Hi gang! Glad you all have hung in there with me through some sloooow months…
You will find a new feature this chapter, and that is, I'm going to try to specify dates and seasons a little more throughout the story. This will help everybody keep track of where we are, given the fact that time will be moving a little differently now.
Trigger Warning: Body-shaming.
/
"Dreaming with a Broken Heart" - John Mayer (In honor of Adam at the end of the chapter!)
2003
"Lacey! How good to see you! Please, come in."
The woman facing Lacey, standing at the door of a modest but stately brick house with ivy growing up the sides, smiled so sweetly she could practically taste the saccharine in it.
"Barbara, hi!" She forced a smile back, receiving the cool hug Mrs. Breckenridge offered her. Jeff led her inside after his mother, nudging her a bit to remind her of his mom's biggest rule: take off your shoes before entering.
It vexed Lacey. She was wearing snow boots that she had been sweating in the entire car ride to Slayton. But, Barbara's rules were Barbara's rules, and she was particularly obsessed with keeping her hardwood floors looking flawless. So Lacey leaned down to untie the laces.
It wasn't that she didn't want to like Jeff's mother. It was more that she was pretty sure the woman didn't like her. The Breckenridges weren't overly wealthy, but they were well-respected in their small community. Jeff's father was the rector of an Episcopalean church, but from the moment Lacey had met him, she knew that this man was an entirely different sort of clergyman than Kristy's father was. Mahlon, though Lacey would never dream of calling him by his given name, was quiet and refined, and had only asked his son's fiancee the bare minimum of polite questions when he'd first met her. Most of the talking had been taken over by Barbara, who seemed to view their family's station as much higher than it actually was.
Lacey had met Jeff's parents only once before, and had felt homesick the very minute she'd stepped through the door. It was no different this time, only now she felt a tremendous amount of pressure. She and Jeff were engaged, and the planning would commence.
Just after the engagement, Lacey finally began to feel settled about her and Jeff's new relationship status. It seemed right. Her hesitation and near panic about the situation soon evaporated, and she chalked it all up to nerves. Surely any engagement would spur on that kind of emotion.
A spotless hallway and dining room greeted her as well as the heavenly scent of pot roast. If nothing else, Barbara was a divine cook. "Please, sit down. Mahlon?"
"Yes, yes, I'm coming," Reverend Breckenridge replied calmly as he appeared in the dining room doorway. "Lacey," he issued a civil smile and nod in her general direction.
"Reverend Breckenridge," she returned the smile, wishing at times she had the invitation to call him just about anything but the lengthy combination of his title and last name.
Lacey Breckenridge.
She immediately attuned her thoughts elsewhere as she turned her smile to Jeff, receiving a wink.
He knew she was uncomfortable around his parents during the last visit, and had reassured her in the car by reaching over and rubbing her arm. "Hey, ignore them. Now do you see why I rarely go home?" he chuckled. "I mean, they're good people at heart, they just have their own way of doing things I guess. Going off to college was the best thing I ever did."
"So! What are we looking at for the ceremony?" Barbara wasted no time asking Lacey as the four of them began to eat. "It will be in a church, of course. Maybe ours? After all, I assume Mahlon will be marrying the two of you."
Lacey speared a tender carrot with her fork. "Well, I had thought to get married back home, actually. Because, I hope you understand, Reverend Breckenridge," she glanced over at Jeff's father earnestly. "I had already planned a long time ago for my best friend's dad to marry us."
The fact was, us had originally been her and Adam when she'd received her promise ring. But she still wanted Pastor Pete to officiate her wedding, no matter to whom. He was Kristy's dad, Ariel's pastor, and a man she truly liked. It just made sense, and it's what she wanted.
There was an uncomfortable silence.
"Yes, and I'm sure he's an excellent reverend," Barbara chirped finally, passing the bread basket. "But of course, Mahlon has married everyone in our family to date. Even the girls. He walked them down the aisle and then immediately took his place behind the pulpit to be the one to join them in matrimony. There wasn't a dry eye in the church."
The girls. Everything about this wedding was going to be compared to Jeff's three older sisters, she was sure.
"And you've been inside our church, haven't you? It's so beautiful. I'm sure after you take one look, you'll change your mind," the woman winked. "And besides, you don't have a family church do you, Lacey?"
Lacey's cheeks burned and she casually glanced over at Jeff for help.
He didn't disappoint. "Well, Mom, you know," he took a large bite of his roast. "As far as I'm concerned, we can get married in a bowling alley. I'm not a 'church' person. You do know that by now, right?"
Jeff, when telling Lacey he was a rector's son, had made it clear to her that he didn't share his parents' views about the existence of a god. It proved the two of them were well-suited, as she wasn't sure what she believed about the subject either.
"Jeff," his mother raised her voice slightly. "You're getting married in a church, and that's final."
Lacey couldn't help staring at the woman for a moment. This was, after all, her wedding. But she didn't want to make the dinner unpleasant. With any luck, there would be plenty of time later for this discussion. She and Jeff had yet to even set a date.
The visit to Jeff's family home felt stiff and strained, but Lacey tried to focus on the positives: for good or bad, she was getting to know his parents better; she finally had the chance to meet his older sisters, Lane, Carrie, and Marsha–all of whom, except for Marsha, seemed to overlook her presence in a room every time they entered (which was not necessarily a positive, but at least she knew where she stood in the scheme of things); she'd been able to travel around Slayton with Jeff and learn a little more about his childhood and teenage years there, including getting to see his schools, the places he enjoyed hanging out, and finally, his dad's church. Admittedly, it was probably the prettiest church she'd ever seen. Could she compromise with Rev. and Mrs. Breckenridge and have the wedding there if they would support her choice for Pastor Pete to officiate?
"And you still want to marry Jeff?" Ariel questioned when Lacey returned to Minneapolis and the family took her to Olive Garden to celebrate the engagement.
"Ariel," Halen quipped. "What kind of question is that? Of course she does. She wouldn't have said yes if she didn't."
But, as Lacey had discovered with Ariel a long time ago, the best way to respond to her blunt questions was to remain calm and measured, then give an honest response. "Yes, I do. And if you got to know him, you would understand why. I think he's a good fit for me. He's dependable, he has a great sense of humor and just an all around really great guy. I'd like very much for you to accept that, because of course you and Halen are both going to be my maids of honor." She smiled to break the tension at the table.
