Chapter 4 - MARTHA'S VERSION
Nick’s phone had forty-three missed calls.
Mine had eighteen.
There were messages from relatives.
Friends.
People who had not even attended the wedding.
My cousin sent me a screenshot.
Martha had posted publicly.
I stared at the words.
LAST NIGHT, A PRIVATE FAMILY TRADITION WAS DELIBERATELY MISREPRESENTED BY PEOPLE WHO WANTED TO HUMILIATE ME.
I read it twice.
Nick read it over my shoulder.
His expression hardened.
She continued:
I DEEPLY LOVE MY SON.
I WELCOMED HIS WIFE INTO OUR FAMILY DESPITE YEARS OF DIFFICULTY.
WHAT HAPPENED AT THE RECEPTION WAS INTENDED AS A SYMBOLIC FAMILY CUSTOM.
UNFORTUNATELY, EMOTIONS WERE HIGH, AND CERTAIN PEOPLE USED THE MOMENT TO CREATE DRAMA.
I almost admired the confidence required to write it.
Almost.
Then I saw the comments.
Several relatives had already contradicted her.
Linda wrote:
MARTHA, I HAVE BEEN IN THIS FAMILY FOR FORTY-ONE YEARS.
THIS TRADITION DOES NOT EXIST.
Another cousin wrote:
I WAS MARRIED IN 2009.
NO ONE CUT MY HAIR.
Then Nick’s grandmother commented.
Rose Bennett was eighty-three years old.
She rarely used social media.
Her message consisted of one sentence.
MARTHA, PLEASE STOP LYING ABOUT OUR FAMILY.
I showed Nick.
He laughed once.
It wasn’t a happy laugh.
“She got Grandma involved.”
Twenty minutes later, Rose called.
Nick answered on speaker.
“Grandma?”
“I would like to know why your mother has apparently lost her mind.”
Despite everything, I smiled.
Nick sat on the edge of the hotel bed.
“She cut Emily’s hair.”
“I heard.”
There was a pause.
“Emily?”
“I’m here.”
“My dear, I am deeply sorry.”
“You didn’t do anything.”
“I know.”
Her voice became sharper.
“But my family name is being attached to foolishness, so I have unfortunately become involved.”
Nick closed his eyes.
I knew that expression.
He was trying not to laugh.
Rose continued.
“There has never been any tradition involving scissors and a bride.”
“I know.”
“In fact, your grandfather would have removed anyone from our wedding who tried.”
That made me smile again.
Then Rose asked something unexpected.
“Did Martha say why she did it?”
Nick and I looked at each other.
“No.”
Rose was silent.
“Grandma?”
“I want you both to visit me.”
“When?”
“Today.”
Nick frowned.
“Is something wrong?”
“I don’t know.”
Her voice changed.
“But there is something you should see.”
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
“A letter your father gave me before he died.”
Nick stopped moving.
His father, Thomas Bennett, had died six years earlier after a sudden heart attack.
Nick rarely spoke about the final weeks.
Martha had controlled almost everything surrounding the funeral.
Nick swallowed.
“What letter?”
“One I was told never to give you unless your mother interfered with your marriage.”
The hotel room seemed to shrink.
Nick stood.
“My father wrote that?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Seven years ago.”
Nick looked at me.
Seven years ago.
Before we were engaged.
Before we were even talking seriously about marriage.
Rose continued.
“I hoped I would never have to show it to you.”
Nick’s voice was barely audible.
“What did Dad know?”
Rose answered carefully.
May you like
“More than you did.”
Then she hung up.
