The Wedding (53 page)

She had been dreading it for weeks, and had nightmares about it all night. This had nothing to do with Jeff, or the wedding. It had to do with her, and her life, and her memories, and freedom, and she knew it. She had been waiting twenty-five years for this moment.

What she hated most about what was happening these days was that she seemed to be losing Jeff in the midst of all the preparations. Everything was about hats and shoes and veils and videos and photographs and wedding cakes and bridesmaids. It had nothing to do with him and what had brought them together in the first place. It was almost as though they had to get through it now, like a maze, in order to find each other again, and she could hardly wait to see him.

She had left the house that morning before he got up, and called him after he'd left for God knows where he had his own arrangements to make for the ushers. They'd wanted to have lunch, but never hooked up, and now she had to meet with her father, Charles Stanton.

The rehearsal would be late that afternoon, and she'd see Jeff then, and then they would lose each other again at the rehearsal dinner. And that night she was staying at her parents', just for tradition's sake, so she wouldn't see him before the wedding, and she no longer had her own house to go to. But she was looking forward to staying with them, and maybe chatting with Sam until late at night, if she came to visit from the cottage.

But in the meantime, Allegra had work to do. She had to see her father. She had talked about it with Sam, and about how reluctant she was to go down the aisle with him, and Simon had scolded her. You make it sound like a kidnapping.

In his case, it is, Allegra had said, and all she could think of as she went to the hotel was that she had to tell him he was a guest at the wedding, and not her father. The part of the father will be played tonight by Simon Steinberg, not Charles Stanton. She was still thinking of it as she walked into the lobby, and walked right into him, and didn't know it.

She excused herself and went to the desk, and then when she got there, she turned and looked. He looked familiar, but so much older. He was watching her too, and he walked over slowly.

Allegra? he asked cautiously, and she nodded, holding her breath. It was him. Her father.

Hi, she said, bereft of words, as he suggested they go to the bar, but when they sat down, he ordered a Coca-Cola, and she was glad to see it. At least he wasn't drinking. Those were her worst memories of him, when he was drunk and had beaten her mother.

They chatted about nonentities for a while, California, Boston, her work, the weather. He didn't ask about Blaire, and Allegra sensed that he probably still had a lot of animosity against her. He had never forgiven her for leaving. She told him that Jeff was from New York, and that two of his grandfathers had been physicians.

How did he escape? Charles Stanton said, trying to warm up to her, and not finding it easy. There was a wall between them. And she was surprised by how old and frail he looked. Her mother said he would be seventy-five; she had never realized that he was that much older than her mother.

He's a writer, Allegra said about Jeff, and told him about both books, and his movie. He's very talented, she explained, but she couldn't concentrate on what she was saying. All she really wanted to know was why he had hated her so much, why he had never seen her, never called her, never loved her. She wanted to ask him what had happened when her brother died, but just sitting there with him like that, she couldn't. All her anger just sat in a little pool, like oil, with nowhere to go unless someone lit a match and let it burst into flame. But at last he did it. He asked about her mother, and his tone of voice said it all as Allegra bristled.

Why do you sound that way when you ask about her? Allegra asked, suddenly astonished by her own question. It had come out of some dark recess of her heart, with no warning whatsoever.

What do you mean? He looked uncomfortable, and sipped his Coca-Cola. He was the master of passive aggression. I have no animosity toward your mother. He lied, and his eyes said so. He hated her even more than he had hated Allegra. In Allegra's case he just seemed not to care. In Blaire's, he had old scores to settle.

Yes, you do have animosity toward Mom. Allegra stared him down. But that's understandable, she left you.

What do you know of all that? he said, sounding irritated and cranky. That was a long time ago. You were a child then.

I still remember it. ' I still remember the fights ' the screaming ' the things you both said' .

How could you? He looked down into his drink, remembering it as well. You were barely more than a baby.

I was five years old, six when we left. It was awful. He nodded, unable to deny it, afraid she did remember the times he had hit Blaire, and all the rest. He knew himself that he'd been crazy then. And then Allegra decided to brave the deepest waters. She knew it was the only way to reach the opposite shore again, and this time she knew she had to. She might never see him again. It might be her only chance to free herself, and him. The worst part, she said, was when Paddy died. But as she said it, he winced, as though she had hit him.

There was no help for that, he said brusquely. He had a form of leukemia that could not be cured, by anyone. Not in those days. Perhaps not even now, he said sadly.

I believe you, she said softly, and she did. Her mother had told her that years later. But she also knew that her father thought he should have saved him, and had never forgiven himself for failing. It was why he drank, and why he lost them. But I do remember him ' he was always so sweet to me' . In some ways, he was like Jeff. He was so gentle, and giving, and took such good care of her. I loved him so much.

Her father closed his eyes and looked away from her. There's no point talking about that now. As he said it, she remembered that he had no other children, and for just an instant, she felt sorry for him. He was tired and alone, and sick probably, and he had nothing. She had Jeff and her parents, Sam, and Scott, and even Jimmy and Matthew. All Charles Stanton had were regrets, and ghosts, one child he had loved and lost, and another he had abandoned.

Why didn't you ever want to see me? she said quietly. After that, I mean? Why didn't you ever call, or answer my letters?

I was very angry at your mother, he said, unhappy to be asked about it so many years later. But it was not an explanation that satisfied Allegra.

You were my father. She had deserted me, and so had you, as far as I was concerned, and hanging on to you was just too painful. I knew I'd never win you back, either of you. It was simpler to just let go and forget you. Was that what he had done then? He had forced her from his head, refused her? Buried her like Paddy? Cut her off? Severed the tie that bound them?

