Then, from downstairs, came the sound of the string quartet composed of Leo's friends.
"It's time," said Sarah. "Lucy, are you ready?"
Lucy nodded. She still felt calm. A little breathless, maybe. "I just need the flowers." She was to carry three long-stemmed white roses, which had been carefully stripped of their thorns and tied with blue ribbon that matched the confection fastened to Pierre's collar.
"We'll see you downstairs, then." Carrie left, almost running.
And then, at the open doorway, was Leo, in his formal, threadbare tuxedo jacket, the one he'd been wearing for many years for New Year's Eve gigs.
"Hi, Dad," Lucy said.
Leo didn't speak. After a single second of staring, he held out his arms. Lucy ran into them and got her dress thoroughly smashed. She hugged hard, but Leo hugged harder, and it seemed like a long time before he let go. "Well, then," he said. He shuffled his feet and cocked his head toward the music. "Joey forgot his reading glasses," he whispered. "That's why the viola part's a little off. Sorry."
"Jazz man playing Vivaldi, what else would we expect?" Lucy whispered back. "I like it."
Soledad interrupted. "We have to line up," she said tensely, her voice equally low. "Sarah? Ready?"
Sarah looked at Lucy. "Ready?"
Lucy gazed into the three—no, four—pairs of eyes that were fastened on her. For a moment she imagined that Miranda was there too, a ghostly presence. If she could have wished for one more thing, that would have been it. But Miranda had disappeared again, a few days ago. Right off the grounds of McLean Hospital. It made Lucy feel horrible.
But there was nothing to be done about it.
"Yes," Lucy said. "I'm ready."
They assembled on the landing. First Sarah, led by Pierre. Then Lucy, with her parents on either side of her.
The music below changed. "See you in a few minutes," Sarah whispered. Lifting her long blue velvet skirt, she was gone, moving as gracefully as possible down the staircase, given that Pierre was yanking at his leash.
Lucy could hear her parents breathing on either side of her. She stole a glance at each of them. Soledad's profile was pale, her mouth a little shaky. Leo was looking at her. Then both of them were.
"I've invited some extra people," Soledad whispered suddenly. "Just so you're warned. Just a few more people."
"That's okay, Mom. I told you that you could have whoever you want."
"Just so you're not surprised when we get down there, that you don't know everybody."
The music altered again. A single cello played. This was music that Leo himself had written, and it was jazzy, joyful. It had a beat. Hearing it made Lucy feel even calmer, more serene.
She was marrying Zachary Greenfield. Her friend. Her lover?
Her lover.
She was ready.
She grabbed Soledad and Leo on ether side of her. "Thank you," she whispered. Soledad swallowed a sob. But then Lucy's grasp was returned. And Leo's grip never faltered.
Together, they started down the stairs to the music.
CHAPTER 45
The Markowitzes' living and dining room area had nearly thirty guests crammed into it, not counting the string quartet, which had set itself up in the alcove before the bay window, or the people from the caterer, who had taken over the kitchen. Most of the guests were already seated on the borrowed folding chairs that had been placed in lopsided rows before the lit fireplace.
Not one more chair could be squeezed in, Zach thought. He tried to talk sensibly to one of Leo's musician friends while his little sister, Gina, clung to his pants leg. With her other hand, Gina clutched her basket of pink and white rose petals. From time to time, she looked ecstatically down at the basket or at her pink taffeta skirt. Gina was seven. Being in a pink dress with a petticoat and given the commission to scatter rose petals on the floor, while music played and everybody looked at her, was simply a dream come true.
At least he'd made one member of his family happy.
"And do you know Father Costas?" said Leo's friend, as a tall, thin man in a clerical collar approached them. "He's from my church. Greek Orthodox," he added helpfully.
