Faithful (12 page)

Scott lowered his voice further. “Are you going to be all right, going to this wedding?”

“No,” Dana said. Then, “
No!
Mackenzie, wait!” She hated the thought of her daughter entering that room.

She dashed up the stairs, but it was too late. Mackenzie was in the master bedroom, halted in the middle of the floor. “What happened to the bed?”

Dana frowned. The bedding and the mattress were gone. Only the headboard, footboard, bed frame, and box spring remained. Scott stood behind them, silent.

Mackenzie shrugged and dashed into Dana's closet, grabbed the garment bag that housed her dress, and left.

Dana stared at the crime scene. “So when did you do this?”

“In the middle of the night. I'm buying a new mattress today.”

“Why?”

“Dana.”

“Really. Why? You slept with her those other times in our bed and didn't get rid of it.” The anger surged afresh. “I can't
believe
you had that whore in my bed.” She felt the trembling again as she glared at him. “Did you use protection?”

“Dana, can we please—?” He folded his eyes to a close.

“Did you use protection, or do I need to get tested?” She brought her voice down. “No telling who else she's been with.”

Scott looked pained. “I used protection, Dana, but she's not like that. She's not—”

She got in his face. “Oh, you don't like me talking about your little whore, Scott?”

He sighed again. “Dana, I know you're hurting. I just don't want to talk about her. I want to talk about
us
.”

“You ruined
us
. What, you want to talk about the fragments, the little pieces of us?”

“Yes, let's do that, then. Let's talk about the fragments and how we can put them back together. I know they can be put back together, Dana.” His hand grazed the side of her head. “I love you so much.”

The image flashed, Scott's hand to Heather's head.

She flinched and ducked under his hand. “Don't touch me. Just leave me alone.”

The anger was so palpable she could barely see, barely think. She braved the master bathroom—positive she could smell Heather's perfume—slung her robe over her arm, gathered a few toiletries, and stormed past Scott to the kids' bath down the hall. In the shower, she hadn't the strength to stand, so she sat and held herself as her body heaved with sobs.

All she could think was how much she loved him.

She wanted to hate him. Parts of her wanted to hurt him. But the predominant feeling was love, a love he had stomped on and trashed. She could feel the pain shooting through her fingers, cramping her stomach, throbbing in her head, crushing her heart. She could feel the pain standing guard over her mind, tossing any hope that tried to enter.

Don't believe him. He didn't turn to God. He's still got feelings for that woman, probably called her last night
.

He probably did. He couldn't cut himself off from her that easily. If he had feelings for her, that meant they'd done more than have sex. They'd been intimate in conversation—sharing, laughing, whispering. Picturing him taking those steps, building those moments, taking what belonged to Dana and giving it to another woman—that's what hurt most. That a piece of him, a piece of
them
, had gone to her.

Nine

“Y
OU LOOK STUNNING
.” Cyd gently guided the zipper up the back of Stephanie's wedding gown. “Turn around so we can see you.”

The gown rustled as Stephanie turned toward Cyd and Claudia, beaming ear to ear. It was a dusty gold silk-organza strapless gown with an embroidered bodice and a lace-accented dropped waist. Cyd was surprised when Stephanie first selected it. She was far from traditional in style, of course, but every dress she'd considered had been white to off-white. This one she pointed to on a whim, “just to see,” but when she tried it on, she was quite taken with it.

To Cyd, after all the slopes and plunges of the white gowns, an unconventional color seemed a tame proposition. And looking at her now, Cyd couldn't imagine white or ivory having near the impact as this against Stephanie's bronze-colored skin. She was glowing.

Claudia held forth her arms as she walked toward Stephanie and hugged her tight. “You couldn't be more beautiful.” Her eyes held Stephanie's. “This is so you. I
love
this dress on you.” Her head bowed. “I said I wasn't going to cry.” She pulled a tissue from a box on the nightstand and dabbed an eye. “At least not yet. But seeing you dressed as a bride, in this room . . .”

