Chapter 4
Note to self:
Become a more adult-like adult ASAP.
“Less than three weeks now. Are you ready for darkness to descend upon you?” I asked, grinning at my oldest brother on the phone screen. Since moving to Portland, the only time I got to “see” him were the couple of times a week we talked on the phone.
He snickered. “Don’t talk about Mom like that.”
“Be nice.” Cal’s fiancée, Melanie, leaned against him to fit into the frame. “You know she means well. Her methods are a little…” Her voice trailed off, unsure how to best complete that sentence.
Cal and I laughed. Melanie was sweet and kind and stupidly in love with my brother. I liked her a lot, even if she’d been the one to encourage my brother to apply for a job two thousand miles away.
“You two are impossible.” Melanie rolled her eyes and then shoved Cal out of the frame. “I did want to ask you one more time…”
I sighed. “Melanie.”
“I just want to make sure you’re not going to be uncomfortable.” She squeezed her hands together under her chin. “I want everyone happy that day and I don’t want to have to worry about a screaming match between members of the wedding party.”
“I have never had a screaming match in my life,” I said, offended.
No need to waste that sort of energy when there are other ways to deal with someone.
“It’s not you I’m worried about doing the yelling,” Melanie muttered. “I know Alec?—”
“I’ll be fine, I promise.”
Here’s another thing about Melanie—she was Alec’s older sister. Yes, that Alec. In fact, Alec and I had been the ones to introduce her to Cal. And look at us now. Cal and Melanie were about to get married, and I’d gladly spend a lot of money to never be in the same room with Alec again. But I’ve been determined to be the bigger person. I could get through a couple of days of being around him and not cause trouble.
Probably.
Melanie nibbled her bottom lip, concern flitting across her face. “Are you sure? We could figure something out.”
“He’s your brother. He has every right to be at your wedding. We’re both adults.”
Big words from me. Big, lying words. Sure, the fresh fish I hid in his car after the break-up wasn’t exactly mature on my part. And giving every realtor in the Dallas/Fort Worth area his phone number and email address wasn’t totally on the up and up.
But he started it. How he broke up with me. What he was doing forty-eight hours later. Yeah, he definitely started it.
“If you’re sure?”
“Totally.” I grinned so wide my cheeks hurt but I’m really trying to sell it. For Cal and Melanie, I would suck it up. It’s not like I would have to talk to him except to be polite.
“Alright then.” Melanie stared at me for a beat longer, maybe waiting for me to break into a blubbery mess of tears. Not happening. “Have you gotten your dress?”
“Yup. And I have to say I look pretty damn good in it.” We’d had a choice of dress styles all in the same soft-pink color. I’d gone with an A-line dress that hit me just below the knee. It was tank-style with a deep V neckline and a belted waist.
“Always humble.”
“Always,” I repeated with a grin.
As a member of the Pear-Shaped Body Society, I had narrower shoulders, wide hips, and enough junk in the trunk to outfit an antique store. Because I didn’t drive, I walked everywhere, ran a couple of times a week, and was always up for a friendly game of soccer. I liked to move my body when I could but I wasn’t doing it so I could look better; I did it because it made me feel better.
However, it did not change the shape of my body, and that was cool. If not being a size 8 (or 10, or…okay, fine, I was a size 14) meant still getting to eat homemade lasagna and snickerdoodles, I was just fine. (Even if trying to find a pair of jeans that didn’t gap at my waist was near impossible.)
“And the shoes?” she asked, her voice a touch sharp. “You returned the other ones and got the right ones.”
“Um…”
“Ali,” she snapped. “You need the right shoes, or you’ll ruin the entire mood of the wedding party.”
Melanie was an elementary art teacher and about the sweetest, gentlest person I knew. She caught spiders in the bathroom and escorted them outside after she’d given them names and backstories. Besides already being poor (’cause teacher), she often bought extras for the students she worried about—school supplies, shoes, coats. She was a bona fide saint.
But planning a wedding could bring out another side in a person. A scary, demanding, irrational side.
For the record, I had gotten the correct style of shoes but in pure white instead of cream. Clearly a mistake worthy of ruining everything. “I’m going later this week. I still have time, I swear.”
Melanie stared at me for a long, uncomfortable moment and then suddenly smiled. “I can’t wait to see you. I’m so excited. I’m giving you back to your brother. He’s starting to pout. Talk to you soon.”
