Sofia's Wedding

“You were trying to protect me! Ha! You’ve ruined everything!”

*

“But they seemed soft.”

“Well, they’re burnt now,” Victoria’s mother answered, clanking cookie sheet down on the cooling rack.

Through the kitchen window, they could see Sofia by the river skipping rocks in her bare feet.

“I can’t believe she’s getting married in a week,” Victoria said.

“I know. The first of my girls,” her mother sighed shakily.

“Do you really think he’s right for her?”

“Oh, Vicky, not this again.”

“What, I’m just asking.”  Fiddling with the ginger cookies, Victoria dislodged one and stuck it in her mouth. It was sweet but as dry as dust. 

Why would Sofia want to marry Deric Trites? She was young and beautiful. Full of life. Beside her, Deric was a dodgy old man. 

It was ridiculous. And rushed. Not to mention, overly dramatic. 

Instead of simply telling her, Sofia sauntered into the garage. It was around eleven on a Tuesday morning and Victoria, returning from painting by the lake, leaned her canvas against a wall to dry. 

Barely looking at the rising ducks, Sofia bounced on her heels and declared, “Victoria! Brunch this Saturday!”

“Sofia, you know I’m at the market every Saturday,” Victoria grumbled. Why didn’t anyone take her art seriously?

“Oh, come on. This is important! Saturday is the only day Megan can make it.”

What could she say? Victoria was lucky to sell one painting on a busy Saturday. Megan studied pre-med at Queen University. 

“Fine! What time should I be at Toast & Jam?”

“No, Coco Frutti! This is definitely Coco Frutti news! Ten o’clock.”

At Coco Frutti, Sofia waited at a balloon decorated table with a bottle of champagne. She’d never looked happier, and jumped and rushed to give a great hug before dancing about and waving her hand until Victoria said, “You’re wearing a diamond ring.”

“Yah!!” Sofia answered beaming.

Victoria’s head spun. Sofia was only two years older than her. Who was she even dating? Even if, growing up her favorite program was, ‘Say Yes to the Dress,’ Victoria couldn’t imagine Sofia having a real grown up wedding. But, she did look happy.  

Victoria asked, “When did this happen? How did he propose?”

“Oh, it was so romantic. Deric took me to Chez Piggy. We ordered oysters, and the ring came on an oyster shell.”

Deric! Victoria stared.

“Deric, the guy who sells wheelchairs?  I thought you swore you’d never see him again after he stood you up for Marla’s wedding.”

“That wasn’t his fault. An emergency came up. Someone needed a wheelchair right away.”

“And he wasn’t able to call you?”

“Oh, never mind. You’re always so negative.” Sofia scowled, fiddling with her ring.

Before Victoria could argue further, their older sister, Megan, walked in looking as if she’d been up all night memorizing anatomy and biochemistry.  Her shoulders were hunched and blue eyes shadowed. 

Sofia did her hand waving dance, but Megan only frowned, until Victoria said, “the ring.”

Watching the dawning, Victoria hoped to see signs of horror. Instead, Megan stomped her foot and whined, “I can’t believe you’re getting married before me.” Hugging, they giggled like toddlers.

Things got worse. 

Horrific. Weeks of roses and champagne. It was all everyone talked about. At the Saturday market, people waved at Victoria, saying, ‘Oh, I heard about your sister’s wedding,’ ‘She’ll be a beautiful bride.’ Or worse. More than one had looked at her beached mermaid with admiration, only to turn to Victoria and say, “Sofia must be expecting a wedding portrait.”

The engagement party was over the top. Who serves lamb with mint jelly at a formal sit-down engagement dinner? And invites all their business associates?

Even their father asked Sofia, “Do you even like lamb with mint jelly?”

But Sofia laughed. “Oh, Dad. Deric’s paying for it. His clients need to know he’s doing well.”

“I thought his clients needed wheelchairs?” Victoria had scoffed.

“He sells to hospitals too,” Sofia huffed, as though Victoria were ridiculous. 

Victoria didn’t bother asking why hospitals cared about Deric’s money. Didn’t they need wheelchairs whether he was rich or poor?

Everything was for show. Inviting everyone to the Reeve Hall at seven, and then arriving at twenty to eight so everyone would turn at their entrance. They did make a beautiful couple. Or at least Sofia was beautiful. Deric attempted dignity with his graying temples and polished shoes. Victoria saw him check their sheen before walking in. Sofia seemed the perfect blushing bride with her daffodil frock and golden hair dangling from an up-do. Despite their picture perfect smiles, Victoria’s stomach turned to look at them. 

