CYD RACED DOWN I-270 East with the moon roof open and every window down in her Volvo, the breeze whipping cool and strong. She thought maybe it would help. Maybe she would get lost in the rush of the wind and the stars of the night and forget the nightmare of today, for a little while. But the scene played again and again in her head, and with each remembrance her heart ached for Dana.
Her iPhone played its tune, startling her out of her thoughts. She grabbed it from the center console, hoping it was Dana so she could find out how she was doing.
“Everybody’s lined up and about to walk in,” Stephanie said. “I can’t believe you’re not here yet.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I’m getting ready to exit now.” Cyd talked loudly over the wind and noise of the highway. “You got my message, right?”
“Yeah, but I still don’t understand what’s going on. Were you with Dana? Why isn’t she here either?”
“Are Mackenzie and Mark there?”
“They got here fifteen minutes ago, but Trish brought them. Aren’t Dana and Scott coming to the rehearsal dinner?”
“No. Wish I could explain, Steph, but I can’t. Anyway, sounds like I haven’t missed too much. Good thing I’m in the back of the line.”
Stephanie clucked her tongue. “You haven’t missed a thing. Cassandra’s gettin’ on my nerves, acting like she’s running the show, telling me the bride’s not supposed to participate, just sit up front and watch. I know I’m not participating directly, but she can’t stop me from standing in the back and making sure things are the way I want. What’s up with her?”
Cyd and Cassandra had known each other from the time Cassandra joined the church as a single eight years ago. She’d since gotten married, and after the birth of her first child left the event-planning business she worked for. Now she volunteered part-time at the church, helping to organize the weddings held there.
Because Stephanie didn’t have a coordinator, Cassandra had been involved from the beginning, guiding her as to what she needed to do and when, as a favor to Cyd. After a couple weeks’ involvement, Cassandra confessed she was glad Stephanie preferred to handle most of the planning details herself. “She’s a piece of work,” Cassandra had said. “I don’t know if the baby or I could handle the stress if this were a full-time assignment.”
Cassandra was two weeks from her due date. Cyd hoped the stress from the rehearsal wouldn’t send her into an early labor.
“Steph, Cassandra has a lot of experience with weddings. Relax and trust her direction.”
“Hmph.”
Cyd could hear her mother telling Stephanie the pastor was ready to get started.
“Tell Cassandra to go ahead,” Stephanie told her, “but if it doesn’t look right, we’re starting over.”
“Everything will work out fine, Steph.” Cyd moved a few windblown hairs out of her face. “I’ll be there in about ten minutes.”
“All right,” Stephanie sighed.
Cyd ended the call and held the phone, struck by how small the drama with Stephanie and the wedding had become. She remembered her mind-set in the shower, the dread she’d felt about the weekend. Her eyebrows furrowed. Was that this morning? It seemed so far removed from where she sat now. She felt no dread at all about the rehearsal, was glad to have something to occupy her time. If she had had nothing to do tonight, she would have worried herself to death about Dana.
She exited at New Florissant Road and a couple minutes later veered into the parking lot of Living Word Community Church. She’d been a member of the church since its early days. Her family moved to St. Louis when she was in seventh grade and Stephanie was just a baby, because her father had taken a position on the faculty at Wash U. As they acclimated to the area, Bruce and Claudia Sanders had sought a Bible-teaching church and found young Dr. Mason Lyles, a black man three years out of seminary with a passion for preaching the unadulterated Word of God. And when they met Dana and her family—also new to St. Louis—and learned they were Christians, they got them excited about the church too.
The ministry was small at the time, about forty members meeting in a high school, yet it was diverse from the beginning. Pastor Lyles’s prayer was that Living Word would be a true picture of the body of Christ, welcoming people from all nations. His personality certainly helped. He had a winsome delivery, naturally lively and hip, but earnest and forceful, always challenging, always zealous in his love for truth and seeing it at work in the lives of others. That zeal drew folk, who would often testify later that they didn’t understand the whole counsel of the Bible until they came to Living Word.
