Dance, The (The Restoration Series Book #1): A Novel (29 page)

 54 

O
ver the next six days, Marilyn was able to shift her full attention from hurricane matters to Michele’s wedding. Tomorrow was the big day. In two hours, she and Michele would be leaving their house on Elderberry Lane and returning to Riverfront Park for the wedding rehearsal.

The park had sustained some damage in the storm. A few trees had fallen; quite a lot more sun now came in through openings created by fallen limbs. But there had been minimal flooding, and all of it had receded by Tuesday. City workers had the park all cleaned up and ready to go by this morning. The only setback was the gazebo. Half the shingles on one side of the roof had blown off. As of this morning, to Michele’s horror, a blue tarp had been placed over the damaged area to keep future rain from making things worse.

Marilyn had persuaded the park supervisor to let them take the tarp off until after the wedding. The weather was predicted to be clear and sunny all through the weekend. She’d promised they’d replace the tarp before they left the park tomorrow and headed to the reception hall.

She and Michele had just left the park after spending the afternoon putting up decorations. They were driving back to Elderberry Lane to get ready for the rehearsal and the dinner after. “It doesn’t look bad,” Marilyn said. “The gazebo roof, I mean. Really, you can hardly tell there’s any damage.”

“From the front,” Michele said.

“That’s the view that matters most, Michele. It could have been so much worse.”

“I know. I’m okay with it. It was just so perfect before. Now half the crowd is going to be sitting in the sun.” One side of the park had suffered far more tree damage than the other.

“But it’ll be fine,” Marilyn said. “It won’t be in their faces that time of day, and the temperature isn’t supposed to get higher than the low eighties tomorrow.”

“You’re right,” Michele said as they pulled into the driveway and waited for the garage door to open. “It’s just . . . there’s still so much left to do.”

Marilyn put the car in park. “Michele, it’s time to let everything go. You’ve been working on this wedding for weeks and weeks. It’s all coming together wonderfully. Everyone’s doing what they’re supposed to do. Everything will happen the way it’s supposed to happen. And if it doesn’t, we’ll make some memories we can all laugh about down the road. It’s time for you to shut the Michele-machine down and start enjoying yourself. Just be the bride.”

Michele smiled. “You’re right.” They got out of the car. “Allan said almost the exact same thing.”

“See? God knew I wouldn’t be around to keep you on track once you left home, so he picked Allan.” They walked through the garage and then through the laundry room as the door rumbled and closed behind them. After they stepped into the
house and set their things on the counter, Michele asked, “How does it feel to be home? Are you used to it yet?”

“Almost, but I really liked that little apartment I shared with Charlotte.”

“It’s a shame she couldn’t come to the wedding,” Michele said. “She seems like a nice lady.”

“She is,” Marilyn said. “We’re going to stay friends, even if I don’t move back in with her.” The hurricane had left most of Charlotte’s furniture alone, but one of the side windows had broken, and the rain had destroyed the carpet. Charlotte had decided not to stay in a motel while she waited for the repairs. Instead she took a two-week vacation to Boston to visit her son.

Michele’s expression changed. “Does that mean you might be getting back with Dad soon?”

“I don’t know where we’re at, to be honest. I’m just taking it one day at a time.” They walked through the living area into the master bedroom suite.

“I’ve seen some changes in Dad. Since you left, I mean. Not at first, but in the last several weeks. I’m not sure what it is exactly, but he seems . . . nicer. Less tense.”

Marilyn had noticed that last weekend during the hurricane. Earlier, Michele had asked about how their time had gone. Marilyn had told her most of what happened but for some reason left out the part about Jim’s big apology moment. She was still trying to come to terms with it herself, unsure of whether Jim was sincere. He’d said some nice things, but did he really mean them or was he just saying all that to get her back? What if the changes he’d made were only superficial? What if she did come back, let things go back to the way they were, only to find herself getting stepped on all over again?

“What are you thinking?” Michele sat on the bed. “Are you
worried about tonight? How you and Dad will do at the rehearsal dinner?”

“Not really,” she said. “I’m sure your dad will behave. He’ll be the perfect gentleman. We’ll keep a polite distance, do what’s expected. He won’t make a scene.”

“I wasn’t thinking about that. Do you plan on having any fun? Are you going to be able to enjoy yourself tonight, with him right there?”

Marilyn thought a moment. “Yes. I’ll be fine. You’ve got us at separate tables, right?”

Michele made a face. “Yeah.”

“What?”

