Page 132 of Kissing Kin
“Good to see you again.” The gray-haired man shook hands with Luke. “How can I help?”
“Can you issue us a marriage license?”
“I can as long as you both have your driver’s licenses, the fee, and the signed form.”
“Here’s the form.” I pulled the paper from the printer, signed it, and handed Luke the pen. “Your turn.” Then I faced Ben. “More importantly, can we still get married as planned?”
“As long as your wedding takes place 72 hours from now.” He checked his watch. “Which means after one thirty Friday…what time’s your ceremony?”
****
I woke screaming.
“What’s wrong?” Luke’s voice breathless, he vaulted from his air mattress.
“I dreamt Valentina showed up at our wedding.”
“How do you know it was Valentina?”
“I recognized her veil.”
“It’s just pre-wedding jitters.” He leaned over the bed to kiss me. “Go back to sleep.”
I nodded and lay in the dark, tossing and turning until I slipped into a fitful doze.
Again, Valentina visited my dreams, this time, lifting back her veil to reveal a pronounced cleft palate. Her scarred, upper lip hooked to her nose, and her bottom lip protruded. Then gradually her face morphed into Bea’s, exposing a faint scar on Bea’s upper lip, and the scent of cinnamon filled the air.
The microwave beeped, waking me with a start.
“Morning, sleepyhead.” Luke brought me a coffee mug and a steaming cinnamon roll. “Thought you’d like to start the day with a sugar rush.”
As I inhaled the aroma, my dream made sense. “Didn’t know you were a pastry chef.”
“I’m not.” He snickered. “But I can open a can and pop ’em in the oven with the best of ’em.”
I tried to smile my thanks but apparently didn’t succeed.
His grin faded. “Rough night?”
****
Wednesday night, what started as a sweet dream soured. After the minister said, “Speak now or forever hold your peace,” Bea stepped from behind the wedding arch and seized Luke’s hand.
Instead of pulling away, he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her in front of the gaping assembly. Then they ran off through the vineyard, hand in hand, leaving me, staring.
The dream changed. Now, Luke and I were newlyweds at our reception, cutting our wedding cake together.
Bea appeared from nowhere, lifted the cake with both hands, and pitched it at us. Then she broke a wine bottle against the table and, using the sharp edge as a short-range weapon, lunged at Luke. “If I can’t have you, no one will.”
I sat up in bed, drenched in sweat. Trying to get my bearings, I glanced about the cabin. Luke’s air mattress was empty, and Teddy was nowhere in sight. Did I oversleep? Slumping back against the pillows, I glanced at the time. Six. But the wall clock was crooked, as if someone had bumped into it, and the framed photo near the fireplace was askew.
The cabin door squeaked open with a drawn-out whine.
I scrambled to my feet.
As Teddy bounded inside, Luke poked his head in, then strode over. “Good, you’re awake.”
I took a deep breath and kissed him, preferring reality to my nightmare. “Were you redecorating?”