THAT MAN 5 (The Wedding Story-Part 2) (13 page)

Before I could blink, the two women were at each other like two Siamese fighting fish. Hissing. Shrieking. Clawing. Gnawing. My eyes stayed wide as Enid ferociously tore apart the shoulder fabric of Helen’s stunning dress. This hiss of the splitting silk sent goose bumps to my skin. Helen retaliated with a kick to her adversary’s shin.

“I’m going to deduct the cost of this dress from your bill,” hissed Helen, now tearing at Enid’s blouse while she bent down to nurse her leg. The pearl buttons popped off and—ping, ping, ping—landed close to my feet. The dueling divas continued with Enid getting the better of poor Helen after punching her hard in the gut. I’d had enough. Adrenaline pumping through my blood despite my horrible pain, I aimed my weighty jeweled bouquet at Enid and flung it like a grenade. It flew through the air and BINGO! It got her smack in the head. With a moan, she spiraled downward onto the floor. With a triumphant smile, Helen gave me a thumbs up. Her expression then contorted into one of utter disgust as she glowered at defeated Enid.

“Get up and get out of here.” My soon-to-be mother-in-law’s gruff voice was fueled by rage. “And don’t you ever step foot on my property again. Security will escort you to the front gate.”

Dazed, Enid staggered to her feet. Another voice at the doorway caught my attention. Monique. “Oh my God. My dress!” Her startled eyes darted from Helen to Enid. Panic-driven, she flitted to her disheveled, unsteady partner. “Enid, darling, what’s going on here? Are you okay?”

Rubbing the back of her head, recovering Enid pinched her Botoxed face so hard a crease curled between her brows. But before she could say a word, Helen lashed again at her.

“And you can take your
girlfriend
with you.”
Holy cow! Helen already knew.

Enid turned crimson. Pursing her lips, she breathed loudly in and out from her nose. Her fists clenched so tightly her knuckles turned white. Finally, her mouth parted.

“Monique, darling, we’re no longer needed here. Let’s go.” She hooked her arm into the crook of her lover’s elbow. Questions begging answers danced in Monique’s eyes, but she held them back. The two women stalked to the door. At the doorway, Enid turned her head and smiled wickedly. She gave Helen the evil eye.

“You and that wannabe daughter-in-law of yours will be sorry.” Her icy gaze shifted to me. “Blake will never be yours, you peasant.”

Her hurtful words sent a shiver up my spine. At the same time, a sharp pang stabbed my gut. I clenched my stomach and suppressed a wince as Enid and Monique slipped away. Helen took me in her arms. “Don’t let her get to you, my dear. You are perfect for Blake. I’m so thrilled you’re going to be my daughter-in-law. And you must absolutely promise to be on my softball team. I need a backup pitcher.”

“Sure, Helen,” I murmured, grateful that this incredible woman had come to my rescue. Her warm embrace was interrupted by a familiar welcomed voice.

“Honey!”

Mom! I spun around. There they were. My beloved parents. My mother, dressed in a lovely oyster white suit, and my dad in a dapper English-style morning suit. A massive brace encased his right leg, and he was holding a spiffy cane that complemented his suit beautifully. My heart swelled with happiness. Tears of joy flooded my eyes. My mother broke away from my dad and sprinted to me. He limped behind her.

“Oh, Mom, I’m so glad you’re here,” I said tearfully as she gave me a maternal hug—something I’d been craving for so long. My dad was next. It felt so good to be in his arms. He smiled broadly. “I told you I was going to walk my little girl down the aisle.” And here he was. He looked so handsome to me, leg brace and all.

“You look beautiful, Jennie,” he said with a proud smile.

No, I don’t
. But his heartfelt words made me
feel
beautiful. And that was all that mattered.

My mother, with her discerning eyes, studied me. “Honey, are you all right? You look faint.” My perceptive mother knew me well.

“I have a little bit of a bug.” My alarmist mother immediately put her hand to my forehead. “I’m taking Advil. I’ll be okay.” Truthfully, now that my parents were here, everything was okay. Nothing could keep me from my wedding day.

“Where’s Father Murphy?”

“He’s in the backyard conferring with the Bernsteins’ rabbi.”

I quirked a smile. All was good.

Relaxing, my mother beamed. “Everything looks so beautiful. And guess what! I saw George Clooney and Hillary Clinton!”

