MAGIC. There could be no other word for it. The organ music swelled, playing the traditional wedding march, and Amy began walking slowly, gracefully down the aisle, anchored on Merrick's arm. Amy looked scared, but she also looked stunning in her gown of creamy-colored lace, the train swirling behind her, a delicate veil floating like mist over her face.
Lisa blinked rapidly. She told herself that it was just a reflex reaction, this deplorable female tendency to cry at weddings. But still, she couldn't ignore the magic. She watched from her position beside the altar as one of the bridesmaids. The other bridesmaids were Megan, Jon's sister, Christa, his niece Kieran, and Amy's partner, Grace. All of them wore the same pretty dress: fitted bodice in forest-green velvet, gently flared skirt in matching satin. Lisa's sister and father reached the altar. Merrick stepped back, a tender expression on his face as he relinquished his daughter to the groom. Lisa couldn't swear to it, but she thought she saw a suspicious glimmer in Merrick's eyes, too. But then all Lisa's attention was riveted on the bridal pair. Amy and Jon stood close together, gazing raptly at each other. And, at this moment, all Amy's doubts and fears of the past few months seemed to have vanished. Love and confidence shone from her face, obviously vanquishing any other emotion. As for Jon, well, he simply looked like a man besotted.
Lisa blinked again, more rapidly this time. Way to go, Amy, she said silently. You're showing all of us what really matters.
It was true that Helene and Merrick, sitting in a front pew, scarcely glanced at each other; even their own daughter's wedding could apparently not unite them today. But Jon's parents, it seemed, had come around. They were sitting in another of the front pews, gazing at Amy and Jon with nothing but expressions of misty-eyed happiness. Yet Amy and Jon saw only each other…lost in their own love. And Lisa, watching them, felt a twist of longing so intense she almost had to press a hand to her stomach.
On her march down the aisle, Lisa, almost against her will, had scanned the chapel. It was filled to overflowing, as if everyone in town had come to celebrate the occasion. But Lisa had been looking for one face only…a face she hadn't seen.
Perhaps it had been stupid of her to invite Matt to the wedding. But, ever since her visit to Bea in the hospital two days ago, Lisa hadn't been able to get the old woman's words out of her mind. Don't let him push you away. Promise me.
Maybe, deep down, Matt really did want to share something of his life with Lisa—and that was why he'd taken her to visit Bea. She didn't know for sure. She only knew she couldn't forget Bea's words. So she'd invited Matt to the wedding, as if to share something of her own life. And she'd wanted him to see what a couple in love looked like. She'd wanted him to take a good look at Jon and Amy, and ask himself if maybe he wasn't missing out on something. But it seemed he wasn't here. Lisa had studied each face in the chapel—and finally had to accept the fact that Matt hadn't shown.
Jon and Amy were still lost in each other's gaze. That was the way it should be. But Matt couldn't love Lisa like that. He wouldn't let himself.
This wasn't a good time for Lisa to be thinking such thoughts. A bridesmaid at her sister's wedding was supposed to maintain at least a semblance of dignity.
“And do you, Amy, take Jon…”
With a shock, Lisa realized that the ceremony was slipping right past her. Reverend Mendoza's sonorous voice filled the small chapel, carrying the lilt of his native Cuba. All during her childhood, Lisa had listened to that steady voice—every Sunday sitting with her parents and sisters, the stainedglass windows sending out their jeweled light, the ceiling beams of the nave arching up, pointing heavenward. Lisa had felt reassured back then, but now she felt an almost overpowering urge to dash from the church.
“The exchange of rings symbolizes your love, a never-ending circle that will guide and uplift you both…”
Amy's hand shook as Jon clasped it, slipping the gold wedding band on her finger. He seemed none too steady himself as Amy, in turn, slipped a band on his finger.
“You may now kiss the bride!”
