A Wedding for Christmas Page 8

  “She told you about her sister, didn’t she?”

  “Yes. How much did you know?”

  “When I rescued her, she was hysterical, saying we had to rescue her sister. I told her we got some of the other women out already, so she calmed down. But once we processed everyone, she couldn’t find her sister and she broke down. They had to restrain her and take her to the medical facility. That was the last time I saw her before meeting her here on the streets.”

  “She has survivor’s guilt. I wish we could channel it into something useful. Maybe her sister’s still alive.”

  “That’s a long shot, but worth a try.” He puts his arms around me. “Thanks for trying to be friends with her.”

  “I’m sorry I tried to dissuade you from helping her earlier, but now, we don’t know if we’ll find her again.”

  My heart deflates as I wonder if I should have been softer with her, more sympathetic. But then, she doesn’t need pity, and I suspect she hates it when people feel sorry for her.

  I know that’s how I felt after coming out of jail. Even though, I was convicted of a white-collar crime, I was sent to Rikers Island, a tough inner city jail. I didn’t want anyone to mention it. I didn’t tell anyone about the abuse I endured until I met Tyler, so I’m sure Zulu doesn’t want her life dissected by people she barely knows.

  “Not something we can worry about right now.” He holds me close. “We can pray for her and hope she finds a reason to live.”

  “Yes, and if she ever turns up again, I want to not only help, but to be her friend.” I close my eyes and let my head rest on Tyler’s chest. “It kind of puts all the wedding worries in perspective.”

  He turns off the bedside lamp. “Yes, but remember, our wedding will be fine no matter what happens.”

  I’m not so sure about his confidence. There are a dozen things that could happen to ruin it, but exhaustion overtakes me and I decide to worry about it tomorrow, when I can actually do something about it.

  13

  ~ Kelly ~

  “Mama, can I practice my flower girl walk?” Bree asks when I pick her up from her Sunday school class after church. With so many balls in the air, I needed the sermon the pastor preached. Fretting and worrying show lack of faith and distrust in God.

  Even worse, Bree is taking after me—worrying about every little detail. She’s a perfectionist and is so conscientious in rehearsing her role that sometimes it drives me nuts.

  “I’m sure you’ll do great.” I pick up the artwork she colored and say goodbye to her Sunday school teacher.

  “Lilly says she can’t be flower girl with me.” Bree’s brow wrinkles with a frown. “I’ll be all alone if I don’t have a ring bearer to walk with me.”

  “You don’t need anyone to walk down the aisle with you.” She also doesn’t need any boy to like her, that’s for sure. “You are the one Papa and I want to be in our wedding, so it doesn’t matter if the others don’t show up.”

  I, also, might have to walk down the aisle alone, since my father hasn’t guaranteed he’s coming. Frankly, I don’t need him, and I only invited him because I don’t want him to regret it someday when he realizes how much he missed.

  “But I won’t have anyone to kiss.” Bree flails her hands and gives me the ‘Mama, it’s obvious you don’t know what you’re talking about’ look. “Weddings are real special and everyone gets kissed.”

  “Papa and I will kiss you. You are special.” I zip up her jacket and take her hand.

  “I want someone of my own to kiss.” Bree’s lower lip juts out in a pout.

  Oops. It looks like my deflection wasn’t good enough. She’s still looking for external validation.

  “I thought you said boys are yucky and full of cooties.”

  “They are, except when you’re marrying them. I see you kissing Papa all the time.”

  Yikes, she’s too observant, but this wedding is special to her, too, since it’s the day Tyler is going to show everyone he’s adopting her.

  “Someday, when you’re all grown up, you’ll find someone who isn’t yucky. Want to come to the florist with me later and pick up some flower petals to practice with?”

  “Yay! I love flowers. I’m going to be the best flower girl ever. Does it count as my good deed?”

  Bree’s Sunday school class has a good deed list where children earn stickers for helping others. So far, she’s been too wrapped up in the wedding to go out collecting money for charity. It’s my fault, too. I should chill out a bit. It isn’t as if the wedding is do or die.

