Chapter 9
He didn't let go of my hand when we went back through the side door.
The chapel was louder than before. People weren't sitting anymore. Half the guests were standing in the pews and looking toward the back, where the officiant was talking low to the bride's father, and the other half were looking at us as the door opened. The wet stone made our steps loud. My shoes squeaked. His dress shoes made a flat sound that carried.
I kept the plastic tight against my leg. The papers inside it had stuck together where the water had gotten in at the corner. I could feel his fingers around mine were cold.
The bride was still at the altar. She had turned around completely now and her hands were clasped high in front of her dress. When she saw him come back in with me, her mouth opened.
He didn't go up to her. He stopped at the front pew and faced the chapel.
"I need everyone to hear me," he said. His voice wasn't loud but it went all the way to the back because the stone carried it. "We can't continue today. The ceremony is stopped. I'm sorry."
A sound went through the room. Not gasps. More like everyone breathing out at once. Someone in the third row said, "What?"
The officiant took a step forward with his book still open. "If we could have a moment privately—"
"No," my dad said. He shook his head once. He didn't look at the bride. He looked at the guests, at his own friends near the front. "I can't get married right now. There's something I have to do. I owe you all an explanation but I can't give it fully right now. Please, I need you to give us time to leave."
The bride moved fast down the two altar steps. Her dress made a soft scrape on the wet stone.
"Wait," she said, and she laughed a little. It was the kind of laugh that didn't mean anything was funny. She looked at the guests and then back at him. "This is— sweetheart, this is a child who ran in out of the rain. She's confused and upset. She found— I don't know where she got those papers. Let's not do this here. Let's step into the dressing suite and talk like adults."
She reached for his arm. He didn't pull away but he didn't turn toward her either.
"Don't," he said quietly. "Don't call her confused."
Her hand stayed in the air for a second and then dropped.
"She burst into our wedding," the bride said. She turned a little so more people could see her face. Her eyes were shiny now. "She's eleven. Someone told her something. We don't know who her mother even is. We should call her parents. We should— honey, think about what you're doing in front of everyone."
"It's my daughter," he said.
That was all he said. He didn't raise his voice. Two women in the second row covered their mouths. The bride's father, standing near the stained-glass window, stared at me and then at her.
The bride's smile tightened. "She says she's Olivia's daughter. Olivia died nine years ago. We were at the funeral. You know that."
"I know what we were told," he said. "And I'm going to find out what's true. Right now."
He looked down at me. His grip got a little tighter, like he was asking if I was ready. I nodded. My hair was still dripping onto my sweatshirt and onto the floor.
We started walking.
The aisle felt ten times longer going back than it had coming in. Everyone was watching. I kept my eyes on the open doors at the back where the rain was coming down gray and straight outside. The white ribbons on the pews shook a little when we passed because people were moving. I held the plastic parcel with both hands now so it wouldn't slip. The crinkle was loud to me.
Nobody tried to stop us. One of the groomsmen stepped aside at the end of the pew to let us by.
Behind us the bride said his name once, loud. "Don't walk out on me!"
He didn't stop. The doors were propped open with the same wedge as before and the wind pushed rain a foot inside onto the stone. When we stepped out, the air hit my face cold and the parking lot was all wet blacktop and cars with rain hitting the roofs.
He put his hand on my shoulder and guided me toward a black SUV parked near the side entrance. He didn't run. We walked fast. The rain soaked his tuxedo jacket in seconds and made his hair dark.
Back inside, I could hear voices rising. I looked over my shoulder once while he was unlocking the passenger door. Through the open chapel doors I saw the bride still standing alone in the middle of the aisle in her white dress. Her father had come up to her and was talking close to her face with his hand on her arm, and the wedding planner was right behind them holding a clipboard against her chest. Guests were standing in clumps. The officiant had closed his book. Nobody was near her except those two.
My dad opened the door for me.
May you like
"Get in," he said. His voice was shaking a little now that we were out of there. "Put that on the dashboard where it stays dry. Watch the corner."
I climbed up onto the seat with the plastic parcel on my lap. The rain drummed on the roof. He shut my door and went around to the driver's side, and the chapel doors were still open behind us with the light from inside falling out onto the wet steps.
