This romantic story was published in My Weekly several years ago. 
                                                                                     

THE LOOK OF LOVE
 
It was a strange feeling: looking forward to a joyous occasion while at the same time feeling that her happiness wasn’t quite complete. The day was bound to be emotional, Sally told herself, but she couldn’t allow herself to forget this was Emma’s day.       
Putting the finishing touches to her make-up, her eyes inadvertently glanced across to the framed photograph standing behind perfume bottles on Emma’s dressing table.  Reaching over, she carefully picked it up for closer inspection. It was a picture of
Richard standing with his arm protectively around his daughter, a photo that must have been taken several years ago – probably from when Emma had flown out to visit him for the summer. Broad shouldered and tall, he was displaying that smile, the one that made the corners of his face crease up and those pale blue eyes to sparkle.             
     The bedroom door opened suddenly, causing the photo to nearly slip from her grasp as she turned round. Bleached fair hair, a bronzed face and crystal clear blue eyes shone back at her, her very own Robert Redford. Well that’s what her dear departed mother had said on first setting eyes upon him. Twenty-three years on and still her heart wanted to skip a beat. That smile she had loved so
much was missing today however, replaced by a heavy frown. His head remained around the doorway, the rest of his body not following.               
     “Sorry, I thought Em was in here, only the car is outside, Sally. Time to go.” He sounded awkward, his eyes not looking at her.            
     “She’s gone downstairs already and I was just coming. How are you anyway, Richard?”               
     “Fine and you?”               
     “Okay I guess,” Sally tried to manage a smile but it became sort of fixed. Why couldn’t she be honest and tell him she had been feeling pretty lonely of late. When he had left at least she’d had Emma - now she had no one. A deserted wife and mother. She returned to look in the mirror noticing his reflection hesitate for just a second - then he was gone.               
     Emma was being too optimistic if she thought that after fifteen years they could put the past behind them. This wedding had been in the planning for a year now and yet not once had they picked up the phone and spoke to each other. It had all been done through e-mail and Emma acting as go-between. She sighed and stood. There was no sense sitting around and moping about the past. Time to go.
          
