3. Chapter 3
three
E ven though Cassie had been part of the phalanx of Flyer women who descended on the clubhouse that morning to ready it for the wedding, it was fun to walk in through the front doors now, and see it through the eyes of a wedding guest.
The clubhouse looked fab–cleaned, shined, and decorated to the hilt, with swags of wheat, autumn leaves, fall mums, and tiny pumpkins. Centerpieces decorated all the tables, atop gold tablecloths.
The big room even smelled of fall spice from the pumpkin candles burning on tall stands by the back doors. Between them sat a cloth-covered table with a huge autumn bouquet, to form the wedding venue.
She snapped a quick phone pic for the Instagram post she planned to do later.
Cassie went to join the bride and her other attendants in one of the back bedrooms. With their hair up and makeup perfect, RaeAnn’s two best friends both rocked their dresses, Dee dark and slim and Lacey a full-figured redhead.
They were both fussing over the bride, who sat on the edge of the bed. Then they moved aside, and Cassie gasped. RaeAnn looked gorgeous, in a cream lace dress with a deep sweet-heart neckline, fitted waist, and handkerchief point hem that fluttered around her calves. Instead of a veil, she wore a spray of cream roses in her blonde hair.
She smiled at Cassie. “Hi, honey. Don’t you look cute?”
“Me? Oh, no,” Cassie breathed. “You look… beautiful.”
“She does, doesn’t she?” Lacey agreed, sniffling.
Rae waved a hand before her face. “No, no, don’t start crying, or I will.”
Dee clapped her hands. “Okay, you two. Flowers, everyone. I hear guitar music.”
She hustled over to an open box brimming with tissue, and lifted out a small bouquet of cream roses, accented with mini-mums and trailing leaves. “Rae, honey, here are yours. Hold those and think happy thoughts. And here are ours. Cassie, hon, would you take a couple of shots of us three?”
“Sure.” Happy to have something to do, Cassie took Dee’s phone and snapped photos of the three friends. Then, on Rae’s insistence, she stepped into the shot and took a selfie.
A sharp knock rattled the door. “Time, ladies.”
“Oh my goodness, okay, um, Cassie, here’s your bouquet. You go first. Big smile.”
As a local guitarist strummed country western songs, Cassie paced through the mouth of the hallway, and through the tables full of people. Her hands were damp around the plastic handle of her small bouquet of russet mums and trailing ivy, because even though she knew and liked, even loved most of the people in the big room, it was weird being the focus of all eyes and trying to walk in a dignified manner, especially with the old ladies snapping photos.
A local pastor stood before the fall display, a big smile on his face.
Mac waited beside him, along with T-Bear and Rocker. All three men wore good jeans, boots, and their cuts over western-style dress shirts. Mac's shirt was cream to match RaeAnn’s dress.
But as she reached the front of the room and stopped on the bride’s side, her dad gave her a wink, and she grinned back, relaxing.
He looked so pleased with himself. And he should be--he was finally putting a ring on the woman for whom he'd been yearning for seventeen years.
Cassie had met a few of the other women he'd dated over the years, and she hadn't really liked any of them. RaeAnn was definitely the best.
Her grand-parents thought RaeAnn a superb choice for their son, too.
John and Georgia Carson beamed proudly from the family table nearest the altar, both short, stocky, and silver-haired. Like a snapshot into the future of her dad when he was their age. And probably herself, more or less. Although she hoped she wouldn’t put on as much weight as her grandma had–eek!
Beside the older couple were Cassie’s Uncle Brad, his wife Celia and their three kids, two boys and a younger girl. One of the boys made a horrible face when he caught Cassie's eye, then grinned, his gaze full of mischief. She remembered in the nick of time that as a member of the wedding party, she had an audience, and instead of making a face back, merely grinned back at him. The three were great kids, despite their mother, who was kind of a bitch.
Tiffany, who was six, gazed dreamily at Cassie and the other bridesmaids, her chin in her hands. Since Tiff was heavily into all things girly, Cassie figured she was busy taking mental notes for her own dream wedding.
There'd been a time when Cassie had had her own wedding all planned, with eight bridesmaids, a groom who resembled her favorite boy band singer of the time, and eight groomsmen. Where she'd gotten that grandiose number, she could not recall. Heck, she didn't even have eight girlfriends, and she lacked sisters to pad their numbers.
And now… she no longer really wanted to get married.
She wanted to get a great job and work hard at it, have a cool apartment to herself and live her own life, not tie herself down to one guy. Not that she wanted to hook up with every guy she found attractive—ugh. She just wanted to be her own person, make her own damn decisions.