As the organ music crescendoed, Jon swept Amy into his arms and kissed her. The veil got in the way. Amy gave a breathless, joyous laugh, swept the veil aside and kissed her new husband in earnest. Magic, all right.
Lisa found herself moving down the aisle with Meg and the other bridesmaids. As they neared the back of the church, she saw him—Matt, sitting in the last row, wearing an uncustomary jacket over his shirt and tie. Despite the beauty of the bride, he seemed to be gazing only at Lisa, the darkness in his eyes sending an unmistakable message.
Lisa stumbled, almost tripping on the long skirt of her bridesmaid's dress. Her sister Meg grabbed hold of her.
“Whoa,” Meg said. “We've made it this far…” Then she followed the direction of Lisa's gaze. “Oh,” she murmured. “Well, no wonder.”
“What are you talking about?” Lisa muttered as they went by Matt. She was tempted to crane her neck around, just to keep him in sight, and had to keep reminding herself that bridesmaids were supposed to be dignified.
“You know exactly what I'm talking about,” Meg said imperturbably as they came out of the chapel and into the grassy courtyard of the church, with its dogwoods and azaleas, and the rambling wisteria vine leaning over the fence like a passerby trying to peek in. “I'm sure you realize Amy has clued me in that you and Matt Connell were once an item.”
“There isn't that much to say about it.”
“There's enough, apparently.”
Lisa stared at her oldest sister in exasperation. “You and Amy, between the two of you, you're a real pain in the—”
“Between the two of us, we care about you.” Meg's forehead creased. “I like Patrick,” she murmured. “He's not the type of man who would hurt you.”
“This isn't a contest between Patrick and Matt. Besides—”
Meg didn't pay any attention. “I just don't want to see you hurt, Lissie. And Matt Connell, from the little I've seen, well, he seems like the kind of man who could break a woman's heart.”
Lisa wanted to protest, but she couldn't seem to get any words out. A welter of emotions confused her. Resentment mingled with affection at the knowledge that her big sister would still try to protect her, after all these years. And a despairing conviction that Meg was more right than she knew.
By now the rest of the wedding party had spilled out of the chapel, along with the first trickle of guests. Again Lisa scanned each face, tensing herself for the moment when she would have to face Matt. But the moment didn't materialize. Could he have left already? He'd put in his appearance in order to honor Lisa's invitation, but that was it?
Once more Lisa struggled against the sharp, unreasoning disappointment she felt. This was Amy's day. Nothing else should matter. With that in mind, Lisa made her way into the circle of well-wishers clustered around Jon and Amy. She shook hands rather formally with her ex-husband.
“Congratulations,” she said. “I'm really happy for you both.” But when she finally had a chance to congratulate her sister, she gave Amy an extratight hug. “You did it,” she murmured. “You really did it.”
Amy hugged her back. “Thank you, Lissie.”
It was the second time today one of her sisters had evoked the old childhood nickname.
Lisa turned, and there Matt was, standing just outside the chapel door, as if he must always be apart. She took a step in his direction, only to see her mother approach Matt and strike up a conversation.
Lisa remained where she was. She watched as the man she loved spoke with her mother, and wondered uneasily what they could be talking about. But the conversation didn't last long. Lisa saw Helene give Matt an almost maternal pat on the arm, then move off to greet someone else.
Matt came to Lisa's side. It was all she could do not to reach out and touch him. To stop herself, she folded her arms.
“Hello, Matt. How's your grandmother?”
“Holding her own,” he answered briefly. But Lisa could see the lines of strain etching their way into his forehead. She suspected he was spending most of his time at the hospital.
“I didn't know if you were going to make it,” she said. All she could do was gaze at him. His eyes were the color of an overcast sky, heralding storms. But Matt always kept such tight control of himself. If storms did break, he would go through them in silence…alone.
“You seem to be getting to know my mother,” she said.
“She was asking about Bea. The two of them go way back, it seems.” He paused. “As usual, Bea was in good form the last time Helene visited her in the hospital, asking your mother all sorts of questions about you.”
