Bride of Lazarus

5; The Night Before

I awaken to the heavenly smell of roasted chicken and potatoes invading my bedroom. If I hadn't already been drooling, I certainly am now. (Yet another charming characteristic I inherited from mom: drooling in my sleep). With great difficulty, I manage to peel the goose down comforter off my body and rise to my feet. So tired. Is it really seven already? Sure enough, the old grandfather clock in the corner boasts 6:41. I slept longer than I had intended to. That usually means that Mom did too. However, when I cross the hall and peek into her room, it's empty.

I find a fluffy robe in my closet and quickly tie it on. Then, I'm padding down the stairs, still trying desperately to clear the crust from my eyes before I run into Lazarus. Wishful thinking, of course. On the second floor (of five by the way), Lazarus materializes around a corner and almost wipes the floor with me.

"GODS," I shout in terror, literally clutching my pearls. It looks as though I've scared Lazarus, too. We laugh for a long minute at the shared heart palpitation, then he touches my arm and I feel another jolt.

"You alright," he asks. "Did I get you good?" I giggle again, only this time out of nervous habit.

"Good? You scared the living---" I stop myself right before shit flies out of my mouth. "The living shortcake out of me," I finish awkwardly, and Lazarus laughs from the pit of his stomach.

"Never heard that expression before. Lorraine will like it." Then, he offers me his arm and says, "come on, I'll introduce you."

If it weren't for the fluffy robe, I'd feel like a princess. Handsome escort, grand palace, a feast fit for a king and queen in the dining room... It all feels like it was pulled out of a fairytale. I like this life so far. Lazarus only unwinds his arm from mine when he finds Lorraine, cursing as she rifles through the cupboards in search of a missing ingredient. "Lorie," he calls, "there's someone I'd very much like for you to meet." Lorraine brushes a cloud of flour off of her apron, then turns to us both with a cough.

"'M sorry, love," she laughs at herself, "you'd think I would've cleaned myself up a bit, eh?" The first thing I notice is that Lorraine has the most lovely Welsh accent I've heard in my life. The second is her fantastic head of silvery curls. Almost as long and unruly as my own. She and I will get along just fine, I think.

"Nonsense," Lazarus squeezes her shoulder affectionately. "You look as beautiful as the day my old man hired you. Now, quiet a minute, would you?" Lorraine gives him a whack on the arm and he receives it with nothing but love. "Lorie, this is the woman I'm marrying tomorrow. Fae, this is Lorie." I reach my hand out for a shake and she pulls me into her arms for a spine-crushing hug instead. Yes, this will be a fast friendship indeed. I squeeze the woman back as hard as I can, but I simply don't have the muscles that she's earned over years of kneading dough.

"We hug in this family, babes," she says.

"I'm so happy to meet you, Lorie. Lazarus told me what a fabulous cook you are but he failed to mention this fabulous hair."

"What can I tell ya? He always does," she shrugs. The three of us share a laugh that makes my heart feel happy. "Listen, you kids go take a seat, alright? I'm juggling too much in here as it is, I can't screw up dessert." Lorie waves an old dishrag at us. "I never screw up dessert. We can group hug or somethin' later, go. I love ya." And with that, we're lovingly ushered into the dining room where my mom sits in wait. Still yawning. Still rubbing the crust from her eyes, too. I stifle a laugh at the sight and settle into the chair beside hers. Lazarus sits across from me.

"How'd you sleep, mom," I ask. She grumbles in response, nursing a cup of black coffee she must have bargained with Lorie for.

"Too good," she says. "Quiet now." So we have that in common, too.

It isn't long before Lorie comes striding into the room with a gorgeous apple pie in her hand and a proud smile etched on her face. We shower her with praise that she fiercely denies, but her sparkling eyes tell us she appreciates it. Only when everyone has filled their plates does Lorraine allow herself to sit beside Lazarus and enjoy the meal that she made. Always tirelessly caring for others first. I make a note to show her that she's cared for, too.

The food is spectacular. Every last, little morsel of it. Right down to the slow-churned, vanilla bean ice cream that I almost couldn't finish. Almost. However, I am quickly learning that you don't ever waste Lorie's food because it's made with love. And believe it or not, love doesn't come cheap.

We make light conversation throughout dinner. We talk about the weather, where we all grew up, and where we still want to go. But it seems like no one wants to talk about the wedding. Even I don't know what to say about it, so I opt to say nothing at all. Instead, I enjoy the last night I have as a single girl and forget all about tomorrow: the first night I'll have as a married woman.