"He's nothing like Adam, though," her sister continued to press. "Who you just kind of dumped."
Lacey's heart began to race as she felt the heat of anger rush to her face, and she looked down at her alfredo as she tried to compose a response. But her mom and Stuart quickly came to her defense, speaking almost at once.
Mom: "Ariel, what an asshole thing to say."
Stuart: "Och, wha' are ye on aboot, Lass? 'Ave some respect fer yer sister."
"You're right," Lacey finally spoke, choosing to ignore the remark about her having "dumped" her former boyfriend. "He's nothing like Adam. And that's okay. Adam was what I needed back then, when we were both young. But things change. That was a while ago, Ariel. I've since met Jeff, and he's the one in my life now. So let the past go and get used to the present, okay? And to the future."
Halen nodded. "Yes, you have to," she lectured Ariel, who rolled her eyes. "People can love in different ways. What Lacey and Adam had was puppy love. This is marriage love."
That statement didn't sit quite right with Lacey either, so she changed the subject. "Stuart, when you and Davy finish working on the vanity, I'd like to buy it from you for the house."
"Ah, there wonna be buyin', Lacey. It'll gladly be m' gift fer the pair o' yous," Stuart smiled before biting into a breadstick.
Due to Jeff having found a job in the Minneapolis area, the couple planned to remain there, and Jeff was already talking about purchasing a house for he and Lacey to move into together. It would, he explained, hopefully become a family home, with a swimming pool out back "for you and the kiddies someday."
Lacey had smiled, humoring Jeff by allowing him to have this thought, but she wasn't at all sure she wanted children. She truthfully hadn't thought much about it until he brought it up, and the idea didn't fill her with comfort. How would she handle her panic and anxiety disorder while raising kids? Would she have one hair left on her head by the time they were eighteen? Doubtful.
"Do you have any idea how unprepared I was when I had you?," her mom had replied when Lacey had brought up the subject to her. "I was still pretty much a kid, and I thought I had a lot of partying left to do. But there you came anyway, and here you are now. You survived, even if barely, and you turned out to be a woman I'm proud of, which means I at least did a few things right. So don't underestimate yourself."
Lacey had glowed with gratitude at the compliment, which must have been at least half true if it came from her mom. It was certainly her goal to be successful in life. She had thus far been so at her job–as much as she disliked her duties at times–and now, in marrying a guy like Jeff, she considered herself to be a success personally as well. Something that, years ago, she was afraid she'd never be.
By the summer, just after her sisters graduated from high school–an event that made her cry like a baby–Lacey and Jeff had moved together into the cute, compact white house they had decided upon, in a good neighborhood with friendly people. Jeff was as sociable as she was, and the two of them created a great outdoor space overlooking their spacious yard, inviting neighbors over as often as they could. Lacey's nights were soon filled with the scents of burgers grilling and fresh cut grass, the sounds of laughter at Jeff's endless supply of humorous anecdotes, the feel of warm summer air caressing her skin, all surrounded by the warm gleam of the string lights they had laced the back porch with. Kristy and Davy came over often, and the four of them played Spades and Canasta long into the night. Given Davy and Jeff's shared happy-to-lucky attitudes, it was easy for Lacey to stay amused and in high spirits. With Jeff at her side, she saw the value in not thinking about anything too deeply.
Until she learned about something that was happening right under her nose while she had been too busy shaking up margaritas to even notice.
Halen had begun seeing a different boy around the very time Lacey became engaged. His name was Nathan, and he was obviously far better adjusted than the awkward Ronnie. Clean cut with an easy smile, he and Halen seemed very much in love, and Lacey felt herself begin to breathe easier about the little sister she worried the most about.
But over time, Halen became more withdrawn. She stopped wearing makeup, which she'd always previously enjoyed putting on–"Nathan prefers me this way'-and she was losing weight rapidly, mostly because, as Lacey noticed, she wasn't eating.
"I just wonder what's going on with Halen," Lacey voiced to Jeff one night as they cleaned up after having her parents and sisters over for dinner. "Haven't you noticed she's losing weight? I hope she's not starving herself on purpose."
"Probably just a phase," Jeff shrugged. "I don't think you need to worry about it."
So she didn't for awhile, until one day when she was back at home measuring the incredibly beautiful, distressed vanity Stuart and Davy had finished. Distress was a relatively new look, and it appealed mightily to Lacey. But she needed to be sure the vanity would fit in their cramped bedroom.
Just as the measuring tape snapped back into place and Lacey stood up, stretching her back, she heard voices in the next room.
"There was birthday cake at Amanda,'s, Nathan. And I wanted some, okay? I mean, what was so wrong about the way I used to be? Was I not 'pretty' enough for you?" she heard Halen inquire in a salty tone.
Lacey furrowed her brow.
"No. Fat isn't pretty, Halen. You ought to know that. I want to see you in a bikini this summer before you go off to school."
Standing up a little straighter, Lacey strained to hear all the words.
"But I'm tired of trying so hard. I can't get much smaller for you."
"Then maybe you're going to have to find a guy a little more desperate than me," she heard Nathan shoot back. "Because when I'm in bed with you, do you know who I have to think about? Your sister."
Oh no.
Lacey didn't give it another thought before storming into Halen's bedroom.
"Get out."
Nathan jumped, swiveling his head quickly to look at her from where he stood next to Halen's bed. Her sister was sitting on it, appearing cornered. Tears were streaming down her face, and she was dabbing them with the neck of her shirt.
"Lacey, no, he doesn't mean it the way it–"
"Out." That was the only word Lacey could find herself able to say as she pointed toward the door. "You will not stand here and talk to my sister like she's your pet dog. She's twice the human being you will ever be. So get out and stay away from her, you little shit."
The venom spilled out of Lacey's mouth before she could stop it. How dare this kid be so cruel. And how brokenhearted she was that this was very obviously her younger sister's first real love. Ronnie had merely been practice. She'd seen the way Halen regarded Nathan, and sadly, it was in a way he didn't regard her.
Nathan slunk toward the door, shoving his hands into his pockets. It was all Lacey could do not to slap him in the back of the head as he passed. A moment later, she heard the front door slam, and she turned to regard Halen.
