Waking Rose: A Fairy Tale Retold (3 page)

It was her sister, following in a cloud of silk veiling, who exuded an air of true tranquility and poise. Blanche, he admitted to himself, was gorgeous, and on this day she shone with a real radiance. Her black hair and fair skin contrasted with each other in harmonious balance, and there was barely a trace of timidity about her as she came down the aisle, unescorted and alone.

Mr. Brier had died several years ago, and Fish and Bear’s father, whom Blanche had become close to in a short period of time, had just died. Her mother Jean had considered walking up with her, but in the wake of Mr. Denniston’s recent death, Blanche decided to honor the memories of these two fathers by walking with them in spirit. It was significant, and painful, that as a bride she walked alone.

But now Bear was coming forward to take her arm—a bit early, but it seemed fitting—and led her up to the altar, where a gray-bearded Franciscan priest with a gruff face stood blinking and smiling despite himself. Bear lifted Blanche’s veil and embraced her. Rose burst into tears, and some in the congregation applauded.

Fish looked at the embracing couple, and noted, on some level, how detached he felt from the whole scene. He knew that logically, he should be joining in the sentimental swell of emotion, or even feeling the sadness of missing those who were not physically present, like his parents, and Father Raymond—instead, he felt nothing. Shouldn’t he be feeling
something
at his brother’s wedding? Why did he sense only a dull blunted emptiness?

You know why. Because this will never be you.

Quietly he picked up a missal and pushed the thoughts away.

2
…there lived a king and queen who were made glad by the birth of a daughter…

Hers

“Oh! You look so much like your father, dear!” Sister Maria gasped, clasping Rose’s hand when she came to her in the receiving line.

“Do I?” Rose asked, bending over to speak to the little nun, her godmother and second cousin who had traveled from Pennsylvania for the wedding.

“It seems like only yesterday that we were celebrating your christening,” Sister Maria said fondly. “It was in a Knights of Columbus Hall, just like this one.” A sudden shadow came over her face. “Well, well, it doesn’t do to brood on the past,” she patted Rose’s hand faintly. “You don’t know what it means to me to see you looking so well.”

“Thank you,” Rose said, giving her a kiss, and tearing up inadvertently. She guessed that remembering her father’s absence was hard for all of the relatives, especially on a day like today. “I’m so glad you could come.” 

“Your mother told me that we’ll be seeing you this fall,” Sister Maria said, changing the subject.

“Yes, of course you will! I can’t wait to visit you!”  Rose squeezed her elderly cousin’s hand as she ushered the nun into the hall.

She couldn’t help glancing proudly around the room. The Knights of Columbus building of Warwick had been the site of many First Communion parties, plays, anniversaries, and graduations for the homeschool community throughout the years. It had a pronounced masculine air of beer and bingo. To Rose, it resembled a mead hall, with its heavy wood beams and high ceiling. With the combined genius of herself, her family and their friends, they had attempted the challenge of balancing the atmosphere by introducing a festive feminine element into this hoary male hall.

It was Rose who had suggested using a host of artificial Christmas trees decorated with white lights to create a forest-like feeling. That had worked better than their usual frothy solutions of crepe paper and pastel tablecloths. They had covered the ancient metal folding chairs of the wedding party with beige canvas and found tablecloths whose floral pattern had a lot of dark green foliage. The centerpieces for the tables were potted violets swathed in Spanish moss, contributing to the woodland atmosphere.

Friends had brought in plants and even small decorated trees to group in the corners, and there were ivy leaves strewn on the dozens of tables. Rose thought it was the perfect setting for a play—a masque, a drama of allegorical proportions, where archetypes and portents would appear disguised as humble peasants or ethereal fairies. She gave a faint shiver of anticipation. It was going to be a wonderful celebration.

H
IS

Fish had endured lavish New York weddings ever since his childhood, and was well used to sumptuous receptions on the Long Island Sound with ice sculptures and caviar tables. He had expected Bear to do something completely different. The reception that the Briers had put together at the rather rustic Knights of Columbus Hall next to an old golf course fit the bill.

The wedding banquet was picnic food, and the atmosphere was largely dictated by the crowds of children who raced around and jumped off the stage. But Blanche and Bear were the true attraction, and as Blanche walked around on Bear’s arm, talking with elderly guests and kissing sticky-fingered children, Fish thought she had chosen to celebrate this day in the best manner possible.

There were cupcakes and hot dogs for the children, appetizers and wedding cake for the adults, and a lot of dancing. Fish didn’t care for it as much as his older brother did, but due to his upbringing, he was well-schooled in a variety of ballroom dances. Of course, he had to dance with Rose for the second song, when the wedding party joined the bridal couple on the floor.

As he had taken her arm to lead her out of church after the wedding ceremony, he had told her that she looked very nice, because she did. Rose had put her hand over his in a way that made him aware of emanations of joy radiating from her. That joy made him uneasy. Was being close to him really making her so happy? Or was it just that she was at her sister’s wedding? Or both?

As they danced, she closed her eyes, and half-smiled, as though she were drinking it all in. He watched her enjoy herself, and felt more worried than flattered. She was making him feel self-conscious, and he was apprehensive that those around them might get the wrong impression.  He remembered that when Blanche and Bear had gotten engaged, Rose had begun to look at him with an expectant air that exasperated Fish. So he had made himself scarce, and she seemed to take the hint. But apparently, she had forgotten again. Fish began to be slightly annoyed with her.

