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Chapter 129

On January twenty-fifth, Claire awoke with cold feet.

Literally.

She woke with a start and sat up quickly, pulling a tangled bundle of covers with her. In her restless sleep, she’d successfully twisted herself up in the sheets and ended up lying almost sideways on her bed, her feet sticking out from under the blankets on one side. Jamie’s gonna LOVE sharing a bed with me, she thought with a giggle, trying to free herself from the cocoon of covers.

She managed to straighten herself out, and as she sat cross-legged in the helter-skelter bundle of linens, a flutter of happiness, like the wings of a thousand butterflies, flew through her. It’s my wedding day! she realized, letting out a breath of anticipation. She looked at the clock. In another nine hours, she would no longer be Claire Ryan, but Claire Turner, wife of her high school sweetheart. The thought was mind-blowing, nerve-wracking, and incredible, all at once. Part of her couldn’t wait to get to the church and put on her dress, and another part of her was completely terrified.

She was reminded of how she’d felt the day she moved away to college, which had been, at that point in her young life, the biggest life change she’d ever experienced. But today, she wasn’t just moving out; she was getting married. And even though she’d been planning for it for almost a year, she still couldn’t believe this day was finally here.

Her breath caught in her throat as she looked around the room. This would be the last time she saw her own bedroom, she realized. Her lease would be up by the time she and Jamie got back from their honeymoon, and her things would be moved into his apartment, thanks to the help of her family and Jamie’s brother, who had volunteered to do the moving while they were gone. Most of her belongings, all but the bare essentials, were already packed in boxes, leaving her apartment looking more like an attic than a home.

But it didn’t matter. After today, this wouldn’t be her home anymore. Wherever Jamie was… that would be home.

She smiled at the thought of her fiancée, wondering what he was doing right then. Was he awake yet? Probably not. Would he be as nervous as her? Probably so. She hadn’t seen him since the rehearsal dinner last night and wished she could talk to him, but they were following the old traditions – she would have no contact with him until her father gave her away to him at the altar.

Her mind slipped away to the church, imagining herself walking down the aisle the way she had the night before in rehearsal, but this time, for real, her veil fluttering in front of her eyes, the train of her dress trailing behind her. She was so caught up in the daydream that, at first, she didn’t hear the knocking at her door.

When she did, she scrambled out of bed, jamming her feet into the warm, fluffy white slippers Jamie had given her after the rehearsal the night before, wrapping the white, satiny robe that had come with it around her. “I want you to go to sleep tonight and wake up tomorrow feeling like a bride,” Jamie had told her after she’d opened the large box containing the robe and slippers. With a smile, he’d added in a whisper, “Your mom helped me pick them out.”

She smiled, knowing that if it had been up to Jamie, she’d be wearing some sort of gaudy, see-through lingerie. Thanks, Mom, she thought, padding out of her room in the soft slippers. She went to the door, half-expecting to find her mother there now, even though she wasn’t due to come over for another few hours. But when she peeked out the peephole, she saw a man in a delivery hat, holding a large bouquet of flowers.

Getting that fluttery butterfly feeling in her chest again, Claire threw open the door. “Hi!” she greeted the delivery guy brightly.

He smiled. “Flowers for you, miss. You getting married today?”

“Yes,” she smiled back, “I am.”

“Congratulations,” he nodded, handing over the bouquet.

She thanked him and took it inside, setting it down on her kitchen counter so that she could step back and admire it. It was a bouquet of long-stemmed roses, at least a dozen, and in a gorgeous, deep purple color. She smiled at Jamie’s thoughtfulness; not only was purple her favorite color, but it was the color she’d chosen for her wedding. All the bridesmaids and even the flower girl were wearing dresses of the same dark purple, and the flower arrangements contained roses just like these.

There was a big white bow around the vase, and attached was a little card. She opened it and read the message, her heart melting.

Clairie,

I hope you like the roses, one for every year we’ve known each other. All together, they make a beautiful bouquet, don’t they? I know we’ll have just as beautiful of a marriage and many more years together. See you at the altar.

