Inconceivable! Page 15

  “I suppose you’re right.”

  He walked me over to the bed with its blankets and sheets peeled back. After he helped me up onto the high mattress, I handed him a little box.

  “Merry Christmas,” I said as he opened it and picked up the piece of canvas. “I know this is cheesy, but I wanted you to have something from America that also honored your mother’s memory.”

  John held the micro painting close to his eyes. “Where did you find this?”

  “My mother bought it from a Toulenian artist living in Missouri. After your mother died, this artist did a series of paintings to honor her. My mom bought one, but never had it framed. I asked her to send it to me so I could give it to you for Christmas.”

  “Thank you. I’ve never seen this painting. It’s extraordinary.”

  His mother died December 26, 1998 when John was nine and I was seven. He lightly rubbed the painted fabric of his mother’s face with his thumb. I suppose enough time had passed to smooth over the rough edges of his grief.

  He set the square of canvas on the dresser, turned off the light, and got into bed.

  As my legs glided between the sheets, it felt cool and summery, even though winter reigned outside. I hoped it would always feel this good being in bed with John. We pulled the layers of covers over us and snuggled into each other as dull light seeped into the room around the edges of the heavy drapes.

  “Hatty, you fill a hole in my heart that opened up when Mum died. I love you for that.” He nuzzled my neck.

  “Have I told you how much your mother meant to me?”

  He stopped and propped his head up on his hand. “No. Please tell me.”

  “Okay. Well, it was the beginning of first grade. I was six years old. My teacher asked us to make a collage using photos of someone we admired, and I chose Princess Beatrix. I’d seen pictures of her helping children in Africa in some of my mom’s magazines. I cut them out for my project and glued them to a big pink poster board. She was so beautiful, stylish, and smart. But above all, I imagined she was compassionate.”

  “I think you’ll follow perfectly in her footsteps as my wife and mother to our children.” He kissed me on the forehead. “I wish you could’ve met her. She would’ve loved you.”

  John lay down and I placed my head on his chest. We soon fell asleep.

  he day after Christmas, my parents arrived at Toulene International Airport on the very runway John helped christen a few months earlier. I met them at the arrivals gate with open arms and tears.

  “Hatty! You look wonderful!” Mom was as effusive as ever in complimenting me.

  Dad gave me a big hug, briefly lifting my feet off the ground. “Don’t they feed you over here?”

  “A little too much. You’ll see. Belvoir has an amazing kitchen staff.”

  We walked out the front doors to a black limo idling at the curb in front of a Do Not Park sign.

  “Is this really necessary, honey?” My mom handed over her suitcase handle to the driver.

  “No. But John insisted on sending this monstrosity instead of one of the cars. He wants you to travel first class all the way to the palace.”

  “Well, he sure didn’t put us in the cheap seats on the plane,” my dad said. “But you still feel the turbulence in first class, so your mother was a Nervous Nelly the whole way.”

  During the drive to Belvoir, I pointed out some of the city’s sights.

  When the black limo swung into the side gate at the palace, my mom gasped. “This place doesn’t look real.”

  “Isn’t it wild?” My giddiness burst through every word.

  Astrid met us at the door, and led us upstairs to a bedroom two doors down from mine.

  “Thanks, Astrid.” I turned to my parents. “John thought you guys might want some time to relax. I’ll be back in a couple of hours and we can walk downstairs together for dinner. It’s completely casual so don’t get dressed up. I can’t believe you’re actually here!”

  I hugged them again and left. My parents were at Belvoir Palace in Toulene to meet my future husband who also happens to be the future king of this country. Their grandchildren would inherit the throne one day. That’s crazy, ya’ll!

  When we arrived in the breakfast nook, John extended his hand to my parents. “Mr. and Mrs. Brunelle, it’s very nice to meet you!”

  My mom went in for a hug. “You’re much cuter in person!”

  I laughed. “I told him the same thing.”