The church had outgrown three structures since its inception, and five years ago built a complex of three buildings: one for the main sanctuary, adult education, and administrative offices; one for children’s and youth ministry; and the third dedicated to the pastor’s burgeoning national ministry of written Bible studies with accompanying DVDs.
Cyd pulled into a spot near the main entrance, raised her windows, closed the moon roof, and hopped out. She loved the view of this building at night. The two-story glassed entrance that flooded the space with natural light during the day had the opposite effect at night, as the lighting inside shone like a beacon to the outside world.
Stepping quickly up a cascade of steps, past a courtyard that connected the main building to the youth building, she slid lip gloss across her lips, unclipped a wide, crystal-adorned barrette, smoothed her hair with her fingers, and clipped it back on. She wore a two-piece shimmering metallic brocade suit with a portrait-collar jacket and sequined tie belt. The slim skirt hit her at the knee, and the soft metallic sling backs had a much higher heel than she was used to. It had been a long while since she’d had a reason to dress up like this.
Inside, she walked through the spacious common area where people milled about between services and after church. There wasn’t a soul in sight now, but when she made her way around the bend of the wide hallway, she saw Stephanie and Cassandra conferencing outside the sanctuary doors.
Cyd fixed immediately on what Stephanie was wearing, a platinum baby-doll dress with a rhinestone empire waist, shoulder straps that crisscrossed on a bare back, and a plunging V in the back and front. It had been the subject of much discussion in the store dressing room.
Stephanie and Cyd were both tall and shapely like their mother. Claudia had always extolled modesty, but she could only make Stephanie toe the line while her daughter lived at home. When she went out on her own, her tops got tighter, necklines dipped lower, and skirts, shorts, and dresses climbed higher.
Talking did no good, so Cyd relegated the clothing issue to the same sphere she’d sent Stephanie’s romantic entanglements—prayer. But with the wedding, she knew she’d have to deal with it head-on, especially since Stephanie would be choosing what she would wear as well. To her surprise, though, they didn’t clash at all over the bridesmaids’ attire. In one day, Stephanie, Cyd, and three of the attendants visited two boutiques and tried on several dresses. One was a clear favorite of Cyd’s, in style and color, and she was shocked when Stephanie and the others declared it their favorite as well.
The wedding gown was an altogether different story, starting with the odyssey that took them from St. Louis to Chicago and back to St. Louis. Cyd had a headache from the first boutique as Stephanie tried on anything and everything that showed more skin than average, asking repeatedly, “Isn’t this gorgeous?” Cyd treated the question as rhetorical and got away with a noncommittal smile the first couple of times, until Stephanie began asking, “What do you think?”
She tried to be positive, pointing out the beauty and intricacy of the embroidery on one, the luxuriousness of the fabric on another, hoping Stephanie wouldn’t press for her actual opinion until she had narrowed down her choices, at which time, hopefully, she would have gotten these out of her system and graduated to a spectrum of styles that wouldn’t give the pastor apoplexy. But by the time she had done the two-city circuit of boutiques and indulged Cyd by trying on a few “traditional” gowns, the one she’d zeroed in on was still up there in apoplectic range.
Playfully labeled “slightly sinful” by the bridal consultant, it was a sultry silk-charmeuse halter gown that skimmed the sides of her breasts and plunged low in the back, so low that the woman advised Stephanie as to the type of undergarment she would have to purchase, sold in the boutique, of course, and the magic the alterations person would perform to keep it hidden.
“I love this one.” Stephanie had admired herself on the raised platform with mirrors all around.
“It’s daring, that’s for sure,” the bridal consultant said, “but you seem to have the personality to pull it off. You’ve certainly got the body.”
“Don’t you think it’s me, Cyd?” Stephanie asked, eyes glued to the mirror.
Cyd had tried more than once to exchange places with their mother, but Momma graciously bowed out from the beginning, citing a history of clothing battles and assuring them she could be much more supportive from afar.
Cyd knew patience would be key. “It’s definitely you,” she said.
Stephanie posed and turned and tossed her head over her shoulder, viewing herself from different angles. “I think it’s perfect.”
Cyd waited.
The consultant beamed. “You’ll look fabulous.”
