The morning of Jonathan and Melissa's wedding dawned clear with the promise of daylong sunshine. Though the sky was just barely light, Angela's first thought as her eye peaked open was of the forecast that called for a high temperature of eighty-two. She said another small prayer of thanks that the rain predicted earlier in the week had turned north, leaving the whole of Connecticut with perfect August conditions.
Turning toward the sleeping form of her husband, she basked in this rare opportunity to watch the subtle flutter of his eyelids, the steady rhythm of his beating heart, and the ticks and twitches that were the unique fingerprint of his slumber. She could probably count on both hands the times she had woken up before him in the past fifteen years, but it seemed fitting that she had time to herself, in the quiet stillness of dawn, to think about her son's wedding day.
The house was still silent, but Angela knew her solitude would be short-lived. Tony was planning to have breakfast made by seven, and the women had appointments at the salon at nine. In a very short time, everyone would begin to stir.
Watching the red digits on her bedside clock tick off the final minutes of the four o'clock hour, she leaned back against the headboard and looked over to her closet door where her navy dress with silver iridescent highlights hung, waiting to serve its purpose. Angela brought to her mind her first memories of Jonathan, swaddled in a blue receiving blanket, with a bald head and soft brown eyes, the very image of her own. She remembered the ceaseless energy of her toddler, running circles around the couch with his diaper clinging by one tab to his leg. She saw him as he was his first day of preschool, a precocious three-year-old who could name the capitals of not only every state but most South American countries as well. Then he was seven, and desperately in need of a male confidante and role model. And that need brought Tony into her life, the first man in years she found herself first caring for and then loving deeply.
The change in Jonathan after Tony's arrival was slow but constant. He joined Cub Scouts, spoke up more in class, sought answers from Tony to questions he never would have approached her with, and even made the high school baseball team his junior and senior years. He found an older sister in Samantha, who was first a playmate, then a sibling rival. They didn't always get along, but they shared holidays and birthdays, rides to school and embarrassing moments at the hands of their parents — experiences he would have had to otherwise endure alone. By the time he graduated, he had developed a confidence in himself she didn't need a psychologist to tell her wouldn't have happened without Tony.
Feeling the mattress shift, Angela glanced over to see Tony looking up at her. "Good morning," each said in a barely audible whisper. Snuggling close, they basked in the few precious moments they would have alone in what was sure to be a day of endless activity. This was Angela's favorite place in the word – wrapped in the arms of a man she loved more than life itself. Their relationship had been anything but typical, and maybe they had spent too much time denying their feelings, but if the result was a stronger marriage that she rarely took for granted, then there was no doubt they had traveled the right course. She had never forgotten a brief but very meaningful conversation they had had the night the old Starlight Ballroom had closed. Tony had asked her if she thought they were moving too slowly, and she had told him that as long as they were happy, then maybe what they were doing was right. Seven years later, with the warmth of his love as real as the warmth of his body next to hers, she knew that they were doing was still right.
"We should probably get up and get a headstart on everyone," Tony said practically. He was thinking of the gallons of coffee and dozens of eggs he knew everyone would be consuming that morning – which he had to provide.
Angela nodded but didn't move. She wasn't ready to leave the warm cocoon of the bed, and to prove her point, she nuzzled closer to Tony and wrapped her arms around him. "In a minute. I'm too comfortable."
Tony apparently concurred as he put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her even closer, so that her head rested on his shoulder and their feet entwined under the thick down comforter. Turning toward her, Tony lowered his mouth to hers in a good-morning kiss that tingled Angela's toes. Angela responded in equal measure and moved her hand from his chest to his face, feeling the rough stubble of a night's growth of beard. "You know," she whispered when the kiss ended and they lay nose to nose, "after we first got married, I used to love touching your face in the morning."
Tony blinked, confused by the turn of the conversation. He had hoped the kiss would lead in more intimate directions, but Angela had something she obviously had to say. "You liked touching my face?"
She smiled and rubbed her hand along his cheek again, her soft touch so familiar, yet always new. "Yes. Because for eight years you greeted me every morning dressed, groomed, and clean shaven. I rarely got to see you all mussed, with sleep still in your eyes, stubble still on your face ..."
