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Ten
„Thank you for coming,“ the bride said, extending her white-gloved hand and smiling ear to ear. „And thank you so much for your help, Charlotte.“
„It was my pleasure and I’m glad things worked out well for you. Everything is so beautiful.“ She couldn’t remember being more sincere about anything.
Her simple suggestion to hold the small wedding in Parsons Garden was a minimal contribution to the charming, almost fairy-tale scene around them. The small garden that had once belonged to the Parsons family was in full bloom with large snow-white magnolia blossoms; bright yellow and pale pink flowers flourished on the Cornelian dogwood and the Japanese weeping cherry. Spring plantings and thick shrubs and the neatly trimmed walk surrounded the carpet of deep green grass where sixty-odd chairs were quietly being rearranged in small groups around tables for a light reception. The string trio that had been playing softly since she stepped through the small iron gate lent an air of magic that hung like a canopy over the garden.
„And I don’t think I’ve ever seen a prettier bride.“
„Me, either,“ the groom said, beaming at both women as Charlotte gave the bride a gentle embrace then moved on to give him one meant for a bear.
„I’m so happy for you, Axel.“
„I’m just glad Uncle Henry isn’t too disappointed. If Janet hadn’t charmed his socks off, I’d be in big trouble right now.“
„That’s not true. All he ever wanted was for you to be happy. And you so obviously are, I’ll bet he’s delighted. In fact, I think I’ll go over right now and make sure he is.“
Henry was, of course, thrilled and felt the need to drag her from one cluster of guests to another introducing her as his brilliant accountant – a term that attested to her sharp mind but did little to invoke the image of a sparkling personality. The Chancellor family was a jolly bunch; Janet’s family was welcoming and kind, and the afternoon wore on in weather that seemed special ordered, clear and bright.
In an unguarded moment of weakness she caught a whiff of fir and fresh snow and turned, expecting to face Mel, there in a crowd of people.
He was nowhere in sight. She missed him.
A small lattice-covered bench located on a shady curve of the path beckoned to her – well, beckoned her sore feet anyway. She wasn’t the only one who’d worn heels to stand on the grass but… what had she been thinking?
She closed her eyes for just a moment, felt the sun on her face, listened to the birds in the bushes… heard the bushes rustling, twigs snapping and opened her eyes again.
From behind the rhododendron on her right a small boy of three or four crawled on his hands and knees – his mother was going to kill him – in his white shirt and khaki dress pants. He gri
„Woof.“ He crawled closer. „Woof. Woof. Woof.“
„Oh my, what a sweet little puppy you are,“ she said, sticking her hand toward him to see if he’d come to her. „Can I pet you?“
„Woof. Woof.“ He came close to her leg and sat back on his legs, putting his front paws on her thigh. He let her smooth down his bowl-shaped cap of chestnut-colored hair, remove a leaf and pat him lightly on the back. „Woof.“
„Do you have a name, little doggy?“
„Woof. Charlie.“
„Charlie is a great name. How old are you, Charlie?“
„Woof. Woof.“ He held up four fingers on his right paw, looking around.
„How many is that?“ She started to count.
„Woof. Four.“
„Four. And where is your keeper, you nice little dog?“
„Woof,“ he said, turning his head. „Hi, Dad. I’m a dog. Woof. Woof.“
„So I see.“ A tall man stepped out of the shadows as he spoke to the boy, but he didn’t take his eyes off Charlotte ’s face as she turned to look up at him.
He had the same thick, rich chestnut-colored hair as his son in a much shorter, hipper version of the comb-it-forward style his son had. He, too, wore a white shirt and khakis but he’d added a tie and carried a brown tweed sport jacket in his left hand. He had a strong chin and his lower lip was fuller than his top; shaded glasses covered his eyes… but it didn’t really matter. She knew him immediately.
„Hi.“ She felt as if she’d greeted him a million times before, yet her throat was tight and her voice sounded strange. She felt tense, her hands trembled in her lap.
„Hello.“ He seemed to suddenly remember his glasses and removed them. His eyes were so dark they looked like holes with no bottoms… she toppled straight into them. „I hope he’s not bothering you. Actually, I know he is… I’m hoping you don’t mind.“
She reached down blindly to pet the boy. „I don’t. I like dogs.“
They continued to stare at one another for one full minute before he motioned for permission to sit beside her. She smiled and tried to move to give him more room but the boy leaned against her right leg and she didn’t get far. The man’s slacks brushed against her leg when he sat; she made a minute adjustment with her thigh and felt the warmth of his skin beneath two thin layers of fabric. Her heart kicked once then flew, lighter than air.
A second later it stopped dead when it finally occurred to her that where there was a small boy and a daddy there was generally a mommy as well.
„All… Although maybe I shouldn’t encourage him. His mother may not appreciate him getting so dirty.“
He wasn’t fooled. He knew what she was asking.
„His mother died three years ago and I don’t think even she could have kept him clean for more then six minutes at a time.“ His stare was intense but she didn’t mind, she couldn’t look away either. „Friend of the bride or the groom?“
„Groom. You?“
„The bride is my cousin.“ So that made him, what, her client Henry’s wife’s ex-sister-in-law’s nephew’s new wife’s cousin… and his son? Small world.
„The groom’s my scuba partner.“
„You dive?“
She nodded. „Do you?“
„Since I was a teenager but I… haven’t for a while. I’ve been a little busy.“
„Woof.“ Charlie crawled several feet away, bent his head down to pick something invisible up in his mouth, crawled back and dropped it at Charlotte’s feet. „Woof. Throw my ball.“
„Please,“ his father said automatically.
„Please. Woof.“
She picked the ball up, threw it and Charlie chased it… and his dad was still staring at her when she turned back. „I bet you’ve been busy. He’s a cute little boy.“
He nodded, his mind on something else. He frowned briefly, then decided to tell her.
„You know I feel like I ought to know your name but I don’t.“
„ Charlotte.“
„It suits you. I mean, I think it does. It feels like it should. I know this is going to sound strange – or like some pick-up line or something – but I feel like I know you. Have we met before? I’m Sam Rutherford.“
„I don’t think so.“ But she knew exactly how he felt as something deep inside snapped and let go, became tranquil and easy, spreading a sense of lightness through her soul. „What do you do?“
„I’m an associate professor of the Romantics and Victorian literature at U Dub.“ A University of Washington professor, of poetry and heartfelt literature – Do not swoon! Don’t do it! „That’s Keats and Shelley, Te
„I know.“ And she’d bet every class he taught was packed full of girls. „I’m an accountant.“ That sounded so dumb she almost slapped her forehead. Her mind was exploding with ideas, but it was so hard to think. „I own my own business.“
In her peripheral vision she knew Charlie had returned with the make-believe ball and, seeing he’d lost her full attention, dropped it a few feet away. He lifted his head, looked over his shoulder as if watching another toss and went to fetch it once more.