Chapter Four
I found myself sitting next to the Clairbornes in the middle of the Grand Hall waiting for the wedding to begin. In fact, they were glued to my side. Mrs. Clairborne had been leading me around like a show dog and had introduced me to several of their friends during appetizers. I wanted to apologize for breaking their rules, but the moment never seemed right.
“This is Holland Reeves, she used to work for us,” Mrs. Clairborne began while introducing me to Olivia Randall, the owner of the smoothie bar in town. “Holland is . . .” She turned to me to reply, obviously anxious to know what I was doing with my life.
I cleared my throat. “I’m a doctoral student at Winchester University.”
Olivia’s left brow raised. “Impressive.”
Winchester had the three P’s going for it: private, prestigious, and pricey. I could have never afforded it without the full-ride scholarship and various grants.
Mr. and Mrs. Clairborne looked beyond pleased with my response.
“And what is your emphasis?” Olivia asked.
“Pharmacology. I’m currently working in a study involving how our DNA affects heart disease medication.”
Mr. and Mrs. Clairborne beamed as if they were my parents. It was nice, but honestly, a little bizarre—bordering on freakish—and making me uncomfortable. I wasn’t used to the attention and was suspicious as to why they were giving me so much. Maybe they hadn’t seen the picture and thought I was still the nice, truthful girl who used to work for them.
As we sat in the Grand Hall, they kept smiling over at me and then whispering between themselves. I might have pulled out my university-issued smartphone and stared at it, but the only thing worth doing on it would have been to read my emails. That would have only sucked me in and made me wish more that I stayed at home or went to the lab to work.
The wedding couldn’t get over soon enough. All I wanted to do was say hello to Jaycee, apologize, and move on with my life. Porter’s parents weren’t making that easy on me. They were big fat reminders that Paradise was all that my mind made it up to be and why I fell in love with their son. Porter had been proud of me like his parents were acting. Any accomplishment during my senior year was always shared with him first. He was the only one who cared that I got into Winchester and Yale. Yes, Yale. I couldn’t afford it, even with scholarships. I saved my news about Winchester for a weekend Porter came home and visited me at Jaycee’s. He couldn’t stop saying how proud he was, but he told me if Yale is where I really wanted to go, he would follow me there. He would make it happen. I told him he was crazy. He needed to finish school where he was then come home. Then I would only be an hour away. I would be without the constraints of my aunt and uncle. We could finally be a real couple.
Something in that memory struck me. I sat up straight on the wood-framed chair with a pink silk bow wrapped around it, draping down the back. That was the night Porter began to distance himself. Visits home became less frequent, and when he did come home, he would change the subject any time I tried to bring up the future. He would kiss me as hard and deeply as he could before whispering, “Let’s just enjoy our time together now. The future will take care of itself.” I thought it was a sweet, live-in-the-moment kind of comment at the time. Looking back, he was saying goodbye.
But why? What changed?
No. No. No. I was putting him to rest. And I knew why. Demi. Though they obviously hadn’t ended up together. No telling how long they lasted. I suppose I could be a true stalker and go back seven years on his Facebook page to see if there was any evidence. Maybe it would tell me why, too. Porter admitted to me several times he didn’t like her or the way she’d hunted him all that summer. He must have been lying. He was a liar. There it was. Mystery solved.
I scooted as far away on my chair as I could from Mrs. Clairborne. Thoughts of leaving raced through my brain.
Mrs. Clairborne put her arm around my bare shoulders. Her touch was warm and gentle, unusual for me. “Are you all right? You look as if you lost your best friend.”
I had. His name was Porter.
“I’m fine, just anxious for this to be over. I have a lot of work to catch up on.”
“On a Saturday?” she whispered.
I nodded. Days of the week meant nothing to me. They were all the same, except weekends meant I could have the lab to myself most of the time.
“Work will always be there. Enjoy tonight, celebrating your friend. It’s so wonderful you kept in touch. You girls were two peas in pod.”
I couldn’t meet Mrs. Clairborne’s eyes. “I haven’t seen Jaycee since I quit working for you,” I mumbled.
“Oh.”
Yeah. Oh.
The procession music was my saving grace. Mrs. Clairborne, along with everyone else, turned toward the large double doors at the entrance. I should clarify–everyone but Mr. Clairborne. His eyes met mine. In them I saw hope. Hope for what? Perhaps he was as anxious as me to get out of there. But his smile said that wasn’t it. His smile said trust me.
Porter used to wear the same one whenever he tried to convince me to go along with his harebrained schemes, like staying out all night at the dunes, lying in each other’s arms, and staring up at the sky. It was there I told Porter all about my life. And he shared with me how much he missed his biological mother, Genevieve. She flitted all over the world. He wished to do the same. I think he had, judging by what I had seen on social media. He’d only been in Tahoe for a few years. I had seen pictures of him in Europe, the Caribbean, and even China.
I pulled away from Mr. Clairborne’s gaze and focused on the reason I was there. Not surprising, seven bridesmaids with their groomsmen escorts proceeded the bride. Jaycee was all for grand parties and making an entrance. Her wedding would qualify. It looked as if the florist ordered every pink rose and cream candle in every size this side of the Mississippi. The arrangements and candlelight that illuminated the room were stunning. Not to mention the gowns her bridesmaids were wearing. I didn’t know what style they were, that wasn’t my thing, but they looked expensive and sparkly. Before I knew it, we were all standing. My old friend appeared with her father who was visibly emotional, tears running down his ruddy cheeks.