"Never, ever put up with that from a man, Halen. Do you not see what you're worth?" She sat down on the bed next to Halen, reaching out to embrace her. But her sister dodged her arms.
"Don't. Just don't," she sobbed. "You don't know him, you didn't understand what he was saying."
"I understood perfectly. He was shaming you for your body. Halen, that is not okay. It's verbal abuse."
"But what if he's the only one who will ever love me?!" Halen shouted angrily, her head in her hands.
"He didn't love you. I know you may not get it right now because you're angry…and probably brainwashed," Lacey replied softly to her sister's explosion. "But one day you'll understand why I had to do that."
Lacey sat with Halen for nearly an hour as her sister did nothing but cry. Finally, at the end of the tears, Halen sniffled. "Can I come live with you awhile?"
Taken aback, Lacey replied, "I'll have to talk to Jeff about it, Halen, I mean it's his house too. If he's okay with it, I am. But I thought you were going off to Concordia?"
Concordia College had been her sister's first choice of a school. It was a private college, and Halen–often misguided by her huge sense of adventure and idealism–wanted to study English Language Literature. What she planned to do with that degree she couldn't yet say. But her excellent grades in high school had granted her a scholarship, and Halen planned to use it.
…Lacey thought.
"I don't know if I'm going to Concordia right now. I think…I think I'm going to take a year off and just work."
Lacey simply stared. "Halen, do you know how many people don't go to or finish college because they want to take a 'gap year'? I don't want that to happen to you."
Halen peered over her, irritated. "Kristy took a gap year, and she just finished her degree this year, on time. Why do you think I wouldn't?"
Shaking her head quickly, Lacey backtracked. "Do what you feel you should do, Halen. I'm not the one to tell you what that is. I just…I worry about you guys. It's my prerogative as a big sister, you know?"
"Well, you can definitely be proud of Ariel," Halen spoke her twin's name with a disdain Lacey still hated to hear. "She's going to Crown College to become a stupid professor. Not that she's even half as smart as she thinks she is.
"Halen," Lacey spoke gently. "I know what Nathan just said, and it was bound to hurt. But you and Ariel are two different people. You should celebrate your differences. Not compare."
Halen was silent on the subject of Ariel afterward, but Lacey figured that was at least part of the reason she wanted a break from staying at home with her. Ariel was planning to commute to college presently, so she would still be living at her parents' house. And Halen would be too if she was planning on taking a gap year.
Jeff shrugged when Lacey asked him about Halen staying with them awhile, as he did over most things. "Hey, the more the merrier," he smiled. Lacey was grateful yet again for his flexibility.
Having Halen live with them went surprisingly well. She would have dinner ready most nights when Lacey came home from work, and enjoyed entertaining as much as Jeff and Lacey did. It had taken a little prodding from Lacey to get her to go find a job, but at last she did at, of all places, a pest control business. She served as the receptionist, answering phones and scheduling consultations and jobs. Halen's excellent customer service skills would certainly be appreciated, but Lacey truly hoped her sister wouldn't be so comfortable she stopped there.
By the fall, Jeff's mother had pressed hard enough to emit a wedding date from the couple. At last, they decided to tie the knot the coming July.
This sent Lacey into overdrive, making plan after plan. Halen and Kristy proved to be her biggest helpers, Ariel busy with school and her mom standing passively by. Lacey wasn't sure why her mom never seemed very happy about the wedding, even though she always insisted that that wasn't the case when pressed by Lacey.
"I told you, I'm just not good at this stuff. Your dad and I got married in a courthouse, and Stuart and I never went through with it. Let Halen and Kristy help. I'll give you my opinion when I feel the need to, trust me," her mom answered Lacey's anxious inquiry. Of course, she secretly wondered if her mom resented her for "taking" Halen away from her home. Stuart certainly didn't hold back, though never exactly blaming Lacey.
"I s'pose there's worse places she could be off to," Stuart expressed to her one day, almost mournfully.
Not long before Christmas, Lacey found a beautiful off-the-shoulder ivory dress that cascaded out into a series of tiny pleats. The minute she tried it on, everyone with her–her sisters, Kristy, her mom–burst out in a series of ooh's and ahh's. Chuckling, she checked every angle in the mirror, and thought this just might be the one.
"Such a classic beauty," the dress shop owner beamed. It was a mom and pop's place that Lacey never would have thought she would find the dress of her dreams at, but Kristy insisted she try it out.
"I know the woman who owns it, and trust me. She'll carry some top of the line stuff."
Lacey returned the glowing smile. "Thank you. This will be great. And do you have veils…?"
"Oh sure! They're in the back, I'll have to go get them. I don't display many because I just don't have a lot of room as you can see." She threw her arms up to indicate the small space. "Hang on. Hey Robbie? Will you turn that down?"
Her eyes instinctively followed the direction of the woman's voice and saw that behind her, in a little room with a half-open door, a TV was on and set to hockey.
There was a grunt as a kid leaned up and turned an old fashioned volume knob down a little.
"Forgive my son. It's that season, you know. The only one he cares about." The bubbly woman chuckled before rushing to the other side of the room and entering through another door.
Lacey glanced around, realizing each member of her little entourage was busy looking around at the other merchandise and having quiet conversations of their own. This gave Lacey the opportunity to step down from the bridal riser and wander closer to the room Robbie was in.
"The puck bounces to the corner. Herzog is there to collect it. He circles around, looking for a pass. He finds Banks in the slot. Banks shoots–SAVE by the goalie! Unbelievable reflexes to keep Adam Banks out of the net…"
The camera zoomed in on a figure wearing a dark purple helmet but whose face was unobscured.
For just a few seconds, Lacey stood face-to-face with Adam–he in his Sentinels uniform, her in her wedding dress, separated by a few hundred miles and a TV camera.
But it was close enough.
Her mouth went dry as Adam was shown skating off to the right, busy about grabbing his next opportunity. And just like that…
"Okay, here we go!" The shopkeeper pushed a cart toward her, a summons for Kristy and Ariel to stop their conversation and join her mom and Halen in front of the veils. "Now let's find just the perfect thing!"