Hers

Rose pondered once again the strange roller coaster of the heart of a girl as she ate her dinner during the reception. She had been in the heights of joy during the Mass, seeing the world of real things, as she called it, and the physical world in an unexpected convergence in the wedding ceremony. Bear and Blanche were almost more than themselves—they were Love and Beloved made manifest, something bigger, something beyond the world, and everyone present in the church could see it. It was as though the wedding Mass had been a metaphysical magnifying glass, where even the words were
real
words, communicating what was really going on, instead of a babble of syllables.

She had been in a rapture of contemplation, weeping openly and unselfconsciously. She was the sister of the bride. She could do that.

And after this transcendent experience, she had switched planes abruptly when she took Fish’s arm to leave the church. She had been so far above the earth that she hadn’t even noticed him, relatively speaking. “You look very nice,” he observed as he held out his arm.

And there she was, back on earth and bounding towards the sky again. A more familiar kind of rapture. And Fish in typical fashion was now starting to ignore her. He must have sensed her pleasure, and pulled back hastily. She was trying hard not to let it bother her.

She watched him out of the corner of her eye as she nibbled on the little quiches and puff pastries, leftover appetizers she was eating instead of dinner. Fish was sitting on the edge of the stage, allowing himself to be teased by some of the flower girls, the younger Kovachs.

Why did she like him? It was so irrational. She counted on her fingers the things she particularly liked about him again, trying to analyze that curious feeling. The way he moved—he walked smoothly, like a lean jaguar. And his thin frame hid his muscles, which were strong. She had once been foolish enough to arm-wrestle him, which had been barely a contest. She had known she would lose as soon as she touched his hand. And the fact that he was just an inch above her height—as though they were a matched set. His profile was striking, sharper than Bear’s. And his eyes, light brown, almost bronze. Unusually good eyes, but she had never had the opportunity to study them closely, of course. Fish seemed to know whenever someone was looking at him, and shied away. He probably knew she was watching him now.

She wondered if he would ask her to dance again, and tried to convince herself that it wouldn’t matter if he wouldn’t.

“You okay, Rose?” The bride had returned to the head table to sit down for a rare break, smoothing her skirts as she slid into her seat. Blanche had been out talking to the guests for most of the dinner.

“Yes, everything’s wonderful,” Rose said, speaking the general truth. But her eyes lingered on Fish.

Her sister knew everything. “Is he avoiding you again?”

“Yes,” Rose sighed. “I wish, I wish, I wish I could pretend I don’t care the smallest whit for him. Then he wouldn’t be so edgy around me. But I can’t seem to help myself.”

Blanche shook her head, with a small smile. “You do seem to make your own trouble, Rose.”

“I bet he’s not going to dance with me again,” Rose said. “I just feel it. I’ve driven him away. He’s going to complain about silly girls and wish aloud for a rational intelligent female to converse with.”

They were both silent. Rose knew that Fish had been friends with a girl at NYU who seemed to match that description, a foreign girl who had been a top scholar. She and Blanche didn’t know if he was pursuing her or not.

“Well, you’re going to college this fall with Kateri Kovach,” Blanche said, indicating Rose’s best friend from her younger years. “Maybe you’ll be able to get over him.”

“We must be optimistic,” Rose said, trying a smile. A new song had started. “Come on, we can’t be grim at your own wedding! Remember this song from our sleepovers when we were kids? Let’s go dance to it.”

She seized Blanche’s hand and tumbled out onto the dance floor to the beat of a sighing singer.

But mama said

you can't hurry love

no, you just have to wait

She said love don't come easy

It's a game of give and take

Rose threw back her head, put a hand on her heart, and sang woefully as Blanche laughed at her.

How long must I wait,

how much more can I take

until loneliness will cause my heart,

heart to break?

The other Kovach girls, comrades from younger years, danced over to join them and the girls broke out into the crazy fifties-style dancing they had developed during nights of sleepovers on the living room floor. Tracy Kovach, now married and six months pregnant, grooved out onto the floor to dance with her younger sisters and their friends. Kateri Kovach, in her long bridesmaid’s gown, linked arms with her younger sister Monica and flipped the younger girl over her back to the shouts and shrieks of the other girls.

No, I can’t bear

to live my life alone

I’m so impatient for a love

to call my own

And when I feel that I, I can’t go on

these precious words

keep me hanging on,

I remember Mama said

Not wanting to miss a cue, Bear leaped over and swept his bride into his arms as Blanche laughed and blushed, her full skirt billowing around her like a cloud. Blanche, Rose remembered, had always been the one who didn’t want to dance at the sleepover parties. But here she was, dancing at her own wedding with her handsome prince.

Rose thought the two of them would go into one of Bear’s famous ballroom dance routines that he had wowed the sisters with before. But instead he put out a hand to Rose, smiling.
He remembers
, Rose thought,
when it was just the three of us, him and Blanche and me. When we were all waiting.

Grinning, Rose took his hand and her sister’s hand and the three of them danced together in the center of the party.

You can’t hurry love

No, you just have to wait

She said love don’t come easy

It’s a game of give and take

The song was so wonderful that Rose’s spirits flew once more. As the song ended and everyone clapped, Rose was so blissful that she deliberately didn’t look over at Fish to see what his reaction was.