Authors: Julie Carobini

Sweet Waters (29 page)

BOOK: Sweet Waters

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I lean toward Josh. “Who are
they?”

He slides his arm around me and whispers, his lips grazing my ear. “That's Beth's slimy ex-husband, Gordon, and his new girlfriend.”

I steal a glance at Beth, who's smiling into Billy's face now. My gaze finds Josh. “She seems to have moved on quite well.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “So you're saying I should let it go then.”

I let loose a teasing, but exasperated laugh. “I'm not assessing you . . . just making an observation.”

Josh quirks the corner of his mouth, then releases a sigh. “You're right. I guess.” A small laugh escapes him. “I still think the guy's slime.”

“All that hair gel, probably.”

He's smiling fully now and running his eyes over my face. Crowd? What crowd? At this moment, all I see, all I smell, all I hear, is Josh.

The familiar notes of “The Wedding March” begin to play, signaling the bride's impending entrance. The crowd stands and, with reluctance, we join them. As we turn to face the center aisle, Josh rests a hand on my waist, sending a quiver through me.

Tears well up behind my eyes as the woman in white, someone I've never even met, takes her place at the top of a flowing carpet of rose pedals. Something about that song always does that to me. I swallow the emotion rushing its way through my body and slide a glance to see if Josh's reaction mirrors my own. He doesn't notice, though, because his eyes are fixated not on the bride, or on me, but somewhere across the aisle.

As the bride and her father make their entrance, and cameras begin to pop and flash, and tissues start to do their work, I follow Josh's line of vision. He's staring at his father, who stands beside his mother, laughing outright in the very last row on the bride's side.

Chapter Twenty-eight

After the “I dos,” Josh's mother kisses his cheek. She offers me a hug. “Such a lovely ceremony, wasn't it?”

I nod.

Josh rubs my back. “Mother, where's Dad?”

Shirley wiggles her hand into the air, as casual as can be. “Oh, you know your father. He's probably found some friends to chat with.”

Josh's back rub intensifies, along with the strained look in his eyes. “Maybe you ought to go find him.”

Shirley's smile is wide, carefree. “Joshua, you mustn't worry. Your father's just fine. He'll be along any minute.” She pats his shoulder. “I'll ask him to stop by your table.”

I cut in. “Won't you be joining us?”

She looks to Josh whose masseur moment has ended, as I gently extricate myself. She places both hands on my shoulders. “My word, she's simply lovely, Joshua.” She squares her gaze on me now. “You truly are. It seems that the seating has already been pre-arrangedâthere are place cards at each table. Oh, but I do hope you and Josh will join us for dinner soon. Make him promise you, all right?”

“Absolutely. I will.”

Josh squires me away to a table bordering the dance floor. The reception is being held adjacent to the ceremony site, beneath a mansion-sized tent. Thousands of tiny white lights lace themselves around silk trees and flower-laden trellises creating a virtual garden of Eden.

Josh holds my chair out for me and I take a seat next to Beth. Maybe we'll get a chance to actually talk instead of just smiling at each other over our dates. Although he sits down and holds my hand beneath the table, Josh seems distracted. Billy's pouring the wine that had been set out for us, but Josh turns his goblet over with his free hand. Billy's carrying on about some strange call to the station involving burning marshmallows and a faulty smoke alarm. The rest of the guests at our table, two couples in their twenties or so, laugh in all the appropriate places.

“Everybody, I'd like you to meet . . . my girlfriend, Tara Sweet.” Josh squeezes my hand and I realize that I'm tottering a bit. Girlfriend. He called me his girlfriend, which I suppose is true considering we've been exclusive for oh, say, two weeks now. Except for those occasional disagreements.

One of the women, a firefighter I soon learn, reaches across to shake my hand. “I'm Reese. Good to meet you.” She gives me one firm pump of the arm, as if I were a hatchet. The men follow suit.

“I'm Thomas. Hi.”

“Hey, Tara. I'm Joey.” He gestures to the petite woman sitting next to him, who's smiling shyly my way. “And this is Carolyn, but we all call her CeCe.” She raises her hand and wiggles four fingers at me.

As the conversation progresses it's clear that most of them know each other from the station. Except CeCe, who sits quietly with a pleasant but rather blank expression on her face. I'm pretty sure we haven't met before, but her name does have a familiar ring.

“A toast!” Billy's standing now, holding a goblet out before him. “To firefighters . . . in love.”

Snickers and hoots and laughter erupt all around the table. Joey cinches CeCe in close as she blushes profusely. Reese smacks a loud kiss on Thomas's mouth, and Billy bends down and brushes his lips across Beth's cheek.

Josh just grins and shakes his head. He looks to me and his eyes glow as if all distraction has vanished. “So, am I a liar?”

“How so?” I whisper back.

“The girlfriend announcement. You didn't seem upset by that.”

I tip my head up when Billy's voice slices the space between us. “Just kiss her, man!” Billy looks around the table. “What's he waiting for?”

Beth pats Billy's hand, as if to calm him.

Josh grins, dimples sinking deeper into his cheek. He bends toward me and I can feel his warm breath on my face. “Don't want to disappoint them. Or you either.” He kisses me then and the crowd disappears.

More crowing and laughter erupts from our table.

“Hate to interrupt you young folks, but I think the missus and I are seated here.” Burton towers above us, with his pink-covered wife, Glory, jiggling beside him.

