A Family Wedding by Angela Benson released on Feb 14, 2006 is available now for purchase.

A Family Wedding

By Angela Benson

Kimani Press

Copyright © 2006 Angela Benson
All right reserved.
ISBN: 0373285531

"'God bless Daddy and Aunt Patsy and Grandma Ellis and Grandpa Ellis. And God, please say hi to Mommy and tell her that I love her and miss her. And say hi to Grandma Sanders and Grandpa Sanders, too.'"

Kenny Sanders listened to his six-year-old daughter, Wendy, as she knelt at the side of her bed. Her words were like a knife in his heart.

Remarkably, Wendy seemed to be handling the deaths of her mother and grandparents much better than he was. She was a happy child. Her face usually held a joyful smile and her eyes twinkled. Kenny thanked God for her every day. He didn't know what he'd do if he lost her, too. He hoped he'd never find out.

"'Oh, and God bless my new friend, Mrs. Walden,'' Wendy was saying. This was the first time Kenny had heard Wendy mention the name. He didn't like her having adult friends he didn't know about, especially with the kooks running around these days.

"'Amen,'' Wendy concluded. She got up from her knees and hopped into the white canopied bed Leah had been determined she'd have. Kenny smiled at the thought.

"'Who's Mrs. Walden, Peanut?'' Kenny asked.

"'She's a new teacher at school. Except she's not really a teacher. She said she was my friend.'"

Apparently this Mrs. Walden was a teacher's aide, Kenny thought as he tucked the pink-and-white covers around his daughter. He'd make a point of meeting her on his next visit to the school.

He tugged on one of the dark braids covering Wendy's small head. "'I'll have to meet this new friend of yours.'"

Wendy smiled the dimpled smile she'd inherited from him, and her eyes lit up with excitement. "'Does that mean you're coming to my class again, Daddy?'"

Kenny answered her smile with his own. He'd visited Wendy's class once before, on Career Day. "'So you like it when your daddy comes to visit your class?'"

Wendy leaned forward and wrapped her short arms around his chest. "'I love it when you come to my class, Daddy.'"

Kenny hugged her small body, glad she was his daughter and glad she loved him as much as he loved her. "'And I love you, Peanut,'' he said, giving Wendy a final squeeze before helping her lie down again. He'd been a parent long enough to know that even though her words were sincere, she wasn't above using them to extend her eight-thirty bedtime a few minutes longer.

"'Oh, Daddy, do I have to go to sleep now? I'm not sleepy.'' The practiced pout was there, and though it was effective, he wasn't giving in to it tonight.

"'Yes, you do, young lady,'' Kenny answered, his voice full of the warmth and love he felt for her. He tugged at one of her braids again. When he got the smile he wanted, he leaned over and kissed her forehead. "'Good night, Peanut.'"

"'Good night, Daddy. Sleep tight and don't let the bedbugs bite.'"

"'We don't have bedbugs, Wendy,'' he said, performing his role in the nightly ritual. She giggled as he switched off the light and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Kenny trooped down the carpeted stairs of the recently renovated eighty-year-old house he and Wendy shared. Friends had told him he was crazy to move out of the home he and Leah had bought. Wendy needs the continuity, they'd said. But Kenny didn't agree. He and Wendy needed a fresh start. They'd brought most of their furniture with them, so some things were the same. But some things weren't. This house didn't hold the pain the old house had. This house held hope for a new beginning.

Kenny hunkered down at the mahogany desk in the first-floor room he'd designated as his office and pulled the depositions for the Thompson trial out of his briefcase. Being in private practice allowed him to choose his cases, but sometimes he was still forced to work extended hours. He made it a point to hold off on the overtime until after Wendy was asleep. That decision resulted in many long nights, but the uninterrupted time with his daughter was more than worth it.

For the millionth time, Kenny wished he'd listened when Leah had tried to tell him that over the years. But he hadn't.

Now he understood. Family was important. He wished he and Leah could have shared more nights together with Wendy, watching her grow. But wishing couldn't change the past. The fact was he hadn't been a good husband to his wife until she was too sick to enjoy him. He only hoped she looked down on him now and took joy in seeing that he'd learned what she'd tried so hard to teach him. It wasn't much, but it was all he could hope for.

"'Daddy,'' Wendy said the next morning, her mouth packed with one of the pancakes Kenny had prepared for breakfast.

"'Don't talk with your mouth full, Peanut. I've told you about that,'' Kenny chided. He heaped four pancakes and six strips of bacon on his plate and took a seat at the kitchen table next to his daughter.

"'I forgot,'' Wendy said, her mouth still full. Kenny hid his smile by taking a swallow of his orange juice. He found that keeping a straight face when his daughter did something funny but not appropriate was one of his toughest parental jobs.

"'Daddy,'' Wendy said again, this time with no food in her mouth. "'Do you think God will send me a new mommy?'"

Kenny choked on his juice and then patted his chest to get the air flowing in his lungs again.

"'Are you all right, Daddy?'' Wendy asked, her eyes full of fear. That look was one he'd hoped never to see again. Fear. Fear of the unknown. Fear of losing someone else.

Kenny quickly cleared his throat and reassured his daughter that he was fine.

"'So,'' Wendy repeated, "'do you think God will send me a new mommy?'"