  My dad shook John’s hand. “Nice to meet you. I hope we’re not a royal pain in the ass!” Yep, there it was, that Brunelle compulsion to use corny jokes and puns to lighten the mood. It must literally be in our genes. My dad’s belly laugh probably startled the staff.

  During the meal, John told my parents about the things we’d done at the palace the last few weeks. He also peppered them with questions about their lives, our family, and the Ozarks.

  After the staff placed dishes of fresh fruit on the table for dessert, John cleared his throat. “Mr. and Mrs. Brunelle, I’ve fallen in love with your daughter.” He took my hand in his and kissed the back of it. “With your blessing, I’d like to marry Hatty. I promise I’ll love and protect her our whole lives.”

  I froze a smile on my face and spoke quietly through clenched teeth, hoping my parents wouldn’t hear. “I thought we were going to wait to tell my parents at Winter’s Feast.”

  John answered through his teeth as well. “But I need to ask your parents’ permission.”

  Mom and Dad showed no signs of shock at the news―they probably figured things were serious if John was willing to fly them across the ocean―but John had caught them off guard. The silence grew long and awkward.

  Then Dad spoke up. “Someday, John, you’ll have a daughter. And you’ll understand how difficult it is to think about her belonging to someone else, especially when that someone lives on the other side of the planet.”

  “I don’t belong to anyone!” I said a little too loudly. “Don’t talk about me like I’m not in the room.”

  “Yes, George, she’s not chattel. Crawl out of the Dark Ages. You, too, Hatty. I mean, what happens to your career if you get married?” Cue mom’s theme music because she was here to save the day. She might even need a cape.

  “Mom, John’s helping me meet some important people in my field, and there are some exciting possibilities on the horizon. My journalism career is still very important to me.”

  “What do you mean?” John jumped in, also raising his voice. “You agreed you were done with reporting.” Time for John’s teeth clenching.

  I glared right back at him. “Reporting, yes. Journalism, no.”

  “Wait just a minute. You’re done with reporting? I don’t think so,” my mom said in disbelief, making her I-have-no-words huffing sound.

  “Look. John and I love each other. I’m the happiest I’ve ever been in my life. He’s an honorable man with honorable intentions. I’ll finish my degree, eventually. We’ll see what happens after that. Please just be happy for us.” Get your shit together, Brunelles!

  “Hatty, of course we love you and if this is what you want, we support you completely. John, welcome to our family.” Thank God for my dad and his ability to diffuse the tensest situations, a skill he’d honed during his years in the ER.

  Mom kept her arms crossed, needing time to cool off.

  “John, I think my parents have had a very long day.” Hint, hint.

  “Yes, of course. I’m sorry to spring all of this on you at a time when you’re likely exhausted.”

  “Sleep sounds good.” It was all my mom managed to say. She looked pissed, haggard.

  And to think, they’d only met John. Couldn’t wait to see how they’d mesh with his family.

  he statement was ready to go. The palace public affairs office drafted three sentences announcing our engagement, and John and I gave our blessing. I dreaded the coming media frenzy. The palace staff planned to email reporters at midnight, several hours after we shared
our big news with family and friends during Winter’s Feast.

  All of that was hours away. I sat at the breakfast table with John, my parents, and my inner circle. Mom and Dad sipped coffee, still battling jet lag while Plato, Sam, Tilda, and Sara chattered about the palace and the evening’s festivities. Seeing so many people I loved sitting around one table warmed my heart. I wanted to bottle up the moment and hold on to it forever.

  “John, will you introduce me to your cousin from Germany?” Sara asked between bites of muffin.

  “Of course. But I should warn you. Gerhard doesn’t like to dance.”

  “We’ll see about that.” Her eyes smoldered, ready to slay a German count with a single glance.

  After breakfast, John arranged for a driver to take my parents to one of the biggest shopping centers in Europe. It was fifteen minutes from the palace, depending on traffic. My dad forgot to pack dress shoes for the suit he planned to wear to Winter’s Feast.

  While my parents handled their fashion emergency, John and I took my friends on a tour of the palace grounds. This was John’s first opportunity to spend any significant amount of time with them. Except Plato. They saw each other at regular poker games.

