to keep from climbing over the little patio table and embracing her granddaughter. “Oh, honey. I don't know if you really want to take that on.”

“Take
that
on. Do you mean you?” Stephanie said, adding a laugh. “But I love you!”

“It's more than me, it's me and a disease. A progressive disease. And not only that,” she said, giving that hand another squeeze. “This thing with Grant may yet be worked out.”

“Well, I'm not going to worry about that right now,” Stephanie said. “Instead, I'm going to worry about getting my life together. Prioritizing. Working on the things that matter to me most, and doing the things that are going to have meaning for the rest of my life. Believe me, a Saturday night with Grant at home instead of working isn't going to be the most important thing in the end. In the end, I don't want to have wasted a minute with you.”

Peaches stared at her granddaughter in wonder.
“My dear child, you're more grown-up than you give yourself credit for.”

“Peaches? Let's not tell Mom any of this yet, okay? About Grant, about you and I possibly becoming roommates…”

“Lucky for you I most likely won't remember you ever mentioned it.”

“You make bad jokes.”

“You'll appreciate that someday, believe me. Oh, Stephanie. Before I forget—” She stopped right there, rolled her eyes and smiled. “I love you. You are the greatest thing my daughter ever did for me.”

 

Charlene stood at her office window and watched the shadows of the setting sun play on the hillsides of the Sierra Nevadas. The afternoon had flown by and she had only put the smallest dent in her work. But she couldn't deny it felt good to concentrate on something other than her mother being sick or whether workmen would show up on time.

In her years as a lawyer she had drawn up hundreds of powers of attorney, settled just as many wills and written quite a few living trusts. Usually the families she served were much more desperate than hers. It was typical for people to realize they needed this kind of help when the central character was already well beyond self-care. She had always said—and Lois had always agreed—there was no reason on earth for them to be less than prepared. After all, they were a very small family, a family of only three women. And they knew how to take care of each other.

But nothing had taken it out of her like drawing up a conservatorship for her own energetic, independent mother, even though it was for her safety.

There were other associated feelings that confused her and made her feel guilty. For example, Lois needed her and she
really
wanted to be there for her mother, but
there
wasn't where she wanted to be. She wanted to be
here!
This was where she felt she could perform at the peak of her abilities, and she was hooked on that performance high.

There were two sharp taps at her office door just before it opened. Jake stood in the frame. “Charlie, I have some news.” He stepped closer. “Hey, hey, hey, what's this I see?” For a second she didn't realize what he was talking about until he reached toward her face with the back of his hand. She turned quickly away and brushed at her cheeks, then retreated behind her desk. She was getting very uncomfortable with the frequency that this was happening.

She turned back to Jake. “Stephanie, Peaches and I were at Judge Kemp's office to get his signature and seal on some important papers today. Stephanie is now my mother's legal guardian. Just to be ready, you know? Because she's going to need us to…you know…think and remember for her.”

“So soon? Charlie, didn't she just start showing symptoms of—”

“She almost burned her house down!”

“Hey,” he said, palms toward her, holding her off. “I just asked. If you all agree to the arrangement, who am I to question it?”

She took a breath. “Sorry. It was harder than I thought. There have been so many confusing issues lately. Leaves me wondering, you know?”

“Wondering what?” he asked hopefully.

“Oh, never mind…. Suffice it to say, there seem to be a lot of issues right now.”

He was quiet, looking down at the tops of his shoes. She wasn't the only one with issues. He hadn't spent so much time thinking about a woman since Charlie left him over twenty-five years ago. It was like falling in love with her all over again, even though he'd loved her all along. Had she at least decided it would be a disaster to marry Dennis?

He took strange hope in her tears. She was so good at compartmentalizing, something men usually managed better than women. In their relationship it was Charlie who could box things up in neatly tied little packages, out of sight and mind, while Jake stewed. He looked up at her, his eyes soft. “Yeah. A lot of issues, huh?”

“I admit to being a little emotionally unstable right now, okay?”

He laughed. “Really?”

“Try not to be a pain in the ass, Jake. My life is a wreck.”

“Well, maybe this will make it easier. I talked to Merrie this afternoon. The kid has such a soft heart. She's going to get in touch with her ex and ask him about his kid's leukemia.”

“I wonder about this guy, Jake. Do you think if the situation were reversed, he'd help Meredith?”

“I don't know, Charlie. But I do know this. It isn't the stuff you get that makes you the better person, it's the stuff you give.”

“Oh, Jake,” she said, her eyes welling up with tears anew.

“Hey, Charlie, you're nothing but mush today.” He pulled her into his embrace, giving her a comforting hug, patting her back.

