Metal Urge (24 page)

Ian carried a large tray out of the kitchen and cocked his head towards the dining room so that she and Thom would follow him.  The intoxicating smell of strong, dark tea filled the room as Ian poured cream into their cups along with a couple of sugar cubes before filling the cups with the fragrant brew.  Deanna breathed in the heady scent and sighed.  Surely this tea would calm her frazzled nerves.  It had been a whirlwind evening after Thom returned from rehearsal and they began their preparations for the “big day.”  This was not how she imagined her wedding day: three guests sitting in a tiny garden in Bilston while she and Thom said their vows in front of a Vicar neither of them knew.  No other family, with the exception of Thom's uncle and aunt; no friends…not one familiar face.  She had to blink back tears, hoping neither Thom nor his dad noticed.  To her relief, they were deep in conversation, not paying her any attention at the moment.

She excused herself and went upstairs to the bedroom Ian had pointed out was hers.  She took the dress she had purchased at a tiny bohemian shop in Chelsea out of its bag.  As she laid the dress on the bed, the fabric was soft and sumptuous in her hands.  She loved the feminine feel of it against her palms and between her fingers.  After carefully smoothing it out over the embroidered bedspread, she stepped back to get a detailed look at the beautiful dress.  The bodice was fabricated in soft ivory velvet, with pink satin ribbon laced through small, gold grommets running up the center of the velvet which could be cinched tightly to accentuate her trim waistline.  Long sleeves made of delicate hand-made lace in the same ivory shade and embellished with pink and white seed pearls trailed down to a wide bell shape.  She picked up the dress and pressed it against her body, admiring the way the top was designed to drape off of her shoulders while billowy, lace fabric flowed from the bottom of the bodice all the way down to the top of her feet.  The sales girl at the shop had placed a tiny wreath of flowers on her head and declared that she looked like a fairy princess.

So why didn’t she feel like one?

Deanna quickly shoved the thought aside and hung up the dress.  She was sorting through the rest of her things when Thom came up behind her and slid his arms around her waist.  He nuzzled the back of her neck and murmured how much he loved her.  Turning to face him, she kissed him with an ardor and a hunger that belied the anxiety gnawing at her guts.  She broke their passionate kiss when she heard Ian McCordy clear his throat.

“Sorry to interrupt, but I forgot to mention that you can meet with the vicar when his office opens at eight o’clock tomorrow morning, not eight-thirty as we were first advised.”

“Cheers, Da.”  Thom turned back to Deanna to resume their deliciously pleasurable kiss.  He felt a tap on his shoulder right before his dad pulled him gently away from her.

“Come along, boyo.  Don’t you know that it’s bad luck to spend time with your bride the night before your wedding?”

Thom shrugged and looked helplessly at Deanna while she laughed along with Ian at his dismay.

“Goodnight sweetie,” she said as Ian led him out of her bedroom.  She could hear Thom protesting loudly but it was all in fun, and when she finally snuggled under the bed clothes she felt almost at peace with her decision to marry the gorgeous, audacious Thomas Ian McCordy.

Chapter 31

Deanna awoke to the steady jarring thump of the steel mill.  Thom once told her that its incessant pounding became the normal rhythm of Midlands’s life.  You would carry it with you in your bones until the day you died.

She thought it would drive her mad.

Unable to ignore it while showering, she began to notice a familiar pattern which she suddenly recognized as the foundation of every Metal Urge song.  “Creeper, Creeper,” she sang softly, the cadence of the lyrics in synch with the steel mill’s endlessly beating metal heart.  At last she understood the meaning of “heavy metal” and why it was the perfect musical style for the five young men who grew up in the middle of this relentless industrial noise.  She felt ridiculously pleased with herself and laughed.  At times it had been hard to support Thom’s heavy musical tastes; she recalled craving ear plugs every time she heard Metal Urge perform.  Now a light had gone off in her conservative little head, and she felt proud of the bands creative use of such a negative force.  Despite her revelation, she still resented the steel mills’ intrusion on her wedding day.

Grabbing a thick cotton towel, Deanna dried off quickly, and threw on a ragged pair of jeans and a sweatshirt bearing the Arizona State University Sun Devils football team logo.  She hurried down to the kitchen and poured a large glass of orange juice.  It was just a few minutes after six a.m., and she was the only one up to greet the pleasantly cool dawn.  She had been forbidden to go into the back garden so she headed for the front yard to drink her juice and watch the neighborhood wake up on this early Saturday morning---the morning that would change her and Thom’s lives forever.  She shivered in the nippy air and took a long drink of the deliciously tart juice.  Next door a little boy was tossing a ball back and forth with a man she assumed was his father.  She was wondering why a small child would be up so early when the ball bounced into the yard, landing at her feet.

