Wedding Survivor (43 page)

IN a village of no more than one hundred souls deep in the jungle of the Amazonian basin, Eli traded soap, a package of cheese, and an L.A. Lakers T-shirt for an insect net and paper and pencil. That night, after he and Cooper had settled their Japanese wards (who had been quite titillated by the sight of two very large caiman lizards on the edge of the village), Eli made his way to a thatched roof hut made of walking palms where he and Cooper would sleep.

It was the first real bed he'd seen in two weeks, and it was a hammock.

Eli didn't care; he climbed into the hammock, exhausted from the energy required to float the Amazon with fifteen men who did not speak the slightest bit of English, or, it seemed, possess even the most basic of outdoor skills. His days had been filled with hiking and herding and floating, and this village was the first opportunity they'd had to really rest. They'd be here twenty-four hours to rest up before hiking deeper into the rain forest.

With a candle on the wall providing the only light—the village did not enjoy the wonders of modem electricity—and two parakeets hopping around below him, Eli picked up the paper and the pencil and wrote:

August 12 Dear Marnie

He stopped, squinting at the words. Too formal, wasn't it?

August 12 Dear Marnie,

Hey Coppertop, how are you? I am in the middle of the rain forest in Brazil.

@

He paused again, tapped the pencil against the paper and sighed. He was not exactly the corresponding type. He could count on one hand the letters he'd written in his life—they'd all been when he was six, written to his mom when he was away at camp for the first time. Now that he was an adult, he had no idea how to go about it.

What he wanted to say was that he missed her, and he'd been doing a lot of thinking, and he was thinking that he really was… in love with her.

I miss you. I can't think of anything but you. We float down the Amazon and all around us are jaguars and pink dolphins and macaws and anacondas, but all I see is you and your smile and those long goddam legs. I wish you were here, I wish I could hold you. I wish I weren't so damn tongue-tied and could say out loud that I think I love you, too.

Ah hell, he sounded like a kid with his first crush, all sappy and pathetic.

It had been three weeks since he'd left her standing in that tent in Colorado. She'd probably gone on to her next gig by now and after the way he'd left her, she'd probably gone on with her life. Who could blame her? He was a putz, a big fucking chicken, quack quack, and he suddenly felt like an even bigger fool. What did he think, some love letter written in a village with no post would fix things?

He folded the paper, stuffed it into his all-terrain pants, the pencil, too, and put his arm behind his head for a pillow:

He needed to sleep.

IN her new tiny little apartment in Van Nuys, Marnie spread her portfolio on the little kitchen table to show to Miss Emily Buckholtz, the bride with a shoestring budget and a need to be married in three weeks' time. It wasn't exactly the wedding Marnie had hoped for, but it was work.

"
Ooh
," Emily said, her little green eyes going round. "Is that who I think it is?"

"Yes," Marnie said with a smile. "That is Olivia Dag-wood and Vincent Vittorio. But you know these Hollywood stars—they called off the whole thing at the last minute." Too bad, too, because it really would have been a spectacular wedding, if Marnie did say so herself.

"Look, here's her gown," she said, turning the page, and tried to block the image of it dangling from a tree.

"Ohmigod, I would
kill
for a gown like that!"

"I don't think a Xioong original fits within our budget," Marnie said with a laugh.

Emily Buckholtz looked up, her eyes wide as saucers. "How much did it cost?"

Marnie leaned forward and whispered in return, "
Twenty thousand
." Emily gasped. Marnie nodded. "I know a place where you can get one off the rack that looks almost exactly like it for a very reasonable price."

"Really?" Emily asked, looking hopeful.

"Really. Betty's Bridal Discount. We can go later and check them out if you'd like."

"Oh, I'd
love
to."

Marnie smiled and turned the page to show her the linens they would have used when the phone rang. "Why don't you look through here a minute," she suggested and picked up her phone. "Hello?"

"Hi, honey!" Mom trilled on the other line.

"Mom, I'm in the middle of a meeting. Can I call you back?"

"I finally found a reason for you to come home to visit, Marnie," Mom said, ignoring her.

"Okay, but can it wait?"

"Sure! A letter came for you from that outfit you were working for, Thrillmakers."

Marnie's heart dipped, and she unconsciously gripped the phone a little tighter. "Thrillseekers. A letter, you say?" she asked weakly.

"Uh-huh," Mom said in a singsong way. "A
letter
. Addressed to Miss Marnie Banks."

A letter, a letter
… was it from him? Could it possibly be from him? "Okay, okay," Marnie said, glancing over her shoulder at Emily. "Just leave it on the bar. I'll stop by later to pick it up."

"Great! I'm making my famous soy enchiladas for supper. We'll expect you. Toodleloo!" she said, and clicked off before Marnie could decline the invitation to supper.

'This table is gorgeous," Emily said when Marnie returned.

Marnie glanced at the picture she had taken of a mocked-up table to show Olivia what they would do for the reception. "Yeah," she said wistfully, taking a seat. "That would have been fun." She proceeded to tell Emily about the Baccarat bowls with floating stars and the white roses that would have been strung and hung from the tent ceiling to give an illusion of stars, and what Emily might do at a fraction of the cost… but as she talked, she could see only Eli, could think of only Eli.