"No, we haven't met before," said Zach. "Uh, welcome. Thanks for coming." He shook hands with Father Costas. He sneaked another look across the room. Yes, the justice of the peace, Mrs. Pamela Benoit, a mature woman in a sensible suit, was right there, chatting with Soledad's friend Jacqueline and with another tall guy, a very handsome dark man with blue eyes and a certain arrogance, who Zach in his distraction couldn't quite place but knew he had met before, somewhere, sometime.
Mrs. Benoit was performing the civil ceremony. Zach and Lucy had decided together on a civil ceremony instead of a religious one. Zach wasn't sure what he believed, while Lucy hadn't been raised as a formal member of any religion, due to the fact that her foster parents had two different sets of beliefs and nobody knew what, if anything, Miranda thought.
This Father Costas was the seventh member of the clergy that Zach had been introduced to in the last twenty minutes. Three of them made sense, sort of. Like Leo inviting his rabbi, and Zach's parents having asked the minister from their old church, and Soledad bringing a Catholic priest who was apparently a chaplain at the hospital and a friend of hers. Okay, so nobody in either family had ever been particularly religious before. Still, he could understand those three guests.
But who was that swami guy who was now sitting calmly in a chair at the back? And there was an Episcopal priest, a woman, around here someplace too; Zach wasn't sure who had brought her. Someone else again had brought an imam, a short fellow with quiet, deep eyes. And now the Greek Orthodox guy.
Had the parental units told all their friends to bring whatever members of the clergy they could hunt down, lasso, and drag along?
Now that swami guy was looking straight at Zach as he stood in his new gray suit, with the seamless vest thing that Lucy had made hidden underneath, and a blue tie around his neck that was maybe a little tight. The swami was nodding and smiling. Zach nodded and smiled back. What else could he do?
He could feel another set of eyes studying him steadily. It was the tall dark man, the one that Jacqueline Jackson had brought, the arrogant one who looked familiar. This man was not smiling. Could he be yet another minister or rabbi or priest or mullah or yogi or whatever? Zach looked away uneasily. He did know that guy. He was sure he had met that guy before. He just couldn't remember exactly.
He was suddenly feeling a little lightheaded. The seamless shirt itched. And it was hot. He'd known it would be; he'd decided on impulse to put it on anyway. Call it superstition, but Lucy had made it on the day he'd proposed to her, and it had been made using the classic Red Sox T-shirt he'd given her when she was seven, and he wanted to wear it. He hadn't told anyone, even Lucy, but if she was going to make anything for her true love, it was going to be for him.
Now he wondered if it had been a mistake. Would he start sweating during the ceremony? Should he run upstairs and take it off?
No. Something in him rebelled. The seamless shirt thing was staying. He was going to get married in it, even if he poured out a river of sweat in the process.
With that decision made, he felt a little steadier. No, much steadier. He looked over again at the strange guy whose name he ought to know, and nodded and waved as if he did remember him. He tugged at his tie to get another half inch of neck freedom. The musicians were tuning their instruments now, and people were taking seats. It must nearly be time.
Yes. He felt a hand on his upper arm. It was Leo, who didn't say a word, just patted him, and moved on, mounting the stairs. And here came his mother, passing Leo on the stairs as she descended, and collecting his father on the way. They came up to him.
All the guests were now seated. Mrs. Benoit had moved into position in front of the fireplace. It was suddenly extremely quiet. You could hear the crackling of the fire.
"Well," said Nate Greenfield to his son. He looked grim but determined. "
Ready?"
Zach said simply, "Yeah."
And then the musicians were playing.
Gina was like a cork released from a champagne bottle. She bounced around the living room, gloriously out of rhythm with the music, scattering flower petals with the force of a pitcher at Fenway Park. She did not stop until her basket was empty, and then she threw herself into her chair, beaming.
Next was Sarah Hebert, who was pulled precipitously down the stairs by Pierre. Pierre had been professionally groomed in a classic poodle cut the day before and looked positively Parisian; a ripple of amusement went through all the guests as they saw him. Sarah's eyes too were laughing, and she waved at Zach as she crossed the room to stand just opposite him.