  “Maybe not, because it has to be something you do for strangers.” I flip through her sticker book to appear as if I have my act together. “Looks like you’re doing great with your Bible verses.”

  “But I still haven’t done my good deed.” Bree shrugs exaggeratedly, underscoring my guilt at being too obsessed with the wedding to look after her activities. “Lilly got points for collecting cans for the homeless. I don’t want to copy her. I want to be a hero and save someone’s life—just like Papa.”

  Oh, so she wants to go after the big stuff. Sheesh. She must have overheard some of the talk we had yesterday, even though we tried not to say much after Zulu left.

  Her expression turns serious, and she takes my hand as we walk toward the nursery to pick up Arman. “I hope that lady doesn’t kill herself, then Papa would have saved her life for nothing.”

  “It wasn’t for nothing. Zulu made a mistake. I’m sure she’ll take good care of herself from now on.”

  “If she kills herself, will she go to Heaven?” Bree is still stuck on suicide. It’s a new concept for her, and frankly I wish she was older before she was exposed to it.

  “God loves us even when we make mistakes. Do you think there’s anything you can do to stop God from loving you?”

  “No, nothing!” Bree jumps up and down as we head to the nursery. She claps her hands to the beat of a children’s rhyme on how big God’s love is and how unstoppable it is.

  I receive Arman from the nursery director and loop his diaper bag over my shoulder. As we head for the parking lot, Bree tugs my hand. “Can we practice the peanut butter walk? Please, please?”

  She’s referring to saying “peanut butter” in her head as she walks down the aisle so she doesn’t go too fast or too slow. Such a ball of energy. It’s no wonder I’m exhausted by the end of the day.

  Since Tyler is in the back talking to the men, I agree. “Okay. I’m sure the auditorium’s emptying out.”

  We greet several church friends as we walk back into the auditorium. My mother is in the front near the altar talking to her friends, and children play tag and run around the pews.

  “Peanut butter one, peanut butter two, peanut butter three,” Bree chants as she swings her hands back and forth, pretending to throw petals between the pews. “Peanut butter, mashed potatoes, sour cream.”

  Several familiar faces turn to her and give her encouraging remarks. Bree takes it all in, her smile growing wider as she prances down the aisle.

  From the corner of my eye, I notice a man I’ve never seen before. He’s tall, well-dressed, more than the usual church goers, and he’s staring at Bree.

  Chills chatter down my spine when he catches me staring at him. I walk up to my mother to hand Arman to her.

  “Come here, you little cutie, you,” Mother says as her arms stretch out for him.

  “Uhh, Mom,” I whisper to her and glance toward that man. “Bree’s practicing her flower girl walk, and I don’t know if it’s my imagination or not, but it looks like that man’s stalking her.”

  My mother tickles her little grandson who drools all over her, and coos, “Arnie, do you think that man’s staring at your sister? Or is your mommy being paranoid again?”

  I grit my teeth and roll my eyes. My mother is a magnet for strangers, especially the handsome younger man type, and I’m betting she’s going to use this opportunity to introduce herself. She’s been worse ever since she broke up with her w
idower boyfriend who decided to move to a more upscale church and hobnob with the movers and shakers.

  “Seriously, Mom. I’ve never seen him before. He’s a stranger.”

  “Who wouldn’t be looking at a pretty little girl prancing down the aisle?” My mother answers, oblivious to the danger swirling around her. “All my friends are watching Bree. Nothing to worry about.”

  “I don’t like it.” I shoot daggers at the hapless man, who does resemble an action figure hero. His jaw is chiseled and square, and if I’m not mistaken, his eyes are as clear blue as the sky. It doesn’t help that he’s fit and trim and quite tall. “Let me go block his view.”

  I sidle down the aisle and park myself in front of the pew he’s sitting at, blocking him from access to my daughter, in case he’s a child kidnapper ready to make a run for it. I can’t get over the sneaking sensation he’s the man who took pictures of Bree.

  “Excuse me, Madam,” a deep, sonorous voice mutters from behind me. “Are you her mother?”

