A LAW AND ORDER AUTUMN
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The 9th Commandment by theSilverChef
Summary: A wedding should be a happy event—a day of rekindlings and beginnings. But, for Connie Rubirosa, being reunited with the unresolved feelings of her past may result in the uncertainty of her future.
Saturday, September 29th, 2012; Midtown rooftop; Gibson/Van Buren wedding
The best man, Oscar Gibson, gave his speech. He spoke of Anita and Frank's unusual courtship—they had met as teenagers in high school, and they had even gone to prom together. Life and circumstances, love and loss separated them for over 35 years.
"But, when two people are meant to be together—really meant for each other—nothing will keep them apart. Congratulations, you two. I love you both." Oscar handed the microphone to his brother, and the small gathering of guests erupted in applause.
Connie clapped demurely and reached for her cocktail. She could not help but draw a comparison to her own life. Over a year ago, she had left her job at the Manhattan DA's office to be closer to her family in California. She took a coveted position at the Los Angeles DA's office, and despite every effort to maintain focused, a long overdue affair had fallen into her lap in the form of a childhood friend. Jason Avalos had been the tall and skinny chess champion with braces that had transformed into the noble and muscular LA County firefighter. He was a strong shoulder to lean on after a trying day with her mother's increasing pain levels and unending appointments with health professionals. He was kind, supportive, and unbearably handsome; so when he asked her to marry him, the logical choice was to say yes.
So, here she was, back in New York, sharing a table with her former colleagues and contemporaries at a charming Fall wedding. Jason had been fighting off a cold; and at some point after the ceremony, he succumbed to exhaustion. Connie was more than willing to return to the hotel with him, but he encouraged her to stay and have fun without him. This freedom scared her, and the fact that she was mildly relieved at his absence was further terrifying. You see— Connie's attention had been covertly focused on her one-time partner, Mike.
The term "unresolved tension" could not even begin to describe their relationship. In the wake of her impending departure nearly a year and a half before, a late-night dinner led to drinks and a barstool confession of inappropriate feelings. Mutual, requited, powerful…but inappropriate.
Connie had the luxury of escaping a potentially awkward situation on a red-eye flight to the other side of the country, but now, only a small arrangement of wild dahlias and capering votives in the center of a cozy table separated her from an unsatisfied itch. She had held her ground thus far, but as the night waned, bourbon and bravado threatened to ask… what if? The what if led to moving into the empty seat beside him as guests began to mingle, which led to small talk, which led to another round of drinks, which eventually led to an excuse to touch.
Dancing together in a sea of familiar and unfamiliar faces felt safe. There was no prospect of danger. It was a wedding; a time to be carefree and celebrate life. The rooftop was a cocoon, and Connie had no desire to fight the metamorphosis she felt brewing inside.
But, then… The makeshift dance floor was suddenly vacated as the band eased into a jazzy, instrumental version of "The Very Thought of You." Only the lovers remained. The slower pace of the song warranted proximity and affection, and unsure of Connie's mood, Mike waited uneasily for a cue. Though the rapidly churning cogs in her mind told her to sit this one out, Connie gently placed her right hand on Mike's shoulder and held her other hand up for him to take. He met her touch and drew their entwined fingers toward his chest, giving into the seductive melody.
Connie anxiously scanned the crowd as she pivoted—she had gone to the wedding with someone else. Even though she knew her fiancé was not present, she was certain that her guilty conscience hung like a full autumn moon in the Manhattan skyline… Brilliant and conspicuous. As soon as she returned to the hotel, the man she had promised to spend the rest of her life with would know the misdeeds of her heart. Connie struggled to enjoy the moment; her thoughts were shrouded in a web of lies and apologia.
Not a soul on that rooftop had known of Jason's existence before that day, and no one would tell on her. What's the harm in one more dance? Jason had told her to enjoy herself.
