A Family for Christmas (4 page)

Lydia
stiffened slightly, feeling immediately defensive at what was clearly a
reproach, however mild and casual his tone.

“What
did I do?” She’d called him “old,” but it didn’t sound like that was what he
was referring to.

“You
appeared happier to see Micah than you were to be with me.” He wasn’t looking
at her. He was watching Ellie walk in front of them.

“Oh.”
Lydia thought about that, realizing he was right. She had been happy to see
Micah and Alice, since they were friends, familiar, comfortable. Nothing at all
like Gabe.

“Especially
since you used to be with Micah.”

Lydia
sucked in a surprised breath and looked up to scan Gabe’s face. He’d sounded
almost jealous.

But
he definitely had a point about her needing to treat him more like a future
husband. “Sorry,” she said. “This is new. And strange.”

“I
know.” His face, when she checked, looked natural again. He never revealed very
much, but he didn’t appear to be unhappy with her anymore.

“I’ll
do better.”

She
felt guilty and rattled as they walked through the parking lot, but she
comforted herself with the thought that this in-between time wouldn’t last very
long.

Soon
she’d leave it all behind her. Soon she’d be who she wanted to be.

***

Two weekends later, just
after Thanksgiving, Gabe and Lydia were moving her stuff into the house.

She’d
been living with her parents since she graduated from law school, so she didn’t
actually have all that much stuff. She had her clothes and her incidentals,
plus a few pieces of furniture.

Gabe
had professional movers move him from Raleigh, but they were doing Lydia’s
stuff on their own.

Ellie
was with her grandparents for the day, which was a good thing. Even given the
minimal amount of Lydia’s belongings, neither she nor Gabe were in very good
moods as they carried her favorite chair upstairs into the bedroom that would
be hers in the house.

“Damn
it,” Gabe muttered. “You need to keep walking.”

“I’m
trying.” She felt like she was holding the whole weight of the chair, although
she knew it wasn’t true. “Slow down a little.”

He
was in front, and she was behind, and unfortunately the stairs were old and rather
steep.

“Do
you have it?” he asked, shifting somehow in a way that took some of the weight
of the chair off Lydia.

“I
have it.” She mostly had it, although the chair was so wide that she couldn’t
get a good grip on it.

“Do
you have it?” he asked again, as he started ascending the stairs.

“I
have it!”

The
man really was the bossiest, most frustrating man in the world.

“Do
you have it?” he asked again, as they neared the top of the stairs.

Lydia’s
arms were shaking, and she could barely see through the perspiration. He was
moving fast now, and she couldn’t keep up.

“Wait!”
she cried, when she felt the chair slipping from her arms. “I don’t have it.”

He
made a growling sound as he stopped, crouching down to keep hold of the chair
as it lowered quickly to the stairs after it slipped from Lydia’s grip.

“I’m
sorry,” she said, keeping the chair from falling down the stairs with her body.
She panted and tried to summon her energy and coordination again. “You were
moving too fast.”

He
gave her a narrow-eyed look over the chair. “You said you had it.”

“I
had it until you moved too fast.”

He
took a few deep breaths, his expression changing as he looked at her. “Are you
okay?”

She
straightened up, realizing he thought she was too feeble to carry the chair.
“I’m fine. I’m ready. Let’s get going again.”

So
they hefted the chair back up and managed to get it into the corner of her room
where she wanted it.

They’d
agreed they wouldn’t be sharing a bedroom. They shouldn’t have very many
visitors up on the second floor of the house, and if someone noticed, they
could find an excuse.

Lydia
was fully prepared to announce to one and all that Gabe snored like a freight
train.

When
they got the chair in place, Lydia collapsed on the bare mattress of her bed,
feeling like she’d been through a war.

“I
told you I could have had the movers get your stuff.”

“I
know. But it wasn’t all packed last week, and I don’t have that much stuff. The
chair was the worst.”

Gabe
was wearing jeans and a t-shirt, and as she watched, he lifted the bottom of
his t-shirt to wipe the sweat off his face. She couldn’t help but catch a
glimpse of his flat belly before he let the shirt drop again.

He
really had a very good body. Very good shoulders. Very good abs. Very good
arms.

