Nick
"What letter?"
My eyes locked onto Heather's, my face still stinging where she had slapped me. I took a deep breath. Maybe it was time to be completely honest. Lay all the cards out on the table.
"I might have done a tiny bad thing," I said. I held my thumb and forefinger up, the two almost touching.
"What kind of bad thing?" Her voice was as tight as a guitar string. I felt like I could almost pluck it.
"Well..."
I was interrupted by her phone. Rascal Flatts' version of Life is a Highway erupted out of the speaker. Heather growled, jabbed at the phone, and pressed it to her ear.
"Chris, what is it? Now's not a good---what?"
Heather looked at me and the anger in her eyes was suddenly replaced with fear. And worry. "Is he okay?"
"Who's okay?" I mouthed, but she waved her hand at me and spun around.
"Why did you let him up there?" she demanded. "He's not a spring chicken! What hospital?"
There was a pause.
"I don't care if you say he's fine," she said impatiently. "What hospital?"
There was another pause and then Heath sighed. "I'll be on the next flight."
She disconnected and her shoes barely touched ground as she took off again. I grabbed her elbow before she got too far.
"What's up?"
"My dad fell out of the tree house, broke his leg, and had a mild heart attack. I gotta go."
"Go? Where?"
"Where do you think? Home!"
"Do you want me to go with you?" I asked.
Heath was rummaging around in her purse. She shook her head. "You've got to finish packing for the tour," she sighed. "No, it's okay. I just...I just have to see with my own eyes that he's okay."
"But the invitations..."
She looked up impatiently. "Just get the ones you like. I don't care."
Her keys jingled as she swooped in and kissed the cheek she had just slapped.
"We need to talk. Later, right? Even if it's via Skype."
I licked my lips. "Right," I repeated.
With that, Heather was off. The phone was back to her ear and she was quickly reserving a spot on the next flight out. I turned back towards the stationery store.
Maybe it was a good thing she had gotten that call. I had almost told her about Brian and the letter. If I had, something told me she wouldn't have married me. That wouldn't have been so bad (I guess) except I didn't know where Lauren was to tell her that Heather wasn't pregnant. She had fallen off the face of the Earth.
And I didn't want to be left completely alone. The thought scared me.
Heather
"DADDY!"
I couldn't help myself. I teared up at the sight of my dad, my hero, in the hospital bed, his leg casted and suspended with a pulley. He held out an arm as I rushed at him, burying my face in his chest. I began to cry.
"Sug, I'm okay," he whisperered. I grabbed the sheet and balled it up.
"Chris is an idiot," I hiccuped. I pressed my chest against his shoulder. Daddy tugged my hair just like he always did. It made me feel better. Slightly.
"He didn't push me out of the tree. It was an accident."
I looked up into his eyes (my eyes) and sniffled. "You had a heart attack."
My daddy smiled. "Wouldn't you if you toppled out of a tree?"
I laughed weakly. "You can't leave me."
"I don't plan on it," he said. Then it was his turn to tear up. "But..."
My pulse spiked. "But?"
"I'm going to be in this cast three months."
It took me a full minute to realize what that meant. We both studied the white plaster housing his mangled leg. My lips puckered. Then it dawned on me. I gasped.
"Daddy--"
"Sweetheart," his voice cracked. "I'm not gonna be able to walk you down the aisle."
"NO! You have to. We'll postpone the wedding. We'll--"
"You're not postponing the wedding," he said firmly. His warm hand covered my own. He blinked back his own emotion in an attempt to calm me down. "I'll still be there. Front and center. I just can't do the walk."
I was having trouble breathing. It felt like an elephant was sitting on my chest. "But I can't walk alone. I'll pass out. Ever since I was a little girl I've dreamed--"
"I...er, I could walk ya."
My head snapped up. I looked over at the doorway, not completely shocked that he had such good (bad?) timing. Sure enough, Brian hovered there, twisting his baseball cap in his hands.
"Hi Heath," he whispered.
Absence had only made my heart grow fonder. I stood up, unable to tear my eyes away from him. I suddenly forgot what he had even said to get my attention. The peach fuzz on his face and his sparkling eyes were all I wanted.
All I ever wanted.
"Hi," I whispered back.
"Should I leave you two alone?" dad quipped.
