The Wedding of Rachel Blaine Page 6

  “Please.”

  “Robert -”

  “Please, Rachel. It's important to me.”

  “I just -”

  He puts a finger against my lips, and I instantly fall silent. I've never been able to resist him when he's at his most insistent, and I can already feel myself turning to putty right now. This seems to be becoming a theme for the day.

  “A quick swim,” I tell him, “but that's it.”

  “That's all it'll take,” he continues. “Just you and me, out there in the water on the night before our lives change forever. I promise, Rachel, nothing's ever going to be the same again. After tonight, our love...”

  His voice trails off. I wait for him to finish, but now he's staring at me with that same strange, slightly disconcerting expression that I've seen on his face a few times today. It's almost as if – while he's definitely staring at me – he's also thinking about something that's far, far away. I can only assume that his mind is on the future.

  “Well, I'm going to go inside,” I say finally, figuring that I can't stand here like this all day. “You're right about Mum, she might have caused complete chaos by now.” I glance at the police car, which is still making me feel uneasy. “And just check that out, okay?” I add. “If someone's going to get arrested at my wedding, I'd rather it happens before the actual ceremony starts.”

  ***

  “Moving it?” Mum says, sounding utterly aghast as we stand in the hotel's library. “What do you mean, moving it? Where to?”

  “Just to an old pagoda in the forest,” I reply, faking a kind of relaxed calm that's the complete antithesis of how I'm feeling inside. “It'll be fine. It's quaint.”

  “And you're letting him do this?”

  “It's important to him.” I open another box and take a look at the flowers inside. “Apparently.”

  “I've never heard anything so ridiculous in all my life,” Mum continues, sounding considerably more animated than usual. Thanks, I assume, in no small part to all the champagne she drank at the rehearsal meal. “If your father had suggested changing anything on our wedding day, I'd have boxed his ears. If he could be here right now, he'd tell you that a man's place is to stand back and not interfere.”

  “The flowers are fine,” I reply, trying to change the subject as I glance out the window and see my cousins Becky and Andrea coming this way across the lawn, passing the spot where the wedding was originally supposed to be held. “As long as they still look good in the morning, we're all set.”

  “What kind of old pagoda has he found anyway?” Mum asks. “The man's a -”

  “He's my fiance,” I say firmly, turning to her before she has a chance to launch into another tirade. “This time tomorrow, he'll be my husband. The pagoda's very old-fashioned and it has a certain kind of charm. I think it's going to look perfect by the morning.”

  Do I?

  Maybe not, but I'm sure it'll look presentable, at least. Robert will do his best, he'll throw money at the problem, and – besides – the last thing I want is for Mum to have another excuse to get all passive-aggressive and start criticizing him again. The more she pushes against the change, the more I want to make sure it goes ahead.

  “It's a funny business, if you ask me,” she says, turning and heading toward the door. She's a little unsteady on her feet after all the champagne. “You modern girls don't know how to keep a man under control. That's your problem.”

  “I'm sure it is,” I say as I carefully set the lid back on the flower box.

  A moment later I hear the door swinging shut behind me, and I can't help but breathe a sigh of relief. Between Robert and Mum, I've been dealing with a whole heap of hassle today and we haven't even reached the evening. Then again, I guess things haven't been going that badly. One day, I might even look back on the whole thing and laugh. It's not like anyone's sick, or like I've spilled something on my wedding gown. Sitting down so I can take a look at the rest of the flower boxes, I feel a wave of exhaustion wash over me, but I tell myself that I just have to power through and that there'll be time to relax on the honeymoon.

  I can do this.

  This time tomorrow I'll be a married woman and nothing else will matter.

  Suddenly I feel my phone buzzing in my pocket. Slipping it out, I see to my surprise that Becky's calling me. As I answer, I glance out the window and see that she and Andrea are still out on the lawn, and that Becky's waving at me.

