Jinxed (23 page)

“Miss Frannie Sullivan, will you be my wife?”

Lips in a wide curve, she made sure her voice was loud, sure and steady. “Yes.”

He slid the ring on her hand and rose to capture her lips. Joyous sounds filled the cavernous room as she grew drunk with his kisses. When they finally broke apart, she circled his neck. Eyes closed against a sudden gush of fear, she whispered into his ear,

“I love you. I’ll be yours as long as you want me.”

Always organized, Tracey produced a change of clothes from the car so Frannie didn’t spend dinner looking like a bad understudy for Glenda the Good Witch of the North. Jinx couldn’t stop touching her and she had to physically push him out of the bathroom so she could pee. And then, knowing he was standing outside the door listening, she couldn’t go. She finally opened the door, smacked a quick kiss on his mouth and told him to go to the dining room so she could pee in peace.

Tracey and Steve were officially adopted and stayed for dinner. Conversations flew from every direction but Frannie could not recall a single word. Her chair scooted close to his, she and Jinx spent most of the meal gazing at each other in sheer happiness. Pie and cake were being passed around when Mike spoke of needing to catch an early flight and asked if Alex could take them to the airport.

“You and Anne can’t leave now,” Jinx interrupted. “I’m getting married tomorrow and I need a best man.”

“Tomorrow? Tomorrow! Are you crazy?” Coffee burned her lip as Frannie sputtered and spat. Once more they became the center of attention. She’d thought she would have months to get used to the idea of a wedding. He might even back out beforehand. She should have known he would have to do things differently. When had
ordinary
ever been good enough for him
? Don’t go there, Frannie. Not today.

“We can’t get married tomorrow,” she argued.

“Yes, we can.” His stubborn streak emerged and she bucked it.

“Jinx, think about it. We have no plans, no license, nothing.”

“Fine. Then the day after tomorrow.”

“You’re not being reasonable. We don’t have rush into this.”

“Frannie, I’m not waiting. You said yes, finally, and we’re getting married, the sooner the better.”

“Jinx, listen to me.” Lovingly, she smoothed her fingers along his jaw line. “I know I messed up last night but I’m not going anywhere now. I want to marry you. There’s no reason to go into hyperdrive with this thing. Slow down.”

“No. I’ve got you now and I have no intentions of giving you enough time to freak out on me.”

Frannie growled in frustration and buried her hands in her hair. “Listen, fruit loop, you can’t just announce something like that. Unless you want to elope, weddings take time.”

“No eloping.” Beverly was firm in this and sent them both behave-or-you-are-sitting-in-a-corner looks.

“The Blue Jay can handle the reception.” Jinx nodded as if these plans were real. Frannie peeked from beneath the hands she ran over her face.

“You can’t assume a restaurant will be available just because you want them to be, nutball.”

“The hell I can’t. I own the damn place. They better be available.” At his forceful announcement, Frannie’s jaw dropped.

I own some real estate,
he’d said. It was like saying Chicago had had a little fire trouble.

“Okay, so what, we need a week? Fine, we’re getting married in a week.” Perfectly at ease with his pronouncement, Jinx forked a bite of strawberry pie off her plate and popped it into his mouth before smiling at her.

“Jinx, you’re beyond crazy this time. A week from today is New Year’s Day, a day for football, tailgate parties and hangovers. Nobody wants to come to a wedding on New Year’s.”

“Fine. January second then. A week and a day. Works for me.”

“You’re a lunatic!” Jumping to her feet, she gaped at him. “Nobody can plan a wedding in a week and a day!”

“Ahem.” Rachel’s quietly cleared throat brought all attention to her. The dark-haired woman idly toyed with her fork and smiled at her brother. “You never told Frannie what I do for a living, did you?”

Chuckling, Jinx grinned up at Frannie. “Rachel owns Forever Yours Bridal Services.”

Gulping, Frannie wildly searched for Steve in the crowded room. He smirked at her.
Some mouse. He’d turned into a rat.
Desperately, she looked for some other way to delay this quickie wedding. Her eyes landed on the winter floral centerpiece she’d picked up for Jinx just yesterday.

“Flowers! We can’t be sure a florist could have flowers in just a week.”

Rachel waved the concern away. “I got you covered with flowers. And the cake. I can even get some lit archways for the reception area. The Blue Jay has enough nice table linens and centerpieces. Oh, and I have some beautiful floral swags for the church pews.”

“A church!” Frannie latched onto the word like a calf to a teat. “We don’t have a church. Or a minister!”

