Free for the Wedding Page 10

  “I think he was talking to Jason by the pool.”

  Hardly sinister news, but Val grew cold, as if her friend had said Riley was drowning the groom in the deep end. Pulling the towel from her hair, she used it to wipe the mask from her face. “I’ll be right back,” she called, hurrying to the door.

  The pool–where was that? Ignoring the stares of fellow guests, she raced through the lobby in a bathrobe, rubbing the traces of clay from her face. It was time to end this charade before her integrity was shredded beyond recognition.

  A sign pointed her to a side entrance, where the glass doors showed guests swimming and lounging in the fenced recreation area. Jason was among those in the water, his arms performing powerful side strokes. When he climbed from the depths, it was to reveal the sleek, muscled form of a trained athlete.

  Don’t stare, she scolded herself. Her feet suddenly frozen as she took in the impressive build and golden-brown skin.

  He grabbed a towel and joined a group of their friends on the sidelines. One of whom was Riley, perched on the edge of a lounge chair, his jeans and pullover out of place among the swimwear.

  As she watched, their conversation seemed to grow more animated. A sight that prompted Val to push through the doors and hurry towards them.

  “…and so you’ve actually played the same course where they held the Irish Open?” Jason was shaking his head with envy as she drew near. “Man, that’s incredible. I’m a sports columnist and I’ve never even come close to something like that.”

  Sports–a perfectly innocent topic. Val felt silly now for rushing down, especially considering her strange appearance. The terrycloth bathrobe might not be out of place, but traces of clay no doubt lingered on her face.

  Jason didn’t seem to notice as he offered her a welcome grin. “You’re full of surprises,” he told her. “When did you dropkick the quiet life for globe-trotting?”

  “I–I don’t know.” Her eyes narrowed in Riley’s direction, sensing another of his elaborate falsehoods. Possibly involving a jazzed up version of their time at the Shamrock Golf Course.

  “He was asking how we met,” Riley explained, in a careful voice, as if afraid of triggering some explosive reaction with his next words. “So I told him about the train collision–”

  “The car pileup,” she said, a little too harsh in her eagerness to correct.

  “Right,” he said, “That was part of the accident. It got a little confusing,” he told Jason in a side note that made her tense. “After that was the business meeting and the golf course… in Killarney.”

  Was he kidding? Val had never been out of the country; she didn’t even have a current passport. That stuff about world travel was just a silly fantasy she mentioned for dinner conversation. In fact, it surprised her that he even remembered it.

  “I would kill to go to Ireland,” Jason said. “What’s it like?”

  Her mind blanked, every special she’d watched about it on the Travel Channel suddenly deleting itself from her memory bank. “Oh…you know.” She gave a little chuckle, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Green.”

  “I’ve got pictures,” Riley volunteered, whipping the tablet from his pocket. Which apparently still contained images from the Shamrock Golf Course, with its “spirit of Ireland” landscape.

  She circled behind him, leaning close to his ear to hiss, “What are you doing? We agreed no more lies, remember?”

  “Trust me,” he whispered back. “This is a perfect strategy.”

  Jason waited expectantly for the evidence, elbows propped on his knees in a casual stance. Would he realize the green hills and rocky ravines were just a faint imitation? Her breath quickened as the photo roster appeared on the screen.

  Including the snapshot of her and Riley wrestling for the tablet. Her smile in the photo warm as she gazed at him, a look anyone might interpret as something more than playfulness. Especially since she was practically in his arms, her face a kiss away from his.

  “Wait,” said Val.

  Instinctively, she reached for the tablet, planning to delete the photo before it could reach anyone else’s gaze. Her eager hand knocking it from Riley’s grasp with impressive force, a motion that sent the device skittering across the tiled surface.

  Horrified, she watched as it slipped directly into the deep end of the pool. A soft plunk! the only sound besides a burst of laughter from amused bystanders.