  “Hey, favorite cousin,” Becky says as soon as she picks up, “have you killed anyone yet”

  “Not quite,” I reply with a faint smile. “What's up?”

  “Is it true that you're moving the ceremony into the forest?”

  “It was Robert's idea,” I tell her. “Please, don't ask me too much about it, 'cause he's dealing with the whole thing. He's found an old pagoda out there and he's got his heart set on sprucing it up.”

  “That's so random,” Becky says. “Whatever. Does that mean you've got time to come and help us down these two bottles of prosecco?”

  Still watching her out on the lawn, I see her raise one of the bottles in her spare hand.

  “Come on,” Becky continues. “It'll be like your hen night, remember? Or rather, you don't remember, do you?”

  “Sounds tempting,” I reply, allowing myself a faint smile, “but I'm going to have to let you two have the bottles to yourselves.”

  “Are you sure?” she asks. “They won't last long.”

  “I'm sure,” I tell her, “but thanks for -”

  Before I can finish, I spot movement over on the far side of the lawn. Glancing over toward the trees, I'm shocked to see the woman in the white dress slowly walking this way. I open my mouth to finish my sentence, but for a moment I can only stare at the woman as she comes closer and closer, and pretty soon she's almost right behind Becky and Andrea.

  “Who is that?” I whisper, as I slowly get to my feet.

  “Come on,” Becky says with a chuckle. “Be naughty.”

  “Who's that woman behind you?” I ask.

  “What woman?”

  “There's a woman behind you,” I continue, and I can feel my chest tightening with fear. “Becky, turn around. Look right behind you.”

  She turns and looks straight at the woman.

  “Where am I supposed to be looking?” she asks, as the woman walks straight between the two of them and continues her slow, steady march straight toward this side of the hotel.

  “Don't you see her?” I ask, feeling a chill run up my spine.

  Becky turns to look at me again.

  “What are you on about?” she asks, sounding a little bemused over the phone as the woman continues to come this way. “Is this another of your lame attempts at a joke?”

  “She's right there,” I whisper, keeping my eyes on the woman as she gets closer to the steps that lead up to the double doors. In about sixty seconds, she'll be right at the doors and then...

  And then what?

  “Come on, it's gorgeous out here,” Becky continues. “Hey, did you know there's a cop car parked round the front? What's that about? It's not a stripper, is it? Seems kind of the wrong time for that sort of thing. Or have you been naughty?”

  I don't answer.

  Instead, I watch as the woman reaches the wooden steps and starts making her way up toward the doors. I came through those doors about twenty minutes ago, and I know for a fact that they're not locked. My first thought is to go over and open them, to ask the woman what's going on, but then it occurs to me that maybe I should slide the bolt across instead.

  I'm losing my mind.

  If Becky and Andrea can't see this woman, then blatantly I'm flipping out. I thought I had everything under control, but I was wrong and so was Mum. I can't escape my past.

  “Are you okay?” Becky asks. “Rachel, what's wrong? You're kinda looking a little freaked out there.”

  Barely even hearing what she's saying, I watch as the woman reaches the top of the steps. My heart is racing and
I'm telling myself to stay calm, but at the last moment I see the woman approach the doors and I suddenly realize that I have to do something. Almost without thinking, I set my phone down and then I hurry over to the doors and grab the handles, holding them together before reaching up and sliding the bolt into place.

  My hands are trembling as I look through the glass and see the woman staring at me from the other side.

  Now that I'm so close, I can see her face properly. She's so pale, with almost a gray tinge to her skin, but there's a darkness under her eyes and around the edges of her mouth. Her eyes are pale except for ripples of red blood vessels that seem to have burst around the irises, and after a moment I see that there are hundreds of pinprick-sized holes dotted all around the lower sides of one of her eyelids. There are similar holes on the side of her chin, as if something small has been burrowing and eating its way through her flesh. And when I look down at the front of the woman's uniform, I see that it's not a uniform at all. Instead, she's wearing what looks like a white wedding gown with subtle lace patterns around the collar. After a moment I look back at her face, and I see to my horror that she's staring straight at me.

