Chapter 1: The Hallway With The Closed Doors
I remembered the cold first. The marble floor against my knees through my dress, and how bright the hallway was. My cheeks were wet and my nose was running and I couldn't get my breath right without it hitching. My dress was ivory with that pale pink sash they'd tied so tight that morning, and the skirt had ridden up a little where I'd sat down. I wasn't supposed to be on the floor.
Down the hall, music was still going behind the ballroom doors and I could hear people laughing. My dad was in his black tuxedo shaking hands and smiling for pictures. He'd been standing straight and perfect for the photographer near the doorway, his bow tie centered, his hair combed back the way he did it when he wanted to look sharp. That was the contradiction I didn't have words for then. Everything was supposed to be perfect and pretty and I was alone on that shiny floor crying where nobody could see me except the wall sconces.
That morning I was supposed to be the flower girl.
It was just after two. The ceremony had ended and the planner had told me to stay in the little side suite with the woman they'd hired until Dad came to get me for the photos. The suite had a mirror with lights and a couch and the dark wooden double doors that led back to the hallway. She'd said she'd be right back and closed those doors. I waited on the little chair like she told me to. My shoes pinched. My hands got sweaty. I tried the brass handles but they were heavy and they didn't turn the way I expected.
I remembered staring at the grain in that wood up close. The brass was cold. The hall on the other side was so quiet compared to the ballroom. I sat back down and pulled my knees up and the tears came before I could stop them. My nose turned red. I breathed in small, short breaths that kept catching. I didn't want to be loud. I just wanted him to hear me if he walked by.
"Daddy?" My voice was small and it cracked. I wasn't sure he'd be close enough to hear.
I waited. The sconces hummed a little. Somewhere behind those doors, glasses clinked and someone laughed too loud. I wiped my face with the back of my hand and it just smeared. I tried again, louder this time, my hands pressed flat on the marble.
"Daddy, please."
He must have been just turning away from the guests. Later he'd tell my mom he heard that second one clear even over the music, that it cut right through whatever the best man was saying to him. I didn't see him at first. I saw his shoes, black and polished, moving fast down the bright hall. The floral arrangement by the wall blurred as he passed it. He wasn't walking the way grown-ups walked at weddings. He was moving quickly, his shoulders forward, his hands already reaching.
I saw his face when he got close. His mouth was a little open like he'd been about to call my name but stopped. His eyes found me on the floor and his whole posture changed. The practiced groom smile he'd been wearing for the photos dropped. He bent down fast, one knee hitting the marble, his tuxedo pulling at his shoulders, his hands hovering for half a second before he touched me because he didn't want to scare me.
"Hey, hey, Ellie, I'm here," he whispered.
I couldn't answer right away because I was breathing too hard. He slipped one arm under my back and the other under my knees and lifted me up against him. My arms went around his neck without thinking. My cheek pressed into the stiff lapel of his tuxedo and I could smell his cologne and the faint starch of his shirt. He held me tight with one hand on my back, steadying me.
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Behind us, those tall dark wooden double doors were still closed. The brass handles caught the light. The ballroom doors at the far end were still shut too, and no one had come out yet to see what had happened. He stood there holding me on his shoulder in that empty hallway, his breathing quick against my ear, and I felt him glance down the hall toward where the music was coming from, toward where he was supposed to go back.
He didn't move yet.
