Page 15 of Accidentally Marrying the Prisoner
“No?” Mirabeth answers, casting me a questioning look.
“No?” Mom asks with a growing smile. “You’re not sure if you’re?—”
“I am not an axe murderer, or, like, any kind of murderer.”
“Well, that’s good.” Mom leans in and says, “Because truthfully, I was thinking, what kind of person would sign up to marry someone sight unseen unless there was something seriously wrong with them?” She laughs it off, though I’m sure she’d been genuinely worried.
“I thought I was signing up for a dance,” Mirabeth says with a grimace. “Not getting married.”
“Oh, well, what a happy little accident!” Mom looks back and forth between us with a twinkle in her eye. She finally lets go of Mirabeth when I pull my wife into my side, if only so my mom will leavesomefeeling in Mirabeth’s hand. And also, if Mirabeth passes out, I’ll be able to catch her. “Not that it matters or anything, I’d still love them the same, but it’s nice to know more of my future grandbabies are going to be gorgeous. Just gorgeous.” Mom even claps her hands with a little squeal.
Mirabeth’s mouth falls open, the same as mine does.
“I’m only twenty-three,” Mirabeth says. “Why is everyone so obsessed with me getting pregnant?”
Mom tilts her head to the side, curious as she studies Mirabeth’s face. “You look familiar. Have we met?” She snaps her fingers. “You wouldn’t happen to be related to Nurse Perkins, would you?”
Mirabeth gapes. “You know my mom?”
“Oh my, yes! I ran into her several times at the prison.” Her eyes crinkle at the corners when she smiles. “She was the one who encouraged me to get Conrad to sign up for the marriage program. Lovely woman.”
The rest of the guests, who had waited patiently during my reunion with Mom, finally surge forward, cutting into what other revelations might have been made. They create a circle around us as congrats and well-wishes fly my way, hands patting my shoulders, while Mom moves on to hosting. It doesn’t escape my notice that many of them can’t hold eye contact with me for long.
I don’t realize I’m gripping Mirabeth’s waist too tightly until she pinches my side, then twines her clammy fingers between mine. From the side of her mouth, she whispers, “Relax. We got this.”
I squeeze her hand, finding myself even more grateful that she’s here, wondering how it is that this strange, argumentative woman is the one giving me the strength to keep going.
My older brother, Brad, is the first to yank me out of the inner circle into a hug, forcing me to let go of Mirabeth’s hand so she doesn’t stumble forward. He pounds my back while I loosely mimic his actions, reminding myself to lock down my expression.
“Glad you’re home.” He squeezes my upper arms and cuts his gaze to Mirabeth, who has stepped forward.
With Brad’s history, and the fact that he looks like me if I were to eat my weight in protein powder and shave my beard, I instinctively drop an arm over Mirabeth’s shoulders when they shake hands. It irks me, his eyes on my wife while he smiles with teeth that are straighter and unnaturally brighter than mine, wearing an outfit that is just as casual but likely costs twice as much. The only thing I’ve got over him is a felony and one inch in height.
I don’t look directly at Alisa beside Brad until she inches forward and says to Mirabeth, “Hi, I’m Alisa, Conrad’s—” She stops abruptly, smoothing out the nonexistent wrinkles of her short, white dress. I’m pretty sure it’s the same one she wore to our engagement party. “Sister-in-law.”
I think Brad and I both know she was, mistakenly, going to sayfiancée, though neither of us reacts, other than when Brad slides his arm around Alisa’s back possessively. Alisa tips her chin up, shaking out her curled, long blonde hair, as she smiles serenely at Brad, whose jaw ticks. There’s genuine warmth between them, but I’m sure I’d be just as anxious right now about this little reunion if I had been the one to steal her from my brother.
“This is Drew,” Brad says, relaxing some and nodding to the little boy hugging his mother’s leg.
Just about to turn four years old, Drew is a carbon copy of his dad, me, and most heartbreakingly, his Uncle Andrew, too, with a touch of red in his brown hair. I can’t take my eyes off him; Mom’s pictures have never done him justice. I wish I could. I really do. But it’s like Andrew has come back to life. I would fall to my knees and weep after pulling my nephew in for a hug if it weren’t for Brad staring so hard at me, scrutinizing my reaction.
“Right. Alisa. I’m Mirabeth, Conrad’s wife,” Mirabeth says loudly. She curls into my side and rests her left palm on my stomach as if it’s the most natural thing in the world for her to do, giving me something other than little Drew to focus on. Gone is the shy, screechy creature from yesterday when Mirabeth says with a chuckle, “I guess I have you to thank, sis.”
Alisa asks, “For what?”
“Well, if it weren’t for you…” Mirabeth walks her fingertips up my stomach to lay her hand flat over my heart that’s still beating too fast as I try to curtail my emotions. “I wouldn’t have met my wonderful husband. So, thank you.”
If it weren’t for the crowd making small talk around us, we’d be able to hear a pin drop as the four of us go silent.
“Oh,” Alisa eventually says while Brad’s hand tightens around her ribs. Her laugh is as strained and weak as Brad’s smile when she says, “You’re welcome.”
Mom pops up at my side, saving us from any further awkwardness. “I’m afraid Bridget couldn’t make it, but your dad is outside grilling. Come on.”
“That was smooth,” I say to Mirabeth as Mom drags the two of us through the house painted in a variety of blues, decorated from wall to wall in seashells and pelicans, to the backyard. “Thanks for coming with me.”
“Of course,” she says simply. “Who’s Bridget?” she asks, trying to let go of my hand.
“My sister. She’s the oldest. Works at the Capitol in Austin,” I answer, holding tighter to Mirabeth’s hand. I can’t let it go when she’s my lifeline as Mom leads us past the rows of plastic picnic tables of seated guests to the left side of the expansive yard, where Dad is talking to my old little league coach while manning the grill.
