Livonia, Michigan
“Hope I’m not too early, Teri,” Mrs. Warnler called out from the beauty shop doorway. She stamped the slush off her boots and peeled off her snow-crusted red wool parka.
Teri deftly stroked red polish on Mrs. Jensen’s oval-filed nails and replied without glancing up. “Actually, it’ll work out great for me. You’re my last appointment, and if I finish up early I’ll have a chance to go over my notes once more before my final tonight.”
Mrs. Jensen peered out through her wisps of graying bangs at the dark-haired, olive-skinned young manicurist. She raised her thinly penciled eyebrows. What was it with these young girls today? So much studying. Such hard work, and for such a pretty girl. With her jet-black hair, worn simply and to her shoulders, her heart-shaped face beneath a delicate widow’s peak, and those doe-shaped brown eyes, Teri Mathews could have been a model for Seventeen or Glamour or one of those other dog-eared magazines Hilda kept neatly stacked next to the coffeepot. Mrs. Jensen had told Teri so time and again, but the girl just laughed, accentuating those pretty dimples of hers. She looks a little tired today though, Mrs. Jensen reflected critically. There were circles under her eyes.
I’ll bet she was up all night studying.
Even her bright pink sweater and short denim skirt did nothing to spark the perkiness that usually characterized Teri Mathews. She’s such a sweet girl. Now, that skinny Josie over there, with that electrified mop of bleached perm straggling down her back, and the Trident bubble gum constantly cracking away, now, she has a mouth on her. And probably a few miles too. But Teri is a little doll. She belongs at home baking cookies and bouncing a sweet little baby on her knee, Mrs. Jensen thought. Well, I’m sure once she marries that nice boy, Brian, it will happen soon enough.
“Is the semester over already?” Mrs. Jensen inquired as Teri dabbed top coat on to her nails. “So are you graduating now?”
Teri shook her head and met the older woman’s quizzical look with a wry smile. “I wish,” Teri sighed. “I’ll graduate in June and then I’m looking at two more years until I get my master’s degree.”
Mrs. Warnler sank into a warm green vinyl chair beside Teri’s work stand and lit a cigarette. Melting slush dripped from her boots, forming a small gray puddle at her feet. “Bet you’ll never make it.”
She winked at Mrs. Jensen, who smiled knowingly.
Teri glanced up then, looking from one to the other of them. “Says who?”
Mrs. Warnler beamed at her. “Says me. You’re getting married to that handsome boy, aren’t you? I predict you’ll have a baby and forget all about night school.”
Here we go again. Teri smiled patiently, capping the polish and pushing back her chair. “Brian wants me to be a social worker, Mrs. Warnler. We’ve talked about it many times. We both agreed to wait for children until I can establish a part-time practice. After all”—she gazed straight-faced at Mrs. Jensen, who was now smiling widely—“I’ve had plenty of on-the-job counseling training working here for five years. Right, Josie?” she called to the stylist mixing a perm solution at the sink.
“Yeah, we get all kinds. And all kinds of stories. The only thing we’re missing here is the couch.”
Teri tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear as Mrs. Warnler and Mrs. Jenson traded chairs. “Passion Pink again?” she asked, scooting her chair forward once more, her fingers already on the bottle.
“How about something brighter? It’s so dreary out. I hate November. Now, if I was in Hawaii, I wouldn’t hate it so much.”
Teri massaged cuticle remover into Mrs. Warnler’s nail beds. “You and me both,” she said in her pleasantly low-pitched voice. An image of white sand beaches and turquoise ocean dotted with surfers floated into her mind. She and Brian had talked about going to Hawaii for their honeymoon, but had decided it was too expensive. He and his dad were buying a new trimmer for the tool and die shop, and her tuition was going up next semester. Toronto was as close to Hawaii as they would get for a while. Especially if they scraped up enough money for a down payment on that bungalow in Plymouth.
Every tip will count, she thought bleakly as she watched Mrs. Jensen amble toward the front of the shop, forgetting once again to tip her.
“By the way, Teri,” Josie called out from her work station where she was rolling a perm, “Mrs. Salinski left your tip with me yesterday when you went out for lunch. Remind me to give it to you.”
“Oh!” Mrs. Jensen stopped short and hurried back toward Teri, holding her open brown handbag out toward her. “I almost forgot. Take a dollar, honey. Right there in the side pocket. I’ll see you next week same time.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Jensen.” Thank you, Josie, Teri thought, shooting her friend a grateful look. Josie met her eyes in the mirror and grinned.