“Really?”
“By now your mother's pretty well aware of Bea's matchmaking intentions.”
“Don't worry, Matt,” Lisa said caustically, before she could stop herself. “Only one thing matters—I know what your intentions are. To keep yourself as separate from me as you can.”
He gazed at her intently, but he didn't deny her words. Lisa glanced away from him, looking at Amy and Jon. She couldn't resist pointing out a few facts.
“They look happy, don't they?”
“Yes,” Matt agreed.
“I have the feeling they'll be able to handle anything that comes their way. Because they'll be together, supporting each other.”
“That's the way it should be,” Matt acknowledged.
“But you just can't see that for yourself.” He didn't say anything, but the closed expression on his face said it all. Matt Connell was determined to go through life alone. He'd lost one family, and it seemed he wouldn't risk losing another.
LISA RODE to the reception with Meg. The two of them took Amy's car, heading out from the church in a caravan of other vehicles. So far, Lisa hadn't spotted Matt's sports car anywhere. No doubt he'd already left, wouldn't be making an appearance at the reception. She ought to be glad for that… relieved.
“Can't these people drive any faster?” she muttered. “We'll be here all day.”
“This is part of the event,” Meg said. “All of us clogging the streets, on our way to celebrate Jon and Amy's good fortune.”
The traffic inched along, bumper to bumper, all the way up the street. Lisa felt an agitation she scarcely knew how to contain. She sensed a tension in Megan, too. Her sister gripped the steering wheel just a little more tightly than necessary. Was she remembering her own wedding day…her broken marriage? As always, Megan was exquisitely groomed, but in a subdued fashion. She wore only a touch of lip gloss and her clear nail polish, nothing bright or flashy. Megan, in spite of her striking good looks, never tried to draw attention to herself. She seemed to need to always keep everything subdued and under control. Somehow this small, simple fact about her sister touched Lisa.
Lisa took herself by surprise then. Without any warning at all, she began to cry. The tears simply flowed out of her eyes. What was it about Hurricane Beach that turned her into a sobbing mess?
“Lisa,” Meg exclaimed in immediate concern. “What's wrong?”
“Oh, damn. I can't get this dress wet.” Lisa scrabbled through her purse for a tissue, and blotted her cheeks. The tears kept coming, as if with a will of their own.
Cranking the steering wheel sharply, Meg veered onto a narrow side street and came to a halt at the curb.
“Why'd you do that?” Lisa asked, her voice thick with yet more tears. “We'll never get there now.”
“Lissie. I want you to tell me exactly what's wrong.” Meg spoke in her commanding, oldersister voice. And somehow that only made Lisa cry all the harder. She covered her eyes in the already soggy tissue.
“It's the wedding,” she mumbled. “Weddings always have this effect on people…”
“Weddings make people a little dewy-eyed. They don't make them sob their hearts out. We're staying here until you tell me what's wrong.”
A memory flashed into Lisa's mind. Her voice was getting soggy, but she spoke, anyway. “Do you remember, Meg…I was about eight, and there was a horrid girl in school who kept bullying me— Cindy Ferguson, that was her name. When I finally told you about it, you marched right up to Cindy Ferguson and gave her hell. She never bothered me after that.”
“I wasn't going to let her beat up on my little sister. Just as I'm not going to let you spoil Amy's day. Lisa, I don't care if we have to sit in this car all day and all night. You're going to tell me what's wrong.”
Lisa fished in her purse for another tissue. And, with a vague sense of horror, she heard more words come spilling from her mouth.
“I…I got pregnant when I was sixteen,” she said. “Matt Connell was the father, except that he was only eighteen at the time. And he'd already dumped me for someone else, so I never got around to giving him the news…”
Meg stared at her as if she couldn't believe what she'd just heard. “Oh, Lissie.”
