The Marriage Pact (1) (32 page)

She
made a pallet on her bedroom floor for them and they went together to the
bathroom to remove one another’s dripping clothes. They laughed at their
ridiculousness, and then tried to stifle the giggles to keep from waking
Suzanne, which only made them laugh more. They ran naked from the hallway bath
to her room like streakers.

Marci
couldn’t remember being happier at any other point in her life. She could
scarcely believe that just a couple of hours earlier, she had been afraid of
losing Jake forever. Now he was lying naked in front of her on a beach towel on
her bedroom floor, tracing the line from her neck down her shoulders to her fingertips
and back. Electrified at his touch, she shivered and looked into his eyes,
where the laughter had faded completely.

Everything
that had had happened in the last several weeks—Doug, the hotel, the rings,
Jake’s dad, the hospital, Rebecca—seemed to intensify the energy between them.
As Jake reached to pull her close to him, Marci knew that things had changed
forever.

She
awoke to the usual sound of her alarm, but from far away. Between the tangle of
towels entwined with all her limbs and Jake’s arms locked tightly around her,
it took her a couple of minutes to get to the buzzer. By the time she did,
Suzanne was calling at the door. “Wake up, lovebirds! Time to get ready for
work!”

Jake
groaned on the floor and rolled over, grabbing Marci’s ankle and pulling her
down as she tried to pass him. “Don’t go,” he begged. “Call in sick. Let’s stay
here all day and make love. I think I can promise you at least two more times
before lunch.”

“You’ve
got to be kidding,” she said, and kissed him dismissively before wrestling
free. “I think five times in twelve hours is more than either of us can handle.
Besides, I can’t miss work until after this project gets evaluated.”

He
let go, reluctantly. “Well, at least promise me I can take you to dinner
tonight.”

“Done,”
she acceded, and tiptoed into the hallway toward the shower, wrapped in a loud
pink beach towel covered in orange flowers. She threw Jake’s still-damp clothes
from the night before at him, and he muttered something about hoping he still
had some dry boxers in a drawer around here somewhere, assuming Marci hadn’t
gotten so pissed that she’d thrown them out. When she came back from her
shower, he was gone.

She
looked for her engagement ring as she got ready for work, thinking it was safe
to put it back on after last night, and found that was missing, too. A slight
panic set in, even though she felt fairly positive that the ring had been there
the day before. She’d looked at it obsessively nearly every day for weeks.

Surely
Jake had picked it up, maybe to give it to her again tonight? She thought about
the alternatives, that she had somehow misplaced it without realizing, or that
someone had broken into the apartment without leaving any evidence and taken
nothing but that single piece of jewelry. This latter seemed particularly
unlikely given the extensive and pricey collection Suzanne kept in the next
room.

By
the time she got to work, the stress of the final preparations for the project
had sucked her in completely. She had no time to leave the office for lunch or
even return phone calls, much less to ponder the mystery of her missing ring.
In any case, her mood was too deliciously good to let worry of any sort bring
her down. She was particularly gracious and encouraging with her team, and
approved everyone’s creative suggestions, even the ones that would have made
her nervous the day before. This seemed to make the team happy, if a bit
confused.

So
even though the pressure was on and the pace hectic, everyone’s spirits were
elevated and cheerful all day. It was as though the whole team had enjoyed a
long night of great sex, not just Marci alone. The other teams, feeling the
pressure and experiencing lots of infighting and struggling for power, sent
resentful glares their way whenever the members met in the art department or
the copy room. This only bolstered their mood and solidified their team
identity.

By
the end of the day, she was exhausted and starving but deliriously happy. She
grabbed a granola bar and banana while she changed clothes and waited for Jake.
He picked her up at 7:00, kissing her affectionately and being very secretive
about his plans. He wore a blazer and tie, though, which made her glad she’d
opted for a cocktail dress and put her mind at ease about the missing ring, particularly
because she thought she saw him wink at Suzanne on their way out the door. A
single red rose waited on the passenger seat for her when she got in the car.
At some point in her life, she would’ve thought this gesture was trite and
unnecessary, but tonight it felt sweet and special and wonderful.

They
ate at an upscale steakhouse on the edge of Buckhead. Dinner was delicious by
candlelight, and Marci found herself struggling to make normal conversation as
she waited for something to happen any moment. Jake was wonderful and sweet and
the whole evening was romantic, perfect for a real proposal. Looking back, she
realized that their first engagement had been based on an evolving, awkward
agreement, rather than a question publicly asked and answered. She had never
known that she wanted a traditional proposal—that she
needed
it, in
fact—until tonight. Now that it was here, or at least, she felt pretty sure
this was it, it felt more than right.

