The Jeweler (23 page)

He placed a ring in her palm.
The
ring. Fender was so tired of looking at it. Her hands shook.

“Don’t drop it.” He spoke softly to her. This was the part where she was reminded about her old love and how Fender was a big, fat liar. He tried again to think of some sort of prayer.

“It’s awfully big.” She didn’t say anything else. Fender noticed tears falling into her hands.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” He put a hand on her shoulder.

“Sure it is. There’s nothing wrong with it. I’m glad I finally got to see it.”

Fender felt nauseated, seeing her cry like this. “I’m sorry it makes you so sad. I wish you could’ve been his wife.”

“You don’t understand. I’m sad that Brad’s gone. He was a good man.” He heard the rasp of tears in her throat. “But you’ll hate me for this.” She took a deep breath. “I’m relieved.”

“Relieved?” He tried not to sound too hopeful.

“I’m ashamed, because if he’d been all right, I’d be married to him, probably. But I didn’t…We weren’t…He wasn’t the one for me.” She paused, swallowing hard.

Fender resisted the urge to smile.

“I didn’t want to marry him, Fender. I loved him, but he wasn’t the right person for me.”

It was all he could do not to jump up and down.
Things are still serious. Things could still go south. Focus on her!

She continued. “The man died on the street, and all I can think is how I feel like I avoided something bad—avoided living a life that wasn’t right for me. I feel relieved.” She sat down on the grass, quiet.

Yes!
Joy rolled through Fender. He saw hope flittering above him. Maybe this was going to work. “I have something else to give you, then. Close your eyes one more time.” He hustled back to the two cages.

She spoke to him as he checked on the dove, back in its cage. “I just want to be completely honest. Please don’t think I’m a bad person.”

“Yeah?” The dove was trying to peck his finger. Fender tried to get back to the moment.
Focus on her, idiot!

“If Brad picked this ring, it just tells me I was right, that he didn’t really know who I was. It’s very beautiful, but it’s not me.”

Fender wanted to cackle with glee. He’d never cackled before, but he wanted to. “Keep your eyes closed. I want to give you that other thing.” Fender opened the door to the second cage. Inside was a bunny. He’d told Sam the whole plywood-rabbit-ski-lesson story, and Sam felt this was the “crowning glory” of the plan. Give her something from the heart, with its own furry accompaniment: a bunny.

Fender reached into the cage. The rabbit, probably sensing his inherent evil, shied away from him, flattening down in the back of the cage. Fender pulled the jewelry box out of his pocket. Give her another ring, one for your love, Sam had suggested. But Fender knew, as soon as Sam had said that, what was right. Fender cared about only one piece of jewelry in the whole world. One that actually had meaning—and not just as a means of buying someone off or accomplishing a goal. It sat in the box in front of him right now. According to Sam’s plan, it was supposed to go around the neck of the bunny that was currently hanging on to the inside of the cage with every fiber of its bunny being.

“Stop being shy! It’s time for your big number, bunny.” Fender reached into the cage slowly. “You are the grand finale here, Mister Hare.” The bunny skittered to the opposite corner of the cage, still out of reach. Fender lost his patience. “Let’s go, Bugs.” He made a swipe at the scruff of the bunny’s neck.

Mister Hare was not amused. Its white head swiveled around and suddenly, the sweet-symbol-of-love bunny was the killer rabbit. It sunk its teeth into the flesh of Fender’s hand.

It was everything he could do not to scream in utter agony. But somehow, he withdrew his hand from the cage and closed the door, suffering in silence.

Time for Plan B. He picked up the cage with the bunny in it, made sure the jewelry box was sitting on top, and went back to Ginger.

She sat on the grass, eyes still closed, waiting patiently. Fender touched her arm.

“Open your eyes.”

She did as she was told, and Fender held up the cage.

“A rabbit?”

“It’s a hare. A March hare, in fact.” The little rabbit sat very still, its nose twitching.
Now
it was all sweet and demure.

“Like the one on the cat track.”

“Yeah, like the one I plowed over. I hoped you’d remember. I’d take it out of the cage, but apparently it has an attitude.” Fender held up his chewed-on hand as evidence.

Ginger looked curious. “What’s he got?”

Fender picked up the box on the top of the cage and pulled out its contents. “Again, all of this is Sam’s idea if you don’t like it.” He took the object out of the box. “This was supposed to be around the neck of Cujo there, but in the interest of safety, here you go.”

