Chapter 7 - What the Chain Carries
The side room was colder than the chapel. It smelled like flowers that had been sitting too long and the lemon stuff they cleaned the floors with.
I sat on the edge of a couch with my knees pressed together because my arms were getting tired but I didn't want to say it. The baby was finally quiet against my chest. Her cheek was warm through my cardigan and her breath made a little wet spot on my dress. I kept my hand on her back and counted her breaths so I wouldn't listen to the clock.
Daddy stood by the door for a minute with the chain closed up in his fist. He didn't look at the bride lady. She was by the other wall, checking her phone and tapping her nail against the case. Tap. Tap. Tap. Every time she sighed, my stomach got tight.
Then he walked away from both of us toward the tall window.
The light in there was white and bright. It came through the glass in one big square and laid across the carpet. Dust floated in it. He stepped right into it and opened his hand.
That was the first time I saw my necklace look little in somebody else's hand. On me it felt long enough to hide. In his palm it was just a thin silver line curled up.
He pulled it straight with two fingers, real careful, like it might break. His bow tie was crooked now and there was sweat on his forehead. He squinted.
"What is this on here?" he said, mostly to himself.
He turned sideways so the light hit it better. He held his breath. I saw his shoulders go still.
There was a tiny flat heart at the end. You could barely see it unless the light caught it. On one side there was a letter cut into it. On the other side there were numbers.
He rubbed his thumb over it and then stopped rubbing, like touching it too much would wipe it off.
"Come here," he said, but he didn't mean for me to get up. He came closer to me instead and crouched down so his eyes were level with mine. His knees cracked. Up close he smelled like the candles from the chapel.
"Hey," he said quietly. His voice shook a little. "Where did you get this?"
I looked down at the baby so I wouldn't have to look at him being scared.
"From my drawer," I said. "At home."
"Which drawer?"
"The one by my bed. It was under my socks."
He swallowed. "Who put it there?"
I shrugged because my arms were full and I couldn't really shrug right. "She did."
"Who?" he asked.
"Mama," I said.
Saying it out loud in that room felt weird. The bride lady stopped tapping her phone. I didn't look at her. I kept my eyes on Daddy's face.
He stared at the little heart again. He turned it over and read the numbers on the back with his lips moving but no sound coming out. His eyes got wet. He blinked fast and looked away toward the window.
"What did she tell you?" he asked. His voice was lower now. "When she gave it to you. What did she say?"
"She said if anybody didn't believe me, show them this," I said. "She said don't lose it. She said keep it under my shirt."
My cardigan had slipped off my shoulder from holding the baby so long. I couldn't fix it. He reached out and fixed it for me without thinking, pulling it back up. His hand was shaking.
"Did she say who it was for?" he said.
I shook my head. "She just said Daddy would know."
He closed his eyes for a second. Just a second. When he opened them, he wasn't looking at the bride lady. He was looking at me and at the baby, back and forth, like he was doing math in his head and didn't like the answer.
He stood up and went back to the window light. He held the heart up close, right up by his face, and I saw his mouth make the shape of the letter. He didn't say it out loud. He pressed his lips together and put the chain back in his closed fist and held it tight.
The bride lady said, "Well?" from across the room. Her phone screen was still glowing in her hand.
He didn't turn around right away. He stared out the window at the parking lot for a long time. A car door slammed outside. Somebody laughed far away.
"It's mine," he said finally, without looking at her. "I mean — I know this chain. It's real."
That was all he said. He didn't tell her about the letter or the numbers. He put his fist in his tuxedo pocket, like he was hiding it there to think about later.
He came back and sat down on the coffee table right in front of me so his knees touched mine. He put his hands on either side of me on the couch, not touching the baby, just making a wall.
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"You're doing good holding her," he said. "Just keep holding her a little longer, okay?"
I nodded. The baby sighed in her sleep and grabbed a piece of my dress with her whole fist.
