giggled as she had to do a fast step to grab the small ribbon-tied roses. Then she smiled back and returned his little wave.
Harvey poked him in the ribs. “Who is that angel wot’s sashshaying down the aisle flingin’ rose petals about and eyin’ ye?”
“That’s Miss Carrick, the bridesmaid to Miss Breckenridge, the bride,” Jason said. “She is rather flinging the rose petals about, rather than gracefully strewing them, isn’t she?”
“Lawks,” said Harvey, his voice loud and crystal clear over the organ music, “she could dump ’em out o’ a bucket right on me ’ead. Ain’t she jest purtier than the sun shinin’ down on a puddle of clean water in Watt’s alley? I wants to marry the angel when I grows up.”
“No you don’t, Harvey. Trust me. She’s no angel. She’d chew your ears for breakfast.” He took the little boy’s hand and drew him closer. There were smiles and some laughter following Harvey ’s announcement. Harvey opened his mouth, but Jason, well practiced with the Wyndham children, said quickly, “I want you to count the hairs you can see on my arm until you’ve got them all.”
“There ain’t many showin’,” Harvey said, “an’ that’s good ’cause I can only counts to four.” That was too bad, Jason thought. Four-year-old Alice Wyndham could count to fifty-one. At least Harvey counted with great precision. It kept him quiet for about twenty seconds. Jason looked down the bench at his uncle Ryder, who’d just kissed a child’s head. He was nodding at Jason, smiling. Since his uncle Ryder had been a very young man of twenty, he’d been taking in abandoned children or rescuing them from drunken parents or sadistic masters. It was his aunt Sinjun who’d started calling his children the Beloved Ones.
Jason lifted the fidgeting Harvey onto his left leg, and thankfully soon felt the small body collapse back against his chest. Jason managed for the most part to keep his eyes on his cousin Leo Sherbrooke as he stood tall and proud opposite a heavily veiled girl who was, evidently, Melissa Breckenridge. She didn’t leap on Leo, at least until her new father-in-law, Reverend Tysen Sherbrooke told her, a wonderful smile on his face, that the bride could kiss the groom.
At the reception following the ceremony, guests overflowed the vicarage into the lovely vicarage gardens. Reverend Sherbrooke was heard to bless God for delivering up this magnificent sunny day a good dozen times. After three toasts of the excellent champagne provided by the earl of Northcliffe, Tysen cleared his throat to draw everyone’s attention. Unfortunately at that particular moment, one of the children shouted, “I have to go behind that bush!” which had everyone dissolving into laughter. Tysen tried again. “My wife has informed me that to keep us all from becoming drunk as loons, eating and dancing is required. The countess of Northcliffe has consented to play if all the young men will assist in clearing space in the drawing room.”
Within four minutes, Alexandra had struck up a lilting waltz with Leo leading his bride to the center of the floor. Jason turned when he heard the catch of a breath. He saw his uncle Tysen staring at Leo, shaking his head in bewilderment, probably because his son was actually now married. He had one arm around Rory’s shoulders, all of nineteen, a student at Oxford, nearly a man grown. So many changes, Jason thought, all the cousins getting married, producing the next generation.
He watched his brother lead Corrie onto the floor, the twins in their grandfather’s arms, waving wildly toward their parents. His cousin Max, Uncle Tysen’s eldest son, gave his hand to a young woman Jason hadn’t seen before. He looked down to see Harvey tugging on his trouser leg. “I wants to dance wit’ the angel.”
“You can’t. The angel is dancing with my cousin Grayson, who’s probably telling her a ghost story. Why don’t you and I show this group how to waltz properly?” Jason lifted Harvey in his arms and began to waltz him around the perimeter of the room in great dipping steps. One of the twins shouted, “Uncle Jason, I want to waltz with you!”
Jason laughed, called back, “Dance with your grandfather.” From the corner of his eye, he saw his father, holding a twin in each arm, swing into the waltz, sweeping around the room, not six feet behind Jason and Harvey. Laughter flowed as freely as champagne. Adults and children waltzed. All in all, it was a fine afternoon, Melissa’s family mixing well with all the Sherbrookes.
