The Knotty Bride (16 page)

“Oh, Balacienga!” Rupa holds up a dress with a lace bodice and simple flair skirt.

“Yes, he’s not a bad designer for being Spanish,” quips Anna.

Rupa returns the first dress to the rack and holds up another dress with a big, poofy tulle skirt. She makes a face; she is not a fan of the “poof.” Slowly, she fingers a third dress of ivory silk. Nope, she’s not a fan of it either, but when she spies the next dress, a soft smile forms on her lips. Thirty minutes later, she is standing in a crinkly, chiffon column gown in soft white. Nina, who is Berta’s tailor, quickly makes a few final adjustments.

“Ten minutes, ten minutes ladies,” one of Berta’s assistants is calling.

“Ten minutes?” Rupa replies in confusion, “Won’t I see Dario first, isn’t he going to apologize?”

“Rupa,” I say with my straightest face, “Don’t you think saying your wedding vows in the chapel of an ancient castle counts as an apology?”

There is a rap on the door, and the last of Berta’s helpers enters with a bouquet of cascading white orchids that trail all the way to the floor.

Rupa actually giggles. “A western wedding, just like in the movies. Who would have thought a girl from New Delhi would end up here?”

I know, who would have thought any of us would be here, doing such things.
Life is so full of twists and turns
, I think nostalgically. Then I disappear behind the makeshift room divider Berta set up for Rupa to try on dresses. Now it’s my turn to change. I brought an outfit just for this occasion, a sea foam-colored dress with matching high heels. (Turns out I am a fan of at least one variant of green. When I saw the dress in the
Cose Belle
boutique store in Arona, I had to have it.)

As soon as I’m ready, Berta throws a long cape around Rupa and we head out to the courtyard. Beads of sweat form on the bride’s brow, she’s so nervous. The fun of the western-style wedding is gone and she doesn’t know what to expect. After all, she hasn’t seen or talked to Dario in months.

I stare overhead at the strong sun. What a wonderful day to be married, but will this all go as planned, or will Rupa and Dario duke it out at their church wedding ceremony?

We reach the edge of the church and I’m sure I feel more nervous than Rupa. “Are they here?” I whisper anxiously to Berta. She confirms that Brandon and Dario are waiting inside the church. “Go on,” she whispers, as she bends down to adjust Rupa’s dress one last time, “Your groom awaits.”

Rupa and I step tentatively through the chapel door and it takes a moment before my eyes adjust. The only light comes from the shimmering votive candles on the altar. Thankfully, it looks like Berta was right, because standing there, waiting for his bride, is Dario in his nicest suit. As we walk up the short aisle closer to the groom-presumptive, I can see his expression. He’s as confused and worried as Rupa beside me.

Soon, the four of us are standing at the front of the church which is a typical small stone affair, with room for no more than forty people. It’s devoid of all decoration except for a bouquet of white orchids on the altar and a huge gold cross hanging on the wall. I glance around, the tiny church is packed with people, but it’s so dark in here, it’s impossible to make everyone out. In the front row to my left, I can see Uncle Tomasso and Aunt Alice sitting beside Luca and Matteo. On my right, I can see Carla and her husband, as well as Elenora. Francesca is here alone. She sits next to Signor Tacchini who seems to be talking her head off. Who the people are in the dark shadows to the back of the room, I have no idea. It’s impossible to make them out.

I hear the noise of a door opening somewhere in the shadows and a priest emerges. He’s dressed in thick white embroidered robes and wearing a miter on his head. When he steps into the candlelight, he asks Brandon if everything is ready. Brandon motions with his hand signaling the priest to wait. “We’re still waiting on one person,” he explains.

I think the plan is actually working, because as Dario eyes his beloved bride in her beautiful white dress, little tears spring to his eyes. Rupa’s a tough nut to crack, but even she seems moved by the whole event.

“Perche entriamo qui?” questions a shrill voice from the door. We turn to see Ada, Dario’s mother fighting with Berta, who is trying to lead her into the chapel by the arm. Ada flails about, pushing Berta away. With a clickity clack of her scuffed black shoes, she strides up to the altar and asks, “What’s going on here? I thought this was the wedding of a famous movie star. Why is Rupa in a wedding gown?”

It’s at that moment that everybody realizes they’ve all been duped. Rupa looks at Dario, and Dario stares at Ada and Ada glares at everybody.

