Replacing Gentry by Julie N. Ford Page A

chest, trying to determine Daniel’s whereabouts in the suite. Though his smile had remained tight, his enthusiasm forced, his eye contact minimal, he had been the perfect host throughout the remainder of the reception, but then quiet during the ride over to the hotel. I wished I knew what he was thinking.
    Listening again, I heard the sound of scraping metal followed by the distant rush of falling water drifting into the silence. The sound grated across my frazzled nerves. Why was I so uneasy? All brides were anxious on their wedding nights, weren’t they? Second-guessing the decision to spend the rest of one’s life with the same person was perfectly normal. Right? Maybe what I’d felt at the reception was just anxiety manifesting as insecurity. But then there was that awkward scene with Johnny.
    Then again, what if I was just nervous because Daniel and I would be taking a large step into a physical intimacy I’d been excitedly dreading? What if we discovered that the heat between us didn’t hold past the smolder of our scarcely shared embraces? What if, as I expected, it did? Was I ready to dive headfirst into a pool of intimacy, I knew first hand from my experience with Finn, could drown me as easily as it could lift me up?
    But then what was the point in trying to clarify all of these what-ifs when our plummeting would not be immediate? Prior to our dip into the unknown, Daniel and I would have to put the unpleasantness from the reception behind us. Dragging in a heavy breath, I set my phone down on the cherry wood dresser and ventured on light feet back into the other room.
    His back to me, Daniel was gazing out the bay window, into the atrium of the Opry Land Hotel. Appropriately, our whirlwind courtship had begun and was ending in this very hotel. A full circle , I mused, my mind taking a short detour from my current dilemmas, scrolling back to the night we’d met and the way he had swept me up in his arms, leading me effortlessly around the dance floor before we’d shared our first kiss. The memory of our meeting had barely coaxed a smile from my lips when the grim face of the cadaver flashed before my eyes, leaving a trail of goose bumps down my arms.
    That night my opinionated ways had lit the spark of interest that had drawn Daniel to me. Tonight, my boldness at the reception seemed to have had the opposite effect.
    So, what has changed?
    “What happened to you at the reception?” he asked, directing his question beyond the window. “Why’d you disappear?”
    Threading my fingers together, I twisted my hands one way and then the other. “I just needed a little air,” I said, my response hinting at the complexity I’d omitted.
    “So you left me there, lookin’ like a fool in front of the only people whose opinions matter most to me?”
    I took a step forward. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking,” I said, wondering why I was sparing his feelings. He should know full well why I’d excused myself. I shouldn’t have to explain. “I was feeling overwhelmed and just needed a little break.”
    “From what?”
    “All those people with their narrow-minded comments and disapproving looks,” I said, my words heated with the frustration and confusion I’d harbored for the remainder of the evening. “And then the one time I try to offer an opinion on something, you cut me off!”
    He turned to face me, his eyes, taut and dark. “There are times and places for assertin’ one’s self, Marlie.” His voice was tired, matter-of-fact. “Contradictin’ a friend in a public settin’ is rude and uncalled for.”
    “I see,” I said, shifting my weight to one hip. “It’s perfectly acceptable for others to pelt me with their offensive remarks, and what’s my option?” I poked a finger to my chest. “Put a smile on my face and take my licks like a big girl ?”
    His expression took on a churlish edge. “I’m disappointed, Marlie,” he matched my clipped tone, “I thought you were stronger than