Her grandpa Carson caught her eye and winked, and she grinned at him.
Then the music changed to Pachelbel’s Canon—guitar version—and everyone rustled around, getting to their feet. RaeAnn appeared on Connor’s arm, pacing slowly along the aisle through the tables.
The women at the tables sighed collectively when they saw her, and the men chuckled as the groom stared and then shook his head as if to clear it, clapping a hand to his heart.
RaeAnn stepped to stand across from him. As Con took his place by his dad, he and Cassie stuck their tongues out at each other, then grinned guiltily when RaeAnn’s mother Ellen hissed disapprovingly from her seat at one of the front tables.
The bride and groom gazed into each other's eyes, oblivious to everyone, which was cool in Cassie's mind. That they could still be so in love at their age. Not that they were that old--Cassie's dad had been super young when she was born, and still in his twenties when Conner came along. So he was mid- forties, and RaeAnn was still in her thirties.
The music quieted.
"Dearly beloved," the pastor said. "And all you rascals and reprobates," Cassie's dad's club brothers laughed, a deep rumble of sound. "We are gathered here to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony. And if any of our guests doubt that God is with us in this place, remember that He meets us where we are. He works in all of our lives. We have seen the evidence of this in the good works performed by this club, such as the charity runs, the funeral escorts for fallen heroes, and the way they come together to help our community."
Heads were nodding at this, and Flyer old ladies beamed proudly.
RaeAnn's mother Ellen, also at the family table, looked like she'd swallowed a prune. Cassie did not get how the slim, immaculate but cold woman had produced a laid-back and loving daughter like RaeAnn. Maybe Rae took after her father, whoever he was.
The pastor smiled at all of them. "And we see it in the way all of you are gathered here as a family. A rowdy, loud, often contentious family--" more laughter. "But a family, supporting each other through good times and bad, come what may."
He turned to RaeAnn and Mac. "And now, are you two ready?"
Mac held out his hands, and Rae moved to join him, placing her hands in his.
They said their traditional vows, and Mac lifted Rae's hand to press a kiss to the wedding band he'd just placed there. He gazed into her eyes, and Cassie's heart melted at the happiness shining in both their gazes.
Then her dad spoke to his bride, his gravelly voice clear in the hushed clubhouse.
"Mama, everyone here knows how long it took you and me to get here. But I swear, you and I will never again allow words, or silences, or any other person, to come between us. I will work till the end of my days to show you how much I love and appreciate you."
RaeAnn immediately lifted her arms to slide them around his neck, tears welling from her eyes. "Oh, Mac. That's so beautiful. I swear I'll do the same. I love you so much."
Geez, the two of them were so sweet together they made Cassie’s teeth hurt.
She sniffled and swiped at her eyes along with the other women in the bridal party, and her grandma and more than a few of the old ladies. The rest of the audience broke into loud applause, whistles and cheers ringing in the air as the newly married couple kissed. Cassie whipped her phone out from underneath her bouquet, and snapped some pics.
When they finally broke apart, RaeAnn blushing and Mac grinning ear to ear, Cassie moved to hug her dad. "Good job, daddy."
Her dad hugged her back hard and laid a kiss on her hair. "Thanks, baby girl. Means a lot to have you standing with us."
Cassie moved to hug RaeAnn, and they beamed at each other. "A not-so-wicked stepmother of my very own," Cassie teased.
RaeAnn laughed softly, her gaze warm and bright. "And I get you as my daughter... finally."
"All right, you two, move it along," Conner said. "We'll be up here all night."
Cassie batted her eyes at him. "Oh, does my bruvver want a hug?"
He put his hand, palm out. "High five and save the mushy crap for never."
She slapped his hand. "Works for me, baby bro."
He snorted. "Ah-huh. Who's the shrimp here? That would be you."
"Yes, but I'll always be older than you," she told him as their parents moved to the family table to accept congratulations.
"I'm smarter."
"I look better in eye-makeup."
He gave her a look of disgust that only a teen boy could manage. "That one, you can have. Geez, woman."
Cassie snickered as she took her seat at the family table Connor was definitely not the metro or emo kind of teen who might experiment with cosmetics.
He took after their dad in temperament and tastes. And that was cool.
Cooler and RaeAnn’s wedding reception began with club president Stick Vanko rising to stand before the crowd.
