Two Weddings And A Bride

That did it. He had her now.

“I don’t even know you.” There was a slight pout on those great lips.

“That’s okay…I don’t know you, either.” He turned and walked toward his Jeep. The sound of rustling material and clicking heels followed.

Jake opened his door and hopped in. He reached across the passenger seat and shoved open the opposite side. Catherine stood there glaring at him with a look that could send a pit bull whimpering into the corner. Then she turned, hiked up her big skirt, stepped backward onto the running board and jumped into the seat. She landed with a whoosh atop yards of satin, lace and what-all and Jake grinned.

She rotated in her seat and looked at him, catching his amused expression. He fully expected another angry outburst but, instead, she jammed the balled paper down the front of her dress, then ripped off her headpiece and tossed it in the back. Next she ruffled her hair, letting it fall loose around her face. Then she shot both arms straight up into the exposed night air and tilted her face to the moon, holding the pose for what seemed like the longest time.

Finally she dropped her arms into her lap and turned to Jake. “Well? What are you waiting for? Let’s go!”

Jake threw the gearshift in reverse and left a patch of rubber as he rounded the corner heading for Woodward Avenue and downtown Detroit. When he glanced at his passenger she was gripping the roll bar and eyeing him critically.

“Late for an appointment?” she asked, not hiding her disapproval.

“New suit,” he smirked. “Didn’t want blood all over it…duking it out with your husband.” She rolled her eyes and faced forward, hair blowing out behind her, and he thought she looked more beautiful than when she’d walked down the aisle.

What in Sam Hill was he thinking? No matter how women came packaged, they were all basically the same. He eased up on the accelerator and reminded himself of previous experiences that bore out that sentiment. Images of Sally and her slick attorney were never far below the surface. He indulged his anger a few moments before braving another glimpse at Catherine.

When he finally looked, her head was lolled to one side, eyes closed. He wondered what kind of woman could sleep at a time like this? But then she spoke.

“He’s not actually my husband.”

“Really?” He pictured the pricey Townsend Hotel they’d just left. “Kinda expensive rehearsal, don’t you think?”

She shot him an exasperated look. “You know what I mean…” Her voice trailed off as she turned her face to the far side. “…no consummation, no marriage.”

Jake thought about the groom, Studly. He had consummated. Did that mean he was married but Catherine wasn’t? He decided she probably wouldn’t appreciate his humor so he bit his tongue and kept driving.

“Besides,” she continued, sounding as if she were talking more to herself than to him. “We never completed the paperwork. The minister was trying to get us all together…that’s when I went looking for…”

Jake glanced at her. She was staring intently at the dashboard. Then she turned to him.

“Do you suppose that means I’m not actually married?”

What did he look like—a lawyer? Heaven forbid. “Interesting question,” he said, and wondered if she could be right. The light ahead turned red and he rolled to a stop.

A convertible full of teenage girls pulled alongside. Apparently spotting the mound of white surrounding his passenger, they started leaning on the horn. Jake pretended not to notice the kisses being blown in their direction and the clanking of keys against pop cans in the familiar symbolic gesture. Catherine slumped lower in her seat and groaned. For a crazy second he thought about planting a big, sloppy kiss on the bride and giving the girls the show they wanted. The light turned green and he stepped on the gas.

At the next crossing he turned right, pulled to an abrupt stop behind a vacant office building, and turned to her. “Isn’t it time you got out of that dress?”

Her eyes widened. She turned away and jerked at the locked handle, ready to take flight.

Jake grabbed her arm and held tight. “Whoa…I didn’t mean here.” She tugged her arm free and rubbed it, still looking wary. “For God’s sake, I’m not Jack the Ripper.”

“Right,” she said, and he saw her begin to relax, traces of a smile crinkling the corners of her eyes. “How stupid of me. It’s Jake the Ripper, isn’t it?”

In spite of himself he laughed and was rewarded with another glimpse of those perfect teeth. He studied her a moment, then slowly backed out onto the street.

