Chapter Ten
Derek
The best thing I can say about Saturday morning was that I didn't wake up with a hangover. Gabe wasn't hungover either, but I guess the morning sickness kind of made up for that.
She ran for the bathroom within minutes of waking up. While I waited for her to return, I considered the pros and cons of luring her back into bed. Maybe it would make her feel better. At the very least, I doubted it would make her feel worse. But I could already hear my brother moving around in the other room, and we had a busy day ahead of us, so I reluctantly shelved the idea.
Just thinking about all we had to do today had me longing for yesterday. And I don't mean that in a cheesy poetic way. I'm not talking of days gone by—capisce? I'm talking about yesterday, the day before today. A day that had been filled with exercise, alcohol and plenty of great sex. A day I'd spent, in large part, at the river.
If I'd been asked, right then, to put together a list of my favorite things about Sapphire Falls, the Niwadi River would've taken top billing. Not counting Gabe, of course, because when it came right down to it, I really didn't think of her as being part of Sapphire Falls.
It didn't matter that she grew up here. She was part of my world now—part of my life—which was not lived here. Nice as this place was, it still wasn't home, and I didn't think it ever would be. And the only trouble with that was that I wasn't completely convinced she felt the same. In fact, I was pretty sure she didn't.
Which is all to say that the day started off badly. I was nervous—and I'm almost never nervous. But wedding jitters had set in. This whole countdown-to-the-big-day was making me antsy as fuck. I wanted to grab Gabe's hand and go back to LA—back to the life we'd been happily living until a month ago—and forget that either of us had ever even thought about getting hitched. Factor in some of those other small details—not having gotten laid this morning, not having found the time for my regular morning workout—and I think it's safe to say that by the time we joined Gabby's parents in their kitchen for breakfast, I was in a pretty shitty mood.
Which, apparently, put me in the same boat as nearly everyone else.
Garth and Keith had finished their breakfast and been allowed to leave the table. Judging by the way Arielle winced at the slightest noise—like the sound of truck doors slamming when Micah stopped by to drop off his kids, or the sounds of kids playing in the yard, which occasionally drifted in through the window—she was definitely feeling the effects of last night. She sat slumped at the table, picking at her food, pointedly not making eye contact with Wyatt.
I couldn't tell if my brother was hungover, or not. If he was, it hadn't affected his appetite. He was looking unusually subdued, but he still managed to wolf down an enormous breakfast, all the while casting tentative smiles in Arielle's direction, all of which she ignored. Gabby, looking faintly green, sipped at her tea. Mick was his usual glum and uncommunicative self. Only Alice seemed unaffected. Although, for all I knew, she might have been an even better actor than her daughter, in which case, it was possible she was as miserable as the rest of us.
Either way, she'd outdone herself with breakfast. We sat down to a table loaded with toast, pancakes, biscuits, eggs, bacon, sausage, fried potatoes, both stewed and fresh fruit, and I'm not sure what else. I'd piled my plate high and dug in happily, until I noticed Gabby had nothing on her plate except for half a slice of dry toast—and she was barely nibbling at that.
"Is that all you're going to eat?"
She gave me a sour look, but said nothing.
I pressed harder. "Look, don't you think you should at least try something else? We have a lot going on today. You need energy to function."
"I know that!"
"And neither of us got much sleep last night, so..." My voice trailed off as I realized how that remark might be interpreted.
Gabby's lips had turned in. She might have been trying not to laugh. Finally, she shook her head and said, "It's just that I don't know if I can keep even this much down. So what's the use of trying to eat more?"
"Put a little honey on your bread," Alice suggested, smiling serenely. "That might help settle your stomach. And, relax. It'll get better, you know."
"Yeah, it will," Arielle said with a snort. "But what's that thing they always say? Things have to get worse before they get better?"
"That's not very helpful," her mother said dryly.
"No, but it's true. I had terrible morning sickness all the way through both my pregnancies."
Alice nodded. "I remember. But just because that was your experience, doesn't make it inevitable. I had four pregnancies, and each time it was different."
Gabby and I shared a semi-amused glance while her mother and sister continued to discuss the subject. She flashed a tired smile and said, "I really am fine, you know."
"I know."
"So you don't have to worry."
"I'm not."
Worry was entirely the wrong word to use. I felt angry, helpless. I hated that she wasn't feeling well. I hated that, in a way, it was my fault. More than anything, though, I hated that there was nothing I could do to make her feel better.