At his laugh, she added dryly, " ... with morning breath ... and I used to love finding you in the kitchen in the middle of the night just because it seemed like our defenses were down a little. It's hard to remember your boundaries with someone when you're sharing a pint of ice cream in your pajamas."
"Pajamas you looked pretty darn cute in, as I recall. If I'd had my own bathroom back then, I'd have taken a lot of cold showers." Angela blushed despite herself. "But," he continued, "now you get to see me warts and all. And unless you get back to kissing me, you'll be sending me to the bathroom for my first cold shower in five years."
"Tony! I have a wedding to put on today." But her weak protest was no match for the heat of his kiss as he wrapped his arms around her once more.
Angela fairly floated down the stairs a short time later, her heart full of love, her head full of Tony, and her lips still tingling from the stubble she was so fond of.
They had determined it was in their best interest for him to shower first since his role as cook and host likely wouldn't afford him another opportunity, and she had a trip to the salon scheduled for later. Although it meant entrusting Angela with getting the coffee started, Tony reluctantly decided the risk was worth it, much to his wife's chagrin.
It was 5:45, and not a soul had stirred. The living room was bathed in the pink from the newborn sun that was streaming through the windows, and Angela was surprised to see light creeping from under the kitchen door. Who was up, she wondered, realizing with an embarrassed grin that she and Tony had been unlikely to hear anyone make their way downstairs.
She expected to find her mother or Mrs. Rossini in the kitchen, but the room was empty when she pushed through the door. Shrugging, she headed over to the sink to start what she knew would be the first of many pots of coffee over the next few hours.
She poured the water into the coffee pot and paused when she heard the unmistakable sound of whispering voices. Inching her way past the stove, around the corner of the counter, she followed the sounds until she was face-to-face with a fern. She brushed the foliage aside, and recognized her son's voice through the screen on the other side of the window greenhouse.
"For the tenth time, my eyes are closed."
"You're sure?" Melissa whispered back.
"Yes, now come out here."
What were those two crazy kids thinking, meeting at five-thirty in the morning on their wedding day? Angela was torn between allowing the lovebirds some privacy and announcing her presence since the bride and groom should not be in each other's presence. In the end, she did nothing. If they got up before six a.m. to talk, who was she to stop them?
Their voices carried through the open screen, and caving into temptation, she moved the plant aside and saw Jonathan — with his eyes duly closed — standing on the other side of the window and Melissa slowly making her way toward him, scrutinizing his eyes to make sure they were shut.
"Good morning," she said shyly, giggling in her bare feet and nightshirt.
"So, you ready to get married today, soon-to-be Mrs. Bower."
"That's Mrs. Randall-Bower to you."
"Oh really," Jonathan raised a closed eyebrow, "When did you decide that."
"Talking to your mother the other day. You know, I think I really lucked out in the mother-in-law department."
"Yeah, she's pretty great. But I guess I can say the same about my new in-laws, too."
From her perch in the kitchen, Angela blushed, but her heart warmed. Deciding she had long overstayed her presence in the conversation, she eased back from the window and busied herself getting out milk, sugar, mugs, and even some bowls and utensils for the eggs and French toast Tony was planning to make.
Unfortunately, once she was back at the sink, she couldn't help but hear more of the conversation taking place outside.
"Listen to me Missy, I don't care of the cake falls over, the DJ gets lost, or the food is cold. I don't even care if no one else show up, as long as you're there and willing to say 'I do' at the right time."
"I will be, I promise. And so will everyone else. We're going to have a spectacular wedding, and then we're going to have a very long, happy marriage. I love you so much, Jonathan."
"Do you have any idea how much I love you?" This was a game they often played, and the other person was obligated to answer with the name of a famous couple.
"As much as ..." Melissa's mind raced to come up with a couple they hadn't used yet. " ... Fred loves Wilma?"
"More."
"Ken loves Barbie?"
"Way more," Jonathan said almost indignantly.
"How about more than Mr. Darcy loved Elizabeth Bennett?" she asked smugly.
"Who? It doesn't count if I don't know them."