The room was now too hot, the shopkeeper's voice too cheerful, and the lights too bright. But none of this could be permitted to stop Lacey from carrying out this duty. No matter that Adam himself was slaying it on the ice just behind her.
Taking a few deep breaths to heft this mighty distraction out of the way, Lacey chose an elbow-length, "mantilla" veil, thin and gauzy, to satisfy her future mother-in-law who would never abide her not wearing a veil. There would be plenty of other battles Lacey was determined to win. This one wasn't a big deal to her.
But following the mostly-pleasant experience of finding a dress, the battles began in earnest.
Barbara made the trip down to Minneapolis for a planning session just a few days before Christmas Eve, bringing her daughters with her. Her first order of business was to give an unabashedly passive-aggressive lecture to Lacey for having waited this late to choose flowers, food, and other reception details.
"Of course some people don't know exactly how much goes into planning a wedding, so I don't fault you, Darling. Okay! Let's get started." In the corner of a cozy little cafe called Drips, who served amazing paninis, Barbara pulled a notebook from her bag as her daughters looked on silently. Lacey suddenly envisioned Ursula and her eels from The Little Mermaid.
"Sorry I'm late," Darlene breezed in, having dressed up slightly for the occasion, a thing Lacey truly appreciated. Her mom typically wore jeans and very simple tops, but today she had donned a nice, knee-length sheath dress with tights and boots. She looked adorable, and Lacey grinned. "It's okay, Mom. Meet Barbara–Mrs. Breckenridge–and this is Lane, Carrie, and Marsha."
Marsha gave a kind smile, followed by brisk ones from her mom and sisters.
"Darlene," Barbara greeted, holding out her hand while surveying her mother up and down.
"Hi," Darlene smiled, shaking the other woman's hand and sitting down. "So, what are we doing?
Lacey flushed a bit at her mom's direct manner. "Well, we're picking out stuff for the reception."
"Oh, okay. Easy enough." Her mom glanced at the cafe menu for a moment while Lacey turned her attention back to the Breckenridge women.
"I'd like an evening outdoor reception with a tent and lots of tastefully placed string lights. Jeff and I enjoy them at home. It gives off a sort of festive, magical atmosphere." She felt dumb for using the word "magical", but she couldn't quite put into any other words how to phrase the ambiance she was going for for her reception.
Barbara cleared her throat. "Of course. Outside. The church has a beautiful courtyard."
"Oh," Lacey cut in. "I didn't really want to have the reception at a church. It would feel disrespectful if people had too much to drink, and you know that always happens. I was actually looking up places in Slayton on the internet, and I found a really nice country club I've already inquired about. I wondered if, on my next trip over, we could all look at it together?" She kept her voice pleasant despite the withering stare she was receiving from Jeff's mother.
But the stately woman soon thawed, and compromised on much more than Lacey was afraid she would. Yet she was obviously displeased by the choice of a venue, the simple flowers Lacey wanted to carry and decorate with, and she absolutely did not want a DJ.
"A nice string quartet would be better," she winked at Lacey.
"Harps would fit the environment nicely," Carrie cut in, raking her hands, as she seemed to do often, through her bleach blonde hair. "I know a guy. Trust me, it'll be better."
Her mom, who had mostly been listening silently, cut in. "Well, they're young, you know? A DJ might be a little more their speed. Now if you or I were getting married, it might be a different story," she flashed a smirk to Barbara, who sat up a bit straighter, regarding her mother with annoyance.
"That might be something for you to think about, definitely," she leveled what was a thinly disguised insult to Darlene. "As for me, I'm committed for life and have been for thirty years."
Lacey bit her lip as she glanced over at her mom, who was keeping her composure quite well. But her smile turned stiff as she nodded. "Right. I'll keep it in mind, how about that?"
Moving on quickly, Lacey turned her attention to food. She and the Breckenridges blessedly agreed on the hors d'oeuvres to be served, and Marsha was very vocal about loving the cake that had been selected.
They almost made it through the entire ordeal, notes being scratched furiously on all sides, when suddenly a remark from Lacey turned Barbara wide-eyed.
"What? Sweetie…no," Barbara laughed in a condescending fashion when she learned the answer to a question they should frankly have discussed at the beginning of the conversation. "Orange doesn't go in a wedding."
Lacey paused. She had seen the beautiful, summery combination of cornflower blue and light orange at a wedding show and had fallen in love with it. Tilting her head, she inquired, "Why not?"
"W-well, it just doesn't." Barbara reached to quickly take a big sip of her tea. "Orange carries no class."
"I know it's a little different," Lacey ventured. "But if you'll let me show you some pictures, I think you'll see why I like it."
"No, I don't need to see them," Barbara waved the offer away. "You haven't already ordered your attendants' dresses yet, have you? It's not too late to change them. I was thinking maybe a nice mauve and grey, accented with some forest green.. Wouldn't that be much better? Let's see, so if we do that, we can change your flowers to–"
"I'm sorry," Lacey felt the roots of her hair stand up with her mounting anger. "I like these colors. They're what I'm going to use."
Mrs. Breckenridge gave a patient smile, and the two oldest daughters shook their heads at one another with a sympathetic look. "I realize you've not likely been to many weddings of this caliber, Lacey, which is why I hope you'll heed my advice. Orange does not belong in a wedding," she stated firmly. "So we'll just make the changes that we need, and I know you'll be much happier when you see your pictures later. By the way, what photographer did you choose?"
But before Lacey could respond, her mom spoke up.
"Let's back up for just a minute. Lacey wants orange in her wedding. Period. You or I may not agree with it being a flattering color, but she's the one getting married here. So let's keep this about her, why don't we?"
Lacey could see the skin right above the neckline of Barbara's conservative navy blouse begin to flush red. "Mrs. McBrayer…oh that's right, you're not married, so Mrs. Primmer…I've been to plenty of weddings over the years, and trust me, I know what's suitable and what's not."
"What's suitable," Darlene raised her voice slightly, "is letting a bride choose what she wants. This is hopefully going to be a one-time thing for my daughter, and she can paint the entire church in orange if she wants to. So back off, Barb."
Barbara jumped a little when the nickname rolled off Darlene's tongue, and she pressed her lips together tightly before looking back to her notebook.