“What do you think, Cyd?” Stephanie asked. “Is this the one?”
Cyd sat up in her chair, crossed her legs, and tossed her head aside, as if considering. “Well, you’ll be in Living Word, at the front of the sanctuary, in front of the pastor, your back to Momma and Daddy, Ma Marge, aunts, and other family, not to mention our church family.” She paused and added, “And you’ll be standing before God, of course—”
The consultant smoothed her dress and tried to smile.
Cyd continued, “Do you think this is the one?”
Stephanie blew out a sigh and looked at herself in the mirror again. “We should have planned to get married on an island, just the two of us and some rent-a-preacher, away from all y’all folk.” She sighed again. “Let me try on the other one I liked over there.”
The consultant helped her out of the dress as Cyd sat back, relieved. Her mother would have killed her if Stephanie had purchased it, and with their mother’s credit card, no less.
But now here she was, in another dress with “issues.” They had had a similar conversation in the dressing room over this one, and Stephanie admitted it “probably” wasn’t suited to a wedding rehearsal and dinner, but she loved it so much she’d get it for the honeymoon. Cyd couldn’t believe she had actually put this thing on tonight. She was glad she was late. She could only imagine the buzz when Stephanie strolled in.
“How’s the rehearsal going?” Cyd asked, determined not to give her sister the “momma look,” as Stephanie called it.
Cassandra looked wearily at her. “It’s not going,” she said. “Half of the bridesmaids and groomsmen got down the aisle, and Stephanie called them back.”
“Why?”
“Because the way she had them walking in was just dumb,” Stephanie said. “The groomsman would walk halfway down the aisle, stop, and hold out his arm, waiting for the bridesmaid to walk down the aisle and take it.” Stephanie took a few steps to act it out as she explained, then stuck out her arm. “It looked silly. Just let them walk down the aisle together.”
“And I said that was fine,” Cassandra said.
“Okay . . .” Cyd said, waiting to hear why action hadn’t resumed.
“Then Stephanie wanted to talk about how you and the best man would walk in.”
“I thought the best man stood up front with the groom,” Cyd said.
Cassandra rested a hand on her butterball tummy and sighed with a smile. “Traditionally. But Stephanie wants to mix things up.
She’s even talking about walking down the aisle with Lindell instead of your dad.”
Now Cyd couldn’t help giving Stephanie the momma look. “If you wanted to be unconventional, you should have thought it through long before now,” she said. “You’ve got people waiting.”
Stephanie tossed her hand. “They’ll be fine. And anyway, I just decided. I do want Daddy to give me away, even though it’s old-fashioned and ridiculous since Lindell and I are already . . . you know. But I like the idea of you and the best man walking down the aisle together. Let’s do something different.”
“Sounds fine.” Cyd moved toward the sanctuary doors, but her mother pushed one of them open before Cyd could pull it.
Claudia looked stunning in a cornflower blue long silk skirt with a matching beaded crocheted sweater. “Cyd, good, you’re here,” she said. “I was just coming to see what the holdup was about.”
Cyd hugged her mother. “It’s been resolved. We were just coming in.”
Claudia leaned back to get a good look at her. “And everything’s okay with you? Stephanie said there was an emergency.”
“I’m fine.”
Stephanie and Cassandra walked past them and through the door, marshaling the wedding party back into place.
Claudia followed Stephanie with her eyes, then grabbed Cyd’s arm and stepped farther out, letting the door close. “Did you see that dress your sister’s wearing?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“I thought she was wearing the knee-length black number. It looked beautiful on her.”
“Thought so too.”
Claudia looked exasperated. “I can hardly face the pastor or anyone else. What must Lindell’s mother think of her? Why would she do this?”
Cyd shrugged. “Same reason she does everything else. All she cares about is herself.”
The door opened, and Cassandra peeped her head out. “We need the mothers in line.”
Claudia and Cyd walked through the door. “I really want this to be a memorable weekend for Stephanie and Lindell,” Claudia whispered, “and not because she caused a stir with her cleavage.”