“What is this?” she hisses, “I’ve been tricked. Is this a joke?” Anna rushes over and whispers something in her ear, but the old woman bats her away.

“Dario, explain yourself, now,” she hollers right in her son’s face.

Oh dear, this isn’t going as planned. Dario’s face registers exhaustion mixed with annoyance. I don’t think he can stand to argue with his mother anymore, and clearly she isn’t a romantic. The sight of her son and Rupa at the altar has only incensed her. By the redness in her cheeks, Ada is ready to explode.

“Please, dear lady, this is a house of God.” The priest smiles and she stops in her tracks. The priest’s words seem to have a solemn effect on the older woman, who then sits down quietly next to Uncle Tomasso.

“Ah, now,” the priest begins, turning first to Dario and then to Rupa. “May I proceed?” With shy smiles the bride and groom both nod.

“Wonderful,” the priest exclaims and claps his hands with enthusiasm, “Ladies and Gentlemen, we have a wedding!’’

There’s laughter and shouts and even a catcall from the audience. There’s such a sense of exuberance in the air that it takes the priest a few moments to settle everyone down before he begins. “And now, dear friends, we are gathered here today…”

*****

The rest ran smoothly. The wedding was thirty minutes long and by the end Ada had whipped out a handkerchief and was sniffling routinely.

By the time it was over, Rupa and Dario looked as if they didn’t much care about all their past troubles.

That’s when things became weird. Surreal weird. Because it was right after Rupa and Dario exchanged a small kiss and were pronounced married, that the priest said, “And now, is there anybody else here today who would like to get married?”

I looked around the church. What was this man talking about? Was he talking about Anna and Jason? Perhaps Brandon set it up for them to go through the motions of a western wedding too? For a moment all is quiet and then Brandon steps out from the second pew.

“I would like to, if the bride agrees.”

Brandon drops to his knees, right before me on the floor of the stone church. He rummages around in the pocket of his suit coat and pulls out a small box. Inside is a ring with a brilliant blue stone.

“What is this?” I ask in a daze.

Unable to contain their excitement, Luca and Matteo jump up and hurry over.

“Say yes, Mama! Say yes?” they sing.

“Will you marry me, Lily Bilbury?”

I can’t even speak. I can’t even process what is happening.

“Will you marry me, today?” Brandon smiles.

I still don’t move.

Beside me Rupa begins to twitter and Dario is actually giggling.

“What is going on,” I stammer.

“Go on,” Rupa insists. “Say yes. This isn’t just my wedding day. It’s yours too,” she adds with a confident wink.

I stood there still as stone. So Rupa had been acting all along? All along this had been a trick to get
me
to the church?

I glance down at Brandon. He’s still beaming at me as if he has just made me an offer I can’t refuse, but to tell you the truth, I’m not so sure. I feel confused and a little hurt. I wasn’t expecting any of this. I don’t reach down to take the ring, nor do my lips move to mutter the words “yes.”

I mean if Brandon wanted to marry me, why didn’t he just ask?

“Go ahead, dear,” a voice calls and I see my very own mother emerge from the shadows in the back of the church. “Go ahead, say yes.”

She is followed closely by my father, who looks as if he’s aged fifty years since I saw him last.

“Go onna! Lily! Marry Brandon!” Francesca urges in her best English.

I look down at Brandon and see his smile falter.

“Lily, I’m sorry for all the secrecy, but this is the only way I could keep the paparazzi at bay. If they knew we were engaged, there would have been a feeding frenzy. We would never be able to have this private moment with just our friends and family.”

What? Everyone at the church knows about this? My parents have flown in from Colorado for this? And yet he didn’t trust me to keep quiet? I don’t know, there’s something wrong with a groom not trusting his own bride.

“Mama, dai!” Luca urges, looking genuinely worried that I won’t say yes. He repeats his sentiment several times, insisting that I take the ring that Brandon holds out to me.

“Then the rack of dresses in the other room…” I venture.

“There’s another rack of dresses being set up just for you. Say yes, take this ring and go put on the wedding dress of your choosing.”

“B-but I don’t understand, this was for Rupa and Dario.”

Dario giggles again. I give him a disturbed look.