“God, that felt good,” Lisa said. “Carrying that secret all those years has been a real burden, you know?” Her tears had abruptly stopped flowing. But then what she'd actually just confessed struck her. “Forget about it,” she muttered. “I don't know why I brought it up. Ancient history.”
Meg took Lisa's hand and held it clasped between both of her own. “Lissie, how could something like that happen, and I didn't know? Why didn't you confide in me?” Meg's voice held no accusation, only concern, but nonetheless Lisa felt the old stirrings of guilt and inadequacy.
“I didn't know how to tell you that I'd done something that—that stupid. I…I went to a clinic in Tallahassee, and I gave a fake name…and they told me I was pregnant.”
“Oh, Lissie,” Meg said again, sorrow in her voice now. “The baby…?”
“A miscarriage, before the third month. I was so relieved—and I felt so terrible. As if I made it happen, just by wishing the baby would be gone.” It seemed Lisa had more tears, after all. They leaked out, dribbling down her cheeks. She felt like one of the young girls at Brennan House, sobbing out yet another story of hormones and naive love. What had happened to all Lisa's years of hard-won self-control?
“It wasn't your fault,” Meg said. “Miscarriages just happen. But, Lisa, did you really think Amy and I wouldn't understand? Or Mom and Dad?”
“Be real, Meg,” Lisa said. “Exactly what do you think our parents would have had to say about their youngest daughter getting knocked up?”
Meg winced. “That's one way to put it. Okay, so Mom and Dad would have been pretty upset. But they would have loved you, anyway. And as for me, I would have understood best of all.”
“I don't see how—”
Meg sighed. “Lisa, think about it. I gave birth to Derek only seven months after my wedding. He was a pretty good-sized baby for being ‘premature.’”
Now it was Lisa's turn to stare. “I never knew—”
“We hide too much in this family, that's the problem.”
Neither one of them spoke for several minutes, but the mention of Meg's long-ago son remained between them. Meg so rarely uttered Derek's name, but when she did, her voice filled with all the love she still guarded for her child.
“You know what the worst thing is?” Meg said at last, her voice barely audible. “The worst thing is not knowing. Thinking he could be anywhere… or nowhere. Always wondering.”
A humid breeze came in through the open windows of the car, yet it brought no relief from the heat, or from the heartache the two sisters silently shared. At last Meg gave Lisa's hand a squeeze before gently releasing it.
“I just wish you'd told me or Amy,” she murmured. “That's what sisters are for.”
“I never told anyone,” Lisa said, almost on a whisper. “I kept it buried so deep…until now.”
Meg shook her head. “I know why you feel bad. It's because of him. Matt Connell. I took one look at him, and knew he was the kind of man who could break a woman's heart.”
“For goodness' sake, Meg. You're the last person I expected to go all melodramatic—”
“Can you deny it's true?”
Lisa felt drained, as if her confession had taken everything out of her. “For a long time, I believed that I hated Matt. But now…he's changed. Losing his family did that to him. They all died in a plane crash, and Matt feels responsible. I can't hate him anymore. All I can do is just…love him.” Lisa gave a deep, shuddering breath, and the rest of it came out, too. “You see, not too long ago I finally did end up telling Matt about the pregnancy. And now he wants to make up for it. He wants to give money to Brennan House, and a whole lot else besides. But he can't give me what I really want. He can't love me in return…”
“This is even worse than I thought,” Meg said grimly. “He's making you miserable. I don't like it, not one bit.”
Meg almost seemed to welcome being angry with Matt. Maybe that made it easier for her to forget her own losses. Lisa realized now how long it had been since she'd seen Meg display any emotion.
“Meg…thanks,” Lisa said awkwardly. “For being my sister, and everything.”
“You're the last person I expected to go all mushy,” Meg answered with just a hint of humor. Then she was businesslike. “Now, what are we going to do about you? You look terrible. Your eyes are red, and your face is splotchy.”
