22
There was too much to be thought, and felt, and said, for attention to any other objects.—Pride it started in July.”
“Worse and worse.” He shakes his head. “You should have told me.”
“I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d give me grief... as you are now.”
“I’m only giving you grief because you didn’t tell me.” I give him a quelling look. “Fine, I’ll stop. Just tell me... how’s it going?”
How to answer? I could say the truth: Awesome. Amazing! Better than I dared hope. I’m obsessed. In just a few hours, I’m going to see her, and I’m so excited and nervous my heart feels like it will combust. But I’m a guy, so I settle on, “I don’t think she hates me.”
Charlie laughs and slaps his knee. “Judging from that grin, I’d say things are going better than that.”
***
We pull up to Swinging Bridge picnic area, a flat meadow surrounded by massive silent cliffs. Not surprisingly, there are no other cars here at 6:50 in the morning. Every noise we make sounds extra loud in the empty parking lot. Charlie gets out of the car and glances around, disappointed. “Looks like we beat them,” he says as he returns to the passenger seat.
“To be fair, you didn’t have to do hair and makeup,” I point out.
“I’ll have you know I did my hair.” Charlie touches his impeccable blond hair. “Is that them?”
A Jeep pulls up that I don’t recognize. Out of the passenger seat climbs a petite middle-aged woman in a full-length down coat—I’m guessing it’s the photographer. Charlie bounces out of our car, heading over to greet them, when a female voice yells. “Charlie, No! Not yet!” My whole body recognizes that voice. And it’s not Caroline. With an uncontrollable smile, I get out of the car. Lettie clomps in snow boots to block the back passenger door of her vehicle.
She leans against the door with her arms folded. “Go away, Charlie!” Then, in a softer voice. “Hi, Liam!” She says, her eyes sparkling. “It’s good to see you. Can’t wait to catch up.”
Lettie is here, standing in front of me, breathing out clouds of frozen air. I find myself staring, lost for words. “Liam,” she says. “Can you make sure the groom doesn’t look over while Jane gets out? This is very important to her.”
“Got it.” I frog march Charlie to the other side of my black Rover. Once he is looking in the opposite direction, I holler, “All clear.”
“Thank you!” Lettie calls back.
“Good to see you, too!” I shout, finally finding my words.
“I promise I won’t peek,” Charlie says with his eyes fixed on the cliffs ahead. “In my excitement, I forgot. You don’t need to guard me. Go give Lettie a proper welcome.”
“I plan on it. Trust me. But first, I’m going to make sure Jane gets the photos she wants.” As I guard Charlie, I watch Lettie dressed in a puffy coat, snow boots, and that same old red beanie tramping on the snow to create a path for Jane to follow.
She runs back to us in a few minutes. The photographer is already taking photos of Jane crossing the snowy bridge.
“You’re going to love this next bit,” Lettie says to me.
“Am I?” I ask. I’m still not sure what we’re doing here. And why I’m guarding Charlie. But I get that this is important to the bride and Lettie. So, I do what I’m told.
She pauses, unzips her backpack, and pulls out a long gray knitted scarf. “Wrap this around his head.”
“You’re right,” I chuckle. “I do like this.” I take the scarf from her and wrap it around Bingham’s pretty boy head.
“Don’t mess up my hair,” he says in jest, I think. Some people tend to have wild bedhead no matter how hard they try to tame it. Charlie’s hair is the opposite. No amount of physical activity, rain, wind or snow, helmets or hats can mess up his freakishly blond Ken Doll hair.
“Do I look stupid? I bet I look stupid,” Charlie sputters. He does look a little strange in his gray three-piece suit with a bespoke boutonniere and his head wrapped in a bulky gray scarf.
“You look like you have a wasp’s nest on your head,” Lettie says with a huge smile.
“Do I?” asks a slightly muffled Charlie.
“You do.” I secure the scarf in place.
“Now what?” Charlie asks with a hint of whine in his voice.
“Now, I give Lettie a proper greeting.”
“Wait! I wanted to watch.” He’s straight-up whining now.
“Charlie,” Lettie calls as I take her hand and pull her to a private corner of the parking lot. “Shut up!”
After four months of waiting, I open my arms and Lettie jumps into them.
I lift her off the ground and twirl her around.
“Liam!” she squeals and giggles. I can feel her laughter against my chest and it thaws something deep inside of me.
In the background Charlie squawks, “What’s happening?
I set Lettie down gently. She places a mittened hand on my chest. Even through all our cold weather layers her deliberate touch does something to me.
“It’s you,” She whispers. “You’re here. In real life.”
“I am.” She’s smiling up at me in wonder, her cheeks rosy with the cold.
“Lettie... ” I breathe out her name, I had no idea I could feel such gladness.