Love,
Jamie

It was written in his hand, and though she could hardly imagine him saying something so poetic out loud, she knew the message was heartfelt. Touched, she let go of the card and counted the roses. Indeed, there were not a dozen, but fourteen of them, representing the almost-fourteen years they’d been friends. A long time, she thought, looking at the full vase of roses. It just made sense for them to marry each other after all those years. They’d drifted apart and come back together again, and in her mind, that was enough to suggest they were meant to be.

Smiling, she fingered the velvety petals of one of the roses. See you at the altar…

***

Across town, Nick awoke with a feeling of dread.

His chest felt tight, like there was a crushing weight upon it, and it was hard to breathe. The sensation was a familiar one, but on this particular morning, he knew it had nothing to do with the BOOP he’d struggled with most of the last year.

Today was Claire’s wedding day. And though technically he’d lost her over two years ago, he felt like he was losing her all over again. After today, when she walked out of the church with Jamie, there would be no more hope of her coming back to him. He would have to let go of her, as he’d been trying to do for two years. It was over.

He sat up and took a few cleansing breaths, temporarily relieving the tightness in his chest. He knew it would be back later though, the squeezing pain in his heart, as he watched her take her vows to someone else.

He really didn’t want to go to the wedding. But he knew he had to. It wasn’t because he had told Claire he would, either; no, he had to go for him. For himself. Because he knew the only way he was going to be able to let her go was if he watched it happen, saw her marry Jamie with his own eyes. Maybe then his heart would finally accept what his brain already knew – Claire wasn’t his anymore. She would always be his friend, but no matter how he felt, their love was over.

Grudgingly, reluctantly, Nick dragged himself out of bed.

***

Once her big day had begun, it went by faster than she had expected, starting with the rush of getting ready. Her mother picked her up and took her to the salon to get her hair and nails done. Claire had never had a manicure or acrylic nails before, not even for prom, but her mother had kept saying, “It’s your wedding day! We need to go all out; this day will never come again,” so she’d agreed to it.

“Just keep them short,” she kept saying, as the technician showed her the options of acrylics. “I don’t want talons that are gonna claw apart my dress.”

She left the salon that afternoon with a set of beautiful nails that went just past her fingertips and were tastefully French-manicured. The hairstylist had worked wonders with her short hair, twisting half of it into an elegant up-do, while the rest hung down, flipping out at the ends the way she liked it. As they drove to the church, she kept her hands tightly clasped in her laps, fighting the urge to touch the hairspray-stiff style for fear of messing up her hair or her nails or both. She wasn’t used to being so high-maintenance.

And that was just the beginning. At the church, her mother hurried her into the large dressing room that had been set up for the bridal party. Dianna, her maid of honor, was already there, looking about ready to burst with excitement. Though the ceremony was nearly two hours away yet, she was already dressed in her bridesmaid dress, a gown of rich, satiny plum with thin straps, an A-line skirt, and just a hint of a train in the back. Dianna had helped her pick out the gowns, and the other three bridesmaids, Amber, Laureen, and Jenn, had identical ones.

“You look beautiful, Di!” Claire exclaimed, stopping for a moment to admire her friend. Dianna had gotten her hair done too; it was piled on top of her head in thick curls, with still more soft spirals trailing down her bare back. Her makeup looked perfect, as always, her dark eyes framed by smoky liner and shadow, with just a hint of dusky purple blended in. “You’re doing my makeup, by the way,” she added.

“Of course!” Dianna chirped, beaming. “I was counting on it!”

“Let’s get your dress on first,” said Claire’s mother, hanging the large garment bag on a clothes bar. She unzipped it slowly, revealing the beautiful wedding gown inside. As her mother pulled the garment bag off, Claire’s breath caught in her throat, the way it had every time she’d laid eyes on the dress before. On the day she and her mother had finally found it, she’d tried on at least a dozen other gowns, many of which she liked, but when she’d stood in front of the three-way mirror in the bridal shop, wearing this dress, she had literally gasped. She’d looked at others after it, keeping her options open, but she had always known this was the one.