They were in Stephanie's old room, in the house their parents bought when they first moved to St. Louis twenty-seven years ago. Only a few blocks from Wash U—and minutes from Cyd—their University City home had been remodeled extensively over the years. But “the girls' rooms” had remained largely untouched—white furniture, twin beds, and Nancy Drew on the shelves.

“We want to see,” several voices called on the other side of the door.

Stephanie had shooed her bridesmaids out before slipping into her gown. Now she faced the door and smiled broadly. “Ready!”

The door flung open, and six bridesmaids in various stages of dress gasped from where they stood.

“You didn't say it was gold!” Wendy said.

Tina had her hand to her mouth. “Oh my goodness! It's beautiful!”

As they filed in, the photographer with them, Cyd eased out, pulling her robe tighter. Some things never changed—her father had a thing about waiting until November to turn the heat on. She went down the hall to her own room, picked up her cell phone, and dialed Dana. Her brow furrowed when no one answered the home phone or cell phone, again. Was Dana okay? Was she even coming? Cyd couldn't imagine Dana missing Mackenzie and Mark in the wedding, but she was twenty minutes late and hadn't checked in.

Cyd sighed and sat on the cushioned stool of her pink floral and white vanity table. She needed to get dressed, but mind and body craved a short break. Stephanie had awakened her at 5:20 a.m.—the earliest yet—asking her to drive a bridesmaid to the airport to pick up her boyfriend. From there she'd put out one wedding-related fire after another, including a run to the nail salon for gold polish after Stephanie chipped her ring finger. It was only midmorning and she felt drained already . . . and a teensy bit sorry for herself because no one, not even her mother or father, had yet acknowledged her birthday.

She didn't
blame
anyone. They were busy. Things were hectic. But still . . . Cyd fingered a mood ring from among the cheap treasures stored in the vanity, slid it onto her pinky to see if it would change color, and threw it back down. Sighing, she rose and walked to the closet, tucking her hair behind both ears. She wasn't used to her hair falling about her face like this. The stylist had washed and blow-dried it this morning, working lots of loose curls throughout that cascaded down her shoulders and back. It looked beautiful, but as soon as the reception ended, she'd pull it back into her ponytail.

She eased her maid-of-honor dress from the hanger and laid it across the twin bed. The bridesmaids were wearing chocolate tissue taffeta gowns with shoulder straps and a camel-colored sash that reached almost to the floor. Cyd's was the opposite, a camel-colored gown with a chocolate sash.

Lord, I didn't want the wedding on my birthday, but it is, and it would be nice if somebody remembered
. She stared across the room.
But if the entire day passes without a single “Happy Birthday,” help me to be okay with that. Help me to focus on Stephanie and Lindell and celebrate with them from the heart
.

The doorbell snapped Cyd from her reflective posture. She hastened out of her bedroom and down the stairs to the front door and yanked it open. Dana's face brought relief, her eyes a renewed sorrow. Cyd held her gaze for a second, then smiled big.

“Mackenzie!” She wrapped her arms around the little girl. “Your hair is so pretty!”

The front half of Mackenzie's hair was gathered to the top of her head, with a fall of curls on the side and behind. Her natural blonde highlights seemed to shine. “Thank you, Aunt Cyd.” She stepped inside with a wide smile. “You wouldn't believe how long it took. I thought we'd
never
get out of there.”

“Honey,” Cyd confided in her ear, “I know what you mean. I thought the same thing this morning.”

When Dana crossed the threshold behind her, Cyd grabbed her hand and pulled her close. “I've been trying to call you all morning.”

Dana's face was drained of color. “My cell was turned off, and I wasn't answering the home phone.”

“Is that Miss Mackenzie who just arrived?” Claudia came from the kitchen and stopped a few feet away with her hands on her hips.

“You couldn't look any cuter.”

Mackenzie grinned again and went to hug her. “Hi, Grandma Claudia.”

Claudia tossed a few of the curls. “I can't wait to see you in your dress. You might be the prettiest one in the church.” She raised her eyes to Dana. “We missed you last night, sweetie. Everything all right?”

“I wish I could've been there,” Dana replied. “I had sort of an emergency.” Dana moved to hug her like normal, attempting a smile.

