Alexis placed a hand on her sister’s arm. “Understanding Russ may prove to be a full-time job, Velma. He’s tough and sometimes he seems cynical, but dig deeper. He’s loving, caring and if he tells you he’ll do something, he does it.”
“I believe that, but—”
In the act of inspecting the long white leather gloves she planned to wear, Alexis stopped, threw them on the bed and stared at her older sister. “I want you to listen to me. No buts. Russ is straight. What you see is exactly what you get. Don’t bother to look for hidden meanings either in his words or his actions. There won’t be any. What you see is exactly what you get.”
“Not many people are like that. I guess he’s too ornery to be dishonest.”
“No,” Alexis said. “Russ is too self-assured to lie or to be devious. Pay attention to him if you want him, otherwise forget it. When it comes to Russ, those notions about how to get a man aren’t worth the mental energy required to remember them.”
“I know he’s special,” Velma said. She finished buttoning the dress, checked its hem and train. Her happiness for her sister was boundless, but she couldn’t help wishing for Alexis’s beauty, her flawless figure and her self-confidence.
“I’ve been a bridesmaid half a dozen times,” Velma said, “each of which was increasingly painful for me. This is the last time I’m doing it. It hurts too badly.”
“Aunt Velma, has Grant come yet?” Tara asked of Grant Roundtree, her friend and the son of Adam Roundtree and Melissa Grant-Roundtree.
“I didn’t see him, but don’t worry—it’s a bit too early for the Roundtrees.”
“My mummy said he’s the ring bearer. Can Mr. Telford and my mummy get married if Grant doesn’t bring the rings?”
“He’ll be there,” Alexis said. “Anyway, we can get married without rings, although I wouldn’t like to. But relax. Grant will be here on time.”
“Yes, ma’am. You already told me to relax four times. How do I do it?”
“Excuse me for a few minutes,” Velma said, and made her way down the corridor toward the stairs.
“Well, now don’t you look real special?” Henry said as he met her near the bottom of the stairs.
“Thanks, Henry. What about you? You look great. With that tux on, you could snare a princess.”
“Yeah? If I believed you, I’d get out of this monkey suit fast as I could.”
“Did…er…re—” Velma began tentatively, so that Henry wouldn’t think her question important.
He second guessed her anyway. “The boys ate breakfast in town this morning. Drake and Russ had to keep a lid on Tel. Never saw anybody so shook up about getting married as Alexis and Tel.” With an expression of reverence, he glanced toward the ceiling, then smiled, a rarity for him. “They’re meant for each other sure as my name is Henry Wooten.”
Velma started up the stairs. “What are you going up there for?” he asked her. “Ain’t gonna be nobody up there but you. Stop worrying about him. Can’t nobody second-guess Russ.”
“I’m not worrying about him.”
“You are so, and he won’t appreciate it. You listen to what I say. You hear?”
First Alexis and now Henry lectured her on how to deal with Russ. Life didn’t revolve around that man; not so far, anyway. “Thanks, Henry. I’ll…uh…see you later.”
Inside her room, she closed the door and, for a minute, had an urge to lock it. Fighting back moroseness, she admonished herself sharply.
It’s her day, so put a smile on your face and grin if it kills you. For years, you’ve gone alone to the movies, theaters and concerts. You’re used to it, girl, used to having no one to hold you when you hurt, no one to love you when you can’t stand being alone. Nothing has changed. Not one damned thing.
No. Everything remained as it had been. Except the joy, the happiness Alexis radiated when she mentioned Telford’s name. She wanted that joy, that happiness, that knowledge that she belonged to a man who belonged to her.
“I gotta snap out of this,” she told herself as she got a small lavender-colored handkerchief and folded it into the palm of her left hand. She dabbed some Hermès perfume behind her ears and at her wrists, inhaled its elegant scent and went back to Alexis and Tara. She entered the room as Alexis picked up the telephone receiver.
“Hello. Alexis speaking.”
“Hello, sweetheart. Russ, Drake and I are leaving for the church. The stretched-out white Lincoln Town Car out front is for you, Velma, Henry and Tara. The Roundtrees will meet us at the church. Can you believe that in an hour and a half you’ll be my wife? Baby, I can’t wait.”
“Me, neither. Drive carefully.”
“Russ is driving, and you know he wouldn’t consider breaking the speed limit.”
Alexis treated him to a deep, throaty laugh, a happy laugh. “I know. Tell him I said he’s carrying precious cargo, so he shouldn’t go beyond sixty.”
“I’ll tell him that, for all the good it’ll do. I love you, woman. See you.”
“And I love you.”
Velma listened to that side of the conversation and couldn’t do one thing about the ache that settled inside of her. An ache that would vanish for all time if she had Russell Harrington and three children who looked just like him.
Henry met them at the front door, handed a bouquet of mauve and pink calla lilies to Velma and a bouquet of white ones to Alexis. “From Tel and Russ. You can figure out who sent what to whom,” he said, and added: “Thank you, Alexis, for the honor of letting me escort you and give you to Tel. You’re my daughter now, and it’ll be the proudest moment of my life.”
An hour and a half later, bells of the Eagle Park Presbyterian Church in Eagle Park, Maryland, began to peal, and Velma stepped behind Alexis, straightened the train of her dress, adjusted Tara’s mauve-pink hat and Grant’s bow tie, kissed her sister’s cheek and headed toward the altar.
Walking up the aisle that was banked on both sides with white calla lilies, she knew her face was devoid of emotion, reflecting neither her happiness for her sister nor the loneliness that was her interminable visitor. She took her place at the altar, made almost surrealistically beautiful and magical with dozens of lighted white candles, white calla lilies and white rosebuds. When she could no longer avoid it, she let her gaze find Russ who, as Telford’s older brother, served as best man. Drake served as groom.
She knew Russ heard her audible gasp, for a slow-moving smile formed around his mouth seconds before he greeted her. Granted it was a solemn occasion, but there was no need to behave as if they were in a morgue. Her composure once more in order, she let the smile that came from her heart light up her face.
To her, Russ stood out among men, tall, tough and handsome, but in that black tuxedo and mauve-colored accessories—the uniform for every male in the wedding party, including Grant—he took her breath away. Although he stood with his brothers, themselves imposing men by any standard, she barely looked at them. And when Russ caught her ogling him and winked at her, she lowered her gaze in embarrassment.
Russ shifted his glance from her face to a spot somewhere below her left elbow. She looked down and realized he wanted her to know that Tara and Grant stood beside her solemnly holding hands. She heard the tune, “Here Comes the Bride,” held her head up and smiled at Telford, for her heart seemed to overflow with joy.
“Who gives this woman to be wed?” the minister asked.