June:
"I'm sorry the person you are calling is not available. Please leave a message after the tone."
"Ugh, not again" grumbled Michaela, shifting her book bag in a vain attempt to stop the strap biting into her shoulder.
"Sully, it's me," she continued impatiently after the prolonged beep, "I don't know where you are or why you have been ignoring my calls and messages for the last two days. But I'm fed up of trying to reach you. So as of now, I'm giving up. I'll be home all weekend if you feel like calling me back.
"Oh and change your voicemail message," she snapped, "this one is lame and annoying."
With a scowl, Michaela flipped the cell phone shut and muttering angrily about unreliable boys, she made her way out into the forecourt.
"Hey, private school girl."
The familiar voice made her whirl round in surprise.
"Sully?" she breathed as she spotted him leaning against a rather ugly stone figurine flanking the front gate, "what are you doing here?"
"I came to see you of course, surprise!" replied Sully happily, shoving his hands into jeans, "plus I couldn't miss the wedding of the century."
"I've been trying to reach you for days." continued Michaela shortly, some of her previous ire bubbling back up,
"Left me another message did you?" grinned Sully, pulling out his phone. "Was it mean?"
"Well, I was upset," mumbled Michaela, shifting uncomfortably.
"It was mean," laughed Sully, as he listened intently to the bitter diatribe on his voicemail, "I'll add it to the collection."
"Coffee?" he suggested as Michaela blushed three shades of red.
"Yes, please," replied Michaela gratefully, "this week's been insane. I'm completely exhausted."
Suddenly becoming aware of the curious glances being cast in their direction by her fellow class mates, Michaela quickly grabbed Sully's arm and steered him towards the gate.
"Friends of yours?" teased Sully as a group of girls began heading towards them, their intent obvious.
"Those girls are not your type," muttered Michaela, "trust me."
"And you know what my type is?" queried Sully, as they made their way swiftly down the street and in the direction of Michaela's favourite coffee house.
"For all you know I might really like posh girls in pleated skirts and blazers."
"Yeah, sure, Sully," giggled Michaela, "hey, maybe if you learn to french braid hair and paint your nails, they'll invite you to their next slumber party."
"Hey!" exclaimed Michaela, laughing, as Sully escaped through the open door of the coffee house and left it to swing back in her face, "cut it out."
The coffee house was busy but months of practice had honed Michaela's table nabbing skills and she managed to secure a small table by the window whilst Sully ordered.
"So, I thought you said you weren't going to be able to make it to the wedding," began Michaela, casually stirring several heaped teaspoonfuls of sugar into her coffee cup.
"I wasn't," replied Sully, "but I managed to pull a few strings and shifted some work days around and well, here I am."
"What about school?"
"Sorted," assured Sully, "my mum's cool with me missing a few days off school. Though if anyone asks, I'm home with mono."
"Mono?" giggled Michaela, "very original."
"Well, it's a classic," replied Sully solemnly. "So, how's the wedding planning coming?"
"A nightmare," groaned Michaela. "It's a really good thing Becky is here and managing to keep everyone calm, otherwise I think Mum would have murdered Marjorie by now. Everything's such a big drama; the flowers, the cake, the linens. I swear, when it's my turn to get married, I'm just going to elope."
"What about the guy," queried Sully, "doesn't he get a say in it?"
"Nope," continued Michaela cheerfully, "he's marrying me. Isn't that enough?"
"Duly noted," chuckled Sully, pushing the sugar bowl safely out of Michaela's reach.
"Wake up, you're going to be late."
"Go away," moaned Sully, "its 7am and the wedding's not til 2. I don't need to be up for at least another 3 hours."
The last three days had passed by in a blur of tulle and floral decorations and Sully, who had barely clocked three hours sleep a night since his arrival in the Quinn home, was starting to regret his decision to visit in time for the wedding.
"Nice try," called Michaela from the door, "Mum's already in full blown panic mode so if you want to survive to see tomorrow, I suggest you get up and out of the way, pronto."
"I think I'm starting to see the advantage of eloping," grumbled Sully, pulling the blanket over his head as the sound of yet another heated discussion filtered down the stairs towards the sofa bed.
"Told you so," laughed Michaela as she continued on towards the kitchen and breakfast.
One o'clock found the Quinn residence filled to bursting point. Elizabeth had initially pushed hard for a church wedding. Though not desperately religious, she had married Joseph in church and felt that it was the right thing to do. Marjorie however, was dead set against the idea and was desperate to have a fancy, Hollywood-esque hotel affair that would undoubtedly have cost about the same as a new car. Four heated arguments and three bouts of tears later, they had finally agreed to have the entire wedding at home. The beautifully landscaped garden would be a perfect setting for the ceremony and the large marquee they had rented could easily accommodate the thirty or so guests that had been invited to the reception. Unfortunately, the garden could only be accessed through the house thus the hallway had become a minefield of poles and cables as the photographers struggled to set up their equipment whilst negotiating around the mob of guests fighting their way to the best seats.
"Hey, Billy," called Sully as he jumped deftly over a trailing cable and made his way to the front door, "all set for the big day?"
"Sure," replied the groom-to-be, nervously fingering his shirt collar. "So, they didn't manage to get you to agree to the three piece suit, huh?"
"They tried," shrugged Sully, "but the airline just happened to lose my bag that had the waistcoat and tie in."
"No kidding," laughed Billy with a knowing look, "what are the odds of that happening?"
"Fate can be a cruel, cruel thing," mused Sully with an expression of mock dejection.
"Hey, here comes your date," teased Billy as he spotted Michaela picking her way across the hallway towards them.
"She's not my…"
"Yeah, yeah I know," interposed Billy with a smirk, "you're "just friends". Well, I'm outta here. Enjoy the wedding."
