I smiled at hisSeinfeldreference. I didn’t know what to do withthisLogan. This Logan was the one I was most wary of. The one who could carry on a conversation and be interested and thoughtful. He was pressing me for answers and information, and it didn’t seem to match up to the Logan I’d been dating under Jake’s watchful eye. Maybe that was the trigger. Jake hadn’t been a part of this date. We had rules and check-ins that kept us safe from each other. We had some controlled fun and then marked the date off of Jake’s list. But now, I found myself wanting to divulge all. Wanting to go deeper with Logan. To see what might happen.
“You really want to hear this?”
“I really do.”
16
Tessa
It was hotter than the blazes in Eugene last June. To make matters worse, our air conditioning had gone out that morning, the same time my bedroom upstairs was crammed with women—my mom and sister, Kelsey, half-dressed bridesmaids, and a charcuterie board filled with snacks we were all too hot to eat. The record 102 degrees was threatening to make most of us keel over dead. Kelsey had been reduced to holding a towel and wiping away moisture secreted from any visible part of my body, while I was being primped and teased and stuffed into my dress.
Later, out in the orchard, my poor dad looked like a flushed turkey stuffed unnaturally into a blue suit, his cherry face glistening with sweat. My mom kept fanning herself with the wedding itinerary. The scent of my mother-in-law’s jasmine perfume sprinkled throughout the orchard threatened to overpower the apples as we stood in wait for the ceremony to begin.
Tyler’s family were big potato farmers from Salmon. Growing up, I had heard of his family. The Wittenhouse’s owned the potato factory where farmers from all around sold their potatoes. I knew Tyler’s type well—the town golden boy. Handsome, popular, and athletic. He had blond hair and a charming grin that could curl your toes. Every girl loved him. We dated during my second year of physical therapy school before he asked me to marry him.
I don’t remember feeling nervous that day. There were so many things to get done; I spent the morning answering a million questions about where to put this, and what color went here, and did I like this or that. I didn’t really give much thought to the ceremony itself. I hadn’t felt a need to worry about it because, well, what was there to worry about? A nice, handsome guy had picked me, I was in love, and I said yes. Wasn’t that how all love stories went?
There was a problem with the microphone. Dad had already walked me down the rose-petal-covered aisle. Tyler had given me a tight smile as I took his outstretched hand. I had chosen not to wear a veil—much to my mother’s dismay—but gah, it wasn’t 1980. I wanted to see every inflection on Tyler’s face as we pledged our lives together. Tyler’s clammy, cold hands were unusual, especially given the heat, but my attention was soon arrested by Preacher Douglass. He was a cowboy if I ever saw one. Even when he was marrying somebody, he still wore dark jeans and a button-down shirt stretched to the max with a bolo tie cinched at his neck. He pulled the microphone stand closer to himself and opened his mouth to begin the ceremony when a loud screech shrieked through the orchard filled with a hundred of our closest friends and family. The entire crowd jerked as if shot, putting their hands up to their ears to muffle the sound.
After that, the microphone went dead. Tyler attempted a lighthearted fumble with the cords before turning back toward the audience with a shrug of his shoulders. He had never been much of a handyman. Soon, helpful family members and friends in dark suits shuffled toward the podium and began bungling with cords and the microphone.
It was fine. These things happened. A little bump in the ceremony would be something we would laugh about later. Kelsey’s and my childhood was filled withbumpsthat we laughed our guts out at now. The humor was lacking in Tyler’s eyes. In fact, he looked a little green. My fiancé was going to puke. It must have been the heat. Even in the shade of the orchard, there wasn’t a stitch of breeze in the air.
“Are you okay?” I whispered.
He blinked at me and seemed confused by the question.
I asked him again, and this time, he startled out of wherever his thoughts had gone. He smiled weakly at me and squeezed my hand once before mumbling, “I’ll be back.”
He pulled away from me and made his way down the aisle, across the road, and disappeared into my parents’ white, two-story farmhouse.
The mind could be an amazing tool when one was trying to suspend reality. As I watched the back of my fiance’s head walk down the aisle away from me, the idea that he had suddenly developed a strong desire to find some tools was the only option I could come up with that made sense. Or actually, no. He was going to grab the old karaoke machine from the basement and switch it out. It wouldn’t be perfect, but it would elevate Preacher Douglass’s soft voice loud enough for the crowd to hear. Relief filled my body. He was getting the karaoke machine. We had discovered it a few nights earlier in the basement. Kelsey and I had spent many years of our childhood annoying the household by singing our own renditions of pop songs on the radio.
I glanced back at my best friend and, catching her confused gaze, I whispered, “Karaoke machine.”
A small smile lifted her face, though the concern in her eyes remained. I looked around the audience, worry etched on many of the faces staring back at me. Oh no, they thought…
“He’s going to grab the karaoke machine.” I smiled brightly at them all, wanting to laugh, but I couldn’t because of the pit that suddenly appeared in my stomach.
“Testing. Testing.”
My uncle Lance’s voice rang strong throughout the orchard. I turned back toward the preacher and smiled with relief. We needed to get this show moving. Except now, I was missing a fiancé. I looked back toward the house, waiting for the door to swing open with a sandy-haired charmer holding a karaoke machine striding out.
He said he’d be back.
There was a shuffling that came next. The men in suits who had come to rescue the microphone made their way back to their seats. My mom stood up from the front row, meeting my eye, and let me know through gestures that she was going to go find Tyler. To let him know the microphone was now working.
Was he in the bathroom?
I had no idea where I was supposed to look. Faces of people I loved and had known forever looked back at me. Some offered me curious smiles. Most were full of sympathetic nods and pitiful glances. A low hum began in the crowd as some began whispering. A tap on my shoulder had me turning to Preacher Douglass.
“Do you know where yer feller went?” His voice boomed throughout the orchard, the audience doing a collective jerk of their shoulders at the volume. Preacher Douglass’s face reddened as his big, shaking paw clicked the off button. I was rooted to the spot, wide-eyed and tense, suddenly feeling like I wanted to throw up or run away. Or both. I summoned all the strength in my possession to smile meekly at the sweet, bumbling preacher man.
I braved a look toward the house, and my stomach dropped. My mom stood on the porch, motioning for me to come to the house. I couldn’t see the look on her face from the orchard, but judging by her body language…it wasn’t about the karaoke machine.
Swallowing, I turned back to Preacher Douglass. “I’ll go find out.”
My eyes burned in my sockets as I gingerly took a step down the aisle without a husband on my arm. I made the mistake of glancing at my brother, Nate, sitting with his wife and two kids, looking as if he were about to commit a murder. I stopped looking people in the eye after that. Instead, I put a placid smile on my face, as though we had forgotten something and would be back in a minute.
