47. Lucie
“Okay, I know this is the plan, but are you sure you want to do it?” Sabrina said, pushing ivory and cream wedding dresses down the rack.
They’d found a wedding store open near the beach. It was a quaint shop run by a husband-and-wife team, with the wife designing all the dresses.
Each dress was a masterpiece, crafted with beading, chiffon, and tulle. Sunlight sparkled through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Half-drunk champagne, limoncello almonds, and bridal catalogs lined the glass-top coffee table.
The store associate left the friends alone to browse the rows and rows of dresses. It was a bit overwhelming. How was she supposed to say yes to any dress in the sea of fabric and sequins?
As a child, Lucie had pictured her wedding day: the colors, the food, and the dress she would wear, but she always struggled to imagine who she would marry.
Now all she could picture was Finn. She didn’t care about the venue or who was going to be there as long as Finn was waiting at the end of the aisle for her.
“Look, I love my dad, but if you don’t want to marry Finn, you don’t have to,” Sabrina said, glancing back at her.
“We can leave now together. I have lived with Finn for a better part of my life; he was the worst about being tidy and always stole my oatmeal cream pies, and worst of all, he lied about it,” Sabrina grumbled, as if it still bothered her.
Lucie giggled.
Ooh, the beading on that one is pretty, but she didn’t like the sleeves. Past her would have bought the ones with the most coverage to hide her bruises, but not anymore. She was free from her father. She wondered what he was doing at the moment.
Probably drunk as a skunk at the bar. A small part of her wished he were sending out a massive search party for her, but she knew he didn’t care, deep down. She knew the only part of him that would miss her was the part that made him dinner and took out the trash.
“I feel like this is my fault,” Sabrina admitted. “I just don’t want to force you into anything you don’t want to do.”
Lucie slid a couple of poofy tulle dresses down the rack, sure they would swallow her whole.
Lucie thought for a moment, waiting for the panic about getting married to set in. Did she want to get married, or was it a panic-filled situation? She thought about Finn and how he looked at her, how safe she felt in his arms.
“You know, I was never able to imagine my future,” Lucie said, playing with a pearl sewn onto a peach-toned dress.
“It always felt murky. I—” Sabrina came over to her side of the rack, letting her find her words.
“I never saw myself growing old. I thought I was going to live and die in that town. But now—now I see myself painting, white streaks in my hair, sitting in a rocking chair, and you know what? I see Finn there with me. Growing old, still wearing that leather jacket, tattoos fading, holding my hand out by the beach.”
Sabrina gave a tearful smile.
“That’s my answer,” Lucie said, looking at lace veils hanging from the wall. “I finally want to grow old, and I can’t imagine it without him.”
“You love him,” Sabrina said.
“I love him. I want this. I never imagined a happy life, but being here with you at the Way Station, helping people, and being with Finn is what I want.” Knowing what she wanted and going after it was new to her, but with every fiber of her being, she knew she belonged there.
“Is it all happening faster than I would have thought? Yes.” Lucie played with the hem of her sleeve.
“But I have a beautiful life waiting for me, and I can’t wait to start it. ”
Lucie held up a diamond white A-line silhouette lace dress. Sabrina gasped.
“You have to try that one on,” Sabrina gushed.
She had tried on five others, but none of them felt like the clouds were parting and angels were singing as she was being laced into the ethereal dress they’d just found.
Lucie stepped up onto the carpeted box in front of the mirrors.
Wow.
This was the one.
This was the one.
The off-the-shoulder embroidered dress, with billowy sleeves and a long train, hugged her body, making her feel like a princess. It was beautiful; she couldn’t even believe she was allowed to touch it, let alone wear it.
Tears sprang to her eyes. She wished her mom were there to hold her, cry with her, and giggle the night away. In the mirror, she caught Sabrina hastily wiping away a tear. Lucie picked up the train and turned around.
“I think this is the one,” Lucie whispered, unable to believe it. It was perfect, better than anything she could ever have daydreamed of.
Sabrina jumped up from the cream-colored chaise and said, “It’s perfect!
Oh, Lucie, you are the most beautiful bride.
Wait, I have just the thing.” Sabrina ran to the wall of veils and picked one with pearls dripping from the fabric like dewdrops.
Carefully, Sabrina placed the comb into the makeshift updo Lucie had thrown together.
As soon as the veil draped around her body, everything became real. The wedding, the future with Finn, the adventures they would share.
Sabrina wrapped her up in a hug, from behind.
“You are part of that beautiful life I have,” Lucie said to Sabrina. “My mother died when I was young and my father . . . well, you’ve met him, but would you walk me down the aisle?”
“Me?” Sabrina half sobbed, pulling back from the hug.
Lucie turned around. “I’ve never had a sister, but I imagine this is what it feels like. Will you be my Maid of Honor, too?”
“Are you kidding me? Yes! Oh my gosh.” Sabrina gasped.
“I need to find a dress, too.” She looked at her Way Station communicator.
“Our hair and nail appointment is in thirty minutes. Wow, there is a lot to do before tonight, but,” Sabrina winked, “I am the world’s greatest Maid of Honor, and I can do this, Doc. ” Sabrina saluted and ran off.
For a few seconds of quiet, Lucie swished and swayed in the fabric. Hair fell out of her messy bun, the strands covering her scar. She ran a finger down the split and, at the last minute, tucked the strand behind her ear, uncovering her scar.
This was her day.
This was her life.
And it was a happy one.
“Thanks, Mom. For everything,” Lucie said, tilting her head up, and closing her eyes. She didn’t know how, but she knew her mom had a hand in her happy ending. Maybe she put in a good word with the man upstairs so Finn would run out of gas and happen to stop at her shop.
She had survived something she was certain would kill her—a fate in which sunshine and color leaked from her dreams. Now she imagined a dazzling future, and she was running toward it, arms wide open.