The Knight Of The Rose (49 page)

course, wanted red roses. Mike intervened in the end and told her it was my choice. She meant well,

and red would’ve been great, but she can never understand what the red rose once meant to me: how

it represented the part of me that would always belong to David.

That was a different time; I wish it were a different life.

I took a wispy breath and fel t my heart fl utter as I pu shed his face away from my mind. I

can’t have any thoughts of him today, or I’ll fall to pieces.

There is, and never was a David Knight. He died in nineteen-thirteen when his uncle bit him

and turned him into a vampire: he never loved me, never promised me eternity—never existed.

I am moving on, as he did, and leaving all hope of love and destiny to the children who read

fairy-tales.

They say that spring represents new beginnings—the end of the dar kness, the cloaking of

faux pas, the chance to wake up and start all over again. David will never be far from my thoughts,

but I will live for the rest of my life without him in my embrace.

I looked at myself in the mirror again, at the bride, the woman that now stood before me:

this is moving on.

“Ara? Are you okay?” Emily smiled at me from the doorway.

“Emily—you look beautiful,” I all but squealed and hugged her as she walked over to me.

She held me tight . Then, standing her at arms-len gth, I smiled, admiring her dress. “Yellow is

definitely your colour.”

“Well, thank you for choosing such a tast eful bridesmaid dress.” She smiled, r unning her

fingers over the chiffon.

“I’m glad we went for the shorter dress—it’s says spring to me.” I tapped my chin with my

finger.

“It doesn’t feel like spring. It’s so cold today.” She smiled and tilted her head to one side,

pausing there for a second. “Is it David? Is that what you were thinking about just now?”

A rush of hot blood shot through my stomach; I clutched my silver locket.

On my own, with the f our walls of my room surrounding me—closing me in—convincing

myself that life was that path I’d chosen was easy. But in the presence of those who prove li fe is

still real and still hurts, believing I no longer belonged to him made me want to fold over and cry.

The truth is that, though my heart belongs to Mike, for all my life, a part of me will forever

hold onto David; I will forever believe I still belong to him, no matter how often I stare into a mirror

and tell myself otherwis e. “You know me too well.” I sighed and for ced myself to release the

pendant. “I’m gonna miss you, Emily.”

“Don’t cry,” she said, hugging me again, “you’ll make your mascara run again.” We laughed

and both stood back, wiping our cheeks. “Don’t worry. I’ll come see you real soon. You’ll see. And

as for David? Well, I know you love him. You probably always will, and I know it’s been hard, but

he’s gone, Ara. I haven’t seen him—just like I never saw Jason again.” She shook her head, smiling

sympathetically. “They’re not coming back.”

I nodded, pushing an internal shudder down from the mention of my attacker . The memory

of that night had been locked d eep in my su bconscious, and the key thrown away, but whenever I

heard the name
Jason
—even if it wasn’t in re ference to him—I trembled. My fingers found the

locket again and held it tight.

“It was supposed to be him, though, right?” She smiled, nodding toward my locket. “He was

the one you were going to marry.”

“Yeah. I mean, I wanted it to be. But not anym ore. I am happy, and I do love Mike—he’s

good for me. He’s right for me. I just miss Davi d, and—” I f aced the mirror again, dropping the

chain from my fingers and letting it fall, cool against my skin. “I just wish I’d been given the chance

to say goodbye.”

“I wish it had been different, too,” Emily said. “Then you wouldn’t be leaving me tonight.”

Her hands rested on the tops of my arms and she loo ked at me carefully thr ough the ref lection.

“You look so beautiful, Ara. I’ve never seen a more beautiful bride.”

“Oh!” We both looked up to t he whimpering gasp as Vicki walked in and burst into tears—

again: “My beautiful Ara-Rose. I can’t believe you’re getting married,” she trilled in a high-pitched

wail. Vicki hugged me, being careful of my cas cading curls. “It feels like we only got you a few

weeks ago, and now look at you—al l grown up an d leaving us.” She wi ped away her tears. “Oh.

Look at me, I’ve gone and smudged my makeup again.”