Cyd didn’t respond. She was following the pastor as he strode with purpose through the bridal party, toward Stephanie in the very back, holding something folded in his hand.
Dr. Lyles was in his late fifties now, but he hadn’t lost any fervor for his ministry of teaching and preaching. The church was so large that he rarely conducted wedding ceremonies anymore, delegating the task to his associate pastors. But he’d agreed at once when Cyd’s father, Bruce, approached him. Dr. Lyles said he would have it no other way.
Cyd watched as he reached Stephanie, spoke into her ear, gave her a hug, and unfolded a gorgeous silver stole, draping it around her shoulders. He headed back to the front.
Cyd and Claudia made a beeline for her. “What happened?” Claudia asked.
Stephanie looked as if she was still trying to understand it. “Pastor said after I walked in, he called Sister Gloria to see if she had anything for me to cover up with. He said he’d known me all my life and loved me like a daughter, and I was too precious to God to wear something like this.” Stephanie fingered the ends of the stole, which fell well below her chest.
Gloria, Pastor Lyles’s wife, had the perfect answer.
“When Sister Gloria heard what color I was wearing, she said God must have meant for me to have this. She said I could keep it.”
Claudia sneaked a glance at Cyd, and Cyd knew they were thinking the same thing. She and her mother had often emphasized Stephanie’s worth to God when discussing her choices, but never with this effect. Stephanie was visibly overcome.
“This is beautiful.” Claudia’s hand skimmed the material. “Wait till I see Gloria. She’s always blessing somebody.”
“Mrs. Sanders,” Cassandra called, “we need you at the front of the line.”
Claudia scurried away, and Cyd moved down the line, hugging seven bridesmaids—two cousins, two college friends of Stephanie’s, two high school buddies, and—
“Hi—you must be Kelli. I’m Stephanie’s sister, Cyd.” Cyd smiled and reached for a hug.
Lindell’s younger sister, a grad student at the University of Texas at Austin, had flown in just today. Tall enough to claim the last bridesmaid’s spot before Cyd and attractive, she had at least two groomsmen vying for her attention.
Kelli returned the hug and greeting, and Cyd turned to find her place in line—when a body bear-hugged her from behind, causing her to stumble. She pivoted and looked down at a semi-toothless grin.
“Hi, Aunt Cyd!”
“Hi, Mark!”
Mackenzie was with him, grinning just as big, and Cyd gave them both a big hug. Mackenzie wore a pretty floral-patterned dress, and Mark had on dress pants and a long-sleeved collared shirt.
“You two look so cute!”
Mark made a face. “Cute?”
“Oh.” Cyd tried not to laugh. “Handsome to you, sir.”
“He’s not a sir.” Mackenzie nudged him. “And Mom told you to stop being so touchy about people calling you cute.”
“All right, all right.” Cyd settled them in their places directly behind her just as her father made his way toward her. Just seeing him stabilized her heart somewhat. He always had that effect on her—a strong, calming, everything-will-be-okay effect.
“Hi, Daddy,” she said, hugging him close.
“Hey, sweetheart.” Tall and trim, Bruce Sanders fixed her with a stare. “I heard something about an emergency. What happened?”
“Oh, nothing you need to worry about,” Cyd answered in a sing-songy voice. And she knew he would worry. He loved Scott and Dana.
Bruce looked skeptical, but Cyd eased to her place in line before he could ask more questions.
Cyd noticed Cassandra speaking with a guy up front, who began walking toward the back using a side aisle. Had to be Lindell’s brother. She’d never met him, and her eyes kept skittering in his direction because she’d had no idea how utterly good-looking he was. Lindell was handsome enough, if you caught him at the right angle—hair thinning already at the top, maybe taller than Stephanie in bare feet, and chubby. But his brother had to be at least six foot two with a strong, athletic physique, obvious even in his blue pinstripe tailored suit.
He walked right up to Cyd. “I don’t believe we’ve met,” he said, “but given the resemblance, you must be Stephanie’s sister. You are a family of good-looking women.”
“Thank you.” She held out her hand. “I’m Cyd Sanders.”