  It was just after 1:00 p.m. when John said, “We’ll have lunch delivered to our rooms so we can begin getting ready for this evening. Shall we head back inside?”

  Sara pulled my arm and held me back as the others walked ahead of us.

  “Do you think I have a shot at one of his cousins?” Sara was a party girl, game to do anything and anyone.

  “Sure. Why not?”

  “I hope so because I need to bag a nob. A girl could get used to this kind of royal treatment.”

  My hair sat in a messy bun on my head, and I wore glasses instead of contacts. Tilda and Sara helped me into the black mermaid dress Mathias had sent to Belvoir. Their eyes were large and unblinking when I pulled it up.

  “Zip me?”

  Tilda nodded and moved behind me to secure the dress. “Hatty. This is absolutely gorgeous. John’s going to propose to you on the spot.” Oh, Tilda, if you only knew!

  “This is, by far, the nicest dress I’ve ever worn. I have to admit, I kind of like it. Am I betraying my nerdy-girl roots?”

  “No,” Tilda said, looking me up and down. I adjusted the position of my glasses; I hadn’t yet put in my contacts. “You’re a nerdy fashionista―a nerdista!”

  “I love it! But I’m definitely not wearing my specs downstairs.”

  Tilda slipped into a classic gown in navy with a fitted bodice and flowing taffeta skirt. Sara’s short, tight dress showed her legs that wouldn’t quit.

  “Am I slut-errific or what?”

  “If I say yes, is that a compliment?” I handed Sara her lipstick.

  “Oh yeah.”

  When we descended the stairs at 5:30 p.m., about fifty people stood in groups around the grand foyer. John came over to us right away with Sam and Plato on his heels.

  “Hatty. You’re simply radiant.” John kissed my cheek, then whispered in my ear, “I want to peel that dress off and have my way with you.”

  My eyes widened and I laughed lightly, suppressing my body’s urge to writhe with desire.

  We left my friends by the stairs and John took me around for a meet-and-greet. I recognized some of the faces from Sanssouci, but most were new, a who’s who of European royalty and old money. The high ceiling in the foyer did nothing to dissipate the cloud of cologne and perfume that hung over the gathering. My eyes watered from the aromatic barrage as John led me to a group of twenty-somethings.

  “Hatty, this is Percy and Jos. We played together at Cambridge.”

  A shot of nerves threatened my composure as I shook hands with international rugby star Jos de Haven. He was kind of a big deal. Though his nose sat crooked, it didn’t diminish his dashing good looks.

  “Nice to meet you both. I know Jos still plays, but how about you, Percy?”

  “I traded the field for the court. I’m a solicitor now.”

  “I’d like to get both of these guys back in the game,” Jos said, grabbing John’s shoulder roughly. “I’m thinking about putting together a celebrity match for charity. People would pay a lot to see the prince and one of the country’s top solicitors get the snot knocked out of them. Don’t you agree, Hatty?”

  No. Blinking. Way. The thought of John participating in such a brutal game against professional players made me cringe.

  As John, Jos, and Percy reminisced, I caught a brief glimpse of my parents. They were in deep conversation with a couple I recognized from Sanssouci. John had assured me Aunt Elinore would introduce them to other couples, and ensure they didn’t end up standing alone.

  Herr Schroeder sounded the gong, interrupting conversations to signal it was time for dinner. There were tables set up all around the Regents Room. To my surprise, several wall panels were gone so that the room was nearly double its usual size.

  As we took our assigned seats, the queen stood and rang a small bell to quiet the massive room. “Please join me in raising a glass to get our celebration underway. In the scarcity of winter, may we celebrate our bounty. Winter’s Feast reminds us even though the land looks barren, the potential for life sleeps just below the surface. Fill your stomachs with food and your hearts with hope!”

  The crowd responded with a loud and unified, “Prost!” as they observed the customary opening toast.

  I lifted my plate and removed a glossy brochure. It outlined the many courses we’d enjoy throughout the evening. There were vignettes and photos featuring the farmers who produced what we were about to eat.