Another time, another place, maybe…

He stopped at the corner. “Okay. Where to?”

“Back the way we came. About a half mile past is my maid-of-honor’s house. I left a change of clothes there…and my suitcases for…”

For the first time he heard a quiver in her voice and he could almost feel her spirit float away with her unfinished words.

She didn’t speak again until they neared their destination. “Next right. Second block, fourth house on the left,” she said economically, then fell silent again.

He pulled up in front of a cozy Cape Cod and left the engine idling. What now? he wondered. “Nice meeting you? Have a nice life? Tough break, kid, better luck next time?” Suddenly he realized he didn’t want to say goodbye and just drive off. For a fleeting second he let himself think she might be feeling the same way.

Hesitantly he draped an arm over the back of the seat. She turned and looked him straight in the eye. There was no evidence of tears, just an emptiness that seared right through him, stirring all those old he-man emotions. To hell with the new suit. He wanted to go back to the hotel and pound Studly to a bloody pulp.

Finally she said, “So…where you off to now?”

“Good question.” He tipped his head back and admired the sky, waiting for an answer to come. One place was obvious. He grabbed onto it and exhaled loudly. “Oh, I guess I’ll head over to Alley Cat.” He hoped for some sign of recognition, but when he heard none he looked over. She was staring out the front window and he wasn’t sure she’d heard him. “Ever go there?”

“Once.”

“What did you think of the place?” He couldn’t resist.

“I thought it was a perfect place for beauticians to meet wanna-be cowboys.” She didn’t even look at him, just opened her door, bunched up her dress and hopped out onto the perfectly manicured lawn. On the front steps she stopped and called over her shoulder. “Thanks for the ride, Jake.”

Two (#ulink_7f76d794-2c83-533e-8744-f13b831f40f4)

The key was in the corner of the window flower box where Becky always kept it. Catherine shook off a clump of dirt and inserted it into the lock. Once inside she shut the door behind her, leaned against it and heard the Jeep pull away. She filled her lungs with air, closed her eyes, and let out a long, slow breath.

No! She wouldn’t think about it now. She had to keep moving. Impatiently tugging at her back zipper, she ran up the stairs. If she hurried maybe she could be out of here before anyone arrived. This would be the first place they’d look.

She found the new smoky blue silk pants and matching top laid out on the bedspread where she’d left them. A pair of white sandals waited at the foot of the bed, a small white leather purse beside them. The dress fell in a heap at her feet, the balled paper in the bodice tumbling loose. She scooped it up and shoved it in her purse, then kicked the dress aside. She continued kicking it as she finished tucking the top into the pants, the phone propped between her ear and shoulder.

A gravelly voice came over the line. “North Oakland Taxi.”

“I’m a block north of Lincoln, east of Woodward. How fast can you get here?”

“Where ya goin’?”

She hadn’t thought that far. Once she was in the cab she’d figure out the next step. For now she’d tell him anything. “Downtown Detroit.”

Catherine gave the address, hung up and did a quick survey of the room. There were a couple of large suitcases by the door and a matching burgundy carry on. Ever since the first time her luggage had been lost on a buying trip three years ago, she’d always packed a change of clothes, swimsuit and all toiletries in her carryon. She eyed the suitcases a moment, remembering the hours of planning and shopping for just the right trousseau. Before the first tear could come she swallowed hard, flung the carryon over her shoulder and ran down the stairs.

For the first time she noticed the glow of a kitchen light and the note left on the counter. She looked out the front door. No sign of the cab yet. She debated a second, then headed for the note knowing what to expect.

The short message began “Dearest Cat and TJ—I’m so happy for both of you.” She turned the single page facedown and picked up the pen left beside it.

“Becky, have to be alone for a while—sure you understand. Please call Mom and Dad—tell them I’m okay.” A horn sounded out front and she scribbled a last line. “Tell them I’ll call tomorrow. Love, Cat.”

She flew down the walk and slid into the back of the cab. “Head south on Woodward. I’ll let you know where in a minute.”