My star-struck mom. I loved her so much. As for me, the only stars that mattered at my star-studded wedding were Blake…and my parents. They were here. Here at last!

Helen interjected. “I’m going to leave the three of you alone while I freshen up and change into another gown.” She hugged my parents. “I’m so thrilled you made it. I’ll meet you shortly along with the others in the wedding party on the veranda. The wedding of the century is about to begin.”

Blake

T
hank fucking God, Jennifer’s parents arrived safely and just in time. Standing under the shell-encrusted
chuppah
beside my best man, Jaime, and surrounded by members of the wedding party, I faced our thousand-plus guests. So many famous faces. And so many I didn’t recognize. My parents’ social connections could not be rivaled. Photographers were scattered everywhere, taking photos with their flash cameras. Overhead, helicopters circled the dark gray sky. News crews were trying to get the scoop on the Hollywood wedding of the century. For sure, it would be a featured story on tonight’s newscasts, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to tune in. Dressed in my tux, I waited anxiously for my bride. I hadn’t seen her since early afternoon.

“The Wedding March” began to play. Enid had managed to install an elaborate organ—the kind you saw at Radio City Music Hall—in our backyard along with a state-of-the-art sound system. The music reverberated in my ear. To be honest, that’s not the music my tiger had wanted to walk down the aisle. She had hoped to walk down to
our
song: “The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face.” But Enid insisted that be our first dance song. The bitch, we’d decided, was just not worth fighting. So we compromised.

My eyes stayed glued on the veranda. Where was she? My heart hammered. Finally, a vision in white appeared on the arm of her dapper father. My tiger. My bride. My wife-to-be. She met my gaze, and a small smile curled on her lips.

The walk to the
chuppah
was a long one. And Jen walked very slowly down the winding path with her still disabled father. One baby step at a time. While Harold was beaming, her smile looked forced, her face pinched. My poor baby! I knew she felt like shit and hoped she’d taken another Advil. And I knew she wasn’t thrilled about her wedding gown, but to me it was beautiful. And she was beautiful. Every eye was on her as she made her way down the aisle. Cameras and cell phones flashed.

The minutes felt like hours. As she took hesitant steps, she occasionally turned her head to acknowledge our guests. My eyes never strayed from her, and when she met my gaze, they silently told her everything was going to be all right. And that I loved her. Mind, body, and soul.

Overwhelmed with tingly emotion I’d never felt before, I just wanted her beside me. And actually thought about sweeping her off her feet and carrying her to the altar. I wanted to say our vows like it was yesterday and exchange those two magical words, “I do.” We just had to get through tonight. Tomorrow, we would be on our way to the secret honeymoon destination I’d painstakingly arranged. I couldn’t wait to be lying on a beach and making glorious love to my new wife on the day I turned thirty.

Jennifer

W
alking down the aisle, I clung to my father’s arm as if it were my lifeline. Because at this very moment, it was.

Intense pain chipped away at me. Like an ax to my abdomen. I seriously felt like I was going to die.

Only one other person kept me going—Blake.
That
man who would soon be my husband. My beautiful hero, looking so handsome in his tux under a canopy of seashells and flowers. His smile and his eyes pointed at me.

Dad and I walked slowly down the aisle, each step a small victory. With my constricting gown and his leg brace, we were a perfect match. In my other hand, I held my heavy bouquet, now missing some seashells and beads. And in his, his cane.

As I took tiny steps down the aisle, I tried to acknowledge our guests. I looked left and right and then back at Blake, whose loving gaze gave me the courage to continue.

I was an emotional and physical mess. A mixture of nerves, chills, and pain. My strapless mermaid gown was not suited for the chilly December air. Goose bumps popped along my bare arms and my teeth chattered.

Just walk and breathe. And try to smile, I told myself.
You can do it
. I forced a small smile on my face and took in the sea of people in front of whom we were going to say our vows. But truthfully, I was treading water. Barely staying afloat. I was truly not sure I was going to make it to the altar. My father, God bless him, held me steady. I met Blake’s loving gaze once more, and a sudden rush of wet heat puddled between my legs. A rush like I’ve never felt before.

The walk down the aisle felt like an eternity. But I made it. Dad proudly took his place beside my radiant mom, and Blake took me in his arms. I heard him whisper, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” I whispered back. We turned to face Rabbi Silverstein and Father Murphy.