And with a nod in the direction of his future sister in law, he headed off towards the patio and make shift bar stand.
"You look great," offered Sully, as Michaela finally made it to his side.
"I can't walk in these shoes," grumbled Michaela, glaring down at the pink, satin heels she had been forced into wearing, "and my toes are all squished up. Trust Marjorie to pick shoes that will impede my ability to walk for the next two weeks."
"Well, we all have our crosses to bear," teased Sully, leaning back against the wall as a photographer with an oversized lamp struggled past, "I, for example, have to deal with wearing the most comfortable shoes I own."
"Stop rubbing it in," snapped Michaela, pulling off her right shoe and massaging her toes, "I wish I was a boy. Then I wouldn't have to deal with any of this nonsense."
"Coming through!"
Michaela barely had time to look up as the vast canvas screen caught her left side and she was knocked sideways into the patio door. The door burst open at the unexpected weight and with a strangled cry, she thrust her hands out in front of her to break her fall. The shock however had slowed her reaction time and the paving stones seemingly flew up to meet her right side with a dull crunch.
"Michaela!" yelped Sully, jumping deftly through the open door to help her up.
"My dress," whimpered Michaela, "is it ok? Marjorie will kill me if I ruin her big day."
"Forget the dress a minute," replied Sully, choking down the desire to laugh, "are you ok?"
Reaching out to grab Sully's hand, Michaela bit back a grimace.
"My wrist," she ground out, "hurts like hell."
"Do you think it's broken?" queried Sully, probing the bones uncertainly as though hoping a fracture would suddenly jump out and reveal itself.
"I don't know," replied Michaela, her brows drawing together as she considered the possibility, "but we can't do anything about it now. The ceremony is starting any minute.
"Oh man," she continued, patting her head, "my hair! It feels like a bird's nest."
"No bird I know makes a nest like that," chuckled Sully, unfazed as always by the turn of events.
"What can I do to help?" he hastily amended, as Michaela turned to glare menacingly at him.
"There's an icepack in the freezer and bandages in the last cupboard," directed Michaela, as she picked her way towards the staircase, "bring your wrapping skills."
"Here, I snagged us these," murmured Sully quietly, gently steering Michaela away from the crowded marquee and into a darkened corner of the garden.
"Champagne?"
Michaela's eyes widened, as she accepted the sparkling crystal flute.
"I didn't think that was your style."
"Well they were fresh outta Bourbon," replied Sully dryly. "Just try it ok?"
"On the count of three?" suggested Michaela, raising an eyebrow.
"Sure," agreed Sully with a grin.
"One…
"Two….
"Three…
"Ugh!" burst out Michaela, wiping her hand across her mouth, "how can people drink this stuff?"
"It smells like that nail polish remover stuff," added Sully with a grimace, "and tastes even worse. Like lemons gone really bad.
"Thankfully, I also got us some of these," he continued, pulling two small chocolates out of his jacket pocket. "They'll drown out the taste."
"That's more like it," giggled Michaela, her eyes visibly gleaming in the darkness.
"Your wrist hurt?" mumbled Sully around a mouthful of chocolate.
"A dull ache," conceded Michaela grumpily as she continued to struggle with the foil wrapping.
"Maybe you best give it a rest," offered Sully, deftly rescuing the chocolate and sliding open the wrapping.
"Thanks…" began Michaela, "hey! That's'mine!"
"Sorry," chuckled Sully as he swallowed loudly, "I just couldn't resist."
Michaela threw a malignant scowl in his direction and leaned back against the wall, folding her arms across her chest. Her eyes drifted towards the makeshift dance floor where Marjorie and Billy were spinning slowly to a simpering romantic number; Marjorie had clearly vetoed the music list.
Sully caught her quiet sigh and turned to frown at her tortured expression.
"You're not reciting the periodic table in your head again are you?" he queried quietly, "you've got that Frieda Kahlo monobrow thing going on again."
"What's wrong?" he added, gently tugging her sleeve as Michaela merely shrugged off his comment.
"I dunno," whispered Michaela, "I guess I was thinking about when it's my turn. You know, someday, far away from now. I always thought my dad would be the one to give me away. To be there to hold my hand and make sure I didn't trip over my dress, to dance the last dance with me.
"It's stupid," she finished briskly, shaking her head as though to dismiss her thoughts before turning back to meet Sully's gaze, "I'm fine. Forget I said anything."
Sully stared thoughtfully at her for several minutes before grinning slightly and extending his hand.
"Would you do me the honour, Ms Quinn, of dancing the last dance with me?"
"Be serious, Sully," laughed Michaela, as Sully inclined his head in a mock bow, "Since when do you dance?"
"Well," replied Sully seriously as he reached out to place Michaela's good hand on his shoulder, "I've been taking lessons from a pro."
"Alice and Lily," he explained with a wide grin as he gently grasped Michaela's bandaged fingers.
"I miss them," giggled Michaela, as she allowed Sully to spin them slowly on the spot.
"For a moment there, I thought you were going to say Katy," she added slyly.
"You're never going to let me live that down, are you?" replied Sully, hanging his head in resignation.
"Nope," laughed Michaela, her eyes dancing with mirth.
"Least I had a date though," smirked Sully smugly, gazing pointedly at Michaela.
"Ouch, that's cold," retorted Michaela, biting back a smile.
"Just callin' it like I see it," chuckled Sully.
"I wish you didn't have to go back," added Michaela quietly, as the sounds of raucous cheering that signalled the end of the party issued from the marquee and arrested their steps, "I'll miss you."
"Next time you come home, we'll go to a real party," promised Sully with a grin, "and you can wear whatever shoes you want."
"Deal" agreed Michaela, as she kicked off the offending heels and with a gleeful cackle, lobbed them cleanly into the miniature fountain.