“Time’s up,” Kristen called. “On the count of ten, I’m coming in.”
“It’s not something you have to decide right now. The only thing you have to decide is whether you still want to marry me.”
She smiled. “Absolutely. In about fifteen minutes, if I can get dressed that fast.” She turned her face toward him for another kiss and wrapped her arms around his neck.
“If you keep that up,” he said, “you’ll have to get married in your bathrobe.”
“Ready or not,” Kristen called, “here I—”
James stepped back and swung the door open. Kristen, hand firmly on the knob, stumbled headlong into the room.
“You ladies should really think about hurrying. The ceremony starts in twelve minutes,” he added over his shoulder as he left.
Kristen let out a huff of exasperation.
“Don’t worry about it,” Eleanor said. “I’ve always been a fast dresser.”
“Take your time,” Kristen said. She, of course, had been dressed in her light turquoise maid of honor outfit for at least an hour. “It’s not every day you get married, and it’s not like they can start without you.”
Exactly nine minutes later, Eleanor started down the main stairway. Her cream silk dress was made in the empire style, cut full in the back, even though there wasn’t a train. Thin blue satin ribbons were interwoven through the lace edging on her small puffed sleeves. The long veil that she had draped over her arm was designed to pool behind her, thus allowing the butterfly pattern of the lace to be visible against the sunny yellow runner she’d chosen. The only jewelry she wore was her engagement ring, the tiny diamond stud earrings James had given her on the anniversary of their first date, and, of course, her amber cross necklace.
Her father waited below to escort her to the garden and walk her down the aisle. He looked quite handsome and slightly uncomfortable in his Regency attire.
“You are the most beautiful bride I have ever seen,” he said. “Your mother would have been so proud of you.”
She gave him a hug while she blinked away a tear.
At the arbor that marked the beginning of the garden path, they paused for Kristen to arrange the long veil behind her. The wedding planner handed them their bouquets and started Kristen down the aisle.
While they waited for the bridal march to start, Dad said, “This is the moment every father fears from the moment his daughter is born. I guess I’m supposed to say something wise, but …” He patted her hand and swallowed. “I’ll drive the getaway car if you want to ditch this shindig. It’s not too late.”
“Dad! I love James and want to marry him more than anything else in the world.”
“Good. I just wanted you to know you had an option. I support whatever decision you make.”
“That’s the sweetest, most loving thing you could have said.” She kissed his cheek. “You are a wise man.”
“Are you ready?”
“Yes.” As she said it she suddenly felt nervous, not for what she was doing, but the how. Would she get down the aisle without tripping and falling? Would she get the words out without stuttering or mixing them up?
Then she looked up and saw James. The love that shone from his eyes made her feel as though she could do anything, even fly, if he were by her side.
The chairs had been set up facing a flower-covered arbor on the western boundary, and as they said I do, the sunset painted the sky glorious colors. The guests had been instructed to open their small white boxes as the new Mr. and Mrs. James B. Wright walked up the aisle. A cloud of yellow butterflies, their transformation from caterpillars scientifically timed to the day and hour, took flight and swirled around them.
The reception seemed a bit surreal to Eleanor. The disparate pieces of her life came together. Family, school friends, coworkers from various jobs, and new neighbors mixed with people from James’s life, some of whom she’d met and others who were complete strangers.
A great number of the guests had gotten into the spirit of the theme and availed themselves of her veritable warehouse of Regency costumes, many from movie productions. At times it felt as if she’d traveled back in time again. Several times she even thought that she caught a glimpse of Deirdre and Mina out of the corner of her eye.
She endured comments that ranged from her great aunt saying, “We’d just about given up on you ever getting married,” to her newest employee’s gushing appreciation for the invitation, the paid time off, the trip, and the job. If Kristen hadn’t rescued her, the new seamstress would have gone on to name who knew what, the air they breathed? The whole experience of so many people at once was a bit nerve-racking and a little exhausting.
Dinner, served in two tents on the south lawn, was a blur. She just pushed her food around on the plate. She’d opted not to have a huge wedding cake in keeping with her theme. The dessert function was fulfilled by an assortment of sweets and fruits served buffet-style in the dining room. Finally it came time for her first dance with her husband.
He escorted her to the center of the ballroom and bowed formally. She curtsied and stepped into his arms.
“What’s the matter?” he whispered as he led her in wide sweeping turns.
“When I wanted everyone to share my happiness, I didn’t realize how overwhelming three hundred and fifty guests can be. How do you remain so cool and calm?”
“I’ve been to balls Prinny gave at the palace with two thousand five hundred guests.”
The remark was so Lord Shermont, she had to smile.
“That’s better. The sun is shining again.”
“It’s night. The moon is already out.”
“Is it? I can’t tell. You are the sun and the moon to me.”
“I wonder how the new flowers look in the moonlight?” The garden had been her idea, something she had supervised while he was busy with the architect and contractor.
He raised an eyebrow. “Quite suddenly I find the subject of gardens fascinating. Shall we continue this conversation outside?” He looked over her head at the other couples who had joined them on the dance floor. With deft moves, he swept her across the room and out the door to the terrace. Hand in hand they ran down the steps and up the white shell path to the moonlight garden.
James rolled to his back and cuddled Eleanor to his side. He looked forward to their little chats, something he once would have thought impossible.
She crossed her hands on his chest and propped her chin on her hands. But she was silent.
“I can see the wheels turning,” he said, tapping her forehead. “What’s on your mind, Mrs. Wright?”
“Mmmm, I like the sound of that.” She snuggled closer. “Actually, I was thinking about that key.”
He groaned. “I knew it. You want to go check it out, don’t you? It’s two-thirty in the morning. We really should get some sleep. We’re leaving in a few hours on our honeymoon.”
“And where are we going, Mr. It’s-my-prerogative-to-surprise-you?”
“I’ve kept you in suspense long enough. I’ve rented an island, a small island in the Caribbean. We will be totally alone. No students, no employees, no cell phones or email. Just you, me, and a well-stocked bar and refrigerator.”
“Sounds lovely. Ah … no restaurant? Then I hope it comes with a cook.”
“How can we be alone if … you mean you can’t cook?”
“Never learned. My mother died when I was young, and my grandmother pretty much raised me. She was a lousy cook, preferred restaurants, and thought the microwave was among the top ten inventions of all time, right up there with the wheel and sliced bread. She taught me the art of ordering takeout.”
“There’s an art to it?”
“Sure. There’s no second chance for the sweet and sour sauce or extra Parmesan cheese you forgot to order. No waiter to bring you butter or sour cream for the baked potato. If you order from the same place on a regular basis, say Thai on Tuesday, you’re likely to get the same delivery person. If you tip well, you get faster service, and they might throw in an order of buffalo wings or cheese sticks for free.”
