You’d think that the day your whole life changes would be marked in some way. Bells should be ringing (well, I guess they would be later). Maybe there should be lightning bolts or a thunderclap or two? I looked through the window, but all I could see was a bright autumn morning, with a handful of russet leaves tossed by a breeze, floating past like amber confetti.
I could feel the nervous tension inside me flipping my stomach like a pancake. My hands were shaking so much that I was sure to make a mess of my make-up, which was lined up on my dressing table like surgical instruments in an operating theatre. I smiled at my reflection. Not too bad. I took a deep breath and forced myself to relax. That was better. It was natural, of course, to feel this way. What woman wouldn’t feel nervous on a day like this? A drink might have helped, but the last thing I needed was to turn up at the church with the smell of alcohol on my breath. Although I knew how hilarious he would find that.
‘Not going to happen,’ I told my reflection. As I carefully applied my make-up, I found my eye drawn to the elegant dress hanging in a protective covering on the wardrobe door. I’d known it was the perfect choice as soon as I’d seen it, and I really wanted to look special for him today. Not that he cared how I looked… well, not in clothes, anyway. Honestly, Emma, I chastised my reflection, while a range of highly improper and graphic images came to mind. Talk about inappropriate!
A knock on the front door got me to my feet, but before I was halfway across the room, I heard the sound of it opening and the rumble of voices in the hall below. The house was full of family and friends, some of whom had travelled a long distance to be here today, so there were more than enough people to handle door duty. In fact, was it really ungrateful of me to wish I could have got ready for today without the distraction of them all around me? Surely that was normal?
I could hear various family members getting ready in the bedrooms next to mine, and I knew I should probably be dressed and done by now. If I didn’t move faster, perhaps they’d go without me? I gave a small laugh at the ludicrous thought and stepped over to the window to check out who’d just arrived. A small white florist’s van was parked in front of our house, and the flowers we had ordered were being carefully lifted and carried inside. Okay, I really was late now. Just time to do my hair and get into my dress.
I’d dithered over whether to go for an up or down style for today. But then I thought of his hands running through the long reddish brown strands, twisting them around his fingers like reeds, to pull me closer towards him. No contest. Leave it down and let it sit on my shoulders as usual. Before shrugging out of my silky dressing gown, I peered at the mirror and suddenly swept back the fringe from my forehead, exposing a faint scar which was still visible at my hairline. I ran a finger over the white, slightly raised skin and briefly closed my eyes in memory of how it came to be there. That night had marked us all, and while I might be the only one who still bore a visible reminder on my face, nothing had ever been the same for any of us from that moment on. So many lives had been changed that night, so many futures had been rewritten.
I let my hair fall back into place, as the mirror caught and bounced a comet-bright reflection of my engagement ring, bathed in a beam of autumn sunshine. Of course I’d been wearing a different ring on that finger on the night of the accident, but that one had ended up at the bottom of a ravine. Long story. It was unfortunate, but not as unfortunate as falling in love with a mysterious stranger had been. I’d read every wedding magazine and book going, but none of them seemed to cover that particular thorny issue. What do you do when, a fortnight before your wedding, you suddenly find yourself in love with two different men?