  Becky's voice is still speaking to me over the phone's tinny speakers, but I can't make out what she's saying.

  I can only stare at the woman, waiting to see what she'll do next.

  “Who are you?” I whisper finally, even though I know she won't be able to hear me through the closed doors. “What do you want?”

  In the distance, Becky and Andrea are waving at me, but I barely even notice them.

  “You're not real,” I continue, still staring at the woman, “and you're going to disappear right now. Do you understand? You're going to disappear and not come back, because you're all in my head and I am not going to lose my frikkin' mind on the day before my wedding.”

  I wait, but she's still right there and I can already tell that I've failed in my attempt to act tough.

  “Please,” I say, starting to plead with her, “just leave me alone.” There are tears in my eyes now. “It's my wedding and I need to keep my head together and you're really not helping. I know you're not real, and I guess I'm losing my mind and I'm just talking to someone who's not really there, but please just let me get on with what I need to do.”

  I wait.

  She's still staring at me.

  “I'm not crazy anymore,” I add, and I feel a sudden bump in my chest as I finally allow myself to acknowledge the truth. “I was crazy when I was a kid,” I continue, with tears starting to run down my face, “but I put that in the past. It's behind me now. Please, of all the times for this to start again, don't let it happen on the day before my wedding. I'm trying to move on with my life.”

  I wait.

  Nothing.

  “I'm better!” I hiss. “I'm cured!”

  I wait, and this time the woman slowly starts raising her left hand until she places her palm against the glass. To my horror, I see that most of the skin has been eaten away, exposing the bones and tendons. A moment later, I spot something moving deep inside her hand, and I watch as a long, fat worm wriggles deep in her meat. Slowly, its tapered tip flicks out and touches the glass, leaving a kind of smeared goo.

  “No,” I whisper, seeing that's also crying, “please, I'm not -”

  Suddenly she's gone.

  I stare out the window, and the woman has simply vanished. I didn't even notice the exact moment when she blinked out of existence, but she's gone and I feel a rush of relief as I realize that maybe – just maybe – I managed to put a lid back on all my fears. I wait, just in case she magically reappears, but then I look over at the lawn and see that Becky and Andrea are still watching me.

  I fake a smile and wave at them, before turning to head back over to the table.

  Suddenly a finger lunges at me from the center of the room, hissing loudly and spitting foul-smelling water from her mouth.

  I scream and pull back, but the figure grabs onto my shoulders and starts pulling me down to the floor while leaning closer and closer. All I see is a dead, rotten face, with most of the skin having peeled away to reveal the skull beneath. The stench is unbearable, but I can only stare in shock as more and more dirty water comes gushing from her mouth and she starts forcing me down. Unable to fight back, I drop to my knees as the woman tries to speak, although the sheer volume of water makes all the sounds unintelligible as it all splatters down against my face.

  “Please!” I sob. “Don't hurt me!”

  She opens her mouth wide, as if she's about to bite me. I squeeze my eyes tight shut and turn away, and the foul smell gets stronger and stronger until suddenly I realize that I can no longer feel the woman's hands on my shoulders.

  Opening my eyes, I find that I'm all alone on the floor.

  Startled, I turn and look around. The smell from the rotting woman is still lingering in my nostrils, but there's no sign of her and after a few seconds I begin to realize what must have happened. I had some kind of weird, waking dream. The rotting woman, the hands on my shoulders, even the foul smell... It was all in my head. The second woman seemed different somehow, as if she wasn't the one at the window. I feel a rush of relief, but then that sensation is replaced by another realization. The hallucination was so vivid, in part, because of my long-festering fear that one day my mental instability will return.

  And that means that I can't hide the truth about my past anymore, because it might not be just in the past. I have to be completely honest with the man I'm about to marry. I have to finally tell Robert everything.