  *****

  “I’ve got this covered,” Jason assured them, diving into the clear water. As he kicked towards the bottom, a mortified Val saw her moment to escape. Her bare feet stalking towards the hotel, as she clutched the robe close to her body.

  “Val, wait. Just let me explain this time.” Riley’s sneakers scuffed the tile behind her, a slight pant in his voice as he caught her arm. The touch sent electricity sparking across her skin. Her steps slowed to a halt at the head of the path as she faced him.

  “I didn’t make the whole thing up this time,” he told her in a low voice. “The part about the train is true, so is the business meeting and the golf course. I just embellished the details here and there.”

  “Like transporting us to another continent.” She glared at him, fresh anger rippling through her with the accusation. “Why would you lie about that? I told you that wasn’t helping me.”

  “But it is,” he argued. “You need an epic story, something to compete with this love note stuff that makes your best friend's life so magical. If we can–”

  “Riley,” she broke in. “There’s no story. Nothing to compete with. Believe me.” She chose these words carefully, with such seriousness that it seemed to break through his constant train of thought.

  She was being mysterious, she knew. Her gaze flicking towards the pool, where her friend was in the process of drying off. The rescued tablet in one hand as the other brushed water droplets from his blonde locks.

  Riley followed her glance with obvious cynicism. “You know he’s fanatical about that note, right? He keeps telling the same people about it over and over. This one guy submerged himself for, like, two minutes to avoid hearing it again.”

  “You’re exaggerating,” she said, though part of her believed it. Jason’s whole wedding seemed to depend on this one, seemingly insignificant childhood event.

  Stepping away from Riley, she added, “I don’t expect you to understand it, but please just let this go. I don’t need to compete with that story.”

  “Are you kidding? It’s the perfect boy meets girl, loses girl, gets girl back scenario…”

  He was launching into executive mode, his hand waving like an instructor.

  “First he pours his heart out in a raw, no holds barred confession. Then she writes back a heart wrenching rejection–one that promises him that someday she'll give him her heart–”

  “She didn’t write it,” Val blurted, her temper getting the best of her. “It was me. I answered the note.”

  With the realization of what she had said, she turned and retreated beneath the shelter of the nearby grounds gateway, away from earshot of the guests in the pool a few yards away.

  Riley’s mouth fell slightly open with this confession. “You? But that would mean–”

  “Yes,” she interrupted. “It means I lied to them. But that was a long time ago and I meant to be helpful, and I’m trying to correct the mistake now by being a supportive shoulder and an independent person. So please don’t ruin it for me.”

  The words tumbled out in breathless fashion. Her eyes pleading with him to keep silent about it.

  "Then he's the one," said Riley. "The one this is really all about." In a tone which there was no mistaking, since her face betrayed the truth even in her silence.

  From the other side of the fence, the groom approached, tablet in hand.

  “Here you go, buddy. Hope it’s salvageable,” he said, depositing the tablet in Riley’s hand.

  “It’s waterproof,” he replied. His gaze met Val’s with a spark of reassurance as h
e tucked the device back in his pocket. “One of the new and improved features,” he said.

  She let out a breath, her eyes half-closing with relief. Riley was going to keep her secret; she could depend on him for that much at least.

  She wasn’t out of the woods yet. The groom was still standing there, his expression turning in her direction with a puzzled air.

  “You know,” he said, “I never would’ve pictured you becoming so adventurous. Not the girl who used to spend her summer afternoons at the library.”

  A teasing smile accompanied this, but Val could tell he meant it. There was even a hint of admiration in his blue depths.

  “Guess we’ve all changed since school days," she answered.

  "Except Heather,” he laughed. “She still refuses to set foot on a plane, boat, or pretty much anything not on solid ground.”

  “I remember,” she said. “We could never take escalators at the mall. And that time you made her go on the Ferris wheel–”

  “–and it got stuck. I thought she would never forgive me for that.” He grinned, fingers raking through his damp hair. “We had some crazy times, didn’t we?”

