On This Day (5 page)

I
t’s hard to concentrate on being all nice and sociable at this luncheon when so many crazy details are running through my mind. On top of everything else, the bridesmaids’ bouquets still haven’t arrived, and when they do, I have to be there to make sure they’re soaking in water, and knowing the florist, I can only guess what condition they’ll be in. Then there’s this stupid mess-up with the cake. Instead of pale “barely pink roses,” they’re bright purple! Hopefully, the chef in the lodge will help straighten it out without turning the cake into a finger-painting disaster. These are just some of the complications of throwing a wedding so far from civilization. Not that it isn’t beautiful out here—it totally is. And I do happen to think destination weddings are cool. Although I’d want a smaller one. And maybe someplace tropical. Yeah, right. Like my family can afford something like that. Get real, Ingrid.

Even so, maybe I should ask Jason about waiting until next summer and finding a place kind of like this. Of course, even this would probably cost too much. And Jason seems so set on New Year’s Eve, which I have to admit is feeling closer than ever right now.

I wonder how Jason would react if I told him I want to postpone our wedding date. Would he suspect that I’m having doubts? Am I? I mean, I totally love Jason, I’m sure I do, but maybe we jumped the gun in getting engaged so soon. What if I was just caught up in Jennifer’s excitement when I said yes to Jason—back when we started planning this wedding, when it was still fun dreaming up all this chaos? I remember how cool it was to pick out our dresses and all the little things everyone says you need to throw a “perfect” wedding.

Okay, this might be exhaustion talking right now, but it feels like a big wake-up call to me, like having the “perfect” wedding is not such a great reason to get married. What if I’ve made a big mistake? I guess I’m glad that Jason won’t get here until later today. That not only gives me time to get these last-minute things under control, but it also gives me time to get my doubts and questions under control. If that’s even possible. But the truth is, right now—right this minute—I am actually thinking this may be the time to break it off with him. I mean, why let things go on if it’s all just a stupid mistake? But on the other hand, I could just be having a maid-of-honor meltdown. Who knows?

Now it hits me that my table manners could use some help when I notice the woman across the table from me has an empty
glass, and the iced-tea pitcher is right next to my elbow. “More iced tea?” I offer. I came in after introductions, but I think she’s Michael’s sister-in-law, and judging by her expression, she’s not too jazzed to be here. I’ve heard that she and David are sort of the black sheep of the family, although Jenny isn’t sure why. But maybe this woman’s just tired. I mean, that little baby in the lobby was cute enough, but I’m sure she’s a handful, too. That’s when I notice the dark circles beneath this woman’s eyes, and I am certain she’s exhausted. Makes you want to think twice before having kids.

“Thanks,” she says as I refill her glass. Then I mention seeing her baby, and Jennifer’s grandmother begins talking to her about babies and how wonderful they are. A relief to me, since this is definitely not my forte. In fact, just seeing this poor woman makes me more certain than ever that I don’t want to get pregnant anytime soon. Which brings me to another thing, a thing I’ve tried not to think about too much. Jason keeps saying he wants to have kids right away. What’s up with that? Why can’t we just enjoy being newlyweds for a while? Like why do we have to go from two to three in maybe a year or less? And when I questioned him, he told me, “There’s no reason to wait.”

“What if I’m not ready?”

“Do you think anyone is ever ready?” he asked. And then he went into lecture mode, telling me about how too many women put off having kids until it’s too late and that he doesn’t want that to happen to us. Of course, he’s thirty-two, not to mention an only child who assumes that a big family will make him the happiest
guy on the planet. “I want lots of kids,” he told me a couple of months ago.

“Define ‘lots,’” I said with real fear in my heart.

“At least four. Maybe even six. Man, that would be fun!”

Fun? Yeah, right. I was the youngest of four kids, and I’ve seen the good and the bad sides of big families up close and personal, and I honestly don’t think I’m ready for something like that. I mean, the earliest I’d want to have kids would be about five years or more, like maybe my midthirties. But even then I can’t imagine having more than one or possibly two. More and more I am thinking this is a great big mistake with Jason and me.

