The Heart's Ashes
Page 2

With my dress weighing me down, I fought to find oxygen in the air as Emily dragged me across the road. We stopped on the lawn outside the nursing home, right where we could hear the quiet chatter of admiring grannies on the porch.
“Ara? What is it?” She leaned closer, half looking back at the church.
“David.”
“What about him?”
“I love him.”
“I know, but—”
“I can’t promise my heart to another man. Not when it still belongs to someone else. How is that fair?”
“Fair? Fair for whom?”
“To Mike, Em. I love him, but I’ll never be his true love. If I marry him, he loses all hope of ever having a love like I had with David. I don’t think that’s fair.”
“Ara, he loves you that way.”
“But it’s not reciprocated—not like it should be.”
“Yes, it is—you said you love him.”
“I do. I really do. But it’s a different kind of love.”
“Then why did you say you’d marry him?”
“I—” I closed my eyes. “I felt confused. I want to marry him, want to have his babies and be with him always, more than anything. But if I’d never known true love—with David—I’d never’ve known any different. But now...”
Emily took a deep breath and looked over her shoulder. “Ara. Mike’s waiting for you. He’s in there right now, waiting for you to marry him, because he loves you—like you love David. That’s enough for him. He knows how you feel.”
“I know, Em. But I feel like I’m cheating him out of ever feeling the beauty of true love.”
“He feels it, Ara.” Emily laughed. “Trust me, he feels it.”
I shook my head.
“Ara, you’ll break his heart. If you do this now, it’ll kill him. You can’t leave him at the altar.”
“I know, Em—but I can’t marry him either.”
“Then you should at least tell him. I’ll go get him.” She turned and took a step away.
“Wait!” I grabbed her arm. “Just wait.”
She stepped back beside me, wearing a smug grin.
“Does he really? I mean, is he happy to have only half a heart for the rest of his life?” My tone rose upward.
Emily moistened her lips. “Ara, you have no idea how much that boy loves you. You’d be a fool not to marry him.”
Exhaling deeply through my nose, I looked at the church once more. Mike’s mum and Vicki stood on the steps at the entrance, watching us.
Emily’s right. I swallowed hard and squared my shoulders. I can’t leave him at the altar. It’ll destroy him if I do that. I know I should marry him—but why doesn’t it feel right? “Okay.” Running my fingers over the delicate silver and yellow cherry blossoms on my wedding dress, I let the gristly feel of the embroidery ground me for a moment, then nodded at Em. “I’m all right. I’ll be fine.”
“Just remember, Ara, you’re not walking down the aisle in front of all those people, you’re walking to Mike. Just focus on that.”
“Thanks.” Somehow, that makes me feel worse.
“All ready then?” Dad asked, offering his arm as we stepped up on the grass in front of him.
“Yep.” I think.
“Here we go, then.” Emily grinned, straightening the shoe-string straps on her yellow dress.
We waited under the eaves of the church roof, shaded from the white glow of sun on grey clouds, as Em and Alana straightened my dress, tidied my veil, and I listened to the sound of people settling into wooden pews. When the doors opened and music filled the air, the girls stopped fussing, filing together to take the steps, leaving Dad and I at the base where no one could see us.
Quiet whispers of admiration hummed over the music, but no laughing, which meant Alana obviously managed to walk okay in those shoes. Then, the volume of the song increased; I took a deep breath.
“That’s our cue.” Dad patted my hand, which tightened around his arm.
“Dad—”
“Yeah?” His blue eyes held the icy colour of concern.
“I...N—nothing.” I nodded. “I’m fine.”
“Okay. Come on.”
Slowly, step-by-step, I walked beside Dad. As we peeked over the top of the stairs and became visible to the eyes of our witness’ for the first time, the whole room came to a standstill.
A white blur seemed to form around the edges of each face, and the music became muffled background noise in my own head. As I passed the rows of seats, one by one, they disappeared—melted into dark shadow—the tears and smiles people held as they saw my dress faded, I was alone. The only other person in the world was Mike. My Mike—waiting for me at the doorway before the light; his hands clasped in front of him and the widest grin across his lips, his eyes a mix of awe and pride. He glanced at the front row for a second, nodding.
Mike. I’m walking to Mike. No one can see the shaking in my hands or hear the thump of my heart. No one knows I’m about to turn and run the other way.
Each step I took was in slow motion, like the aisle had been paved with a thousand lifetimes of silence. I needed to get to Mike and hold his hand before my resolve slipped completely. I counted the steps in my head; saw the bump in the carpet I remembered from rehearsals.
Two steps, Ara. Two steps.
“Baby,” Mike whispered, his voice echoing in my dark world. He reached his hand out, shook Dad’s, his movements so slow, deliberate, calm. A white blur of light settled around him, his skin aglow, his hair shining like a halo. But as I took the final step, Dad closing the gap by placing my hand in Mike’s, the piano slowed and the notes flattened out around me—making the room spin in slow motion with them.
I felt the warmth then, of Mike’s hand, as his solid, strong fingers closed around mine—drawing me back to earth. It all just felt so wrong. They should be cold—not warm. They felt too warm.
A quiver of panic rose in my chest. The eyes of everyone in the church burned through me as the music stopped, the priest waited atop the step, and I stood at the base—staring at Mike’s hand.
“Ara?” When I looked up, meeting the concerned gaze of my best friend, he extended his other hand, as if to catch me. “Ara? Are you okay?”