His wife Sara stood at his side, smiling although she looked tired despite her perfect makeup, hair, and lovely apricot maternity dress. And no wonder, she was hugely pregnant--with a second set of twins for her husband. His older boys, Kick and Dash, sat at their table, flanked by Webb and Velvet, elderly founding members of the Flyers, and honorary grandparents to all the Flyer kids, especially Stick’s.
"First," Stick said. "My wife and I, and our boys thank you all for coming today. We celebrate with our brother Cooler, his old lady—and now bride—RaeAnn, their son Connor and daughter Cassie. It’s always good to add to our family. We invite you to stay and join us in our celebration. We have food and beer, catered by The Hangar, the best damn brewpub and restaurant in Eastern Washington."
Loud cheers approved of this statement.
Then, the club veep, Rocker stepped forward. "Mac, or as we know you, Cooler. You and RaeAnn asked that no one feel they had to bring gifts, since you're not exactly kids starting out in your first place. But we got you something special, just to show how much we appreciate you."
Rae looked to her husband, who shook his head, looking both amused and suspicious. Cooler gave Rocker a warning look, but the club veep merely shrugged mirthfully.
Then a wave of laughter began on the side of the room nearest the hallway and swept through the rest of the guests, as two of the Flyers wheeled in a big restaurant cart covered with a cloth and festooned with flowers.
In the center of the cart sat a vintage, green-and-white metal Coleman cooler. The lid was open so that all could see the cooler was full of ice, in which rested a number of long-necked Budweisers and a single bottle of champagne.
RaeAnn let out a little shriek of laughter.
Cooler's face turned red under his tan, and he rolled his eyes. "Yeah, thanks," he said dryly.
"What's it all mean, Cooler?" Rav hollered from across the room.
Cassie eyed her dad curiously. She'd love to know too. Obviously, her dad’s road handle was Cooler, but there was some in joke here as well, and a raunchy one by the blush on RaeAnn's face, and the way the Flyer brothers were all snickering.
Definitely photo worthy, and so was one of the guys grinning behind the gift cart. She snapped several photos in quick succession.
But Cooler merely shook his head. "Anyone who doesn't know, don't need to know. And that's all I'm sayin'. Except, thank you all for coming to help us celebrate one of the happiest days of my life--the other two being when those two were born." He pointed at Cassie and Connor as he said this, and a wave of gentle laughter and applause swept the room.
"And now," Cooler hollered, grabbing one of the long-necks and the champagne bottle from the cooler, and holding them high. "Let's party!"
"Beer outside, wine and hard liquor at the bar!" Rocker yelled.
The reception began. The back doors were propped open, revealing a brand-new food truck with the Hangar logo on the side. It stood open to serve, with Hangar cooks smiling in the opening. Tall patio heaters stood on either side, along with several kegs of Hangar microbrews on tables.
The wedding guests eddied happily to claim their drinks, greet the bride and groom, and enjoy the party.
Cooler and RaeAnn circulated, hugging, and kissing and greeting their guests.
Cassie barely noticed these activities. After getting a hug and kiss from her dad and RaeAnn, she sat in her seat at the bridal table, but her gaze was locked on one of the Flyers who had brought in the wedding gift.
The new Flyer—and by new, she meant new enough that she hadn't yet met him in her visits here--was mega hawt. And young–surely in his twenties, like her.
He wasn't classically handsome. He had the broad and burly musculature of a professional bodybuilder.
His brown hair was cut so short it was just a shadow over his scalp, his face was square and almost brutal in its intensity, as if he spent so many hours clenching that broad jaw while powering huge weights that it had remained permanently set in utter determination.
But as he laughed at the look on her dad's face at the delivery of the Coleman cooler, his light eyes twinkled, his plush lips stretched in a wide grin, and a dimple dented his right cheek.
A dimple. She took more pics, to swoon over later.
Somebody hold her up, her knees were weak. That dimple made him look like even more sexy, and mischievous, instead of a stoic, testosterone-laden, mountain of man.
He made her mouth water, like a—a giant bar of chocolate with sea salt sprinkles. She followed his progress through the clubhouse, watching as he stopped to speak to Moke and Shelle, his back to Cassie.
Yum, this view was just as delish as the front. His back was a broad vee down to his narrow hips, and his ass... a work of art over his long, thick legs.
Nope, she didn’t know who he was, but before the party was through, she would.
Oh, yes, she definitely would. She was, if not in love, in a total and complete state of crush.
A sudden babble of loud voices caught Cassie’s attention, along with everyone else.
Cooler and RaeAnn had stopped to greet Pete and Lesa Vanko at one of the tables. Lesa was heavily pregnant under her shimmery brown dress. Right now, she was holding her round belly with both hands, her eyes wide as saucers under her dark hair.
