LaVyrle Spencer - Spring Fancy

"Somebody else!" Fern's face hardened, and she lurched to her feet angrily. "How dare you come to me three weeks before your wedding and tell me such a thing!"

"I don't know how I dare. It scared me all week, just thinking about it, but I decided it was either you or me, mother, and in the end I picked me."

"And what does that mean-you or me?" Fern spit.

"Either I can make you happy or I can make me happy. Mother, can't you see it's really you who admires Paul, not me?"

Two high spots of color appeared in Fern's outraged cheeks. "How dare you speak to me like that!"

Winn sighed and slumped. "Mother, sit down, please. There are so many things we should have talked about during the last year that we never did. About Paul, and me… and you… and even Rita."

Fern's chin snapped up. "Rita? You mean his computer?"

"Yes, his computer. Sit down, mother, please." At last Fern perched on the edge of the chair that matched Winn's. She crossed her knees stiffly and looked as if she'd just eaten a worm. "Mother, Paul and I have only one thing in common that I can think of. Dancing. And he'd rather stay home and punch his computer keys than do that with me. It's you who has things in common with him, not me. I should have realized that when you first introduced him to me. Now I do, and I can't go through with this marriage and take him as surrogate husband to make up for the one you never had."

Fern's lips pursed, but she refused to meet her daughter's eyes. "Are you intimating that I chose Paul for you because I couldn't have him for myself?"

"In a way, yes, but-" Fern spit out a pent breath and rocketed from her chair, presenting her back. "Not in a romantic way, mother, please understand. He's everything you ever wanted for me because he represents stability, security, all the things you had to fight for because you never had a husband. But those things aren't enough for me. I need someone who enjoys having fun, who laughs, who's physical, who… who…" Winn thought of Joseph, and it was as if a beam of sunshine shot into her head.

"I assume you think you've found him in this other man."

"Maybe."

Fern tossed a disdainful glance over her shoulder. "And while you're deciding, what shall I do with all the guests who've been invited to your and Paul's wedding? What should I do with the gifts that have already started arriving here at the house? And the caterers and the flowers and the photographer and the gown?" With each succeeding word Fern's voice grew sharper and higher until she was nearly shrieking. "Do you know how much money this extravaganza has cost me!"

"Not exactly," Winn answered meekly, "but I can imagine."

Fern swung on her daughter, closing in. "You don't get deposits back for those things, sweetheart!" she declared with a sting in each word.

"I know, mother. But I'll pay you back, I promise."

It was silent for a moment, then Fern snorted and turned away. "You'll pay me back." She chuckled coldly. "And you'll pay me back for the embarrassment I'll suffer every time I meet a friend on the street?"

"Mother, this isn't easy for me, either!"

"And what about Paul? Have you told him yet?"

"No." For the first time Winn's voice softened. "I'll tell him tomorrow. I'm picking him up at the airport."

"What a wonderful welcome home for him," Fern jeered.

Suddenly Winn felt sorry for her mother. "Did losing my father turn you so hard and cynical that you can't be happy for me that I've at least made the discovery in time? Would you rather have had me marry Paul first and then find out it wouldn't work?"

Fern's shoulders seemed to wilt a little. She propped one hand across her stomach, dropped her face into the other. Wordlessly she shook her head.

"And you haven't asked me anything about Joseph, mother," Winn added softly.

"What does… Joseph do for a living?" her mother obliged coldly.

"He runs a body shop."

Fern raised one eyebrow, snorted softly and left the room.

But the worst was over. Winn had little doubt that telling Paul wasn't going to be nearly as hard as telling her mother. Oddly enough, it seemed Paul was less emotionally involved than Fern Gardner.

He came off the plane, beaming, with a clothing carrier slung over one shoulder. "Winn, I've missed you." He gave her a kiss while they walked, and launched into a joyous recitation of the wonders of Silicon Valley.

"Do we have time for a cup of coffee?" Winn asked before they headed for the luggage pickup.

"Sure. Anyway, there's so much I want to tell you."

Odd, he didn't notice Winn's uncustomary distractedness while they sat over coffee in The Garden restaurant at Twin Cities International. He was carried away with exuberance. Winn felt extra guilty to have to prick his balloon, but by now all she wanted was to have it out in the open so she could start making restitution and get her life back on track.

After nearly thirty minutes Paul asked, "How is everything back here?" Only then did he notice the shadows in her expression. "Something's wrong, isn't it?"

"Yes, Paul, something's very wrong. You aren't going to like it when I tell you, but I promised myself I would, immediately. It's bad news for us, and it's going to hurt you, I'm afraid. For that I'm sorry."

He leaned forward and took her hands in his, studying her with a look of deep concern. "What's wrong, Winn?"

She'd rehearsed it dozens of times. She took a deep breath, gripped his fingers and said straightforwardly, "I want to call our wedding off."

He blanched and went speechless for several seconds. "Temporarily?" he asked.

"No… permanently," she answered quietly, releasing his hands.

To Paul's great credit he reacted with poise in spite of the fact that his face went from bleached white to peony pink in a matter of five seconds. "Oh… I see." When Winn remained silent, he amended, "No, I don't see! I thought everything was so great between us."

"Paul, answer me honestly. Which brings you greater-" she searched for the proper term "-ongoing joy-me or your work?" He considered for a moment and turned a brighter red than before. "See?" she insisted, leaning forward. "I'm not criticizing you for it. I'm telling you something we both should have recognized long ago. We joined forces because of mother, because you and she had so much in common that when she met you, she thought she just had to have you for me. But, Paul… I… I don't think I love you. I admire you. I respect you. But I don't love you." She paused, then asked, "Will you be very, very honest and tell me if you really love me. Or did we fall together because it worked so smoothly, having the support of our parents as we did? And consider if you wouldn't enjoy me much, much more if I played chess and loved to tinker with computers myself, and enjoyed talking about them with you like mother does. Paul, that's the kind of woman you need. Somebody with an analytical mind that's as inquisitive as yours."

"I can tell you've been thinking about this for a long time."

"It's been… coming on for a few weeks, yes. But I was caught up in the crazy whirlwind preparations for the wedding and couldn't face telling the world-not to mention my mother-that I was canceling everything."

"Can you really do that at this late date? What about all the invitations you sent out already?"

"I'll handle everything, Paul. And I'll make it clear whose fault it was."

His eyebrows took on a frosty expression. "Is there someone else, Winnie?"

This was the most difficult question of all, for Paul didn't deserve to be hurt. "Yes, Paul, there is."

He inhaled deeply, held the breath long, then released it in a giant whoosh, his shoulders sagging. "Well, that settles that."