Reese's face alights. “Sit on down, Granddad. We've been waiting for you both.”

“Well, my goodness, look at this lively table we get to join!” Glory's perfume infiltrates the group. She takes her seat and glances around the table, her smile deepening the lines that crisscross her face. “You all look lovely,” she says, stopping on Carolyn, “but I don't think we've met.”

All eyes turn to Carolyn, who's become a blushing machine. Joey pipes up. “Glory, I'd like you to meet my date, CeCe.”

“CeCe! Oh, my, what a delightful name! Is that short for something?”

CeCe nods, while Joey tells her, “Carolyn. Her real name is Carolyn.”

A befuddled look overtakes Glory. Her lips pooch and a distinct divot appears on her forehead. “I've heard that name somewhere before. Let me think. Gah. I'm an old woman, but I'll think of it.”

Billy holds up the wine bottle, a question in his eyes. Burton offers his empty goblet. “By all means. And Glory here'll have a pink lemonade when I can flag down one of those waiters in penguin suits.”

A trio of musicians begin to play songs that although probably famous, I cannot identify. They stir the magical mood under the big tent, though, and now that all the introductions are out of the way and dinner is about to be served, I feel myself relax.

Maybe a bit too soon, because Josh's hand tenses in mine and I look up. He's staring across the room to an open bar where his father's tall frame rises from the hovering pack. I place my hand on Josh's back and push aside the rush it gives me. “Is everything all right?”

He nods, but doesn't turn to me. Nothing in his face confirms that all is well.

The rest of the table stays buried in conversation. “Josh.” I whisper his name close to his ear, once again ignoring the wave of desire that unfurls. “I'm concerned. Let me help.”

Josh swivels toward me, his eyes sad and soulful. “I wish you could.” He closes those eyes of his and breathes in deeply. “My father's . . . got problems.”

I pick out Pete from the group and watch him for a few seconds. He's laughing and carrying on and shoulder slapping as if he's never heard something so hysterical in his life. My mind moves fast. We're face-to-face, Josh and I, our conversation as private as it can be in a room full of people. Suddenly I think I understand. “Does your father . . . is he an alcoholic?”

One look into Josh's grim face and I receive my answer.

ELIZA'S FATHER WAS AN alcoholic too. Only he never laughed as much as Pete does. He was angry and bitter and perpetually out of a job. Which goes a long way toward explaining just why Eliza had become so self-sufficientânot to mention a teetotaler.
And perhaps a tad more of a manipulator than I'd like to admit.

Glory, who sits just on the other side of Josh's now-empty seat, slathers a slice of bread from the table basket. “Where's he going?”

“Just had something to tell his father. He'll be right back.”

She bites into the soft bread, closes her eyes and squeals in culinary delight. “Mmm-mmâoh!” Glory's eyes pop open.

“You okay there, Glory?” I ask.

She turns to Carolyn who slowly chews a hunk of bread while listening to an intense debate between Billy and Joey over which team's the best: Dodgers or Giants. “I just remembered why your name was so familiar!”

All conversations around the table stop. Glory swipes a look at me, a magenta-colored fingernail taking aim in my direction. “It was CeCe! CeCe was the woman that had a thing for your father!”

WHILE IT MAY BE customary, and a high form of politeness, to invite other ladies to join you for a trip to the restroom, protocol had sunk to the bottom of my to-do list. I had to get away. From the first time we met, I knew that Glory didn't have a mean bone in her chubby body. But I'm beginning to wonder if she's missing something upstairs.

I wash my hands for the second time, even though I've done nothing to sully them in the first place. The running water distracts me from the inner tidal wave building within my heart.
You're going to learn some things that neither I nor your father had the courage to tell you . . .

My mother's words burn. Other women in their taffeta and chiffon and strappy shoes roam in and out, and I wonder just how long I can hide in here.

“There you are!” Norma wanders in, chattering. She stops. “You look like you just bit into a slice of bad meat.”

I almost laugh but halt myself, knowing the sound would come out as I feel: sharp and bitter.

“Did you and Josh have an argument?”

I hang my head and shake it back and forth. “Glory's sitting at our table.”

“Oh . . . oh!” Norma sighs. “And she has more to add about your parents' problems?”

“The same stuff, really. She suddenly remembered that my father's . . .” I swallow. “The other woman's name was CeCe. There's a woman at our table named Carolyn and . . . oh no.” I tip my chin up and stare at the ceiling. “I think I'm going to be sick.”

Norma places a motherly hand on the back of my shoulder. “I've got Pepto-Bismol in my car. Shall I send Mikey for it?”

I shake my head vigorously. “Glory remembered the name CeCe after talking with a woman at our table named Carolyn. All we've ever known about my cousin Camille's mother is that her name was Caroline.” The comparison careens through my mind and lands with a heavy throb. “Is it possible that my father had an affair with Camille's mother?”

The bathroom door flies open and two young girls hustle in. “Mom's going to kill me! Shirley Temple juice all over me!”

The older girl rips five paper towels from the roll, sops them with cold water and begins to scrub. “You have to be more careful!”

“I was, but that stupid Collin bumped into me really hard.” She begins to cry.

Her sister keeps wiping and sighing. She stops. “It's okay. It'll wash. Please stop crying.”

BOOK: Sweet Waters

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