The Wedding (22 page)

At first, I didn’t think I’d heard him correctly, but his expression let me know I had. I recalled the melancholy I sometimes felt when staring at Allie’s paintings of the garden.

“Why?”

Noah squinted into the sun before sighing. “As much as she loved the garden, she said it was too painful to look at. Whenever she looked out the window, she’d start crying, and sometimes it seemed like she’d never stop.” It took a moment before I realized why.

“Because of John,” I said softly, referring to the child who’d died of meningitis when he was four. Jane, like Noah, seldom mentioned him.
 
“Losing him nearly killed her.” He paused. “Nearly killed me, too. He was such a sweet little boy—just at that age where he was beginning to discover the world, when everything’s new and exciting. As the baby, he used to try to keep up with the bigger kids. He was always chasing after them in the yard. And he was healthy, too. Never had so much as an ear infection or a serious cold before he got sick. That’s why it was such a shock. One week he was playing in the yard, and the next week, we were at his funeral. After that, Allie could barely eat or sleep, and when she wasn’t crying, she just sort of wandered around in a daze. I wasn’t sure she’d ever get over it. That’s when she told me to plow the garden under.”

He drifted off. I said nothing, knowing it wasn’t possible to fully imagine the pain of losing a child.

“Why didn’t you?” I asked after a while.

“I thought it was just her grief talking,” he said quietly, “and I wasn’t sure if she really wanted me to do it, or just said it because her pain was so awful that day. So I waited. I figured if she asked me a second time, I would do it.
 
Or I’d offer to remove just the outer heart, if she wanted to keep the rest of it. But in the end, she never did. And after that? Even though she used it in a lot of her paintings, she never felt the same way about it. When we lost John, it stopped being a happy thing for her. Even when Kate got married there, she had mixed feelings about it.”

“Do the kids know why there are five rings?”

“Maybe in the back of their minds they do, but they would have had to figure it out on their own. It wasn’t something Allie or I liked to talk about. After John died, it was easier to think about the garden as a single gift, rather than five. And so that’s what it became. And when the kids were older and finally got around to asking about it, Allie just told them that I’d planted it for her. So to them, it’s always been this romantic gesture.”

From the corner of my eye, I saw the swan appear and glide toward us. It was curious that it hadn’t appeared before now, and I wondered where it had been. I thought that Noah would toss a piece of bread immediately, but he didn’t.
 
Instead, he simply watched it paddle closer. When it was a few feet away, the swan seemed to hover briefly, but then, to my surprise, it approached the bank.
 
A moment later it waddled toward us, and Noah stretched out his hand. The swan leaned into his touch, and as Noah spoke quietly to it, I was suddenly struck by the thought that the swan had actually missed Noah, too.
 
Noah fed the swan, and afterward I watched in wonder as—just as he’d once confided—the swan settled down at his feet.

An hour later, the clouds began to roll in. Dense and full bellied, they portended the type of summer storm common in the South—intense rain for twenty minutes, then slowly clearing skies. The swan was back-paddling in the pond, and I was about to suggest that we go back inside when I heard Anna’s voice behind us.

“Hey, Grampa! Hey, Daddy!” she called out. “When you weren’t in the room, we thought we might find you out here.”

I turned to see a cheerful Anna approaching. Jane trailed wearily a few steps behind. Her smile seemed strained—this, I knew, was the one place she dreaded finding her father.

“Hey, sweetheart,” I said, rising. Anna hugged me fiercely, her arms tight around my back.

“How’d it go today?” I asked. “Did you find the dress?” When she released me, she couldn’t hide the excitement. “You’re going to love it,” she promised, squeezing my arms. “It’s perfect.” By then Jane had reached us, and letting go of Anna, I embraced Jane as if doing so had somehow become natural again. She felt soft and warm, a reassuring presence.

“C’mere,” Noah said to Anna. He patted the bench. “Tell me about what you’ve been doing to get yourself ready for the weekend.”

Anna sat down and reached for his hand. “It’s been fantastic,” she said. “I never imagined how much fun it would be. We must have gone into a dozen stores.
 