She inched her hand further up Mike's shoulder, hooking her arm around his neck. He returned the flirtation by sliding his hand leisurely from her hip to the small of her back, igniting an uncontrollable fire that devoured her nerves and composure in one cruel sweep. The smooth, flushed skin of her cheek hovered dangerously close to his five-o'clock-shadow. She dipped her head into the crook of his neck, taking in the scent that she had been denied for over a year… It was unchanging, like her desire for him. 14 months, a life-changing move, a new job, rekindled love, and impending marriage, yet she still never truly allowed herself to let him go.
"I don't want to leave." The words fell from her lips like a ring lost to the kitchen sink—her ring. The beautiful vintage diamond shone like a scarlet letter on her left hand, rudely shattering her daydream. She held her breath, hoping that Mike hadn't heard her trembling voice over the saxophone.
"I don't want you to leave." He guided their bodies closer together and grazed her ear with his lips. A wave of mind-searing pleasure shot through every single one of her veins, head to toe. Her eyelids fluttered closed, and she grasped his collar with white knuckles. "And if you're expecting me to just let you walk away-…" He chivalrously steered her into a dip. "-…You've clearly forgotten just how persuasive I can be."
The music faded away, replaced by the bandleader's voice. It was time for the bouquet toss, and the dance floor flooded with women. Connie quickly freed herself from Mike's embrace and moved away from the commotion. To her surprise and relief, he did not follow her back to the table. She downed the watery remnants of her cocktail and grabbed her purse. The longer she stayed, the easier it would become for her to make a catastrophic mistake. She knew it would be rude to leave without a goodbye, but she couldn't allow herself any distraction from her mission of fleeing such a dangerous situation. She reached the elevator and frantically assaulted the call button. The doors slid open slowly and she stepped into the jarringly fluorescent car.
Connie had escaped, but the romantic in her was hoping the doors would fly back open and Mike would seize her against the wall with a passionate, earth-shattering kiss. Instead, her phone vibrated from within her handbag. She pulled it out and saw a text from Jason…
I think I have a fever. Are you coming back soon?
She swallowed a painful lump of guilt and replied…
Yes. On my way.
Her phone buzzed again, and she expected to see orders to pick up some Tylenol from the drug store. Instead, she read the words that would change her life forever…
I've never given up on anything, and I'm not giving up on you. If you decide to come back upstairs, I'll be here. And after last call, I'm heading Uptown to Gracie's where I'll sit at our table and order the usual and wait for either the sun to come up or for you to join me—whichever comes first.
A smile spread across Connie's lips. Almost two years apart, and Mike still remembered that she couldn't resist a waffle sundae and a root beer float when she had a difficult decision to make. The elevator chimed as it reached the lobby, and Connie stepped out onto the marble floors. The desk attendant asked if she would like for him to call her a cab. Connie shook her head, glancing at embossed elevator doors behind her.
"No… thank you. I'm actually going back up. I left something-…someone on the rooftop."
"Oh…" The clerk seemed confused. "Well, enjoy your evening ma'am."
"I will," Connie nodded with confidence.
(The End)
Painful Reminder by TuxedoCat42
Summary: Mike begins to act differently a couple of weeks before Halloween, and Connie can't figure out why. A late night call from an unexpected person leads Connie to a side of Mike she had never seen before
Connie walked through the park across from the courthouse. The trees were changing and a breeze was tossing the leaves across the walking path. There were business peoples, runners, and parents with their children enjoying the nice weather.
Since it was such a beautiful day, she decided she would walk back to the office from the courthouse. It was weird. She was supposed to meet Mike at court, but he did not show up. He had never not shown up for work—especially court. It was not a problem; she was prepared to proceed without him, but she was worried because he had not answered her text or calls. Turning the corner, Connie entered an isolated path that would give a more direct route to the DA office. She was feeling pretty good at the moment: she had a success in court and the weather was so nice that she could remove her blazer to feel the cool breeze across her skin. She stopped abruptly at the sight of her boss sitting on a bench midway down the path. It took her a second to assess him. He was slumped down with one hand in his pocket and the other was twirling a maple leaf. He had taken to the seasonal weather as well: he had his vest and blazer, from his three-piece suit, thrown over his suitcase along with his tie, sitting next to him on the bench.