"I think certain shades of orange are pretty," Marsha supplied. "And I agree, you should be able to choose your own colors." The mousy woman peered over at her mom and other two sisters the way a nature photographer in Africa might peer over at a pride of man-eating lions hovering closeby.
"Yes, well pretty or not, she's going to have them, aren't you?" Darlene smiled all too big at Lacey.
Lacey nodded, prepared to go head to head with Barbara and if she had to.
The woman at last backed down, though she let her frustration be known throughout the rest of the planning.
When it was all over and as they walked to their vehicles, Darlene issued an obligatory invitation for the Breckenridge women to join them for dinner that night. "Not that we're fancy, so it may have to be Outback. But that'll work for you, right?"
"I actually need to get back in time for Ladies' Bible Study," Barbara replied hastily before returning to her car without another word.
"Can you believe that woman? She is unreal! God, good luck marrying into that family," Lacey's mother shook her head.
"Well, I think I know how to handle her," Lacey replied confidently. "You just have to stand up for yourself, right? I learned that from you."
Darlene paused before turning to go find her own car, and gave a little smile. "There's another one for my list of the few things I did right by you girls, huh?"2004
One Spring day as the wedding drew ever closer, after having experienced a particularly grueling home visit and finding that the child she was checking up on was having trouble re-adjusting, Lacey decided on something she only allowed herself to do occasionally: she wanted to treat herself to a strawberry muffin and coffee. And there was only one place she knew of that served strawberry muffins and coffee to die for: The Daily Grind.
As she entered, she was welcomed by the familiar tinkling of a bell. Shaking the snow off her boots and taking off her coat, she looked around. Each time Lacey came, she expected the place to have changed at least a little. But it rarely did, except for the occasional rearranging of furniture and, of course, the paintings on the walls.
She made her way to the counter and gave her order, dropping a couple dollars into the tip jar, and turned around, stopping in her tracks.
There, a few feet away, stood Yvette.
She hadn't seen the woman in two and a half years, and a smile crossed her lips as she heard the familiar voice, saw the woman's classic ponytail held in place by a colorful scarf. Yvette wore a poncho and patchwork clogs that doubtlessly came from a Grade A boutique, maybe not even in the US. Not wishing to eavesdrop, but interested in hearing what Yvette was talking about, she listened in, keeping her distance. It seemed the woman was picking up a check from the manager for the works she had evidently sold in the last month, informing him of when she would be bringing more paintings.
All of a great sudden, Lacey felt like turning and walking out.
Or did she?
Part of her also wanted to go up and throw her arms around the woman. But what might Yvette have to say to her? Did she know about what happened in the days following September 11?
Soon the decision was made for her. Just as Lacey was debating what to do, the barista set a coffee and saucer on the counter.
"Order ready for Lacey!" the name rang out loud and clear.
Yvette turned around quickly, scanning the counter until her eyes locked on Lacey's.
Not knowing what to do, Lacey turned to get her order from the counter, giving Yvette the opportunity to leave if she wanted.
"Lacey?" Yvette took a step toward her.
"Yvette… I mean, Ms. Landon…" Lacey began, flustered as she held her muffin in one hand and her latte in the other.
"Yvette," the woman corrected warmly. "It will always be Yvette. Would you care for some company?"
Oh my.
"I… sure," Lacey forced a smile, making her way over to the booth she'd hoped to snag–the one she and Adam had sat at after his first doctor's appointment so long ago–grateful it was empty. But what would it be like now, sitting across from Adam's mother?
Yvette slid into the seat across from her. "It's so good to see you. I heard you were working for the county's social services department. That's very noble of you, and you're very well-suited."
"Thank you, I try to make a difference where I can. Would you like a coffee?"
"Oh no, I try not to drink anything but decaf this late in the evening," Yvette chuckled. "So tell me how you're doing these days, Lacey."
Lacey filled Yvette in on her job, her paintings, her family, and what the end of school had been like. Then, finally, there was the topic she knew was only fair to share with the woman who had been like a second mother to her for three glorious years.
"And I'm...um, getting married. This coming July." She pressed on a smile, hoping she seemed truly happy to Yvette. But something about the whole thing–the planning, the cake, the dress– suddenly felt plastic.
Yvette paused only briefly before offering her own smile, much warmer. "Lacey, that's good news. I'm glad you've found someone to make you happy. You know, I was around twenty-four when Phil and I married. It's a good age, as long as you know what you want and you're settled."
She was being so kind, and her smile was definitely genuine. But Lacey also picked up on a hint of tension in the woman's tone. Lacey began to doubt then whether she should have said anything about the wedding. But it felt wrong to run into Yvette here, be asked what was going on in her life, and leave this very big part out only for her to find out later.
Overcome by the need to change the subject, Lacey ventured cheerfully, "So how have you and Phil been? And Travis?" She hoped Phil had never broken the news to the rest of the family of her foolishness with the oven the night she fell asleep, and of the payments she was still having to send his way.
But if she knew anything, Yvette certainly didn't mention it. During their conversation, Lacey learned that Travis had indeed married Candace, and Yvette felt it a very good match. Grandpa Greg was well, a thing which Lacey already knew. He had continued to send Christmas cards each year to her parents' house, doubtlessly not knowing her new address. It meant something she didn't even have words to describe.
It was when the conversation slowed that Lacey finally couldn't stop herself.
"And Adam?" she ventured carefully.
Yvette took a deep breath, studying her fingernails for a moment, then looking back up. "Adam's doing well. He's having an amazing season so far with the Sentinels. And I do watch his games despite the fact that…" she shuddered. "Let's just say that if I thought pee-wee hockey was too hard to watch, I had a lot to learn."
"I'm sure." It was everything Lacey could do not to confide that she'd seen a snippet of a game just a few weeks prior. "How are his teammates?"
"Lovely group of guys," Yvette beamed. "We met the majority of them at Thanksgiving when we went down to visit. I'm grateful for them since…well, you know Adam…he needs people around to give him that extra little push so he'll loosen up and have some fun."
Lacey noticed that Yvette hadn't brought up Adam's RA. Might that mean it wasn't an issue presently? Hopefully it wasn't.