Kenny looked into the big, brown eyes that were identical to Leah's and stalled for time. "'Do you want a new mommy, Peanut?'"

Wendy scrunched up her pug nose while she pondered the question, her milk mustache making her look like a circus clown. "'Mommy said I would get a new mommy when it was time. Is it time yet, Daddy?'"

Kenny felt as if he'd been gut-punched. Leah had said this to Wendy? He gazed out the window at the clear blue morning sky, a hint of the beautiful spring day to come, and tried to come up with an appropriate answer to Wendy's question. He hadn't formed one when he returned his gaze to her.

"'What made you think of this now, Wendy?'' She hunched her small shoulders and stabbed her fork into her remaining pancake. "'All the other girls at school have mommies. Meg Thomas has two. And Carrie Williams got a new mommy after hers died. I just thought it might be time for God to give me my new mommy.'"

The matter-of-fact way she answered his question relieved some of his anxiety. It didn't appear that she'd been thinking too long or too hard about the new mommy Leah had promised her. He had some time to work out an answer.

He glanced at his watch. "'It's time for school, Peanut. Finish your breakfast so we can get going. We'll talk about your new mommy tonight.'"

Wendy chattered for the entire drive to the school. Kenny made the appropriate responses, but his thoughts were still on her earlier question. He thought he'd done a good job with Wendy, but obviously she needed more. She needed a mother.

What was he going to do? It wasn't as if he had a spare woman lying around that he could up and marry. Hell, he hadn't even dated in the two years since Leah's death.

When he pulled into the school yard, Wendy leaned over and kissed his jaw. "'See you later, Daddy.'' She opened the door and bounded out. Before she reached the playground, she turned around and yelled, "'Don't forget Aunt Patsy is coming over tonight. She said she had a surprise for me.'"

Kenny should have chastised Wendy for yelling, but the thought of his best friend's visit took over his thoughts. He'd tell Patsy about Wendy's question. Maybe she'd have some insight for him.

From her seat on the overstuffed couch in her living room, Patsy Morgan stared at the envelope propped against the floral centerpiece on her dining-room table. She'd picked it up more than once since she'd gotten it out of the mailbox yesterday, but she had yet to open it. Who would have thought a letter would have this kind of effect on her? she wondered. It was only a letter.

Now that was a lie. It was more than a letter. It was a symbol of the biggest failure in what seemed to her like a lifetime of failures. She knew she was overreacting, but she couldn't stop herself.

She slowly got up from the couch and inched her way to the table. She picked up the crisp, ivory envelope and turned it over in her hands. "'Jacobson and Son, Attorneys-at-law,'' she said, reading the return address. She didn't have to open the envelope to know what was in it. It was her final divorce decree.

Six years of her life wiped away by a single sheet of paper.

She carefully lifted the sealed flap of the envelope, as if honoring the solemnity of the moment. "'This document signifies the dissolution of the marriage of Patsy Morgan Baxter and Theodore Randolph Baxter,'' she read, before the tears in her eyes blurred the rest of the words. She placed the document back in the envelope and laid it on the table before dropping into one of the upholstered dining-room chairs.

Theo had been the love of her life. From the day she'd met him, there had been no question that she'd marry him and bear his children. She laughed dryly. She'd married him all right, but there'd been no children. And for that she was grateful. For a child, there was no such thing as an amicable divorce. She knew that because she still bore the scars from her parents' divorce.

Patsy pushed her unruly mane of black hair away from her face. What had happened to her and Theo? she wondered. She'd loved him so much, and they'd been so full of hope and plans for the future. She remembered clearly the passion they'd shared during their courtship and the first two years of their marriage. It had been all she'd hoped for.

But something had happened. Suddenly their passion was gone. She had known the end was near when she'd found herself studying the patterns on the ceiling while she and Theo made love. Of course, he'd noticed the change in her, in them, but he was no more able to talk to her about his feelings than she was able to talk to him about hers.

When their desire waned, there was nothing left for them. Though she and Theo had shared a passion that was ten degrees above boiling, she now realized they hadn't had the deep, abiding friendship it took to make it through the normalcy of day-to-day life. When the passion fizzled, so did the marriage.

Soon after, Patsy had learned about Leah's illness and understood that her lifelong friend, Kenny, needed her to help with his daughter. It was easy to pack up and move back home to Grove City, Virginia. Theo hadn't tried to force her to stay. He'd known their marriage was over as well as she had.

Surprisingly, in the two-and-a-half years since they'd separated, neither had taken the time to file for divorce. Until now. Theo had found somebody else and Patsy was glad for him. She just hoped he'd learned from their union and had cultivated a relationship that would endure the long haul.

Propping her legs up on the chair nearest her, she rolled her shoulders forward and pulled the belt of her ratty terry-cloth bathrobe tighter around her waist. She'd been smart to call and tell her secretary she wouldn't be in today. She needed the time to adjust to her new marital status. She laughed. "'Like my new marital status will make a difference.'"

She picked up the envelope again. It was only a letter, she thought. She turned it over in her hands a couple of times before getting up and heading for her bedroom.

Continues...

Excerpted from A Family Weddingby Angela Benson Copyright © 2006 by Angela Benson. Excerpted by permission.
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