The ceremony itself would happen down at the edge of the water, where guest chairs decorated with pale pink flowers sat waiting for the arrival of the guests in their buses.
My parents pulled in behind us and parked at the edge of the property, next to my car. Kyle came flying out of the back seat and raced straight for the biggest tent and the ice sculpture.
Shayla and Mitchell worked in tandem like a team, and got me into the cabin, where I would be hidden away until the band played my marching music—assuming the groom showed up.
Time passed.
My uncle, the mayor, called to brag about how well the diversion was going, across town. At least that part of the plan was working.
I checked and re-checked the clasp of the broach Dalton’s father had given me.
I stared at the watch on my wrist and watched helplessly as the hands spun around, time slipping away.
Why wasn’t Dalton there yet? Why hadn’t someone called?
I checked my phone for the millionth time. I had a bunch of messages from people I hadn’t talked to in years, congratulating me.
There was also a text message from someone else, from my recent past.
Keith Raven: Hey, I wanted to wish you luck and send you blessings on your special day!
Me: Thanks. I thought you hated Dalton?
To my surprise, I got a response back immediately.
Keith: Life’s too beautiful to hate people. You know me. Besides, I knew you two would end up together.
Me: Yeah, right. He’s late for the wedding. We’re not married yet.
Keith: He’ll be there.
Me: How would you know?
Keith: That day I first met him, at his house, he told me so.
Me: What did he tell you, exactly?
Keith: He said to take special care of his future wife.
Me: We’ll see about that, if he ever shows up. I’m about ready to rip off this dress and run out of here.
Keith: No, you won’t run away this time.
I said goodbye and wished him the best in Italy.
Then I went back to feeling anxious again.
The buses full of wedding guests arrived at the cabin site, their big engines groaning to announce their arrival, even though I couldn’t see anything from the near-empty room at the back of the cabin. I sat in my chair, staring straight ahead with a pretty smile as I got my makeup touched up. Ruby took more photos, and I practiced smiling.
Mitchell darted in and out, getting more and more agitated as the scheduled time for the ceremony came and went.
I started mentally preparing the speech I would give, thanking everyone for coming, and joking about how Dalton was already married to his TV show, but we’d try again next weekend… or something like that.
My father kept pacing and pacing, until I begged my mother to take him somewhere else. I tried to get everyone out of the room, but Shayla wouldn’t budge from my side.
I looked down at my dress and tried to lose myself in its beauty. I hadn’t chosen the mermaid gown, or the cupcake gown, or any of the elaborate dresses I’d tried on. They were all so beautiful and ornate, but not for me. The assistants finally slipped on the designer’s simplest white dress, and something happened. When I looked in the mirror, I didn’t see the dress. Just myself. With a look of wonder on my face.
Of course, because it was one of Nancy’s designs, it wasn’t completely plain. The dress had a secret.
The outside was minimal, but the lining of the dress was a bright fabric, with crazy, asymmetrical stripes in all shades of pink. When I saw the lining, I had commented that it was a shame to hide it away on the inside. That’s when I learned that with a quick flip, the dress fully reversed. I would wear a matching slip on the inside, so neither side would get sweaty, but I would have two dresses for my special day.
I know what you’re thinking.
Why go through the effort of making it reversible when you could just have two dresses? The answer is I don’t know. I don’t know why we girls love half the things we do.
“Stripes are pretty,” I said.
Shayla set down her mimosa and stared at me blankly.
“Maybe I’ll go out in the striped side,” I said to Shayla.
She seemed surprised to hear words coming from my mouth. “But that’s for the party, later.”
“He’s not coming. I suggest we save this disaster now and flip into party mode. Forget the wedding, it was just a publicity stunt anyway. If people don’t want to stay, they can get on the bus and join the picnic at Duck Pond Park. Uncle Steve says half the town is there, and the Bushy Beaver Tails are going onto the bandstand at sundown.”
“Everyone fell for it?”
“Hook, line and sinker.” I was too sad to elaborate, but my uncle had told me that twice as many people had already shown up as had come to the previous year’s town-wide picnic.
By pretending it was a secret, we’d created the biggest party in town history. Everyone had tried to crash the wedding to sneak a peek, only to find mayor Steve Monroe and the whole town council welcoming them to join the festivities. Even a bunch of rednecks from Wolfspit had shown up, dressed in their finest jeans and flannel jackets.
The entire Beaverdale mall had closed early so everyone could go to the event of the year. That annoying gossip reporter, Brooke Summer, was there with her film crew and looking despondent that it wasn’t the wedding site.
That last part made me smile briefly, before the sadness returned.
“Let’s give Dalton ten more minutes,” Shayla said.
We did.
“Five more,” she said.
I stood, shaky on my feet, and opened the door of the room. The caterers were bustling around the cabin, using the new kitchen to finish preparing the dinner for our guests.
I opened the front door of the cabin and paused. Something was buzzing.
With Shayla right behind me, I stepped out of the cabin. Everyone was looking up at the sky and pointing. A small airplane appeared in the sky. The plane got closer and closer, but didn’t drop down for a landing. It soared overhead, then kept going, disappearing into the clouds with my last bit of hope.
CHAPTER 42
I turned to go back into the cabin, my hopes dashed. Fuck it. I was taking off the dress and setting it on fire in the cabin’s wood stove. Someone else could inform the guests.
Shayla screamed and tugged my hand. I followed her pointed finger, up to a dot in the sky.
A sash of orange unfurled above the dot, slowing its descent.
As the parachute got closer, I could make out words on the chute: Dalton Loves Peaches.
Shayla squeezed my hand. “I think he found a way to tell you how he feels.”