Danville Horror: A Pat Wyatt Novel (The Pat Wyatt Series Book 3) (25 page)

“Mortimer and that Bobby”—the way he said Bobby’s name sounded like he wanted to kill him—“are out back doin’ like you wanted, and Angel is out there playin’ in the snow like a pup. Speaking of, the puppy is sound asleep on the couch, and Chrissie insisted that you stay up here until you’re good and ready to come down. Everyone else agreed. Besides,” he breathed, sitting on the bed next to me while I ate, “they called all the people they needed, and they’re just lazin’ around now.”

“Guess that there’s not that many guests,” I said mouth full, and the pancake crunched. “What is in these pancakes?”

He laughed. “They’re not pancakes. They’re hoecakes.”

“What?” I choked.

“Hoecakes,” he repeated. “Some people call them Johnny cakes. They’re a cornmeal pancake.”

“They’re good,” I complimented as I ate. Finally, everything on the plate was gone, and I was ready for a nap, but Mr. Wolf had other ideas.

He started by taking the plate off my lap and pulling me onto his. I must have not been secure because the next thing I knew, I was sliding to the floor and onto my butt. Mike’s eyes widened in shock. “Pat, you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I giggled, even though my rear-end hurt. He helped me up, standing in the process. Then he picked me up, my legs wrapping around his waist, and he walked me over to the vanity, sweeping all of the makeup onto the floor with a clatter.

After everything was thrown, he proceeded to place me on top, but when I sat, he yelped. “Bébé,” he grunted, “my hand.”

“Sorry,” I whispered, hopping off it. It was the hand that never quite healed from my mother’s crucifix when we had used it on Samuel that faithful night we escaped from the Hamptons. “Are you okay?”

“Yup,” he answered with a grimace, which told me how he really felt. “Maybe if I just—” He leaned down to kiss me and hit his forehead on the frame of the mirror. In response, he promptly staggered backward, falling onto the floor.

I rushed over to him, but I tripped on the makeup bag, landing on top of him. In a second, we were both laughing as we laid there.

“This wasn’t a good idea,” I finally managed to say through heaps of giggles. “Maybe we should just forget it.”

“It may be the concussion talkin’,” he chuckled, “but I think you’re right. Maybe we should just lie here.”

I nodded. “Good idea. There’s much less chance that we get hurt just staying still. Besides,” I sighed, “I don’t think anything is going to go exactly right today.” As soon as those words were out of my mouth, there was a knock on my door.

“Is everythin’ all right in there?” Mortimer’s voice called from the other side.

“Yeah,” I hollered, “we’re good.”

“Are ye decent?” he asked.

“Yup,” Mike answered, but we still remained on the floor.

Mortimer walked in, and as both of us looked up at him, his eyes widened at the mess in the room. “What ‘appened in ‘ere?”

“Mike was trying to be romantic,” I said, and Mike laughed. But there was something in Mortimer’s eyes that suggested that this was no laughing matter. “What’s wrong?”

His brow furrowed and then he grimaced. “Ye gotta come downstairs and see this fur yerself. Hello, Mike,” he added politely.

“Hey, Mort,” Mike responded as we got up off the floor.

All three of us rushed downstairs, and I quickly checked on a sleeping Fang before we made our way into the kitchen. Tina rushed over to me while everyone looked utterly drained. “We’ve got huge problem. The people who made the cake showed up—”

“Wait,” I interrupted, “I thought Edna did the cake?”

Tina sighed. “She did, but they were new deliverers and, well, just look,” she almost whined with frustration.

When she stepped aside, she showed me a cake that was in the shape of a pair of naked breasts, and my mouth dropped open. “What the hell?” I shouted, walking over to the median where the cake was.

“They’re outside right now, trying to figure out what happened,” Sandy said, still staring at the cake dumbfounded.

Angel stood by Bobby, and I saw them trying not to laugh while Mortimer and Mike sat down next to Madison, who had her forehead on the table. My mother stood behind the median, and I noticed that there were tears in her eyes.

“Don’t cry, Cindy,” I comforted her, patting her on the shoulder. “It’ll be okay, Moms,” I added in a whisper.

“I know,” she whispered back in her English voice while her lower lip quivered. Then she burst into laughter. “It’s ridiculous,” she said aloud in Cindy’s voice.