And you should see Leslie! We found a dress for her too that’s totally awesome.” Jane and I stood off to the side as Anna recounted the whirlwind activities of the past couple of days. As she told one story after another, she alternately bumped Noah playfully or squeezed his hand. Despite the sixty years between them, it was obvious how comfortable they were together. Though grandparents often have special relationships with their grandchildren, Noah and Anna were clearly friends, and I felt a surge of parental pride at the young woman Anna had become. I could tell by the softness in Jane’s expression that she was feeling exactly the same way, and though I hadn’t done such a thing in years, I slowly slipped my arm around her.

I suppose I wasn’t sure what to expect—for a second she seemed almost startled—but when she relaxed beneath my arm, there was an instant where all seemed right in the world. In the past, words had always failed me at moments like this. Perhaps I’d secretly feared that speaking my feelings aloud would somehow diminish them. Yet now I realized how wrong I’d been to withhold my thoughts, and bringing my lips to her ear, I whispered the words that I should never have kept inside:

“I love you, Jane, and I’m the luckiest man in the world to have you.” Though she didn’t say a word, the way she leaned further against me was all the response I needed.

The thunder began half an hour later, a deep echo that seemed to ripple across the sky. After walking Noah to his room, Jane and I left for home, parting ways with Anna in the parking lot.

Riding through downtown, I stared out the windshield at the sun cutting through thickening clouds, casting shadows and making the river shine like gold. Jane was surprisingly quiet, gazing out the window, and I found myself glancing at her from the corner of my eye. Her hair was tucked neatly behind her ear, and the pink blouse she wore made her skin glow like that of a young child. On her hand shone the ring she’d worn for almost thirty years, the diamond engagement ring coupled with the narrow gold band.

We entered our neighborhood; a moment later, we pulled into the drive and Jane roused herself with a weary smile.

“Sorry about being so quiet. I guess I’m sort of tired.”

“It’s okay. It’s been a big week.”

I brought her suitcase inside, watching as she dropped her purse on the table near the door.

“Would you like some wine?” I asked.

Jane yawned and shook her head. “No, not tonight. If I had a glass, I think I’d fall asleep. I’d love a glass of water, though.”

In the kitchen, I filled two glasses with ice and water from the refrigerator.
 
She took a long drink, then leaned against the counter and propped one leg against the cupboards behind her in her habitual pose.
 
“My feet are killing me. We barely stopped for a minute all day. Anna looked at a couple hundred dresses before she found the right one. And actually, Leslie was the one who pulled it off the rack. I think she was getting desperate by then—Anna’s got to be one of the most indecisive people I’ve ever met.” “What’s it like?”

“Oh, you should see her in it. It’s one of those mermaid-style dresses, and it really flatters her figure. It’s still got to be fitted, but Keith’s going to love it.”

“I’ll bet she looks beautiful.”

“She does.” By her dreamy expression, I knew she was seeing it again. “I’d show you, but Anna doesn’t want you to see it until the weekend. She wants it to be a surprise.” She paused. “So how did it go on your end? Did anyone show up at the house?”

“Everyone,” I said, filling her in on the details of the morning.
 
“Amazing,” she said, refilling her glass. “Considering it’s so last minute, I mean.”

From the kitchen, we could see the sliding glass windows that led to the deck.
 
The light outside had dimmed under the thickening clouds, and the first drops of rain began to hit the window, lightly at first. The river was gray and ominous; a moment later, there was a flash of light followed by the crackling of thunder, and the downpour began in earnest. Jane turned toward the windows as the storm unleashed its fury.

“Do you know if it’s going to rain on Saturday?” she asked. Her voice, I thought, was surprisingly calm; I expected her to be more anxious. I thought of her peacefulness in the car, and I realized she hadn’t said a word about Noah’s presence at the pond. Watching her, I had the strange sense that her mood had something to do with Anna.

“It’s not supposed to,” I said. “They’re forecasting clear skies. This is supposed to be the last of the showers passing through.” Silently we stared at the falling rain together. Aside from the gentle patter of water, all was quiet. There was a faraway look in Jane’s eyes, and the ghost of a smile played on her lips.