Emily and I exchanged a humoured smile as Vicki headed into my wardrobe—toward the

bathroom. The wardrobe was empty now. The rows and rows of clothes that Vi cki bought for me,

the yellow dress, my box of pictures and everything else that had made this room my own was on its

way home now. On a freight plane back to Perth, which, after tonight, when I officially became

Mrs. Michael Christopher White, I would be too—except…not on a freight plane.

Emily let out a soft breath, half smiling. “Come on. It’s nearly time. Let’s put this veil on.” I

lifted the blanket-heavy skirt and sat down on the stool near the mi rror. It felt good to sit. I’d been

standing for too long. “No looking until I get this in, okay?” Emily warned.

“Em—my back’s to the mirror, how can I see, anyway?”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll find a way, if you want to.”

“You know me too well.” I giggled. “So—where’s Alana?”

“She’s finishing her hair. And still trying to practice walking in those heels.” Emily laughed.

“I hope she doesn’t trip over.”

“No one will notice,” she muttere d with a few bobby-pins betwee n her lips, “they won’t be

able to see past you.”

With the veil in my hair, Emily took a step back and adoration flooded her eyes like a little

girl getting her fist kitten.

“Does it look nice?” I asked, touching my fingertips to the meshy fabric.

“Oh, my God!” Alana squealed as she walked in.

“Don’t cry,” Emily warned. “I’m not re-doing your makeup.”

“I’m not. I’m not. Oh, Ar a,” Alana said, wavi ng her hands near her moistening eyes.

“You’re so pretty.”

“Thanks. You look lovely, too.”

“I know.” She curtsied. “Ryan said his heart stopped beating when he saw me.”

“Aw.” Emily and I sighed. He’s so sweet.

“Now—” Alana touched my veil. “You have something old?”

“And something new.” I nodded down at my dress.

“Okay, here’s something borrowed.” Emily clasped her silver bracelet over my wrist—over

the scar David left.

“Well, that just leaves someth ing blue.” I sear ched the room, half expecting to see the

bookshelf behind my bedroom door where I used to keep a bluebird pin my mother gave me when I

was little.

“Um, Ara?” Vicki stood nervously behind Emily. “I—I have something blue.”

When Em stepped aside, Vicki reached across the pale beam of s unlight and placed

something cold and kind of heavy in my hand—cupping hers there for a second. “My mother gave

this to me on my wedding day—when I married your father.”

I hesitated to look down at it, keeping my gaze on her teary eyes for longer than needed. But

when I finally unfolded my fingers, I gasped, seeing the blue perfection there. “Vicki! This is

beautiful.”

“It’s a brooch,” she said, turning the delicate glass blossom in my open palm.

“But—” I stole my gaze away from it to look at her , “this should be passed down to Sam,

shouldn’t it?”

Vicki shook her head and closed my fingers around the flower. “It‘s been passed down in

my family from daughter to daughter: it belongs to you now.”

“Vicki, I—how can I ever thank you for all you’ve done for me?” I jumped off the stool and

hugged her tight, gripping the sapphire blossom in my hand. “You’re my best friend.”

“And you’re the daughter I always wanted.” She smiled and bit her quivering lips together.

“Now, enough cliché fussing. Where shall we pin this?”

We placed the brooch, after much deliberation, to the largest cherry blossom on the bodice:

right where the skirt met my hips, and as everyone stepped back to take a look at me, I drew a deep

breath and squared my shoulders: “So, that’s everything?”

The chatter of four girls suddenly burst into the roar of twenty screaming fans at a boy-band

concert. I calmed myself to a pictur e of composure while they gathered their bouquets, then hurried

into the corridor.

“You coming, Ara?” Alana turned back to look at me.

“Um, yeah.” A sigh forced my shoulders to relax. “I’ll just be a sec.”

She smiled knowingly, then walked away.

The silence seemed to be filled with all the thoughts I’d been afraid of, all the truths I

couldn’t own today. So, before it could destroy resolution, I wandered out quickly, looking back for

only a moment before shutting the door on the warm yellow light of the past.