“Sorry!”  The man called out.  He jogged out to the sidewalk and stood at Ian’s wrought iron gate smiling at her.

She picked up the ball and carried it to him thinking that he looked vaguely familiar.  The boy ran up and hugged his leg, huge eyes staring up at her in fear of being scolded for letting the ball bounce into her yard.

“Cheers, love,” the man said as she handed him the errant ball.  He studied her and then cocked his head.  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you here before.”

She stared at his bright hazel eyes and frowned.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry,” he said, embarrassment coloring his face.

“Oh no, you weren’t prying.  It’s just that you look sort of familiar.”

“I’m Neville Guilford, but I don’t believe we’ve ever met.”  He thrust out his hand, but Deanna was too shocked to take it.

“Guilford?” she spluttered, her heart pounding.

“How stupid of me!” he laughed.  “You’re at the McCordy homestead so you must be Thom’s fiancé.  Ian has talked nonstop about you to my parents.”

Deanna laughed weakly and took a drink of orange juice to try and moisten her parched throat but it burned like fire making her cough.

“Are you alright?” Neville asked, taking a step towards her.

She jumped back and held out her hand.  “I’m fine.  Really.”

He looked as though he ought to feel a bit insulted but shrugged and smiled at her instead.  “Well, cheers again.  For the ball, I mean.  Max loves the silly thing.”

“Max?”

“My son,” he indicated the little boy still clinging to his leg.

“Maxwell,” the boy said and then hid his face in Neville’s trouser leg.

“It’s nice to meet you Maxwell.”  Deanna leaned towards the boy and he shouted, “Max!”

“It’s nice to meet you Maxwell Max.”

She looked at Neville and he winked at her when the boy came out from behind his leg and placed his hands on his hips.  “Maxwell Max isn’t a name, you silly lady.  It’s just Max.”

Deanna wanted to laugh.  She straightened up and nodded at the frowning child.  “You’re absolutely right so I'll call you Max; that is if you don’t mind.”

Max pondered her offer for a moment and then smiled brightly.  “Yeah,” he chirped and grabbed the ball from his dad.  He bounded off to the Guilford’s yard and Neville started to leave.  He turned back to Deanna for one last comment.

“You must know my brother, Nigel.”

She nodded but said nothing.

Neville walked through the gate and stood next to her, looking at Thom’s house, shaking his head.  “What happened in that house was such a horrible tragedy.  I’m sure Thom must have told you.”

“Well, yes,” she lied.  “But, if you would like to talk about it…?”

He crossed his arms and gazed at the house recalling memories best left alone.  He didn’t know why, but he felt compelled to talk to this pretty girl about it.  Perhaps to rid himself of bad memories that no one else, including Nigel, would allow themselves to purge.  He nodded and began:  “After Nigel told Chloe he intended to get their marriage annulled, she committed suicide in her parent’s bedroom.  Apparently it was an overdose of pills she found in their medicine cabinet.”  When he looked at Deanna, his gaze was solemn and a bit sad.

She had to use every ounce of self-control to keep from clamping her hands over her mouth and screaming in disbelief.  She managed to nod for him to go on and was grateful when he turned his gaze back to the house.

“Thom’s mum didn’t survive the shock of her daughter’s death.  She died less than a month later of heart failure.  Nigel was gutted...our entire family was gutted.  Even though we knew it wasn’t Nigel’s fault, there was this pervading sense of guilt which very nearly destroyed our family.”  Neville sighed heavily and continued.  “Nigel really wanted that baby even though he was just a young lad barely eighteen years old,” Neville shook his head.  “It’s too bloody bad that Chloe lied about her pregnancy.  I think that hurt him almost as much as her death.  I don’t believe the poor bloke has ever really gotten over the awful mess although it’s been over six years.  He sighed and smiled at Deanna.  “I’m chuffed to see that he and
Thom managed to re-connect and remain best mates.  They were joined at the hip when they were growing up, the two of them and Chloe.  They did everything together.  I was considerably older and felt fortunate that my baby brother didn‘t trail after me all the time.”