“St. John’s Lutheran Church on Bradley Street, Pastor Charles Brightwell.” Jinx stood and bowed slightly. “I talked to him last week. He’s just waiting for a call from us.”

“Last week?” The tremor in her lips made her words vibrate. He had spoken to a minister? He was making plans before last night? The implication of his commitment shook her very core.

“So what else do we need?” Tenderly putting his arm around her shoulder, Jinx looked around the room. Frannie watched in pre-bridal horror as suggestions and offers leapt from every direction like popcorn in a kettle.

“I can play the piano,” Derek excitedly proclaimed.

“I know where you can find the perfect dress,” Tracey piped in with a sly grin.

“If you guys give me a list, I can email invitations tonight,” Matthew said, intently stuffing his mouth with chocolate cake.

“Oh no, email invitations are so tacky. At least let me call everyone.” Beverly cast hopeful eyes at her youngest who shrugged.

“I have some brand new video equipment I use for the boys’ basketball team,” Carl grinned.

“Oh, yeah, and I got a great Nikon camera with a whole set of lenses for my birthday. I’ll even make you up an album as a wedding present,” Alex jumped in.

“I think I can handle a bachelor party on New Year’s Eve,” Mike said with a laugh.

“And we can throw you a bridal shower slash luncheon!” Anne squealed, nodding to Beverly, who agreed.

Pandemonium ran rampant and Frannie stood in stunned silence as her wedding got planned around her. Madness tippy-toed up her back and she cast her gaze around, looking for an anchor. Steve caught her panic, rose from his place and looked deep into her eyes, grounding her somewhat.

“I know your father has passed away. I’d be honored if you let me take that role.”

Teary-eyed, Frannie ran the few paces and hugged him hard. He patted her back. “I’d love it if you’d give me away.”

Always the surrogate big brother, he tweaked her nose. “I’ll never do that, but I’ll walk you down the aisle.”

Rachel had scrounged up a notebook and frantically scribbled away. She checked off each listing as she spoke. “Flowers, decorations, church, minister, music, reception, dress, bachelor and bachelorette parties, video and photography, gown and escort. Did we miss anything?”

“Rings.” Tracey scooped up a stray bit of cake frosting with her finger and stuck it in her mouth. “Loverboy has time to get those, though. And don’t forget about a license. You need to get that first. Just think, Frannie, you don’t even have to change your name.”

Great, then I won’t misspell it when I sign the voluntary commitment forms.

Frannie stood with her arms covering her head, shielding the craziness from seeping further into her skull. People talked around her, over her and behind her. Panic clawed at her brain like rats in an attic. This was really happening. She was marrying Jinx. In a week and a day. This was not a relax-and-plot-out-what-comes-next event. This was Wedding Warfare 101.

Attack on all fronts.

Battle
stations!

Alert! Alert!

All hands on deck!

Mayday! Mayday!

Dear Gawd, what have I done?

“Frannie?” Jinx’s low voice broke through her anxiety and she peeked at him from between her elbows. Concern was etched into every millimeter of his face. Just the sight of him made her heart lighter. She wanted this. More than anything she had ever wanted before. Even for a little while, she wanted the dream.

“What are you thinking, dollface?”

Her arms snapped down and she nodded determinedly. “Let’s do this. Full steam ahead, fruit loop. Wedding in a week and a day, no problem. I just need a couple dozen Xanax.”

The tree was dark when Frannie unlocked her door. She’d been too involved in her mission to remember to turn it on. Absolute exhaustion bled from her frame as she kicked off her boots. Jinx helped her out of Rachel’s borrowed coat then hung it on the newel post.

Blowing out a fatigued sigh, he leaned against the closed front door in the darkened hallway.

“It’s been a hell of a day, dollface.”

“You aren’t kidding there.”

Itchy eyed, she rubbed the heels of her hands against her eye sockets. The ring on her left hand snagged a stray hair and pulled sharply. The diamond caught the dim light of the distant street lamp and winked at her, mocking her.
Fool! You can’t lie to him forever!

Like someone walking over her grave, her shoulders trembled suddenly. With two steps, he was there, cupping her shoulders from behind and nuzzling her hair.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Just tired. Like you said, it’s been a hell of a day.” He released her and she headed for the stairs. Jinx moved to take off his wet boots. “Are you staying, then?”

Her question seemed to catch him off guard and he cocked his eyebrow, one boot dangling from his foot. “If it’s all right, yeah, I’d like to stay tonight.”

“Won’t your family be worried?”