"Yeah, I um…" she paused to break off part of her muffin, but didn't eat it. "...I thought about reaching out to him somehow to check in, you know? It's been awhile since everything, and I really do care about how he's doing. But I'm pretty sure he would have a different phone number by now… and anyway, I imagine it would be hard to reach him these days. So I thought maybe I should just leave well enough alone."
"I think that was a wise choice, Lacey. It's best that you two keep things in the past."
There was a hint of uncharacteristic firmness in Yvette's voice and Lacey swallowed hard, nodding. "Yvette, I never meant to hurt him. It's just, we were young, and…I didn't really know if I could handle the hockey obsession long-term. I didn't want things to end badly, but at the time, letting him go felt like the thing I needed to do."
"I know that, Hon," Yvette leaned in to catch Lacey's eye. "It's just that I can't promise you Adam feels the same way about it. But it's my hope that the more time that goes by, the easier it will become for him to let go."
Lacey looked up at her. "He's still hurting?"
"Well," Yvette began carefully, "he's never talked about it to me. Not for a very long time. But a mom knows things."
Lacey looked down again, thinking about her own mother and how she, too, seemed to detect the restless undercurrent of Lacey's soul since she'd let go of the relationship she had so cherished.
Finally she looked back up, and Yvette smiled at her. "It's okay, you know. You're right. You were both very young. I can understand why you ended it with him. But as I say, I don't know that he ever did, and all I ask of you now is that you leave him alone." Yvette's tone was kind, but the message was very clear.
She had no business trying to contact Adam now.
The reality sank in Lacey's stomach like a rock, taking her back to a heartache she thought was long healed.
"I-I understand."
Yvette nodded. "Thank you."
Lacey took another sip of her latte, hoping at this point the exchange could be over so she could sit in the booth and cry alone.
"I want you to look at something." Yvette gestured to the far wall, where a beautiful, impressionistic heart was painted in what seemed to be a billion different shades. Accented in gold leaf, the image at once struck Lacey- who could now, thanks to Yvette, appreciate art even more and read into its symbolism - as a painting about love and all its complexities. There were even the tiniest flecks of black interspersed, which could remind the viewer of its imperfections and cracks.
"That's beautiful, Yvette. Did you do it?"
"Guilty," Yvette winked. "And do you know, I actually painted it after 9/11 when I heard you visited Adam in New York."
Lacey's eyes widened. "You knew about that?"
"I did know. Adam told me you came to check on him after that terrible day. And that's when I had the inspiration to paint it." Yvette turned to observe her own painting. "Love is difficult, and it's messy. But it's still love. And sweet beginnings should never fall under the shadow of difficult endings, Lacey." She turned back around. "I know things didn't end as either of you would have liked. But don't let that tarnish your good memories of having experienced a love like that."
Lacey looked at Yvette for a moment, her eyes pooling, before smiling at her in gratitude. Yvette smiled back, and for a second, Lacey was taken back to the first time she'd met the woman, years ago at a random Autumn Bazaar.
"Matter of fact, I want you to have it."
Lacey raised her eyebrows. "What?"
"Yes! Take it. I had it hanging in my gallery for years until I finally decided it was time to let go of it. And what better person to let it go to? Please, I insist."
It was everything Lacey could do not to allow the tears to spill down onto her cheeks. "... Thank you."
"Of course! Do what you want with it. It's yours," Yvette smiled.
"No, I mean… yes, thank you for the gorgeous painting, but also for being so good to me. Even though… you know," Lacey finished awkwardly.
"I do know," Yvette nodded. "And you're quite welcome. Now, let me go see who can help us get that picture down off the wall."
Lacey soon said her goodbye to Yvette, trying to keep from blubbering, and carefully placed the heart painting in her car to take home. She would hang it up in her living room, because it was beautiful. No matter what it represented. And Jeff didn't necessarily need to know.
Not that it would bother him. He knew she had dated someone before him, and that it was rather serious. But he never acted jealous, and never seemed very affected. However, Lacey had also only shared a very little bit with him. It was something she would hold in her heart forever, but it had to remain hers alone.
/
"Okay okay here it is! The flash is off, right?"
Adam double checked Morrigan's new camera phone to be sure. "Yeah, it is. Go go."
He turned discreetly toward the table nearby where Michelle Pfeifer sat, cross-legged and as beautiful as ever, chatting intimately with a couple who was decked out every bit as glamorous as she was. It was hard for him not to stare, still registering the fact that, almost overnight, he carried the paycheck and the prestige to take his old buddy dining at the illustrious Rainbow Room in New York.
As quick as his bulky frame could manage, Morrigan, pretending to retrieve a dropped fork, paused as he stooped down and flashed his big, merry grin. He managed to fit perfectly in the frame "beside" the oblivious Michelle Pfeifer who was taking a sip of red wine. Adam snapped the picture.
The quality on these phones was terrible, particularly after he was used to handling his state-of-the-art Nikon. But they were convenient, and allowed for spontaneously memorable moments such as these.
Morrigan jumped back into his seat and Adam held out the phone. His friend studied the picture Adam had snagged for him and let out a low whistle. "Nobody's gonna believe this. Think I should send it to my mom?"
"No," Adam snorted, just tipsy enough not to care. "It would just make you look desperate?"
"I am desperate."
"You know, I could always try going over and asking if she would take a picture with you the old fashioned way. Think she's a big hockey fan?"
"Hell no," Morrigan expressed a little louder than he should have. "That would just make it weird. A rising NHL star and his thirteen-year-old fanboy."
"Suit yourself."
Morrigan had opted to stay in New York City following his graduation, a year prior to Adam's, to try his fortune at being a sportscaster. It was going to be a long road for him, and Adam wondered if he would not be more successful starting out in a smaller place. But Morrigan had been persistent and worked his way up from sports announcing at a high school in The Bronx to announcing for the small Hunter College. And Adam truly hoped the road would keep leading up for his gregarious, faithful buddy.
"So tell me," Morrigan ventured with a mischievous smirk. Already, Adam knew what this was going to be about. "Any good chicks where you are?"
"Oh yeah. You get to meet about any type of lady you want," Adam couldn't help but play along. "You have the models and actresses you meet at events, the reporters–"
"Heck yeah, reporters! Don't think I haven't noticed the team reporter for the Sentinels. The perky blonde?"
