For ratings, disclaimers, etc., see chapter one.
Chapter XII: Decorations and Celebrations
"Look who actually came to visit," Cheryl's grandfather exclaimed and pulled her into a hug.
"I know, Papaw, I know. Things have been so busy with wrestling that I haven't had much time for myself."
"Enough time for that wrestler fellow," her grandmother piped in, wiping her hands on an apron and wrapping her in a hug. "The one with the greasy looking hair."
Cheryl inwardly sighed with relief that she wasn't talking about Batista. "He just uses a little more mousse than necessary. Besides, we've not been dating in months."
"Then you need to spend that time making up with that adorable girl you got in a fight with on Monday," she said, slipping an arm around her granddaughter's waist.
"Grandma, it's not real." Cheryl was in awe and shock that her grandmother was watching wrestling.
"I know that, honey," she replied with a laugh and pinched her cheek. "I just wanted to see the look on your face."
Cheryl shook her head and followed her grandmother into the kitchen. With only her maternal grandparents still alive, she had fallen into helping her mother and grandmother cook for Thanksgiving dinner every year while she slapped away hands that wanted to "help" but really wanted to taste test. Pierce's family had been a bit stuffier about their dinner that was always held at the same time on the following Sunday with everyone banned from the kitchen by her mother-in-law. She still talked to her former sister-in-law on holidays but she wasn't exactly welcome by the rest anymore.
After a long hug, her mother put her to work chopping vegetables for the various dishes. The Leigh/Morgan family had a veritable smorgasbord when it came to Thanksgiving but the preparation was as satisfying as the meal. Craig passed through and asked how Dave was doing but Cheryl deflected the question. She didn't exactly want to explain the sordidness of their break-up, although she refused to call it a break-up.
This was her third Thanksgiving without Pierce and he was barely on her mind. However, he was apparently on everyone else's mind. After dinner, she was hardly left alone in her tryptophan haze. Maybe it was sympathy or maybe it was because they were afraid she'd run again. The first year it had taken Cathy, her friend and her parish priest, to even get her back to the island before the holiday weekend was up. A month later at Christmas, Cathy had had to steal the key to Pierce's wine cellar but at least Cheryl was already on the island. It had been long enough for her to think that she didn't need baby-sitting but she indulged her family. Her younger cousins had gathered around her to hear as many wrestling stories as they could, only to be run off by two uncles and one aunt to hear the more adult side of wrestling. Using planning the wedding as an excuse, she slipped off to her old bedroom to finally take her tryptophan and stress induced nap.
On the day of the wedding, Cheryl's house was busier than a beehive and the redhead thought often of retreating into her bedroom and locking everyone else out. But she reminded herself that this was her idea and she had to follow through. Plus, there was an extremely nervous Nidia being readied by Lita, Victoria, and Nidia's sister in the studio. Cheryl agreed to coordinate the whole affair and the brunette hardly knew what was going on beyond the vows and some of the food for the reception. At least she had control over the choice of dress, an off-the-shoulder, long-sleeve satin gown that hovered centimeters from the floor to keep it from dragging in the sand. There were no sequins, no lace, only tiny pearls accentuating her shoulders and wrists. Her only jewelry was pearl-drop earrings, a gift from Eric, that peaked out from under mass of curls that a thin veil hung from that was scattered with pearls of its own.
Lita was fussing to Nidia about trying to apply her make-up with the brunette popping her gum when Cheryl checked on them. From there, she was about to check with the parents of the bride and groom who were loitering about in her living room and kitchen when Kurt Angle accosted her in the hallway.
"Mrs. Ellis! Mrs. Ellis!"
"Miss, Kurt, or better yet, Cheryl," she replied, putting a hand on his arm to calm him.
"Do you have any safety pins or—or—"
"What happened?"
"Eric split his pants when we held him down to give him…a…noogie," Kurt slowly finished as Cheryl glared at him.
"The seat of his breeches?" she asked and Kurt nodded. "Safety pins aren't gonna fix that!" Cheryl jerked open her hall closet door and began rifling through the contents. "Can you sew?"
"Not exactly?"
"Did your mom make your Halloween costumes growing up?"
"Yeah but what's—"
"Here," she replied, handing him the sewing kit. "Take it to her with my apologies and yours, along with Eric's pants. Now, is everything else okay?"
When Kurt answered 'yes,' Cheryl hurried down the stairs to pull the last of the quiches out of the oven. No caterers were available since most were occupied with weekend Thanksgiving dinners and the redhead was doing her best to feed the fifty people that were going to be milling about afterward. Somehow, the guestlist had grown from twenty to fifty within four days. She was entirely grateful that she had two good friends who owned hotels in the area and were willing to give discounts on such short notices.