  “Yeah,” she murmured. Holding his gaze longer than she should have, her mind drifting to their sillier moments as adolescents. Aware that beside her, Riley was watching them both intently.

  The sound of his throat clearing jerked her back to reality. “So who’s up for pre-lunch cocktails? ‘Cause I’ve heard the poolside service at this place is unbeatable.”

  Riley’s smile was forced as he glanced between the two of them. His suggestion rousing the groom to his senses and causing Val to blush for indulging a tender moment.

  No doubt Heather was wondering why she’d torn out of the spa earlier that morning. It wouldn't exactly thrill her to know that it was for the sake of gossiping with the groom-to-be beside the pool.

  “I should get cleaned up,” said Jason. “If I show up for lunch in this condition, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

  “Me too,” she said. Stepping aside, she watched him move up the path to the hotel door.

  When he was gone, she became aware that Riley was still watching her, a new level of scrutiny in his gaze. His brown eyes difficult to read, as if he were displeased instead of triumphant over Jason's admiration for her new-found bravery.

  The fault of the damaged tablet, no doubt. “I hope it isn't ruined," she said. "The tablet, I mean. It was really an accident that it ended up in the pool.”

  “It’s fine,” he said, fishing it from his pocket as proof. “Solar Systems has a protective casing that…”

  He trailed off, studying a crack at the base of the screen. Pressing the ‘on’ button to see the picture flicker uncertainly, the menu appearing to jump across the screen in a haphazard manner.

  “Sorry,” she said. Impulsively touching his arm, aware of the firmness of muscle beneath his sleeve. “And thanks by the way–for not telling about the note.”

  He nodded, although he didn’t look at her face. As the tablet sputtered and died, its screen fading to black.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The list of school reunion activities was pinned on a billboard in the hotel lobby, with a sign-up sheet Heather designed to keep the guests from getting bored or overloading any particular event.

  It was also to keep them out of her hair, as she informed Val the day after their not-so-relaxed spa visit.

  “Here I am, planning this whole ceremony, and everyone expects me to be a perfect hostess too,” she complained, securing the list in place with a thumb tack. “Of course, Jason thinks it’s enough that the hotel has a pool and a tennis court. But I keep telling him, when a group of people are stuck somewhere, they have other interests besides goofing off in the outdoors.”

  Val glanced at the list of ideas, her nose wrinkling with distaste. Name That Mystery Tune. Graduation-Year Trivia. Two Truths and a Lie.

  She shuddered at the possibility of Riley participating in the last one. Although he had been on his best behavior lately, making polite conversation at dinner last night, and not even bothering to put in an appearance for this morning’s breakfast buffet.

  Two things which should have made her happy, but instead a twinge of suspicion shot through her. Never a big believer in ESP or premonitions, Val found herself on edge for no clear reason. As if a storm was about to burst upon her newfound opportunity.

  Stupid, of course. All she had to do was clear her conscience by whatever means best suited the happiness of all parties. Her mind including Riley in this equation, for some reason she couldn’t quite explain.

  “Val, it’s here!” The bride squealed, her eyes riveted to the lobby’s glass, where a delivery van could be seen pulling into the parking lot’s designated loading zone. “My wedding gown,” Heather explained. “Help me get it up to the room, okay?”

  White satin was visible through the transparent lid of the box, which proved hefty for something so delicate. Val was out of breath just hauling the garment to the elevator. Her friend cradled one end of the box as if were a child, an information packet from the dress shop tucked beneath her arm.

  “I had them alter the original design,” Heather told her, as they opened the door to her room. “The display shop gown had these hideous sequins and feathers lining the bodice.”

  “I thought you liked sequins,” said Val.

  “Only for casual wear, silly. You never did read your fashion magazines all the way through.”

  In the room, Val relinquished her hold and collapsed onto the bed. The bride popped open the box and removed the dress in its clear garment bag. Hanging it before the mirror, she yanked the zipper open to free the layers of shiny fabric.

