Raising Hope (38 page)

When I got to the end of the aisle, Jack winked at me. I smiled at him and took my place on the other side of the justice of the peace. Then Ruth came down, holding Sara Lynn’s arm. Well, that was my family for you. Couldn’t have a normal wedding, with Ruth holding the arm of a guy standing in for her father. No. Ruth had to walk down with Sara Lynn. I scanned the faces of the crowd, but nobody seemed to think it looked weird. Everyone’s face just looked happy and soft. There was Chet, handsome in his suit with his hair parted precisely and neatly combed. There was Mrs. Costa, her head tilted to one side as she patted Mamie’s arm. And there was everyone from the diner, all those people Ruth served day after day, beaming like they’d never seen a wedding take place before. I loved them all, every single person looking up at Ruth and Jack. If my arms had been big enough, I would have held them out right then to hug everyone at the wedding.

And now the music is starting, and I’m in the reception tent sitting next to Mamie and Mrs. Costa, eating my third chocolate party favor.

“You’ll make yourself sick,” Mamie scolds, but I just shrug because I’ve already popped the candy into my mouth.

Ruth is dancing with Jack, and I have to say they look really good together. He holds her firmly, like he’s not going to let her go. She’s laughing up at him, and I see how happy she is. A pang of jealousy stabs my heart, because I want to be the only one who makes her that happy. But it’s time to share her, whether I like it or not.

“Dance?” It’s Sam, standing behind me and offering me his arm. My heart does a little skip, but then it stops and goes back to normal. It’s the first time I’ve seen him since all hell broke loose.

“Sure,” I say, and I get up from where I’m sitting and let him lead me to the square wooden floor.

We start to dance a halfhearted waltz, and he says, “Hope . . . ,” like he wants to tell me something.

“Hmm?” I say.

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry about what?” I ask, my heart pounding again.

“Sorry about you and me. I think the world of you. You’re a wonderful girl who will make some man very happy someday.”

“But not you,” I say.

“Not in that way, no,” he says gently. “But it would make me very happy if we could still be friends. I don’t say that lightly, either. I want to keep getting to know you, because I like you. I think you’re an interesting person.”

“Well, I guess you’ll have to keep getting to know me if you’re going to be dating Sara Lynn.” I sound like Ruth when I say this, and it makes me proud.

He stops dancing for a minute and looks down at me. “This doesn’t have anything to do with Sara Lynn,” he says. “I’d think you were a person worth knowing even if there was nothing between Sara Lynn and me. I’d still want to keep in contact with you.”

“You would?” I say.

He nods and starts circling around with me again. “Don’t sell yourself short, Hope. I like you for you, not because you’re related to Sara Lynn.”

“Well, I’m not really related—” I stop myself. “Thank you,” I say, lifting my chin and looking in his eyes. “Thank you.”

He hugs me for a minute and says, “I’m glad to know you, Hope.”

I blink back tears that are happy and sad at the same time, and I nod into his shirt.

“You look beautiful, you know,” says Sara Lynn, smoothing my hair as we leave the dance floor after a funny fast polka we did together.

“No, I didn’t know,” I reply shyly, twirling the skirt of my dress. It’s my purple dress, the one I got for my birthday.

“You were right,” Sara Lynn tells me. “That ruffled pink dress didn’t suit you. Too little-girlish. You really look like a beautiful young lady in this dress.”

I blush with happiness and say softly, “Thanks for telling me I’m pretty.”

She looks surprised. “You didn’t know?”

I shake my head, and she takes me by the shoulders. “You’re the most beautiful girl I know,” she says, her eyes looking at me proudly. “You’re absolutely lovely.”

Ruth and I are dancing together to an Elvis song, and she’s crooning along.

“I’m glad Jack makes you happy, Ruth,” I say, interrupting her singing.

Her eyes get big, like she’s surprised. “Thanks, Hope.” She sounds sort of shy, and I can tell my words mean a lot to her.

“Promise I’ll still be your baby even when your real baby comes?” I ask.

“You are my real baby,” she says without missing a beat. “And I swear I’ll ground you for a month if you say otherwise. Got it?” She glares at me.

I smile. “Got it.”

She grabs my hands and whirls me around so my head spins.

Jack dances a slow dance with me, and I’m sort of tongue-tied with him. I’ve known him forever, but now that he’s Ruth’s husband, I can’t think of a thing in the world to say to him.

“When we get back from our honeymoon, I want you to come over and decorate your room, okay?”

I shrug. “Okay.”

“You can do it however you want it. You and Ruth figure it out. But it’s going to be your home, too. I want you to know that.” He pauses, then says, “You know, I’m a lucky man to be married to your aunt.”

“Yes, you are,” I tell him.

“I’m also lucky because I’m getting you as part of the deal. You’re the icing on the cake, Hope,” he says. “I know you have a lot of people who care about you already, but I hope you’ll let me be part of that group.”