Teri tried to concentrate on Mrs. Warnler’s prattle about her grandchildren, but her mind kept drifting to the final exam looming before her. She was more nervous about it than she cared to admit. She had to do well—she couldn’t afford any setbacks. Her life and Brian’s had been carefully planned out for the next two years, starting with their wedding in May. It was all drafted out as methodically as the neatly written entries for each day and hour were logged into the Hair and Now appointment book. Finish school, get her MSW at Wayne State, buy a house, and set up a private practice counseling dysfunctional families —all before their second anniversary.
And Brian was hoping to bring in enough additional business to start a second shift at the tool and die shop. That would be tough, but she knew it would mean a lot to them if he could swing it.
No, there was no time for setbacks or failures or babies, not for a while. As long as she had a plan and stuck to it, Teri felt as if her little universe was in order. It was the small glitches in life that scared her, wreaking havoc with her sense of security. And so Teri meticulously strove to keep her little world intact. It drove Brian crazy, she knew, because he tackled life like a star quarterback, charging, dodging, maneuvering, confident in his strategy and in his abilities to win on the field. Teri, on the other hand, wrote her game plan in permanent marker, and once the ink was dry it was as official as a final score. But Brian humored her, and between Teri’s list and schedules and Brian’s calm good sense, they were on the right track, she could feel it. Every day closer to the wedding she grew more confident of the future.
At three-thirty Teri put her nail files in the disinfectant-filled tumbler, packed her polishes away, and lifted her fleece-lined denim jacket from the metal coat hook in the back room.
“Not so fast, kiddo.” Josie, grinning, blocked her path as Teri started toward the front of the little shop. Here it comes, Teri thought, a smile spreading across her heart-shaped face. They didn’t forget after all. But her smile froze as Josie dangled a dollar bill before her nose. “Mrs. Salinski’s tip. You almost forgot it.”
“Oh. Thanks.”
“Good luck on your final.”
“Thanks, Josie. I’ll be glad when it’s over.”
“You and Brian going to celebrate?”
For a moment Teri brightened. “Celebrate?”
“The end of finals. Hey, what’s wrong with you today? You’re halfway to Nebraska.”
“I didn’t get much sleep last night. Brian had to go to Indiana on business and he won’t be home until tomorrow. Since I can never sleep well without him there anyway, I stayed up studying till almost four.”
“You’ll make up for it tonight. Just snooze your little heart away once that final’s over.”
Yes, Teri thought as she walked out into the snowy November drizzle. The wind whipped the freezing droplets at her face, stinging her cheeks and driving her ungloved hands deep into her pile-lined pockets. I’ll snooze all right. Straight through my birthday. She had thought that at least Josie would remember. Last year, Josie and Marie had brought in a Baskin Robbins ice cream cake, and the whole shop, even Hilda, the owner, had sung “Happy Birthday” so loudly, people had looked in from the bus stop outside on the street.
Well, she’d just treat herself to a Sander’s hot fudge sundae after the final, then go home, put on the soundtrack from Les Miz, wrap herself up in an afghan, and unwind with a glass of white zinfandel until Brian called. He’d remember.
Teri whizzed through the essay questions in less than an hour. That late-night review had crystallized some important theories in her mind, and the answers flowed freely from her brain to the Bic pen skimming rapidly along the lines in her blue book. She felt a sense of triumph when she finally set the pen down.
The sleety drizzle had stopped and it was clear and dark when she finally headed toward her little, used Volvo in the parking structure. As she buckled her seat belt, Teri realized she was famished. Next stop, Sander’s. Happy birthday to me.
The apartment hallway was lit only by a small, flickering bulb when an hour later she trudged up the salted cement stairs. Brian would probably call right after eleven, when the rates went down. Maybe she’d have time to take a hot bath with that zinfandel and then wrap herself in a pair of his flannel pajamas before his call. As she let herself in, the lonely darkness rose up to meet her. Sighing, she fumbled for the light switch.
Then everything happened at once. The light came on and she blinked in confusion as twenty voices screamed “Surprise!”
“Oh, my God!” Teri’s hands flew to her mouth. “I don’t believe it!”
Red, purple, yellow, and green balloons cascaded through the air as Josie, Marie, Hilda, Brian’s sister Tina, and her other friends leapt forward around the sofa, laughing and cheering to draw her into the festively decorated apartment. There were banners and streamers across every doorway, and a giant cake studded with twenty-six yellow candles festooned the walnut coffee table.
Tina snapped a picture of Teri’s stunned face, The Beatles’ “Birthday” blared from the boom box, and Josie yelled, “Pizza will be here in twenty minutes!”