The ceremony began. Blake clasped my free hand. His so warm, mine so icy cold. It was difficult to hear what our officiants were saying. Helicopters were hovering overhead, and the chattering of my teeth filled my ears. And then halfway through it, Blake did something so unexpected. He took off his tux jacket and gently placed it over my shoulders. I heard our guests go “ooh.” Oh my Blake! My gallant Blake. But neither his hand nor his jacket could warm me up. Or make the excruciating pain go away.

The alternating words of Rabbi Silverstein and Father Murphy drifted into one ear and out the other. Whatever viral infection I’d contracted was consuming me. Another sharp spasm ripped through my body. Of all days to fall ill! I squeezed Blake’s hand and bit down on my bottom lip to suppress a wince. And then another spasm and another. They grew relentless. Managing to hold on to the bouquet, I clutched my belly. A concerned Blake looked my way while our officiates continued the service.

I should have been savoring every word, but they couldn’t come fast enough. We finally said our vows. With the loud chop-chop-chop of the helicopters above and my voice a mere whisper, I could barely hear myself. And Blake’s sacred words were likewise washed out.

Lastly…finally… the exchange of our “I do’s” and wedding bands. The latter were tied to aqua velvet pillows Marcy’s eager twins were holding.

“Do you, Blake Adam Burns, take Jennifer Leigh McCoy to be your lawful wedded wife?” were the words I was longing to hear. But to my surprise, old-fashioned Father Murphy turned to the attendants and thundered, “If anyone here has any objections to this couple getting married, let them speak now or forever hold your peace.”

“Yes! I do,” a familiar sharp voice shouted out.

Shocked, I pivoted around. Oh my God! It was Kat! Standing up in the back of the crowd in a high-necked white goddess gown. What was she doing here? Her venomous eyes met mine and then another sharp, unbearable pain stabbed me. I clasped my lower abdomen and warm wetness met my hand. I glanced down and gasped. A rapidly expanding crimson pool was seeping through my gown.

I can’t really tell you what happened next. Just this.

I heard my mother’s panicked voice. “Oh, dear Lord!”

Then Grandma’s.
“Oy vey iz mir!”

And then, as I felt my knees buckle, I heard Blake shout out, “Someone call 911!”

He caught me in his arms and then everything went black.

Blake

M
y father always said: “The only thing you can ever expect in life is the unexpected.” I just didn’t expect this.

I was sitting in the back of a racing ambulance, the siren blaring in my ears. Thank God, my sister Marcy was with me or I think I would have totally lost it. My heart was in my throat and my breathing was shallow. My sister squeezed my hand while my eyes stayed locked on my beautiful unconscious bride. The paramedics had told us she’d lost a lot of blood and was likely still bleeding internally. Hooked up to a portable IV and an oxygen tank, she was wrapped in a heavy blanket, which at least spared me the agony of seeing her blood-soaked wedding gown.

Foreboding thoughts bombarded me. At the top: Was I going to lose my tiger? If Kat had anything to with this, I was going to have her committed. The image of her smirking at me as I ran past her with my fallen bride in my arms flickered in my head. What the hell was she doing there? I could only surmise she flew back from Rio, and her equally mental, devious mother put her on the guest list. Without a doubt, she was still determined to stop me from marrying Jen. The sick bitch was out for blood, and I wouldn’t put it past her to go as far as murder. I shuddered.

“Are you okay, Blake?” My sister’s soft words cut into my dark thoughts.

I shook my head. “Marcy, I’m scared shitless.” I searched her eyes for a sign that everything would be all right.

“Blake, I’m going to stay with her. We’re going to do a CAT scan and go from there. Stay calm.”

A KAT scan was more like it. To make sure the psycho hadn’t laced my baby’s veins with poison. Or stabbed her.

Fifteen agonizing minutes later, we pulled up to a private entrance to Cedars-Sinai Medical Center. We were given special treatment partly because my sister was a respected doctor there, heading up the OB/GYN department, but mostly because my family had donated enough money to have a wing named for them. My breath hitched painfully in my throat as I watched the paramedics transfer my beauty to a gurney in record speed. To my absolute horror, she began to convulse. Her tiny body was bucking up and down.