Abby Gaines - The Wedding Plan

“It’s pretty straightforward. Everything to you, except for a small bequest to the VVA.” Her dad was a longtime supporter of the Vietnam Veterans of America.

“We’ll get you through this,” she said. “I’m not letting you go, Dad.”

“I’m not worried about you financially,” he persisted. “You’ll do nicely by selling the business. But…Merry-Berry, I think I made a mistake.”

She blinked away tears. “Dad, it’s so hard to avoid infection when you’re on dialysis, anyone could—”

“Not that,” he said. “After your mother died, I should have— Maybe I should have married again.”

Merry straightened, shocked. “No, Dad. You always said you could never love anyone else.”

“Maybe I should have tried. Then I wouldn’t be leaving you alone.” John tipped his head back and stared at the ceiling. “I wish I had met someone else, like Dwight did. But I didn’t even try.”

“I never wanted a stepmother,” Merry said. She thought about Lucas’s brother, Garrett, who until recently had considered Stephanie his enemy. A stepmother she hated would have been far worse than no one at all. “I’ve loved it being just you and me. And I love your stories about Mom, and about how you two met and fell in love.”

Her father’s chin quivered. Barely noticeable, but it was there. Amazing that the memory of her mother still had the power to affect him like that.

“I hate the thought of you being alone,” he said. His fingers fluttered in her grip. “Merry, this has been on my mind for a while.”

If he’d been thinking about it, he’d obviously sensed he was sicker than he’d let on. Was his worry about her future the cause of those “trances” she occasionally found him in? The reason for the stress that had sent his high blood pressure over the edge?

“I’ll be just fine.” Her attempt at reassurance came out thin and unconvincing. Her dad was everything, everyone, to her. She had friends, boyfriends…but no one who put her first in their life. “I—I love you, Dad. So much.” She dug in her pocket for a tissue, blew her nose. “Please, don’t worry about me, just concentrate on getting better.”

A stupid thing to say.

He nodded. But another tear leaked onto his pillow, and then another. And now her tissue was all snotty.

“You’ve been wonderful, the way you’ve looked after me,” he said. “Never interfering or pushy, but making sure I was doing my dialysis, getting regular checkups.”

“I haven’t done anything,” she said. “You wouldn’t let me.”

He smiled, and it felt like a gift. “I was mad when you wouldn’t go away to college, but I’ve been so grateful to have you here with me. A lot of parents, their kids go away to school, they meet some guy or girl on the other side of the country, and that’s it. Gone.”

“I couldn’t leave you, Dad.”

“Instead, I’m leaving you,” he said. “Who’ll look after you, Merry, if you get sick? Who’ll fix your car when that starter motor plays up again?”

“My doctor and my mechanic,” she said, and this time she managed the necessary lightness.

“Who’s going to comfort you when I’m gone?” he asked. “Be at your side, through good times and bad? Not just next week, but for the rest of your life.”

It struck her that during all that time in the waiting room, she hadn’t once thought of calling Patrick.

“There’ll be someone.” She tried to sound confident. “Dad, I don’t want you worrying about me. Think of something that makes you happy.”

“I’ll tell you what would make me happy,” he said with a surge of energy that sent her hopes soaring. “It’d stop me worrying, too.”

“Whatever it is, I’ll make it happen,” she said instantly. “Uh, I don’t have to ‘hang, draw and quarter those idiots who made Fisher Street one-way,’ do I?”

Her father gave a raspy chuckle at one of his favorite threats. “Nothing so drastic, Merry-Berry.” He patted her hand. “I’d like you to get married.”

She laughed, louder than the joke deserved, but if he felt well enough to kid around…

Wait a minute.

He wasn’t smiling.

He was giving her the same look he had when he’d said, “I’d like you to promise me you’ll never get in a car with a boy who’s been drinking.” And, “I’d like you to never smoke marijuana.” No problem with the second, but she couldn’t say she’d obeyed the first a hundred percent. As for this one…

“Dad, no! I can’t just get married out of the blue.”

“What happened to ‘whatever it is, I’ll make it happen’?” He lifted his tubed-and-wired left hand a few inches off the blanket, agitated.

“I can’t work miracles,” she said. “Patrick and I have only been dating for—”

“Patrick!” John’s face turned red. “I don’t want my daughter ending up with that lemon. You need to marry Lucas.”

Merry’s chair scraped harshly against the linoleum as she jerked backward. “Dad, that’s crazy.”

“Think about it,” he said. “You’ve dated on and off for years, so there’s obviously something strong between you.”

A strong desire to shut their fathers up. “More off than on,” she said. “Dad, we’re not—”

“You both know that Dwight and I always hoped you two… But that’s not a good reason,” he said. “What is a good reason is that you suit each other. It’s obvious to everyone.”

“Dad, Lucas and I aren’t that close.” Damn those stupid exaggerations she’d fed their fathers. “Let alone soul mates, which is what you’ve always said I should look for.”

“How do you know you’re not soul mates?” John said. “You’ve never given each other a serious chance.”

“You and Mom knew instantly,” she reminded him.

“We met when we were in our twenties. Chances are, if I’d known her since I was three years old, like you’ve known Lucas, it might have taken me a little longer to see the treasure right before my eyes.”

“Dad, I’m not Lucas’s treasure, and he’s not mine.”

“I think you are,” he said obstinately. “Lucas told me when he was ten years old that he planned to marry you.”

Her jaw dropped. “No way.”

John managed a grin. “Where do you think Dwight and I got the idea?”

“You can hardly hold Lucas to a ten-year-old’s crush.” She wondered if he remembered. Reminding him could be fun....

An alarm beeped on one of her father’s monitors, and she jumped. “What’s that? Dad, are you okay?”

A nurse, older than the one from the waiting room, bustled in, just in time to stop Merry hitting the panic button. “Time for a top-up, Mr. Wyatt.” With deft movements she removed an empty IV bag from its hanger and replaced it with a full one.

Merry didn’t speak until the monitor was chugging along in what she assumed was a normal fashion. Then she said, “Dad, it’s sweet that you’re worried about me....”

“It’s not sweet,” he growled. “It’s hell.”

That silenced her. Momentarily. “Even if I was willing, Lucas doesn’t want to marry me.”

“Have you even asked him?” her dad demanded.

“Of course not.”

“Merry…” Her father briefly closed his eyes. “We both know I’m not going to make it. It would mean more than I can say to know you’re married to Lucas. A man who’ll look after you.”

“He wants to go back to active duty,” she reminded her father.

“That’s his job. The navy will take care of him. And of you, when he’s away.”

Men like her dad and Dwight—and Lucas—considered arguments about the mortality rates in the services irrelevant.

“I know Lucas cares for you,” John said. “If it’s at all possible, please, could you ask him if—if he cares enough to marry you?”