She just wanted me to have what she had with Dad.
Mom holds me by the shoulders. “Are you okay, Magpie?” She uses Dad’s nickname for me. It makes my chest squeeze. “Jeff said you went missing,” she says. She looks down, taking in my outfit for the first time. “What happened to your dress?”
My eyes brim with tears. “I couldn’t breathe, Mom.”
“Oh, honey. Okay…well…it’s only for the ceremony. Your other dresses are in your room, you can change?—”
But I shake my head. “I’m not getting married, Mom.”
Mom’s shoulders sag. But she doesn’t look surprised. She looks like she might have been prepping herself for this. “Why not?”
“She’s just having cold feet,” Jeff says.
I glare at him for speaking over me and open my mouth to tell her everything.
But Jeff looks at me, begging me with his eyes to make some excuse that doesn’t involve him. I know I’ve got his life in my hands. Do I hate him enough to ruin him?
“Maggie is just a little confused,” Jeff says. “She can get like that.”
But to my surprise, now it’s my mom’s turn to glower. “Excuse me?”
“I just mean…you know Maggie. She’s scared. Always hiding.”
Mom’s gone stiff. “Son, it sounds to me like she’s the only one not confused right now.”
Again, I swear Mom’s channeling Dad. Or maybe Grandma.
“Maggie, is there something you’re not telling me?” Mom asks.
I hesitate. But then, over Mom’s shoulder, I see Clint. I’m worried I might be imagining him. He stands in the glow of sunlight, next to one of his beautiful rose bushes. He smiles. It’s a big, broad smile, just like his father’s. Then he lifts his hands and signs.
“Keep going.”
He’s right. Jeff can’t be a pastor if he’s living a lie. I can practically see the words on the notepad appearing before me.
You’re not ruining him. He ruined himself.
“I caught Jeff having sex with his hair stylist,” I say. “Right here, on our wedding day.”
Several gasps erupt around us. I hadn’t noticed we’d drawn a crowd, mostly from Jeff’s side of the guest list.
Jeff goes pale. Then he turns murderous. “Right. So you went off and fucked the help!” he yells.
My eyes widen. I look over to where Clint stands. I think he’s too far away to have read Clint’s lips. But he can read body language. He can see Jeff’s red face; the spittle flying from his mouth.
He comes toward us, fists balled. I know they’re not for anything except to protect me.
But I sign, “Stop.”
Clint halts immediately.
“I’ve got this,” I whisper, knowing he can’t read my lips and hoping he understands.
“Jeff,” I say, voice hard.
But to my shock, my mother steps in front of me.
“I will thank you to keep your temper in check around my daughter,” she says.
