Cancel the Wedding (15 page)

His face was completely still but he seemed to pause longer than was customary before answering. “It was Elliott. He referred to your family as the Huntley Rutledges when he introduced us at the marina.”

“Oh, right. I suppose he did.”

Logan piped up. “Can I ask you a question, Mr. Bryant?” He raised his eyebrows, waiting. “Your golf course is right by my grandmother's old property. How long have you owned that? I'm just wondering because we read an article about this little church that was on the disputed line between the Rutledges and the Forrests. Do you know anything about that? Or anything about the old church that used to be there?”

Emory responded without actually answering her question. “That dispute was never really settled. The property line was delineated by a stream that apparently used to change course frequently when it would flood.”

I asked, “So when, exactly, did you buy the property?”

Emory kept talking, ignoring me. “I actually donated that parcel of land where your mother's house was to the historical society to create a buffer between the Forrests' property and my golf course.”

I said, “You didn't want a Hatfield-McCoy feud on your hands either?”

He looked at me pointedly. “I didn't want anyone making false claims on the property that I spent a lifetime creating for my family.”

Elliott returned and Emory took that as his cue to leave. When he was gone Logan said, “That guy makes me nervous. He's like super intense.”

Elliott shrugged it off. “He's not technically supposed to be in the Reading Room. Maybe it made him seem a little off.”

I moved over to the table and helped Elliott pack up our things. “Emory's not a Stag? You mean there's a club in this town where he's not a member?”

Elliott answered, “You have to be a bachelor when you're put up for the Stags and he was already married when he became a member of the club.”

Logan closed the door and looked visibly relieved to know that she was safe from Emory. She let out a breath and said, “Super creepy dude.”

We were all three quiet as Elliott drove us back to Tillman from the Fells. I would imagine we all had our own reasons for the silence. We pulled up to the inn and Logan hopped out. I made a show of collecting my things so that I could have a minute alone with Elliott.

He smiled at me and said, “I'm sorry I have to leave town so suddenly. But I need to go take care of this. I'll call you as soon as I get home.”

“You don't need to explain anything to me.” I had a feeling he was heading off to answer that ringing telephone. But what was he planning to say to her? “We'll um, I mean Logan and I, we'll just see you when you get back.”

He nodded and smiled. Then we sat there for a second unsure whether to hug or kiss or high five. I just laughed at myself and waved dumbly and then climbed out of the car.

I caught up to Logan and we made plans for lunch. She was chattering away endlessly while I pushed the food around my plate. We meandered through the town, stopping in a few shops. I bought a scented candle for Betty Chatham as a thank-you gift for the books she had given me. When we got back to the inn Logan went up to take a nap. I found a secluded bench off the town square and sat there, thinking.

It was an hour before I finally dialed Leo. When he answered I could tell he was busy; he was pacing in some faraway office in San Francisco or Silicon Valley. I wasn't even sure where these meetings were taking place. I could hear his shoes tap over a hardwood floor then disappear onto lush carpet before turning around and retracing the journey.

I was hoping he would spare some time. “I can tell you're in the middle of something. I hear you pacing. I just, I thought we should talk . . . about everything that's going on.”

Papers were being shuffled and flipped. “I know, Livie. I want you to tell me how it's going but I'm really pressed right now. Why don't you send me an e-mail later and flesh it out for me. Send me some more pictures of that church you found.”

An e-mail? Seriously? I said, “It was a cemetery at my mom's house, not a church.”

“Right. Listen, I'm sorry but I have to run.”

“Leo, we really need to talk.”

“Olivia”—when he used my full name I knew he was getting irritated—“you're down there with no schedule and no deadlines and you want to chat, but try to be respectful of my time.” That was a line he had cribbed from the therapist we used to go to. It was one of his favorites and he used it all the time. “I'm doing real work today and I'm about ten minutes away from having to deliver some bad news to these people. I can't talk right now. I will call you later.” Click.

Another half hour went by before I dialed Georgia. She answered without a greeting, as we always did with each other. “Is Lo with you? I can't find the remote for the movie thing in the car and I need it for—”

I cut her off. “She's not with me.”

“You sound weird. Are you okay?”

The words all just spilled out of me. “I honestly don't know. I'm feeling confused about a lot of things. I'm . . . I'm having a hard time thinking about Leo. And marriage. I just don't know if this is the right thing for us. And I keep calling to talk to him but we can't even have a conversation about today let alone get far enough along to talk about the future.”

“What are you saying? Are you thinking about canceling the wedding again? Because I honestly don't think he'll handle that very well.”

“Oh my God, how many times do I have to tell you people I did
not
cancel the wedding last time? Mom got sick. She was dying! It wasn't a great time for a party.”

“Don't yell at me! You did postpone it. I'm not saying it wasn't for a good reason, but don't rewrite history. I'm just reminding you how excited Leo was when he booked the chapel; that's all.”

“I know. It worked out so nicely, tucked in there between the end of the Feldman case and the firm's trip to Kauai. So perfect!”

“You sound like a lunatic. What is going on?”

“It's a long story.”

“So start at the beginning. And don't cry; you're an ugly crier.”

That made me laugh and cry at the same time. I started telling her everything I had experienced with the burned-out house and the strange reality of the drowned town. I told her what it felt like to be standing in the family graveyard. And about the ties to a vanished family we had never known about. I wondered, out loud, if Leo and I should really go through with this wedding.

Georgia said, “You're practically married anyway. The wedding is just a formality, a celebration. With jewelry.”

“Not funny, Gigi.” I wondered if things would change, get better, once we were married. But when he surprised me with the date and had booked the chapel it sent me reeling. Instead of feeling excitement or relief at having the date looming I went into a panic and fled. I knew that was a bad reaction. I just had to figure out what it meant. “I don't think we should get married just because it's what comes next. If it's not right we shouldn't go through with it.”