I chat with Jenny’s grandma a bit longer. She’s such a sweet lady. Doing a way better job of being hospitable than I am at this table. And then, out of the blue, Michaels boss’s wife leaves in what looks like a hissy fit, and after a couple of minutes, Jenny’s aunt stands up and leaves as well. Like did I miss something? And as a result I feel even more guilty. Maybe I should have been more involved. Why am I so checked out? But, then again, I can’t handle everything. Thankfully, Jenny’s grandma keeps the conversation rolling, and before long, the two men who seem to have been abandoned by their wives start talking about professional golf and Tiger Woods. What could be more boring?

Okay, maybe it’s the other conversation at this table. Jenny’s grandma and Michael’s sister-in-law (whose name seems to be Laura) are going on and on about babies as if they’re the most interesting creatures on earth. Bite me! Even so, I play the good
maid of honor, pretending to be amused by all this baby talk, although I am seriously considering sneaking out of here to take a mental health break. After a few minutes Jenny’s grandma gets interrupted from her conversation with Laura by a relative who popped by to say hello, and I decide it must be my turn to be nice to Jenny’s soon-to-be sister-in-law. More baby talk.

“So, how old is your little—” But I stop in midsentence when I notice these two conspicuous, round, wet spots on her chest. At first I think she’s spilled her drink, but then (thanks to my older sisters, who both have babies) I realize she’s probably a nursing mom with a slight overflow problem. The sad thing is that she appears to be oblivious. Well, until she notices me staring, that is. Then she looks horrified. But I take my cardigan and stand up and move next to her. “Uh, do you want to borrow my cardigan?” I offer. Without waiting for her answer, I drape the lightweight cotton sweater on her, allowing the sleeves to hang over her shoulders and cover the growing spots.

“Thank you,” she says quickly, relief written all over her face. “This is so embarrassing.”

So I take the empty seat next to her and start telling her all about my sister Kate, who has this exact same problem. I even tell Laura about these weird-looking Swedish nursing cups that Kate uses and how they actually catch and hold the overflow.

“I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“Yeah, they’re pretty weird. My sister could pass for Wonder Woman if they just came with points.”

Laura laughs, and we talk a little while longer before she and Jenny’s grandma excuse themselves. Just then my cell phone, which I’d put in silent mode, begins to vibrate and buzz, and I hurry outside the tent to answer it with a quiet “hey” as I move farther away from the tent. It seems I have the only cell phone service that actually works up here, which is both a blessing and a curse—a blessing when you need to reach the florist in a hurry but a curse when you don’t particularly want to talk to your fiancé.

“Ingrid?” His voice is breaking up a little, but I know who it is.

“Hey, Jason,” I say, forcing a lightness I don’t feel into my voice. “What’s up?” I walk closer to the lake now and sit down on a wooden bench where my phone reception seems a little better.

“Just missing you, babe. How’s it going?”

I pretend I’m glad he called. And I tell him about the morning stress—how the cake’s still not right and the flowers haven’t arrived yet. But the weird thing is that he totally surprises me by seeming concerned. Usually he acts like all this is “girl stuff” and like he could care less. I’m slightly stunned that he’s somewhat consoling. What’s up with this? We talk for a while, and I suddenly wonder why I’m feeling so freaked about marrying this guy. I mean, what do I expect in a man—absolute perfection? And isn’t it true that I love him? And that he loves me? So I hang up feeling slightly confused. Like maybe I
am
having a maid-of-honor meltdown. That’s when I see the florist’s truck pulling up in front of the lodge, and I hurry over to check on the missing flowers. Hopefully they didn’t send over petunias or sunflowers or something else totally ridiculous!

I
walk a slightly inebriated Suzette back to her room, catching curious glances as we weave from side to side, and make sure she’s safely in bed. I’m not sure what else to do for her, but I suspect she’ll be sleeping this off during the afternoon, which might keep her out of trouble. Maybe she’ll even forget what happened to push her over the edge during lunch, and I can only hope she’ll forget all the things I told her about my own marriage, but I sort of doubt it.