Her big, blond husband was on his feet at her side, his face pale under his tan. "What?" he demanded in a loud, panicked voice. "Milaya moye, you're in labor? Why the hell didn't you say something sooner?"
"I didn't want to ruin the party," Lesa wailed, her eyes filling with tears. "This is RaeAnn and Cooler's wedding."
Cooler gave her a reassuring smile.
"Looks like it's also gonna be a birthday," he told her. "It's okay, mama. We got you. This crowd can still party."
The brunette nodded, but then let out a shriek, clutching her belly. Those nearest her looked down.
"Her water broke!” Pete yelled. "Lesa, baby, what do you need? Tell me and I'll get it for you."
Lesa, panting hard, did not answer. Cassie winced in sympathy at the look on her face. Yikes, remind her never to get pregnant.
“Mac?” RaeAnn asked, turning to him. “What do we do?”
Pete Vanko looked to him too, eyes wild. “Cooler? You’re the EMT. Tell us what to do!”
Cassie’s dad took charge, his voice clear and decisive over the commotion. "Rav, call 911. Tell them birth in progress, paramedic on site, mother is healthy, but we may need transport."
Cooler beckoned to the other men clustering around. "T-Bear, Moke--to me. You two make a sling with your arms, get her into one of the bedrooms. Pete, back off and let them carry her--need you to just be at her side. That’s your job now. Billie, you’re her sis, you come too. Shelle and Manda, make sure the bed has clean sheets. Prospects, get us a pile of clean towels. Della, grab the first aid kit. Let's move!"
As Cassie and the rest of the now quiet wedding guests watched, the two big Flyers linked hands in a sling and carried Lesa carefully into the wide hallway that led back to bedrooms, restrooms and more. Pete strode before them, waving people out of the way, even though they’d already cleared a path. Billie, who had no children, followed, looking freaked but determined.
"Oh, dear Lord," RaeAnn's mother Ellen said under her breath--although Cassie heard because they were seated near each other. "What next?"
Okay, that was kind of bitchy. It wasn't like Lesa got to choose when to go into labor.
“I’m really proud of daddy,” Cassie said. “This is what he does–takes charge, and saves lives.”
Grandma Carson beamed at her. “That’s right, honey.”
"Proud of both my boys," Cassie's grandpa Carson said cheerfully across the table. "And a new baby--I'll drink to that. Anyone else?"
Conner laughed, lifting his hand to give his grandfather a fist bump.
Cassie's grandma Carson raised her penciled brows, but she did it smiling. "You'll drink to anything, John Carson."
Her husband gave her a wink. "Today, I darn sure will. Time to party, mother. We finally got our youngest son married off, after a seventeen-year wait. ‘Bout time our grandson’s folks made it legal, huh?"
Conner and Cassie laughed again. "We’re with you, grandpa."
RaeAnn's mother looked down her nose, but her sister, who had long silver hair and awesome turquoise jewelry, looked amused and entertained.
"Grandpa and I will get the drinks," Conner said, shoving back his chair. He turned politely to RaeAnn's mother. "What can I get you, Gran Ellen? Aunt Linda?"
Ellen's face relaxed in a smile at her grandson. "I'll have a gin&tonic, if they have fresh lime."
"Thank you, sweetie, a g&t sounds lovely," the silver-haired woman said.
“Whiskey&Coke for me, please,” Cassie said. The two men headed to the bar.
Linda leaned forward to smile at Cassie. "Hi, I'm Linda, RaeAnn's aunt. You won't remember, but you and I met once. Your dad had you out for ice cream, at Duffy's Burgers in the Tri-Cities. You would have been four or five, and you had an enormous strawberry ice cream cone with sprinkles on top. You were wearing pink, and you had pink ice cream and sugar sprinkled all over your little face. So cute. And your dad was so proud of his 'baby girl', as he called you."
Cassie grinned back. "Duffy's was my favorite place to go, yeah. I asked to go there every time Dad came to see me, even in the winter. And he still calls me his 'baby girl', can't get him to stop."
Linda laughed gently. "I imagine so. Girls never quite grow up, in their father's eyes."
Ellen snorted. "That's because some of you never do."
Linda elbowed her gently, and Ellen actually cracked a smile. Cassie blinked, because she saw RaeAnn in that smile.
Linda looked to Cassie again. "RaeAnn tells me you attended college. What did you study?"
"I have an AA in business and merchandising," Cassie said proudly.
"Ah," Linda nodded. "And what do you want to do with that?"
