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Chapter 8: A Vision in Green

Abby lifted the stroller out of the car and then Joe out of his car seat.

"This is just between us two, got it?" she said to the child as she buckled him into the stroller. Then she looked around suspiciously, as if she was a child stealing a cookie from the cookie jar. She had a bad feeling that someone she knew would pop out and see her and ask her what she was doing.

As she walked down the street, she couldn't help glancing at one of the shops out of the corner of her eye. She slowed her walk. The shop had a sign that read:

"Bernice's Bridal Boutique"

Abby hesitated before opening the door. When she walked in, she was blinded by the selection of white before her. There were dresses everywhere.

"Well hello! You must be the bridesmaid! Come on in! Joanne is just in the fitting room. She will be right out," greeted a large, short woman.

"Excuse me?" Abby said nervously.

"You are Joanne's older sister, her maid of honor?" the woman asked.

'No," Abby corrected, wanting to sink right into the carpet.

"Oh, my mistake. How can I help you?"

"Um, well, I uh, I'm getting married," Abby stuttered.

The woman looked down at the little boy in the stroller for just a split second before clapping her hands together.

"Ohhhh! Of course! Mademoiselle, you've come to right place, then!" she exclaimed.

Abby really wanted to sink into the carpet now.

"Have I?" she said.

"When's the big day?" the woman smiled largely and falsely.

"Well, hopefully it's not a big day. We want to keep it very low key. I don't want anything extravagant for a dress," Abby cautioned.

The woman stared for a moment. "Okay," she said slowly.

"How about this?" suggested the woman.

Abby inspected the selection that was held up.

"A big seller for our customers aged 40 and above," continued the saleslady.

Abby grimaced as she looked at the long, puffy, hideous dress. It had long sleeves and a high collar.

"I don't think it's really…me," Abby responded finally.

"How about this one then?"

This time the woman held up a short number. It had a halter neck, appeared to be made out of spandex, and would probably only reach her ass.

"A lot of 'mothers slash brides' have chosen this one," the woman stated.

"As in hoochie mamas?" Abby clarified. "I think maybe I should just leave."

"You know, lots of women are having children out of wedlock these days," the woman called after Abby. "It's nothing to be ashamed about!"

"Thanks!" Abby called back sarcastically.

Later, as Abby stood in line at the grocery store check-out, she noticed on rack of magazines a copy of Bridal Bliss, sitting next to the latest US magazine. The 7 Best Photographers of the Year! the former had as a headline. The second was not much better: Longoria-Parker Nuptials-Exclusive Photos Inside! The ring, the cake, THE DRESS!

Abby picked up the first one and flipped guiltily through it. The bulk of the magazine was models posing in a variety of dresses. There was an article about budgeting a wedding. Abby jumped as she learned how much a conventional wedding would cost a person in 2007. She was planning on a slightly sub-conventional wedding, but still. It was absurd. How much had her wedding with Richard cost? She hadn't a clue. His parents had paid for it, in exchange for practically having veto power over every single decision.

By the time she and Joe were home, Abby was ready to crash on the couch. Did planning a wedding have to be so stressful? Ha, she thought to herself. I should have known what I was getting myself into.

"Back so soon?" greeted Luka, descending from the bedroom. "How'd it go?" he asked skeptically.

Abby sighed. "You don't even want to know."

Luka gave her a small sympathetic smile. "I just got off the phone with my father. He doesn't think he'll be able to come down. Same with my brothers."

Abby frowned. She was sincerely disappointed with this news. "Really? There's no chance at all?"

"Unlikely," Luka replied, removing his son's shoes. "He didn't say much on the phone, except that he hasn't been feeling great lately and was going to see a doctor next week."

"That's too bad. I was looking forward to meeting them," Abby said sadly.

"You will one day," Luka said optimistically. "Did you find a dress?"

"I said you don't want to know," answered Abby, half-jokingly and half-serious. She poured herself a cup of coffee at the counter and leaned over the counter. "What did Danjiella's dress look like?" Abby said the words before she had even realized it. She thought maybe she had sounded too upfront, too blunt. It had been, however, something she had wondered about during the day. She remembered her own dress perfectly, even if she would rather forget about it. But she had asked herself what kind of dress a young Croatian girl, especially one marrying Luka, would have worn.

Luka grinned and closed his eyes momentarily, as though reliving the moment he first saw her in it. "Lace. It was an ivory lace dress that her and her mother made together. The veil was all lace, too."

Abby watched Luka's face closely as he relayed this description. He smiled, and his whole face lit up. Part of her regretted asking, for the awkwardness it would create. Of course she could never measure up to that. She imagined Danjiella, a vision in ivory, practically an angel, breathtakingly beautiful, walking gracefully, a virgin, to Luka, the love of her life. And here she was: a middle aged mother, former alcoholic, committa-phobic who would only ever look nice, at best. Oh, and she certainly was not about to sew it up herself. The dress, that is. Her semi-daydream was interrupted by Luka's voice.

"Don't worry, it took her months to plan the wedding. She looked for a dress for 3 months before deciding to make it herself," Luka reassured.

Abby smiled within. She had had even more trouble than Abby, it seemed. Then she felt bad for feeling competitive with Luka's dead wife.

"I just think that maybe weddings today have gotten a little out of hand, and I don't want to be like that. I mean, we've both been married before. We both have busy jobs, and a son to raise. How could we have time to plan a wedding?" said Abby finally.

Luka frowned at Abby's turned face. "You're not backing out of getting married again, are you?" he asked cautiously, not wanting to start an argument.

Abby sighed. "No, I want to get married. I just think that I'm a little old for the traditional wedding thing. I know we said before that we were going to keep it low key, but I really mean it now. I don't care about a big ring, or what kind of food we eat. I don't really care if everyone from the ER, and the babysitter comes."

Luka grinned. "I totally agree. As long as we can have a honeymoon. We can have a honeymoon, right?"

"Definitely. I want beaches. Miles and miles of beaches," muffled Abby as her lips pressed against Luka's.