Made of white silk satin, it had a full skirt with a modest chapel train in the back. The satin bodice was covered in a translucent overlay that extended up to her shoulders and ended in sheer, airy, long sleeves, perfect for a winter bride in Florida. The sleeves, bodice, and the bottom of the skirt were all adorned with intricate crystal beadwork. Altogether, it was different from most of the other gowns she’d seen in the stores and the bridal magazines. It was less modern, more old-fashioned, and that appealed to her. Jamie had been very set on the idea of a traditional wedding, and she knew he would love her in this dress, almost as much as she loved the dress itself.

Dianna and her mother helped her into it, careful not to rumple her hair, and guided her over to the full-length mirror. A lump rose in her throat as she gazed at her reflection, caught up in the emotion of the day. “Wow… this is the real thing, isn’t it?” she murmured, turning slowly in the elegant white dress. “I’m not just playing dress-up in a store… I’m getting married!!”

Dianna let out a squeal. “You sure are, girl! God, and I always thought I’d be first! I hope I’m not destined to be one of those ‘always a bridesmaid, never a bride’ types…”

Claire watched her friend’s reflection frown in the mirror and shook her head, laughing. “Oh, come on, Di, don’t say that. What about you and Todd? Before you know it, you two will be the ones walking down the aisle, and I’ll be your bridesmaid. Or… matron, I guess.” She wrinkled her nose. “Wow, that’s weird.”

“Yeah it is! By tonight, you’ll be a married woman!”

“Well, catch my bouquet at the reception, and you’ll be next,” Claire said, catching Dianna’s eye in the mirror and smiling.

“You better toss it right at me then, girl; you know I can’t catch to save my life,” replied Dianna, and they both laughed.

“You look absolutely beautiful, sweetheart,” Claire’s mother said from her other side, leaning in to kiss her cheek. Claire glanced at her briefly, and when she looked back into the mirror, she could see tears sparkling in her mother’s eyes.

“Aww, don’t cry yet, Mom… at least save that for when I’m walking down the aisle,” she joked, smiling.

Her mother smiled tearfully back. “Oh, you know I’ll be crying then too,” she replied, putting her arm around Claire’s waist and giving her a squeeze. “This is such a special day. I think every mother dreams of her daughter’s wedding… and I’m just so thankful to see you happy and healthy and looking so perfectly beautiful…”

She trailed off, her voice breaking slightly, and Claire slipped an arm around her too. There wasn’t much she could say back to that, but she knew exactly what her mom was thinking. When she had been sick, she had wondered the same thing – would she live to see this day come? Would she ever get to walk down the aisle in a white gown, the way she’d fantasized as a little girl?

Now she was well, just months away from being considered cured for good, and her little girl dreams, just like her mother’s, were coming true.

The realization brought more butterflies to her stomach.

***

There were butterflies in Nick’s stomach too, as he stood in front of his mirror at home and scrutinized his appearance. He had put on his most expensive suit, a black Dolce & Gabbana ensemble with white pinstripes, and he kept fiddling with it, smoothing out the pressed jacket, tugging at the collar of his black dress shirt, adjusting his light blue silk tie.

I look like I’m going to a funeral, not a wedding, he thought, smirking at himself in almost all black. But he didn’t care; it seemed somehow more appropriate. Claire’s wedding to Jamie represented the final death of his romance with her, though their relationship had flatlined over two years ago. There’d be no bringing it back now, not after today.

Still, Nick had dressed his best, with the foolish idea in the back of his mind that maybe, somehow, Claire would take one look at him and realize she had chosen the wrong man. It was a stupid thing to think, and he knew it, but he couldn’t help himself.

With a heavy heart and the dying embers of an all-but-extinguished hope, Nick reluctantly made his way out of the house and climbed into his old silver Jaguar to drive to the church.