Cal’s face reappeared. “Hey, kid, I wanted to ask you something.”
“Don’t call me kid.” I knew he wouldn’t stop and I kind of liked it anyway. It was our thing.
Calvin Coolidge was the oldest of my brothers, seven years my senior. Our parents named each of the boys after presidents, the other two being Franklin Roosevelt and Abraham Lincoln. You can guess why they all preferred nicknames.
As for me, I was named for my two grandmothers: Alicia Grace. When I was about six or so, I asked why I hadn’t been named after a president and Mom told me there hadn’t been one to name me after. Family lore states I sighed deeply, and said very seriously, “Well, I guess I’ll do it then.”
As my oldest brother, Cal gave the best advice and if trouble was brewing, he’d step in in a heartbeat to take the heat. Now, I’m not saying I got in trouble a lot…let’s say a moderate amount…but there’s never been a bully or an injustice I could pass up without at least doing something about it. If I needed an alibi, Cal always provided it, no questions asked.
“I have a favor,” he said, his voice pensive.
“I promised I wouldn’t pull any pranks on the wedding day. Although, I think you should reconsider my idea of The Muppets’ theme song for the recessional.”
“No,” Melanie yelled in the background. “Just no.”
“I’ll bring the sheet music. I can just slip it to the piano player. Sometimes it’s better to ask for forgiveness than permission.”
Melanie’s face popped back onto the screen. “If I hear even a note of that song, I will tell your mother that living alone scares you.”
I sucked in a breath. “You wouldn’t.”
“Try me, lady.”
“Fine. Yes, I promise. Go yell at your florist or something. You’re freaking me out.”
“Alright, honey, she understands,” Cal said, his voice gentle. He pried the phone away from his intended, who was still staring at me with freakishly violent eyes. Finally, she turned, and I watched her walk through the doorway to the kitchen behind Cal’s head.
Cal shook his head. “I can’t wait for this wedding to be over.”
“I heard that,” Melanie bellowed. “Don’t think I can’t hear you even if you’re whispering.”
He smacked a palm against his forehead, and I bit back a laugh.
“So, this favor…”
“It’s a big one.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I asked Abe to come to the wedding.”
“Really?”
“He hasn’t said yes.” A sadness seeped into his eyes. “I want this. I want to have everyone together. It’s time, you know?”
“Yeah,” I whispered.
Abe was the youngest of my brothers, four years—almost to the day—older than me. And perhaps because he was the nearest in age to me, he’d been the one I was closest to growing up. Abe had a soft, mushy heart he’d hid under a surly, teenage boy attitude. He was great with his hands, an out-of-the-box kind of thinker, but he struggled in school, never making the grades our brothers did.
He and Dad fought constantly. Dad called him lazy and unambitious. When Abe graduated (still not quite sure how that happened) and decided to forego college for a job working at an auto shop in Houston, Dad was livid. The accident was the last straw. The fight between them that night was huge, the things they said to each other, things that couldn’t be unsaid. Painful things. The next morning when I woke, Abe was gone.
One day, I had my brother, one of my best friends, and the next, he wasn’t there. He never came back.
Oh, we talked on the phone. Sometimes I even got him to send a photo, or video-chat with me. In Colorado now, he was doing well for himself. He was part owner of a successful auto shop. He seemed happy, and I was happy for him.
But he hadn’t spoken to our parents in eleven long years or been back to Two Harts. He’d missed birthdays and holidays and celebrations and hugs from our mom. He hadn’t even come home when Grandma Grace died a year ago.
We talked about most things in our lives. I knew about the girlfriends he’d had; he knew about Alec. Movies, music, TV shows, pet peeves, almost anything, except for the accident. Neither of us ever brought that up. But the guilt was like a living thing inside me.
“I think if it came from you, he might seriously consider it.”
My pulse thumped in my ears; sweat gathered at the back of my neck. “I’m not sure this is a good idea.”
“He always had a hard time saying no to you.” He paused, clearing his throat. My big brother, who’d always had my back since I was a scrawny tagalong kid sister, had to look away before I saw the tears welling up. “I miss him, Ali. He should be there.”
“I miss him, too.” So much.
But Cal didn’t know the whole story. No one did. Abe wasn’t the reason for that accident, as everyone thought; I was.