Chapter 6 - The Empty Tent
Saturday dawned bright and beautiful.
It was exactly the kind of crisp, clear autumn day you pray for when planning an outdoor wedding. The sky was a brilliant blue, and the leaves on the vines were just beginning to turn shades of gold and crimson.
At 2:00 PM, the time the ceremony was supposed to begin, I was sitting on my back porch with a glass of lemonade.
There was no white tent.
There was no string quartet playing softly in the background.
There were no caterers rushing around with trays of champagne.
There was only the sound of the wind moving through the valley, and the distant call of a hawk circling overhead.
It was peaceful. But it was also heavy.
Despite everything, a part of my mother's heart mourned. I mourned for the little girl who used to run through the vines laughing, pretending to be a princess. I mourned for the wedding day I had dreamed of giving her.
I wondered where she was right now.
I wondered if she had gone through with it.
Around 4:00 PM, Ben came walking up from the tractor shed. He took off his hat and wiped his brow.
"Quiet day," he noted, leaning against the porch rail.
"Very," I replied.
"You did the right thing, Andrea," he said softly. "Thomas would have done the exact same."
"Thomas would have thrown Greg off the property by the scruff of his neck the first time he insulted my boots," I smiled softly at the memory of my late husband's fierce protectiveness.
"That he would have," Ben chuckled.
We sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes.
Then, the sound of tires crunching on gravel broke the stillness.
We both looked down the driveway.
It wasn't a sleek black sedan this time.
It was a yellow taxi.
The taxi pulled up to the main house and stopped. The door opened, and Samantha stepped out.
She was wearing sweatpants and an oversized college hoodie. Her hair was tied back in a messy knot, and her face was bare of makeup. She was carrying a single duffel bag.
She paid the driver, and the taxi pulled away, leaving her standing alone in the driveway.
Ben gave me a respectful nod, put his hat back on, and walked away toward the sheds to give us privacy.
I didn't rush down the stairs to meet her. I waited.
Samantha slowly walked up the steps to the porch. She dropped her bag on the wooden floorboards.
She looked at me, and her lower lip trembled.
"He left," she whispered.
I didn't say I told you so. I didn't ask for details.
"Come sit down," I said.
She collapsed into the chair beside me and finally broke. The sobs wracked her body, violent and uncontrollable. She pulled her knees up to her chest, crying for the illusion she had lost, the humiliation she had suffered, and the terrible realization of her own foolishness.
I reached out and placed my hand over hers.
May you like
My hands were rough. They were calloused. There was dirt under the fingernails.
She held onto them like a lifeline.