Mad’s shoulders started to shake as she giggled with her head down. Then Angel and Bobby broke out into fits and slaps on the knees. Mortimer, Mike, Sandy, and Tina didn’t find it the least bit funny, and I just stood there shaking my head.

Finally, the two cake delivery guys walked in and everyone sobered up. “Well,” Tina huffed, folding her arms with an eyebrow cocked.

The taller of the two in a huge parka with his hood up said, “It turns out that your cake was sent to the Waylan’s in Allentown, and that this was for their bachelor party.”

“Can we get our cake back?” I asked them, and the smaller of the two men shook his head. “And why not?”

“It was severely damaged in transport,” he answered, looking at his shoes.

I closed my eyes to the headache that was forming. “Well, can’t she make another,
smaller
, one?”

They both shook their heads. “She’s really sick, ma’am,” the smaller one answered. “But she would like to give you a full refund and said you can keep the…” he paused, pointing at the tit cake, “that.”

“We don’t want it,” Tina screamed at them. “Just get it outta here.”

After they apologized about a thousand times, they took the inappropriate cake out of the house, leaving with one more apology as they promised to get the money to my father by the end of the day. Once they were gone, it was time to go into overdrive.

“Do we have flour, sugar, butter, eggs, and vanilla?” I asked Cindy/Moms, and she nodded. “Cake pans?” She nodded again, and I looked to Angel and Mortimer. I gestured to them both, and they came running. “I need you two to run to the store and get me all the plain vanilla icing and some decorative silver sugars and stuff like that.”

“The ball bearin’s?” Mortimer asked, and I nodded.

“But just the silver ones, nothing white, except for the icing. Got it?”

They both nodded, and Angel asked, “Do you want me to get some boxed cake mix just in case?”

“Great idea, but you have to run, and I mean,
run
,” I said, raising my eyebrows for emphasis.

Realization crossed both their faces, and they nodded again. “You can count on us,” Angel said, and with that, they were out the door like a shot.

“Mike,” I called him over, and he came. “Looks like our baking skills are going to come in handy today. We’re going to make some cake.”

He smiled at me. “I thought you’d never ask.”

I instructed everyone to get ready, and I had Bobby finish the paths with Sandy. Mike and I started to make as much batter as we could while Tina cleared the median and all other surfaces of debris so we would have some place to put the cakes when they were done. Mad said that she was going to watch Fang, and I was grateful for it, while Moms decided to help us with the baking. Angel and Mortimer were back in no time, and by eleven o’clock in the morning, we had all hands on deck, icing and decorating a four-tier wedding cake.

When we were done, it looked good. A little rustic, but that just added to the charm of the whole thing. All of us stood back admiring our handy work and did a collective sigh of relief. Mike and Mortimer put the whole thing in the fridge carefully, and we all relaxed until Sandy and Mad had to leave to get dressed. Mortimer followed shortly after to get his tuxedo. That’s when I realized we were missing someone.

“Where’s Andrew?” I asked. In all the commotion, I hadn’t seen him, and suddenly I became really worried.

“When I came downstairs, he was going up,” Angel answered. “He said he wasn’t feelin’ too good.”

“What do you mean?” Mike asked her, and she shrugged.

We both looked at each other, and we rushed up the stairs, Tina right on our tails. The three of us walked into my sister’s room, but he wasn’t in there, so we made our way to the guest bedroom, and as soon as I opened the door, I saw Andrew on the floor. He looked unconscious, but when I ran over to him, I saw that he was writhing in pain as he held his head.

“What’s wrong, Andrew?” I asked, but he didn’t respond. “Mike!”

Mike picked him up, laying him on the bed. Tina rushed over to him, trying to sooth him, but he just rocked from side to side. “Patty,” her voice was frightened and when I looked at her, she was on the verge of tears.

I looked over at Mike. “What’s wrong with him?”

“He’s havin’ some sorta vision,” Mike said pacing. “It’s either a big one or a lot of ‘em all at once.”

As he cried in pain, there was nothing for us to do but stay there and wait. It was at least twenty minutes before Andrew opened his eyes slowly. Tina cried out in relief, and we could all finally breathe.

“Andy,” Tina whispered to him, “are you all right?” she kissed his forehead, and he lifted his hand, placing it on her cheek.

After a moment, he could finally speak, and he didn’t even grimace in pain. “That was a nightmare. Flashes of crazy things going through my head. Nothing coherent. All I know is that something major is goin’ down today.”