“I don’t know, it’s just so . . . strange. I never imagined this, the wedding finally being here, and you and Dad not being together. But I’m a big girl. It’s not a big deal.”

“You want me to sit at the same table with your father? Is it going to embarrass you if we don’t sit together?”

“No. Half my friends come from divorced parents.”

“Well, your father and I are not divorced.”

“I know, I’m just wondering what . . .” She didn’t seem to know how to say what she wanted to say.

“Wondering what?”

“What’s going to happen with you two? I kind of find it hard to believe that the two of you spent all that time together during Hurricane Harold and you didn’t talk.”

“We talked.”

“You said you watched some movies. Then the next day you both were just busy cleaning up the mess. Didn’t you guys talk at all about
you
? Where you’re at? Where your future’s headed? Nothing at all like that?”

Marilyn sighed. All week long, different things Jim had said
in his apology moment kept trying to find their way into her conscious mind, but she’d kept blocking them. Some of them were trying to surface now.

“What’s the matter, Mom? What aren’t you telling me?”

Marilyn breathed deeply, sat on the edge of the bed, and said, “Yes, we talked. Or rather, he talked and I listened. He tried to apologize, as best he could, I guess.” She began sharing things she remembered. “He told me how sorry he was for being too bossy and controlling. How he knew his actions must have hurt me a lot, but that he had never noticed my pain. He said he was sorry for that too. But I don’t know, it—” She started crying. So many memories over the years began to surface, things she didn’t want to remember. This was ridiculous. Why couldn’t she stop crying?

Michele grabbed a Kleenex box off the dresser and joined her on the bed. “I remember the way he used to talk to you, Mom. Like you were a child. And other times like you didn’t have a brain in your head. It made me so mad. I always wondered how you put up with it.”

Hearing this made Marilyn realize how wimpy she had been all those years. She wished she had been a better example to Michele. But it was also oddly comforting, hearing Michele talk this way. She had been able to see how wrong it was all on her own.

“Why didn’t you tell me all this before, when I asked you how your time with Dad went?” Michele asked gently.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I’ve been trying to stay strong all week and not let the things he said get to me.”

“What’s that mean, ‘get to you’?”

“To make me weak, so that I’ll come running back to him. What if he didn’t mean it? What if he just said all that because
he’s tired of living alone? I don’t want to go back to the way it was with your dad. Not now. Not when I’m finally free of it. It was horrible before, Michele. Just horrible.” Jim’s face appeared in her mind. That look he got. The one that accompanied a hundred lectures, a thousand cold stares. She started crying all over again.

Michele just let her. It went on for several minutes. Marilyn wasn’t sure how long she cried. When she regained her composure, Michele looked at her with tender eyes. “Mom, I don’t know why I’m saying this. You know I’ve been totally on your side the entire time, but . . .”

“What?”

“I’m thinking God may have really done something with Dad during this time. Something at a heart level. And I’m worried that you’ve become so bitter, you might not be able to see it. Don’t get me wrong, I really understand how you must be feeling because of Dad’s actions all these years. I don’t understand how you survived it. But . . .” She started tearing up herself and reached for a tissue. “I haven’t told you this. He asked me not to tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

“Remember when you suggested I ask Tom to stand in for Dad at the reception tomorrow, when it came time for the father-daughter dance? Because Dad would never be open to such a thing?” Marilyn nodded. “Well, you were wrong. Dad said yes.” Tears rolled down Michele’s cheeks. “Dad said he’d be honored to dance with me tomorrow, no matter how bad a dancer he is. He wants to do this for me. He called me his little girl.”

Marilyn could hardly believe it. Jim was going to dance?

Could it be possible? Could Jim really have changed?

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E
verything was set. The big moment had come. His daughter’s wedding.

She should be here any minute.

Jim was all dressed in his tux, standing in the shade by the front of the park, waiting for the cars carrying Michele and the bridesmaids to arrive. The ladies had all changed at the house; the park didn’t have any special room set aside for this, and public restrooms were out of the question.

He was so nervous, but he didn’t know why. The rehearsal last evening went smooth as silk. And his part was so easy. Walk slow, don’t trip, and say “Her mother and I do” when the pastor asks who gives this woman to be married to this man. What could be simpler? Then his job was done, until the reception.

Was that it? Was he nervous about dancing for the first time at the reception? He didn’t think so. By the sound of it, most of the steps he’d learned wouldn’t be called into action. At the rehearsal dinner last night, Michele had whispered to him, “Don’t worry about the dance. I picked a very slow song. And a short one.”