Lydia
got up from the bed quickly and told herself to get a grip.

Her
back caught, and she winced slightly.

“Are
you okay?” he asked, a little gruffly, as she leaned over to stretch out her
back.

“Yeah.
I’m fine. I’m not going to fall apart from carrying a chair upstairs, you know.
I’m in pretty good shape.”

She
wasn’t built like a model, but she was tall with long limbs, and she liked to run
and swim.

“I
know you’re in good shape.”

His
voice sounded strange again, so she glanced over at him as she straightened up.
He was eyeing her body.

She
was suddenly conscious of both her body and his. She’d been wearing an
oversized hoodie earlier, but she’d taken it off when she’d gotten hot, so now
she just had on a pair of leggings and a t-shirt that wasn’t quite long enough.

She
recognized something in his expression, in his tense stance, that gave her a
shiver of excitement.

He’d
told her that sex was a standing offer, and she was suddenly picturing what it
might be like for him to take her to bed.

She’d
never had sex before, since she’d always been committed to waiting until
marriage. In the last year or so, she’d been starting to wonder if she’d remain
a virgin all her life. She hadn’t thought that would be all that bad.

She
wasn’t sure why, ever since she’d met Gabe, she’d started thinking so much
about sex.

After
a minute, she turned away from him abruptly, worried that he might recognize
what she was thinking.

This
marriage wasn’t for her to indulge in sex. It was for her to get over to India.

That
was what was most important. These unexpected feelings for Gabe definitely
weren’t.

Lydia stared at herself in
the mirror, wondering if the reflection was really her in the wedding dress.

She
had a fairly large circle of friends, so she’d been part of a lot of weddings,
and she’d seen many brides who—in an effort to look as beautiful as possible on
their wedding day—ended up with hair, make-up, and dress that made them look
like an entirely different person.

Maybe
that was the point, but she’d always secretly thought some of them would have
looked better and prettier if they’d toned it down and looked more like
themselves.

Her
hair was hanging down around her shoulders, and she didn’t have on a lot of makeup.
If it hadn’t been for the dress, she could have been ready to start any other
day.

Instead,
she was getting married in an hour.

“Are
you sure you don’t want to do something else with your hair?” asked Martha
Hendricks, the wife of one the church elders and self-appointed wedding
organizer.

Lydia
liked the woman just fine—despite her busybody qualities—but she wouldn’t have
invited her to the wedding if her mother hadn’t insisted.

“It’s
good this way. I don’t like it to look too fancy or unnatural.” Her hair glowed
red and was hanging in a shiny fall to her shoulders. “I don’t want a big
fuss.”

“You
look beautiful,” her mother said, coming over to stand near her and inspecting
Lydia in the mirror. “I’m so glad you chose that dress.”

Lydia
would have chosen a much simpler dress, but her mother was so excited about the
wedding, and Lydia didn’t like to disappoint her. The dress she’d ended up with
had wide straps, a fitted waist, and a full skirt—with ruffles on the neckline
and big flounces down the skirt. It wasn’t too over-the-top, but Lydia still
felt a little strange in it.

“Maybe
a little more lipstick, dear,” Martha said, coming toward her with the tube.

Lydia
jerked away slightly and had to bite her lip to keep from saying something rude
to the older woman, whom she’d known all her life.

“Martha,”
Lydia’s mother said, “maybe you could go out and check on Ellie and Mia—to make
sure they’re ready to go.”

This
suggestion pleased everyone, since it gave Martha a way to be helpful and also
got her out of the room.

“You
don’t need any more lipstick,” her mother said with a smile, when Martha had
left. “You look beautiful.”

“Well,
I look like myself, and I guess that’s all I can expect.” Lydia smiled, to make
sure her mom knew the self-deprecation was teasing.

“Of
course, it is. And it’s all that Gabe will want.”

Lydia
didn’t have a response to that comment.

“I
can’t believe you’re not even nervous,” her mom said.

“Why
would I be nervous?”

“Most
women are, for one reason or another. But you’re as cool as a cucumber, as
always.”

Lydia
wondered, if she’d been marrying a man she loved, whether she’d be all fluttery
and jittery like most of the brides she’d known. She couldn’t even imagine. As
it was, she mostly wanted to get this day over with—get these next few months
over with—so she could get over to India and get started. “This is what I want,
so I’m not sure why I’d be nervous about it.”