Cassie smiled proudly, like the grown-ass woman she was. And tried her best to pretend the formidable Ellen wasn't listening. "I'd like to get into management. Maybe even fashion."
Here she could not, unfortunately, resist looking to Ellen. The woman looked from Cassie's purple-tipped hair to her dress, and then blinked rapidly, as if she had something in her eye.
Cassie could feel the heat of a blush scalding under her skin. She gritted her teeth and held onto her smile like she was getting paid to do so.
Linda came to the rescue once again, indicating the room with a graceful twirl of her hand. "Cassie, tell us about these wonderful people. Who is the tall, dark man who looks as if he ought to be on the set of a Western film?"
"That's Rocker," Cassie said, glad of the distraction. "He's the vice-president of the club. He owns a security firm in Spokane, and he's with Billie, who is about to be an aunt. Beside him is Bouncer, the club's Sergeant-at-Arms. And Stick Vanko is the president. His brother Pete is the one about to become a daddy."
"A formidable group of men," Linda said appreciatively. "And all friends of your father's."
"Brothers," Cassie corrected her. "The Flyers are brothers, not by blood but by choice, as my dad says."
“I thought I was your only uncle?” her Uncle Brad demanded, giving her the stink-eye.
Since he was about as scary as a teddy bear, Cassie batted her lashes at him. “No, but you’re my favoritest uncle.”
“Favoritest is not a word,” Tiffany informed her solemnly. “‘My teacher, Ms Puffin, said.”
Cassie leaned over and grinned at her cousin. “Your teacher is named Ms Puffin? Does she look like a puffin?”
“No, she’s very, very pretty,” Tiff said. “She has blue hair that matches her eyes.”
“Whoa, that’s princess-level glam,” Cassie agreed. “Do you think I should dye my hair to match my eyes?”
“No, because red-and-white aren’t your colors,” Brad put in, and chortled.
His daughter and his niece gave him identical looks of disgust. “He said that to me when I asked to dye my hair to match my eyes too,” Tiff told Cassie. “But mommy said that he’s the one who gots red in his eyes because he stays up too late watching WWE.”
“Does he?” Cassie asked, wrinkling her nose. “He knows that’s not real wrestling, right?”
“It is so real,” said Tiffany’s middle brother Grady vehemently, looking at Cassie as if she’d declared water wasn’t wet. “It’s real. Isn’t it, dad?”
Brad widened his eyes at his son and nodded. “Well, yeah. Otherwise, why would you and me like it so much?”
Cassie giggled behind her hand as Grady scowled at her like a certain famous ex-wrestler. “See? My dad knows.”
“I guess so, “Cassie agreed. “Dads know everything, huh, bud?”
Grady nodded, appeased. Brad winked at Cassie.
“Drinks are here,” Connor announced, returning just ahead of his grandpa. “Hey, who’s ready to eat? I’m starving.”
“I am! I am!” his boy cousins agreed, shooting out of their chairs.
“Hold on, guys,” Brad called, taking a hasty drink of his water. “I’ll come with. Otherwise you’ll end up with four desserts and chips. Ladies, you ready?”
The wedding party, and the other guests settled in to eat, drink and visit while they waited. The Vanko twins started tussling, and two teenagers were dispatched to take them outside to play. Someone cranked the music up too loud, and one of the old ladies hurried to turn it back down. Two of the Flyers began to argue over something, and shove each other playfully, and were hushed by Rocker.
After what seemed like a long time to Cassie, Sara Vanko emerged from the hallway, smiling. She went to her husband and murmured in his ear. Stick Vanko rose and held up his hands for quiet. He got it, instantly. "Happy to announce that my brother Pete and his wife Lesa have a healthy son. Lift your glasses with me, and drink to our new nephew--Mikhail Stefan Vanko."
A cheer went up, along with a babble of happy voices--and a few near-deafening whistles.
"My goodness," Georgia Carson said. "That was fast. Good thing they didn't try to make it to the hospital."
The Airway Heights volunteer FD paramedics hustled in shortly after, equipment in hand, and whisked the new family away to the local hospital to be checked over thoroughly. The new father looked as if he might need this as much as the new mother, being pale under his tan and somewhat wild-eyed.
Mac returned to the party, freshly scrubbed, retucking in his good shirt and wearing a big smile, and they all drank to the groom, for helping deliver a healthy baby at his own wedding.
The cake was cut, and photos were taken of the bridal party, of the bride and groom with Flyer family and friends, and on and on.
Then the music volume went up, tables were shoved back to clear a portion of the clubhouse floor, and the dancing began.