“Dario and Rupa reconciled a month ago,” Brandon says, speaking fast. “I called them out to the villa and told them about your plan to unite them in holy matrimony in front of Ada. They were so touched that they agreed to try marriage counselling, and they agreed to help me go through this whole charade to get you to the church.”

I eye Rupa. I can’t believe it.

“The only ones who didn’t know were you and Ada.”

Indeed, Ada can be heard wailing from the stone pew “Che diavolo stiamo facendo adesso?” which translates to “what in the devil’s name are we doing now?”

Still I don’t move. It’s as if I am frozen. I’m not happy at all.

Rupa leans in and whispers to me, “Our wedding today was real as far as Dario and I are concerned, and I think in her heart Ada enjoyed it too. I know my parents did.”

She speaks this last part very loudly and from out of the shadows emerge a half dozen Indians, all dressed up for this fine occasion.

“I-I can’t believe it. I don’t understand,” I keep repeating. Despite Brandon being on his knees in front of me, I don’t reach for the ring. I glance from Rupa to Brandon and back. Then I bolt. I head for the church door, dodging around my children, my parents and all of Rupa’s relatives.

“Runaway bride!” someone shouts in English. I think it might have been my dear old dad. I don’t care, I run.

It’s only when I get to my Punto, to see that someone has tied a bunch of tin cans to the back and written “Just Married” across its ugly rear window that I stop in my tracks.

“Lily? Lily?” Brandon comes racing after me. “Lily, I-I was trying to keep us shielded from the paparazzi.”

“You…you told me you weren’t the marrying type…”

By his miserable expression, I can tell he wants to reach out and pull me close.

“I-I wasn’t the marrying type for 38 years of my life. But since I’ve been with you, I have most definitely turned into the marrying type. It’s okay if you don’t want to marry me today. I didn’t mean to overwhelm you.”

“I-I can’t believe my parents are here!” I yell.

“Maybe you’re right, maybe I should have…”

“Told me… you should have told me! I can keep a secret, you know. I am not a blabbermouth.”

“You’re right, what was I thinking?” Brandon whispers looking as if he might be sick. “But there’s more than just wanting to keep the paparazzi at bay… I didn’t tell you…because…”

“Because you don’t trust me to keep quiet.”

He reels a bit as if I have just punched him. Clearly, this isn’t the reaction he was expecting.

“I didn’t tell you because I wanted to do something monumentally romantic.”

What did he say?

I stare at him, his face is a queasy green, but he’s dead serious. My eyes travel from him to the Punto with its strings of tin cans. For a second time in my life, I have an epiphany. For the second time in my life, I feel as if the world is swirling around me and I am moving out through the universe across time and space. Suddenly, all is clear. “Oh my God, what a fool I am. I’m so stupid,” I reach out to pull him close.

“I’ve been so stupid, can you forgive me?” I continue, my arms encircling. “Of course I want to marry you, right here, right now. Let’s go, let’s do this.”

******

Anna made them bring that beautiful vintage dress, the one I loved so much at
La Bella Sposa
.

I try not to cry when I see myself standing there in the mirror. The dress is so gorgeous it makes me feel like I’m floating on cloud nine. Unfortunately, the vintage dress is the only thing Anna got right. None of the wedding shoes sent over from the shop fit.

“It’s okay, no one will see them under the dress,” Berta says as I pull my green heels back on.

“Lily, I tried to describe the bouquet you wanted to the florist and this is what she came up with,” Anna adds sheepishly. She pulls out a bouquet that doesn’t look anything like the ivory tulips and pale pink roses I wanted. This bouquet is vivid reds and yellows with a bright green ribbon. It looks like something a clown wood carry.

“It’s awful, I know, I don’t know what went wrong,” murmurs Anna.

“I’ll give you the cascading orchid bouquet that was made for me if you prefer?” Rupa holds out her bouquet.

“I don’t care,” I say and snatch the clown bouquet out of Anna’s hands. On fire to get married, I race out of the side room heading for the chapel. I step through the entrance and motion wildly for my dad, who hurries over.

“You look beautiful,” he whispers.

“You too.” I stare back at him, all decked out in a fine black suit for my wedding. “I’m so glad you’re here, on my wedding day,” I whisper before I practically drag him up the aisle as I hasten to reach Brandon. Before the priest can even start, I shout, “I do! Absolutely, one-hundred percent. Brandon Logon, I do thee wed.”