As I walk back toward the luncheon, which I’m guessing may be over and done with by now, I decide I should give Jeannette a heads-up about this little incident with Suzette and her philandering husband. I certainly don’t want any emotional outbursts from Suzette messing up Jenny’s wedding.

“Hey, Elizabeth,” calls Ingrid as she carries a stack of teetering boxes through the large carved doorway that leads to the lodge.

“Need some help?” I ask as they nearly spill over. I catch the one sliding from the top and then take a couple of boxes to carry.

“Thanks.” Ingrid smiles gratefully. “The bridesmaids’ flowers finally arrived.”

“So I guess there’s no need to gather wildflowers along the lakeside then.”

“No, but thanks for the thought.”

“How are you holding up?” I ask as I follow her up the stairs to the room that’s being used for storage and prewedding preparations.

“Okay, I guess.” She balances the boxes on one arm as she unlocks the door with an old-fashioned brass key. “But I’m starting to see that weddings aren’t just fun and games.”

“A lot of work, eh?”

“You got that right. Makes me wonder if I really want to go through all this for myself after all.”

I set the boxes on a table and turn to face her. “Seriously, Ingrid? You’re not having actual second thoughts, are you?”

She turns away and busies herself filling cans with water from the sink in the bathroom. I open the florist boxes and help her situate the bouquets in the water, but I am still waiting for her to answer. I’ve watched Ingrid grow up right alongside Jenny, and I know her well enough to see that something’s really bothering her.

Finally she speaks. “I don’t know, Elizabeth. I guess I’m wondering if I really want to get married or not.”

“Why’s that?”

“I’m not sure. But I’m feeling kind of freaked. Like what if I’ve
just gotten caught up in Jenny’s wedding excitement, you know? Jumped onto the wedding bandwagon just for the fun of it? What if I don’t really love Jason?”

“Do you?”

“Love him?” She turns and gives me a blank look. “I guess so.”

“But you’re having some doubts?”

She nods. “I’m not sure what I think about marriage right now.”

I consider this. At the moment I’m not too sure what I think about marriage myself, but in fairness to Ingrid, I decide to put my personal feelings aside. “How is your relationship with Jason? I mean, does he treat you well?”

“Oh, yeah. He’s great. He treats me like a princess.”

I consider this. “Well, that doesn’t sound too bad.”

“But we don’t agree on everything.”

“No one does.”

“Like having kids. He wants lots, and right away. I’m not so sure.”

“Hmm … That could be a fairly big thing.”

“That’s what I thought too.”

But I’m still thinking about her weak response to my question about love. “What do
you
think you should do, Ingrid?”

Her big blue eyes get slightly misty. “I don’t know exactly. I was thinking maybe I should call the whole thing off—today even. I mean, why string him along if I’m this unsure?”

“So you are unsure?”

She shrugs again. “Maybe so.”

“Okay, I’ll ask you again.
Do you love him?”

She takes a deep breath. “I
thought
I did.”

“But you don’t anymore?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, if you don’t know, that sounds like a bit of a red flag to me. Maybe you should rethink the whole thing. You know what they say—when in doubt,
don’t
. But really, Ingrid, is this a decision you must make today? You have to admit you’re feeling a little stressed right now. Maybe you should get through this wedding, give yourself a week or so to think things over, and then make a decision.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” She grins. “Anyway, Jenny always says that Aunt Elizabeth gives the best advice.”

Now this makes me laugh. “Too bad I don’t have any for myself.”

She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, right. As if you need any.”

I want to tell her not to be so sure, but then I realize this poor young thing has enough on her mind right now. So, instead, I hug her and tell her to make sure she gives herself a little rest before it’s time for the wedding to start. “I know you’ve been running yourself ragged for this wedding, but Jenny certainly doesn’t want her maid of honor to collapse from exhaustion during the ceremony, you know.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s the bride who usually does that.”