As
they finished dinner, she inhaled deeply whenever the waitress came to the
table, expecting a champagne glass or piece of cake with a ring inside, or
maybe a cue for the solo violinist wandering the restaurant to appear to set
the scene. Periodically she checked her makeup in a tiny mirror, thinking that
all eyes in the restaurant would soon be on her and wanting to look perfect for
her moment in the spotlight. But the proposal never came.

Jake
paid the check, held the door for her, and kept his arm around her while the
valet retrieved his truck. The cool evening was warmed by his touch, and it
felt wonderful to be close to him, but she couldn’t help but feel disappointed
that he hadn’t asked.
Had she misunderstood entirely?
Obviously she
couldn’t ask him about it, but the anticipation and concern were eating her alive.
He seemed not to notice, and remained smiling and calm. “Dessert?” he asked,
lifting her into the truck. She nodded and he grinned in response.

Wherever
they were going, it was somewhere off the beaten track. Jake had exited the
interstate in a familiar spot but soon veered into seemingly endless, winding
residential roads. Marci didn’t mind. He had his hand on her knee and there was
good music on the radio, so she didn’t care where they were heading.

It
was a complete surprise when Jake pulled the car into a very familiar driveway.
Marci had not been at the Stillwells’ house in weeks. She looked at Jake for an
explanation but he just smiled and stared straight ahead.

When
they stepped out of the car, she saw that there were luminarias flickering
along the front sidewalk, lighting their way. Jake took her hand and led her up
the path to the front door. Inside were more candles and soft music playing in
the great room down the hall. As they entered, she saw Robert, sitting up
respectably well in a wheelchair and wearing a suit just a bit too big with the
weight he’d lost since the stroke. Kitty was equally well-dressed, standing
with her hand on her husband’s shoulder, and the color had returned to her features.

When
Marci’s eyes swept the rest of the large room she gasped. Both her parents,
Leah and Dave, Suzanne, and Beth were all there. Her mother held up a cell
phone that Marci would soon learn had Nicole and Ravi on the other end.
Everyone was smiling. She turned to look at Jake in astonishment, and he sank
to one knee as she did. Little murmurs and sighs emanated from the room around
them.

“Marcella
Beatrice Thompson,” Jake said, his voice confident. Marci began to tremble with
nerves and excitement. “The first time I asked you this question, I didn’t go
about it very well. We kind of bucked tradition, didn’t we? Well, maybe we
learned that there are times when tradition matters. So tonight I’m here with a
ring, on one knee, to tell you that I love you, and to ask you in front of our
friends and family if you will do me the honor of becoming my wife. Marci, will
you marry me?”

For
a minute the words wouldn’t come. All she could do was nod and cover her mouth
with her hands. Eventually she squeaked, “Yes,” and the room erupted in
applause. Jake stood and took her hands, putting his grandmother’s ring back on
her finger where it belonged. She could see had been freshly polished and
sparkled in the candlelight. Soon they were surrounded by hugs and tears and laughing,
and everything finally felt right.

Marci
stared at her reflection in an old wooden mirror, watching the chaos behind
her. They were in a small room off the upper chamber of Demosthenian Hall on
the North Quad, which smelled like old books and furniture polish. Suzanne
flitted around the musty room, pulling things out of boxes and making notations
on her clipboard. Her mother was steaming the last wrinkles out of Marci’s
dress and calling out advice to both Suzanne and Nicole, who wore matching blue
dresses.

Nicole’s
daughter Ayanna, now four months old, also wore a tiny version of the same
dress with matching bloomers. The dresses were lovely on the women, but against
Ayanna’s soft brown baby skin, the effect was gorgeous. The cuteness of this
was somewhat diminished by the fact that the baby was uncharacteristically
inconsolable. Normally a calm kid, she screamed no matter what Nicole
did—sitting, standing, walking, rocking, or singing. Nicole shushed her desperately
and kept throwing apologetic looks at Marci. “I think she’s teething. She won’t
be this way during the ceremony. I promise!”

“Don’t
worry about it,” Marci said. “She’s fine. Babies cry.”

“You
have no right to be so calm right now,” Suzanne said. “You are setting an
unfair standard for brides everywhere.”

Truthfully,
Marci was amazed at her own sense of tranquility. She knew that she was
supposed to be all keyed up about her wedding day, worried about the details,
nervous about the rest of her life, and so on. But she just didn’t feel any of
that. Even knowing that a couple hundred people were filling the University
Chapel next door did not weigh on her the way she had imagined it would.

It
helped that Suzanne had every last detail handled—from start to finish. This
wedding was the first she had agreed to plan in years, and she had gone to
great lengths to make sure Marci had a gorgeous event with absolutely nothing
to worry about. The Stillwells had contributed, too, by insisting on
underwriting the entire cost of the reception at their favorite hotel in
downtown Athens.