“It’s lovely, isn’t it?” she asked. “Watching the rain? We used to do that at my parents’ house, remember? When we’d sit on the porch?” “I remember.”

“It was nice, wasn’t it?”

“Very.”

“We haven’t done this in a long time.”

“No,” I said, “we haven’t.”

She seemed lost in thought, and I prayed that this newfound sense of calm wouldn’t give way to the familiar sadness I had come to dread. Yet her expression didn’t change, and after a long moment, she glanced at me.
 
“Something else happened today,” she said, looking down at her glass.

“Oh?”

Looking up again, she met my eyes. They seemed to be sparkling with unshed tears.

“I won’t be able to sit with you at the wedding.”

“You won’t?”

“I can’t,” she said. “I’ll be up front with Anna and Keith.”

“Why?”

Jane brought her hand to the glass. “Because Anna asked me to be her matron of honor.” Her voice cracked a little. “She said she was closer to me than to anyone, and that I’d done so much for her and the wedding. . . .” She blinked rapidly and gave a small sniff. “I know it’s silly, but I was just so surprised when she asked me that I barely knew what to say. The thought hadn’t even crossed my mind. She was so sweet when she asked, like it really meant something to her.”

She swiped at her tears, and I felt a tightness in my throat. Asking a father to be best man was fairly typical in the South, but it was rare for a mother to act as matron of honor.

“Oh, sweetheart,” I murmured. “That’s wonderful. I’m so happy for you.” Lightning was followed by thunder again, though they both barely registered, and we stood in the kitchen until long after the storm had passed, sharing our silent joy.

When the rain had stopped completely, Jane slid open the glass doors and skipped out onto the deck. Water still dripped from the gutters and the porch railings, while tendrils of steam rose from the deck.

As I followed her, I felt my back and arms aching from my earlier exertions. I rolled my shoulders in an attempt to loosen them up.
 
“Have you eaten?” Jane asked.

“Not yet. Do you want to head out and grab a bite?”

She shook her head. “Not really. I’m pretty worn out.”

“How about if we order in to celebrate? Something easy? Something . . . fun.”

“Like what?”

“How about a pizza?”

She put her hands on her hips. “We haven’t ordered a pizza since Leslie moved out.”

“I know. But it sounds good, doesn’t it?”

“It’s always good. It’s just that you always get indigestion afterward.”

“True,” I admitted. “But I’m willing to live dangerously tonight.” “Wouldn’t you rather I just throw something together? I’m sure we’ve got something in the freezer.”

“C’mon,” I said. “We haven’t split a pizza in years. Just the two of us, I mean.
 
We’ll kick back on the couch, eat straight from the box—you know? Just like we used to. It’ll be fun.”

She stared at me quizzically. “You want to do something . . . fun.”

It was more of a statement than a question.

“Yes,” I said.

“Do you want to order, or should I?” she finally asked.

“I’ll take care of it. What do you want on it?”

She thought for a moment. “How about the works?” she said.

“Why not?” I agreed.

The pizza arrived half an hour later. By then, Jane had changed into jeans and a dark T-shirt, and we ate the pizza like a couple of college students in a dorm room. Despite her earlier refusal of a glass of wine, we ended up sharing a cold beer from the fridge.

While we ate, Jane filled in more details about her day. The morning had been spent looking for dresses for Leslie and Jane, despite Jane’s protests that she could “just pick up something simple at Belk’s.” Anna had been adamant that Jane and Leslie each pick out something they loved—and could wear again.
 
“Leslie found the most elegant dress—knee-length, like a cocktail dress. It looked so good on Leslie that Anna insisted on trying it on just for kicks.” Jane sighed. “The girls have really turned into such beauties.”

“They got your genes,” I said seriously.

Jane only laughed and waved a hand at me, her mouth full of pizza.
 
As the evening wore on, the sky outside turned indigo blue and the moonlit clouds were edged with silver. When we finished, we sat unmoving, listening to the sound of wind chimes in the summer breeze. Jane leaned her head back on the couch, staring at me through half-closed eyes, her gaze oddly seductive.
 
“That was a good idea,” she said. “I was hungrier than I thought.”