“Cedric London,” he said, “and since we’re about to be family, I think we can forgo the handshake.”
He pulled Cyd into a hug, and the faintness of his cologne mingled with his handsome looks caused her skin to tingle.
Stephanie headed their way the moment she saw. “I see you met my sister,” she said. Angling her thumb at Cedric, she continued, “I love him, but you’d better watch out, Cyd. He’s a real ladies’ man.”
Cyd turned arched eyebrows on him.
Cedric pleaded with his accuser. “Aww, Steph, I can’t believe you said that.”
“Uh, yeah, I did.” Stephanie looked at Cyd. “You know I know the deal, right? He’s forty-two and a big-time bachelor. Just letting you know, ’cause he will try to run some game.” She graced Cedric with a smile. “Gotta look out for my big sister. Not that she’d fall for it anyway. She’s too smart for that.”
With the mothers seated, the piano struck up the bridal party song and Stephanie took a seat in a middle pew to observe the rest of the procession.
Cyd and Cedric moved into line formation as the bridesmaids and groomsmen began the slow march up the aisle.
Cedric leaned over to Cyd and whispered, “So you’re smart, huh? What do you do?”
Their eyes met briefly. “I’m a professor at Washington University.”
“For real? Dr. Sanders?”
Cyd nodded, staring ahead.
He nodded, too, in approval. “Smart, sexy, and single.” He lowered his head to hers. “You are single, right?” He looked around at the smattering of people in the pews who had accompanied bridal party members to the rehearsal. “No fiancé out there? Boyfriend?”
She took his arm as they waited for his sister to finish her walk down the aisle. When they got the nod from Cassandra, they started down.
Cyd spoke under her breath. “I don’t have anyone out there,” she said, “but looks like you do.” She tipped her head toward a woman sitting on the end of an aisle, arms crossed, eyes leveled on the two of them. Amused, Cyd gazed ahead, keeping a steady pace. “Fiancée? Girlfriend?”
Before he could answer, if he even intended to answer, Cyd moved left and took her position in front of the first bridesmaid. She couldn’t help but look at the woman, who was looking at Cedric . . . who was looking at Cyd. When their eyes connected, her stomach dipped . . . and she bounced her eyes away from him.
The bridal party practiced the recessional and, with a collective groan, ambled to their original places when Stephanie announced she needed one more run-through to be sure she liked it.
Cedric stopped and said a few words to Kelli, and Cyd checked on the kids. “How are you two holding up?”
“Fine,” Mark and Mackenzie chorused, and got back to the riddle game they’d been playing with one of the bridesmaids. There’d been no shortage of people looking after them, but Cyd hung beside them anyway, for cover. They didn’t flirt. Or give her goose bumps.
The line inched up and Cedric sidled up to her, causing the two to pair off again. “You don’t go to this church, do you?”
Cyd glanced at him. “Ever since I was a teenager.”
“Really?” Cedric’s head drew back in surprise. His eyes bored into her more intently. “Why haven’t I seen you? I go to the eleven thirty service.”
“That’s why. I go to the nine o’clock.”
“Huh.” He nodded to himself. “I may have to get out of bed a little earlier.” His hand brushed hers as he pointed between them. “Being paired up like this . . . kind of crazy, isn’t it? Both of us single, the older siblings—mind if I ask how old you are?”
Cyd never minded sharing her age. “Thirty-nine.”
His eyes grew big. “No way. And single? Good as you look? Are you divorced?”
“Never married.”
“Kids?”
“No.”
“Wow.”
The line moved steadily forward, and she was thankful for the distraction. It was becoming apparent that she couldn’t, by sheer will, force her insides to quit the stupid dips and twirls when he looked at her. Or talked to her. Or stood too close.
“So when’s the big day?” he was saying. “When do you turn forty?”
“Tomorrow.”
His eyes grew big again. “Seriously? What are you doing to celebrate? I hope you have something planned besides this wedding.”
Cyd shrugged. “Not really.”
With Phyllis leaving town, the three friends had made plans to celebrate the following weekend. But after today, she doubted Dana would be in the mood anytime soon.