Her family had agreed to help out and Craig and her father had found and set up folding chairs and the gazebo while her mother put up the decorations. There were no more white roses to be found on the island beyond Nidia and Eric's wedding, where every one of them now were. All of the approved guests were there and most were seated. After checking with the Leighs, she was back inside to find Mrs. Angle returning her son's repaired pants. With that done, the bride and groom's families were ushered outside, followed by the groom and his half of the wedding party.
Cheryl stuck her head inside her bedroom and called, "It's time!" All four women headed straight for a mirror. "It's a little cool outside but otherwise perfect. The wind's picking up some but I don't think there's anything to worry about."
Lita rearranged part of Cheryl's hair and then adjusted the pearl necklace she wore. The four women amazingly matched for pulling together a wedding in a week. The dresses were similar to Nidia's in that the style was long-sleeved, off-the-shoulder, and the material satin. They were deep emerald to off set the white roses and each woman wore a strand of pearls. Several of the men would be paying more attention to the ladies during the ceremony than the bride and groom.
With Lita's approval, Cheryl was finally allowed to leave, hurriedly waddling off in the form-fitting dress to cue the violinist, a friend of the Angle family. As Victoria headed down the aisle, Cheryl held a napkin out under Nidia's mouth.
"What?" she asked around a mouthful of gum.
"The gum."
"But I need it. I'm so nervous," the brunette replied, shaking one hand out and then switching her bouquet to it to jerk the other one loose from where she was clutching the flowers too hard.
"You are not saying your vows around that wad of gum," Cheryl ordered.
"Yes, I am."
"I have the power to stop this wedding." Nidia eyed her and then spit the gum out. "Alright, let's go."
Cheryl scurried into place and followed Lita down the aisle. The maid of honor, Nidia's sister, was last. The bride then made her way down the carpeted walkway amid gasps while Eric's mouth dropped open and his eyes bugged out.
Cheryl and the wedding party stood outside the gazebo that sported vines and white lights twisted throughout as the sun started to set. Listening to the couples exchange vows, the redhead was reminded of her own wedding that was so similar but then her thoughts immediately turned to Dave Batista. She had been so busy with planning the ceremony and its trappings that the handsome man was hardly on her mind. Now, she wanted to plop down in the sand and sob all over again. She chalked it up to the emotion of the wedding and dabbed at the few tears.
By the time the ceremony was over, Nidia had had them laughing and then crying. That's what you got when you let that woman write her own vows. She was a true gem and Eric knew it. The newly married couple recessed to the beach house and the wedding party followed. Cheryl edged around the two who were making out in the kitchen to arrange a few more items on the bar and carry trays into the dining room as the guests began to file in. Knowing so few people, it was easy for the shy woman to retreat into the kitchen and claim she was taking care of the food. She hovered in the doorway to keep an eye on the table and watched Nidia, a vision in white, drift in and out of rooms and play a much better hostess than Cheryl ever thought of being. It wasn't that Cheryl wasn't doing it, it was just Nidia filled the position without even trying. She floated around, joking, showing off her ring, and hardly hiding the fact that she was due in seven and half months. That meant only one thing for the Monday Junk Food Club—besides finding a better name—a baby shower.
"Chica, thank you so much! This was perfect, much better than the courthouse," Nidia exclaimed, wrapping Cheryl up in a hug.
"I had a lot of help."
"But it wouldn't have happened if you hadn't brought it all together. So…what're you doing here? Go mingle," Nidia prodded, trying to push her towards the living room.
"I'm just making sure I keep your guests in food and wine," she replied, gesturing at the overflowing table.
"Hmmph…Where's Dave?"
"He couldn't make it," the redhead quickly answered, a little too quickly. "He's with family."
"Really?" Cheryl nodded in answer. "You're a terrible liar."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"You can't play dumb, you're not blonde," Nidia said, picking at her hair.
The other woman slapped her hand away and sighed, "This is your wedding day. I don't wanna talk about it."
"You're going to," the bride replied, grabbing her by the arm and dragging her into the kitchen.
When the conversation was all over, Cheryl was slightly miffed—well, actually a lot miffed—at Nidia for siding with Dave but she wasn't about to ruin the day for her by arguing. She put on a 'happy' face and saw the couple off in a fully-loaded Dodge Ram that Eric had somehow found to rent for his new wife. She really couldn't hate the woman and still wished her happiness as they left for a bungalow on the other side of the island.
With a sigh, Cheryl returned to a disaster in her home. With the bride and groom gone, most of the guests were filing out and she hoped that her cleaning up would encourage the others to leave. Kurt was leading an entourage to "The Zone," of course courtesy of Cheryl, and the majority of people were going with him. Darkeyah had agreed to open an hour early just for them.