***

Bayview Christian Church was a large, modern building laid out on a sweeping lot just a few blocks from the waterfront in one of Tampa’s newer development areas. It didn’t look as “church-y” as Nick had been expecting, yet as he walked up to the entrance, he started seeing all the signs of the wedding about to take place. The main doors of the church were decorated with a swag of heavy, white satin ribbon and a flower arrangement that included large purple and white roses. As he passed through them into the lobby, he saw more flowers and decorations, deep shades of plum and bridal white everywhere he looked.

“Nick?” Feeling a light tap on his arm, Nick turned to see himself face to face with Kyle Ryan, Claire’s older brother. He was dressed in a black tuxedo, with a white shirt and a bow tie and vest in a dark shade of purple that matched the roses perfectly. He was serving as an usher or groomsman, no doubt. “Hey, man,” Kyle said, smiling briefly. “I wasn’t sure if we’d see you here today or not, but I’m glad you came. It’ll mean a lot to Claire that you did… you know, despite… everything.” He trailed off awkwardly, offering Nick an apologetic shrug.

Nick forced himself to smile. “Yeah… thanks, man. It’s good to see you.”

“You too,” replied Kyle and then patted Nick’s arm again. “Guestbook’s over there, if you’d like to sign,” he added, pointing out an elegant guestbook that was open on a podium.

Nick nodded. “Cool, thanks.” As Kyle went to greet the guest who had come in behind him, Nick wandered over to the podium. He skimmed the names that had already been signed on the open page, not recognizing any of them, and finally scrawled his name on the next empty line. Setting down the pen, he took a deep breath and went back to join the short line of people waiting to get inside the sanctuary.

At the sanctuary doors, another man in a black groomsman’s tux asked him, “Bride or groom’s side?”

Nick didn’t know this man, but when he looked at him more closely, he quickly realized he had to be Jamie’s older brother. He had the same dark, curly hair, same blue eyes, and same facial features, though his were more roughened with age, his shoulders broader, his build stockier than Jamie’s.

“Bride’s,” replied Nick, and Jamie’s brother directed him towards the left section of pews. He chose a seat in one of the last rows, which was still empty, and slid into the pew.

From his spot in the back, he had a good view of the sanctuary. It was decorated in shades of muted blue-gray and ivory, with pretty molding on the ends of the pews and the altar. For the wedding, it had been adorned with beautiful arrangements of flowers and bows in shades of purple and white. They were draped over the pews, down the aisle, across the altar, and even on the gleaming white grand piano that stood off to one side at the front of the sanctuary. A woman sat at the piano, playing soft music as the guests filed in.

Nick could also see the backs of everyone’s heads, and he made a game out of trying to figure out how many people he could recognize. At first, there weren’t too many. He didn’t know anyone on Jamie’s side, and from his vantage point, the only one he could pick out on Claire’s side, much to his annoyance, was Tim Pantero, her old dentist boyfriend. His big fat spiky-haired head gave him away. As more people started to twist around in their seats, looking back toward the sanctuary doors in anticipation, he recognized a few other faces. Sitting near Tim were a few of the other hygienists who worked with Claire; Nick recalled meeting some of them briefly when he’d stopped by her office. He looked for Laureen, but didn’t see her head of auburn hair anywhere near them. Then he remembered Claire telling him that Laureen was one of her bridesmaids.

Shauna, Claire’s transplant nurse, was there, along with a couple of other nurses Nick remembered from the oncology floor. A woman with dark hair, holding a little girl’s hand, sat down in the row behind the nurses. Watching them, Nick was struck with the nagging suspicion that he knew them too, but at first he couldn’t place them. It wasn’t until the woman turned her head that he recognized her. Her dark, soulful eyes gave her away as Meredith Brenner, Casey’s mother. The little girl sitting with her, then, was Catherine, Casey’s sister, who looked significantly taller and more grown-up than Nick remembered her from the one or two times he’d seen her at the hospital. A lump rose in his throat; he thought it touching that they had come to Claire’s wedding even after Casey, their connection to her, was gone.

