Doris Fell - Long-Awaited Wedding

“Mom. Dad,” Heather whispered. “Then you don’t mind if I search for her? Please help me. I want to find my birth mother before my wedding day. There’s so much I want to know…so much I need to tell her.”

Her father’s smile turned ragged. “We love you, Heather.”

Nan straightened her shoulders and said bravely, “But right now that isn’t enough, Todd.”

“Not enough?” he asked. “We’ve done—”

Nan reached across and touched his lips. “It has nothing to do with what we’ve done, Todd. We’ve seen this coming—”

“Please, Mom…Dad.”

Her dad looked as lost as Heather felt as he glanced at his wife for confirmation. Then he cleared his throat as he turned back and faced her. “It’s your decision. Your Mother and I will stand by you.”

Outside, the rain kept coming down in torrents. The howling winds whipped up, pushing the rain against the patio door. Lightning streaked across the sky. Claps of thunder bolted and roared back. The electric lights in the room blinked, then blacked out, and they were left in total blackness—a darkness nearly as palpable and pervasive as the empty space in Heather’s heart

As the jet rolled down the runway at SeaTac International on a nonstop flight to southern California, Allen Kladis shut out everything, even the presence of his brother Nick beside him. The last thirty-six hours had revitalized Allen. Once he decided to fly south, he was in charge again. Galvanized by Nick’s mishandling of the merger and by the strong possibility of Nick’s involvement in the missile launch, Allen took back the reins that had been slowly slipping from his grasp. Larhaven was his responsibility, the planned merger totally his own doing.

He was the old Allen—efficient and forceful, brisk and robust With renewed energy, he set the wheels in motion, jumping on track like a car running on new spark plugs. Yesterday he had called an emergency meeting with his executive board. Assignments were delegated with definite nods of approval from the older men. Nick slid into his chair five minutes late, shock registering on his face when he saw Allen conducting the meeting.

It took Allen’s secretary ten seconds to see what was happening—and she was off, gathering up the reports that he needed. Booking him a flight on the airline seemed to please her most.

Vangie had been with him for ten years so she said, “I’m glad you’re going, Mr. Kladis. Your brother Nick—I don’t like to say it, but he still needs your supervision.”

At the last minute, Allen agreed to take Nick with him, and Vangie went off with a satisfied smile to book two reservations for Tuesday.

For the first time in eleven months, Allen had whistled as he showered and packed. He’d even made a last-minute call from the airport to his brother Chris. “Christophorous, is your invitation for a Canadian camping trip still on…? Good. I’ll be back in time, raring to go.”

He had stood there grinning like an idiot into the receiver. “That’s right, little brother. I’m ready to go camping or even flying with you in that Cessna of yours…”

Another pause and then he added, “And, little brother, I’d like to talk to you about taking flying lessons. Yeah, me. I’m ready to soar.”

So here he was, flying off on a business assignment for the first time in months, sitting in first-class with his attaché case stowed in the overhead above him and allowing his thoughts to shift to Adrian. His thoughts of her were pleasant ones, not memories draped in sadness. He found himself smiling, an unexpected sense of peace and freedom surging through him. It was like taking a quick glance at her picture on the mantel or her snapshot in his wallet. But somehow it was different this time. It was like checking in with her to see how he was doing. He knew she’d be pleased that the old Allen was back in charge. Right now, it was as though he wanted to flood his memory with her and then really let her go, to let her soar free from the bounds of earth and from his lingering hold on her. Adrian.

Promise me, she had said, that you won’t grieve. That you will let yourself love someone again.

He had promised, never believing he would lose her. But Adrian had been borne on the wings of angels away from him. He could no longer bring her classic features clearly into focus. Still, these were good memories, as though he’d raked through the bitterness and was taking stock of his future.

Looking down on a ribbon of clouds, he had the feeling that they had both broken the bounds of earth. He had reached a pivotal point over these last few months, and knew that life was still worth living. He didn’t have to hang on to the past or even know what the future held. Companionship, he hoped. Even the thought was guilt-free. He wasn’t looking, but then he hadn’t been looking when Adrian came into his life.

The challenge of working was back. He wanted Larhaven to continue as a top competitor in the aircraft industry. But, unlike his father, he wanted to retire early. He was wealthy enough to do so now, but he had to hang on until he was convinced that Nick could take over. Allen felt like a man at the top of a ski slope, ready to take the mountain. The change had crept up on him. But he felt alive, whole again. The ache inside was still there, but he knew there would be good days ahead.

He grabbed an envelope from his pocket and jotted down the things that he and Adrian had always planned to do: Paris in the spring, a night course on computers, and a crash course in German. Then he struck a line through each one. That was part of his past: Adrian’s goals, no longer his own.

What do I want to do? he asked himself. I’m on my own now. And he wrote down several things: Retire in five years. Travel abroad. Take flying lessons—see Chris about this one. And then he wrote, Pursue peace.

He stared at the words. What had possessed him to write them? Adrian again? No, his Grecian grandmother. She was an old-fashioned woman with the old country ingrained in her life-style. She wore black mostly—shawls, dark stockings and laced-up shoes. But she was bubbly and full of pearly bits of wisdom. When she hugged you against her ample bosom, you felt secure.

“Allen,” she had predicted, “when you have dollar bills coming out of your ears and you’re stinking rich like your father, you won’t be happy. My son never was.” She had squeezed Allen’s hand. “There’s something more to life than making a good living. You find it, Allen. Then you can help Nick and Chris.”

He lifted the pen to cross off the words, then changed his mind. What was wrong with pursuing peace? Allen looked out the aircraft window. The jet was beginning to rumble and bounce from the turbulence. The clouds beneath were gray-white, uneven like snowdrifts.

For the last fifteen minutes, Nick had wandered restlessly through the first-class cabin, talking to other passengers. Now he was up by the kitchen keeping his balance with his feet apart, a third cup of coffee in his hands. And flirting with another flight attendant Nick pointed toward Allen and the attendant peered around the kitchenette.

Now, I can expect sympathy and pity that I don’t want, Allen thought

Allen leaned back in his leather seat and thought about his brothers. Things were going better with Chris, but he was always at odds with Nick. Putting him down. Never thinking he measured up. But that was the way his father had treated all three of them. So he wrote on the back of the envelope: Reconcile with your brothers, particularly with Nick.

The seat belt sign flashed on. Nick would be back, talking nonstop all the way to John Wayne. Allen glanced ahead and saw Nick groping his way down the aisle. As Nick dropped in his seat and fastened the belt, he asked, “What are you doing, Allen?”