The coordinator slumped into the kitchen and began putting away the leftovers, wishing it could all wait until tomorrow. She just wanted to go to bed, completely exhausted from cooking all night and decorating all day, but she knew she wouldn't be alone for two more days. Lita and Victoria were staying with her and they were all flying out early in the morning to make it to RAW just in time. Hopefully, they wouldn't be too tired. For now, they were helping to put her home back in order and not by request of Cheryl. She tried to send them to "The Zone" with everyone else but, obviously, they were just as exhausted. Not long thereafter, somehow, they ended up a bit tipsy, a bit giggly, and fell asleep where they dropped on the sofas in the living room.
Cheryl had thrown herself into her family's Thanksgiving gathering, the one day she wasn't bombarded with concern over the wedding, and, between the two events, had thus managed to keep Batista from off her mind. If only she could have diverted her brother's questions in another direction again after their planned dinner date next Wednesday. Craig had managed to take vacation time for a week, sans Nicole, who couldn't convince her work to let her spend a week in South Carolina. All the better, Cheryl wasn't willing to share him with his girlfriend, even if they had been dating for three months and he still claimed that she was the one. He always kept falling in and out of love and he really didn't know what love was—in her opinion. Besides, the girl du jour was always his excuse for not spending more time with his family.
The two lounged on her couch, sipping wine and flipping through television channels. "Cher, where's your Christmas decorations?" Craig asked, glancing around the room.
"I didn't see any point in putting them up. I'm not here enough," she shrugged, taking a sip of her drink. "Besides, I've been busy with the wedding and that just wore me out."
"You have to decorate. You've not decorated since…well, you know… I thought you might this year because of Dave and all. C'mon, we've got all night," he enthusiastically said, setting his wine glass down and jumping up from the sofa. "Where're they at? In the attic where Memaw kept them?"
"Craig, it's alright, really," she pleaded.
"We've got nothing else better to do tonight," he said and pulled her up from the couch.
"Fine," she sighed.
Cheryl stayed at the bottom of the attic ladder to catch the decorations as Craig dropped them down. He finally emerged with the tree, his brilliant copper hair a dull orange from the dust he had collected. She had always been jealous of the color of his hair, wondering why he was lucky enough to inherit the family's red instead of getting the orange citrus of hers.
While Craig fumbled with setting up the tree, which was Pierce's job for a reason, Cheryl put on a Christmas CD, strung lights in the window, and hung garland around the stairs' railing. Her brother announced that the tree was ready as she pinned the wreath of metallic jingle bells to her door.
"You're awfully quiet," Craig said as they began to hang ornaments. Cheryl shrugged her shoulders in reply. "I know it's got to be tough around this time of year. I miss him too…obviously not like you do," Craig added with a slight laugh.
"I would hope not," she said with a one-sided smile but grew quiet again as they continued hanging baubles.
"Cher, you can talk to me if you need to."
"Why do you think something's wrong?" she asked, from the other side of the tree with icicles in her hand.
Craig's head appeared from the other side. "Because your chewing your lip again," he replied, pointing at her mouth. "Has Dave realized you haven't moved on?"
"I have moved on. Why can't you people get that?" She felt justified in her comments because it wasn't her husband that was on her mind, it was Batista. She had held on, waiting for him to call, but, when the weekend had passed with no call, she was beginning to lose hope.
"Sis, what's going on?"
"Nothing," she said forcefully. "Or at least, nothing I want to talk about."
"Look, I don't want to make you mad or anything. I'm sorry I upset you. If there is anything, you know my number."
"I'm sorry, sweetie," she replied and hugged him to her. "You wanna put the angel on? You're taller."
"I did it at grandma's. You do it here," he responded and handed her the topper that had belonged to their Great-great-grandmother Leigh.
When Craig had settled down in one of the guest rooms, Cheryl sat alone, a bottle of wine from Pierce's wine cellar on the end table beside her. Her thoughts lingered on two men: one she had lost forever and the other one that she thought she might love and could have lost forever. Yet, he had been the one to walk away from her because he couldn't live with the fact that she was a young widow. After so long, the lights on the tree began to grow fuzzy and she realized she had had enough if she was going to drive Craig to the airport in the morning.
TBC…
Author's Notes: I had several comments about how mean Batista was to Cheryl. I didn't mean for Batista to be that bad to her. I was thinking more along the lines that he's trying to shock her into realizing what she refuses to see. I casually hint that his stepmother had to do the same with his father, so he kind of knows what it's going to take. I also had him take a few comments too far because no one's perfect and people almost always say something they don't mean and will later regret in arguments.