The stream of guests began to dwindle, and soon, the music changed, and the murmur of voices quieted. Turning his head, Nick watched Jamie’s brother escort an older woman, who had to be Jamie’s mother, to her seat in the front row of the right side of pews. Moments later, Kyle came in, walking Claire’s mother down the aisle to her front row seat on the left side.

The minister appeared at the altar, and then came Jamie, taking his place at the front of the church in a sleek black tux. He stood with his hands folded in front as four groomsmen joined him, his brother standing closest to him.

An air of anticipation permeated the sanctuary as the music changed again. Everyone’s heads turned to the doors in the back, and Pachelbel began to flow from the piano as the bridesmaids began their processional up the aisle. Laureen was first, looking soft and pretty in a satiny gown of dark purple, which trailed along the white aisle runner behind her as she walked gracefully along, her head, piled with auburn ringlets, held high. A tall, slender, black-haired woman Nick did not recognize followed. Then came Amber, Kyle’s wife. She had been pregnant the last time Nick had seen her, but her baby weight was gone now, and behind her toddled a little red-haired boy that could only be her son, Claire’s nephew, Kamden. He had apparently been designated as the ring bearer, for he clutched the corner of a little satin pillow in one of his chubby fists, but he was too young to know what to do with it and simply chased after his mother, reaching for the skirt of her gown. At the front of the church, she took the pillow from him and handed him off to Claire’s mother before taking her place near the altar.

Nick didn’t know the little flower girl who came next, but he did recognize Claire’s best friend Dianna, coming down the aisle as her maid of honor. Once Dianna was in place beside Amber, the piano music flourished into the regal opening chords of the traditional bridal march. The accompanist might as well have been playing the theme from Halloween; it would have better suited the way Nick’s heart suddenly started to hammer, beads of sweat rising on his forehead and slicking his palms. The sick feeling that had been building in his stomach throughout the entire processional intensified, making its way up into his chest, where it squeezed at his drumming heart and finally formed a nice, solid lump in the back of his throat. He tried to swallow, but couldn’t; his mouth was suddenly as dry as cotton.

Everyone in the pews stood up, and Nick followed suit. His good knee felt like jell-o, the way it was shaking, and he rested his clammy hand on the back of the pew for support.

Then the sanctuary doors opened once more, and the first flash of white appeared as she stepped out. His heart skipped a beat. There she was, Claire, looking more beautiful than he had ever seen her in a traditional white wedding dress with a flowing satin skirt and long, beaded lace sleeves. Her face was covered with an airy, white veil, but he could still make out her features through its sheerness. Her blue eyes, large and luminous with emotion. Her lips, stretched into a nervous smile.

He could see her eyes shifting briefly from side to side as she started down the aisle, but she didn’t see him, and after another moment, she had passed his pew, and he could no longer see her face. He watched her from the back as she continued up the aisle, taking slow, tentative steps on the arm of her father, getting further away from Nick and closer to Jamie, who waited on the steps leading to the altar, a big, dumb grin on his face.

As he watched her father, Kris, give her away to Jamie, who took her hand and led her slowly up to meet the minister at the altar, the lump in Nick’s throat swelled, and for a moment, he felt almost crying. He was sure he’d be the only one in the sanctuary with tears of anguish in his eyes; everyone else was shedding happy tears for the couple about to be married. He wished he could be happy for them, but Nick could only think about how this was all wrong. It was all so beautiful, the ornamented sanctuary, the bridesmaids in their identical purple dresses, and Claire, in pure, angelic white. But it shouldn’t be Jamie standing with her, Nick thought enviously, his eyes boring holes through the back of Jamie’s head. It should be me.

He had tried so hard not to get jealous, but there was no use. He would have given anything to be standing in Jamie’s shoes, about to marry the only woman he’d ever truly loved. It wasn’t fair that he should be sitting back here, watching her marry someone else. It wasn’t fair. He’d proposed to her first; she’d worn the ring he’d bought her before Jamie had given her the one she wore now. He should have been standing at the altar with her two years ago, and have a wedding band on his finger now.