Deanna didn’t know if her legs would carry her across the yard and into the house but she wanted to get as far away as possible from this man with Nigel’s eyes who knew every intimate detail of his life: a life he never bothered to share with her which would have explained why love and commitment turned him off so badly that he couldn’t wait to get the hell away from her.  And the baby…Chloe and Nigel’s baby.  Neville said Nigel really wanted it.  Would he have felt the same about their baby?  No.  He loved Chloe.  He married her, but he dumped the naïve American twit who stupidly blurted out her love for him.  That said it all.  His tragic past had no bearing on what had happened between them so she could just forget about trying to justify his actions using that angle.  It was her wedding day---to Thom.  He was the man that loved her, not Nigel Guilford, and she needed to prepare for the ceremony that would begin their new life together.  Oh God, poor Thom!  His mother and his sister dead because of Nigel; it was too awful to believe.

Her thoughts continued to race and everything was starting to spin so she barely heard Neville talking about what a coincidence it was that “Thom was marrying a Yank because Nigel had been involved with a Yank but only for a short time” when the world went black and she heard no more.

Someone was patting her face.  She pushed their hand away wondering why they would do such an annoying thing.  She opened her eyes and giant hazy figures crowded around her, swaying like ghosts.  They frightened her.  She sat up, flailing her arms to scare the ghosts away.  “Take it easy Deanna.  I’m here, baby,” she heard Thom say over all of the eerie murmuring.  “What…what happened?” she said, clutching Thom’s arm like it was a life line.

He leaned close to her, his eyes filled with love and concern.  “You fainted while talking with Neville Guilford.”

“I did?”  She looked around at the figures which were gradually becoming clear.  She recognized Ian and Neville and Max but not the others who were smiling at her with relief.  Everyone stepped back as Ian helped Thom lift her to her feet.  “Why would I do that?” she laughed nervously.

“Let’s just get you into the house so the doctor can have a look at you.”

She tried to pull away from Thom and Ian as they walked her to the house.  “No doctor.  Please Thom.  I’m fine, really I am.”

“Fainting isn’t normal, Deanna. You’re still healing, yeah?”

“What do you mean by healing?  In my mind?  Are you saying that I’m crazy?”

Once inside the house, they led her to the couch and Thom sat down, gathered her in his arms, and stroked her hair trying to calm and reassure her.  “Of course you’re not crazy, sweet girl, but Dr. Hillman did say your hormones could affect your emotional and physical state for quite some time to come.  Remember?  You’ve been under a tremendous amount of pressure what with school, your job, and now this hasty wedding.  It was bound to affect you.”

She remembered the episode at the hospital the day she had to face the possibility of being expelled from school.  When she read the details of her miscarriage she had come close to fainting.  Did Ian know about her miscarriage?  God, she hated appearing weak and fragile in front of people she barely knew, especially her soon–to-be father-in-law.  It seemed her
wedding day was destined to be ruined because of hormones---or was it Nigel?  She pulled away from Thom stating that she wanted to go upstairs and rest for a while.

Lying on the bed, stiff and sore from dropping like a sack of potatoes to the ground, she burned with anger at the fact that Nigel Guilford still invaded every aspect of her life: twisting, turning, shaping each event so he could sabotage and destroy any chance she had at peace and happiness.  What were the odds of running into his older brother?  A brother who seemed so keen to share juicy tidbits of Nigel’s wretched past with a virtual stranger?  It boggled the mind.

“The doctor's here,” Thom announced from the bedroom doorway before leading another unwelcome stranger into her life.

She gritted her teeth while the doctor examined her.  She lay there listening to Thom give him the details of her miscarriage and the burn on her palm.  The doctor checked the thick, red scar that ran the length of her hand and asked a battery of intrusive questions about her private parts and her sex life.  After a perfunctory examination of her breasts and a quick listen to her belly with an ice cold stethoscope, he said she seemed fine, but it would be prudent for her to see her own doctor when she got back to London---just as a precaution.  He finally gave her half a dozen tranquilizers---to be used with caution of course---and left.  Deanna didn’t want to be angry with Thom when he suggested they postpone the wedding, but she found it difficult not to be until he skillfully kissed and caressed her anger away.  She silently vowed they would get married as planned and proceeded to convince Thom with sweet kisses and caresses of her own.  With a contented sigh he gave in and agreed but felt it necessary to add that it was against his better judgment.

“To hell with your judgment,” Deanna said blithely.  “Today is my special day and nothing is going to ruin it.