She knew it was wrong, but how could she stop it? Sofia would only accused her of jealousy. She had to confront him.

After the dishes were cleared and juleps served, tables were pushed back and music filled the hall. And this was the engagement party. Sulking in a shadowed corner, Victoria waited for her chance. As much as she hated him, what choice had she? 

Though there was a moment. Sofia must have returned from the bathroom. From the foyer, she stared at the dancers. Following her gaze, Victoria saw Deric whisper in Luan’s ear. Luan smiled at him, and a frown crease Sofia’s forehead.

Did she suspect what Victoria did? Victoria wanted to run to her and plead, ‘You don’t have to go do this.’ But the moment passed. Deric waved Sofia over and the three clinked glasses, laughing.

Victoria hated him. Couldn’t stand to even look at him.

A slow dance ended, and her parents found her. “We’re going now. Are you ready?” her father asked.

“Can I just drive you?” Victoria answered.

“Sure, but you don’t look like you’re having much fun.”

“I feel like doodling, and it’s nice to work on a long table.” Victoria said.

They nodded but looked worried.

“You should let me drive as I’ve not had anything to drink,” Victoria said. Her father gave his keys.

After dropping them off, Victoria picked up coffee from Tim’s and a notepad and pencil from the Dollarstore. The quiet was comforting, and without her parents watching, getting Deric alone would be easier. 

Back in the hall, she slunk back to her place. Ignoring the pounding music, she began sketching the dancers. Waiting.

When would she get her chance? Deric never seemed alone, but always nudged some woman’s shoulder or had his hand on the small back of some cocktail dress. Sofia left the dancefloor more than he did. When she went to the bathroom again, Victoria decided to take her chance. At least the coffee was keeping her awake. 

“Victoria,” Deric greeted, grinning.

She glared back, and he laughed, kissing her cheek and spinning her around.

“Hardly recognize you without your paint stained jeans,” Deric said. The music was so loud, he had to holler in her ear.

Not wanting to stand amongst the throng of swaying bodies, yelling, Victoria shouted, “Can we talk somewhere?”

Deric arched his eyebrows at her as though she’d made a lewd suggestion. Was he drunk? Never. His cold, sharp eyes noticed everything.

Nodding, he motioned for her to lead, and followed her off the floor.

Victoria didn’t know where to bring him, and so let him take her hand and lead her to a back kitchen, behind which was an office. Flicking on the lights, he shut the door behind them.  Eyes, bright and as dark as honey, raked over her. 

“What do you want, Vicky?” he asked darkly.

Victoria stomach felt hollow. Unable to stand looking at him, her lashes fluttered down nervously. But she was determined. She’d tell him. Wetting her lips, she asked, “Why are you marrying my sister?”

“Why didn’t you ask your sister?” Deric asked. His eyes felt hot on her flesh.

No! This was not why she’d wanted to see him.

Hand on door handle, Victoria watched him lean against the office desk. He laughed at her. Silently. His eyes and the twist of his mouth mocked.  

“Sofia’s too good for you,” Victoria said.

“I know,” Deric agreed, “but if she doesn’t, why should I argue.”

Asshole! Wanting to hit him, Victoria’s grip tightened on the door handle.

“Leave her alone.”

“No, and that’s not why you’ve asked to speak with me. Come on now, fool girl. Don’t pretend. Or do you even lie to yourself?”

Bastard. 

Victoria wanted to strike smug look from his face, but didn’t dare. 

Watching her, he stretched like a cat. Victoria glared back. Then he pounced.

Victoria tried to yank open the door, but he flung it shut.

“Saucy wench.” His hands went to her shoulders. Lips to her throat.

No! But it was too late to swing at him.

Demon spawn.

She might not know addiction, but for this her stomach twisted and tightened. His hands were on her hips. Swaying, dancing battle. Forcing her down. The heat of his hands and breath scorched. Blinding. All was groaning feeling.

No!

Victoria wanted to scream. But she wanted this. More. She hated him. But. The door was hard. Tumbling across the desk, bruising. Over with one pounding song. New music began.

Victoria shut her eyes while Deric straightened his clothes. 

“I’ve always time for you, dear Vic,” he said sauntering from the room.