"Maybe this is a bad time," Bri drawled. Dad waved his hand.
"Don't be stupid, son. Come on in. Heather just got here..."
"And I think she could use the company."
Brian
Chris and I had gotten Mr. Johnson to the hospital and then snuck off while they set his leg to go get food. Chris had to go home and I’d somehow gotten roped into waiting around at the hospital with Mr. J while I was waiting for Heather to get there from California. I’d slipped out for coffee from the coffee vending machine - Starbucks it is not - and returned to find her in tears, crying because Mr. J had just let her in on the fact that the cast was going to be staying for three months. That he wasn’t going to be able to walk her down the aisle.
Down the aisle… down the aisle to Nick’s waiting arms… down the aisle to holy matrimony.
“I can’t walk alone. I’ll pass out. Ever since I was a little girl I’ve dreamed…” And had she ever. I could still remember her getting mad because Chris and I had run through her Barbie doll’s wedding in the backyard…
“It’s a stupid doll,” Chris would say as she started crying, “Its wedding can’t be ruined, it’s a fake wedding.”
Heather would swipe the tear from her cheek and pout at him and stammer, “It’s not fake. We’re on the coast of Italy and Daddy’s walking Barbie down the aisle to – to –“
“To Briaaaan,” Chris would sing-song, “Heather and Brian sitting in a tree…”
“Hey don’t get me in on this!” I’d drawl out.
Heather would look at me with big gooey wet eyes.
“K-I-S-S-I-N-G…”
“I, er, could walk you.” Heather’s eyes landed on my face. I licked my lips. “Hi,” I said quietly.
“Hi,” she said back.
“Should I leave you two alone?” Mr. J asked from his spot on the mattress. Heather turned pink and turned back to her dad.
“Maybe this is a bad time,” I replied.
“Don’t be stupid son. Heather just got here, and I think she could use the company.” He smiled.
Chris’ song from so long ago was echoing in my head still. First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes Heather pushing a baby carriage…
I sat down slowly in a chair on the opposite side of Mr. J from Heather and pulled my Kentucky Wildcats hat onto my head. I leaned back in the chair and put my palms on my knees. I looked between Mr. J and Heather. Heather was staring at him with those same gooey eyes I’d just been thinking about. She laid a hand on his hand. “I’ll post pone the wedding, Daddy,” she said, “You have to walk me down the aisle.”
Oh yeah. That’s right too. That’s what had started this all.
Mr. Johnson shook his head, “Sugar,” he said, lifting his hand and lacing his fingers between Heather’s. “Look, sweetie, it’s not a secret… you- you need to marry Nick… before…” his eyes traveled to her stomach.
Heather gasped. She looked at me. “Is there anybody you guys didn’t tell?” she demanded. She stood up.
“I didn’t tell any –“
“I’m NOT pregnant!” she said, “Look. LOOK at me.” She lifted her shirt up. Her belly button showed. I felt hypnotized. “This is not the stomach of a pregnant woman!” she said. “I would’ve called you and momma first thing if I was pregnant.” Heather shook her head, “Daddy, Nick doesn’t want kids, okay? I’ll probably never be pregnant.”
“WHAT?” Mr. Johnson and I had both exploded at the same time. Heather sat down. I was flabbergasted. “Never be pregnant?” Mr. Johnson’s eyes grew watery, “No little sugars?”
“You’ve always wanted a baby, Heath,” I stammered.
She looked at me and said evenly, “Nick doesn’t want kids, so we’re not going to have kids.”
“Well that’s not fair…”
Heather stood up, red in the face. “Life isn’t fair. I mean all I wanted is a small little wedding on a beach with my stupid teal sneakers and a baby and maybe a dog. A Labrador retriever.” Tears were welling in her eyes. “All I wanted was my daddy to walk me down the aisle into the waiting arms of –“ her voice caught in her throat, “And now I can’t have any of that.”
“Aw kiddo, I’m sorry,” I stood up, too, and started the motion of going over to hug her, but she shook her head.
“Excuse me a minute,” she gasped, and she ducked out the door.
I stood there, dumbfounded.
“What the hell are you waiting for?” Mr. Johnson asked, looking up at me. “Go be Prince Charming.”
I glanced at him, and muttered, “Prince Charming? Please… I’m barely even one of the seven dwarves.”
