Terror in Taffeta Read Free

ceremonies anymore. I looked around to see if there were any objections, other than my own to his antiquated question.
    My break came to an end all too soon. Father Villarreal pronounced them husband and wife and told Vince he could kiss the bride. I stretched my legs and wiggled my toes. Time to put my shoes back on. As I bent down to fish them out from under the pew, I heard a gasp.
    Uh-oh. Gasps are never good news.
    I shot out of my seat in time to see Dana lurch forward, holding her stomach. She looked like—no. Really? She looked like she was going to barf again, right there on the altar.
    Dana tried to steady herself by grabbing a tall bouquet of orchids, but to no avail. She pulled the vase down with her, causing a loud crash as they both hit the stone floor.
    â€œNo, no, no, no, no,” I whispered. “This cannot be happening.”
    I signaled to the mariachi quartet to start playing again as I rushed to the front of the church, ready to do whatever I could to minimize the damage.
    By the time I reached the front, Zoe and Nicole were crouched down next to Dana.
    â€œCome on, get up, ” Zoe demanded, shaking the bridesmaid’s limp body.
    â€œIt’s okay,” I whispered. “Go back to your spots.”
    A panicky feeling rose up in my chest. Dana must have been sicker than I’d realized. I had to think fast. Addressing the congregation, I announced in my most confident voice, “She’s fine, everyone.” I fanned her with a wedding program, which I hoped would make her magically spring back to her feet. “She just fainted.”
    Reading the pleading look in my eyes, Father Villarreal raised his hands, and his voice boomed across the sanctuary: “I now present to you Mr. and Mrs. Moreno.”
    On cue, the mariachis began playing the recessional, prompting Vince and Nicole to begin their uncertain walk back down the aisle, followed by two pairs of attendants. The remaining usher stood awkwardly, unsure what his role was now that he was devoid of anyone to ush. I shooed him down the aisle as I mouthed, “Go! Go!”
    The guests filed out, glancing back to see me hovering over Dana while trying my best to look upbeat. Once they were all safely outside, I felt Dana’s wrist. I couldn’t find anything, but then again, I wasn’t an experienced pulse taker.
    This could not be happening. I frantically felt up and down her forearm, but all I could feel was my own heart thudding in my chest.
    â€œDana, come on, wake up,” I said, shaking her slightly. She didn’t move.
    I lifted one of her eyelids, not sure what I was looking for, and was greeted with an empty gaze.
    Father Villarreal returned from closing the church doors with a questioning look on his face. “Enferma?”
    Stunned, I shook my head as I sank down onto the floor.
    â€œNo, I—I think she’s dead.”

 
    CHAPTER 2
    When it comes to weddings, there are emergencies, and then there are emergencies. Having a trio show up when you were expecting a quartet? Unfortunate, but salvageable. Finding out the bakery accidentally sent a Styrofoam dummy cake to the reception? Pretty disappointing, but still not an emergency. Wedding dress catching fire? Okay, I suppose that would be an emergency—but still nothing compared to what I was dealing with now.
    Because this was more than just an emergency. This was without a doubt the worst thing I’d ever had happen at a wedding. I mean, I’d thought through some pretty dire scenarios and figured out what I’d do—like if the bride got cold feet and bolted in the middle of the ceremony—but I could never have anticipated a tragedy like this.
    Father Villarreal had called the paramedics, and they’d arrived quickly. They worked at trying to revive Dana, but after several minutes of performing CPR, one of them looked up at Father Villarreal and shook his head, the universal sign for “I’m sorry,