But he wasn’t, he realized, looking sadly down at his bare hands. Claire had made her choice.

And so, when the minister addressed the guests with the infamous words, “If any of you can show just cause why these two people should not lawfully be wed, speak now, or forever hold your peace,” Nick kept his mouth shut, holding his breath as silence fell over the sanctuary. He secretly longed to hear someone speak up, but, of course, no one did, and the ceremony continued.

Only moments later, the minister was saying the lines Nick had heard so often, in every wedding he’d ever attended or seen on TV. “Claire Aileen… do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health, and, forsaking all others, be faithful to him, as long as you both shall live?”

The lump in Nick’s throat remained as he thought of how Claire had loved him and comforted him, in sickness and in health. She could have easily taken those vows to him. But instead, she murmured, “I do,” intending them for Jamie.

“James Thomas…” The minister repeated the oath to Jamie, and all too soon, the dreaded two-word promise spawned from his lips.

“I do.”

***

Having whispered her “I do,” Claire stood trembling at the altar, the butterflies in her stomach fluttering in full force. This is it, she thought, as Jamie turned towards her, taking her right hand in his in preparation of saying the vows.

He looked as nervous as she felt, but he was smiling, and his eyes were bright. She could see the love for her shining in them, and it brought tears to her own. A part of her still couldn’t believe that, after all these years, they were here, standing at an altar together, about to exchange wedding vows.

“Repeat after me,” Reverend Halloran instructed Jamie. “I, James…”

And, gazing shyly into her eyes, Jamie recited the words. “I, James… take you, Claire… to be my wife… to have and to hold, from this day forward… for better, for worse… for richer, for poorer… in sickness, and in health…” The tears started to trickle from her eyes as she saw the corners of his mouth twitch upward, a silent sign to her that, this time, he meant it. She smiled sheepishly and blinked furiously, afraid the eye makeup Dianna had so carefully applied was going to run, as Jamie continued his vow. “… to love and to cherish… until death do us part.”

He squeezed her hand, and she smiled behind her veil, fighting hard to get her emotions in check so that she’d be able to speak. Her voice trembled, but she managed to get out the same words, “I, Claire, take you, James, to be my husband…,” vowing to love and cherish him just the same.

Before she knew it, she had slid a white gold wedding band onto Jamie’s finger, its pair was gleaming next to the engagement ring on her own hand, and the minister was declaring, “By the power vested in me by the state of Florida, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride.”

Claire fought the urge to giggle as Jamie lifted her veil up; his hands were shaking visibly. She grinned, before he took her in his arms and kissed the smile from her lips. Tingles of electricity sizzled through her as she realized she was kissing her husband for the first time.

Then, taking her hand again, Jamie turned her to face the rows of their family and friends. She caught her mother’s teary eye first, then her father’s, smiling broadly, as Reverend Halloran announced, “Ladies and gentleman, I now present Mr. and Mrs. Turner.”

Turner, Claire marveled, realizing she’d never sign her name the same way again. Yet as her eyes traveled up the aisle which she would soon walk again, another last name, like a firecracker, exploded into her brain.

Carter.

For just as the recessional music began, she’d spotted him, sitting in the back, his eyes seeming to project a ray of bright blue light through the rows of people, straight to her. And for just a moment, she froze, her breath catching, her feet refusing to move from the altar, her heart refusing to beat.

And even as her husband squeezed her hand, urging her to step down, she found it hard to look away, to break that shining blue connection between her and him, the man she’d once shouted “Yes!” to from a nest of rumpled bedcovers, the spontaneous words of his proposal fresh in her mind.

Nick, she thought, and her heart staccatoed back to life, and her breath released from her throat, and her stomach full of butterflies somersaulted. And for just a second, she imagined it was his hand holding hers.

***