Was he nervous about Michele getting married, now that the moment had come? The idea of losing his little girl? His emotions were certainly stirring about this. Several times he fought back tears at the dinner, seeing her across the room with Allan. Scenes of her as a baby kept popping into view, then as a little girl, then as a teen. Like some Hallmark commercial. But it was real now. The little girl in the scenes was Michele. Even now, tears rushed to his eyes, and he blinked them back.

He looked down the aisle. The crowd was all here. There was the pastor and Allan. Standing next to him was his best man. Next to them stood Tom and Doug. The ushers were seating a handful of stragglers. He looked down the road in the direction the cars should be coming from. Still no sign of them.

He looked back at Allan. No, he wasn’t nervous about giving his little girl’s hand to this young man. Jim had more life experience than Allan, more knowledge about business and economics, but he didn’t have half the character and kindness he saw in Allan. Allan had made Michele extremely happy so far, and Jim was certain Allan would keep his vows and keep on trying to make her happy for the rest of their lives.

Jim looked back toward the street. There they were, the cars were coming. They pulled up to the curb. Out of the first car, the two bridesmaids popped out, laughing and talking. Jim looked to the second car. Marilyn got out first, from the passenger side. She looked at Jim, then at the backseat toward Michele and her maid of honor.

Jim tensed up. Instantly. He suddenly knew why he was so nervous.

It was Marilyn.

He’d talked to Uncle Henry about this nervousness yesterday morning. Uncle Henry said he thought it was Jim’s expectations.
They were all fired up, and they had no reason to be. Not yet anyway. Jim had said his apology last weekend during the hurricane. He’d meant every word. But Uncle Henry had told him almost exactly the same thing Audrey Windsor had.

“She needs time, Jim. Time for the Lord to work on her heart, and time to see you really mean the things you said. It’s not like there’s some kind of switch Marilyn can flip, and everything’s all better. Words don’t do it for a woman whose heart’s grown cold. Even nice words like you said. You’ve gotta be strong. If you meant all those things, then live ’em. Day after day. Trusting God to get through to her in his own way and time. Never give up doing what is right no matter how difficult things get.”

Michele’s car door opened. Jim walked over and spoke softly to Marilyn standing beside the car door. “May I?” he said. Marilyn looked at him, smiled briefly, then stepped to the side. Jim reached out his hand and helped Michele out of the car. Her maid of honor hurried around the back of the car and smoothed out her train on the grass.

As they began to walk, the music changed. “Mom, hurry,” Michele said. “You need to get over to the aisle for the seating of the moms.”

“Okay, I will.” She gave Michele one more quick hug and a peck on the cheek. “You look wonderful.” Tears filled her eyes. “My little girl. It’s finally here.”

“Go on,” Michele said, “or you’re going to get me started again.”

Jim looked at Marilyn. “You look amazing.”

“Thank you,” she said, forcing a smile.

Jim took a deep breath and followed Marilyn with his eyes as she walked away.
Patience. Give her space
. He turned and looked at his daughter standing before him. The bridesmaids hurried
over to their positions. A wave of emotion hit him like a gust of wind. His eyes filled with tears. “I’ve never seen a lovelier sight than what I’m seeing right now.” He reached down and gave her a strong hug.

“Don’t say another word,” she replied as they pulled away. “Or I’ll lose it completely.”

“All right, but—”

“Not another word, Dad. It took a long time to get this makeup right.”

Jim looked away toward the gathered crowd. Held out his arm for Michele to take and said, “Shall we?”

Marilyn stood by her seat in the front row. Everyone was standing now. The bride was coming down the aisle. She glanced over at Allan standing next to the pastor. His face was beaming. She looked at Michele, so beautiful. Michele’s eyes were fixed on one spot—Allan’s face.

Marilyn remembered that moment in her wedding. Everything else, every other person, had faded into the background. There was only Jim looking at her. The love in his eyes, the joy in his face, the anticipation of their life together about to begin.

She glanced at Jim now. His eyes were still looking at her, and her alone. But something different was in his eyes now. There was love there but also something else. What was it? Weakness, fear, longing?

She quickly looked away.

This wasn’t their time, it was Michele and Allan’s. She wasn’t going to let anything spoil this moment. Today, she was a mom, first and foremost. The mother of the bride. And a proud mom at that. How could she not be? Her daughter was
beautiful. They were the best of friends, and she was marrying a man who Marilyn was certain would treasure her long after this day.

Her eyes filled with tears—happy tears. Her baby was getting married.