The next day they were up early. “You call me if you need to,” Marie whispered into his ear as he drank coffee at the kitchen table. He nodded, and didn’t talk, but he pulled her in for a kiss. He tasted of coffee and sugar. She looked into his eyes, reassurance flowing between them, and she kissed him again, passionately, hand on the side of his face, before leaving with Mariah.

“Thanks a lot for going shopping with me. Since my own mom is out of the picture it means a lot to me.”

“Oh honey you’re welcome.” Mariah felt a surge of guilt for being petty. Here she was resenting Marie for having Logan, when after all these years she finally had him too. But Marie didn’t have her mother, likely never would. She was quiet the rest of the way to the first bridal boutique, which fortunately wasn’t long.

Marie didn’t like anything there. The shop and the elderly woman who ran it both smelled of dust. She didn’t even try anything on, and they tried the next shop.

Marie had a folder full of magazine clippings showing dresses she liked. She showed the saleswoman her pictures and told her what her price range was.

“Never mind the price range,” Mariah said, once the saleslady was gone. “This is my wedding present to you.”

“You don’t have to-”

“I want to. So get what you want.” Marie recognized the firm tone of Mariah’s voice. There would be no arguing.

“Thank you.” She grinned and gave Mariah a quick hug.

The first dress was close, spaghetti straps and a full tulle skirt, but it wasn’t right on her somehow. She stood up on the stool in front of the three-way mirror, Mariah fussing.

“What do you think?” Marie asked, turning left and right, trying to figure out what about the dress wasn’t right.

“I don’t like it.”

“Me neither.”

.

Logan sat down with a second cup of coffee, and pulled the photo albums over to him. He started with the one of him as a baby. Looked perplexed at the little peanut, then at the others that he hadn't had time to look at yesterday.

He stared for a long time at the photo of him and Per-Andrew, full of emotions, trying to isolate the reason why he‘d gone running yesterday. Because what he felt was mostly happiness, blinding happiness at finding that he was a real person, with a real history, and not an animal, but a man who was once a baby on his father’s knee. But there was anger, that they had taken this from him, and hurt, that he couldn’t remember anything of it. The fact that he was now a real person brought home the world of hurt from having nothing all these years, and that was why he had gone running. He understood this now and in Mariah’s sunlit kitchen he grasped the enormity of it, mourned it, came to his peace with it.

He kept flipping through the pages. There was a birthday cake with a one on it. Jimmy was there, with Marisol, and Enrique was only a year or so older than he was, and inexplicably thin.

As he turned the pages the pictures were in color and the baby grew older and older. A Christmas with presents, a second birthday, a third. Even at that age his hair was impossibly unruly and pointing in a billion directions. This made him smile. First day of school, he was about Maggie’s age. At the Grand Canyon.

The first book ended with his fifth birthday party. He opened the second which took over where that left off and started picking out mannerisms that he still had. His stance, the quirk of his smile.

In a lot of the pictures was a boy his age. The same boy. He flipped the photo over and it said Logan and Toby, 7yo. He appeared to be his best friend.

He had been a Boy Scout. He laughed loudly in the quiet house and vowed to make sure Cyke saw this picture.

There were a lot of pictures with horses. He’d always wondered why he knew how to ride. Now he knew. The horse pictures started when he was ten, according to the writing on the back. He recognized his carriage as a precursor to the way he carried himself as an adult. He was tan and grinning.

Logan realized that he was smiling.

.

She tried on the next dress. Marie gasped when she emerged from the fitting room and stepped up onto the stool. It had a tight beaded ornate bodice and sexy low V back. The skirt was full and romantic, with a dusting of opalescent crystals near the hemline.

The saleswoman was fluttering around them, complimenting her, saying it fit her perfectly and didn’t need alterations, fussing with the folds of the skirt. Marie heard none of it. She was twisting and turning in the mirror. The saleswoman pinned a veil onto her hair. She felt like a real woman, a princess, an émigré from a fairy tale.

The woman came back with a pair of ivory gloves.

“No gloves,” she and Mariah said simultaneously, forcefully.