It was a slender gold chain. At its bottom was a small emerald, suspended. It was a deep green, sparkling in its simple setting.

“It was my mother’s.” Fender waited for her reaction.

“What’s this for? It’s so beautiful.” Ginger put it around her neck and touched the emerald, hanging at the hollow between her collarbones.

He sat down, close to her, taking the emerald in his hand. “That is for you. For making me notice why it’s good to be here. Why I’m willing to make an ass of myself over and over again just to be with you. For the only reason life makes any sense at all. Why I don’t ever want to be without you, and why I want to throw up because I’m afraid of what you might say next.”

Ginger looked like she was going to say something, but she started to cry.

“Ginger Stevens, I love you.” Fender took her by both shoulders and kissed her with the intensity and passion and love of an optimist. The best part was, Ginger kissed him back.

“W
E’RE
G
ONNA
B
E
L
ATE
, and they’ll kill the both of us. You can’t have a wedding without the best man.” Fender gripped the dash in front of him. Ginger’s driving scared him.

“I’m hustling as fast as I can. We’re just about at the parking lot.” She pushed the little white car up the hill to the ski resort. Though spring had come to the valley again, snow lingered in the mountains.

Fender felt carsick. He tried to loosen the tie around his neck. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d worn a tie. Actually, when he thought about it, it’d probably been to the funeral, on his mission to find Ginger. That was the first time he’d seen her, a year and a half ago.

The stuff I do for this girl, I swear.

Oh, but to look at her, it was a dream. It all was.

Here he sat, next to her. She was a vision. He could puke from the car ride up the mountain, but still. He couldn’t believe she was his, her strawberry hair pulled up in a twisty bun in the back—a style that probably had some name he didn’t know. She wore pinkish sparkly lipstick on those full, wet lips, and she had a white parka pulled tight around her slim, pale neck. Those lips, that neck, they got him thinking.

“I could kiss you right now.” He said it out loud. She’d turned him into a sap.

“What?” She turned to look at him and smiled wide.

“Car!” He pushed both feet into the passenger-side floor, fake-braking with all his might.

A black SUV had come to a sudden stop in front of them, and they were about to be on the bumper, smashed to a small cube of metal and bodies.

“Oh, God!” Ginger jerked the car to the right and somehow squeezed it between the black SUV and an old Ford truck parked up tight to the guard rail. Fender jumped as the side mirror next to him snapped off.

She didn’t stop until they’d threaded the needle and made it the last hundred yards into the parking lot.

“Jesus!” His hands shook.

She pulled into a spot and turned off the engine. “That was close.”

Fender shook his head. “Close?” He pointed a shaky finger out his window. “You have no side mirror over here. You shaved it off. I think my sideburn on this side is shorter now.”

Ginger buried her face in her hands and laughed loud. “Oh, crap! I don’t know where that came from, but I didn’t have time to stop. We would’ve smashed into the back of them.”

“You’re Mario Andretti all of a sudden. Stunt driver. Unbelievable, woman.” He looked at her, her head back now, looking up at the ceiling of the car, laughing with an open mouth.

She was beautiful.

“C’mon, Danica, let’s go to a wedding.” He got out of the car.

She came around to his side, and they stood and looked at the hole where the side mirror used to go.

She took his hand and squeezed. “Looks like the stump of Luke’s hand in
The Empire Strikes Back
.”

“I thought that was in
Jedi
.” He led her across the parking lot to the lodge, around mounds of snow pushed up to the ends of the rows of parked cars.

“Ask Sam tonight. He’ll know.” She clung to him. “Why didn’t I just wear my snow boots? This is ridiculous.”

“Because you wanted to make the bride happy, and she asked you to wear those shoes.”

“Stupid heels.”

“Once the reception starts in the lodge, you’ll be fine.” He looked forward to the part where she took off the parka.

“There they are.” She squinted as the late-afternoon sun bounced off the snow. “I can’t run. They’re just going to have to wait for a minute.”

Fender smiled. “Come here. I’ll piggy back you.”

Ginger shook her head. “I’ve got a dress on.” She pointed to the silver satin poking out from the bottom of her parka.

“It’s long enough. C’mon.”

She obliged, and he felt her wrap his arms around his neck. “If you drop me, I’ll kill you just before I die of embarrassment.” The hair on his neck prickled under the warmth of her breath.

“Quiet.” He hustled them over to the group of people, all clustered around an arch fashioned out of pine boughs and white flowers. He was supposed to be standing to the left of that arch with the groom. “How late are we?”