  I play like I don’t hear him. After all, why should I give more information to a stalker creep? I take my phone from my purse and prepare to text Tyler and ask him to call the police. It’s a sad thing our Baptist church is so friendly, they welcome everyone who attends and call them brethren.

  Brothers and sisters in Christ. Right. How do we know they’re not perverts in the midst? Our pastor really should do a much better job at vetting the attendees.

  Tyler, I text. Come to the sanctuary right now. The stalker who was taking pictures of Bree is sitting in the pew behind me. Ask the pastor to go speak to him and see who he is. He’s staring at Bree. Hurry.

  “One potato, two potato, three potato, four.” Bree marches back down the aisle in front of me. She flings pretend flower petals at me. “Mommy, don’t I look so pretty?”

  “You do, sweetheart. I think you’re done with the practicing now.” I take her hand and attempt to drag her away from the church building.

  “No, I need to get the rhythm down.” She wrestles from my hand. “It would be better if I had the ring bearer with me, and we could practice together.”

  “Uh, well, the ring bearer’s job is much easier than yours. He doesn’t need to practice as hard.”

  “Matt came to Sunday school and told me he wants to be the ring bearer, but his mother won’t let him.” Bree stops flinging pretend flower petals and points toward a group of visitors standing at the back talking to the pastor.

  Sure enough, Sheryl Sanders is there along with Matt. It takes me a moment to realize Bree is still talking to me.

  “He says he really likes me,” Bree continues. “And he’s sorry he has to listen to his mother and play with his grandfather.”

  Ugh. This is way too early for my daughter to start believing excuses guys make for their mistakes. I thought she hated him only a day ago, and now, somehow, he’s managed to charm her again.

  “It doesn’t matter whether he’s sorry or not.” I put on a stern voice. “The fact remains, you don’t need him to be the ring bearer. You’re a strong woman, and you don’t need a man to stand at your side.”

  “Are you a strong woman?” Bree turns those sparkling blue eyes at me.

  “Of course, I am.” I stiffen my spine and take her hand with a firm grip. “I work my own job and pay my own bills. Men can come and go, as far as I care, and I don’t need a man to complete my life.”

  “But, Mama, you’re marrying Papa.” She points out the obvious, and I hear an annoying chuckle behind.

  “I’m marrying Papa because I love him, not because I need him.” I lower my voice.

  “Then I want Matt to be my ring bearer because I love him, not because I need him,” Bree chimes in monkey-see-money-do style.

  Her comments make the stranger laugh—great, big guffaws, before he’s cut off by Tyler saying, “Hey, Ford. It’s good to see you here. Let me introduce you to Kelly.”

  My head spins so fast it would have helicoptered to the ceiling if it hadn’t been attached to me. This is his cousin?

  “Why, hello there,” the man in question says. “I’m Ford Manning, Tyler’s cousin.”

  “Oh, well, uh, well, uh, I’m Kelly Kennedy, Tyler’s fiancée,” I manage to splutter out. “How do you do?”

  “Very pleased to meet you,” Ford says. “I overheard what your daughter said about having my son be the ring bearer, and I must apologize for Sheryl. She had no idea Tyler and I were related. I met Sheryl after Tyler joined the Army.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t impose on your Christmas activities,” I say, not wanting to open that can of worms again. Sheryl Sanders is not my favorite person, given all the run-ins and fights Bree and Matt have had at school. Last year, I was called in almost every other week for one squabble or another.

  “Actually, she changed her mind,” Ford says. “We’d love it if you can still have Matt be the ring bearer.”

  “I’m for it,” Tyler says, looking at me expectantly.

  What can I do? I nod and agree, “Sure, we’d love to have him. Thanks.”

  “Great, then it’s a deal.” Ford clamps Tyler on the shoulder. “It’s nice to meet you, Kelly. I ought to go round up my boy.”

  I glance at where I last saw Matt and Sheryl, but they’ve disappeared. So has Bree.

  “Yes, sure, nice to meet you, too.” I turn away from Ford to look for Bree.