"Where you've been?"
Mike jumped at the sound of her voice, "Huh?"
"You missed the motion to suppress hearing for the Morton case," she walked closer to him.
"Umm…", he thought for a second, " How'd it go?"
When Connie sat down, on the edge if the bench, next to him, he straightened up.
She could sense that something was off , "Well…I got it quashed. That is, we can use what was found in the search."
"Good…good job," he smiled at her, but it did not reach his eyes, which were deep and distant.
She fully scooted back on the bench, and placed her things next to her. She watched him study the leaf in his hand—her stomach dropped because she knew something was wrong.
"Everything alright, Mike?"
He did not respond for several seconds, "When's the McAllister deposition?"
She looked at her watch, "About a half an hour."
"Then we better go," he stood quickly and grabbed his things.
"Have you seen Mike, Connie?"
Connie looked over at Mike's office, which was empty, "No, not in a little while."
Jack sat down in the chair next to her desk, "Is it just me or…has he been a bit off today?"
"No, no, it's not just you, Jack….."
The elder DA played with the foot of a Halloween skeleton sitting on her desk, "It's only five-thirty and he's already gone—I don't think he's ever done that before."
"He missed court this morning, too."
Jack took a sharp breath of air and exhaled, "And he didn't say anything about why?"
"No, and I didn't ask…."
He stood, "Alright, well… you go home too, Connie. We know that Mike isn't the kind to make a habit out of this."
"Make a habit out of leaving work on time…umm, yeah, I could see how that could be a problem for you," she joshed her boss.
He feigned offence, "I am referring to him missing court, MS. RUBIROSA. I think everyone should have time away from work."
"Uh uh," she laughed.
Jack stopped at the door, "Let me know if you hear anything from him."
"Okay… but I don't know what you expect."
He shook his head, "Nothing in particular… but if he's sick and he needs time, tell him he can have all the time wants."
.
Connie stayed for a few more hours before deciding to go home. She had hoped that Mike would come back into the office so that she could see him again—but that did not happen. She picked up her things and turned off her desk lamp. Walking down the hall, she was half way to the elevator when a phone rang somewhere in the office. She went back to check it out—in case it was hers. She stopped short a few feet from Mike's office. It was clearly his phone. And it was unusual for them to get calls on their office phones after hours. It occurred to her that she did not see him lock the doors, so she tried the knob—the door opened with ease and she answered his phone.
"Mike Cutter's office; this is Connie."
"Hi, may I speak to Michael?", a female voice replied.
"He's not here at the moment…. I'm his partner. Can I help you with something?"
"That depends, Connie…. Do you know where he is?"
"That depends… with whom am I speaking?"
"This is his mother, Martha Cutter."
Connie dropped into Mike's chair, "Ms. Cutter, ummm, I, actually, do not know where he is at. He left a little while ago."
"Oh, I see… well, I've called both his home and cell phones…." the line went silent for a few seconds, "Michael has talked about you, Connie, so I know that you guys are friends…. He didn't mention anything to you about where he was going?"
"No, he didn't," Connie did not know whether she should push, but she was worried about Mike, "Is everything alright?"
.
Connie was planning on going to Mike's apartment, but first, she was going to check the bar that they sometimes frequented after work. Entering the bar, she found him sitting at their normal booth in the back. He was staring into his drink.
"Mike?"
He looked up, "Connie?"
She could not quite read his face, "Mind if I sit?"
"N-not at all…." before she sat, he stood up, "Actually, I was almost to leave…." He gestured towards the door, "Can we?"
"Sure, of course."
He guided her out the door into the cool night air of October.
Once outside he pulled out his phone and questioned, "Something happen? Did I miss your calls?"
"Not mine," she replied in a soft tone.
His head jerked up from checking his phone's missed calls list, "My mother called the office?"
Connie nodded her head.
He took a deep breath, turned away, "What exactly did she tell you?"
