Somewhere outside, a goldfinch was singing. Or maybe it was a song sparrow. My dad had tried to teach me the different kinds of bird songs, but I couldn’t quite remember.
The sky was gray. It wasn’t raining yet. But any minute now, it was going to pour. It was like any other morning in Cousins Beach. Except it wasn’t, because I was getting married.
I was reasonably sure I was getting married. The only thing was, I had no idea where Jeremiah had gone or if he was even coming back.
I was sitting at the vanity mirror in my pink bathrobe, trying to curl my hair. Taylor was at the beauty salon, and she’d tried to persuade me to get mine done there too, but I’d said no. The only time I ever got my hair done, I hated the way it looked. Like a beauty pageant contestant, stiff and high. I didn’t look like me. I thought that today of all days, I should look like me.
There was a knock at the door.
“Come in,” I said, trying to fix a curl that had already gone limp.
The door opened. It was my mother. She was already dressed. She was wearing a suit jacket and linen pants and was carrying a lemon yellow envelope. I recognized it right away: Susannah’s personal stationery. It was so like her. I wished I was worthy of it. It hurt to think that I had let her down like this. What would she say if she knew?
My mother closed the door behind her. “Do you want me to help?” she asked.
I handed her the curling iron. She set down the letter on my dresser. She stood behind me, sectioning my hair off into thirds. “Did Taylor do your makeup? It looks nice.”
“Yeah, she did. Thanks. You look really nice too.”
“I’m not ready for this,” she said.
I looked at her in the mirror, winding my hair around the barrel, her head down. My mother was beautiful to me in that moment.
She put her hands on my shoulders and looked at me in the mirror. “This isn’t what I wanted for you. But I’m here. This is your wedding day. My only daughter.”
I reached over my shoulder and took her hand. She squeezed my hand tight, so tight it hurt. I wanted to confide in her, to confess that things were a mess, that I didn’t even know where Jeremiah was or if I would be getting married after all. But it had taken her so long to get here, and if I raised one single doubt now, that would be more than enough for her to put an end to it. She would throw me over her shoulder and carry me away from this whole wedding.
So all that came out was, “Thank you, Mommy.”
“You’re welcome,” she said. She looked over toward my window. “Do you think the weather will hold?”
“I don’t know. I hope so.”
“Well, if worst comes to worst, we’ll move the wedding inside. No big shakes.” Then she handed me the letter. “Susannah wanted you to have this on your wedding day.”
My mother kissed me on the top of my head and walked out of the room.
I picked up the letter, ran my fingers along my name, written in Susannah’s smooth cursive. Then I put it back down on the dresser. Not yet.
There was a knock at the door. “Who is it?” I asked.
“Steven.”
“Come in.”
The door opened, and Steven came in, closing it behind him. He was wearing the white linen shirt and khaki shorts all the groomsmen were wearing. “Hey,” he said, sitting down on my bed. “Your hair looks nice.”
“Is he back?”
Steven hesitated.
“Just tell me, Steven.”
“No. He’s not back. Conrad went off to find him. He thinks he knows where Jere went.”
I let out a breath. I was relieved, but at the same time—what would Jeremiah do when he saw Conrad? What if it only made things worse?
“He’s going to call as soon as he finds him.”
I nodded, then picked up the curling iron again. My fingers trembled, and I had to steady my hand so I wouldn’t burn my cheek.
“Did you tell Mom anything?” Steven asked.
“No. I haven’t told anybody. So far there’s nothing to tell.” I wound a piece of hair around the barrel. “He’ll be here. I know he will.” And I mostly believed it.
“Yeah,” Steven said. “Yeah, I’m sure you’re right. Do you want me to stay with you?”
I shook my head. “I need to get ready.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. Just let me know as soon as you hear something.”
Steven stood up. “I will.” Then he came over and patted my shoulder awkwardly. “Everything’s going to work out, Belly.”
“Yup, I know it will. Don’t worry about me. Just find Jere.”
As soon as he was gone, I set the curling iron down again. My hand was shaking. I would probably burn myself if I didn’t give it a rest. My hair was curled enough anyway.
He was coming back. He was coming back. I knew he was.
And then, because there was nothing left to do, I put on my wedding dress.