Angela nearly spoke up, appalled that her son didn't know her favorite author's most famous couple. But Melissa did her proud and saved her the embarrassment revealing her eavesdropping.
"You've never read 'Pride and Prejudice?'" Now it was Melissa's turn to be indignant. She was only sorry Jonathan — with his closed eyes — couldn't see the horror on her face.
"Nope, so guess again," he said simply.
Resigned, she resumed her mental search for the perfect couple. "I got it. Do you love me as much as Tony loves Angela?"
Angela, who had gotten caught up in thinking of her own couples as she poured two cups of coffee, thought for sure she'd heard wrong.
"My parents?" Jonathan said surprised. Then he thought about it. "You know, in my whole life, I don't think I've ever seen two people who love each other more. So yes, I love you as much as Tony loves my mom."
"Good, because after really getting to know them, I can't think of a better couple to try to be like. I'm just glad it didn't take you seven years to propose."
"Me too. Now you better get back upstairs before your parents wake up."
Angela didn't hear what Melissa said back because Tony burst in the kitchen with a loud proclamation: "Come on, Angela, let's hit it, let's move it, let's ..."
"Shhhhhhh," Angela waved her hands in frantic signaling to quiet him down.
"What, what, what, what?" he asked conspiratorially, sprinting over to her just as Jonathan opened the back door and walked in.
Angela tried to wipe the tears from her eyes that Jonathan and Melissa's tender words had evoked. But her son took one look at her and blurted out, "You were listening, weren't you?"
"NO! — I mean yes," she stammered, "I couldn't help it, the window was open. I'm sorry sweetheart. I didn't mean to eavesdrop."
"So much for good morning. Eavesdrop on what?" Tony asked.
"My conversation with Melissa."
"You were talking to Melissa? At six in the morning? You're not supposed to see the bride the day of the wedding."
"I didn't SEE her. My eyes were closed. So what did you hear?" he said to his mom, sending the rapid-fire conversation back to her.
"Nothing, nothing," she replied defensively, but not meeting his eyes. Then she decided to level with him. After all, she could have left the room to guarantee their privacy. "Honey, I'm really sorry. I just heard people talking outside and paused to listen. Then I went about my business."
"So why were you crying?" he persisted.
"Because I overheard what you said about Tony and me, and I was really touched. I didn't know you felt that way."
"Yeah, well I do." On the spot, he forgave his mother. Today was his wedding day, and he didn't care who heard him profess his love for his bride or his admiration for his parents. "Anyway, I sorta wanted to talk to you guys before anyone got up."
"What's on your mind, Jonathan?" Tony asked, pouring a third cup of coffee for the groom and taking a seat at the table.
"I don't know, I guess I just wanted a few minutes with you before everything gets crazy."
Sipping the coffee Tony poured for him, Jonathan sat back and took in his environment, the cake molds on the wall, the nursery window above the sink, the aged and scarred table and like floor. It was home. "You know, it's been five years since I've lived here, but all the time I was in college, I always considered this home, not my dorm or apartment."
"Honey, this will always be your home."
"I know Mom, but Melissa and I are going to have our own place, and one day our own house. We don't want to stay in the city forever, and I won't be able to say, 'Hey, I'm gonna head home for a few days.'"
"No, you won't," Tony said, setting down an English muffin and some scrambled eggs he'd whipped up, refusing to send Jonathan to his wedding on an empty stomach. "But you also won't want to. I felt that way about Brooklyn for a while after Sam and I moved here, but pretty soon, this became home, this was where I wanted to be, with you and your mom."
"And I know I want to be wherever Melissa is. I guess this is just my roundabout way of telling you guys how much I'm gonna miss you."
"Were going to miss you too sweetheart, but you just have to remember that our family isn't dividing, it's multiplying," Angela said. And then the unmistakable sound of footsteps from outside brought an end to their time together. "Now you better head upstairs before Melissa walks in here and you do see her," Angela continued, hugging her son and sending him back to his room so his bride-to-be could have a chance to eat before leaving for the hairdresser's.
"Thank for everything, Mom ... and Dad," he said, before disappearing into the living room just as a knock came to the back door.