“Enough to be in trouble.” They came up to the deck outside of the lodge, and Ginger slipped off his back on to the bricks.

“You two! Where have you been?” Pop hurried up to them.

“Pop, we just about died. Don’t scold.” Fender adjusted his tie nervously.

“This is a wedding. Everyone’s waiting.” Pop took a minute to smile at Ginger. “You look beautiful, darling. A vision.” He turned back to Fender and snarled. “Next time I need a best man, I’m asking Sam.”

“Next time?” Fender followed his father to the front.

“It’s just an expression. Come meet Reverend McDaniel.”

Fender shook hands with the minister and turned to look at the group of people gathered for the wedding.

Fiona and Pop, getting married. Who woulda thought it? I didn’t.
He fidgeted.
Where’s Ginger?
He scanned the groom’s side of the aisle. Sam waved from the front row, sitting next to Molly. They were bundled together in a big plaid blanket. He couldn’t even tell what they were wearing. Knowing Sam, he had his Carhartts on.

There she was. His girl. Standing at the back of the gathering, by the doors to the lodge, Ginger pulled her white parka close to her in the chill of the cooling evening. The stars would be out soon. Ginger glowed—her face pink with the chill and hair up off her neck. The way she stood tall, the way her eyes shined—she stood out, a diamond sparkling in the mountain dusk.

We could get married, I guess.
He laughed out loud.
That didn’t take long to occur to me.

“Fender? Can you focus, please? My bride’s about to come down the aisle.” Pop straightened his shoulders.

“Sorry, Pop. I’m so happy for you.” Fender put an arm around him, and they watched as Ginger opened the door from the lodge for Fiona to make her entrance.

The dark-haired woman came out with a wide smile on her face. She wore a white gown with a fur cape.
Fake fur, of course. Hipster girl can’t offend anyone.
Fender checked himself.
Be nice. Pop loves her; she loves him. So what if she wears red patent-leather Doc Martens?

Fiona came down the aisle, and Pop’s eyes glistened with tears. Fender couldn’t help but smile at the ceremony. He really was happy for his father. Pop and Fiona exchanged vows and rings, which, incidentally, looked damned good because Fender had designed and made them himself.

The whole time, though, Fender fought to pay attention to the action in front of him, because what he really wanted to do was stare at Ginger.

The reverend presented the newlywed couple to the crowd of friends, and everyone followed Fiona and Pop into the lodge.

“Time for you to catch the garter, my friend!” Sam clapped Fender on the back. If he’d been wearing Carhartts outside, he’d peeled them off. He now wore a flannel shirt and a clean pair of pants.

“Glad you bathed for the occasion. Where’s Molly?” Fender scanned the crowd, though he was really looking for Ginger.

“She’s helping at the bar. Your pop practically lives in a bar, you know. There’s a lot of people here with high drink expectations.”

“Reception would’ve been better at the Rendezvous.”

“Have some standards, Fender. Even Pop knows better than that.”

Fender nodded absently, and then he saw her.

Ginger walked over to them. She’d shed her white parka and wore a slim slip of a silver dress. The neck was high across her collarbones.

“Hey, look at you!” Sam whistled. She dipped her head shyly.

“Don’t be shy. You look gorgeous.” Fender pulled her to him.

“You guys didn’t see the back.” Ginger twirled around for them.

The dressed dipped, hanging low off her shoulders in a drape that revealed a long length of pale, smooth back.

Fender swallowed hard. “When do we leave?”

When Ginger turned back around, her cheeks were pink, but she grinned. “I take it you like?”

He kissed her. “I like.”

Sam coughed. “Still here, next to you people. Keep it PG, Fender.”

He took Ginger by the hand and led her toward the dance floor. “And when do you ever follow your own advice, Sammy boy?” he called back to his friend. “We’ll see you later.”

Then he was on the dance floor with his girl in his arms, holding her close.

“This is much better,” he whispered in her ear, keeping his lips close to her sweet skin.

“I agree.”

He took a step back and held her by both hands. “Ginger Stevens?”

“Yes?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

She looked puzzled for a minute, but nodded and answered quietly. “Yes, Fender Barnes, you can.”

He took a deep breath. “Can I drive home?”

She kissed him hard, grinned, and smacked his arm. “Yes. You can. Now kiss me, you goof.”

Fender kissed his girl, and all was right with the world.