  The meal consisted of bite-sized samples of food from farms across Europe. At first, I was taken aback by the tiny portions, but the sheer quantity and variety of food helped the dinner live up to its moniker. From dainty micro-salads to fruit samples to petite meats, the courses kept coming.

  John leaned over between courses. “Don’t you love this? Farmers competed fiercely to earn a spot on your plate tonight.”

  “Talk about the cream of the crop!” Snort, snort.

  “Well done, Hatty! You’re a scream.” Pru lightly smacked my arm. She appreciated my wonky sense of humor. Her boyfriend Lucas, a sandy-haired Aussie with rugged features, didn’t react to my lame attempt at being punny. His eyelids were heavy from lingering jetlag.

  As the courses changed from meat to sweet, Leopold Meinrad stood and rang the small bell.

  “We have an announcement to make this evening, and I’m happy so many of our dearest friends and family are under one roof to hear our news. John?”

  My heart nearly sprang out of my chest as John prepared to announce our engagement. I reached into the small sachet I was using for a purse and slipped the sparkling diamond onto my right ring finger.

  “Friends, thank you for being here. In life, there are only a few things I’ve absolutely had to get right: math on the exit exam, the winning play in my last rugby match, and the choice of a partner who will help me build the future of my family and this country.”

  Someone nearby sucked in a quick breath.

  John continued. “Even though I didn’t get the first two quite right, I know I’ve succeeded with the third. It’s with extraordinary happiness I introduce to you my future wife, Hatty Brunelle of the United States of America.”

  Before I scooted my chair back and stood, the room erupted in applause. And I heard other chairs scooting. As I rose to my feet, so did everyone else.

  In an instant, the people we loved most in the world surrounded us: his brother and aunt, my parents (at last, looking elated), Tilda, Plato, Sam, and Sarah. In all the hugs, clapping, and wiping of tears, I didn’t see the queen. What was her reaction? I turned and looked in her direction. There she stood at her table, smiling in approval. John and I left the hubbub to go to her. She took both of my hands in hers.

  “My dear. I have only one piece of advice: make your own happiness. You’ll do just fine.” She cradled my cheek in
her hand before opening her arms to officially welcome me into the family.

  After our announcement, the staff brought out flutes of golden, bubbly goodness. The happy hum of excited conversations, laughter, and glasses clinking floated through the hall. The conclusion of the meal brought no fewer than six dessert courses. After the waiters served the last dish, people began making their way out of the Regents Room.

  I turned to John. “Where’s everyone going?”

  “To the grand ballroom. The after-party is just as amazing as the meal.”

  We lingered in the Regents Room, accepting congratulations as some of the guests formed an impromptu receiving line. Astrid slipped behind us and gave us cups of coffee, made slightly sweet by the whipped cream dollop floating on top. What I really needed was an IV with caffeine drip. Stat.

  We headed to the hallway, the promise of karaoke luring us toward the ballroom.

  “Hey. I need to stop in the restroom. You go ahead. I’ll meet you in there.” I let John’s hand slip from mine.

  “I’ll wait for you.”

  “No. Go. People want to talk to you, Mr. Prince-man.”

  “And you. You’re like a breath of spring at our Winter’s Feast.” Melt.

  He left and I slipped into the bathroom. As soon as I sat down in the first stall, the door to the hallway banged open.

  “Adela! I’m sorry, okay? I’m such an ass.”

  I sat motionless on the toilet as complete silence followed Henri’s outburst. I saw his black shiny shoes outside the stall.

  “Umm, it’s Hatty.”

  Henri exhaled loudly and banged the stall door. I jumped up at the sudden noise and used the opportunity to get my clothes back in place. I pushed the door open and we were almost nose to nose. I gently put my fingertips on his chest and pushed him away.

  “Sit,” I commanded.

  “Fine.” He spoke heavily, flopping into a chair by the full-length mirror near the sinks.

  I washed my hands and walked over to my soon-to-be brother-in-law. “What’s up, Buttercup?”