A Marriage in Middlebury. Anita Higman
slowly as he remembered Edith’s words.
The man took another sip of his tea. “So what did you do . . . if you don’t me asking?”
“Well, first, I allowed my fiancée to hire an old sweetheart of mine, Charlotte, to do our wedding reception without really thinking how it might hurt Charlotte’s feelings.”
“Do you still have feelings for her . . . this old flame of yours?”
“I thought I had things under control, but I didn’t.”
“Can’t put controls on love. All those old feelings came back to you like an old song you can’t get out of your head?”
“Yeah. The kind of song you don’t want to forget.” Sam listened to his own words. “I’m in some trouble here.” But the worst part was that someone could get hurt. If his own heart got bruised and broken, he could stand it, since he was no stranger to those feelings. But the idea of hurting either Audrey or Charlotte was unthinkable. He clawed his fingers through his hair.
“You know in a novel when the hero is flawed and he keeps ruining everything,” the man went on to say, “but somehow you still want to root for him because there’s this one thing about him you like? This one redeeming part of him that makes you cheer for him no matter what? Well, do you have that one thing?”
Sam racked his brain, searching for qualities in his character that would give anyone a reason to cheer him on. All his life he’d sought to be a good and honorable man, and yet he didn’t feel it. Not now. “No, I guess not.”
The man picked up a fallen leaf that had blown in from a nearby rose bush. “Only men of great character can admit failure.”
The man stroked the leaf against his palm. “In the tiniest way, leaves are the hero part of the plant. They take in carbon dioxide and light, and they create sugars, which allow the bush or whatever to grow. The whole process is pretty complex. Seems impossible, and yet . . . ”
“Well, I have more going for me than a leaf.” Sam chuckled. “I hope so anyway.”
The man gestured to the chapel behind them. “Well, you’ve come to the right place for hope.”
“But I didn’t come for counseling. I’m here because my fiancée wants to talk to the pastor about our upcoming wedding.”
The man seemed to study him. “And she’s not the woman you love?”
“Of course I love my fiancée.” Sam frowned. “But, I mean, do you think a man can love two women at the same time? I’m not sure I’ve heard of it. Maybe in the movies, but in real life . . .” He wished his father had been the kind of man he could have gone to for guidance. His father had not only been a man of few words, but the few he had never seemed to be all that wise. Or kind.
“I knew a man once who loved two women at the same time.”
“Who did you marry?”
The man grinned. “The friend ended up marrying the woman he loved the most.”
“Maybe my situation is more complicated.”
The man released the leaf in the breeze. “It isn’t complicated unless you and your fiancée have love confused with something else.”
Confused with something else? What could he mean? Maybe it was time to change the subject. “Seems to me, you’d get more handouts without that paper bag.”
The man pulled himself up off the steps. “I’m not a panhandler. I do little jobs for everything I eat . . . even for the cot the pastor gives me. He finds all kinds of janitorial and gardening work for me around the chapel.”
“I’ve offended you. I’m sorry.”
“No problem.” The man gave Sam a friendly smile and sat back down. “When you said your old sweetheart was Charlotte. Did you mean ‘the’ Charlotte at the tearoom?”
Back to that topic again. “Yes.”
The man held out his hands as if he were holding some invisible object. “It’s none of my business, but why did you let her go?”
“She let me go. And she would never tell me why. But something made her say no.”
“Hmm.” The man tugged on his long bushy beard. “That’s a curious thing for Charlotte to do if she loved you.”
“It was strange, since I think Charlotte did love me.” And still does. Sam reproached himself for saying some of his musings out loud.
“You both loved each other, and you didn’t fight for her?”
“I let her go.” He had thought of it so many times, countless times, wondering what he could have done differently. What he could have said to make her change her mind. But at eighteen, he had felt helpless, fighting an enemy he couldn’t see. Charlotte had been so adamant, so final in her answer, that any more verbal battles would have been cruel and selfish on his part. He looked at the man. He wasn’t going to ask for any more advice, but he knew his eyes told a different story.
The man stretched his legs out on the steps. “You’ll have to decide like my friend did. You’ll either have to put the puzzle away for good, or take it down from the shelf, and you and Charlotte can put it together. See what you have.”
Sam stiffened, but he wasn’t sure if it came from the ever increasing intrusiveness of the man’s comments, or that the concrete steps had given him a backache. Of course, there was a third option—that what the man said held too much truth for comfort.
“Yeah, I can see why any number of men in Middlebury would be enamored with Charlotte Rose Hill,” the man continued. “With that sweet personality and those enchanting hazel eyes.”
Sam bristled at the man’s remark. Seemed awfully intimate talk for someone who just loved her tea.
The man seemed to watch him as if gauging his reaction. “Charlotte also gives me little jobs so I don’t hungry,” he said. “And she brings me up to one of her front tables and sits me there like I’m somebody. Charlotte is a great heroine . . . in this little Middlebury hamlet.”
Yes, she is. A great heroine who once shattered his heart like his rock hammer on glass. “By the way, I forgot to introduce myself.”
“I’m used to it. Some people don’t think I have a name.” The man rose. “These steps will kill your back if you sit too long.”
“So, I noticed. I’m Sam Wilder.”
“Justin Yule.”
Sam got up from the steps, reached out to Justin, and gave his hand a healthy shake. “Good to meet you, Justin.”
The chapel door burst open and Pastor Wally strode out. “Good afternoon, gentlemen. Are you busy counseling my next client, Mr. Yule? If you keep doing this I’ll be out of a job.”
Justin grinned. “Just making the road smoother for you.”
Pastor Wally chuckled as he shook their hands. “Is your fiancée still coming, Sam?” He glanced at his watch.
“I think so.” Sam looked at his phone. “She hasn’t texted me saying otherwise. Maybe she’s been held up at the spa.”
Pastor Wally and Justin looked at Sam but didn’t say anything.
A new silver BMW pulled up in the chapel’s circle drive—Audrey’s car. “That’s my fiancée.”
“Nice car,” Wally said.
Sam stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Early wedding present.”
“Nice wedding present,” Justin said.
Audrey got out of the car and clippity-clopped toward them in her spiky shoes. She stood in front of the three of them, out of breath said, “Sorry I’m late. The girl at the salon