Dropping the boot with a thud, he chuckled and walked to the staircase. Two steps below her, he smiled up at her, devilment in his eyes. “I’m well over eighteen and newly engaged. I don’t think my family expects me home tonight.”

One word leapt out of his mouth and slammed into her chest like concrete. Sitting with a heavy bump, she stared at him. “Engaged? Oh my Gawd, we are engaged, aren’t we? This is real. We’re getting married. I’m awake, we’re alone and we’re getting married. In a week and a day.”

Long gentle fingers feathered her bangs away from her rounded eyes before trailing to stroke her cheek. In the semidarkness, his awed voice was hushed. “It feels incredible, doesn’t it? I think it’s just sinking in for me too. It’s happening. We’re definitely getting married.”

Love deepened his eyes and he bent to kiss her. Bracing his hands on the step behind her, Jinx moved closer, his lips just a fraction of an inch from hers.

“Jinx?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to throw up.”

She left him leaning there, balanced on his hands, and scrambled up the stairs and out of sight. Lowering himself onto her vacated step, he heard her vomiting through the closed door. Elbows on his knees, he buried his head in his hands.

“That’s not exactly the reaction I was hoping for.”

Chapter Twelve

“Once in a while, right in the middle of an ordinary life,

Love gives us a fairy tale.”

—Anonymous

Mike ended up flying back to California with a promise to return in a few days. Anne and Alex stayed behind while the rest of Jinx’s family dug in for an extended stay. Tracey and Frannie rushed around doing first- and last-minute details in the same day. She found it ridiculously easy to get time off from work. All she did was call McGee, mention wedding, Buddies’ and invitation in the same sentence. He not only promised to attend but gave her an extra week off. Jinx had a harder time and ended up working late most nights to manage.

Since Tracey would be her only attendant, Frannie told her to pick her own dress. Snorting, Tracey informed her she’d bought one dress in the past five years and she would wear the red-beaded gown again. Rachel loved the idea and planned for a bridal bouquet of white and red roses. Rachel also loved her carousel unicorn. Suddenly, Frannie had a color scheme and napkins printed with a merry-go-round horse.

Things fell into place like a child’s puzzle. “Fated,” Jinx said, laughing.

Fate had nothing to do with it. It was that Frannie didn’t care. It didn’t matter whether she carried roses or tulips, danced to Frank Sinatra or Alabama, wore her hair up or down. It simply didn’t matter. She agreed with whatever Rachel wanted because Rachel wanted to make her brother’s day special. And that was enough for Frannie. She’d had her dream wedding and her nightmare divorce. This was window dressing. Jinx wanted a wedding so a wedding he would get. All she had to do was shave her legs and show up.

The only bit of friction came when she insisted on signing a prenuptial agreement. Jinx had balked and she argued until finally Dave convinced him it would be a smart move. Jinx shrugged and complied, stating it wasn’t worth the paper it was printed on because there would never be a divorce.

Yeah, right. Sign the damn thing, fruitcake. One thing you won’t ever be able to throw in my face is that I took you to the cleaners.

The Boys spent the week helping Frannie pack up her house and move to Jinx’s. Hocus drew blood on each young male before she caught the feline and squeezed him into his carrier. As box after box left her home, Frannie doubted her decision. Her stomach churned each time she thought of the future. Rolaids became her main food source and she contemplated buying stock in Pepto-Bismol. When the realtor listed her house as an available rental, Frannie came very close to running away to join the circus.

The only time she believed she was doing the right thing was late at night in Jinx’s arms. Only there could she find peace in her love for the zany man with the midnight eyes.

{

He could hear her retching. Again. The sound rattled through him. Absently, he stroked Pocus, who was curled in the center of his bed. The damned cat was snoring again. The click of the door latch yanked Jinx’s head up.

“Are you pregnant?” he blurted out.

Frannie had just exited the bathroom. Her eyes wide and her lips parted in surprise, she swung to look at him. He sat at the foot of the bed, tense as an oak board. The shadows under her eyes were deepening every morning. She’d vomited at least twice a day that he knew of and had stopped drinking coffee. What else could it be?

“No. I’m not.” Her eyes never met his and a weight dropped in his gut.

“You sure? You’ve been throwing up a lot lately. And no coffee? You’re practically addicted to the stuff.”

Rather than answer him right away, she went to one of the boxes that still held her clothes and started putting folded underwear in an empty drawer. One shoulder lifted almost incrementally and she spoke to the dresser. “I’ve been on the pill for a long, long time and have never missed one.”

