Chapter Fourteen

 

Kylie's all-white wedding at The Blue Lagoon went off without a glitch. Deidra had planned something personal and low-key, just as Kylie had wanted, but didn't quite know how to do.

It was beautiful, simple, and mercifully brief. As the maid-of-honor, Deidra had to face the congregation, and Marcus had been at the front, in a wheelchair.

Marcus in a tuxedo was all kinds of handsome—the wheelchair had not diminished his magnetic presence one bit.

Kylie and Gareth had only invited their family and close friends, so it was a small intimate crowd. Deidra had lobbied that Tiffany not be invited. Kylie had been only too pleased to acquiesce to that request. No Tiffany and no Jackie, Gareth's ex-wife.

Deidra wandered off from the small gathering as soon as the pictures and toasts and inane small talk were over. She sat down on the deck, hurriedly taking off her white slippers, and trailed her feet in the water.

She could understand why Kylie had gone on and on about Portland, and about Blue Lagoon in particular. It was beautiful with all its vibrant colors, deep blue waters, deep green trees, and golden sunrays playing in the water.

She usually tried to avoid the low-key spots in Jamaica, but now she was finding that her tastes were gradually changing. She was now fine with low-key. She was fine with anything really. She hardly had any extremes of emotion these days. She had moved out of the Bancroft's house and back into her own place soon after she heard about Marcus and Tiffany's impending addition to their family.

Contrarily, this year she had made plans to spend the Christmas holidays in Mount Faith instead of with her grandmother in New York—the second year in a row without her family at Christmas. Last year she was being punished and couldn't afford it. This year, she just didn't want to be around people.

This wedding had taken a lot of effort to plan. She found that when she was sad, things seemed to drag along. People talked and she couldn't hear them, and there was a constant pain in the region of her heart. She was meaning to go and check it out. Maybe she had a heart condition and she was going to die.

She flicked the water with her toes and placed the glass she was holding on the deck. She didn't even know what sort of drinks had been in there, she had drunken it without really tasting it.

The buzz of people talking and laughing in the distance suddenly came back to her and she leaned back on the deck with her hands. Her hair had been caught up in a fancy bun and she loosened the pins one by one until her hair unfurled, a light breeze teasing it around her face.

She wished the sunlight rays were not so weak and that the late afternoon sun could have warmed her up a bit more. Maybe then it could warm up her cold, cold heart.

She heard his wheelchair squeaking as he rolled down the deck. She considered getting up and leaving. She didn't want to talk to Marcus. She never wanted to talk to him again. Ever.

One of the wheels of the chair stopped beside her hand. She didn't turn her head to look around.

She closed her eyes and inhaled. He was wearing Clive Christian 1872. She loved that scent on men. She could inhale a man wearing 1872 all day, but not this man beside her.

He had a pregnant girlfriend, and he had lost his memory of her.

"I remembered something the other day," Marcus said to her, watching transfixed as her hair danced along her spine. "It was about you."

Deidra stiffened. She was not going to talk to him, but she was curious. She looked up at him.

"I remembered us having a conversation about rules."

"We did," Deidra said, "the first day we met."

"Ah," Marcus nodded. "The memory came and then it left just like that." He snapped his fingers. "I was thinking about it though. I had a long talk with my Dad the other day and I have come to the conclusion that there was no sense following rules because others tell you to. We rebel against rules because we don't know the source of the rules, why they were made, or even the person behind the rules."

"Where are you going with this?" Deidra asked.

Marcus sighed, "I left home because I rebelled against my parents rules. I hated the rules, but now I am finding out that they prevent us from pitfalls and making mistakes."

Deidra nodded, "I grew up without rules, so I appreciate them now. Go figure."

Marcus mused. "I grew up with rules, but it's just now that I am appreciating them too."

"Good for you," Deidra said, "I guess now that you are going to be a father you are changing your thought patterns."

Marcus cleared his throat. "I will accept the responsibility of fatherhood and try to be the best Dad I can be."

Deidra clenched her teeth and turned her head away from Marcus; his 1872 perfume was still in her head, though, and she felt this urge to get up, sit on his lap, and wail. It was unfair. He was going to be a father and stay with Tiffany.

"Deidra," Marcus said softly. He wished that he could sit beside her on the deck, but his foot was elevated; he was not supposed to bend it or shift it much.

Deidra didn't respond. "Go away, Marcus."

"Do you know the song? If loving you is wrong I don't want to be right?"

Deidra sniffed. Tears were stinging her eyes, and she was willing them not to fall. She couldn't speak. Her voice was all choked up and tear-clogged.

"Well, I was thinking of the song while I saw you standing there beside my sister today. My Mom used to call that song a wicked song when she heard it on the radio," Marcus chuckled, "but the lyrics are just so ‘me’ today."

Deidra grimaced. "You don't remember me. You don't know if you love me. And in that song, I would be the other woman? The one that is not at home? No thanks."

Marcus cleared his throat. "I'll move out from the apartment. When I am doing rehab next year, I'll live near the rehab center."

"I don't want to be with you," Deidra swallowed, "not like this. You declared your love for me before," her expression was pinched, "and yet Tiffany is pregnant."

"It must have been a mistake," Marcus said, feeling inadequate to defend himself. He just could not remember.

"Mistake... oh no... no... no... it's not a mistake," Deidra got up and grabbed the glass she had put down and her sandals. "It's life. These things happen; you love one girl and sleep with another. We were just not meant to be together. I am going to try very hard to move on. I am going to forget you. I am going to be happy. One day too, I will have my own family and a guy who really means it when he uses that four-letter 'L' word, and he's not going to be living with another woman or have a kid with her. I will be the center of his world. He will want only me. We will grow old together and have fun together and when I am all wrinkly and gray he'll still want me."

Tears were coursing down Deidra's cheeks. "I don't want to be a step-mom to Tiffany's child or be embroiled in any baby-mama drama. I deserve better than that. Whatever it is that we had ends now."

Marcus' eyes were damp when she walked away. She was distraught and he was impotent to do anything about it. He dearly wished that he had lived his life a different way, and that he had met Deidra before Tiffany. Actually, he wished that there had been no Tiffany.

The resentment boiled up in his mind. Why did he have to be in that accident? Why did he have to lose his memory of the most important part of his life?

The answers were just as elusive as his patchy memory, and he sat out near the edge of the deck heartbroken and sad.

Even when his brothers came to sit with him and they were talking, albeit somberly, and even when Micah patted him on his shoulder sympathetically and Adrian started reminiscing about when they were little, he couldn't find the energy to demolish the heavy dark cloud of depression that was enshrouding him. He couldn't easily dismiss Deidra's tear-stained face, and he couldn't easily repress the pain he felt when he thought about her finally walking away from him.