Mick muttered something under his breath. I didn't catch what it was, but it earned him a sharp look from his daughter.
"What's that, Dad?"
"Nothing," he replied through gritted teeth.
"Oh, I don't think so."
"Excuse me?"
"Gabby," her mother said sternly. "You're being rude."
"I don't care." Gabby scowled harder. "He said something. I want to know what."
Gabby and her dad continued their stare-down for another long moment while the rest of us sat back and watched to see who'd back down first. Pisces have a reputation for being gentle and easy-going, and Gabby pays plenty of lip service to the concept of "going with the flow" but I've known this woman for a little while now, so I wasn't at all surprised at the outcome.
"All right, fine. You want to know what I said?" Mick growled, putting down his fork and nodding in my direction. "I said, 'maybe he should worry about you'."
"Mick, really," his wife admonished. "Why? There's absolutely nothing to worry about. It's a natural process."
"That's not the point."
"Then what is?"
Mick shook his head. "I just think that—if they're going to be married—he should be concerned with her well-being. Natural process or not."
I felt myself nodding in agreement. Judging by the look on Wyatt's face, he thought so too. Now, obviously, I was concerned with Gabby's well-being. And I’d have been happy to set the record straight. But before I had a chance—
"What do you mean if we're getting married?" Gabby demanded angrily. "The wedding's tomorrow, in case you've forgotten. Are you saying you think we should call it off?"
"I don't know," Mick shot back. "Maybe you should."
"Oh, yeah?" Gabby's eyes flashed dangerously. "Maybe I will."
"Mick!" Alice glared at her husband.
"Gabe?" I eyed my fiancée questioningly. What the hell just happened?
"You were right." Gabby stared at me beseechingly. "We'll got to Vegas. It's what we should have done in the first place. I don't know why it took me so long to see that."
"Oo-kay," I said doubtfully. "If that's what you want." This made the second or third time she'd said that this week. And if that was truly what she wanted, I'd be fine with it. But not for an instant did I believe that she meant what she was saying.
"Oh, Gabby, no!" Alice looked crestfallen.
"The hell you will," Mick exclaimed, angrily slamming his hand on the table. Wyatt and I exchanged tense glances. This was more like the family dynamic we were used to. And I don't mean that in a good way.
"Why shouldn't we?" Gabby challenged. "You obviously don't want us to do it here."
"Okay, I think we all just need to calm down a little," I said, in an effort to defuse the situation.
"That's not true," Mick said, ignoring me and addressing his words to Gabby. "And you know it's not.
She shook her head. "No, I don't know that, Dad. You've been in a lousy mood all week, and if it's not because of the wedding, I don't know why."
"I have not," he scoffed, earning himself a disbelieving look from pretty much everyone.
"Yeah, you have," Arielle told him.
Mick scowled at us all, then sighed. "Okay, fine. I might be struggling with the concept of giving my little girl away."
Tears sprang to Gabby's eyes. "You don't want to walk me down the aisle?"
"That's not what I said!" He stared at the ceiling for a moment as though trying to find some untapped well of patience. Or maybe some secret words he could use to explain how he was feeling. I felt for him. Been there, done that, man. But I could've told him he was wasting his time. Finally, he shook his head and said, "I meant giving you up, letting you go, handing you over to...well, to someone we know so little about."
Yep. There you go. Big waste of time. He was in for it now.
"Mick," Alice stared at her husband in disbelief. "I can't believe what I'm hearing. What kind of patriarchal bullshit is that? She's your daughter, not your chattel."
"You didn't have this problem when I got married," Arielle pointed out.
Mick gave her a look. "Sure, I did."
"Didn't seem that way."
"Well...that was...different," he said with a shrug.
"Different how?" she asked in a tone that, well, frankly, made me want to cover my balls.
Mick didn't seem to notice. "For one thing, you and Hank had known each other most of your lives. I figured you knew your own mind."
"Right. And we can all see how well that's worked out," Gabby said, earning herself angry looks from both her parents and her sister. "What? It's true!"
"Thanks a lot." Arielle was scowling as she pushed away from the table. "You can all go to hell." Then she stormed off through the screen door, letting it slam closed behind her.
"Excuse me," Wyatt said, hurriedly getting up, and following her outside.
"Great," Mick mumbled sourly. "Here we go again."
Alice fixed her husband with an angry glare. "Mick, I think you owe your daughter an apology."
"Which one?"
"Both! Come to think of it."