Here, things went a little off-kilter, as Pierre, though instructed to sit, did not. Instead, he strained at his lead, apparently wanting to take off into the chairs toward Jacqueline Jackson and her handsome friend. Pierre was growling a little in his throat. But Sarah set her teeth, reached down with one firm hand, and somehow forced the dog to sit, though he remained alert and tense.
Then Zach forgot all about Pierre, and Sarah, and even about his parents beside him.
There, on the staircase.
There she was.
Suddenly it was as if he had a fever, as if everything he was seeing and hearing was happening at a distance or through smoke. As if nothing that was happening was entirely real. He even felt slightly deaf. Afterward, he knew the music had continued, but he couldn't remember hearing it. What was in his eyes filled his ears as well. Filled all of his senses.
Luce. Lucy. Lucinda.
He knew that Soledad and Leo were beside her, as his parents were beside him. He could see them, but also he couldn't. It was only Lucy that he saw. And yes, she was in some billow of an ivory gown, with lace falling over her hair and shoulders, and yes, she looked … well. He couldn't say. He almost forgot how to breathe. She was simply more Lucy than ever. There weren't any words that could describe her.
Just her name.
Even in his stupor, he knew what was supposed to happen next. They had rehearsed. The Markowitzes would come down the staircase, in time with the music, escorting Lucy across the room to the area before the fireplace, where the wedding ceremony would take place.
But as Zach looked at Lucy, he saw the tiniest of frowns appear on her forehead, and the smallest bit of confusion cross her face. Then she swayed, even though her parents were on either side of her, holding her. Her eyes began to wander around the room below, scanning the guests …
Panic gripped Zach. Then blind instinct took over. He had to—had to—quickly—
He shook off his parents. He crossed the room in three strides. Then he was halfway up the staircase, reaching both hands out to Lucy. He said her name.
Her gaze snapped back to him. Their eyes locked. Then Lucy gently shook off her parents' hands, as Zach had his. She reached down to him. The roses she'd been carrying fell unheeded to the steps.
Her hands were bare, ungloved. Their hands were skin on skin.
The world steadied. The mist on both their minds cleared.
Zach could hear the music clearly now. It was a single cello. It danced and throbbed like a heart. It was filled with glee.
From two steps below her, Zach looked into Lucy's eyes, and Lucy looked right back into Zach's.
She grinned. It was a lopsided grin, a little shamefaced. "I got dizzy for a second," she whispered. "I don't know why."
"I know. Me too. It's all right now, though."
"Yes."
Their hands stayed clasped. Zach didn't think he could let go. Rehearsal or no rehearsal. Plans or no plans. He could see Lucy having the same thought. She cast a little look over her shoulder at her parents.
Leo cleared his throat and nudged his wife. They went back up a stair.
The ceremony moved on, almost as smoothly as if the change had been planned. Lucy came down two steps to stand beside Zach, taking one of his arms while their other hands remained clasped. Behind Lucy, Soledad stooped to retrieve Lucy's lost flowers. Then she and Leo regrouped themselves into a couple.
The music altered as the musicians hastily improvised a bridge. Two violins played as Lucy and Zach walked, together, across the room to stand before the justice of the peace and become husband and wife, in accordance with the law of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, and witnessed by their family, friends, and assorted clergy of various denominations.
Plus one large black standard poodle, who, a split second after the handclasp between Zach and Lucy, had suddenly relaxed and chosen to lounge contentedly on the warm tiles before the fireplace, seeming to watch and listen as attentively as anyone when the ceremony began with Soledad and Leo reading aloud together from I Corinthians:
"Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always preserves."
No one noticed that, at the same point at which Pierre relaxed—the moment on the stairs when Zach and Lucy clasped hands—the tall, dark, handsome man who had been sitting with Jacqueline got up and walked out. He was in none of the pictures, and later on, nobody, not even Jacqueline, ever remembered that he had been there at all.