Then she thanks me for helping her, and we go our separate ways.

“Elizabeth?” says a familiar voice. I turn to see Jenny’s grandmother, Margaret, coming my way. Laura, from our luncheon table, is with her.

“I guess this means I missed lunch,” I say as I join them.

“Well, there might be some food left,” offers Laura. “But people are starting to clear out.”

“Is Suzette all right?” asks Margaret, and I wonder how much she knows.

“She’s resting.”

Margaret nods. “That’s just what I want Laura to do. Poor thing is fatigued from caring for her newborn around the clock. I told her I’d watch the little darling while she takes a nap.”

“I’m going to get her now,” says Laura. “Then I’ll take her to Margaret’s room and—”

“Can I help you?” I offer, wondering why I have this need to assist everyone today. Not that it’s so unusual, but I sense I’m overworking it a bit. Maybe it’s simply my excuse to avoid something else—such as my husband. Well, whatever it is, I just keep going with it. Aunt Elizabeth to the rescue.

“Oh, that’s okay,” says Laura. “It’s not—”

“Why not?” injects Margaret. “Let Elizabeth accompany you to your room, and she can deliver your baby to me. That way you’ll get even more rest. And, as I recall, Elizabeth is quite good with babies.”

I smile at her. “Thanks.”

“I remember one Christmas that no one could soothe little Jennifer the way you did.”

“She was so colicky.”

Margaret tells me her room number, and I go with Laura back to her room. She’s still protesting, but when we get there, we see a frustrated teen baby-sitter and a somewhat fussy and, as it turns out, hungry baby. I can tell Laura is relieved for any extra help right now. I wait while she nurses and burps the baby. Then I step in and take charge, gently removing the baby from her arms.

“Just give me the diaper bag, and Margaret and I will see that she gets changed. In the meantime, don’t waste a minute. Do what you need to, then get yourself a nice, long nap. We’ll bring Amy back when she needs you.”

“You’re really okay with—”

“Trust us, Laura. We’re almost family now.”

She smiles. “Thanks.”

I escort the much calmer baby down the hallway and try not to get too worried when she spits up all over my sleeve. Good thing DKNY is washable. Suzette’s outfit would’ve been toast.

“Elizabeth?”

Of course I recognize his voice instantly, but stubbornly I continue walking as if I didn’t hear him, until he calls again.

“What are you doing with that baby?” Phil asks with a completely bewildered expression. “I mean, whose is it? And where are you going?”

Without looking him in the eyes, I say, “This is Jenny’s little niece-in-law-to-be. Her name is Amy, and I’m taking her to Margaret’s room so poor Laura can have a nap.” Then I glance up at
him, and I suppose my expression is a bit less than loving and kind.
“Is that okay with you?”

“Well, uh, sure. I thought I might take a short hike, get some fresh air and exercise, enjoy the great outdoors.”

I feel my eyes rolling slightly. “Yeah, why not? Gotta stay in shape.”

He doesn’t miss the sarcastic edge to my tone. “What’s wrong with that?”

Thank goodness little Amy is starting to squirm, giving me an excuse to end this conversation. “Look, Phil, I need to get Amy settled. I suppose I’ll see you later.”

“But what about—”

Just then Amy lets out a loud squeal that cuts him off.
Good girl
, I’m thinking. “Sorry, I need to go,” I say as I turn and walk away. I try to walk as if I’m not angry, but I know the sharp clicking sound of my heels is a dead giveaway. Well, so what? Why shouldn’t I be angry? Twenty-five years, or nearly, and this is the thanks I get from him. And after talking with Suzette and hearing about how Jim is carrying on, I wouldn’t be surprised if Phil hasn’t invited Delia to meet him here. Maybe he has her hidden away in one of those cabins I saw when we first arrived. Maybe they’re having a little tryst this very afternoon. Maybe Phil is actually relieved that I’m giving him the cold shoulder so he doesn’t have to make some lame excuse for getting away from me. Even so, he’s sure putting on a good act right now, as if he’s trying to make me feel like the guilty party.