  She’s always doing this to me. Disappearing. My mother’s still holding onto Arman, and she wasn’t watching Bree. Tyler walked off with Ford, not realizing Bree is missing again.

  “Bree?” I buzz myself around the church, trying not to panic. “Has anyone seen Bree?”

  Members of the congregation make sympathetic noises, and some join forces with me to locate my daughter.

  “She was in between the pews practicing her flower girl walk only a few minutes ago,” I explain lamely to all of the people gathered around.

  “She couldn’t have gone far.”

  “Maybe she went to play with the kids outside.”

  “I thought I saw her go back to the Sunday school class.”

  After a few minutes of fruitless searching, I fumble with my cell phone. “I have to call the police. This is San Francisco. Anyone could have walked off with her. She knows better than to wander off by herself. What if she went to the bathroom and someone ambushed her?”

  I walk past the counter in the foyer, the one with the pamphlets, and hear sounds of giggling.

  “Are you going to kiss me now?” Bree asks. “For practice?”

  Incensed, I round the counter. Who else should be hiding with Bree but that awful Matt Sanders? I tower over them, glaring as sternly as I can.

  The little boy covers his mouth, and Bree glares back at me. “Mama, what are you doing here?”

  I drag her by the arm to her feet. “This is not going to be the last time I interrupt you and your little lovefest. Get used to it, missy.”

  She sticks a lollipop in her mouth and sucks on it with her lower lip protruding.

  Before I can ask her who gave her the lollipop, Matt snatches it from her mouth and says, “That was supposed to be for the kiss.”

  Why the gall of this boy, who’s showing all the signs of being a black-hearted cad already. I yank my daughter from the foyer as she bursts into tears.

  14

  ~ Tyler ~

  “Hey, bud. I’m sorry to do this to you,” Sawyer said to Tyler before the veterans prayer meeting. “But I have to go to Afghanistan as soon as possible.”

  “Does it have anything to do with Zulu’s sister?” Tyler closed his Bible and gave his full attention to his best friend.

  Truth to tell, he’d been expecting something like this. Sawyer had always looked at Zulu like he worshipped her, but Zulu always treated him like a friend. If Tyler wasn’t getting married in a few days, he might have been tempted to help find Zulu’s sister also.

  “Yes, I have a few leads. I touched base with the commander who ran the rescue, and he
was able to get into a database where they took down the names and hometowns of the women rescued with Zulu. I’m thinking one or more of them might know where her sister is.” Sawyer’s knee jittered with unsuppressed excitement. “If I find Hawa, I’m sure it’ll give Zulu the will to live.”

  “It’s what she needs, more than talking and sitting around.” Tyler looked around the circle at the rest of the group. “Kelly’s convinced Zulu needs a purpose to live.”

  “Exactly.” A vein throbbed on Sawyer’s temple. “Except I won’t be here for your wedding. I feel really bad, but I’m catching a military transport this evening.”

  “I’m totally okay with this.” Tyler clasped his buddy’s shoulder. “You gotta do what you gotta do. Meanwhile, we’ll get word to Zulu you’re looking for her sister. Maybe it’ll keep her from hurting herself.”

  “That’s what I’m thinking. She’ll want to stay alive to see if I can find her.” Sawyer thumped his Bible. “Hope is the only thing that can heal her.”

  “Right. I know how much you care about her.”

  “Ella’s going to be disappointed.” Sawyer’s shoulders sagged. “I hope she doesn’t take this personally or read too much into it.”

  “Women always read too much into everything,” Tyler said. “I’ll put in a good word for you.”

  “Nah, you don’t have to. I feel like we’re in a holding pattern anyway, and now that Jaden’s back in town, I don’t want to get into a pissing contest with him.”

  Tyler was about to say that it meant Sawyer wasn’t entirely sold on Ella being the one for him, when the pastor strode into the assembly.

  After an opening prayer, the pastor asked for prayer requests. Exclamations of shock and concern echoed around the room when he and Sawyer asked for prayers for Zulu and her sister, Hawa, as well as safety for Sawyer’s trip to Afghanistan.