I let him lead me around the dance floor—he’s of that generation, Ruth jokes; he can’t not lead—and I look up at him and smile. “Thanks, Jack,” I say, and I squeeze my arms awkwardly around his neck to let him know I mean it.

I dance all afternoon with everyone. I’m dancing to celebrate Ruth’s marriage, but also to celebrate something about myself. A lot of things have happened to me recently. I got my period, I fell in love, and I’m on my way to finding my father. Sara Lynn says she expects the detective to call any day now.

You know, he might not want me—no matter what Sara Lynn thinks, that’s the truth. And that’ll hurt real bad. But then again, he just might hold out his arms and hug me in close. He just might whisper, “Hope, I’ve been waiting for you for twelve whole years.” See, I don’t know what’s going to happen. But I can’t let not knowing stop me from finding out.

Ruth goes upstairs to change into what Sara Lynn calls “her going-away outfit” and what Ruth herself calls “my Sara Lynn priss-ass dress.” It’s taking her forever, and we’re all waiting for her in the front yard. Jack is joking with his grown-up kids, and he sees me watching him. “C’mere,” he says, motioning me over. He gives me a big hug and says, “It’s a great day, isn’t it, kid?”

I hear someone yell, “Here she comes!” and I twist out of Jack’s arms to look. It’s Ruth, and she looks so pretty in her new red dress. “It’s not everyone who can carry off red, Ruth,” Sara Lynn told Ruth when we all went dress shopping together. “With your coloring, this’ll be lovely.”

Jack walks forward to meet her and says in a nice loud voice, “Here comes my wife! Isn’t she a looker?”

We all step back a little to give them room as they walk hand in hand down the stone path and over to Jack’s car. “What’re you all staring at?” Ruth laughs, looking around at us.

“You’ve still got your bouquet, Ruth,” calls Mrs. Costa. “Throw it.”

“Oh, God,” Ruth says, looking down at the small bouquet of white roses in her hand. “Sara Lynn, will you take these foolish things? I can’t take them with me to the Cape.”

“Throw it,” Mrs. Costa urges. “Throw the bouquet.”

“I’m not throwing it,” says Ruth. “I’d probably bonk someone on the head.” Everyone laughs because it’s true. “Besides, I want Sara Lynn to have it, her being such a flower freak.”

Sara Lynn walks up to Ruth and takes her bouquet from her. She hugs Ruth and whispers something, and they both laugh in a way that sounds happy and sad at the same time. Then Mamie totters up to them and says, her voice clear as a bell, “I want you to have this,” and she’s holding out something in her hand. Oh, my gosh, Mamie’s giving her Julia Rae’s pendant. It’s the teardrop ruby necklace that belonged to Mamie’s sister, the one who was so pretty that all the boys in town were just crazy about her.

“Oh no,” Ruth gasps. “I couldn’t take something like that.”

“Yes,” Mamie insists, grabbing Ruth’s hand with her own trembly one and placing the necklace into it.

Ruth puts her hand up to her mouth and looks at the jewel in her other hand. “But this is Julia Rae’s pendant.” That’s the thing about an old person repeating her stories all the time—everyone knows which piece of jewelry comes from which dead person.

“Yes, it is. And you remind me so of her. You have her spirit, her big heart.”

“Mamie, it’s too much,” Ruth argues, trying to give the necklace back.

“Nonsense,” says Mamie, scowling. “It’s my way of telling you—” Her voice breaks. “I love you.”

Ruth gets all pale and wide-eyed, like she’s scared she made Mamie cry, but before she can say anything, Mamie looks at Sara Lynn. “And let’s get something else straight. I love you, too. My lovely, sweet, strong daughter. I always have, and I always will.” She touches Sara Lynn’s cheek and says, “I want you never to doubt that. Do you understand me?”

Sara Lynn’s forehead puckers as she nods slowly, and the three of them awkwardly pull together in a hug. “The end of an era,” jokes Ruth.

“The beginning of a new one,” Mamie adds firmly.

“Where’s Hope?” they all seem to ask at once, turning their heads from one another to look for me. The circle of women opens, and I hike up the skirt of my dress and run toward them, my feet beating a rhythm on the asphalt of the driveway.

“Here I am,” I call. “I’m right here.”

Acknowledgments

I owe tremendous thanks to the following people for helping make one of my oldest and dearest dreams come true: Jamie Raab, thank you for your warmth, intelligence, and guidance. Lisa Bankoff, thanks for taking a chance on me and watching my back with such finesse and good humor. Risa Miller, your kindness and generosity to a fellow writer are much appreciated. Thanks to Kate Swanson, efficient assistant with a smile, and to Mark Fischer and Jon Burr for sharing their legal and business expertise. Thanks to all my family and friends for love and laughter along the way. I especially appreciate the feedback I received from early readers Liz Flaherty and Judy Willard, and the good conversation and girl power I get monthly from my hilarious and ultra-supportive book club. Last, but never least, I send my gratitude and love to the memory of Arthur Edelstein: writer, teacher, mentor, and friend to so many.