When Dad closed his door at the end of the hall too, I waited, smiling with anticipation, for

him to turn around. “Dad?”

His face moved from the thoughts of the day ahead to a round-mout hed, wide-eyed smile.

“Oh, honey,” he said, raising my hand above my head to spin me around. “Look at you.”

“It’s not too overdone, do you think?” I looked down at the marshmallow skirt.

“No, you look perfect.” He kissed my cheek. “You’re so grown up, so before your time.” He

stopped then with a sli ght sigh. “I’m proud of you, Ara-Rose—and your mother—” Dad touched

my inherited veil, “I know she’d be proud of you too.”

I nodded, looking down at Dad’s hands holding mine.

“You know you’re supposed to take your engagement ring off when you get married. It goes

on over your wedding ring after the ceremony.”

“Really? Well, here, hold on to it for me.”

Dad placed my ruby ring i n his t op pocket w ith a litt le pat. “Are you ready?” he asked

softly.

Ready?
I wasn’t sure if that was the right word. I inhaled a deep, shaky- yet-excited breath

and let it out in a gust. “No! Wait. I forgot my bouquet.” I spun on my heel, hitched my dress up at

the front, and felt it swish around the tops of my feet as I bolted back to my room.

The warmth of my yellow walls greeted me with the sun’s smile as I burst through the door

and grabbed the lone bouquet sitting on the hall table.

Lucky I remembered this—coming back up the stairs in this dress would’ve been difficult.

But, as I turned to walk away, a wave of nostalgia hit me. I took two slow steps back t o

where my bed used to be, and let my arms fall to my sides.

It’s so empty in here now.

The crystals that used to cast rainbows from the sun were all gone, so too were the photos on

the walls, and the innocence of childhood. They were all just a me mory now, and it felt strange to

be saying goodbye to a place that’d been such a big part of my life, for such a short time.

Despite the pain I suffered here, what I’m leaving behind today are mostly fond memories.

Then, as I turned to walk away again, a splash of a forbidden colour caught my eye—resting

in the hinge of the old mirror.

One single red rose.

Breathless, bonded to the spot, I could no longer feel my arms or l ips—my thumping heart

was all that existed.

No one would have put that there. I was ver y clear. There were to be
no
red roses around

today. I walked over and plucked the rose from the mi rror, dropping it as soon as my fi ngers

touched the thornless stem.

“David?”

A breathless moment passed and only the stammering of my wanting heart echoed back.

Please be here. Please.

The red rose sat by my feet. I stared at it for a moment. One red rose. The single element of

colour inside a completel y white bouquet; the scarlet representation of my love for David—of the

part of me that will always be his. I left it out. I wanted to move on—to forget about him. But we

both know I was fooling myself to think I could ever move on. I can’t move on from something like

this. And he won’t let me.

No. I shook my head and took a step away from the rose. I will not let his memory reside

here, in this life, with me. The past is his dwelling now—long forgotten and hidden in a dark corner

of my heart—like a favourite old book at the back of a shelf.

The reflection of the br ide holding a colourless bouquet was one of picturesque beauty, but

not what I saw in my dream, in what seemed a lifetime ago. This was a different image.

I was no longer the empty shell of a gir l I used to be. I had moved on wit hout David,
away

from David, and slowly, I was growing out of the mask I used to hide behind. Happines s was

becoming a real par t of my li fe, and it was because of Mike that I could finally be just a gir l.
Just

Ara. Leaving the rose on the floor where it fell, I smiled. Mike is all I need now. I loved David

with all of my heart once, and when Mike came back into my life, my heart simply grew bigger.

With one hand, I unclasped the silver chain that David returned to me. “I wi ll always be

yours, David,” I said into the mirror, “—and you will always have a special place in my heart, but—

” I placed the locket on the fl oor over the r ose and stood back. “But this i s me saying goodbye.

Saying…this is the way things
should
be. Don’t let your life be about me, now. It’s time to move on

and let things fall where they may.” My heart and my voice steadied with the last of my goodbye. “I

love you, David Knight. I’ll love you for forever—but it just has to be forever apart.”