But why? Allegra pressed him. Why didn't you answer my letters, or at least talk to me? And when I did talk to you, you were so angry, and so mean. She came right out and said it, but she had to.

He said something very strange then. I didn't want you in my life, Allegra. I didn't want you to love me. Perhaps that sounds strange to you. But I loved you very much, both of you, and when I lost you, I gave up. It was like losing Patrick all over again. I knew I couldn't fight the distance, or your new life here. Within a year after you left, you had a stepfather, three years later, a new brother, and I knew there would be more after that. She had a new life, so did you. It would have been cruel to try to hold on to you, for both of us. It was kinder to you to simply let go, to let the tides sweep you away to your new life. This way, you had nothing to look back at. You had no past, only a future.

But I took it all with me, she said sadly. I took you and Paddy everywhere. I never understood why you stopped loving me, she said with tears in her eyes. I needed to know why. I always thought you hated me, she said, looking deep into his eyes, needing affirmation.

I never hated you, he said, smiling sadly, and he barely dared to touch her fingers. But I had nothing to give you then. I was broken. I hated your mother for a while, but even that dissipated after a time. I had my own demons to live with. And then he sighed and looked at her. I tried an experimental treatment on your brother, Allegra. He would have died anyway, but I was sure that it would help him. It didn't in fact, I always feared it had shortened his life, perhaps not by much, but by something. Your mother always said that I killed him. He looked beaten again as he said it.

She didn't say that to me when we talked about it. She never has.

Perhaps she's forgiven me, he said sadly.

She did that a long time ago, Allegra said quietly. There were no easy answers. There was no way of truly understanding what had made him let go of her, but at least she knew now that it had been his own demons, his own guilt, his own terrors, his own inadequacies that had convinced him it was the right decision. He simply had nothing to give her. It was what Dr. Green had always told her, and she had never believed, but at least now she had heard him say it.

I loved you very much, he said quietly. They were the words she had waited most of her lifetime to hear. I suppose I didn't know how then. I still love you, that's why I came out here. I'm beginning to understand that time is a luxury, and sometimes it's better to spend it. Sometimes I think of the things I would say to you, of the times I should have called you, like on your birthday. I always remember it, yours and Paddy's, and hers ' but I've never called you. I thought about it for a long time when you wrote to me. I wasn't going to answer you. And then I realized I didn't want to miss your wedding. There were tears in his eyes when he said it. This was important to him, even more than he could tell Allegra.

Thank you, she said, as tears slid down her cheeks. She was thanking him for his words, his honesty, her freedom. I'm glad you came, she said, kissing his hand, and he smiled at her, not daring to respond more than he already had. As before, he was bound by his own limitations, as we all are.

I'm glad I came too, he said softly, still shaken by their conversation.

They had another Coca-Cola then, and talked about the wedding for a while, and she said nothing to him about who would walk her down the aisle. She was thinking of having Delilah tell him. But she was so relieved about the things he had said, that he had cared, and thought about her, and had even remembered her birthdays. It was unimportant in a way, he still hadn't called her in the end, yet to Allegra, it made a tremendous difference.

When she stood up, she offered to drive him to the rehearsal. They were holding it in the same place as the rehearsal dinner itself, which was easier than going all the way back to Bel Air to the Steinbergs' garden, especially while the gardeners were still frantically working. The wedding was at five o'clock the next day. They had exactly twenty-three hours left in which to do it.

On the drive over, he astounded her, by admitting that he was nervous about seeing Blaire. It seemed so strange to her. Her mother had been married to Simon for twenty-three years; this man had no part in her life at all. Except he did. Historically. They had been married for eleven years, and she had borne him two children. It was hard to imagine it, he looked so gray and tired and old. He was so restrained and reserved and conservative. So unlike the beautiful, expansive, youthful, lively woman she knew as her mother. She seemed in no way related to Charles Stanton. And in fact, now, she wasn't.

They arrived at the Bistro promptly at six o'clock, and the rest of the wedding party was starting to arrive. The minister and Delilah were conferring in a corner, while waitresses served champagne, and at exactly seven o'clock, Delilah brought everyone to order. Allegra's whole family was there, her bridesmaids, her friends, the minister, and both her fathers. Jeff's mother was standing next to him, in a severe black dress with her hair pulled back, and she looked terribly serious, but Allegra thought she actually looked pretty, all things considered.

Alan was telling Simon all about the film in Switzerland, while Carmen chatted with Sam about the baby. For once, Sam had left Matthew at home with a baby-sitter. She had nursed him right before she left, and she had told Jimmy she didn't want to stay too long, it was the first time she had ever left the baby. But it felt great to be out again, and Jimmy had been admiring his wife's luxurious figure.

They were a handsome group, and the tabloids would have been well satisfied with the names that were represented, as the minister explained exactly what the drill would be the next day, who would go where, who would do what first, and Charles Stanton looked confused about what his role was, and Simon saw it. He drew him quietly aside, introduced himself, and shook his hand, and told him he had an unusual suggestion. Allegra had heard the beginning of it, but then they moved away from her, and she couldn't hear what they were discussing.

It was all very exciting suddenly. It was happening. All the pieces of the puzzle fit. It was coming together. Her oldest friends were there, and her family. And her father had even admitted to her that he loved her. He had been confused and frail and misguided in what he'd done to her, but she had not been abandoned through any fault of her own, or perhaps even of his. She had always known that, and been told by experts, but at last she had been able to hear it from her father.

She had introduced him to a few of her friends as they came in, and if one narrowed one's eyes very carefully, one could see a small resemblance, but it was Blaire she really looked like, and Simon that she loved as a father. But this man was still part of her, of her history, her ancestry, her past, and her future. He simply was, just as she was a part of Matthew.