An hour later, Jason was seated on a swing in the vicarage gardens, his right foot lazily pushing off every now and again to keep the swing moving in a nice smooth glide. Harvey, stuffed to the gills, exhausted from dancing, was sprawled on his lap, his head against Jason’s chest. A female voice said quietly from behind him, “I don’t expect you to congratulate me, but I suppose since I did have the lead in our competition, I should tell you that you probably ran a fine race. However, truth be told, I don’t know what you did. You could have simply sat in a ditch and given up, for all I know. Also, you didn’t ask me to waltz. I believe every single male at the wedding asked me to waltz. All save you. Surely that doesn’t bespeak a gracious loser, and I had high hopes for you after that smile and little wave at the ceremony.”
Jason, who didn’t want to disturb Harvey, didn’t turn, and said toward the graveyard beyond the far garden wall, “I always run a fine race, Miss Carrick. I usually win except when it is against Jessie Wyndham. I kept encouraging her to eat so she would gain flesh, but it never happened. She laughed at me.”
Hallie laughed herself, walked around the swing and stood there, eyeing the beautiful man holding the boneless little boy who had chocolate smeared on his mouth. She said, “I watched Jessie race for as long as I can remember. She’s a killer, is Jessie.” She paused, frowned down at the sleeping Harvey. “He’s too thin.”
“Yes, a bit. That will change. My uncle Ryder bought him two months ago from a factory owner in Manchester. He was working fourteen hours a day, fixing machines that knotted thread.”
“I heard Melissa’s parents speaking about your uncle Ryder and all the children he’s taken in over the years. They couldn’t quite come to grips with it.”
“And you, Miss Carrick? What do you think of the Beloved Ones?”
“That’s a lovely name for them. Actually, I’ve never seen such magic as your uncle has for the children, except perhaps for you. They want to crawl all over him. It’s amazing. Did you see all of Melissa’s relatives waltzing with the children? I don’t think Mellie’s father has danced in thirty years, yet he was carrying about a little girl no more than seven. So much laughter today. Quite amazing, really. You wouldn’t see that in London, perhaps even in Baltimore. It would be all adults trying to act superior and eyeing each other’s jewelry. How many children has he taken in?”
“I don’t know. You will have to ask him or my aunt Sophie. There are usually fifteen or so children in residence at any given time.”
“I think he is a very good man. He sees and he acts. Not many people do.”
“No, not many do. So, we have another man of which you must approve. The list is growing, Miss Carrick.”
She struggled a moment, kept quiet, and reached out her hand to give the swing a shove. Harvey snorted in his sleep. “Yet again I’ve left you speechless.”
“Aren’t you going to congratulate me, Mr. Sherbrooke?”
“On supporting your friend to the altar? Harvey here was certainly impressed with you.”
“I nearly dropped the bouquet.” She leaned over, pulled a handkerchief out of a pocket in her gown he couldn’t have found even if he’d been looking for it, and, just like Jessie, spit on the handkerchief, and efficiently wiped Harvey ’s face. She saw him staring at her and said only, “I raised four children, myself. Did you see Melissa grab Leo at the end of the service? I thought Reverend Sherbrooke would laugh out loud.”
The vicarage gardens smelled of honeysuckle and roses in the late afternoon, or maybe it was her unique scent, he wasn’t sure. He said, “I remember when I was a very young boy, Uncle Tysen rarely laughed, especially when he gave a sermon. His life was dedicated to God, a God who evidently was only interested in hearing about endless sins and avoiding transgressions, always impossible. This God of Uncle Tysen’s didn’t believe in laughter or in everyday sorts of pleasures. Then he met Mary Rose. She brought God’s love and forgiveness into his life and into his church. She brought laughter and peace and infinite joy.” He paused a moment, felt his voice thicken as he said, “I didn’t realize how much I’d missed my family until today when they were all around me. And my aunt Melissande, who always patted my face and called me her mirror. She didn’t this time, she hugged me until my uncle Tony finally pulled her away. There were tears in her eyes.” Why had he said any of that to her? After all, he’d beaten her. Shortly she would want to drive a knife between his ribs. Harvey snorted again in his sleep. Jason automatically tightened his hold, rocked him.
“What you said about your uncle Tysen-it was quite eloquent.”
He ignored that, feeling something of a fool for speaking of it to her. “Why should I congratulate you, Miss Carrick?”