I looked at Mike as if to say that I’d told him, and he nodded. “What exactly did you see?”

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes again. “Well, I saw a huge fight, but I couldn’t see who was in it. Then I saw a knife, the wedding, and a ton of other commotion.”

“Do ya know when?” Mike asked calmly, and Andrew shook his head. “Well, shit.”

“All I know is I came up here because I was hung over, and now I have a worse headache now than I did before.”

“Let me get you some aspirin,” Tina said, getting up off the bed. She walked out of the room, leaving the three of us alone.

“Rest for a while,” I told Andrew. “Don’t think of any of it. If it happens, it happens, okay?”

He smiled weakly at me and yawned. “You’re right. Nothing’s ever set in stone with visions.” Andrew grimaced once more, then closed his eyes and fell asleep.

I placed the throw blanket over him as Mike took off his shoes. By the time Tina got back, he was sound asleep and snoring a little. “I’m gonna stay with him, Patty,” she said quietly. “Just in case.”

I hugged her. “Don’t worry. He’ll be fine.”

When I pulled back, she nodded and mouthed, “Thank you.”

I smiled at her, leaving the room with Mike behind me. We started downstairs where little Fang greeted us. Mike picked him up, petting his ears. Then Mike whispered something to him, and set him down gently.

I cocked a brow at him. “What was that about?”

Mike smiled at me. “Nothin’ really. I just told him to be a good boy.”

Narrowing my eyes at him, I knew he was lying and just couldn’t understand why, so I dropped it. “Uh-huh. Sure.”

Now that Andrew confirmed my feelings that the day was going to get worse, I knew I had to brace myself for the inevitable craziness that would ensue. However, there was a little part of me that understood I was never going to be fully prepared for everything that would happen.

Everybody was back in the Wyatt asylum by one in the afternoon. Mrs. A had come with the dresses about twelve-thirty, like she had promised, and as she helped my mother get dressed, Tina came in to do her makeup, which was my cue to make sure that the caterers had all the stuff set up in the separate tent that Mortimer and Andrew put up after Mortimer came back from the hotel with his suit.

When all the food was ready to go, I begrudgingly took some more pain meds. As it turned out the roughhousing with Mike had sent my wrist aching like the Dickens, and it wasn’t until I relaxed for about ten seconds that it really started to kill. So I took one pill to take the edge off then grabbed Fang off the couch and placed him in my room while Mike woke my father. Thankfully, he wasn’t too worse for wear, and besides a minor headache, he was right at as rain.

Mike gave him a couple of aspirin while I heard Pops apologize for acting the way he did. Then Mike had to keep Pops away from Moms, who was in the guestroom, so he wouldn’t see her see her until she walked down the aisle. When Pops was done with his tuxedo, Mike made him go downstairs as the guests started to arrive. It was all hands on deck, except for me, Tina and Moms, to get everyone in their seats. Of course, Mike and I were the last to get dressed, and Mike unfortunately had to wear one of my father’s old suit jackets and jeans.

Tina, who had been dressed for about thirty minutes, scolded me for not being ready. After a three minute lecture on how frustrating I was, she helped me put on my dress, and when it came to the cast, Mrs. A had created a beautiful cover for it. Once the dress was securely on my body, I decided to wear the same shoes that Samuel sent with the red dress, which was good considering my matron of honor dress was a little too long, and I was ready to go.

When all was said and done, Mike and I met on the landing, smiling at each other. I fixed his tie and made sure Pops’ jacket wasn’t too big on him. Then again, Mike could have worn a paper bag and still have looked good.

“Ya sure I look okay, bébé?” he asked, fidgeting.

“You look great,” I reassured him. The jeans were casual, but the brown jacket, white button-down shirt, and black tie looked more formal. He was a walking contradiction, but he pulled it off.

He took a deep breath. “Weddin’s always make me nervous. So many people. And with Andy’s partial vision, anythin’ can happen.”

“I’ve already warned Mortimer about it,” I told him. It was fairly simple, as soon as the Irish vampire walked back in the house with another dark blue, tailored suit, like the one he wore for the rehearsal, I mentioned to him to be on his guard, and he promised me that he would be. “And you told Angel,” I continued, “so that’s the best we can do for now. Besides, it’s not set in stone.”

He nodded. “You’re right. But I’m still nervous.”