I was in an angsty mood. It's Cindy's fault. She tried to cheer me up by mailing me a puppy, but she forgot to poke holes in the box. So you can imagine what the FedEx guy left on my door step. So Cindy, this is all for you babe…
Don't own them, make no profit, etc….
I usually don' like writing sonfics, but this one spoke to me. Song is "Another try" but Josh Turner and Trisha Yearwood. If you like either of them and haven't heard this one yet, track it down!
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He stared into the mirror at empty eyes and tightened the knot on his tie. It was a new tie – blue, because who wears black to a wedding? His fingers stilled, and not for the first time, he wondered who it was he was staring at.
He moved through the still rooms, to the door. There was a gift on the sideboard table, the wrapping exquisite. He had no idea what the paper and ribbon contained. Something suitably appropriate, he was sure.
He set the gift in the passenger side of the Porsche, and pulled out of the garage. By force, he blocked out the images that were assaulting his mind as he drove. Images of Stephanie, of her smile, her eyes. The way, with just a touch of his hand, her eyes would darken to sapphire.
His hands tightened on the steering wheel, and he ground his teeth. Nothing was going to be accomplished by this. He could relive every moment they had ever shared a thousand times – he would relive them all, over and over again – but it wouldn't change the outcome.
He'd still be driving across town, in a new tie, carrying a gift with goddamn wedding bells on the paper and silver ribbon.
It was a minute before seven when he parked. He carried the gift inside and set it on a table already loaded down. A young girl, one of her nieces, he thought, tried to hand him a pen to sign the guest book, but he didn't. She didn't need his signature to remember that he had attended.
He stepped inside the sanctuary stood against the back wall. He didn't bother to find a seat – he didn't figure he'd make it through the entire ceremony anyway. Out of habit, his eyes searched the crowd and the sanctuary. The decorations were subtle, classy. Everything about the wedding was classy, exactly the sort of thing he had always pictured for Steph.
Before he was ready, the music began. Morelli and whom he recognized on sight as assorted family members and local cops lined up on the right side of the priest. The doors along the wall where he was standing opened, and Lula started down the aisle. Connie followed, then Valerie. Each of them moved forward in slow, measured steps. Each step made his heart pound harder, knowing what was coming next.
Finally Mary Lou appeared, holding the hand of baby Lisa, who was toddling down the aisle on chubby legs and flinging petals.
The doors shut with a click. Once everyone was assembled and Lisa was planted on Mrs. Plum's lap, the music changed. The crowd stood.
He forced a shallow breath and looked to his right, where she would appear. A second later, she stepped through, her right arm tucked through her father's. Unerringly, she turned her head and their eyes met.
The world around them shrank, and all he could see was her face, her eyes. He mouthed the word 'babe.' Her eyes filled with tears and for a split, heart stopping second, he thought she would change her mind. That she would take a step toward him.
She didn't.
He leaned against the wall, fighting to breathe, as she walked forward, down the aisle.
The reasons I'm
alone, I know by heart.
He watched every step she took, each one taking her farther away from him. Morelli was waiting for her, smiling at her. It was obvious from the look on his face how much he loved her.
All the things I've
felt and never shared.
It would be a good life for her. Morelli could offer her that – he kept repeating that. But the closer she got to the front, the harder it was to make sense of those words.
And how I let her go
without a fight.
The priest began the ritual prayer, blessing the two of them. Out of habit, he bent his head and crossed himself. From where he stood, he could only see the back of Stephanie's head. Her hair was piled on top of her head and covered with a white veil that dropped all the way to the floor.
He wished she had worn her hair down. He loved her curls, loved being able to run his fingers through them.
There's no changing
things that we regret.
A woman stood and began reading. Genesis, he though. But it had been a long time since he had heard scripture read. Another woman followed. Corinthians, this time, he was sure of that one.
Steph and her cop turned to face each other. He studied her profile, begging her to turn and look at him.
She didn't.
The best that we can
hope for is one more chance.
The congregation stood, and the vows began. He tried not to listen, to block out the actual words, but they filtered through. "I, Joseph Anthony Morelli, take you, Stephanie Michele Plum, to be—" He didn't hear the rest.
But he couldn't block out her voice.
If the hands of time
could just move in reverse.
"I Stephanie Michele Plum, take you, Joseph Anthony Morelli, as my husband. I promise to be true to you, in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love and honor you all the days of my life."
I wouldn't make the
same mistake again with her.
The priest was speaking again, asking each if they took the other. He couldn't hear her say the words 'I do.' Without a sound, he slipped out the door. He automatically reached for the sunglasses in his pocket, but the sun had started to set while he had been inside.
He put them on anyway.
He drove back to Haywood, controlled and steady as always, though his hands never loosened their grip on the steering wheel. When he made it to his apartment, he dropped his keys on the sideboard table but all he could see was the gift that had been sitting their an hour before.
He shrugged off his suit jacket and dropped it on the back of the couch. His fingers worked to loosen the knot of the tie while he wandered through the still rooms, toward the kitchen. Grabbing a beer from the fridge, he dropped into a chair by the window.
He tried not to think about the silence. God, it was oppressive. It had never been oppressive before. Had it? He drained the beer and walked into the kitchen to get another, grabbing the remaining five from the six pack.
The reasons I'm
alone, I know by heart.
He sank back into the chair, staring blindly out the window. The room deepened into shadows. The cop could give her a good life, he was sure of that. The cop loved her – you could see it written all over his face at the ceremony.
But I don't wanna spend forever in the dark.
He wouldn't let himself think about her face, about the look in her eyes for that one micro-second when she had held his gaze.
If only she had stepped toward him, instead of the cop. If only he hadn't let her go. If only. He drained another beer and let his head drop back in the chair. He could sit here and run through a thousand scenarios, but nothing would change. If only.
I swear next time
I'll hang on for dear life.
The front door clicked, opening. He didn't turn. There was no noise from the doorway, no footsteps. Maybe he was losing his mind. Maybe he just wanted her so badly that his mind was creating her.
If love ever gives me another try.
She sniffled. He froze at the sound, and slowly turned, terrified at what he wouldn't see. But there she was. In shorts and a t-shirt. Her hair was down, and there was no ring on her finger.
"Babe."
She sniffled again and suddenly she was across the room, in his arms. She buried her face in his neck. "I couldn't do it," she said, her voice cracking. "I saw you leave and I couldn't do it."
He tightened his arms around her. "Then stay."
I swear next time
I'll hang on for dear life.
If love ever gives me another try.
…