“Don't be too encouraging—”
“That's good. The sarcasm's back.” Meg looked her over critically. “Sit back and close your eyes. That's the first step. I'll handle the rest.”
Lisa was too emotionally exhausted to protest. Dutifully, she leaned back and closed her eyes as Meg started up the car and began driving again. Lisa wondered if she had ever felt quite this raw, this vulnerable. She would have given anything to take back the secrets she'd given up. Over the years, she and Meg had perfected a polite, superficial relationship, and now Lisa had torn the surface right off. She wanted to hide.
But there was still so much to absorb! Such as the fact that Meg herself had experienced a teenage pregnancy; Meg had, after all, been only nineteen when Noah Carson had swept into her life. When she'd learned that she was pregnant, had she felt lonely and scared? But no, surely not…Meg had ended up marrying Noah. She'd had someone to share the experience with her, as well as the joy of her baby's birth. Meg's tragedy had come later.
Now, after only a short drive, Meg pulled the car up in front of Beltramo's Restaurant. Merrick had reserved the entire place for the reception. After opening her eyes reluctantly, Lisa saw that the parking lot was already crowded. Without even thinking about what she was doing, she scanned the place for Matt's sports car. She didn't see it, and felt another lurch of disappointment. What was wrong with her? Hadn't she already had enough turmoil for one day? Did she really want to see him again?
Before she could examine the answer to that question, she struggled out of the car, the long skirt of her dress catching around her legs. Meg, moving much more gracefully in her own long dress, came around to give Lisa an inspection.
“You still look like you've been through the wringer.”
“That's because I feel like I've been through the wringer.”
“Follow me,” Meg said. “We'll sneak into the bathroom and do repairs.”
A few minutes later, Lisa was splashing water onto her face and combing her hair. When she peered into the mirror to reapply her mascara, she saw that her eyes were red-rimmed.
“Good enough,” Meg said from behind her. “If anyone asks, you can just say that it's perfectly natural to cry at your sister's wedding.”
“So we're disguising the evidence, hiding everything all over again,” Lisa remarked.
“It's Amy's day. Anyway, I'm sure that telling me was traumatic enough, Lissie. You're allowed to give it a rest.”
Once again Meg, who had cultivated her own fierce privacy over the years, revealed how well she understood.
“Come on,” Meg said. She arranged that calm, imperturbable look on her face, like someone putting on a mask. “Now, shall we go toast the bride and groom?”
THE RESTAURANT LOOKED particularly festive today, streamers in a rainbow of colors festooned the walls and ceiling. A space had been cleared of tables to create a dance floor, and the band was already playing a traditional Greek love song. A generous buffet had been set up in one corner, a long table arrayed with delicacies: shrimp cocktails, plump dolmades—savory rice and meat tucked inside grape leaves—phyllo pie, salad brimming with olives and anchovies and feta cheese, anise cookies and all manner of other treats from the Costas Family Bakery. Jon's parents had provided a feast. Uncomfortably, Lisa remembered a similar spread at her own wedding to Jon.
Amy and Jon had decided against a formal receiving line, and the guests milled about. Lisa scanned the restaurant, searching for Matt all over again.
Meg led the way toward the tables that had been reserved for family. Lisa found herself exchanging a few polite, but constrained, words with her former in-laws. Meanwhile, Helene was sitting at one table, Merrick at another. They chatted with separate friends, but each of them looked tense.
At yet another table, Lisa sank into a chair beside Meg and watched as Amy and Jon moved dreamily onto the dance floor. She didn't want to watch them. She'd genuinely rejoiced for her sister's happiness, but she just didn't have anything left. Her eyes smarted from so much weeping. All she wanted to do was put her head down on the table and retreat inside herself. And she didn't think she could bear another second of Meg regarding her with sisterly concern.
“He's here,” Meg said darkly.
“Who?” But Lisa knew exactly who Meg was talking about. Her heart began to thud even before she saw him in the doorway. Matt, scanning the room as if searching for her.
