Chương 8
Anna had been nine. She had not understood until now.
“Don’t cancel because of me,” she said.
Daniel faced her.
“Cancel if you don’t trust her. Marry her if you do. But don’t make me the reason.”
“What if you are part of the reason?”
“Then be specific.”
“You’re my sister.”
“That’s not specific.”
“She hurt you.”
“That is.”
“She blamed you.”
“That is too.”
“She expected me to discipline you.”
Anna looked away.
The last part hurt more than the wrist.
Daniel saw it.
“She said you had been crossing boundaries,” he added.
“What boundaries?”
“Calling on Sundays. Mentioning Mom. Changing plans.”
“I didn’t change the tribute.”
“I know.”
Anna rubbed the condensation from the water bottle with her thumb.
“Do you remember the first time Serena came to the house after Mom died?”
Daniel nodded.
“She washed all the mugs.”
“What?”
“There were mugs everywhere because people kept bringing coffee. She washed them while everyone else talked. She didn’t ask where anything went. She opened every cabinet until she found the right one.”
“I remember.”
“I liked her that day.”
“You liked her before that.”
“No. I tolerated her before that.”
A reluctant smile touched his mouth.
Anna continued, “She was kind when nobody was watching. I don’t think that disappeared. I think something else got bigger.”
“Is that your way of telling me to forgive her?”
“No.”
“What is it?”
“My way of telling you not to turn her into a monster because that would make leaving easier.”
Daniel sat again.
The television changed to a cooking show. A chef smiled silently while pouring sauce over a roast.
“I don’t know what to do,” he said.
It was the first time Anna had heard him admit uncertainty that day.
“Good.”
He looked offended.
“If you knew already, you wouldn’t be thinking.”
“That sounded like Mom too.”
“She had three useful sentences and repeated them for thirty years.”
Daniel picked up the remote and turned off the television.
“What would you do?”
“I would talk to her when she isn’t dressed like a bride.”
“There are a hundred and sixty people downstairs.”
“They can eat.”
“Her father will murder me.”
“Then the catering bill becomes irrelevant.”
He laughed once, without humor.
Anna touched the edge of the cold pack. “Postpone it.”
“For a day?”
“For however long it takes to know whether you’re marrying the person or the momentum.”
Daniel studied her.
“Momentum?”
“The hotel. The flowers. Grandma’s oxygen. All the reasons Serena gave you on the phone. None of them are reasons to get married.”
He looked at the clock.
“What do I tell the guests?”
“The truth without the details.”
“They saw the video.”
“Then fewer details.”
He leaned back.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For leaving you alone with this.”
“You were downstairs for twenty minutes.”
“I mean before today.”
Anna looked at the red mark around her wrist.
“You didn’t know.”
“I should have.”
“That’s a useless sentence.”
“Why?”
“Because it makes you guilty without making you responsible for anything specific.”
Daniel frowned.
Anna shrugged carefully. “Claire says I’ve become difficult.”
“Claire is right.”
“She says you’re worse.”
“She is also right.”
They sat in the ordinary hotel silence. Pipes shifted in the wall. An elevator chimed in the hallway. Somewhere below them, a wedding cake waited beneath sugar flowers.
Daniel picked up his bow tie but did not put it on.
“I’m postponing the ceremony.”
Anna nodded.
“Do you want to come downstairs?”
“No.”
“Do you want Claire?”
“Later.”
“Do you want me to stay?”
“No.”
He stood.
At the door, Anna said his name.
Daniel turned.
“Give Serena the chance to answer the real question.”
“Which one?”
“Not whether she loves you. Whether she can be angry without needing someone smaller to pay for it.”
He looked at her for a long moment.
Then he left.
The announcement was made at five twenty-three, thirty-eight minutes after the ceremony was supposed to begin.
Daniel stood in the ballroom without his boutonniere or bow tie. Serena stood ten feet away with her parents. She had removed the shoulder cape from her gown. Without it, the dress looked less ceremonial, almost unfinished.
The guests had been brought inside and seated at their tables rather than in rows for the ceremony. Champagne remained on the linen. The piano bench had been returned to its place, though a pale scrape marked the marble.
Daniel did not take the microphone.
He stood where people could see him and spoke in his own voice.
“There was an incident before the ceremony involving my sister and Serena. Anna is physically all right. We need time to address what happened privately, so the wedding will not take place today.”
The room absorbed the sentence unevenly.
A woman near the back whispered, “Not today?”
Serena’s grandmother pressed a hand to her chest but remained seated. Martin Rourke closed his eyes. Aunt Louise nodded once as if Daniel had confirmed a medical diagnosis.
Daniel continued.
“The reception meal has already been prepared. Anyone who wishes to stay is welcome to eat. Anyone who wants to leave, we understand. We’re sorry for the disruption and grateful for your concern.”
He stopped.
No speech about love. No request for privacy that could not be enforced. No promise that everything would be fine.
Serena did not look at him.
Her mother took her arm, but Serena pulled away gently.
Martin approached Daniel as guests began speaking in low voices.
“You’ve made your point,” he said.
“This isn’t a point.”
“You could have delayed an hour.”
“It wouldn’t change what happened.”
“You have no idea what cancellation fees—”
“I’ll cover my share.”
“Your share.”
“The costs we agreed to.”
Martin laughed under his breath. “You think this is about invoices?”
“I think you started with invoices.”
“My daughter is standing in front of everyone she knows after you announced she may not be marrying you.”
“She pulled my sister off a piano.”
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“And she apologized.”
Daniel looked at him.