Victoria wanted to die.

He was monstrous, but no one believed her. That was not why. How could she get Sofia to see like a vampire, he mesmerized?

**

If she suspected anything, Sofia never said. But maybe she was just glad, they were getting married. They’d have a good life together and a perfect wedding. Sofia, with her golden hair and skin, was going to be a beautiful bride. And she was so happy. Bubbly as champagne. 

Unlike her scowling sister.

Victoria had nerve to stalk him at their engagement party. A woman on a mission, she crossed the dance floor, pointed in his face and demanded, “I have to talk with you.”

That was one thing for Victoria. She certainly had no fear of what people thought. Which did her no good. Maybe she thought being this crazy artist, she could get away with hysterics, but she made Deric shutter. Still, he nodded. Fine. Let her talk. Spew out whatever mad ravings tormented. With a waving hand, Deric motioned for her to lead, but she didn’t even know where to go. He had to bring her to the manager’s back office.

Flicking on the light, he crossed to the office desk and plopped down. Waited for her to get the fury out of her system. “What do you want, Vicky?”

“Why are you marrying my sister?”

Jealous cow. “Why don’t you ask your sister?” Deric answered. 

Tall and lanky, Victoria might have been pretty. If she ever smiled.

“Sofia’s too good for you,” Victoria said.

“I know, but if she doesn’t, why should I argue?” Deric laughed, hoping she’d smile.

Having none of it, Victoria looked like she wanted to bash him. “Leave her alone.”

It was ridiculous. Even if Sofia wasn’t pregnant, Deric wouldn’t take Victoria. She was a shrew, and he hadn’t Petruchio’s patience. 

What did she want? Instead of talking, she stood awkwardly fumbling with the door lock. Click lock. Click unlock. Outside the band played, ‘fishing in the dark.’

Twisting about the door, she looked like she wanted to hit him, but didn’t dare. Her glaring eyes were dark. Intense. Maybe her passion wasn’t anger. Women are such a mystery. The more hateful they seem.

Deric stretch his legs out in front of him. Arched his back. Watched her squirm under his gaze. “You said you wanted to talk, so what do you want?”

Standing, Deric went to her. Victoria hesitated and then determinedly yanked open the door. Deric shut it firm. Locked it better. “Saucy wench,” he said, his hands finding her shoulders. His lips her throat. She wriggled and cooed like a sparrow.

***

Deric said he wanted their wedding to be the grandest Lanoque had ever seen. He wanted doves released from golden cages, a lobster on each plate and the scent of roses to hover in the Reeve Hall air. 

And Sofia had been scared to tell him. She suspected he saw other women and didn’t know how he’d react. What if he got mad? Demanded she get rid of it?

She’d gone to his store Monday after four, knowing he’d be there and almost finished. His secretary, Melinda, greeted Sofia with a cool but pleasant nod and pointed to where Deric examined inventory on the floor. Was Melinda surprised by the visit? Did other women come in looking for him? 

What if he threw her out saying it wasn’t his? That was crazy, Sofia knew. He was always charming in front of clients. Still, fear was biting.

Meeting him at back counter, Sofia had said, “Can we talk?”

“Not words a man wants to hear,” Deric had said, tugging a strand of her hair. When she didn’t smile, he rapped on his desk, before leading her out back.

“Drink?” he asked getting glasses. 

“I can’t,” Sofia had answered.

“Why?” Deric asked, sticking ice in the glasses. 

Sofia sunk into the lounge couch. 

How could she tell him? What if he started bellowing? Accusing her? She’d heard of men claiming to be tricked. Or trapped.

Going to the fridge, Deric held up a diet coke to her, but she shook her head and pointed to the ginger ale. Thoughtfully, he filled their glasses and brought them to the table in front of her. Sitting beside her, he put an arm on the couch back and a hand on her knee. Feeling her tremble, he said, “You’re pregnant.”

Tears filled her eyes. Blinding her. The arm about her back drew her close. “There. There. You feel freezing.” He held her until she warmed and then passed her the ginger ale. “What did you wanted to do?”

Sofia had not even thought that far. It felt good to be alone there with him in the quiet of his work lunch room. Safe. 

Looking down at her still shaky, naked fingers, Sofia answered. “I’d like a ring.” She didn’t even know why she said it.

“Did you want to get married?” Deric asked, bringing his glass to his lips.  “I’ll get you a ring that shines across the room.”