  A strapless, mermaid style gown swept the floor as she pulled it from the bag. Little silver threads woven here and there caught the morning sunlight for a semi-enchanted appearance. No sequins or feathers in sight, only a tasteful beaded lace across the bodice and the skirt train.

  Val waited for the murmur of approval her friend always gave before deeming some article fit. The same one used when picking a prom dress, her hand inspecting the fabric like an antiques dealer determining a forgery.

  Silence.

  After what seemed minutes of studying it at arm’s length, Heather began to sniffle. Her mouth trembled, a sob escaping as she slumped to the floor amidst a heap of fabric.

  “What’s wrong?” Val sprang from the bed, pulling several tissues from the bedside table. “Did they mess it up somehow?” she asked. Scanning the dress for a tear or a perhaps a rogue sequin pattern among the satin.

  “No.” Heather’s reply was muffled, her nose buried in a tissue. “It’s fine. Just what I wanted.”

  Her face crumpled in another sob as she covered it with her knees. Val’s fingers gently patted her back, her mind racing with confusion. This wasn’t about the dress, obviously, but she hesitated to suggest the true source. As if saying anything might accidentally trigger a wedding breakup, with herself at fault from beginning to end.

  “Val,” her friend moaned, “what if this is a mistake?”

  “The dress?” Val guessed. Her heart pounded in her chest.

  “I’m talking about me and Jason.” Her eyes raised to meet Val’s, tears swimming beneath the green surface. “What if he doesn’t really love me? What if–” she hesitated, as if afraid of sounding irrational.

  “It’s okay,” said Val, soothingly. "Everybody has doubts...”

  “Maybe he just loves a memory or an idea of me,” her friend said. “Or that stupid note he goes on about as if were a Shakespeare composition.”

  She blew her nose, an angry sound. “I don’t even remember reading it, much less answering it. You would think it’s the only reason we’re together the way he talks about it.”

  Val couldn’t deny this, so she chose to explore a different angle. Drawing a fluttering breath she asked, “But you love Jason, right? If so, that's all that matters."

  “I don’t kno
w,” Heather admitted slowly. Her fingers shredded the wet tissue in a fretful motion as she continued, “I think I do. But now I’m just so–”

  The bedside phone rang, Heather rising to answer it with an irritated look. “Hello?” She released a sniffle, her fingers twining the cord. “Not right, now, okay? The dress just got here and–”

  Heather rolled her eyes, the voice on the other end continuing in persistent tones. “I know we haven’t but…oh, all right. We’ll see.”

  She hung up, a sigh escaping her mouth. “That was Jason. He wants me to come down and play tennis with him.”

  Was that a good idea? Val envisioned a blow-up then and there on the tennis court. A humiliating public scene for the groom, his heart crushed in front of all their friends.

  Perhaps Heather was thinking the same thing. She placed the tissue to her nose, a hopeful look in her glance. “Could you go down instead? Talk to him, see if you can get my point across.”

  “Oh, I don’t …” Val stopped, considering the possibilities. The fact her friend was all but giving her permission to explore the true feelings behind her upcoming nuptials. Exactly what she needed to do, and yet fear burned through her at the prospect of what she might find.

  Was she afraid that Jason loved Heather? Or more afraid that he didn't –and that he loved the writer of the note?

  “Please?” Heather coaxed, a tiny smile forming on her teary face. “You’re the only one I can depend on. Like old times,” she said, for extra measure.

  “Old times,” Val repeated.

  *****

  Jason’s racket swung through the air with expert speed, meeting the tennis ball with a thwap!

  From the other side of the net, Val dove to intercept it. Her sneakers scuffed the court, her aim missing the mark as the ball bounced into the bleachers.

  “Need a break yet?” Jason called. “Or are you up for best of five?”

  She stuck her tongue out, carried away by his infectious teasing. They had fallen into banter easily this time, the ice broken by that moment at the pool yesterday. A begrudging point for her to make, considering the means by which it was achieved.