Page 16

Erik

It’s a half hour train ride from West Bank Station to Oakridge Station, the nearest stop to Blackstone Cellars. The train exits a tunnel, and we’re sandwiched between two hills of vines on either side. My eyes can’t focus on the rows as we speed past, there are so many.

Inessa is quiet on the journey. As we leave the apartment, she pulls a hat down over her head and puts on dark glasses, though the day is gray.

On the train, she looks out the window and talks about the scenery and the weather, but I can’t help feeling as if it’s a little forced.

“We’re here.” As the train approaches the station, I stand to let her out ahead of me. Her shoulders are tense beneath the beige jacket. She seems to hunch into herself. It’s a Sunday afternoon, and though there were plenty of people on the train when we got on, only three other people follow us onto the station. The sky is cloudy and there’s a chill in the breeze. Probably the reason why there aren’t more people taking advantage of the beautiful views down over Heartstone Harbor.

There’s a sign at the station exit directing us to Blackstone Cellars. “This way.”

She follows close to me and I try to shake off my worries. I’m probably just misreading things. “There are some pretty spots to have our photos taken up here. Looking out over the harbor.”

“Yes. It is beautiful.”

The path leads up a set of steps and down a ridge toward a large brick building with huge square windows. I don’t mind the walk, but if we get married here, we’ll need to hire a car. I know Inessa won’t want to walk from the train in her pretty dress.

It makes me smile imagining how beautiful she’ll look all dressed up in white. Though I hope she decides not to wear a veil. It would be a shame to cover up her face. Her expressive lips. Her deep, soulful eyes.

She surprises me by speaking. “I wish we could just get married today.”

“Today?” That’s the opposite of what I guessed she was thinking.

“It’s just... why wait? We have both agreed we want to be married, and you’re right, it’s beautiful here. If we do it today, then I am your wife. It is done.”

I don’t know what to say. I’m glad she still wants to go through with it. But I thought she would want to savor the special day.

“Then you like this place? ”

“I do.”

We approach the building. There are stone steps leading up to a deck covered with a vine-draped pergola.

Inessa pauses on the first step, turning back to look up at me. Even on the step above me, she still has to look up. Her head barely clears my shoulders. “I like you, Erik. A lot. You make me feel safe.”

All the stiff awkwardness of the train ride is erased in a single moment when she hesitantly reaches out and slips her small hand into mine. My heart is dancing a wild rhythm as we walk up the stairs and into a large dining room together. The tables are set for a wedding later today, with heavy white tablecloths and bunches of flowers in white and pink. The chairs have those neat fabric covers on them with the material bunched at the back and tied with a ribbon.

Inessa looks around. “How many guests are you inviting? I think we will not need such a big space.”

My heart sinks again. “No. I guess not.”

“Perhaps they have a smaller room.”

I’m about to reply, but a tall blonde woman wearing a long black skirt and a white shirt comes out of a door to what looks like the kitchen. When she speaks, her voice is accented like Inessa’s and I realize she must be Russian. “Good afternoon. May I help you? You are looking for a table?”

Inessa goes still and silent, so I answer. “Hi. We’re actually here to meet with your function manager. About a wedding?”

“Ah, perfect. Let me take you to her office.” She gestures toward the back of the large open space where a small door must lead to the office she’s speaking of. “Is this your first time visiting Blackstone? ”

Inessa is still silent.

“Ah, yeah. I’m from Heartstone, but I’ve never been up to the hills before and my fiancé has only recently moved here.”

“Oh really? Where from?”

I open my mouth to answer, but finally Inessa speaks. “St. Petersburg.”

I frown. I’m sure that’s not what she said on her profile, but perhaps I’m getting it wrong. Wouldn’t be the first time I forgot something important.

The waitress says something in Russian, and of course I don’t catch it. Inessa gives her a very short response.

Then the office door opens and an older lady with red-rimmed glasses and bright red lipstick greets us. “Welcome. You must be Erik and Inessa. I’m Crystal, the function manager at Blackstone.”

The waitress is still standing behind us. I can sense the tension radiating off Inessa, and I’m not sure why. Surely it’s nice to meet a fellow Russian. She steps closer to me until our arms brush and I nearly fall down when she slides her hand into mine for the second time in one day.

To clear the tension, I smile and hold out my right hand to Crystal. “Yeah, that’s us. Thanks for meeting us. We were hoping you might be able to fit in something small at the last minute.”

Inessa tugs at my hand. “Actually, you know what? I’m sorry to do this, but I’m not feeling well. Do you think we could come back another time?”

I look around at her in surprise. Come to think of it, she does look a little paler than usual. “What is it? Are you going to be alright? ”

She gives me a grim smile. “I have a headache. I think a—what is the word?”

“A migraine?”

“Yes. This. A migraine. I’m sorry.”

Crystal is still smiling but she looks a little puzzled. “Well I do hope you feel better soon. Would you like to reschedule for next weekend?”

Inessa squeezes my hand and I try to work out what she’s trying to tell me. “Ah...”

“Maybe another time.”

Crystal looks a little taken aback and I can’t say I blame her. We’ve come all this way only to turn around without even looking over the place! But if Inessa isn’t feeling well, I guess we have to go.

“Well, can I call you a cab?”

“No. That’s fine. We will go on the train,” Inessa replies before I can answer yes.

“Are you sure?” I ask her.

“Sure.”

What else can I do but turn and lead her out of the restaurant and back down the path toward the train station? The only comfort I have is that she doesn’t let go of my hand the whole way there.

I’m quiet, trying to puzzle out the situation, but eventually the train arrives on the platform and we get on and my head is still a muddle. “Inessa, is everything OK? Really OK?”

“Just a headache.”

I look at her. “Really? Because I know I’m dense sometimes, but that seemed strange to me.”

There’s a pause.

Then she sighs and looks away. “Yes. Migraine.”

She’s silent all the way home.