"I'm sorry, Mike."
He sighed and began to walk down the sidewalk, "It's beautiful out, isn't it?"
She did not reply, but followed him to a nearby park bench. He brushed the leaves off the bench for her, but sat on some himself.
"This is a good way to get mugged," he broke the silence between them to joke.
Connie knew that he was not ready to talk, "Well, I was following you…so I would tell everyone that it's your fault."
He gave a small distant smile. From his behavior, she could not quite gauge how much he had to drink. He was clearly not drunk, she knew that much by her past experience with him, but she could not determine how many glasses of scotch he had consumed, "How much have you had to drink?"
"Just a glass…. I'm not going to bother myself with getting drunk over him," he turned to her.
She did not know what to say to him—he looked a little lost. Reaching over, she grabbed his hand. He was surprised by her action and he stared at their interlaced hands for several moments.
"When I was nine, for Halloween, I dressed up as Mickey Mantle…." He laughed a little and his eyes seemed to glisten, "I wore his jersey and carried around an actual wooden baseball bat that he played with—my grandfather was a Yankee grounds crewman."
Connie interrupted, "Is this the same bat that's in your office?"
"Yes, it is…. I trick-or-treated with it… my father was dressed up as an umpire….", he trailed off recalling the memory. Suddenly, he took a sharp emotional breath and squeezed Connie's hand. "That was my last good memory of him…. I woke up the next day and my mother was crying…he was gone."
Connie grabbed his arm with her other hand and hugged him, "I'm so sorry, Mike."
"Don't be," he replied softly as he shuffled the leaves under his feet.
Connie squeezed his arm again, "W-when was the last time you saw him?"
"Almost fifteen years ago…."
She looked up at him and said in a whisper, "Is there anything I can do?"
When he turned to her, it was the first time she noticed that he was crying. He squeezed her hand and replied, "You're doing it."
The wind whipped around them and leaves flew through the air. There was an unseen wrestle of leaves down the path from them.
"There is that mugger we were talking about," Mike whispered.
"It's t- ", she abruptly stopped when a large group of zombies rounded the corner.
A zombie with half his brain and guts hanging out stopped, "Hey! Any vampires come through here?"
Mike and Connie were too stunned to voice a reply so they shook their heads.
"K, thanks," he said as he reached into a bag, pulled out cloves of garlic, and peppered the ground with the vegetable. "Let's keep going!", he yelled to his group. As he left, he turned back to Mike and Connie, "You should be safe here! Just don't invite anyone into your home later!"
Mike and Connie sat dumbfounded.
Connie was the first to speak, "I think we should go."
"Me too."
(The End)
SAMHUINN by MoonlitShadowsoftheHumanSoul
Summary: Connie and Mike are preparing for a night of trick-or-treaters when sparks fly and both of them learn something they didn't know before.
"Connie, there are hundreds of screaming children running around. How can this be enjoyable with all these high-pitched shrieks?" Connie giggled at Mike's comments on the festival. It was 7:30 p.m. on Halloween night, and Connie was determined the District Attorny's office was going to give trick-or-treaters something other than a 'Stay out of jail, kids' speech. Though with a building full of lawyers, there hadn't been too many decorations to Connie's liking. So she had asked Mike to come with her to collect pumpkins so there'd be real decorations. He'd agreed, thinking it would be a quiet pumpkin patch.
"Mike, you sound like you'd rather be cooped up in an office with a law book, instead of out here with me, in the fresh autumn breeze, all the happy children running around, picking out a few pumpkins." Connie knew Mike wasn't antisocial, just a workaholic. She intended to give him a much-needed break, even if he refused to acknowledge it was a break, or even that he needed it. Men are so annoying sometimes, it's a wonder how women fall in love with them. Then again, I'm not one to talk.
"I enjoy being out here with you, I really do," Connie blushed at that sentence, even though it could mean he liked her as a friend, she chose to take it as something else. "Though I don't see the pumpkins, and they're normally not located near all the games and food. Do we need a map?" Connie rolled her eyes. Whenever he had a goal, he focused solely on that. She respected and liked that part about him, but at times it could stop him from seeing ulterior motives, for example why she might have brought him to this part of the festival.