“Liam... ” she says my name like it means something. Her mittened hand reaches the back of my head. With a determined glint in her eyes, she gently nudges my face toward her, demanding a kiss. I am happy to oblige. I lower my mouth; she meets me halfway. We both pause for an instant, appreciating the zing of first contact. Then I pull her closer and she deepens the kiss. In a flash, everything turns hot and passionate and volatile. All the white world melts away until it is just Lettie and me. Me and Lettie. We are wholly absorbed in giving and taking, celebrating and cherishing, discovering and delighting the other. She pulls away far too soon, leaving me wanting more.
“We’ll do more catching up later,” she says with a mischievous grin.
“Hey! I’m still here!” gripes Charlie standing alone at the other end of the parking lot.
“Let’s take him to his bride,” concedes Lettie. The two of us guide him blindfolded through the snow to the exact spot on the bridge Jane and the photographer deem perfect for photos. Lettie hustles off to attend to Jane. With Charlie’s back to Jane, I’m given the green light to unwrap his blindfold.
“How’s my hair?” he asks.
“Same as it always is.”
“How was the kiss?”
“None of your business.”
“It is a little bit,” he says with a smug grin. “Jane and I planned this so you two would get some time together this morning.”
“Really?”
“We didn’t need either of you to drive us. We could have had the photographer drive with me blindfolded.”
“Well then... thank you,” I say, and I mean it. “You’re a very good friend.”
“I’m well aware,” says Charlie.
Lettie crosses to our side of the bridge.
“Keep your back turned until Jane taps your shoulder.” She admonishes Charlie.
“Sheesh, one mistake, and everyone acts like I can’t follow instructions,” he grumbles.
Lettie grabs my hand like this is something we do every day. The funny thing is it kind of feels like it. “C’mon, we don’t want to be in the picture.” She leads me along, my bare hand holding her red mitten. We leave the bridge and find a spot in the snow-filled meadow where we can watch but not end up in the photos.
“Are you cold?” I ask.
“If you’re offering to keep me warm, yes,” she says.
I wrap my arms around her stomach and pull her close to my chest. “Better?”
“The best!” She coos. “I’m so happy to see you again.”
“I am so happy not to be 1700 miles away from you.”
“Wait! Watch,” she whispers. “It’s happening now.”
Jane, wearing a gray woolen cloak over her wedding dress, steps across the bridge, looking like an illustration from one of my grandma’s old fairytales. She taps Charlie on the shoulder. He turns around. For a moment, the frozen valley holds its breath. The gray hood partially conceals Jane’s face. She pulls it back, revealing an incandescent smile.
“Do you think he’s crying?” Lettie asks.
“Seems likely.” I picture Lettie standing in front of me, dressed in white, holding a bridal bouquet. Even with my arms wrapped snugly around her, it seems an impossible dream. “I would be.”
“Me too, I think,” she whispers. “I don’t normally cry happy tears. But I’d be so happy.” Does she mean she’d be so happy if it were me? I want to believe that, but I don’t dare. Charlie wipes his face with the back of his hand. “Did you see that?” she asks.
“Yeah, looks like Jane’s tearing up, too.”
“No surprise there. She cries when she sees a picture of a cute puppy.”
I chuckle. Lettie always makes me laugh.
“How did things go with Caroline last night,” I ask.
“She had a rough night. She’s struggling, which is understandable. This is her first wedding since her broken engagement.”
“Thanks for being so nice to her.”
“I am usually nice,” she answers, slightly offended.
“Not always, not to me.”
“All that is in the past. I plan on being extremely nice to you.”
“Be still my heart. Is Lettie Benson flirting with me?”
“Shut up. I’ve been flirting with you for months in my emails and texts.”
“But this is in person. This is next level.”
“It kind of is.” I can hear the happiness in her voice.
“Now what’s happening?” I ask, nuzzling in closer. The photographer has left the couple alone on the bridge and snaps photos from a distance. Jane and Charlie face each other, holding hands like two people in a musical about to burst into song.
“They’re exchanging the vows they wrote.”
“Huh?” I consider this.
“It’s sweet.” Lettie sighs. “It’s nice for the couple to have a quiet moment together before all the busyness of the ceremony.”
A light mist swirls up from the water while the morning sun turns all the snow and ice, the softest shade of pink. Scenery this good should not go to waste. With my hands on her shoulders, I gently turn Lettie around and give her another proper kiss.