“Oh, that’s crazy.” A glimmer entered his gaze. “I can fix that.
Let me take you out after the reception. I’ll plan a special evening in celebration of you.”
Dip. As they began their walk down the aisle, she leaned her head over. “I’m thinking someone might have a problem with that, and I don’t think it was ever established—fiancée or girlfriend?”
“I knew I shouldn’t have brought her,” he muttered under his breath. “She kept hassling me about it, and now she thinks she’s coming to the wedding. If I had known you’d be here . . .”
Focusing on the woman helped Cyd to steel herself on the inside. “Oh, it’s no problem. My little sister warned me, remember? And if she says I need to stay away from some man, I’d better listen.” Cyd let her arm drop from his as she moved away and into position at the front.
She was glad Cedric was occupied at the dinner, which was hosted by both families in a private room at a downtown restaurant. As he mingled, took trips to the bar, and seated himself for the meal, his woman—pretty, tall, and slender in a short, revealing dress—was pasted at his side, grabbing his hand or arm if Cyd came near.
Cyd ignored them both and enjoyed family from out of town and the after-dinner presentations, proud of the way Stephanie and Lindell honored their parents and showed appreciation for bridal party members. She did cringe, though, when Lindell shared the story of how they met.
“I had only recently returned to St. Louis,” he said, “after my residency in Ohio. I’d been going to Living Word for six months and kept noticing Stephanie. It’s hard to miss her, beautiful as she is, but she never noticed me, which was kind of good, I guess. She was there to worship, not to pick up men.” He looked with admiration at his fiancée.
“Then the church held a wellness clinic one Saturday and asked doctors and nurses to volunteer their services, and there was Stephanie, giving her time, signing people in and directing them to the help they needed. By the end of the clinic, I had a date. The rest, as they say, is history. I’m thankful she agreed to marry me.”
They kissed, and the crowd roared with applause, but Cyd knew the history a little differently. Stephanie had declared from a young age that she was going to be well off, and she was going to marry a doctor or lawyer to make it happen. When the church advertised that clinic, Stephanie, who never volunteered for anything, told Cyd she’d find herself a doctor there. Late that evening, she called with her report.
“I told you I’d meet somebody,” she said. “And we’ve already gone out. Can you believe he’s been going to the eleven thirty service? Not surprised I never noticed him. He’s not really my type, a little overweight and kind of nerdy. But he’s a doctor, and, girl, he’s head over heels already, from a good-bye kiss. I decided to play hard-to-get and make him wait.”
“And what about Warren, Stephanie?” Cyd asked. “You’ve been seeing him for two years, and he loves you. You’re playing with people’s lives.”
“Warren is sweet, but he doesn’t make enough money.”
“Then cut him loose so he can find somebody who appreciates him,” Cyd said.
“Why would I do that? Lindell might not work out, so I’ve got to keep my options open. And anyway, Warren’s talking about getting his MBA. That could make all the difference.”
After Lindell proposed, Stephanie said she ended things with Warren. Cyd could only hope.
People were slow to leave when dinner ended, finishing last bits of conversation, double-checking the schedule for tomorrow. Cyd said her good-byes and headed for the exit, Dana on her mind.
The groomsmen had gathered near the door to the private room, and Cyd watched as Cedric’s girlfriend headed out from among them and made her way toward the restroom. Cyd threaded her way through the guys, dispensing another round of good-byes . . . and felt fingers tugging her to a stop. She turned, her hand in Cedric’s, as he pulled her toward him, enfolding her in a hug. She left her arms at her side as he whispered in her ear, “See you tomorrow.”
She backed out of his embrace. “Good night, Cedric.”
Cyd fumed all the way out of the restaurant. He had a lot of nerve, flirting the minute his girlfriend left his side. She hated men like that, always looking for the next conquest, plotting and scheming, leaving a trail of broken hearts. A male version of Stephanie, but ten times worse.
Her mental rant persisted all the way to her car and halfway home . . . until somewhere along Highway 40 that voice pushed through.
“See you tomorrow.”
Her stomach dipped again. Suddenly, the wedding day/birthday had taken on a whole new dimension.