"I’m not interested in an apology,” Gabby insisted. “But I do think he owes one to Derek."
And that's when I decided to take matters into my own hands "Whoa. Hold on. Not so fast. No, he doesn't."
"Why not?" Gabby asked.
"Because I get it, that's why. I understand what he's saying. And I kind of agree with him."
"You do?" Alice's eyebrows rose toward her hairline.
"Sorry," I said, then I turned to Gabby. "It's got nothing to do with ownership, or whether or not you're an adult. If I were your father, I wouldn't be happy about letting you go off with some stranger either, no matter how nice he was. Hell, Gabe, I’m not your father and I still feel that way. Or have you forgotten what happened last February?"
"What are you talk— Oh." Gabby's cheeks turned red. "Derek! That was entirely different."
"Not really." I shrugged. "Besides, if your sister's already had problems with guys letting her down when they shouldn't, it must be twice as hard for him to trust someone to take care of you."
Alice shook her head. "Well I, for one am very disappointed with all of this."
Gabby was glaring at me. "So, what are you saying, Der? If this baby's a girl, are you gonna behave in the same moronic way when she gets married?"
A girl? My brain felt on the verge of exploding for some reason. I had to take a deep breath just to steady myself. I thought about it for an instant, and shrugged. “Probably.”
“Well, that’s just not okay!”
“Maybe not, but there's not a whole lot you can do about it. That’s just how it is.” Then I turned to Mick and said, "I know you've probably heard this before, and I don't expect you to believe me today, but I really do love your daughter. And I promise I'll do everything I can to take care of her."
Mick nodded. "I appreciate that."
"Well, I don't," Gabby snapped. "It's nice that the two of you are getting along so well, but I'm pretty sure I should have some say in all these decisions you're making."
“I’m sorry, Gabby," her mother said. "But you’re clearly planning on marrying a Neanderthal. I’m afraid I can’t approve.”
Gabby scowled. “Well...you’re already married to one. So, I don’t see you holding any moral high ground.”
I honestly don't know where things would have gone from there, but at that moment the back door flew open and Garth came running into the kitchen.
"Aunt Gabby, come quick!" he shouted excitedly. "Mom said to tell you the goats are eating your flowers!"
"My flowers?" Gabby sprang to her feet. "When did they get here?" But Garth was already on his way back out of the house.
We followed him outside. The sight that met our eyes might have been funny if it were happening to someone else. Nah, scratch that. If it was happening to someone else, it would have been freaking hilarious.
Wyatt was backed up against one of the picnic tables. His arms were filled with flowers—delicate bouquets, trimmed with lace and ribbon, that he held clutched to his chest in an effort to defend them from eight or nine interested goats. The animals clustered around him, headbutting each other out of the way as they vied for position. Their little stub tails never stopped moving as they pushed and bleated and nibbled at the trailing ends of the shimmery pastel ribbons.
As we watched, a couple of the goats attempted to attack him from the rear. They leapt onto the table behind him, sending him stumbling forward, wheeling around in a circle of swarming goats, yelling, "Shoo! Shoo!" at the top of his lungs.
Keith and his cousins were chasing after three other goats with flowers in their mouths, while Arielle—aided by Garth—attempted to corral another two over by the smoker. I could see Micah jogging back up the path from the hollow, presumably coming to help. Alice and Mick ran to join the others, but for once, my task was clear.
Gabby was still standing slack-jawed at the foot of the stairs, staring at the debacle unfolding before us. "Are you okay?" I asked, as I reached for her. She shook her head and threw herself against my chest. I held her close and murmured the words I'd gotten so very familiar with over the last few weeks, "It's all right. It'll be okay. I've got you. Don't worry."
By now, I could have recited them in my sleep. What I couldn't do, however, was convince myself they were true.
In terms of the flowers, at least, things turned out to be not as bad as we'd initially feared. While Mick and Micah herded the goats back to their pasture, the rest of us took stock. The corsages Gabby had ordered for her mother and Lana to wear had both survived. And while some of the more fragile blooms in the bouquets had been mangled, the bouquets themselves were all still usable. The boutonnieres were an almost total loss, however, as was the greenery and swag we'd planned to use to decorate the chapel. Still, as Alice was quick to point out, most of the losses could be easily made up.
"We'll just send the children out to pick some wildflowers. We were going to do that anyway for the centerpieces and table displays; we'll just have them gather a little more. Then we'll use those to supplement what we already have, rearrange some things a little, and it will all be fine. No one will ever know."