CHAPTER 46
"I hope you like this house, Luce." Zach seemed to be having trouble locating the correct key. "I think it's a really nice place. Three bedrooms. Two bathrooms. Really cheap too, because the owners know my parents and trust us to take good care of it while they're away. They even have cleaners coming in every two weeks. For which, uh, we're paying, of course."
He had told Lucy this before. But they were alone now; truly alone, and had been married for five whole hours. And this was their honeymoon, even though Lucy had decided against a short honeymoon trip.
"You're sure?" Zach had asked. He had shown her websites of nearby places. Bed-and-breakfasts on Cape Cod, in the Berkshires, and on the North Shore. A mountain cabin by a lake in New Hampshire. "We could manage a few days. I don't want you to feel like you're missing anything."
"I don't feel that way." Lucy had wondered if he was the one who didn't want to miss having a formal honeymoon. If so, she didn't want to disappoint him. So she'd looked carefully at one website about a country inn located in Woodstock, Vermont. There were photos. A cozy table set for two before a roaring fire. A chocolate truffle on a pillow. A very large and inviting four-poster bed with its coverlet turned down.
She'd looked up to see Zach examining the images over her shoulder.
"It's only three hours to go there. Maybe less." His voice had gone hoarse. "If you like it."
"I do like it," Lucy admitted.
He'd looked straight into her eyes. "Then—"
"But it's just two minutes to our own new place," she'd said. "Where it'll be completely private. Nobody but us."
She had mostly been thinking about money, and also that they couldn't spare the time from the puzzle. And about people maybe staring at them, so obviously teenagers—well, Zach was not technically a teenager—and her pregnant. But as the words came out of her mouth, she realized that they conveyed something else too. And then she had had to look away from Zach.
But she heard him breathing.
And she felt herself breathing.
"Okay," he'd said. "Honeymoon privacy at our place it is."
And now they were at that house, only a few blocks away from where they had both grown up. But it might as well have been another state. Another country. Lucy's pulse was racing, as if she had been jumping up and down rather than standing quite still on the porch.
The silence between them, as Zach fumbled with the key, was suddenly unbearable.
"Don't tell them at school that I'm actually living over the city line," Lucy said. "They might tell me I had to swap schools, which would be a seriously not-goo
d thing."
Zach had found the correct key and gotten it into the lock, but instead of opening the door, he pivoted back to Lucy, sudden panic in his eyes. "That never occurred to me."
Lucy backtracked hastily. "Don't give it another thought. The administration won't ever know. Even if they did, now that I think about it, I'm sure I'd be allowed to finish out my senior year." All at once she was out of control, and babbling. "Actually, I remember last year somebody did that. But anyway, it won't come up, because I don't plan to give them my new official address. I'll still be getting school mail at—at Leo and Soledad's."
She had started to say at home. But this pretty Victorian house, with its wide front porch and its blue door, was home now, for the next few months.
"Okay," Zach said. "If you're sure."
"I'm sure."
Zach got the door open. Inside, a few lights were on, burning softly, because Zach had been here earlier to turn them on. A wave of warmth came toward them. Lucy stepped forward, but Zach stopped her. He held out his arms. "Threshold?"
Her pulse hammered. "Are you sure? I weigh—"
"I'm strong."
Lucy saw Zach's intent face for one instant as he leaned in and gathered her to him, one of his arms moving beneath her knees, the other closing firmly around her back. She looped an arm around his neck as he swung her up. She had a wonderfully girly moment in which she was glad she was still in her wedding dress. The lacy skirt swished and frothed over Zach's arm. It was delicious.
It didn't even matter that she was wearing Soledad's old khaki snow parka on top.
Zach hadn't lied. She could feel his strength in his arms, his torso, and in the confident way he held her. And his body was warm, so warm. The warmth radiated through his clothes and hers. They were inside the house now. Inside their home. She had hardly noticed the transition. Zach maneuvered the door shut behind him with his foot and stood there, in the bright, pretty little foyer.
He did not put Lucy down. His face was inches from hers. His nose was a breath away. And his mouth.