"Yeah, Paige. Then there are the puck bunnies who are always trying to push their way in somewhere." Adam took a sip of his Vesper.
Morrigan let out a hardy laugh that caused Adam to flash a glance around them. "Don't suppose you've been busy laying that Banksie charm on?"
"Nah," Adam replied, toying with his straw. "Stuff like that's just a distraction in season."
"And now that we're in the off-season?"
Adam raised a brow. "It remains to be seen, my friend."
Truth be told, Adam frankly wouldn't be opposed to a dalliance now that his first season was over. However, it would have to be the perfect situation–in other words, a woman who was comfortable with the knowledge that he would all but disappear when the fall came around. And that could be difficult to find.
But all in all, Adam felt pretty good about life. It was the first time since his Ducks days that he actually had friends–in his teammates of course, but Morrigan being primary. He stayed in his Savannah house during breaks in season, but for the summer he had come back to the penthouse he had secured. Savannah was great and all, but he had learned the hard way from the summer previous that the heat could be unbearable, the air like breathing through a steaming wet handkerchief. He just wasn't willing to suffer for months like that, so he opted to stay in New York City between visits home.
He'd been psyched to learn last year that his old Ducks teammate Mendoza opted to also move to NYC to become a firefighter after having been inspired, as so many other guys were the last few years, to join the ranks of some of the most heroic men in the country.
"Yeah, I know it's not gonna be glamor," Mendoza had replied after Adam had, over the phone, tried to ready his friend for the fact that the New York firefighter image had had its "moment in the sun" so to speak, but the pre- and post-9/11 reality of a firefighter's life was a lot different from how it looked on TV and in magazines. "But those guys, they were ready to go down for the people in their city. I want to work alongside people like that, you know? I wanna learn from the best."
It actually proved fortuitous for Morrigan as, upon meeting, he and Mendoza decided to acquire a tiny, cramped apartment together in Hell's Kitchen, even if they were each forking it over hand over fist to maintain it.
It was hard to see his buddies struggling to make a living while Adam suddenly had money for just about anything he wanted. That's why, although he wanted to make wise decisions, he had confided in Morrigan that he would help if times ever got tough. He also offered up the penthouse if things got too hard.
Mendoza was keeping much better tabs on the other Ducks than Adam had managed to do, and talked to several of them regularly. It seemed that almost everyone was doing well for themselves. Jesse had finally married Aselle, Julie was working her way up through the ranks of becoming a serious chef, Guy and Connie were engaged, and Portman decided being a police officer was way too much hassle and was working alongside Fulton in construction.
As for hockey, both Mendoza and Morrigan were playing for a local league. They often talked about the bragging rights they had with the team that they knew–and were actual friends with–an NHL hockey player.
"A freshman NHL hockey player," Adam wryly corrected. "Not much prestige comes with that in the hockey world."
But it was here–in Mendoza and Morrigan's responding stares–that Adam was faced with the truth about something he'd been trying to skirt around: he was not, nor would he ever again be, just Adam Banks from Edina. He had effectively cashed in normalcy for a way of life he himself hadn't fully registered yet. The fact that he had–albeit reluctantly–just gone to a party at the end of the season where Jessica Simpson and Nick Lachey were in attendance said everything.
And yeah, there was the money. Of course, Adam had always lived comfortably and now was no exception, except that "comfort" had evolved into something a little more luxurious and he found himself giving gifts and buying rounds at the bar more lavishly. Still, though, in the big scheme of things and certainly compared to his teammates' habits, Adam wasn't a particularly big spender, stashing most of his extravagant income for a rainy day. It comforted him to just know that now, if his parents' money ever ran out, he could effectively pick up the bill for any care they may need in their older years.
But all of these perks added up to this: he couldn't expect anything other than the glazed-over way his buddies back in the "real" world looked at him when he tried to make himself sound like he was still one of them…and he really should stop kidding himself.
Ever persistent, Morrigan returned to the subject at hand–women. "Are we thinking something pretty top-shelf? Like, an actual relationship? Or just–"
"Think I've got time for that? No way," Adam cut in. "I can barely find time to go take a piss." This wasn't a phrase Adam would formerly have used, but his language was progressively becoming saltier the more time he spent out on the ice with some of the world's most accomplished cursers. "If it's gonna be anything, it'll just be… you know, the usual."
Morrigan clucked his tongue and took another sip of his drink. "Okay, but dude? You cannot possibly say you've had a cooler experience at a restaurant, and you definitely can't say you've spent two hundred bucks on food in one place before. Or, okay, maybe you can, Gretzky, but I sure can't. And wasn't it worth it all anyway for those endless legs?"
Adam chuckled. Michelle Pfeifer wasn't necessarily his celebrity crush, but he would humor Morrigan. "All right, well maybe a little. But I have a question. You said you thought about making a reservation for this place months ago and using your tax check to pay for it. Did you really have me in mind to bring with you? I mean I guess when you figured I'd pick up the bill anyway…"
"Pffft! No way. I was hoping to score Lana for it. Thought maybe it would be my one big shot with her."
"Lana? Lana Fisher, the basketball star for Columbia?" Adam was incredulous. "I'd say that one was a little out of your league right from the start."
"Oh yeah? Thanks for the vote of confidence, Buddy. A sportscaster wannabe has to look for a leg-up somewhere. And anyway, she's already dating some med school student. So you were my backup. Took a big step down," Morrigan peered over, but Adam just shook his head.
"Good thing you had one."
The two of them continued to needle one another good-naturedly until they got back to Morrigan's apartment. After they said their goodbyes, Adam hailed a cab for the three mile trek from Hell's Kitchen to the much more affluent Tribeca. On the off-season, at least, he really wanted to look like everybody else and not draw attention by having a nice car pick him up. That said, he also didn't relish being mugged for all he was worth in the slums, either.
It was when he finally reached Hudson Tower, rode the elevator up the requisite number of floors and made it to his front door that it occurred to him how exhausted he was. He unlocked the door and entered the spacious front hall, heading for the winding staircase that would take him to his bed. But before he could succumb to sleep, he had a call to make. Taking out his phone, he punched in the numbers and put it to his ear, waiting.
"Mom? Hey! Happy birthday."
"Aww, thank you, Honey! I thought you'd just forgotten. And who could blame you, the kind of hours you're keeping?"