Her
mother was about to say something when Lydia’s phone chirped with a text. She
glanced over at her purse in surprise—somehow not expecting to get any messages
on her wedding day—but she walked over to pull the phone out to check.

It
was Gabe, who was just in another room of the church.
Everything good?

She
raised her eyebrows as she tapped out her response.
Of course. Why wouldn’t
it be?

Just
checking. No second thoughts?

Not
from me. What about you?

Not
from me either.

This
is what I want.

Me
too.

Good.

Okay.
See you out there.

Despite
herself, she almost giggled at his last text. It was nice that he was double-checking.
He was a really nice guy.

“That
must be from Gabe,” her mom said. “I’d recognize that expression anywhere.”

Lydia
dropped her eyes and felt her cheeks redden.

“No
need to be embarrassed,” her mom said with another smile.

She
hadn’t been embarrassed about being caught with soft feelings, but because her
mom had so drastically misunderstood. She shook off the reaction, though, since
it didn’t really matter.

“You’re
not nervous about…about tonight, are you?” Her mom looked a little
self-conscious as she fussed with Lydia’s skirt.

Lydia
hid a smile. Her mother didn’t like to talk about sex, but she was clearly
making an effort now in case her daughter needed it. “I’m twenty-seven, Mom.
I’m pretty sure I know how things work.”

“I
know. I was just making sure. I just hope that you…It’s easy to expect too
much, and then to be disappointed, and I don’t want that to happen with you.”

Lydia
was surprised by this stilted admission, and she turned to meet her mom’s eyes.
“Why would I be disappointed? Gabe is…” She trailed off, not sure what exactly
Gabe was.

“Oh,
I’m sure Gabe is wonderful. That’s not the point. It’s that girls now seem to
have all these over-inflated views of what sex is—fed by books and stories and
all that—like it’s going to transport them to some alternate reality. And then,
when it gets down to it, it’s still just you. And him. And sometimes it’s good,
and sometimes it’s something you do because you love the other person, and occasionally
it blows you away, but you’re always going to be just you, and he’s always
going to be just him. In bed and out of it.”

The
words rang true to Lydia—and she knew they were hard for her mother to say—so
she didn’t brush them aside or laugh them off. Her mother didn’t know that she
wasn’t planning to have sex with Gabe, and she was being a good mother—as she’d
always been. “Thanks, Mom.”

Her
mother gave her a one-armed hug that wouldn’t wrinkle her dress. “I’m so happy
for you, dear. I used to worry…but I’m so happy for you.”

Lydia
returned the hug, but when she pulled away, she asked, “What did you worry
about?”

“Nothing
big. You were always so together, and you always knew what you wanted. That’s a
good thing. I’m so proud of you.” Her mother cleared her throat before she
continued, “I see a lot of girls living their lives like they’re in a
holding-pattern before marriage. Like only when they find their man will they
truly begin to live. You were never like that. But sometimes I wondered if, instead
of marriage, you were doing the same thing with your work in India. It’s a good
thing. It’s such a good thing. But I wondered if you were just putting life on
hold before you got there. But I was wrong. You’re obviously not. And now
you’re going to have a husband and a step-daughter, and I’m so happy for you.”

Her
mother hugged her again, obviously overwhelmed with feeling, and Lydia hugged
back. Because she was her mother. And because she loved her.

But
she really wanted to pull away.

The
marriage was going to be real—based on love or not—but it suddenly felt like
there was something about it that was a lie.

***

Lydia hadn’t been nervous
about the wedding at all—not once. And she wasn’t nervous when she left the
Sunday school room that was acting as the dressing room and went to stand in
the narthex.

There
were only thirty-two people attending the wedding, but she was still going to
process, with Ellie and Mia as the flower girls, so her mother wouldn’t be
disappointed.

Lydia
had two older brothers who had already gotten married—although Thomas was now separated
from his wife. He approached her now, holding Mia’s hand.

He
gave her a smile. “You don’t look too bad.”