Gabby nodded. Her face dull. "I know. I just don't understand how it happened."
Arielle shrugged. "The flowers arrived while I was out here...talking." The emphasis she put on the word, coupled with the thunderous look she shot at Wyatt, made it clear there was more to the story than that. "I told the florist to go ahead and put them on the picnic table, figuring they'd be safe there for a few minutes—and they should have been. I didn't realize until too late that the goats had gotten out."
"How did they get out?" I couldn't stop myself from asking.
"Jumped over something? Found a hole in the fence? Who knows?" She shrugged again. "They're goats. They do that. It was just...one of those things."
"I'm getting a little tired of all 'those things' continually happening," Gabby said, her voice still raw with tears.
"Maybe we can get started on collecting those wildflowers now?" I suggested, hoping to de-fuse the situation.
Alice seemed to agree. "Good idea. Arielle, do you want to go with the children and supervise?"
"I'll go with you," Wyatt volunteered, as Arielle nodded reluctantly.
She froze for a moment then said, "Actually, you go ahead, and take the boys with you. I need Cassie and Jo to stay here and try on their dresses. I might need to adjust their hems or something."
I was pretty sure that was bullshit, but I didn't want to be the one to call her on it.
Alice smiled tightly. "Thank you, dear," she told Wyatt. "The boys will show you where the clippers and buckets are. Boys," she admonished her grandchildren, "Mind you don't disturb the bees."
"Bees?" Wyatt repeated warily. He shot me a dubious look. I shrugged in response. I had enough on my plate already.
"Honey bees," Alice explained. “We have hives, you know.” She turned to her daughter. "Arielle are you sure you shouldn't go with them?"
"I'm sure," she replied woodenly, staring at the table.
"All right, well..." Alice looked at Gabby. "Speaking of dresses, I have to get yours on the line. I soaked it overnight, you know, and washed it first thing this morning. Do you want to come and see it? I think you'll be pleased."
"In a minute," Gabby answered, still eyeing her sister.
"Well, I guess we'd better get busy moving these flowers into the root cellar to keep them cool," Arielle said, a short while later—after Alice had hustled the girls toward the house and the boys had dragged Wyatt off in the direction of the barn.
"Not so fast," Gabby said. "First, I want to know what you're doing with Wyatt."
"Excuse me?" Arielle said, shooting a suspicious glance in my direction.
"Last night you were all over him,” Gabby continued. “This morning you won't give him the time of day. Are you leading him on? Playing hard to get? What?"
"I'm not doing anything with him," Arielle snarled. "Not any more. We had a good time together, but now we’re done."
"Does he know that?"
Arielle nodded. "He doesn't like it any better than I do, but he understands. And he'll get over it."
"Ari..."
"Stop." Arielle cut her off with a look. "This is not up for discussion. I'm gonna tell you the same thing I told him. He's going to be your brother-in-law, Gabs. That makes him part of our family. So sure, it's all great now, but what about later? What about a few years down the road after we've had a falling out, and we're both avoiding family gatherings for fear of running into each other? Or what if it goes the other way? What if we're fine, but you two split up? No offense," she said, shooting me an apologetic glance. "But things happen. Life doesn't always work out the way we hope it will."
I shrugged in reluctant acknowledgement. She wasn't wrong, after all.
"Plus, I have my boys to think about. They practically idolized Wyatt before they'd even met him. And I guess I don't have to tell you what kind of lousy role-model I always thought 'Low Blow' was!"
"But that's not Wyatt," I said, coming to my brother's defense. Although really, if she couldn't figure that out on her own, she didn't deserve him anyway. "That's just a character he plays."
Arielle sighed. "Oh, for fuck’s sake, don't you think I know that? Believe me, this would be so much easier if he really was nothing more than that king-sized jerk he plays on TV. But my boys, Garth in particular, are still a little young to process that. Maybe someday... But, not right now. I just can't deal with it. It's all too fucking complicated."
What could I say? When you’re right, you’re right.
"I'm sorry," Gabby told her.
Arielle nodded. "Me, too."
By the time we had the flowers stored safely away, Alice had brought out Gabby's dress, which did in fact look spotless. But the trucks had started to arrive, by then, filled with rental furniture, and table linens, and audio equipment for the reception, so I left the women still debating where the safest place would be to hang it up to dry, and went to assist Rafe and the drivers with unloading everything into the barn.
And by the time all of that had been dealt with, the chapel had arrived.