The speeches were over, and everyone had gone outside and started milling around the garden.
“What kind of flowers do you want for the wedding?” Jeremiah asked me in a low voice.
I smiled and shrugged. “Pretty ones?” What did I know about flowers? What did I know about weddings, for that matter? I hadn’t been to many, only my cousin Beth’s that time I was a flower girl and our neighbor’s. But I liked this game we were playing. It was like pretend, but real.
Then I saw him. Standing there in the back was Conrad, in a gray suit. I stared, and he lifted his hand in a wave. I lifted mine, but I didn’t move. Couldn’t move.
Next to me, I heard Jeremiah clear his throat. I started. I’d forgotten he was standing next to me. For thosecouple of seconds, I forgot everything.
Then Mr. Fisher was pushing past us, striding over to him. They embraced. My mother swept Conrad into her arms, then my brother came up from behind and pounded him on the back. Jeremiah made his way over too.
I was last. I found myself walking over to them. “Hi,” I said. I didn’t know what to do with my hands. I left them at my sides.
He said, “Hi.” Then he opened his arms up wide and gave me a look that was a lot like a dare. Hesitantly, I stepped into them. He crushed me in a bear hug and lifted me off the ground a little. I squealed and held down my skirt. Everyone laughed. When Conrad set me back down, I moved closer to Jere. He wasn’t laughing.
“Conrad’s glad to have his little sister around again,” Mr. Fisher said in a jovial kind of way. I wondered if he even knew that Conrad and I had once dated. Probably not. It had only been six months. It was nothing compared to the time Jeremiah and I had spent together.
“How have you been, little sis?” Conrad asked. He had that look on his face. Part mocking, part mischievous. I knew that look; I’d seen it so many times.
“Great,” I said, looking at Jeremiah. “We’re really great.”
Jeremiah didn’t look back at me. Instead he pulled his phone out of his pocket and said, “I’m starving.” I could feel a little knot in my stomach. Was he mad at me?
“Let’s get some pictures by the garden before we go,” my mother said.
Mr. Fisher clapped his hands and rubbed them together. Putting his arms around Jeremiah and Conrad, he said, “I want a picture with the Fishermen!” which made us all laugh—this time Jeremiah, too. That was one of Mr. Fisher’s oldest and corniest jokes. Whenever he and the boys would come back from fishing trips, he would yell, “The Fishermen have returned!”
By Susannah’s rose garden, we took pictures of Jeremiah and Mr. Fisher and Conrad, then one with Steven, too, then one with me and my mother and Steven and Jeremiah—all sorts of combinations. Jere said, “I want one of just me and Belly,” and I was relieved. We stood in front of the roses, and right before my mother snapped the picture, Jeremiah kissed me on the cheek.
“That’s a nice one,” my mother said. Then she said, “Let’s have one of all the kids.”
We stood together—Jeremiah, Conrad, me, Steven. Conrad slung his arm around Jeremiah’s and my shoulders. It was all like no time had passed. The summer kids together again.
I rode with Jeremiah to the restaurant. My mother and Steven took one car, Mr. Fisher and Conrad both drove separately.
“Maybe we shouldn’t tell them today,” I said suddenly. “Maybe we should wait.”
Jeremiah turned down the music. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. Maybe today should just be about Susannah, and family. Maybe we should wait.”
“I don’t want to have to wait. You and me getting married is about family. It’s about our two families coming together. As one.” Grinning, he grabbed my hand and lifted it in the air. “I want you to be able to wear your ring, right now, loud and proud.”
“I am loud and proud,” I said.
“Then let’s just do it like we planned.”
“Okay.”
As we pulled into the restaurant parking lot, Jeremiah said to me, “Don’t have hurt feelings if—you know, if he says anything.”
I blinked. “Who?”
“My dad. You know how he is. You can’t take it personally, okay?”
I nodded.
We walked into the restaurant holding hands. Everyone else was already there and seated at a round table.
I sat down, Jeremiah on my left and my brother on my right. I grabbed the bread basket and took a roll. I smeared it with butter before I stuffed most of it into my mouth.
Steven shook his head at me. Pig, he mouthed.
Glaring at him, I said, “I didn’t eat breakfast.”
“I ordered a bunch of appetizers,” Mr. Fisher told me.
“Thanks, Mr. Fisher,” I said, my mouth partly full.
He smiled. “Belly, we’re all adults here. I think you should call me Adam now. No more Mr. Fisher.”
Underneath the table, Jeremiah gave my thigh a squeeze. I almost laughed out loud. Then I had another thought—like, was I going to have to call Mr. Fisher “Dad” after we were married? I would have to talk to Jeremiah about that one.
“I’ll try,” I said. Mr. Fisher looked at me expectantly, and I added, “Adam.”
Steven asked Conrad, “So why don’t you ever leave California?”
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
“Yeah, for, like, the first time since you left, practically.” Steven nudged him and lowered his voice. “You got a girl out there?”
“No,” Conrad said. “No girl.”
The champagne arrived then, and when all our glasses were full, Mr. Fisher tapped his knife to his glass. “I’d like to make a toast,” he said.
My mother rolled her eyes just barely. Mr. Fisher was famous for making speeches, but today actually called for one.
“I want to thank everyone for coming together today to celebrate Susannah. It’s a special day, and I’m glad we can share it together.” Mr. Fisher lifted his glass. “To Suz.”
Nodding, my mother said, “To Beck.”