"Aw, Mike, there's a face-painting station. You could get a scary ghost, Mr. Grumpy Pants." Mike cracked a smile, an expression she hadn't seen on his face in a while due to the barrage of cases that had been coming their way lately. "At least let me get a ghost." She gave him her best pleading face, and heard him sigh in consent.
"Let me pay for it," He forced a five dollar bill into her hand. She beamed him a genuine smile, and she saw something shift in his blue eyes that made them shine.
"No, I can't let you-" Her protests were cut off by a single flash from his eyes. Not an angry one, just one that offered no argument, in a respective way. It was another thing she liked about Mike: no matter how many buttons you pressed, he was aways respectful. When it came to her, at least. Once her ghost was done and they'd run out of Casper references, she finally led him to the pumpkin patch. As they strolled down the rows of the bright orange vegetable, Connie was reminded of a matter of utmost importance. "Can you carve the pumpkin?"
"I'm physically capable, yes." Connie slightly punched him in the shoulder, its effects lightened even less by the smile on her face. "I'm decent at it, I guess. Why?" Mike fastened his beautiful baby-blue eyes on hers, and Connie was intrigued by how analytical they were, yet they gave nothing away about Mike.
"I'm terrible at carving the pumpkins. There, I admit it. A man might actually trump a woman in matters involving knives and vegetables." Both of them burst into laughter, though Mike recovered quicker than she.
"Connie, never call me sexist after that line you just whipped out." There were traces of laughter in his tone, which only added to the playfulness already there. He can be so mature, and at the same time have all the playfulness of a child. Mike was an interesting man who raised lots of personal questions about him in the minds of his co-workers, and Connie was determined to get an answer to one of those questions that night.
"When did you carve your first pumpkin?" Connie assumed fourteen or fifteen, as that's when her siblings trusted her enough with a knife to do so. Mike looked ahead, his breath forming clouds in the crisp night air.
"I was twelve. I was spending Halloween because my mother was at work. I gave it circles for eyes and a triangle for a mouth. I put it on our porch, went inside, and..." Mike turned his gaze downward, a half-smile on his face. "You're going to tease me if I tell you the rest."
"No, I'm not." Connie truly meant it, and hoped what came next wouldn't tempt her to a point she couldn't resist. "Mike, you can trust me." Their eyes met for a moment, then flitted away from each other, neither wanting to acknowledge what the other was thinking or feeling, for fear it might resemble attraction.
"I curled up on my bed and read on the origins of Halloween until 2:00 a.m..I learned this: Halloween wasn't entirely based on All Saint's Day." Connie couldn't imagine teasing Mike over the fact he'd been alone in the house stayed up and read until 2:00 a.m., even if it was Halloween night. She had a hunch that that wasn't the only night he'd spent alone, due to the emotion in his tone, much as he tried to cover it up with the knowledge from the book. But if he didn't want to talk about it, then she wouldn't press.
"Do tell on the other origins of Halloween," Mike flashed her a grateful look after she finished speaking. So badly did Connie want to wrap her arms around him and kiss him in that moment, but she resisted.
"Well, it's also based on the Celtic festival of Samhuinn, the day in which the borders of our world and the Otherworld -the spirit world- fade and the spirits can cross over. It also signifies ending the year with darkness, so the next year may be brighter." Connie truly hadn't know that, and she found it quite interesting.
"So, the whole 'It's darkest before dawn' thing came from the same place Halloween did?" Connie lost herself in his eyes, feeling the boundaries of her work and personal life blur. I think I'm experiencing my own little festival of Samhuinn.
"I don't know. I guess so." His adorable expression melted any boundaries still remaining between her lives. She kissed him, a soft kiss that was barely two pairs of lips brushing, a contact that had been forbidden, but it didn't matter to her. Mike, and the fact he liked her as much as she did him was what mattered.