“Or we get three dollars off,” Marie chuckled.
Teri, recovering from her astonishment, grabbed Josie by her bony shoulders, laughing. “You remembered!”
Josie kissed her on the cheek, smelling of wine and creme rinse.
“We’ve been planning this for weeks! You should have seen the look on your face. I almost bust a gut!”
Then Tina, Brian’s eighteen year-old sister, thrust a card into Teri’s hand. “Brian’s going to call around eleven, but he said to give you this.”
The next few hours were a blur of pizza, chocolate cake, presents, and laughter. Teri took Brian’s phone call in the privacy of their bedroom, with the beat of “Born in the USA” reverberating through the walls.
“Sounds like you’ve got one wild party going on there. Hope you’re not doing anything I wouldn’t do, babe.”
She wanted to kiss him right through the phone.
“Oh, Brian, it’s great. I wish you could be here...”
“Me too, but I’m stuck in Indiana till the day after tomorrow. I hate missing your birthday. I’m going to make it up to you, Teri. I’ll never be away from you again on your birthday.”
“Promise?”
‘Scout’s honor.”
“But you said you weren’t a scout.”
“Picky, picky.”
She grinned, and glanced up at the framed photograph on her oak-veneered nightstand. It was a photograph of the two of them. At six feet two, Brian was a good eight inches taller than she was, with a lanky, muscular build, sandy hair the texture of satin and eyes the color of hazelnuts deeply set within an angular, good-humored face. He was handsome enough to pose for a Budweiser ad, and hunky enough to give Bruce Springsteen a run for his money. Brian, however, was more interested in playing pool and shooting baskets at the park than trying on clothes. In fact, he still wore the pair of faded Guess jeans on weekends that he was wearing the night Teri first met him on a blind date.
“Have you opened my card yet?” Brian asked. Teri could barely hear him because someone – Maria? – screamed with laughter. She pressed the phone tighter against her ear.
“Not yet. Should I open it now?”
“After we hang up. Then go back to your party. And remember, I love you. Happy Birthday, babe.”
She clutched the phone, suddenly reluctant to let him go. “I love you too, Bri. Hurry home, it’s cold here without you.”
“It’s cold there anyway,” he teased. “It’s November, and it’s Michigan, remember?”
“But when I’m in your arms it’s always July.”
He laughed. “Well, in that case, I’ll just have to set off some fireworks when I get back. Scout’s honor.”
Teri stood motionless for a moment after she hung up the phone. She was so lucky to have Brian. And lucky to have friends like Josie and Marie. She hadn’t been forgotten after all. There were people who cared about her, and that was pretty remarkable since Teri Mathews had existed only for the past ten years.
Brian’s card, showing a baby elephant saying: “ME forget YOUR birthday?” made her laugh. She turned it over and found scrawled on the back in Brian’s nearly illegible handwriting the words:
IOU – Dear Teri, I owe you one hell of a dinner at the Old Parthenon. We’ll hit Greektown when I get back – shish kebab, moussaka, baklava, the works. Love you, babe. Bri.
She sat down on the bed, staring at the letters “IOU.” Unbidden, a scene from her ninth birthday sprang into her mind:
Her father, handing her a pink flowered card with a balloon in the center. “IOU two tickets for opening day at Comiskey Park,” it had read. She had been thrilled. A chance to be alone with her father, without competing for his attention with six younger brothers and sisters, had been the best present she could imagine. And the White Sox! She’d known every player on the team, every position, every batting average. She was her father’s daughter. It was her dream come true. On the April Day when he fulfilled the IOU, her mother packed them a box lunch of tuna fish sandwiches and Fritos. At the stadium Daddy bought her a pack of hot-roasted peanuts from the mustachioed vendor boisterously soliciting customers from behind his steaming pushcart. Later Daddy helped her keep score. Someone spilled Coke on her new canvas sneakers, but she hadn’t cared. The White Sox won the day, and Daddy bought her a pennant to celebrate. A perfect day.
Teri blinked, realizing that there were tears on Brian’s card. Even Bri doesn’t know the truth, she thought heavily. She set the card down on the floral chintz bedspread and pushed away the memories. There was no Daddy anymore, no family, no going back. That little girl was gone, erased as if she had never existed. Now there was only Teri Mathews, future bride of Brian Michaelson.
There could be no past. Teri knew that. There was only the future. And as she brushed the tears aside and composed herself to return to the party, she thanked God with all her heart that she had one.
* * *
“Rise and shine, Mathews, This party ain’t over yet.”