“How long have you been feeling like this?”

“I don't know. A while.” I could pinpoint it to the day we canceled our therapy session because he had the draft for his Fantasy Baseball team. It wasn't the draft that bothered me; it was the fact that we were going to a therapist and we weren't even married yet.

Georgia was using her most calming mother voice with me at this point. “You'll be back in a few days. You can talk to him when you get home.”

“Actually, I'm thinking of staying longer. I want to stay down here until Mom's birthday when we scatter the ashes.”

Her calm demeanor vanished. “Olivia, that's weeks away. You can't hide out down there and avoid your life.”

I shook my head, as if she could see me. “I'm not avoiding it. I'm trying to understand it. I want to stay here. I want to find out about Mom. I'm not ready to leave.” And here comes the kicker. “And I think I might have a tiny crush on Elliott.”

Georgia sounded baffled. “You mean the old newspaper guy?”

I got up off the bench and started to wander the streets of Tillman. “Did I give you the impression he was old?”

“Yes, you did. Deliberately.”

“Actually, he's my age. Well a year older.”

“Olivia.”

“What?”

“Really? You can have a crush, but that's it. You can't act on it. And if you're having this many second thoughts about Leo then you need to talk to him.”

“I've been trying to talk to him. I tried for weeks before I left. I've been calling him since I got here. I even asked him to come down here, but he's busy.”

She was silent on the other end for a long time. Finally she said, “Do you think it's just you? I mean just what you're going through with everything about Mom because you took that really hard. Or do you think it's really that you're not happy with Leo?”

That was the million-dollar question, wasn't it? “Losing Mom was horrible and seeing everything down here has been unsettling but . . . I don't think that's it. I really just wonder if I'm supposed to be with Leo at all. I just need some space to figure out if this is real or if I'm just—”

“Completely nuts.”

“Thanks, Georgia. That's very understanding of you.”

“Look, I just think if you do this to Leo it will be awful. Awful for him, awful for you, awful for us. He's been a part of our family for a long time. He knew Mom and Dad. But no matter how awful it is, if it's what you need to do . . . then I'll stand by you. Of course.”

I was crying again. “Thanks.”

“Feel better?”

“No.”

“I'm sorry, sweetie. I know this is hard. But you know I'm on your side. Whatever you decide.”

“Thanks. I know.”

“And you know you sound like an idiot, at your age, saying you have a crush on this guy, right?” I could feel her doing air quotes around the word “crush.”

“Yes, but thanks again for spelling it out for me and making me feel stupid.”

She felt bad for scolding me. “I'm not trying to make you feel stupid, but try to remember how bad it was when Leo had a crush on that girl at work.”

She knows we don't talk about that. “I can't believe you brought that up.”

She paused for a second and then her voice got tight; she was getting to what she thought was the real problem here. “You know, not everyone gets to have what Mom and Dad had. That was just special. You shouldn't think that because you and Leo are different that it's not good enough.”

That was meant to make me feel better. It didn't really work. “I'll call you later, Gigi.”

I thought back to when our mom got sick and I decided to postpone the wedding that first time. When I told my mother my plan she was not pleased. We had been digging through her attic in search of my sister's wedding veil when I broke the news to her that I felt like we should wait on the wedding. She paused for a minute then got right back to work finding the veil.

My mother dug down to the bottom of one of the cedar chests tucked under the dusty eaves of the roof. “Livie, don't delay your life because I'm sick. If you love Leo then get married, have children, or adopt a dog, whatever. Live your life.”

I held the lid of the chest up while she pulled out old Raggedy Ann dolls and Girl Scout uniforms. “Mom, I just don't want to have to deal with a wedding, with a giant party, right now.”

“He's a good man. He's very, what's a good word for him . . . stable. And he loves you. Ah-ha! I found it.” She pulled out the enormous piece of tulle, folded and wrapped in tissue. She snapped it out to its full length.

“Stable? That makes him sound like a Chevy.”

She cocked her head to the side, which told me not to make light of a serious conversation. “Do you love him, Livie? That's all you need to know. If you love him and you need him then get married. Start living. Don't wait for it, not because of me.”

“I don't
need
him. I mean I don't need anyone to take care of me.” I lowered the lid of the chest and stood my ground with her.

My mother took me by the hand guiding me to an old cracked mirror leaning against a rafter. She stood behind me putting the airy veil on my head, testing different positions. She said, “It's not a weakness, Olivia.” She kept trying to pat down the voluminous veil to make it lie more flat. “It's a good thing to need and to be needed in life. You should need him so much that without him you can't breathe.”

All of my instincts recoiled. How weak a person do you have to be to need another person in order to breathe? “I don't need someone to rescue me like that, Mom.”

She shook her head the way she always did when I didn't understand something. “Olivia, I loved your father, but he never rescued me from anything. I rescued myself. You don't need someone to hold you up, but you could use someone to hold your hand. I was holding my breath for a long time before I met your dad and when he came into my life, well, I could breathe again.”

She and I both stared in the mirror at our reflection. I had always looked so much like her, just a younger version with lighter hair. But now she was losing weight and had an unnaturally pale pallor to her skin. Now we resembled a before and after ad.

“What does that mean, Mom? I wish you'd tell us some of these things you keep hidden.” I was never good at pushing her for answers, even before she became frail and sick, but I could feel our time running out.

She put her hands on my shoulders. “I really miss your dad.” There were tears in her eyes, which made me feel horrible for pushing her, even ever so slightly. “There will always be things you can't know about a person and that has to be okay. But I loved your father. I never once questioned it. I was supposed to find him . . . after everything.” She stopped herself from saying more. “If you love Leo that way, if you need him and want to be with him, then let's do this.”