"Connie..." He trailed off, his eyes filled with an adoring gleam as he gazed into her dark eyes. She pressed a finger to his lips, making it abundantly clear he needn't say anymore and spoil the moment. Quite frankly, he hadn't planned to, as it was the best moment of his life and he had no desire for it to end. Connie kissed him again, his words echoing in her head.
This upcoming year was going to be very bright indeed.
(The End)
FALL-ing in Love by DaisyDay
Summary: Could the fall weather help turn a working relationship into something more?
Autumn in New York City is a beauty to behold. The seasonal change from the bright shades of summer to the rich golden hues of fall is breath-taking. And for some romanticists, it is said that a romance in the midst of fall has much more depth and meaning than a quick summer fling.
But EADA Mike Cutter thought differently.
To him, the arrival of fall changed nothing when it came to love. The cooler season merely signified that an umbrella and woolen scarf would soon be an accessory requirement.
After all, who has time for love when work takes first priority?
At least that is what he had convinced himself.
The world seemed to think differently, however. As he looked down his office window, he witnessed couples immersed with each other, strolling about as they attend some cutting edge art collection, try out a trendy restaurant, or catch a memorable Broadway show. The yellow, orange and green foliage contrasted nicely to the neutral-colorings of the towering skyscrapers, surrounding the city with beauty and the feelings of being in love.
Yet up here in his office, he was alone. Very alone.
"Mike?"
A knock on his opened door interrupted his thoughts and he turned away from the window as Connie casually strode in.
With her intelligent brown eyes, exquisite cheeks and, soft looking lips, Connie Rubirosa could have any man she desired. But to Mike, she chose to wear an invisible sign which read, "keep away" and closed herself off to any emotional attachments.
He pushed that sentiment aside to ask, "Connie, what's up?"
"Just wanted to know if you needed anything before I left for the rest of the day," she reminded him.
Thoughtful, reliable and efficient as always, he thought. Well, she certainly deserved the time off.
"No, I'm fine, Connie," he assured her, with a forced smile that revealed dimples, "We've just wrapped up the Huxley case, so it's actually perfect timing for you. Go out and enjoy your afternoon; whatever it is you plan to do."
He expected her to leave immediately, yet, surprisingly, she lingered. After working side by side with her for three years, he knew her moods very well. Her face showed hesitancy causing Mike to look concerned.
"Is there something else you want to talk to me about, Connie?" he inquired.
Biting her lower lip, she seemed to be struggling with what she wanted to say. Instead he watched as she dug into her pocket and produced a sealed envelope. She gingerly placed it on his desk and pushed it towards his direction.
Baffled, he stared at the mysterious envelope, which had "Mike" written on it in her own handwriting.
"Don't tell me," he said sardonically as he picked the envelope up, "I've just won the Publisher's Clearing House Sweepstakes?"
She gave a slight smile.
"If only," she responded wistfully, before her smile dissipated. "Actually, Mike," she struggled to explain, "...it's a wedding invitation" she then took a calming breath in, "...mine."
He shouldn't have been shocked. She was bound to find someone. But, still, this was so sudden, so soon. He wasn't prepared.
And if he were being honest with himself, he had been secretly in love with her for as long as he could remember, and it was pure torture knowing she didn't feel the same way.
Complete dread filled his heart at her news.
"Oh..." he choked out the first word and then worked to recover, "that's...great news, Connie."
"About time, isn't it?" she jested.
"Certainly surprising," he admitted, "I had no idea that you..."
"...I know; I never mentioned anything about it..." she burst in, her words awkwardly running together "...it's just you and I have never talked about...personal matters..." she swallowed hard, "anyway, his name is Harrison and he's an investment banker and we've been dating for about a year..." she slowed her cadence and forced a smile, "...so now you know all the important facts... "
Mike couldn't even look at her, so he stared at the envelope in his hand. A myriad of emotions tugged at his heart, but when he looked up at Connie, his face was devoid of expression.