Cyd knew she was hoping to smooth Claudia's concerns. Claudia could read Dana as well as she read her own daughters.

Dana stood back. “I'm thinking
you'll
be the prettiest one in the church. That dress is gorgeous, Ma Claudia.”

Claudia tugged on her lace bolero jacket. “Cyd helped me pick it out. But I can't get used to the jacket. I keep wanting to pull it down.” Claudia looked classy as always in a floor-length gown with thin shoulder straps. The long-sleeved jacket was white lace.

Dana nodded her approval. “It's sharp. I love it.”

Claudia took a closer look at Dana. “You didn't answer my question. Are you all right? You look pale and sick or something.”

Dana glanced at Mackenzie. “Um . . . I'm okay.”

Claudia's expression showed doubt.

“Any bagels and fruit left, Mrs. Sanders?” Three bridesmaids were on their way to the kitchen in their dresses, pantyhose, and slippers.

Claudia nodded. “Plenty.”

Mackenzie perked up. “
French toast
bagels?”

“Yes, Papa Bruce made sure you had some French toast bagels.” Claudia picked up the small garment bag Dana had laid on the floor and took Mackenzie's hand. “Come with me. We'll get a quick bite, and I'll help you get dressed.” Claudia winked at Dana and Cyd over her shoulder. “I think your mom and Aunt Cyd need to talk.”

“They don't have time to talk.” Stephanie stood on the top stair with a hand on her hip. “I can't believe how late y'all are, Dana—and, Cyd, I can't believe you're not dressed. The photographer's ready to take pictures.”

Cyd and Dana mounted the hardwood and carpet-lined stairs, with Cyd giving Stephanie “the look.” She could ignore her sister, but Dana didn't need this right now.

“And, Dana, since you didn't make it last night, I'm thinking you must have had time on your hands to get some new flower girl shoes.”

Cyd sighed. “Steph, you have no idea—”

Dana raised her hand to Cyd. “Stephanie, trust me. I was in no position to buy shoes. And I would've been there if I could.” She hugged Stephanie when she got to the top of the staircase. “And you look too good to be stressing. This dress is ten times prettier than I remember it. You look gorgeous.”

Stephanie softened. “Thanks. Besides Momma and Cyd, you're the only one who saw it beforehand, you know.”

Dana smiled through her pain. “I know you love me.” She continued down the hall to the room she'd visited hundreds of times.

“Don't go in there and start talking,” Stephanie called after them. “Y'all need to dress in separate rooms so you can hurry up. The makeup artist is waiting for you, Cyd.”

Cyd had barely closed the door when she asked, “So what happened?”

Dana dropped her garment bag on the bed and flopped down beside it. “I don't even know where to start.”

Cyd picked up the package of pantyhose she'd left on top of the dresser and sat next to Dana. “Where was he coming from? What was his attitude?”

Dana stared vaguely at the floral pattern on the old bedspread. “He said he was sorry. He had tears, the whole bit.”

“Well . . . did he sound like he was really sorry, or are you thinking he was just sorry he got caught?”

Dana gave a shrug. Tears began to trickle down her cheeks. “He claims he's glad he got caught. He
claims
”—her voice broke, and she took a breath—“that it moved him back into close fellowship with God. He said he was up praying half the night and believes God will see us through this.”

She looked up finally, only because she rolled her eyes.

Cyd cocked her head. “Wow. Definitely wasn't expecting to hear all that.” She mulled it over a second. Actually, she would have expected that from the old Scott. It was just that the old Scott wouldn't have had the affair, so it was hard to know what to expect at this point. “So . . . you sound like you don't believe he's sincere.”

“After what he did?” Dana shook her head slowly, wiping the tears. “I just don't see how he could do this, Cyd. I don't see how he could let it get that far. He's always been so . . .” Dana searched for the word.

Cyd gave it to her. “Perfect.”

A knock sounded at the door. “Cyd, they sent me with a message. The makeup person needs to see you in five minutes.”

“Okay, Daddy.” Cyd pulled the pantyhose from the package, gathered one side, and stretched out her leg.

Dana stood and took off her sweat jacket and pants. “I never thought he was
perfect
.”