“All right,” the saleslady blinked and went to return the gloves.

“This is it,” Marie said quietly to Mariah. “Don’t let on. Follow my lead.”

The sales woman came back with another veil. It was dusted with crystals in much the same way as her dress. “This matches the dress.”

Marie twisted and turned. “I dunno though. I’m not sure if I like the dress.” She pulled up the outer flounce of the skirt. “See the way this beading is loose?” In reality the thread was nylon and sturdy and if she wanted she could easily sew it herself.

“Oh, we can easily alter that.”

“No, I’m from out of town and was hoping to take a dress as-is.”

“I see,” said the sales lady. “Well, how about I knock fifty dollars off the price for you.”

Rogue twisted and turned, frowning, hiding her excitement well. “I don’t know.”

“This thread here is loose,” Mariah said, pointing out the single thread in the whole dress that was not well-sewn.

“Okay, how about I take off another twenty-five?”

“Throw in the veil and you’ve got a deal.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t do that. But the veil is on sale.”

“Okay,” Marie said. “Deal.”

Afterward, when they were walking down the street with the billowing dress in a garment bag, Mariah laughed. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Hey, seventy-five bucks is seventy-five bucks. You can put it toward airfare.”

“You never cease to surprise me, Marie.”

Marie laughed and twirled gaily in circles. “I love my wedding dress,” she sang. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.”

“Now I need shoes.”

After going shoe shopping they went to lunch and Marie ducked outside and called Logan.

“Hello?”

“Hey love.”

“Hi darlin’. What’s up?”

“You saint of a mother just brought me the most beautiful sexy stunning wedding dress and you are gonna faint when you see me in it.”

“I can’t wait.”

“You’ll have to. But I will tell you that it is gorgeous.”

“Tease.”

“Yep. What are you doing?”

“Painting.”

“Yeah? Did you look at pictures?”

“Yeah. I don’t remember a damn thing.”

“Too bad. You okay, love?”

“Yeah, I’m good. I love you.”

“Me too. We’re getting lunch - you want anything?”

“Naw, I just had some leftover chili.”

“Okay sugar. We’re gonna look at jewelry and we’ll be back.”

“I’ll be here.”

“I love you Logan.”

“I love you Marie,” he mimicked softly. “Bye.”

“Bye.” She hung up and felt so happy, so wonderful.

That night after Mariah went to bed Logan and Marie sat on the deck drinking Coronas. He was leaning back on a chaise and she was sitting in front of him, between his legs.

He sipped his beer and wrapped his arms around her. “Love you.”

“Me too,” she said softly. “How was your day?”

“It was good. Wanna hear somethin' funny?”

"Always."

"Cyke's gonna shit himself. I found a picture of myself in a Boy Scout uniform."

She almost spit out her beer. "That is funny."

“I thought so.”

He was quiet. The moon was full and fat.

“I can‘t believe we‘re getting married.”

“I know.”

“Let me see the dress.”

“No.”

“Please.”

“No.”

“Please.”

“Nope, it‘s bad luck.”

“That’s just a superstition.”

“Shut up, Bub.”

He tickled her, and when she yelped with laughter, he pressed his hand over her mouth.

“Let’s go to bed.”

The next day Logan and Mariah went into Santa Fe and Marie stayed back to study. She wanted to give Logan time alone with her, and also she needed to catch up on work she had missed during the Hoboken fiasco.

In the sun the paint of Mariah‘s portrait had dried quickly, and he put some finishing touches on it before they left. It was amazing.

They arrived home and had several days to themselves before Maggie returned. They made the most of them, making love in every room of the apartment. They walked around naked and went on long rides on Logan’s bike.

With Logan’s permission Mariah took the portrait to a friend’s gallery in Taos. The gallery owner called Logan the next day, wanting to sell the painting in her gallery. “You’ll have to take that up with my mother,” he said. Mariah was loath to sell it.

Dinah talked Logan into sending some photos of his work. He agreed, but of the ones he wanted people to see there weren’t enough for a show. Finally they agreed that he would give her the first crack at his work, and would have a one-man show in a year or so, and left it at that.