Mariah Stewart: Coming Home

Mia returned to the dressing room to change, the saleswoman disappearing with her behind the curtain to assist. When she emerged with the gown in hand, she turned to Vanessa and said, “Are you sure you don’t want to take another look at that dress? You never know…”

“Trust me,” Vanessa told the saleswoman. “I know. Never is the operative word there.”

Mia’s dress was carefully slipped onto a form, then tucked into its garment bag. The saleswoman accompanied Mia and Vanessa to the car, and gently secured it in the backseat. She hugged Mia and made her promise to send pictures of the big day.

Mia slid behind the wheel and eased her new Malibu into traffic.

“For the longest time, it seemed as if the wedding would never get here. Now it’s eight days away and I can’t believe it’s going by so quickly. I don’t know how I’ll get everything finished in time.” Mia shook her head. “I don’t know what I was thinking when I decided to bake cookies for the favors instead of buying something.”

“You were thinking it was your mother’s favorite cookie recipe,” Vanessa reminded her, “and that would be one way of having her there with you.”

“She always made them for family occasions. She always let us help, all four of us. I just don’t know how we’ll get them done.”

“We’re going to bake on Thursday next week, and we’ll box the cookies and tie pretty ribbons around them on Friday. All will be done on time, so relax.”

Mia grinned sheepishly. “You’re probably so tired of hearing about this wedding, the flowers and the invitations and the seating chart and the favors and everything else. Since you’ve been through it all yourself, I guess it’s old hat to you.”

“Not really.” Vanessa turned her head to look out the side window. “I never really had a wedding.”

“What are you talking about? You were married before.” Mia frowned.

“Twice. But I never really had a wedding , not like what you and Beck are having,” Vanessa explained. “The first time was in a Las Vegas chapel, and I wore leggings and a sweater and my bouquet of silk flowers was borrowed from the wife of the Elvis impersonator who owned the place. I had just turned eighteen. The second time I wore a short blue dress I’d bought on sale at the department store where I was working and carried some yellow roses I’d bought for myself on the way to city hall, where a judge performed a two-minute ceremony.”

Vanessa watched a shadow cross Mia’s face, then added, “It’s all right to say it.”

“Say what?” Mia hedged.

“Say that you’re sorry, or, ‘oh, I didn’t know,’ or whatever it is that you’re thinking.”

“I was thinking that I was sorry that neither of them were right for you,” Mia admitted. “That I’m sorry that you didn’t have the hoopla.”

“In retrospect, it would have been wasted hoopla, since neither husband number one nor husband number two was worth it.”

“Ness, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking that all this might bring up bad memories for you.”

“Oh, sweetie, those memories are there, regardless,” Vanessa assured her. “Some things just never go away, you know?”

“I’m sorry,” Mia repeated.

“Why be?” Vanessa forced a brightness she didn’t really feel. “You have every right to be excited and happy and chatty about your wedding. For heaven’s sake, Mia, you’re marrying one hell of a great guy.”

“I am, aren’t I?”

“The best. And it’s going to be a glorious spring day, and it will be the most beautiful wedding ever. Everything will be perfect.”

“It will, mostly thanks to you.” Mia nodded. “I can’t thank you enough for all your help.”

“It’s nothing. I’m a party planner at heart. Besides, Beck’s the only brother I have. I want his day to be wonderful.”

“Maybe someday we’ll get to return the favor.”

“Uh-uh. Don’t even think those evil thoughts. Marriage is not for me. I learned that the hard way.”

“Hey, you’re young, and you never know…”

“Trust me.” Vanessa shook her head. “Been there, done that. Got the scars to prove it.”

The fingers of her right hand rose, and without thinking, she traced a raised line under her shirt, one that ran from just above her left breast to her collarbone. It was only one of the many scars Vanessa bore, one of the many reminders that “bliss” didn’t always follow “wedded.”

Hal Garrity draped his baited line over the index finger of his left hand and let the heavy string drop over the side of his boat into the shallow waters of the Chesapeake. He’d opted for the old rowboat this morning, since the shallows where he preferred to crab was no place for the Shady Lady , his cabin cruiser. This was his favorite time of day-just as the sun rose-and his favorite pastime: sitting in the small craft that had been seasoned by many years of crabbing and had weathered many a storm, much like Hal himself.

It was early in the season, so he didn’t expect to bring in as many crabs as he might in the summer months, but that didn’t matter. He’d take whatever he caught into the police station and fire up a pot of water and steam those blue claws for whoever was lucky enough to be on duty at the time. The size of the catch wasn’t the point of spending a few hours out here or drifting along in the nearby river. The point was having a few hours away from everyone and everything, a few hours to think about things that were on his mind. Today, he had his family on his mind.

First there was Beck. It seemed like only yesterday he’d shown up on Hal’s doorstep, surly and disrespectful and about as full of attitude as a boy could be. It had taken awhile, but he’d worked it all out of him, taught the kid the things he needed to know. By the time Beck graduated from high school, pretty near all of the rough spots had been ironed out. He’d grown into one fine man, and it had given Hal no small amount of satisfaction over the years to have watched his son grow into his own. In his heart, Hal knew that it was he who’d helped mold the unruly boy into the outstanding young man, and he secretly guarded the pride he felt in the job he’d done.

He and Beck had been their own little clan for a long, long time, and that had been just fine with both of them. They understood each other, knew each other’s moods and silences the way parents and children do. Then one day, there was a tentative knock on his door, and when he’d opened it, there stood the loveliest young woman. She was tall and had long dark curly hair, and he’d suspected that under all that makeup, she was probably as beautiful as one of those magazine models. They were in the midst of one of those uncommon early snowfalls, and there were flakes melting in her hair and on her eyelashes.

“Are you Hal?” she’d asked in that scared-to-death voice.

“I am,” he’d told her.

“I’m Vanessa,” she’d said simply, and looked up at him with the palest blue eyes, and in that moment, he’d known exactly who she was. “My mother told me it was time I met you and Beck.”

“How is Maggie?” he’d asked as he’d opened the door to invite her in, then closed it behind her.

And with that, Hal felt his family circle was complete. He had his son, and with Vanessa’s arrival, he had a daughter. Oh, he knew he wasn’t her biological father, and she was already in her twenties when she showed up at his door. But he’d taken the girl into his heart, and he’d been the kind of father she’d needed, and he’d never for a moment regretted having opened his door to her. In many ways, she’d suffered from a lack of good parenting-just as her half brother had-and God knows the girl had a lot of baggage, but inside, she was as sweet a girl as Hal had ever known. As sweet as Maggie had been, when he’d first met her, before he’d gone off to war and fate had had its way with the both of them.