A Website Featuring the Writings of Donna Schlachter 09/20/08
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A Website Featuring the Writings of Donna Schlachter 09/20/08 |
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Love is patient and kind. Love is not
jealous, it does not brag, and it is not proud. |
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Her long hair whipped into her eyes, snatched up by the small dust devils in
the parking lot. Her eyes searched frantically for the car. Spying it, she
sprinted as fast as she could, the toddler bouncing on her hip. As she neared
the vehicle, she heard the engine slowly crank to life, as if protesting
starting at all. One last glance over her shoulder, she yanked the door handle, pulling the door open. She passed the child into the waiting arms of the driver, then dropped into the seat, pinning the child between them. Breathless, she waved her hands toward the windshield. "Get moving. I don't know if they followed me or not." The car moved slowly from its spot, the plan already in motion. Drive carefully. Don't draw attention. Act normal. Chapter 1 Rosalie Thatcher sighed and dropped her pen on the table yet again. How do you plan a wedding when the groom has no family? Not only did Tony's lack of family mean that the church would look lopsided with all of the bride's family on one side and all of the groom's side – well, empty – but somehow it made her feel like other people might think that his family didn't want to come to the wedding. And Rosalie knew that was the furthest thing from the truth. The truth. Just what was the truth? The truth was that she loved Tony more than any other human being on earth, and she was going to marry him in six weeks -- family or no family. Other than that, his family background wasn't important to her. After all, it wasn't like he was a Rockefeller or something. Rosalie looked back at her list, carefully enumerated on a page with two columns: My Guests, Tony's Guests. Her side was filled with the fifty names to whom she had already sent invitations. And on the next page was her Alternate List, those people she would like to have at her wedding, but who would only get an invite if someone from the first list said they weren't coming. On Tony's side of the page, his best friend from college was there, as were his last foster parents. Three names, four if you included his best friend's girlfriend. Hard to believe that a person could go through life without making some good friends to invite to a wedding. He didn't even have enough friends for pallbearers. Rosalie shuddered at that thought. Where had that come from? There was no way he was going to need pallbearers for many years to come. Picking up her pencil once again, Rosalie looked at her list of Alternate Guests. Maybe a few of them were Tony's friends, too. As she considered the names, mostly girls she had gone to college with, or had met at work, she had the sensation that she was somehow trying to fill in Tony's missing pieces. Missing pieces. Like a piece of a puzzle, dropped in the wrong box. Rosalie snapped the cover closed on her notebook. Planning a wedding was frustrating, hard work, even for a professional planner like herself. She wanted her wedding to be the event of the year. After all, what better advertising for her business than to pull off the grandest event Lesterville had ever seen? Glancing at the clock on the stove, she considered her next move. She should eat breakfast then visit the florist again to make sure they understood the very distinct color of the roses she wanted in the arrangements. Finally, another fitting for her gown. That was one thing about going on a diet before a wedding -- you never know how many adjustments are going to be needed. Taking down a bowl and fishing a clean spoon from the dishwasher, she resolved to put the clean dishes away as soon as she had eaten. She chose a box of cereal from the cupboard and grabbed the milk carton from the fridge. Measuring her cup of cereal into the bowl, she realized she was hungrier than she'd thought. It sure doesn't look like much. Still, seeing Tony's eyes light up as she moved down the aisle in her designer gown that was perfect for a small waist made her resist pouring in even a little more. She could eat an earlier lunch if needed. Rosalie sloshed milk into her bowl, and a little into Marigold's bowl. She smiled. When people asked her if she lived alone, she always answered, "No, I am owned by a big yellow tabby cat." While Rosalie was still the queen of her domain, Marigold could be bossy. Right now the cat was asleep in the middle of Rosalie's bed, exactly where she knew she wasn't supposed to be. Rosalie sat on the straight backed wooden chair. Although she liked her little rental house, she longed for the permanence of a real home. She and Tony had already put a contract on a house just outside town for them to move into after their honeymoon. It would be their own little nest away from the world, behind high walls, with lots of trees for boys to climb on and flowers for girls to pick. Since she was an only child and Tony was, well, an orphan, they had both decided they wanted a large family. Lots of kids. And so they had bought their first house to accommodate their brood. Children's voices roused her from her daydream, and she turned to look out the window at some kids walking down the sidewalk. Probably on their way to school, just like Tony and I used to do. One little girl stubbed her toe in a crack in the cement and went down on her knees, her books scattering. A boy just slightly older helped her up, brushing off her hands and knees, while another girl darted here and there, picking up her scattered papers. Just what Tony would do. She smiled. It was nice marrying someone who she shared so many memories with already. The children moved out of her line of sight, and Rosalie's eyes strayed back to her kitchen, her to-do list, and brushed past the milk carton on the table in front of her. Dim recognition caught her attention, and slowly she brought her eyes back to the carton. In big black letters near the top of the carton were the words "Have you seen me?" And underneath was a picture of a boy of around two years of age. Next to it was another picture, purportedly an age progression of the first. Gasping, Rosalie pushed away from the table as though burned by it. Her heart raced as she tried to take in the implication of the picture. She backed away from the table, finally stopping when she came up against the counter top. This can't be happening. She covered her face with her hands, trying to breathe deeply. The last thing she needed was to hyperventilate and faint. Somewhere in the deep recesses of her brain, she tried to make sense of what she had seen. Slowly she lowered her hands. She moved a few feet to the left to get a different view of the carton. Then she moved to the right. It didn't help. It was the same picture. The smiling face of her fiancee, Tony Medina, stared back at her. |
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This site was last updated 09/20/08