“Robert’s
stroke reminded us to celebrate today,” Kitty had told Marci with
uncharacteristic candor. “Besides, we’re pushing all our fuddy-duddy friends on
you for this wedding. The least we can do is feed them!”

But
Marci suspected that, most of all, her calm came from the rocky road behind
her. She had known two loves in the last year, and experienced the worst
heartaches of her life with each of them. She knew now how much it meant to choose
Jake, and how close she had come to losing him forever. Now that they were
together, the last six months had been the best of her life. Planning the
wedding had been fun, but to her it was only one day of many with the man she
had loved for so long, and grown to appreciate so fully.

She
had heard from Doug very little since the Hyatt. He had waited a few weeks
before calling her, and then had only left messages checking to see how she was
doing. She only called him back once, to let him know about her engagement and
ask him not to call again. He had respected her wishes for the most part,
breaking the silence only to send her a wedding gift.

The
return address label read “The Stantons.”
So he was back with Cathy
. Or maybe
he’d simply used an old address label. When she opened the box, she found a
beautiful and expensive monogrammed desk set with her new initials stamped into
the soft leather pieces. It also included customized stationery (also for Marci
only) and a Mont Blanc pen just like one she had admired in Doug’s office, only
in a softer, silvery pink color.

Clearly
it was a very personal, pricey gift, that had nothing whatsoever to do with her
marriage. She was touched that he’d thought so much of her, but angry that he
was clearly ignoring the new husband with whom she would soon be sharing her
life. Just like Doug, it was generous and selfish all at once. How could she
keep it and not think of him every time she went to her desk?

She
debated whether to show it to Jake, hide it in a closet somewhere, or even mail
it back to Doug with a polite refusal. Ultimately, she stuck with her policy of
always being honest with Jake, almost tearful when she showed him the expensive
gift and told him why she didn’t want to keep it.

Jake
pulled her to him and kissed her forehead. “Do what you want, sweetheart. But
if I were you, I’d keep it. It’s a nice gift from someone who you once cared
about; it doesn’t change who we are now.” She snuggled closer to him, relieved
and grateful, more sure than ever that she’d made the right choice.

A
few days later, she had opened the new stationery, which really was quite
lovely, and written the last communication she would ever send to him:

Dear
Doug, 

Thank
you for your beautiful wedding gift. It was so nice of you to remember us at
this special time in our lives.

All the
best,

Jake
and Marci

Now
that the day was here, Marci felt as though all the previous chapters of her
life had already drawn to a close. She let her mother, best friend, and sister
fuss over her makeup and dress and flowers. As soon as she’d been wrangled into
her soft ivory dress, Beth and Leah—wearing identical dresses to Nicole and
Suzanne—came up the rickety old stairs with their daughters, the flower girls.
Jasmine and Caitlin wore ivory dresses with indigo ribbons around their waists
and streaming from their hair.

“Aunt
Marci!” Jasmine cried excitedly. “We get to ring the chapel bell after the
wedding! Both of us get to, but I’m letting Caitlin go first because that’s the
nice thing to do!”

“Really?
That’s wonderful!” Marci said. She smiled at Leah, who shook her head in
amusement.

“Time
to go, ladies!” she heard her father call from below. “Let’s have a wedding!”

As
Marci navigated down the stairs of and into the bright sunshine, she allowed
thoughts of Doug to fade into the rustle of the late-summer breeze. The chapel,
nearly two hundred years old, loomed in front of her with its Greek columns and
antique white exterior. She had walked past it thousands of times during her
undergraduate years, sat on its steps to chat with friends or eat lunch, and
been inside for a few concerts and other assemblies. The building was as
familiar as her dorm hall or the quad itself.

Today,
however, she was seeing the old building for the first time. It was acquiring
significance in her life that would be recalled every time she looked at a
photo album, came to a football game, or told the story of her wedding. Inside,
she knew, waited worn red carpets, theater seats, and a rounded stage. Behind
the stage would be a famous oil painting of the inside of St. Peter’s Basilica
in Rome. There would be candelabras and flowers, and Reverend McClosky, waiting
with the groomsmen. And standing off to one side, probably fidgeting, would be
her old friend and future husband.

The
majestic trees of the North Quad swayed and Marci inhaled deeply. Suzanne
squeezed her hand as the bridesmaids lined up. Her father took her arm in his.
Marci realized she wanted to leave all of her history, even with Jake, here on
the granite steps. She wanted her life to have new significance, too.

As
Marci began the walk toward her new life, it was with the fullness of a truly
open heart.