"I suppose congratulations are in order."
"Thanks," she responded and then added, "soooo, Mike...will you be able to make it..." she looked intently at his reaction, "...to my wedding?"
Her wedding.
To someone else.
The thought of her walking down the aisle to share her life with another man dashed all his hopes of...of...he couldn't finish the thought.
He decided to be direct and honest.
"Actually, Connie...I don't think I'll be able to attend your wedding. Sorry. But I wish the best for you."
He stiffly looked down at his desk.
Her heart dropped.
She had always assumed he would come. Why wouldn't he? Wasn't he happy for her? Was it a time conflict? But how could it be? He had no knowledge of the date yet.
Whatever his reason, there was no need to prolong this conversation.
Connie half-smiled, "Oh, of course, Mike, I understand if you can't make it..."
No, you don't, Mike wanted to tell her.
She felt her cellphone vibrating and she reached into her pocket to retrieve her phone.
"Excuse me. I should get this; it may be important," she apologized.
However, when she read the text, she seemed even more distressed.
"Some bad news?" Mike inquired.
"Oh, no..., not really..." she was still reading the text. When she looked at him, she tried to act casual, "it's not about work...he's running late, so instead of picking me up, we'll just meet at our destination. So I better leave now if I'm to catch the subway."
She didn't have to identify the 'he' in her explanation.
Without thinking, Mike volunteered, "No need for you to take the subway, Connie. I could drive you there. I have my car."
"What?" Connie hadn't meant to imply she needed a ride, "Oh, no, Mike, that's not necessary, really..."
But he was already standing and grabbing his coat.
"No bother, Connie. I could do with some fresh air anyway."
But had he known where they were headed, he might not have volunteered so freely.
.
It turned out that Connie was headed to her wedding rehearsal at the church.
St. Patrick's Cathedral is one of the most famous churches for weddings in NYC. With elaborate Neo-Gothic architecture, the high ceilings, doorways and chancel designs have remained unchanged for centuries.
Connie's bridesmaids and groomsmen had already practiced walking down the aisle and now stood up at the altar, along with the Priest who stood in the center. Since Mike was not part of the wedding party, he was the lone person who sat in the pews, for he planned to drive Connie home afterwards.
Meanwhile, Connie stood at the back of the church, nervously waiting for her turn to walk up the aisle.
And still she waited.
For the groom had not yet arrived; he was running late.
Father Johnson checked his watch.
"I can't wait much longer," he warned them, "I still have my penitents to attend to."
"But, Father," the Maid of Honor pleaded as she stood next to him, "couldn't you give us maybe fifteen more minutes of your time?"
"I'm sorry," Father Johnson stated sincerely, "we need the groom's presence before Miss Rubirosa can proceed up the aisle."
"Couldn't we just go on without a groom?" she next suggested.
"The church does not operate that way!" Father Johnson stubbornly insisted.
Then as he scanned out over the pews, he spotted Mike and an idea formed in his head.
"Young man!" he called out.
Still seated, Mike turned around and checked behind before he realized the Father must be referring to him.
"Who, me?" he asked, pointing to himself.
"Yes," Father Johnson acknowledged, "We need your assistance up here as a substitute groom."
Mike looked shocked, "I don't think I could..."
The Father impatiently interrupted, "Come, come, Young Man! You merely need to stand here! We can't delay this any longer or I will have to cancel this rehearsal!"
Mike certainly didn't want to be the cause of a cancellation.
He slowly stood up.
The entire church seemed to echo his footsteps as he made his way up to the elevated altar.
The Priest nodded, unaware of the questioning tension that suddenly filled the room. He gave last minute instructions to the bridesmaids to remember to hold their bouquets at the same level in front of them and all the groomsmen to put their hands behind their backs as the bride walked up. He also reminded the Maid of Honor to pretend to straighten Connie's train once she arrived at the altar.
Everything seemed set for the bride.
"Alright, Miss Rubirosa," Father Johnson stated to Connie, at the back of the church, "Pretend the music has begun. Please make your way up the aisle."