The sound of a man clearing his throat drew her misting eyes to the doorway, where she saw Dennis, standing there in his work scrubs. She knew this didn't look good. All she'd done lately was make excuses as to why she couldn't see him, and now he had made a surprise appearance at the worst possible moment. She extracted herself from Jake's arms and glared at him as she felt him hang on a moment longer than he should have.

“Am I…interrupting anything?” Dennis asked, a sour note to the question.

“Oh, Dennis, of course not! Come in, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart?
both men thought.

Dennis entered the room just as Charlene began to walk across to welcome him with the appropriate kiss. “We finally cleared that custody case off the books—and it all happened to revolve around a little girl who's dying.” She pecked his cheek and sniffed. “I don't know what's the matter with me. I'm a basket case. I'll cry over every little thing these days.”

She looked at Jake, but held Dennis's hand. “Tell Meredith to call me if she has any problems. Mean
while, I'll call the lawyer and tell him he'd better warn his clients to behave, for the sake of the little girls.”

“Thanks, Charlie. Do your stuff,” Jake said. He made to leave, but as he was to pass Dennis he felt short of stature. And like a simple laborer in his wrinkled shirt, worn leather jacket, while Dennis wore scrubs. Dennis, who had
two
degrees. And he acted smart about everything, while Jake knew one thing: police work. That he was good at it didn't really cut any grass right now because even though he'd had the good woman in his bed just recently, Dennis of the two degrees seemed to have her
concern.
“How you doin', Denny?” he asked. He loved the way Dennis blinked in irritation when Jake called him that.

“Good, Jake. Yourself?”

“Never been better, pal.”

And out the door he went, feeling like a loser, but acting like a cocky guy who couldn't care less. It was not an easy act.

When Jake was gone, Charlene fell against Dennis's chest, and his arms automatically held her, gave comfort. She mumbled against him, “Can you forgive me?”

“There's nothing to forgive, Charlene….”

“Oh, but there is. I've completely neglected you. Jake's gotten more of my time than you have, and that's just unforgivable.” She pulled back and looked up at him. “It was just business, but that's over now. I hope.”

“It's been a very stressful few weeks.”

“And this morning I took Peaches and Stephanie
downtown where we had papers drawn up for conservatorship based on incompetency. Peaches turned her life over. Dennis, she was so brave about it, but…”

“It was the right thing to do,” he said, stroking her back gently. “We really have to talk, Charlene. It's important.”

There is a tone that a man or woman uses that imparts the news better than the news itself, and Dennis had that tone. That
deadly
tone. Oh no, she thought, panic settling over her. “Dennis, I know I haven't taken enough responsibility for the wedding, but if you'll just give me another chance, I promise you—” She held on to him tightly, pressing her head against his chest.

“Listen to you,” he said. “I want you to stop worrying about that. I'm not upset about that.”

“You sound upset. There's something in your tone of voice…”

“Let's slow down. You need less to worry about. Take some time.”

She pulled away just enough to look into his eyes. It was unmistakable. She was losing him. “You must think I don't want to get married, when I was the one who asked you.”

“Now seems not really the time. Wouldn't you agree?”

“Agree to what?”

“We should probably postpone our plans.”

She could read it on his face—if she'd give him just the slightest chance, he'd tell her he'd reconsidered. He didn't want to get married. Her common sense was
saying walk away. Every instinct was telling her that marrying Dennis now was the worst possible idea, and maybe she shouldn't marry him ever. But instead of paying attention to these signals, she was overcome with guilt. She'd done him wrong. And fear. If she didn't have Dennis, would she ever have stability in her life? “I'm sorry. I know life has been complicated. Confusing. But I want us to get married, especially because of that. It's the only thing I'm sure of.”

“I've never heard you talk like this,” he said.

“Dennis, let's have dinner together tonight. Someplace quiet and dark. Where we can talk. Please?”

“I can't,” he said, shaking his head. “I have to pull a double shift. Things are pretty backed up in the E.R.”

“Tonight? Can't you—”

“Can't help it, Charlene. But I wanted to see you to tell you. Seems like there have been a lot of phoned-in excuses lately, and—”

“Tomorrow?” she asked.

“That might work. I'll call you,” he said.

“Should I cook? Would that be better?”

“Sure,” he said. He kissed her on the cheek, and out the door he went.

It's all wrong, she thought. He wants out. It's over and he's having trouble with the words. And I can't let him go.

 

Pam was packing up her briefcase at 9:00 p.m. The days were getting harder, longer and lonelier. There had been no more little notes or gifts or surprise din
ners. She had gone and done it—driven him away. He had finally gotten the message that she didn't want to be courted by him. And now she was miserable.

Maybe he just had some time off, she thought, so she asked the guard at the security desk on the ground floor. “Hi, Ed. I haven't seen Ray Vogel around lately. Is he on vacation or something?”

BOOK: The Wedding Party
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ads

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