***
The wedding passes in a happy blur. I do not get enough time with Lettie because, true to her word, she stands by Caroline, which totally messes up my plans but is very kind and needed. I can’t complain. I love that Lettie is so generous. Even before I met her, I knew that she was exceptionally thoughtful. She cares. That’s why the Pumpkin Hunt was such a smashing success. But to be nice to Caroline, who has never been that nice to her. I find that impressive. And she’s not doing it because she’s cowed by Caroline or is trying to win her over. Nope, Lettie’s not one bit intimidated by Charlie’s sister. Rather, she’s taken sad Caroline under her wing for Jane and Charlie’s sake, so their big day isn’t marred by Caroline’s tears.
I wish my mom could see this side of Lettie. Though admittedly, she’s warming up to the idea of Lettie. She even helped me with her Christmas gift. When my mom and sister return from England, I hope I can introduce Lettie to them as my girlfriend. I’m planning to be as happy as Charlie and Jane—even happier.
I leave the wedding with giddy anticipation. I made plans with Lettie to have dinner tonight. Sure, there are a few things we still need to talk over. In a couple days, I’m flying to England, and she’s driving back to Iowa. I really don’t want to date long-distance, and with my job, moving isn’t an option. But we can make it work—I know it.
I wish Lettie were driving home with me, or, better yet, we could have just stayed at the lodge. But she has already promised to drive some friends home, and no rooms are left. I checked as soon as we returned from the photoshoot and saw another storm was headed toward us. Hoping to beat the storm, all of us without rooms left immediately after the wedding lunch. I’m afraid we didn’t leave fast enough. Styrofoam snow bounces on my windshield. Fast-falling flakes coat the road turning it white and slippery. I wonder if Lettie is behind or ahead of me in this line of cars.
Traffic slows down to under 20 mph in what is fast becoming a blizzard. The snow drops so fast and thick that it’s hard to see more than the brake lights of the car in front of me. I wish I had insisted on driving Lettie and her friends. I don’t think Jane’s Audi has four-wheel drive. All the cars hit their brakes. Up ahead, I think I see a green Audi slide and skid right off the edge of the road. Through the whirring snow I can’t see if the car rolled into a meadow or off a hundred-foot drop-off. I’m not exactly a praying man, but I find myself throwing out a plea to the universe, “Please, let her be okay, please!”
I swerve out of the traffic, driving on the shoulder, my Land Rover handling the piles of snow. All the while, I’m inwardly screaming, “I can’t lose her. Not her also.” And in those frantic blurred seconds, I know. This is no passing crush. This is so much more. When I see a green car not far off the road. I pull over, park my vehicle, and am out in a moment.
I clamber through knee-deep snow in my suit pants and leather shoes. Icy snow soaks my thin dress socks. I pound on the window, desperate to see her face. I need to hear her voice and know she’s alright.
“Lettie! Are you okay?” I holler.
She rolls down the window.
“Liam, thank God you’re here. I don’t have cell service. I don’t know what to do? Do you think I can get this car back on the road? I don’t think it’s damaged.”
“No!” I say forcefully. “I’m not letting you drive this vehicle in this weather.”
“But . . . what . . . I can’t just leave it . . . can I?” she dithers.
“Leave the damn car!” I bark. “You guys can ride with me.”
“Just leave it?” She sounds skeptical. “Is that safe?”
“It’s not safe for you to stay out here in a blizzard!” I yell over the wind. “I will buy Jane another car, a hundred cars if I have to. But I’m not going to let you freeze by the roadside. Get your stuff out and let’s go!”
All three of them meekly get out of the car and trudge through the snow, lugging their bags with them. Lettie automatically takes the front passenger seat, which should be no big deal but I notice. Especially, after I just yelled at her. I wish I’d kept my cool. But for one moment, I was out of my mind with terror. I feel so much better having her safe in my car with four-wheel drive.
“Thank you,” she says softly. “I really don’t want to drive in this!” The snow continues to fall with fury.
“These are beastly conditions,” I say. I’ve never seen worse.”
“Will we make it home by seven?” asks Lydia. “I have a date.”
“Me, too,” I say with a swift grin at Lettie. “But I think we’re all out of luck.”
Yellow lights flash ahead. An electric signboard reads: Road closed. Turn Around.
“Sorry,” I tell the whole vehicle of women. “We’re going to have to head back and stop at the first place with a vacancy.
***
Three hours and five motels later, we snag the last room at a roadside inn. Our dumpy room has two queen beds.
“I take the bed with Darcy!” Lydia squeals. “Unless you already have dibs, Lettie?”
“I’m sleeping on the floor,” I say firmly, intending to leave no room for argument.
“You will not,” protests Lettie. “You can sleep in my bed.”
I’m stunned. I must look shocked because she adds, “Obviously, you will be a perfect gentleman with Cat and Lydia here.”
“Obviously,” I say a bit sheepishly. Sleeping in the same bed with Lettie and not touching her might just kill me. But there’s no way I’m going to fight her on this.