At the idea that Mike was waiting for her up at the end of her wedding march, Connie suddenly felt herself quaking with nerves on the inside. With her cheeks flushed and her throat dry, she straightened and made her way up the aisle.
Mike had to force himself to breathe as he watched her. Soon his initial hesitancy dissolved and he was filled with a feeling of wonderment. He could not take his eyes off her as she walked up the aisle. Wasn't this what he had imagined countless times in his fantasies? He would savor every second of this.
His eyes traveled the entire length of her. Even though this wasn't her actual wedding day, he could imagine her in a delicate white dress, hear its swishing lace as she moved up the aisle. Mike was convinced he had never seen a woman more vibrantly lovely in his entire life.
Connie's heart was pounding harder and faster the closer she came towards him. Yet it felt so natural, like a wonderful dream come true. It took all her willpower not to sprint the rest of the way up.
At last she reached altar where he, Mike Cutter, stood waiting for her.
They exchanged shy smiles.
The Priest next whispered to them, "Now, enjoin both your hands."
Connie's hand was shaking as she touched hers to Mike's outstretched one. It seemed almost surreal, but the instant their hands made contact they felt a spark ignite. Connie experienced a delicious thrill as Mike closed his hand possessively over hers.
And she was no longer trembling, but strong and sure.
"Dearly beloved," the Priest began as Mike and Connie exchanged gazes that stirred them to their core, "we are gathered here today, in the sight of God and this company to join this man and this woman in holy matri..."
Suddenly the door banged opened, full-forced, and loud steps approached the altar.
"Sorry I'm late!" boomed a voice.
Mike instantly released Connie's hand and turned to see Harrison rushing up to the podium.
And their illusion of togetherness was over.
.
It was late.
And dark outside.
Mike was sitting in his office, reading an opened file, though his head wasn't in it.
And once again, he was alone.
Except now, he had done the one thing he had promised never to do.
He had revealed to Connie his feelings for her. Not in words, but in gestures and looks. Yet for a brief space of time, it seemed that she was attracted to him as well. But perhaps that was his own foolish, wistful heart thinking. He forced himself to face the fact: she was marrying someone else.
Mike let out a sigh of frustration.
She unintentionally shattered his heart again.
And yet with every single broken piece of it, he was still in love with her.
"Mike."
Now he was imagining her voice.
He looked up, expecting to see a mirage; but there she was, standing at the doorway of his office. His heart began thumping in wild, uneven beats.
"Connie," he stood up slowly, stunned, "What are you doing here?"
"You had left early," she simply commented, as she approached him.
"I had to," he answered with difficulty, unable to look directly at her.
She acknowledged his words.
"But when you left, you forgot something."
His emotions tumbled riotously as he watched her, "Oh? And what's that?"
"You forgot me."
At her simple confession, a wash of clear awareness swept over him as he walked around his desk to face her.
"Connie, are you saying what I think you're saying?" his voice was shaking.
Connie smiled encouragingly, "Earlier, as I made my way up the aisle towards you during my church rehearsal, I felt as though I was walking... towards happiness. Stupid me realized, almost too late, that with each day we had worked together, I was falling deeper and deeper for you."
Mike worked to control the bursting excitement at hearing her confession.
Never in a million years...
He stepped closer to her, with barely a gap between them.
"From the moment I saw you, I had fallen," he admitted at last from his heart.
A shiver went down her spine as she swallowed hard.
"Then I'm glad I came back for you," she said softly.
Mike searched her eyes, looking for uncertainty, but, instead, found a need for connection, for closeness, that paralleled his own.
Instinctively her lips parted as he reached over and gently took her mouth. The kiss was warm and inviting. Her body sank deeply into his as she surrendered into the kiss. It was unlike anything she had ever experienced and she sighed at the sensation of being in his arms at last.
When they separated at last, they knew they had just experienced the dizziness of love.
So ... perhaps it IS the changing hues of fall colors that brings out the magic of love!
(The End)
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