Maggie lifted the hem of her skirt and left the dusty path, stepping toward the crabapple trees decked out with lanterns. Finished having her hair and makeup done, she’d gone to the arena to find that Emmie had the ceremony space well in hand, things progressing smoothly there. She decided to check in with Holly and the lighting crew.
Holly, puffy coat over her red bridesmaid dress, watched several hangarounds place the lanterns on branches. “A little to the left, I think. We don’t want them too close together. There.”
Maggie drew up beside her. “How’s it going?”
“Good.” Holly sounded a little out of breath with nerves, but that was usual. What was a little out of character, though, was the way she looked over, gaze almost assessing. “How are you?”
Maggie blinked, surprised. “I’m fine.”
“I don’t know if anyone ever gets mother-of-the-groom jitters, but I wanted to ask. Make sure, you know.” Sweet smile. “In case you needed anything.”
“Well…no, I’m fine,” Maggie repeated, not sure what to think. “But thanks for asking.”
“You’re very proud of Aidan, I know.”
She smiled, knowingexactlywhat to think ofthat. “Very.”
Seeing that all was well with the lanterns, she excused herself and stepped into the tent where the reception would take place. Lots of tables, lots of liquor, beer and wine ready behind the makeshift bar. Ratchet was going to DJ, and he had a station set up at the far end. She, Mina and Ava had set up this area earlier, the little personal touches the rental company hadn’t provided: centerpieces, potted ferns for ambiance, the photos lined up on the waiting buffet tables. They caught her eye now, the old family pictures in their silver frames, and she moved across the grass floor to get to them.
She’d set them out herself, so the images were no surprise…but for some reason, it felt like she was seeing them for the first time.
Aidan at sixteen, with his first bike, smiling like a loon. Aidan at eighteen, a forced Christmas photo in front of the tree with Ava, him looking too cool and sullen for the holiday. Aidan at eight, standing beside an awkward-looking Ghost at the park.
She remembered that day vividly; it unfolded in her mind, creases still sharp, colors still bright. One of their first outings as a threesome, with little skinny, curly-headed Aidan in tow. Maggie had been the one to suggest the park; they’d stopped on the way and bought a plastic whiffle bat and ball. The grass had been springy underfoot; it had smelled damp and green as Maggie slid across it, rolling over twice, laughing, before Ghost declared her out and now relegated to pitching duty.
Maggie recalled with perfect clarity the transformation in Aidan that day, from solemn and uncertain to beaming and laughing. She’d loved Ghost already – for all his lack of charm – but that was the day she’d fallen in love with his precious little boy, the bright notes of his laughter, his bubbling excitement over the game. She’d urged father and son to stand together, so she could snap a photo. She remembered Ghost as he appeared now in the eight-by-ten in her hands: uncertain of his effect on the boy, awkward in the way he dropped a hand on Aidan’s shoulder. A man who had no idea how to be a good father. And Aidan, a child without a clue how to teach his old man the ropes of tenderness and patience.
She didn’t realize there were tears in her eyes until she was forced to dab at them. She set the frame back on the table, pulling in a deep breath. Ava was her baby, her blood, the child she’d carried in her womb and nursed at her breast. But Ava had been strong from the first, always so sure of herself. Aidan had been the one who needed her most.
“It doesn’t seem real, does it?” a voice said behind her, and she turned, startled, to find Sam’s mother, Helen.
Helen was dressed in a modest champagne-colored dress with matching jacket, a pea coat over it for warmth. Mina had done her hair in a conservative, tasteful style. Her eyes looked red and watery already.
She took a deep breath, her smile trembling, narrow shoulders lifting. “She’s been this grown up, responsible, contributing adult for so long now, but, for some reason, I woke up this morning and it didn’t seem like my little girl could possibly be old enough to get married.”
Maggie nodded. “I know the feeling. Well – I felt it with Ava. With Aidan? He hasn’t been all that grown up, responsible, or capable of contributing for very long.” She chuckled. “Not to freak you out or anything.”
Helen shook her head. “I’m not worried about that. Aidan loves Sam, and a man can do great things when he’s motivated by love.”
Maggie grinned. “I couldn’t have said it better myself.”
~*~
He could smoke them, and he always made a manly show of it, but Aidan didn’t like cigars. He took a hard puff on the one in his mouth and was grateful to exhale.
Beside him at the deck rail, Mercy seemed to be enjoying each drag, holding it for long moments. “You nervous?”
“Nah.” Which wasn’t a total lie. “At least, not about today.”
Mercy made a knowing sound in his throat. “The wedding’s just a party. It’s being a husband every day that’s the hard part.”
“Yeah. Were you nervous?”
“No.”
Aidan rolled his eyes. “That makes me feel better.”
“You want me to lie?” Mercy’s black brows jumped, grin teasing at one corner of his mouth. Growing more serious: “There wasn’t anything I wanted more in the world than Ava. Lots of shit makes me nervous, but not being married.”