****

There was a tremendous amount of banging and scraping going on in the back garden as Deanna pinned up her hair using a set of crystal flower and butterfly clips that Ian McCordy had presented her with after Thom was banished from her room the night before.  He said his wife wore them in her hair on the day they were married, and he would be honored if she wore them on her wedding day.  She was touched by his gift and eagerly accepted the delicate clips.  They were old and had probably been handed down through many generations of his wife’s family which made them even more special.  She leaned back and stared at her reflection, satisfied with the way the clips sparkled in her blonde curls, and how several long, loose tendrils of hair framed her face and softened her features.  She was glad she hadn’t bought a veil or the little wreath of flowers because the glittering clips were just the right accessory for her velvet and lace peasant gown.  They were a fitting tribute to Thom’s mother which would no doubt please him tremendously.

After applying a light dusting of blush and pale pink lip gloss she donned her wedding gown and picked up an exquisite cascading bouquet of Calla lilies, pink rose buds, and delicate green fern tied with ivory and pink satin bows and lightly pressed the flowers to her nose.  She had no idea how Thom knew those were her favorite flowers just as he had known a Victorian engagement ring was her heart’s desire, but he did, and she loved him all the more for it.  As she took one last look at her image in the mirror her heart squeezed painfully at the thought that her parents would not be here to share in her joy.  After a last
minute phone call to them that morning, she was crushed when she heard the pain and bewilderment in their voices when they learned their only child was getting married that very day to a man they had never met and knew nothing about.  She tried to explain but it was no use.  Her father hung up the phone while her mother sobbed in the background.  All she could do was try and call them again later.  Hopefully they would be willing to talk to Thom.  Maybe he could reassure them, convince them that he loved their daughter, and the two of them were going to have a long and happy life together.

****

Ian knocked on Deanna’s bedroom door, feeling a bit more nervous than he ought to.  There was something unsettling about the girl’s mishap that he couldn’t seem to shake; not since Neville Guilford knocked frantically at his door, urging him to call a doctor.  Thom had told him enough about Deanna’s miscarriage to know that the child wasn’t fathered by his son, but that was all he knew.  While waiting with Neville for the doctor to arrive, the young man mentioned how odd it was that Nigel had dated a blonde American girl who was going to school in London just as Thom’s fiancé was doing.  That set the alarm bells ringing in Ian’s head, and now as he stood ready to walk her down the aisle, he realized that Deanna and Nigel’s ex-girlfriend were one in the same.  Dear God, her baby had been fathered by Nigel Guilford!  He could hardly believe that she was marrying his son only two short months after losing the baby.  What in bloody hell was going on here?

When Deanna opened the door, Ian was looking at her strangely.  He blinked a couple of times and smiled, but it was a forced smile and it didn’t reach his eyes.  She hesitated before following him down the stairs.

“You take care not to hurt my boy,” he said in a vaguely hostile tone.

She stepped back and stared at him, her mouth going dry.  Was Ian threatening her?

He leaned towards her and took her hand, tucking it into the crook of his arm, speaking quietly.  “I know that you’re Nigel’s ex and that it was his baby you lost so if this is some kind of game you’re playing with my son, I won’t have it. You hear me darlin’?”

Deanna pulled away and faced him. “It’s no game Mr. McCordy.  I love Thom, and he knows exactly what happened. He was there when I lost the baby.”

Ian looked at her with disbelief and mumbled, “Indeed?”

Reluctant to take his arm again, Deanna finally relented, and they began their stiff, awkward descent down the aisle.  She barely noticed the harpist playing “Here Comes the Bride,” or the huge white baskets filled with Calla lilies and pink roses that lined the red carpeted walkway leading to the lace canopy near the garden wall where Thom stood waiting for her.  She did notice the extra chairs that held Neville, Max, and two women, along with an older couple; the man the spitting image of Nigel.  How fitting that Ian McCordy believed she was nothing more than Nigel’s devious ex-whore taking advantage of his son while Nigel’s family bore witness to the entire spectacle.  The only thing that would make the disastrous ceremony complete would be Nigel sitting ringside with a haughty smirk on his face.

She couldn’t help but look around for him, believing that he would destroy what was supposed be the happiest day of her life.  As tears threatened to fall she felt a warm hand clasp her shaking hand which was cold and clammy with sickening dread.  Her eyes slowly focused on Thom’s questioning face.  He squeezed her hand and smiled radiantly.  She smiled back, forcing the sour bile back into her roiling stomach.  She tried to appreciate how dashing and incredibly handsome he looked in his traditional English wedding suit, but Ian’s angry voice echoed in her mind spoiling their intimate moment.