“I can't believe he'd have the nerve,” Meg said.
All Lisa could do was watch as Matt made his way toward their table. To her, it seemed as if everyone else in the place just faded away, becoming a muted backdrop to Matt, a dark-haired, unsmiling man who looked altogether too good in the blue-gray jacket that matched the color of his eyes. Not that Matt would have chosen the jacket for that purpose. No doubt it was the only jacket he owned; he'd probably had it for years, and used it only when the occasion demanded.
He kept his eyes on Lisa as he moved toward her, and a flame seemed to burn between the two of them, a current of understanding. Maybe you can't love me, Matt, but you can't stay away from me, either. Just as I can't stay away from you. She would never say the words out loud, she would not need to say them. Because Matt, his eyes never leaving hers, surely knew what she was thinking.
Abruptly the spell broke. As Matt passed the table where Helene was sitting, she turned and spoke to him. He answered her. The conversation continued. And then Helene stood, tucked her hand into Matt's arm and walked out onto the dance floor with him. Bizarre as it might seem to Lisa, her very own mother was waltzing with Matt Connell.
“Look at that,” Meg said from beside Lisa. “He's trying to butter up Mom.”
“Don't be ridiculous.”
“What else would you call it?”
Lisa propped her elbows on the table, wearily rubbing her temples. “I wish Amy and Jon had eloped,” she said. “They would have saved us all endless aggravation.”
“Will you look at that,” Meg said.
Lisa glanced up. She saw Matt and Jon change partners. Now Matt was waltzing with Amy, and Jon with Helene.
“The whole family's welcoming him with open arms,” Meg said. “If they only knew—”
“Meg,” Lisa said urgently. “They can't know! I shouldn't even have told you. It just—came out. Promise me you won't say a thing.”
Meg looked reluctant, but at last she nodded.
The dance ended, partners reshuffled and Matt somehow ended up alone. He came toward Lisa, and this time he reached her. For a second or two, gazing up at him, she seemed to have lost the art of conversation. But then, somehow, she recovered herself.
“Matt, I don't believe you've met my sister. Megan.
“We've seen each other around,” Meg said, a frosty edge to her voice. Lisa gave her sister a beseeching look. Meg finally shrugged. “I'll leave you two alone,” she said grudgingly, and went off.
Matt remained standing. “Would you like to dance, Lisa?”
“Funny, but we've never danced together,” she murmured. “You never took me to the prom, or anything like that.”
Matt didn't say anything. It seemed he had the gift of silence—he never answered a comment that didn't need answering. Lisa rose, and allowed him to escort her onto the dance floor. They moved naturally into each other's arms. She placed her hand on Matt's shoulder, the texture of his jacket nubby underneath her fingers.
“You've been crying,” he said at last.
“It's only natural to cry at your sister's wedding,” Lisa answered automatically. Meg would have been proud of her.
Matt didn't pursue the subject. He simply drew her closer as the romantic music drifted over them. Lisa wished she could remain like this forever, suspended in his arms, feeling his closeness, not having to think about all the barriers between them. But the barriers were there. They refused to be ignored.
The dance wasn't over yet, but Lisa pulled herself away from Matt. She turned and escaped to her table, trembling so deeply that she knew she had to sit down this instant. Yet she couldn't prevent herself from looking at Matt again. He had started to follow her, but then Meg approached him. They spoke a few words, and moved together onto the dance floor.
Lisa couldn't stop staring. Meg had made it very clear that she disapproved of Matt. So why on earth was she two-stepping around the floor with him? The two seemed engaged in a rather intense conversation. It got so intense that after a few moments they stopped moving. They just stood there in the middle of the other dancers.
What happened next almost seemed to occur in slow motion. Meg—calm, unruffled Meg—raised her hand and very deliberately slapped Matt across the face. That accomplished, Meg swiveled and walked away from Matt Connell, her head held high.