I was sitting at the window, watching my dad string Christmas lights on the back porch, when Taylor burst into the room.
Her hair was in an updo, and it looked tight around her forehead. She was carrying a brown paper bag and an ice coffee. “Okay, so, I brought lunch, Anika’s helping your mom set the tables up, and this weather isn’t doing my hair any favors,” Taylor announced, all in one breath. “And I don’t know how to tell you this, but I’m pretty sure I felt a raindrop on the way inside.” Then she said, “Why are you already in your dress? There’s still loads of time before the wedding. Take it off. It’s going to get all wrinkly.”
When I didn’t answer her, she asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Jeremiah isn’t here,” I said.
“Well, of course he isn’t here, dummy. It’s bad luck to see the bride before the ceremony.”
“He’s not at home. He left last night, and he hasn’t come back.” My voice was surprisingly calm. “I told him everything.”
Her eyes bulged. “What do you mean, everything?”
“The other day, Conrad told me he still has feelings for me. And last night, I told Jeremiah.” I let out a breath that was more like a gasp. These past couple of days had felt like weeks. I didn’t even know when or how it all happened. How things got so confused. It was jumbling up in my mind, my heart.
“Oh my God,” Taylor said, covering her mouth with her hands. She sank down onto the bed. “What are we going to do?”
“Conrad went looking for him.” I was looking out the window again. My dad was finished with the porch, and he’d moved on to the bushes. I came away from the window and started unzipping my dress.
Startled, she said, “What are you doing?”
“You said it’s going to wrinkle, remember?” I stepped out of the dress, and it slipped to the floor, a silky white puddle. And then I picked it up and put it on a hanger.
Taylor put my robe over my shoulders, and then she turned me around and tied the sash for me like I was a little girl. “It’s going to be okay, Belly.”
Someone knocked on the door, and both our eyes flew over to it. “It’s Steven,” my brother said, opening it. He came in and shut the door behind him. “Conrad got him back.”
I sank onto the floor and let out a big gust of air. “He’s back,” I repeated.
Steven said, “He’s showering, and then he’ll be dressed and ready to go. Go get married, I mean. Not leave again.”
Taylor knelt down next to me. Perched on her knees, she grabbed my hand and entwined my fingers with hers. “Your hand is cold,” she said, warming it with her other hand. Then she said, “Do you still want to do this? You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. I had been so scared he wasn’t going to go come back. Now that he was here, all the fear and panic were rising up to the surface.
Steven sat next to me and Taylor on the floor. He put his arm around me, and he said, “Belly. Take this however you want to take it, okay? I have five words for you. Are you ready?”
I opened my eyes and nodded.
Very solemnly he said, “Go big or go home.”
“What the hell does that even mean, Steven?” Taylor snapped.
A laugh escaped from deep down in my chest. “Go big or go home? Go big or go home.” I was laughing so hard, tears were running down my cheeks.
Taylor jumped up. “Your makeup!”
She grabbed the box of tissues on the dresser and wiped my face delicately. I was still laughing. “Snap out of it, Conklin,” Taylor said, shooting a worried look at my brother. The flower in her hair was askew. She was right: the humidity wasn’t doing her hair any favors.
Steven said, “Aw, she’s fine. She’s just having a laugh. Right, Belly?”
“Go big or go home,” I repeated, giggling.
“I think she’s hysterical or something. Should I slap her?” Taylor asked my brother.
“No, I’ll do it,” he said, advancing toward me.
I stopped laughing. I wasn’t hysterical. Or maybe I was, a little bit. “I’m fine, you guys! Nobody gets to slap me. Geez.” I stood up. “What time is it?”
Steven pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. “It’s two o’clock. We still have a couple of hours before people get here.”
Taking a deep breath, I said, “Okay. Steven, will you go tell Mom I think we should move the wedding inside? If we push the couches to the side, we can probably fit a couple of the tables in the living room.”
“I’ll get the other guys on it,” he said.
“Thanks, Stevie. And Taylor, will you—”
Hopefully, she asked, “Stay and fix your makeup?”
“No. I was going to ask if you could get out too. I need to think.”
Exchanging looks, the two of them shuffled out of my room, and I shut the door behind them.
As soon as I saw him, everything would make sense again. It had to.