Hands braced wide beside him on the mattress, he furrowed his brows. He knew very little about women’s bodies, other than what to do with them. Dragging his mind back to freshman biology class, he struggled to remember more. He did know when her last period had been. He’d stood in the damn store for thirty minutes reading tampon boxes. There had been a few pregnancy scares in his life but he usually was on the other side, the one being told there might be a problem. As a teenager, he’d sat in terror on her pink bedspread while Becca huddled in the bathroom waiting for the stick to change colors. After college, she’d just brought a test home, took it and then told him after the fact they’d dodged a bullet. Twice. Had he hit a bull’s eye this time without even aiming? Only one way to find out.

His feet hit the carpeting without a sound and he grabbed his jacket off the chair. The left pocket bulged. She never raised her eyes from the dresser drawer until he set the small rectangular box in front of her.

“Humor me?”

“Jinx.” Her tired exasperation was clear in the one word but she did pick up the box. “You’ve got to stop hanging out in the women’s hygiene aisle. It’s too early to test, even if I needed to. I’m not pregnant.”

“You’re not sleeping, you vomit constantly. Something’s wrong, Frannie. Take the test. Even if it’s only to reassure me.”

She didn’t say anything but after a long minute went into the bathroom. Jinx thought he might pace but that seemed too cliché so instead he just leaned on the wall outside the closed door and bounced his skull against the drywall. The distant sounds of the Boys cheering while they watched football faded beneath the pounding of his heart. Silence stretched and it seemed like forever until he heard her pee.

Her gown hung on the edge of the closet frame, encased in plastic. Tomorrow would be the first time he saw it. Would she be carrying another life down the aisle? Blowing out a pent-up breath, he closed his eyes. He wasn’t sure whether he wanted the test to be positive or negative. If it was positive, then life changed
now
. There would be another soul to consider in every decision. They would have a child. But it would explain Frannie’s behavior and ease his mind. He’d also be a father a lot sooner than he planned.
Holy shit
.

If it was negative, then he was no better off. Something was still different about Frannie. Something he had no idea how to fix. Even though she fought it, she was scared shitless and he had no idea why. But he would have time to discover what it was. Time for just the two of them to settle in as a married couple. Time they desperately needed.

The door opened and he pushed off the wall a bit too hard, ending up in her path. He looked for any clue in her face. His heart pounded like a marathon runner. She looked steadily at his chest and handed him the now empty box and a long white stick. Then she turned and went back to the dresser. Steeling his stomach, he glanced down.

One line
.

He had no clue what it meant. Searching the back of the box, he sighed.

Not pregnant.

“You’re disappointed.”

He looked up and realized he was. “A little. Are you?”

“No.”

The flatness in her tone sent needles of unease across his skin once more. “I do want children one day, Frannie.”

“I know. You told me. Three, you said.”

“And you said you wanted two. Well, one maybe two. Has that changed?”

Was that guilt that flashed in her eyes?

“No, it hasn’t changed. I just want to wait a while, that’s all.” She smiled at him with false joy and wrapped her arms around his waist. “I think I’m getting an ulcer. A lot less exciting than a baby, huh? That’s why I dropped the coffee. It makes it worse.”

“An ulcer? You’re sure that’s all it is?”

“Of course,” she piped brightly and kissed him quickly before returning to the drawer.

Her thin attempt at optimism chilled him. Clenched in confusion, his gut lurched with cold fear. Frannie was lying. And he knew it.

{

It rained the day of her wedding. Icy bombs of frozen tears coated every surface with a hard shell of crystalline glamour that cracked when you touched it. It seemed appropriate.

There had been no time for a rehearsal but it didn’t much matter. She knew the drill. Sliding the cool fabric of her gown over her head, Frannie chugalugged back her terror.
Step, together, step, together, step, together, step. I can do this. I want this. He doesn’t have to know it’s a lie.

Tracey poked her head around the door just as Frannie threw up again. She waited just long enough for the toilet to flush before she pounced.

“Are you pregnant?”

“What? No.”

“You sure? You’ve been tossing cookies like your name was Keebler.”

“I’m sure. Trust me, I took a test.”
I wish people would stop asking me that.
After rinsing her mouth with water and gargling with a half a travel bottle of Scope, Frannie blotted her mouth with toilet paper. She reached for her makeup kit. It was going to take a huge amount of concealer to hide her dark circles.

“Hey, you forgot to take the price tag off your dress.” Tracey made a grab at the small bit of paper attached to the back by a thin plastic string when Frannie whipped around.