Teri was jarred awake by Josie and Marie tearing the sea-blue blankets and flannel sheets away from her sweatshirt-clad body. Suddenly, a blast of cold air chilled her naked legs.
“Go away!” she complained, trying to shake the grogginess from her head.
She yanked the covers back again, but Josie pulled her out of the double bed. Josie and Marie, who had spent the night in sleeping bags on the floor, had already showered and dressed, Teri noted.
“We let you sleep until the last minute in honor of your birthday, but there are places to go and people to see,” Marie chirped at her from behind her fuchsia-rimmed glasses.
“My birthday ended yesterday, guys.” Teri yawned.
“But not the celebration,” Josie said, pushing her toward the bathroom. “Hurry up and shower. We’ll pick your clothes out—and breakfast is on the table.”
No sooner had Teri turned on the shower than Josie and Marie flew into frantic motion. While Josie plucked a red turtleneck sweater and jeans from the crowded little closet beside the bathroom, Marie dashed into the kitchen and pulled out slices of cold pizza. She set them on white and blue Corelle plates, beside leftover wedges of birthday cake, and poured orange juice into tall tumblers.
By the time Teri entered the kitchen, the smell of coffee convinced her it was really morning, though her watch read five forty-five.
“Five forty-five! I don’t have to be at work until ten!”
“You don’t have to be at work at all. Hilda rescheduled all your appointments. You’re free, girlfriend.”
“What are you up to?” It usually took Teri three cups of coffee to wake up in the morning, but now she was alert as she stared warily at her two friends, both of whom looked particularly well put together today. Josie’s usually wild mane was tamed by a scrunchy, and Marie’s brown hair was twisted into a perfect French braid.
“Wear those gold hoop earrings Brian gave you last Christmas,” Marie suggested. “And put on a little more eye shadow.”
“Where are we going?”
Josie grinned. “I know you hate surprises, Miss Planner, but you’re going to love this one. Now, hurry up.”
When Josie’s five year-old Chevy pulled on to the Metro Airport exit ramp an hour later, Teri’s mouth fell open.
“Wait, wait,” Marie laughed. “Don’t even try to guess.”
These guys are crazy—but this is kind of fun, Teri admitted to herself, though she still felt eager to know what was in store for her. Maybe Brian is right and I should go with the flow more than I do. Relax, enjoy yourself. They’ve obviously gone to a lot of trouble, she thought, feeling a rush of affection for her friends.
But where were they taking her and when would she be back? As they dashed toward the check-in counter, she thought: My God, we’re actually getting on a plane? I didn’t even bring a change of underwear!
Her tan shoulder bag slammed against her hip as she raced hand in hand alongside Josie and Marie toward Gate 4. Breathless, Josie handed the boarding passes to the stoop-shouldered gate attendant posted outside the jetway.
“Now will you tell me where we’re going?” Teri pleaded, sending her friends a beseeching glance.
The middle-aged gate attendant took pity on her, boredom vanishing as he gazed down into her luminous brown eyes. “Better keep that coat buttoned up, miss, because you’re headed for the Windy City.”
Teri stopped short. Josie yanked her arm. “Come on, you’re holding up the line.”
Chicago. No.
Marie and Josie excitedly drew her along into the plane, but their words were gibberish to Teri, and she felt as if she were moving in slow motion as she allowed herself to be led up the aisle to a window seat.
Suddenly, Josie’s voice penetrated her daze. “Oh, Marie, I can’t stand it anymore. Let’s just tell her.”
Marie’s face flushed with excitement. “We’ve got tickets for the special Oprah Winfrey Show that’s being taped this morning,” she announced triumphantly. “It’s all about weddings, and there’s going to be a fashion show and an editor from Perfect Bride magazine. Then we have reservations at Due’s for lunch—their deep-dish pizza is fantastic—and then we’ll shop till we drop. My cousin works at a discount bridal shop on Wabash, and she’s picked out the most gorgeous dresses for you to try on! But there’s one last surprise you’ll have to wait to see.”
Teri swallowed hard. “I’m not sure I can handle any more surprises,” she said hollowly. Marie, misinterpreting her dazed expression as one of stunned delight, squeezed her arm.
“Ever been to Chicago?” she asked, securing her seat belt.
“No.”
Liar. Teri’s palms began to sweat. As the plane’s doors closed, her mind whirled. I swore I’d never go back. How could I ever let them trap me into something like this? But now there’s nothing I can do about it, she despaired. There’s nothing I can do.
Forty-five minutes later, Teri had disembarked the plane and was following her friends toward the sea of faces in the airport lounge. Suddenly, one face came into focus. Brian. She hurtled into his arms so urgently he almost dropped the bouquet of roses he held. “Whoa, babe”—he kissed her, laughing—“take it easy, I’m not going anywhere.”