We all clinked glasses and drank, and before I could put mine down, Jeremiah gave me this look like, Get ready, it’s happening.
My stomach lurched. I took another gulp of my champagne and nodded.
“I have something to say,” Jeremiah announced.
While everyone was waiting to hear what it was, I snuck a look over at Conrad. He had his arm draped over the back of Steven’s chair, and they’d been laughing about something. His face was easy and relaxed.
I had this wild impulse to stop Jeremiah, to clap my hand over his mouth and keep him from saying it. Everybody was so happy. This was going to wreck it.
“I’ll just go ahead and warn you—it’s really good news.” Jeremiah flashed a smile at everyone, and I braced myself. He was being too glib, I thought. My mother wouldn’t like that. “I asked Belly to marry me, and she said yes. She said yes! We’re getting married this August!”
It was like the restaurant got really quiet all of a sudden, like all the noise and chatter got sucked out of the room. Everything just stopped. I looked across the table, at my mother. Her face was ashen. Steven choked on the water he was drinking. Coughing, he said, “What the?” And Conrad, his face was completely blank.
It was surreal.
The waiter came by then with the appetizers—calamari and cocktail shrimp and a tower of oysters. “Are you guys ready to order your entrees?” he asked, rearranging the table so there was room for everything.
His voice tight, Mr. Fisher said, “I think we need a few more minutes,” and glanced at my mother.
She looked dazed. She opened, then closed her mouth. Then she looked right at me and asked, “Are you pregnant?”
I felt all the blood rush to my cheeks. Beside me, I could feel rather than hear Jeremiah choke.
My mother’s voice shook as she said shrilly, “I don’t believe this. How many times have we discussed contraception, Isabel?”
I could not have been more mortified. I looked at Mr. Fisher, who was beet red, and then I looked at the waiter, who was pouring water for the table next to ours. Our eyes met. I was pretty sure he’d been in my psychology class. “Mom, I’m not pregnant!”
Earnestly, Jeremiah said, “Laurel, I swear to you it’s nothing like that.”
My mother ignored him. She looked only at me. “Then what is happening here? Where is this coming from?”
My lips felt really dry all of a sudden. Fleetingly, I thought of what had led up to Jeremiah’s proposal, and just as quickly the thought flitted away. None of that mattered anymore. What mattered was that we were in love. I said, “We want to get married, Mom.”
“You’re too young,” she said in a flat voice. “You’re both far too young.”
Jeremiah coughed. “Laur, we love each other, and we want to be together.”
“You are together,” my mother snapped. Then she turned to Mr. Fisher, her eyes narrowed. “Did you know about this?”
“Calm down, Laurel. They’re joking. You were joking, right?”
Jere and I shared a look before he said in a soft voice, “No, we’re not joking.”
My mother swallowed the rest of her champagne, emptying her glass. “You two are not getting married, period. You’re both still in school, for God’s sake. It’s ridiculous.”
Clearing his throat, Mr. Fisher said, “Maybe after you kids both graduate, we can discuss it again.”
“A few years after you graduate,” my mother put in.
“Right,” Mr. Fisher said.
“Dad…,” Jeremiah began.
The server was back at Mr. Fisher’s shoulder before Jeremiah could finish whatever it was he was going to say. He just stood there for a moment looking awkward before asking, “Do you have any questions about the menu? Or, ah, are we just doing appetizers today?”
“We’ll just take the check,” my mother said, tight lipped.
There was all this food on the table and no one was touching it, no one was saying anything. I was right before. This was a mistake, a tactical error of epic proportions. We never should have told them like this. Now they were a team, united against us. We barely got a word in edgewise.
I reached into my purse, and under the tablecloth, I put my engagement ring on. It was the only thing I could think to do. When I reached for my water glass, Jeremiah saw the ring and squeezed my knee again. My mother saw too—her eyes flashed, and she looked away.
Mr. Fisher paid the bill, and for once my mother didn’t argue. We all stood up. Quickly, Steven filled a cloth napkin with shrimp. And then we were leaving, me trailing my mother, Jeremiah following Mr. Fisher. Behind me, I heard Steven whispering to Conrad. “Holy shit, man. This is crazy. Did you know about this?”
I heard Conrad tell him no. Outside, he hugged my mother good-bye and then got in his car and drove away. He didn’t look back once.
When we got to our car, I asked my mother very quietly, “Can I have the keys?”
“What for?”
I wet my lips. “I need to get my book bag out of the trunk. I’m going with Jeremiah, remember?”
I could see my mother struggle to hold her temper. She said, “No, you’re not. You’re coming home with us.”
“But Mom—”
Before I could finish, she’d already handed the keys to Steven and climbed into the passenger seat. She closed the door.
I looked at Jeremiah helplessly. Mr. Fisher was already in his car, and Jeremiah was hanging back, waiting. More than anything, I wished I could leave with him. I was really, really scared to get into the car with my mother.
I was in trouble like I had never known.
“Get in the car, Belly,” Steven said. “Don’t make it worse.”
“You’d better go,” Jeremiah said.
I ran over to him and hugged him tight. “I’ll call you tonight,” he whispered into my hair.
“If I’m still alive,” I whispered back.
Then I walked away from him and climbed into the backseat.
Steven started the car, his napkin a white bundle in his lap. My mother caught my eye in the rearview mirror and said, “You’re returning that ring, Isabel.”
If I backed down now, everything was lost. I had to be strong.
“I’m not returning it,” I said.
