With Beth’s absence the room became uncomfortably quiet, but I didn’t feel alone. I looked down to my stomach. Bean was invisible, nestled under the fabric of the dress I would wear to marry her father. I placed both of my hands above my bump, and smiled. Would Bean know he or she was a guest at our wedding? The thought of a tiny body inside of me with a fancy dress or tux on made me giggle.
“What’s funny?” Cynthia said as she entered the room. “Certainly not the sight of you. You’re a vision.” I smiled and stood so that she might get a better look. “I’ve arranged for a car. Well, not so much a car as a beat-up truck, but it will get us to the chapel.”
“I wondered how I would get there and keep my dress white.”
Cynthia frowned. “I didn’t say it wouldn’t be difficult. I’ve considered wrapping you in plastic. It will take all of us along with a concentrated effort, but it can be done.”
“Thank you,” I smiled. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
Again, a deluge of emotion caught Cynthia off-guard, and she furiously searched through her purse for a tissue. Before the first tear could pour over her lashes, she dabbed it away. “I’ve never,” she said, annoyed. “I hope this doesn’t continue throughout the day.”
I rested in the chair and Cynthia sat on the bed, seeming uncomfortable and out of place, yet she remained cordial and poised. She brought up appropriate subjects such as the weather, and stayed far away from anything that might induce another onslaught of tears. We shared a few polite laughs, and I silently prayed that Beth would return sooner rather than later.
“Ding dong!” Bex said, opening the door. “The truck is less than a mile away. You ready?”
“Something like that,” I sighed.
Beth popped in behind Bex. Her smile lit up the room. She was stunning in her French blue cocktail dress, and for the first time since I’d met her, she actually looked like the former beauty queen that she was. Her lips were stained a wine color, and her short auburn hair was wavy and soft instead of sticking out in every direction. “Oh, good!” Beth squealed as the engine grew louder upon the truck’s approach. “It’s like a Bronco! It has a back seat!”
“That’s nice,” I said, minding my mother’s expression as I gathered my skirt.
The trip from my chair to the door was uneventful, but the preparations for me to step outside into the murky jungle were firmly coordinated by my mother. Cynthia barked orders at Bex, Beth, and the driver. Bex lifted me and held me away from his body—at Cynthia’s request—to keep from wrinkling the dress further. Beth and Cynthia held any protruding pieces out and away as Bex made his way to the truck, and then help spread the fabric while he lowered me to the backseat. Cynthia’s tactic worked. I was seated atop a clean blanket, and my dress remained untouched by the jungle.
Bex led us to the chapel on a dirt bike, while Cynthia commandeered the passenger seat. Beth squeezed against the door to my right to give the dress plenty of room.
“You are all being a little ridiculous about this dress. Once I get out of the truck, the wrinkles will fall,” I said.
“It’s possible. What will you do if mud is splattered on it? Have you found a dry cleaner on the island?” Cynthia asked.
“Good point.”
Within half an hour, the truck was bouncing over familiar cobblestone streets. My heart pounded against my chest when the chapel’s steeple appeared above the palm trees, and I could barely restrain myself from bursting from the truck and running inside when the fountain, and then the wooden double doors came into view. Jared was inside, and the wait had already been an awful test of my patience.
Beth lightly touched the top of my hand, and only then did I realize I was tapping her knee.
“We’re here,” she said, pulling at the door handle.
Bex stood on the walkway with a wide grin on his face. “You look good.”
“Thanks,” I said, touched by his sentiment.
“All right, enough chitchat. We’re not in the church, yet,” Cynthia said, orchestrating another transfer. She lifted the hem of one side of my dress while directing Beth to lift the other, and together we climbed the steps.
Inside, Lillian waited. Once recognition hit, her eyes lit up, and she clapped her hands together, quickly bringing them to her mouth. “Oh. Oh my goodness,” she said, tears glossing her eyes. “You’re even more beautiful than I imagined.” She looked to Cynthia. “It’s so good to see you,” she said, hugging her old friend.
“As it is you,” Cynthia said with a warm but demure smile.
Lillian blotted her eyes with a tissue and shook her head. She looked upon me with pure love and adoration. She had always regarded me with an adulation that I never quite understood, but the look in her eyes was new to me.
“May I seat you?” Bex said to Cynthia, offering his arm.
“Yes, thank you,” she said, walking with Bex into the church.