     The ceremony was beautiful, Emma looking stunning in her flowing silk wedding dress adorned with tiny pearls. Fashions had come and gone but the dress had retained a timeless beauty of its own, and all despite Sally’s protests that the dress was unlucky, seeing as the future it represented hadn’t quite worked out for the first bride. Emma had told her that it wasn’t the fault of the dress, and having visited every bridal fair and shop, her daughter still couldn’t be swayed. There was only one dress she wanted to wear, the one which
had remained preserved in its special box at the top of Sally’s wardrobe, a dress she had never had the courage to sell of give to charity.               
     She couldn’t help the mixture of sadness and joy as she listened to them special vows being undertaken and remembered herself saying those same words. Had she and Richard looked at each other with the same kind of love she was witness to now? She had been younger than Emma was - just nineteen and still at
university - but at that age they both thought they knew so much better than their peers. Yes they had been so in love, nothing could take that certainty away from them.               
      Photographs came next, the sun beating down as they stood in arranged groups. Sally wondered whether her smile looked as superficial as it had felt when he stood by her. Richard seemed just as uncomfortable; he would occasionally throw her a cautionary glance and then just as quickly look away when she tried to establish eye contact. This was crazy; they were both fast approaching middle age and attending their own
daughter’s wedding, yet neither were mature enough to hold any kind of conversation.               
     The fact that he looked so good was also disheartening. Whereas she had put on several pounds and now had to dye her once rich auburn hair regularly to combat the grey, Richard apparently hadn’t aged at all. Why couldn’t he have grown fat and bald? Instead he looked so handsome, his warm tan and fashionable
cut hair complemented by his morning coat and grey striped trousers, the top hat tucked under his arm.               
     Her attention turned back to Emma, genuine pleasure displayed as bride and groom posed in front of the photographer on their own, the sadness for herself held back.               
     “Emma was right,” said a soft voice behind her. “The dress deserves to be worn again.”               
     Sally turned to see Richard. This time his clear azure eyes did not leave hers.               
     “And they look happy,” he went on.“Every bit as happy as we once were.”               
     She nodded. “They are older and wiser than we were, Richard. Hopefully they won’t give up on each other at the first sign of trouble. We both know there are highs and lows in all marriages.”Sally lowered her gaze, realising how sad and poignant those words sounded.               
     “Just as long as they have the strength and commitment to remember what brought them together in the first place, I’m sure they won’t repeat our mistakes.”  He reached out and gently squeezed Sally’s hand and smiled reassuringly.               
     The intimate display was enough for Sally to feel the tears welling up. Spotting an aunt who had travelled some distance to be here, gave her the chance to excuse herself before Richard discovered the full extent off her heartache.               
     The three-course dinner was in Sally’s mind another hurdle to overcome. Protocol had her seated at one end of the top table and Richard at the other. Every now and again she would catch Richard’s voice and long to be part of the conversation.               
     What kind of life did he have in Australia, she wondered, and thought about how he had turned his back on that when he had married her only to return to it as soon as they had parted.               
      At least he had never remarried; both of them it seemed unwilling to make the same mistake twice. She
quickly corrected her thinking; the only mistake they made was not fighting hard enough for their marriage. As for marrying someone else, having experienced love once she wasn’t willing to accept second best.               
     And now, as she listened to Richard’s speech praising her for bringing up a daughter they could both be so
proud of and for making this day such a special one, the tears rolled down her cheeks.               
     Emma was a constant reminder of what they had achieved - nothing could take that away.               
     Her moist eyes looked up just as Richard was seating himself back down and, for a moment, they seemed to convey the same message, their smiles bouncing of each other.               
     With the wedding feast over, it was time to mingle whilst the band set up its instruments. Sally did her part by making sure relatives and friends were well taken care of.               
     What she didn’t expect was for her to find herself standing next to Richard when the bride and groom were called up to lead the first dance. After the music had been playing for several minutes, Emma frantically motioned for her parents to join them.               
     Richard looked at Sally and gave a small shrug of his shoulders. “I think she’s left us with no choice.” He held out his hand expectantly. “May I?”               
     Sally saw no option but to offer her hand in return as he led her on to the dance floor. A thought flashed through her at what kind of picture they presented. The modern version of a divorced couple; best of friends, able to conduct themselves in a mature, unemotional way.               
     So why did she feel so hot and flustered?  She felt those familiar arms drawing her close to him, his warm breath upon her neck. No words were spoken, just the soft love melody playing in the background. Finally the song came to an end and Sally realised he had lead her to a corner of the dance floor that was shrouded
by darkness and away from the wedding guests.               
     It was then that the familiar warmth entered his eyes, the corners of his mouth lifting very lightly.               
     “Listen…It’s our song.”
     Doing as he said, she heard that distinctive voice, the ballad drifting across to where they stood. Their favourite artist performing their favourite song, and for a moment it sent them back in time, each with their own special memory.
     Students were meant to play the field - that was the rule - party all night and not get serious with anyone. Only with Richard and her, the reverse happened. Richard was so unlike other boys she had dated.
An Australian studying in England, who was handsome, sensitive and shy, not your usual stereotype of an Aussie at all.
     It had taken him six months to finally ask her out, before that, he had worshipped her from a distance. Well, that’s what he had told her anyway, and she wanted to believe it. Within a fortnight of dating
him she was totally besotted - and a year later they were married, without a penny between them.
     “I suppose we had better be getting back to the wedding guests before the gossip starts.” He smiled, his voice a little hesitant as if there was so much more he wanted to say.
     “Yes, I guess you’re right. Richard…” Sally stopped, uncertain now of her words. All she knew was that she would regret not saying them, possibly for the rest of her life.
     “Why did you…” Her bottom lip trembled, and she fought to compose herself. “Why did you leave so suddenly? It was meant to be a trial separation.”
     He looked at her for a moment, and then averted his gaze. “My father was ill and…well, Sally, I was never really happy living in England. Like you said we both gave up too easily. It was more convenient that way, if you see what I mean. You had accepted that teaching post and your parents needed you. I had always intended to return home only… I fell in love instead.” He turned and walked away, his proud head slightly bowed.               
     She had known that he had wanted to return to Australia when they had walked down that aisle together, but she had foolishly believed their love would conquer such homesickness. For a while, it had. After that, she stopped listening.               
     Richard went back over to the bar area and felt his daughter’s presence as she slipped a loving arm through his.               
     “I saw you speaking with Mum. The two of you looked so good together out on that dance floor.”               
     “You shouldn’t have been watching, not with that handsome fellow wrapped in your own arms.” He gave a small smile.               
     “I can’t help but worry over the two people who I care for and love deeply. Have you asked her, yet? Emma looked questioningly at her father, already aware of the answer.    
            
     Neither of them had heard Sally approach until they heard her voice behind them. “Asked me what, Richard?               
     He looked at Emma and then back at Sally and seemed to take a deep breath, the words coming out in a rush. “Emma tells me that you have decided to quit teaching for a while and plan to travel.”               
     He hesitated and felt Emma’s elbow prod his waist. “Saying that, I know of a certain Australian who would just love to have you come and visit.”               
     Sally smiled and held her hands out to Richard and Emma. “I might just take that offer up.”                
     The corners of his face creased up in that attractive smile of his and those blue eyes sparkled. 


                                                                                       THE END