  Chapter Ten

  “Have you seen Robert?” I ask Becky as I reach the reception area and see her coming the other way. “I can't find him anywhere and his phone's off.”

  “I think I saw him a while ago, heading outside,” she replies, hurrying past me. “Sorry, I need the bathroom! See you in a minute!”

  “Great,” I mutter, stepping over toward the spot where some workmen have almost finished tidying up the mess from the fallen chandelier. I look around, still seeing no sign of Robert, but then I hear a door opening behind me and I turn to see Mr. Percival emerging from his office with a police officer.

  The officer immediately looks at me, and I can see a flicker of concern in his eyes.

  “Thank you for your visit,” Mr. Percival says, tapping his arm and gesturing for him to head to the exit, “but as you can see, there's nothing to worry about. I hope your concerns have been assuaged and that we won't face any further interruptions during the weekend.”

  The officer stares at me for a moment longer, before turning to him and saying something that I don't quite hear.

  I watch as they head outside, and I can't deny that I feel a flicker of concern in my chest. I quickly tell myself, however, that I need to focus on finding Robert so that I can confess the things I've been hiding, so I make my way toward the door just as Mr. Percival comes back inside.

  “And how are you faring this afternoon, Ms. Blaine?” he asks, blocking my way as he flashes a broad smile. “Is there anything that we -”

  “I'm just looking for my fiance,” I reply, trying but failing to step past him.

  “I think I just saw him in the ballroom,” he tells me.

  “I just came from the ballroom,” I explain. “Apparently he's outside somewhere.”

  “Oh, I doubt that. Perhaps -”

  “Now if you'll excuse me,” I add, slipping past him, “I'm really in a hurry.”

  I head outside and down the stone steps at the front of the building. Mr. Percival is very nice, and very attentive, but at times he's too attentive. Frankly, I'm starting to worry that he'll be poking his nose into every aspect of the wedding tomorrow, and that I won't be able to get rid of him.

  I quickly spot the police car parked nearby, and after a moment I make eye contact with the officer as he's about to climb into the driver's seat. He freezes, as if he's a little spooked by my arrival, and although I mean to hurry straight past him I instead find
myself stopping as I get closer.

  “Hi,” I say cautiously. “I hope nothing's wrong.”

  I wait, but he seems a little nervous.

  “Right,” he says suddenly, as if he's suddenly emerged from a trance. “Sorry. I mean...”

  He hesitates again, and then he holds a hand out toward me.

  “Dante,” he continues.

  “Sorry?”

  “My name. John Dante, from the station down the road. You're the bride for the weekend, I believe?”

  I shake his hand cautiously, although I can't help wondering why he'd know anything about me.

  “I'm sorry,” he continues as he lets go of my hand, “I didn't mean to freak you out. This was just a routine call to see how things are going.”

  “It was, huh?” I reply, unable to stifle a sense of suspicion.

  “Absolutely.” He pauses, staring at me again, and I can tell that he's bothered by something. “Looks like you're going to have a great day for it tomorrow,” he adds finally, making a pretty poor attempt to seem relaxed and casual. “The weather, I mean. I saw the forecast earlier and it looks like it's brightening up after all, it's going to be really sunny and...”

  His voice trails off, and again he seems troubled.

  “Yeah, so the weather,” he continues. “Who needs weather, right? Maybe it'd be better if nothing ever changed and... Well, I mean that'd be awful, obviously. We need rain, but if we could control it... I guess we'd never all be able to agree, anyway. If we had to, like, vote for the weather each day, you'd never get enough people who'd vote for it to rain. Imagine that. Voting for the weather, huh?”

  I wait for him to get to some kind of point, but now he seems to have confused even himself.

  “I'm sorry,” he says finally, “I suppose that came out wrong.”

  I wait again, and now a kind of awkward silence spreads second-by-second until I finally realize that I just need to get on with things.

  “I'm looking for my fiance,” I explain, “so if you don't mind...”

  “That's fine,” he replies. “I'm sorry to have kept you.”