She'd thought about him constantly since he'd left. For the first couple of weeks, she'd thought each day would be the day she'd hear from him. And when each day passed without a word, Marnie became the master of rationalization and gave him every excuse. He was in the Amazon, for Pete's sake. It wasn't as if he could pick up a cell phone or drop her a line!

But in the back of her mind, a tiny voice would argue, couldn't he, really? Didn't they have mail in Brazil? Phones? Was she to believe that those poor people lived without the basic means of communication with the world? No, no, of course they had mail, and now that he had been gone for five weeks, she had finally come to the conclusion that she'd been dumped. Again.

Or had she? Maybe, just maybe, he really couldn't get hold of her. He'd told her to have faith. Maybe, hopefully, please, a letter from him had arrived. And maybe Emily Buckholtz would quit talking about the sort of wedding she'd always wanted so Marnie could go find out.

The next hour seemed interminable to her, but she smiled and nodded and managed to talk through plans with Emily. They settled on the smallest of packages—a quickie wedding without a lot of trimming and very little fanfare. Great for Emily, but a far cry from the gala wedding Marnie had hoped to pick up.

When at last Emily left, Marnie stood at her window and watched Emily putter out of the parking lot in a Geo Metro, then grabbed up her purse and keys and rushed out of her apartment, headed for Hancock Park and her mom's house.

She reached her childhood home in record time, but groaned when she pulled into the drive. The book club was meeting—she could see them all in the big picture window. That was the one thing she really didn't need today. She grabbed her purse, determined just to slip in, grab the letter, and slip out.

Mom, however, had other ideas. She was standing in the foyer waiting for Marnie when she quietly opened the door.

"Marnie!" she cried, and flung her arms around her, squeezing tightly for a moment, but then suddenly rearing back and frowning. "You're losing weight I knew that would happen!" she exclaimed. "You're not eating, are you?"

"Mom, I'm eating. I'm not losing weight, I weigh exactly the same as I did when I lived here."

"Oh, really? And when was the last time you weighed?"

"I don't know," Marnie said as she tried to dislodge herself from her mom's grip.

"Carol? Is that our Marnie?" Mrs. Campbell's familiar voice rang out, followed by Mrs. Farrino's gin-soaked smoker's hack. "Bring her in here! We haven't seen her in ages!"

"Mom, no!" Marnie hissed, but Mom grabbed Marnie's hand and pulled her into the dining room, ignoring Marnie's attempts to tug her hand back.

"Hi, Marnie!" the ladies called out, and Mrs. Campbell waved.

"Hello, Mrs. Farrino. Mrs. Campbell. Mrs. Randolph. Mrs. Donaldson."

"So come in, come in!" Mrs. Campbell said, patting an empty chair. "Come do a Jell-O shot with us."

"A
Jell-0
shot?" Marnie echoed in disbelief, and looked at her mother.

"Why not?" Mom asked with a shrug. "You think we're too old for Jell-O? Now come in, Marnie, and sit down. We've missed you around here," she said, pulling Marnie into a seat at the table. She sat beside her, very close, as if she expected Marnie to bolt. Which Marnie intended to do the first moment she could.

"How's that new apartment?" Mrs. Randolph asked.

"It's great. I really like it a lot," Marnie said. In truth, it was a dump, but was the only thing she could afford and still pay off her debt.

"Carol says it's not in a real good part of Van Nuys," Mrs. Campbell said, wincing sympathetically.

"Ah, well… I couldn't afford the good part."

"Forget that—what happened to the wedding of Vincent Vittorio and Olivia Dagwood?" Mrs. Farrino demanded. "I

thought there was going to be a big wedding somewhere but then I heard on
Access Hollywood
that they're just friends. Is that true, Marnie? They're just friends?"

Marnie had a sudden image of them all sitting around this table for weeks, speculating. "I have no idea, Mrs. Farrino," Marnie said. "I guess they're just friends."

"Horseshit," Mrs. Farrino said, and took another drag off her smoke. "Carol, pass me the Fritos, hon."

"Well, I guess they must be," Mom said as she passed the Fritos to Mrs. Farrino. "I saw in a magazine in the grocery store that Vincent is dating Olivia's assistant."

Marnie blinked. "
Lucy
?"

"Something lite that," Mom said. She picked up a little glass that looked like it was full of congealed cough syrup. "Jell-O shot?"

"No thanks," Marnie said. "So okay!" she added brightly, coming to her feet. "It's great to see you all again, but I really have to be—"

"Not so fast, Marnie!" Mrs. Farrino said, and clamped a hand down on her arm, the cigarette ash hovering precariously over her hand. "Sit, sit!"

Marnie sat.

"What I want to know is if you are still seeing that handsome man. You know, the Texas one?"

Yes, she knew, the Texas one. The lonesome cowboy who made love like a man who had been stranded on a mountaintop his whole life. The man who could make her melt inside with just a look. The man who might have, maybe, actually written her a letter, but unfortunately, she didn't know for sure because she couldn't get out of the freakin' dining room to check it out.