"No, I wouldn't forget your birthday," Adam smiled, reaching his bedroom and turning on the lights. The lighting in this place just couldn't be beat; it was part of what had drawn him to buy this particular penthouse out of the many that could be found in Tribeca. "I just hadn't had a chance to call until now. We were out."
"You and…?" He could hear the smile in his mom's voice.
"Mom? No," he sighed. "I told you, no women right now."
"Then who'd you go out with?"
"Gee, Mom, If you must know, I went out with Morrigan to this place he's been wanting to go to. Nothing exciting." Adam stepped over to the high windows to take in the view of the city.
"I'm sorry Honey. I was just hoping, you know, you'd found somebody to go out with sometimes. Somebody besides Morrigan and Mendoza."
"Not yet, but I haven't exactly had time. I promise though, you'll be the first to know when I do." It was kind of a lie, but one he hoped would give closure to the topic. "So did you do pretty well selling paintings this month?"
It was a question he tried to remember to ask her at the end of each month. His mom mostly did commissions nowadays, but she still sold some of her work at various venues, one of those being The Daily Grind, and she always went to pick up her checks around the twenty-fifth or so. This had actually been her first time to go collecting since before Easter, and he hoped for her sake she'd made what she was expecting.
"I did," she answered. "Or, at least at the coffee shop, where I usually make the most, anyway. But of course it's not about the amount of money I get. It's–"
"-Seeing which paintings are gone, and wondering what type of people bought them," he smiled, eyes closed. "You're really something, Mom."
But instead of laughing, his mom had paused.
"So what's going on?" He opened his eyes again. "How's Dad's bronchitis?"
"Oh. It's…I mean, that's fine, Honey. You don't need to worry about us. But there's something I feel like I need to tell you. I didn't really want to, but I also don't want you finding out some other way."
"Finding out what?" Adam turned away from the view, wanting to focus.
"...Lacey. She's getting married."
Suddenly the bottom fell out of his stomach. When he finally managed to speak, he heard the slight tremor in his own voice. "What? To who?"
"I don't think that really matters, I mean…not that I know, of course. We didn't get quite that far into the conversation. I saw her when I went to pick up money, and we talked a little bit. I'm assuming it's someone she met in college, or maybe on the job. She's worked at social services for a little while now. Anyway, I knew it might be hard for you to hear, but she does seem to be happy. And I know that's something that was always important to you. I was surprised to see her in that part of town, but it was nice to after so long. She said she was there especially to grab a strawberry muffin."
Of course. Lacey did love their strawberry muffins. And he remembered that the first one she'd ever had was on his dime.
"Babe? I'm sorry, maybe I shouldn't have told you after all."
Adam fell back on his bed fully clothed, running a hand over his face. "No, Mom, it's okay. You were right, I'd want to know. I mean, she was a good friend even before she was anything else."
"Adam," he heard the admonition in his mother's voice. "I know what you're doing. You're trying to put on a good face for me, but you don't have to. I haven't forgotten how special Lacey was to you. Anger doesn't just erase a history, but if I'm allowed to be honest, I think it's why you hold onto it. You need a reason to keep from loving her."
Adam stared at the ceiling, feeling a lump form in his throat, and though he tried to swallow it down, when he opened his mouth again his voice was a little thick. "But it's over. So it didn't matter. None of it did."
"That isn't true," his mom replied firmly. "And you know it. I actually told Lacey the same thing when I saw her. Just because love doesn't last doesn't mean it never mattered–"
"You talked to her about me?" He interrupted. "I mean, did she say anything about me, did she ask how I was or…or anything?"
"She did. She asked about you, and it didn't take her very long to. She cares how you're doing."
When Adam closed his eyes again, he felt water in them but tried to convince himself it was due to his chronically dry eyes. "Did you tell her how the season went?"
Is she proud of me? Did she want to know if I was dating anyone? How would she have felt if you said yes? And who the hell is this man she's marrying?
"I did," his mom replied softly. "Because I don't think closure for either of you is going to come in simply never hearing the other's name again, or knowing what each other is doing. Your love was very real, no matter how young you were. I believe that. So it's unrealistic to expect yourself to just cram her memory down in your brain. You need to grieve, Adam, you need to have the chance to let her go gracefully."
"Mom," came his impatient response. "I do not need to grieve."
He said this not because he actually believed he shouldn't grieve. It was because he knew if he started, he wouldn't be able to stop.
"I think you do, Honey. What if you saw someone to help you process it?"
"Absolutely not," Adam nixed the idea immediately. "To go in there and tell some random clown, 'I haven't gotten over my girlfriend from four years ago'? No, thank you. Mom, I need to go. I've got to get up early for the gym."
His mom paused. "Okay. I know, you're so faithful to do that. Maybe pass off some of that resolve to me?"
Adam forced a smile and a light tone. "Sure thing. Get to the gym. Wear those pink sweatpants Candace got you for Christmas with 'Sassy' written across the butt in rhinestones."
"Hey, perfect choice for the job. Love you, Babe."
After he and his mom hung up, Adam sat on the edge of his bed, staring out at the passing traffic absently.
How to process this? How to even think about it without having to shut the world out and go to bed for at least two weeks? Even thinking about it now caused him to feel a rock on his chest so heavy it damn nearly crushed him.
Finally he stood up and went over to his closet, reaching up onto the shelf and pulling down a box of important papers and personal effects he had hung onto. There inside, stuffed underneath papers and envelopes in the bottom corner of the box, rested a smaller one. Adam took it out now, opening it up to reveal the aquamarine ring he had spent so much time trying to pick out for the girl he'd absolutely known, as a twenty-year-old, that he'd marry one day. The jewel glinted in the various lights filtering from the busy New York street into his room.
For a moment, he considered what all he might do with it. He could give it to Travis to give to Candace, who also had a March birthday. Or he could pawn it off. Then there was always the option of having the metal melted down into something else.
But all he wanted to do now was hold it tightly to his chest. It was all he had left of a time when he'd felt so happy, in love, and free. It was one he was sure couldn't be repeated, no matter his status, or his money, or his access to anybody he wanted. And one, if he had anything to do with it, wouldn't be.
Tears, bottled up, fell freely.
