“It’s snowing, Alan. We won’t be able to see the stars.”
“Then we’ll look at the snow. Come on, honey. It’ll be fun.”
“Well . . . all right. I’ll just pack up a couple of things and get into my suit.” Laureen began to feel a little better as she packed up their pillows and blankets. She took her new blue swimming suit out of the drawer and struggled into it. It had a special tummy-slimming panel, but nothing short of a miracle could hide all the extra pounds. She’d been a perfect size eight when they were married, but now, as she caught her reflection in the mirror over the dresser, she sighed. This shade was perfect for her coloring, but she looked like a big blue beach ball.
Alan went into the kitchen and put together two huge sandwiches, roast beef and cheddar on whole wheat bread with a generous dollop of horseradish sauce, and packed them into a picnic hamper. He stuck in a bottle of wine and two glasses and two napkins. Maybe a full stomach and a couple glasses of wine would make Laureen sleepy. Then he went to get some brownies for dessert. He loved Laureen’s brownies.
Alan stopped with his hand on the freezer door, recoiling at the thought of Vanessa in her plastic shroud. Forget the brownies. There was no way he wanted to go in there.
As he walked away, he turned to look back at the freezer door, its brushed steel gleaming in the fluorescent glare of the kitchen lights. Even at wholesale, it had been an expensive addition to their gourmet kitchen, but Laureen found it indispensable for storing those hard-to-find ingredients sometimes required for her show. The industrial appliance was twelve feet long and six feet wide, holding thousands of cubic feet. Its motor was powerful, guaranteed for ten years, and its hum was barely discernible. Although the appliance appeared perfectly benign unless you knew what was inside, Alan certainly couldn’t fault Laureen for being jumpy around it. He was a little jumpy, too. They’d never had a dead neighbor stored in their freezer before.
“Laureen? Ready?”
She appeared almost immediately, carrying a tote bag with their towels, two pillows, two thermal blankets, and a change of clothing for each of them.
Alan’s breath caught in his throat as he stared at his wife. Her eyes were puffy from lack of sleep, but she still looked pretty. And the swimsuit reminded him of one from a long time ago.
Laureen caught his expression and flashed a shy smile. “I just got this suit last week. Do you like it?”
“It looks great. It reminds me of the one you wore on our honeymoon.”
“I didn’t think you’d remember!” Laureen stared at him in pleased amazement. “That’s the reason I bought it. It’s exactly the same shade. Not the same size, of course.”
“So who can wear the same size?” Alan glanced down at his expanded waistline. “People change, Laureen. Besides, you were much too thin when we got married.”
“I was?”
Alan nodded. “We were both pretty skinny back then, and those hipbones of yours almost killed me. Remember?”
“I do.” Laureens’s smile grew wider. “You said you’d have bruises in the morning—and you did. Did you know that I ate nothing but cottage cheese and fruit for three solid months before our wedding?”
Alan looked puzzled. “Why on earth did you do that?”
“I wanted to fit into my mother’s wedding gown and that meant losing thirty-five pounds. It looked nice on me, didn’t it, Alan?”
“You looked ravishing. Where’s our wedding album, anyway? I haven’t looked at those pictures in years.”
“Right here.” Laureen opened the drawer to the table by the couch and handed him a heavy leather book embossed with gold. They’d hired the best photographer in town, and it’d been worth it.
While Laureen looked over his shoulder, Alan opened the book. It was like stepping back in time. “Look at that, Laureen.” Alan pointed to the picture of them at the altar. “We certainly were a handsome couple. And I was right, you did look ravishing.”
Laureen smiled as she examined the photograph, remembering her tears right before the wedding when she thought her hair hadn’t curled right. It looked just fine. Chalk it up to bridal jitters.
Alan flipped the page, “Here’s the one where you’re tossing the bouquet. Who caught it, anyway?”
“Your sister, Shirley. And I had to toss it again because she was already married.”
“Oh, yeah.” Alan nodded. “Pure reflex. In high school Shirl was a star shortstop, so she just reached up and fielded that bouquet.”
Laureen giggled. “I wish the photographer had gotten a picture of her. She was so embarrassed.”
Alan flipped through several photographs of the reception and Laureen smiled as she noticed that the photographer had caught her mother, Millie, nervously rearranging the flowers on the tables. Millie had been in an absolute tizzy for months before the wedding. She’d bought a book with a checklist of everything that had to be done and she’d quizzed Laureen constantly. Had she gone down to pick out the bridesmaids’ flowers? Arranged the ceremony with the minister? Chosen the music? Put down a deposit on the Elks Hall for the reception? And was she absolutely certain the invitations had gone out to all of Alan’s relatives?
A month before the wedding, Laureen’s father had pulled them into the kitchen for a private talk. He’d heard Millie say it might be nice if white doves were released from a net as the bridal couple left the church, but he didn’t think Reverend Thurgood would go for bird shit all over the steps of the church. Millie’s idea of a perfect wedding was not only costing him a fortune, it was turning poor Millie into a nervous wreck. Rather than go through all this nonsense for another four weeks, he’d be glad to write them a check for the whole amount the wedding would cost, provided they eloped right now.
Laureen had turned to Alan for the final decision. They could use the money for a new car or even a down payment on their first house. But just as they were about to agree, Millie had stormed into the kitchen. She’d heard the whole thing and she was furious. He was depriving his only daughter of the precious memories she’d treasure for the rest of her life! And besides, what would everyone think if they called off the wedding now? Only brides who were “that way” ran off to elope . . . unless there was something that Laureen wasn’t telling her?
So the wedding had gone off as scheduled, minus the doves. Laureen’s father had been firm about that. And Millie had talked about Laureen’s wonderful wedding until the day she died.
“Laureen?” Alan reached out for her hand. He looked very solemn. “Will you promise to be honest if I ask you a question?”
“I promise, Alan.”
“After all that’s happened in our life together, would you marry me again? Knowing what you know now?”
Laureen nodded. “I’d marry you, Alan, anytime you asked me. And you?”
“Absolutely.” Alan smiled at her. “You’re the only one I’ve ever loved.”
Laureen blinked away happy tears. It was true. She knew that. And she’d forgiven him for his affair with Vanessa.
Alan turned back to the album. “Look at this one, honey. You’re raising your skirt to show off your garter and my brother Harry’s leering at your legs. He certainly looks different with all his hair.”
Laureen nodded in agreement, distracted by a terrible twinge of conscience. For one brief moment, she’d almost confessed an affair, too, a long time ago. But it would only hurt Alan if he knew, and she’d vowed to carry her guilty secret to her grave.
Alan turned the page and pointed at them cutting the cake. “They always take this shot, don’t they?”
“It’s a standard.” Laureen pasted on a smile and banished her guilty thoughts. “This is my favorite photo, the one of us feeding each other.”
“I remember that moment.” Alan chuckled and squeezed her hand. “You were so nervous you missed my mouth with the cake.”