Melissa's Arc

Chapter 3 of 4

Tom stood beside her at the bedroom door, waiting. He wore his good suit, the one he saved for weddings and funerals, and his hands shook slightly as he adjusted his tie. Melissa smoothed the lace at her waist and smiled at him. He didn't smile back. Outside, the clearing behind the cottage had transformed overnight. Chairs stood in neat rows facing a heart-shaped wreath woven thick with wildflowers—sunflowers, daisies, poppies in pink and red. Her mother must have recruited half the town to pull this together. Melissa walked beside her father down the stone path, one hand tucked in the crook of his arm. His breathing was shallow and quick. She wanted to ask if he was all right, but she didn't. She told herself he was simply emotional, the way fathers get on wedding days. Halfway to the wreath, Tom stopped. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a small bouquet of meadow flowers tied with string. His mouth opened, then closed. He pressed the flowers into her hands and looked past her shoulder toward the guests already seated. "You deserve better than this," he said, quiet enough that only she could hear. Then he started walking again, his grip on her arm firm and final. Melissa stood frozen for three heartbeats, the bouquet trembling in her hands. She knew what he meant. She'd always known. But hearing it spoken out loud on the path to her own wedding ripped something open inside her that she'd worked years to keep sealed. She looked toward the wreath where the chaplain waited, where her soon-to-be husband would be standing in minutes. Her father was still walking, expecting her to follow. She took a breath, adjusted her grip on the flowers, and caught up to him. When they reached the end of the path, he kissed her cheek without looking at her and stepped aside.