“You’d better not.”
Brian’s strong arms tightened around her. “Hey, you okay?”
She wasn’t. But she had to pretend that she was as excited and happy as they all hoped she would be. “I’m great,” she murmured, managing a forced smile. All the while she clung to him, fearing her knees would give way if she let go. “You’ve all outdone yourselves. This is the most unforgettable birthday I’ve ever had.”
She was still trembling when they all took their seats in the tenth row of the audience on the set of the Oprah Winfrey Show. Television. She was in Chicago, filling out an information card in the audience of one of the most widely watched television talk shows in America. She had to resist the almost hysterical urge to crawl under her seat or to borrow Josie’s paisley scarf and tie it turban-like around her head. But they would all think she was crazy.
Why did I let my hair go back to its natural color? All my careful planning, all these years. Why didn’t I see this coming? She forced herself to sit perfectly still as the cameramen found their positions and the assistant producer warmed up the audience.
“Okay, everybody, if you’re chewing gum, please get rid of it. There are monitors around the room for you to watch the show, but if the camera focuses on you, whatever you do, don’t watch yourself or wave. Got it?”
Marie squealed, “Guys, we might be on television. Could you just die?”
Teri wished she could. She sat rigidly, her jeans suddenly feeling too rough, too warm, the red turtleneck tight as a vise around her throat. Her hands twisted and retwisted the worn strap of her shoulder bag. Beside her, Brian and the others were absorbed in the preshow preparations.
Teri could only pray that she wouldn’t be noticed, that this day would come and go and her life could continue exactly as it had for the past ten years. Oh, God, she prayed, don’t let anything happen.
Teri’s stomach lurched as the familiar theme song blared into the studio and Oprah, dressed in an exquisite black and gold suit, greeted her audience with “How many brides do we have in the audience today? Wow, that many? How many grooms? Well, ladies and gentlemen, it’s June in November and do we have a show for you!”
One by one, dazzling models gowned in exquisite white creations floated down the flower-bedecked runway through the center of the audience. Monique D’Arcy, the editor-in-chief of Perfect Bride magazine, provided sparkling commentary and hit it off with Oprah, the two of them exchanging easy banter about the pleasures and pitfalls of planning the perfect wedding. Monique D’Arcy was a tall brunette beauty whose curvaceous figure was flattered by the clingy pink sand-washed silk suit she wore, accented only by a long strand of pearls and a huge Tiffany diamond ring on her finger that flashed in the studio lights. Teri barely heard Monique’s quips, and her introduction to the random drawing about to take place. Vaguely, she realized it was something about a magazine issue devoted to celebrity brides, something about Ana Cates and that famous model, Eve Hamel—and something about one lucky audience member getting the opportunity of a lifetime.
“Teri Mathews!”
Someone had called her name.
“Teri Mathews of Livonia, Michigan,” Oprah exclaimed. “Where are you? Stand up, you lucky girl!”
Oprah? Oprah is calling my name?
Then Brian was on his feet, clapping, and Oprah ran with her microphone into the audience, straight toward Teri.
This couldn’t be happening.
“Teri, come on, it’s you!” Josie screamed, jumping up and slapping her on the back so forcefully, she almost fell forward. “Hurry! Go up there!”
“They’re waiting for you!” Marie added.
Brian pulled her to her feet, kissed her, and pushed her into Oprah’s welcoming arms.
Teri couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think, couldn’t even run. Panic surged through her.
No, no, no, no, Teri screamed silently. Her quiet new life. Her carefully cultivated anonymity, had been blown to smithereens. Oprah Winfrey was talking to her—and she was on national television.
She could only pray that no one would recognize her.
* * *
He recognized her at once.
He came to his feet, drawn by the beautiful doe eyes he could never forget, eyes that haunted him every night in his sleep, even after all these years.
There she was. He couldn’t believe it. There she was. She looked panicked, terrified, but utterly beautiful.
The years had intensified the earthy beauty that had marked her even as an innocent teenager. Outside, Arizona sunshine drenched the mountaintops. Inside the spartan adobe ranch, his tanned face blanched pale as the Chicago snow.
He wanted to reach out and yank her through the television screen into his arms.
Teri Mathews? Of course. She had changed her name. That’s why he’d never been able to find her. Teri Mathews of Livonia, Michigan. Well, Gina, you’re a long way from Phoenix.
But after years of fruitless searching, he’d finally found her.
And this time there’d be no running away.