Thomas
had always been super-smart and super-ambitious. After years of medical school
and residencies, they’d all expected him to take some hot-shot position as a
surgeon at a major hospital. Instead, he’d moved back to the area last year so
he could be closer to Mia, and he worked at the local hospital.

He
was six years older than her, and they were closer now than they’d been growing
up.

“You
don’t look too bad either,” she told him. “And, Mia, you look beautiful.”

“Thank
you.” Mia pushed her little glasses up her nose and held her long dress out for
all to admire.

“You
sure about this?” Thomas asked softly.

Lydia
wasn’t sure if he suspected something was atypical with her marriage or not,
but she told him the truth either way. “Yes. I’m sure.”

She
was sure, but was also starting to feel a little shaky as Martha fussed with
her dress and she heard the music changing the sanctuary.

It
was so strange—because she was never shaky like that.

The
feeling had come out of nowhere, but Lydia was suddenly chilly with something
akin to nerves.

“Are
you excited, Ellie?” she asked, trying to distract herself when she realized
her hands were actually trembling as she held her bouquet.

Ellie
looked adorable in her white dress and red satin sash, tied in a decorative
knot at the back. But she wasn’t smiling as she waited silently for her time to
process. “I know how to hold my flowers,” she said.

That
wasn’t what she’d asked her, but Lydia didn’t object. Her ears were starting to
roar as she heard the wedding anthem begin. “You’ll hold them perfectly, I’m
sure,” she managed to say, before Martha shushed her and hurried Ellie and Mia over
to the aisle.

Lydia
was shaking for real as she watched the girls begin to walk. And she was still
shaking as she started down the aisle herself, stared at by the smiling faces
of her family and Gabe’s family—with Gabe himself waiting for her at the end of
the aisle, dressed in an expensive black suit, his expression thoughtful and
sober.

She
didn’t stop trembling through the readings and hymn and homily and vows. Her
voice was a little wobbly as she said, “I do.”

Her
hand shook as she exchanged rings with Gabe, and she was still shaky as they
were pronounced husband and wife.

She
was trembling so helplessly as she and Gabe walked up the aisle together
afterwards that she knew he had to see it.

They
ended up back in the dressing room—with Martha, Ellie, and Mia. Gabe reached
out for her and pulled her close in what looked like a hug, but he asked in a
low murmur, “Are you okay?”

“Yes,”
she said, trying to smile at him.

“You
look like you’re about to lose it.”

“I
know.” His arm was tight around her, and she felt like she needed his strength,
so she pressed herself against him. She said in a voice as soft as his had
been, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I wasn’t even nervous. This isn’t
like me at all.”

Gabe
pulled away slightly so he could look down at her face. His blue eyes were
suddenly questioning. “You’re not regretting it already, are you?”

“No!”
The response was a little sharper than she’d intended, so she softened it. “I’m
not regretting anything. I’m really fine.”

The
question had disappeared from his face, and his arms tightened around her
again. “You’re still shaking.”

“I
know.” She buried her face against his jacket, clinging to him in an attempt to
pull herself together.

She
was never like this. She was never weak and shaky. She was never overly
emotional.

Everyone
always said she was the most practical, competent person they’d ever met, and
marriage certainly wouldn’t have changed her.

She
knew Gabe had just pulled her into the embrace so he could have a private
conversation with her while the others were in the room, but it felt now like
he was supporting her.

She
kind of liked the feeling.

“Daddy?”
a voice came from behind her.

Gabe
pulled away and looked down on his daughter, who had moved over to stand near
them. “Hi, sweetheart. You looked beautiful and held your flowers perfectly.”

“Thank
you. Are you done hugging her now?”

“Yes,”
he said, with a low chuckle, reaching down for his daughter. “Now I can hug
you.”

He
hugged the little girl in a tight grip, and the feeling between them was
obvious. Lydia felt cold and still trembly, after having lost the embrace, but
she wasn’t about to complain.

She
needed Gabe to get to India. She didn’t need him in any other way.

***

They had a small
reception at the church, and then Lydia and Gabe drove to Asheville while Ellie
went to stay with her grandparents.

Gabe
and Lydia were going to spend the weekend in a historic inn in Asheville.
Everyone expected them to have a honeymoon, and this was the most
low-maintenance thing they could think of.