the edge of the crystal flute.
Before long, not remembering asking or accepting, Jake found himself waltzing with Aunt Helen and wondering why in the hell he hadn’t left yet. Two more beers and an hour later he was still asking that same question. He reminded himself his aunt had a ride home. Spotting her now halfway across the room, she seemed to be having the time of her life without his help. So what strange, masochistic impulse kept him in this place? It was too late to head down to Tiger Stadium. But that wasn’t it. For some unknown reason he wanted to see this through to the end.
After awhile he lost track of the newly weds and just went with the flow. Unattached males were in a minority so he found himself on the dance floor often, doing his basic clutch-and-shuffle, more than once with the tipsy blond bridesmaid who propped her Dolly Parton’s on his chest for balance.
About eleven Jake sat one out, idly wondering where Dolly had gone but not really caring. He glanced around and spotted Catherine gliding gracefully across the dance floor, sans hubby. The temptation was stronger than ever to ask her for a dance. Why not? Every other guy in the room had had a whirl. Instead Jake slouched in his chair. He didn’t trust himself. If he ever got her in his arms he’d tell her what a colossal mistake she was making—probably not what a bride wanted to hear on her wedding night. He continued to watch, unable to take his eyes off her as she approached the bandstand. The minister slowed her progress, but only momentarily. She snatched the paper he held in his hand, then moved purposefully to the microphone.
Slowly Catherine turned, the rosy glow in her cheeks all but gone. She motioned for the band to stop playing. “I want to thank you for coming.” She paused and sucked in air. “You’re all welcome to stay and enjoy yourselves for as long as you like…but I’m leaving.”
As the crowd quieted, the nervous bride seemed to be stretching herself taller, mustering courage. Jake straightened in his chair, sensing something had run amok.
Then it hit him.
She’d said I’m leaving, not we’re. Where was Studly? Quickly Jake scanned the room while the bride continued.
“If you brought a gift tonight, please take it home with you.” There was a collective intake of air from the hushed crowd. Jake abandoned his search and stared at Catherine incredulously. Seeming determined to finish what she had started, she rushed on. “Those who sent something to the house, I’ll see that your gifts are returned.”
Jake followed her nervous glance to the table at the edge of the dance floor. Catherine’s mother was clinging to her husband’s arm like a lifeline and the older woman with a corsage sitting next to her began to weep.
The bride averted her gaze from her loved ones to an anonymous spot on the opposite wall. “The reason I’m leaving is that my husband—” she spat out the word “—of three hours and twenty minutes—” she made a dramatic show of consulting her watch “—is out in the parking lot with one of my bridesmaids…starting the honeymoon without me.” On that note, with back straight and head high, she crumpled the paper in her hand and made for the nearest exit.
The door no sooner closed behind the bride when pandemonium reached ten on the Richter scale. While some openly cried and others expressed anger or shock, it was all Jake could do not to jump up and shout, “Bravo!”
It might have taken her awhile, but Catherine had finally discovered what he’d known from the first. The groom was a jerk. She deserved better.
A little voice inside added Yeah, someone better—like yourself. He drowned the nasty thought with a last swallow of beer and stood. He found Aunt Helen a few tables away, wide-eyed and excited, huddled with her ride home. Her hands were moving as fast as her lips and neither stopped when Jake approached. He bussed her cheek, then pushed his way through the confusion, feeling an urgency he couldn’t explain. He didn’t know what he was going to do or say but he had to find Catherine before anyone else did— this perfect and innocent creature—help her through this embarrassing ordeal, make her see the Fates had actually smiled on her.
It wasn’t hard to spot all that white in the middle of the clear, dark night. She was pivoting wildly between two rows of parked cars, fists clenched. He expected to see flames shooting from her nostrils any second. He approached cautiously, wondering if she was looking for hubby, though he hadn’t noticed any rocking vehicles, nor arms or legs protruding from unusual places. Then he understood the problem.
Where would a bride put car keys in a getup like that?
His role clearer now, he closed the space between them quickly, moving within a yard of her back before speaking. “Can I give you a ride somewhere?”
She spun around. “Who the hell are you?”
The sweet, innocent part of his fantasy launched itself to Pluto. This was clearly a woman capable of taking care of herself. Not to be deterred he held out his hand.
“Jake…Jake Alley.” His hand hung out there. Naked. Exposed. She stared at it but didn’t touch it. If she had he was certain it would blister. Slowly he slipped it into his pocket and tried to appear nonchalant. “I just thought under the circumstances you might need a lift.” She was still breathing rapidly. “Unless, of course, you have keys—” she seemed to waiver for a moment “—or you want to go back inside and find some.”
That did it. He had her now.
“I don’t even know you.” There was a slight pout on those great lips.
“That’s okay…I don’t know you, either.” He turned and walked toward his Jeep. The sound of rustling material and clicking heels followed.
Jake opened his door and hopped in. He reached across the passenger seat and shoved open the opposite side. Catherine stood there glaring at him with a look that could send a pit bull whimpering into the corner. Then she turned, hiked up her big skirt, stepped backward onto the running board and jumped into the seat. She landed with a whoosh atop yards of satin, lace and what-all and Jake grinned.
She rotated in her seat and looked at him, catching his amused expression. He fully expected another angry outburst but, instead, she jammed the balled paper down the front of her dress, then ripped off her headpiece and tossed it in the back. Next she ruffled her hair, letting it fall loose around her face. Then she shot both arms straight up into the exposed night air and tilted her face to the moon, holding the pose for what seemed like the longest time.
Finally she dropped her arms into her lap and turned to Jake. “Well? What are you waiting for? Let’s go!”
Jake threw the gearshift in reverse and left a patch of rubber as he rounded the corner heading for Woodward Avenue and downtown Detroit. When he glanced at his passenger she was gripping the roll bar and eyeing him critically.
“Late for an appointment?” she asked, not hiding her disapproval.
“New suit,” he smirked. “Didn’t want blood all over it…duking it out with your husband.” She rolled her eyes and faced forward, hair blowing out behind her, and he thought she looked more beautiful than when she’d walked down the aisle.
What in Sam Hill was he thinking? No matter how women came packaged, they were all basically the same. He eased up on the accelerator and reminded himself of previous experiences that bore out that sentiment. Images of Sally and her slick attorney were never far below the surface. He indulged his anger a few moments before braving another glimpse at Catherine.
When