“No! Leave it on. It has better resale value that way. The jacket covers it. No one will see it.”

The blue-eyed woman looked at her with pitying eyes before pursing her painted lips. “You’re going into this thing all wrong, Frannie. Think positive. If you think defeat, you’ll get defeat.”

“I’m thinking survival, so I’ll take it,” Frannie snapped.

Throwing up her hands, Tracey backed out of the small bathroom off the minister’s office. “Fine, have it your way, Burger King.”

Frannie watched her Maid of Honor huff out the door before reaching for her face powder. Her hand shook so badly it slipped from numb fingers and plopped into the open toilet making a dull
shwapp
. With a sob, she stared at the ruined compact.

This is so not a good omen.

Matthew and Derek shot each other with rubber bands until Carl snapped at them to grow up. The large Sunday school classroom smelled faintly of dried Elmer’s glue and Kool-Aid, making Jinx’s nose itch. Seated on a folding chair, elbows on his knees, he hung his head. Unease filled him.

Frannie hadn’t been herself for days. She tried to hide it, smiling brightly for him whenever he looked at her. She responded when he made love to her. She even whispered
I love you
as she drifted to sleep. But she wasn’t happy. Weren’t diamonds and wedding rings supposed to make a woman happy? A chill trickled down his spine as a terrifying thought occurred to him. Not raising his head, he closed his eyes and prayed.

“Matt, do me a favor?”

“Sure, Uncle Jay.”

“Go see if Frannie is actually here.”

Understanding widened the young man’s eyes and he scampered from the room. Mike settled on a chair beside his brother, his knees cracking like popcorn.

“You think she might bolt?”

Jinx choked back his fear and shrugged. “I’d just feel better knowing she’s here. When she went to stay at Tracey’s last night, I got this weird vibe from her.”

Mike was quiet a long minute before he casually tossed out his brotherly advice. “You do know you don’t have to rush this, right? Just go out there and tell everyone the wedding’s been postponed and let them party at the reception.”

“No.” Jinx was firm. “I want this. And so does she. I know it. It’s just something I can’t put my finger on.”

Matt skidded into the room with a wide grin on his face that soothed Jinx before he heard any words. “Yep, she’s here. Alex is taking pictures of her right now. And Mom said people are starting to show up too, so we better get moving on usher duties.”

Mike and Carl hustled the younger men out of the room, leaving Jinx alone to sit and think.

She was here.

They were getting married.

He loved her.

She loved him.

So why does this feel like a ticking time bomb?

At the end of the aisle, Jinx stood beside the minister in front of a small gathering of friends and family. His emotions swung between two extremes, intense joy and frigid dread. Until he saw Frannie with his own two eyes, he couldn’t let go of the feeling that something was off-kilter. Uncertainty brewed in his belly like an eighth grader’s chemistry project. One word chanted over and over in his head.
Please.
But he couldn’t really even say what he was praying for.
Please. Please. Please.

Derek played the baby grand with a smooth elegance that made his mother beam with pride. Rachel had called in a ton of favors and pulled off a miracle. Anyone looking at the church would have thought she’d been planning the wedding for months. Things should have been perfect.

But they weren’t.

Nerves stretched to the breaking point, Jinx’s knees imitated the San Andreas Fault line. Derek, on some hidden cue from the back of the church, paused his prelude piece and then pounded out an announcement rhythm. A rocket burst in Jinx’s stomach. His wedding was beginning. With one deep, careful breath, he turned and stared down the long church aisle. Tracey, in sparkling red, stepped into the sanctuary and began her walk. She looked almost normal, he noted, except for the bright red tips her black spikes now sported. But where was Frannie?

And then she was there. An invisible boulder smashed into his gut as she stepped into the doorway on Steve’s arm. Colored by love’s forgiving brush, she was beautiful. The white gown shimmered against her skin like winter moonlight. Curled and piled high, her hair framed her bourbon eyes and whispered along her cheek. A wispy veil trailed behind her like an ethereal mist. His fear evaporated.

She was here.

She was beautiful.

She was his.

My Frannie.

Derek played a traditional wedding march and everyone rose. Eyes closed as she stepped, she seemed a vision of serene elegance. One arm linked through Steve’s, she clutched a bouquet of blood red roses that danced in her hands.

Danced? Roses don’t dance.

Halfway down the aisle, it dawned on him. Her flowers shook because
she
was shaking. Opening her eyes, Frannie focused on him and stopped. She stopped walking so fast Steve ended up one step ahead of her. Her chest heaved and she swallowed.