In that moment, it once again struck me how alone I was in this world. I would never have these moments. Even if by some abhorrent abnormality I wanted my father to walk me down the aisle, I wouldn’t know where to find him. And the likelihood of me getting married? Tears stung my eyes. The second time in a week. It was a record. Not one I wanted. This time it didn’t go unnoticed.
Mrs. Clairborne handed me a tissue while dabbing her own eyes. “Isn’t she beautiful?”
I nodded, focusing on controlling the lacrimal fluid and on Jaycee, who was a vision in an antique white ball gown, with a train to rival Amtrak. For a split second she caught my eye, and even from the distance I could see the excitement in them. It almost made coming worth it.
No one was as excited as the groom, George, who stood at the front by the preacher and the wedding party. Visions of the honeymoon danced in his head, judging by the seductive smile he was flashing his bride.
Once we sat back down and the ceremony began, I noticed the way Mr. Clairborne took his wife’s hand and caressed it. Porter had done the same thing with me. So much for getting him out of my mind. I sighed, and Mrs. Clairborne patted my knee. It was odd, all the attention they were paying me. Really, who was I to them? It made no sense for them to care about someone who worked for them seven and a half years ago. And I was only seasonal help.
I was mesmerized by the ceremony. It was only the second wedding I had ever been to. The first one paled in comparison. It was for an old roommate who got married at the courthouse. The only reason I went was because she needed a witness and I wanted her to move out. She was one of those who brought creepy men home, then apparently married them. Jaycee and George’s ceremony was everything that on-a-whim ceremony wasn’t. This was beautiful. They even wrote their own vows.
“George, I promise to make you eat healthy even if you don’t want to. I promise to continue to annoy you with my off-tune singing of your favorite country songs. I promise to dance with you in the kitchen no matter how old we are. I promise you it will be hard, but always worth it. That you will always be worth it. I love you.”
Jaycee had that tall, dark, and handsome cowboy crying like a baby.
I wanted to cry too. More and more I was convinced this would never be in my future. See, I probably would have gotten up there and said something about the one hundred eighty-one known moons in the solar system and how my love was the like the largest moon in our system, Ganymede. Then I would have proceeded to name all of them, when they were discovered, and by whom. Sharon said this is why I didn’t date. I guess that intimidated men.
If that was the case, I would rather be alone than with a man who was afraid of an intelligent woman.
The I dos were said and the bride was kissed. Freedom was close. I would make my way to Jaycee before they served dinner at the reception, say what I had to say, then escape. Lola and I would be on our way within the half hour. Paradise would be in my rearview mirror and I would never look back.
In the excitement of following the bride and groom out of the hall, I slipped away from the Clairbornes. It wasn’t as easy as I thought. Mrs. Clairborne kept looking back for me and asked me to sit with them at dinner. I didn’t respond and made my getaway when a friend of theirs engaged them in conversation. I looped around the back and snuck out a side door, taking the long way around to the reception hall with a large veranda and view of the Gulf. Before the wedding party entered, I detoured to peek at the beach and Gulf.
The natural-colored tiled floor veranda was outlined by several columns and long white curtains that rustled in the breeze. Strategically placed candles added to the romance of it all. Waves crashing against the shoreline could be heard above the faint classical musical that played through the country club’s sound system. That wouldn’t last long. I saw a band setting up.
Let it all go, right here and now, I repeated in my mind. Goodbye, Paradise. Goodbye, Porter. I took a deep, cleansing breath, let it out, and marched myself back to look for the bride. She wasn’t hard to spot. She was the glowing one with a throng of followers behind her and a man floating next to her.
It was easier getting to her than I thought. She spotted me and ran toward me, though her dress and train had to have added a lot of extra weight and friction. She didn’t let that stop her. We met in the middle of the dance floor. Like Mrs. Clairborne, she was a hugger.
“Oh my gosh, you made it. I wasn’t sure if you would. My day is complete now,” Jaycee gushed.
I completed her day? I did something I rarely had, I hugged her tight. “I wouldn’t have missed it.” That was stretching it, but knowing how she felt now, it was true. “Congratulations. You look absolutely amazing.”
She leaned away and looked at me. “So do you. And you’re wearing pink.” Her big violet eyes widened. “You have to sit with the bridal party. I wanted you to be a bridesmaid, but I didn’t find your address in time.”
No. No. No. “Actually, I should . . .”
“I won’t take no for an answer.” She grabbed my hand and, with gusto, pulled me along. Wow. She was strong. “I want you to meet George.”
“Um . . . okay. But, Jaycee,” I tugged on her hand, “I need to apologize first.”
That got her to stop dead in her jeweled heels. “For what?”
I leaned in closer, hoping to make this private. Guests were clamoring for her attention. “I want you to know how sorry I am for not ever saying goodbye. Your friendship meant the world to me. It’s just, I couldn’t face . . .”
She wrapped me in her arms again. “I know what Porter did to you.”
I stepped back and met her eyes. “You do?” I choked out.
“Demi was telling anyone that would listen that she and Porter had a liaison. They left town around the same time. It was easy to put two and two together.”
Why did it still sting?
She took my hand. “I wish you would have told me.”
“Me too,” I whispered. If I hadn’t run from it, and dealt with it from the beginning, I would have been better off. Maybe Jaycee and I would have still been close.
She waved her hand and grinned. “The past is the past. All is forgotten. Now come meet my husband and tell me how you’ve kept your to-die-for figure.”