Christmas Wedding

by Tess Thompson

  “But things have changed for you. Lisa and Rafael are generous,” Dominic said. “They’ll send you wherever you want to go. Isn’t that right?”

  “They’ve been so good to me already. I don’t know.”

  He smiled. “You’re proud. You’ve worked all your life to support yourself and your son.”

  “Correct.” She smoothed the skirt of her dress, shy to meet his penetrating gaze. “What about you? Do you have a new chapter?”

  “I’d like there to be, yes. I’ve been to a lot of places because of work, but there are many more I’d like to explore. I’d like to have someone by my side. A woman, for instance.”

  “A woman?”

  “Yes. A woman. A special someone, so to speak.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I’m going to have a scotch. Would you care for anything?”

  “Some water, please?”

  He rose from the couch and disappeared. As she continued to stare into the fire, she heard liquid pour into a glass, then the beverage cooler door opening and closing. He returned with their drinks and handed her a green glass bottle of the fancy water, then returned to his former position.

  “When Susanna was sick, she asked me to promise her I’d try to find someone to love, to grow old with.”

  “Did you promise her?” she asked.

  “I did.” His eyes glittered as he brought the glass to his mouth and took a drink. “It’s the only time I ever lied to her. I told her I would because it gave her peace. She was in so much pain. I sensed she couldn’t let go until I said the words to her. Even at the end, she was thinking about me. At the time, I didn’t think I would ever fulfill that promise.”

  “And now?”

  “Lately, I realize she’s right. I’m young. Acting like I died with her is no way to live. She loved me enough to want my happiness above her own. I owe it to her memory to live. To love again.” He took another sip of his cocktail. “That said, finding someone isn’t just as simple as the desire to do so. I’ve gone out on a few coffee dates with women I met online, but no one’s been even close to right. What about you, Rosa? Do you date?”

  She shook her head. “I’ve never had any interest in remarrying. I don’t want to be hurt like I was when my husband left. I didn’t want Rafael hurt, either.”

  “You’re young. And beautiful. Maybe it’s time to try?”

  Heat flooded her cheeks. She was still capable of blushing. Who would have guessed? “I haven’t felt beautiful for a long time.”

  “Maybe you haven’t been looking through the right lenses.” He tapped near his right eye. “Since my cataract surgery, my eyes see quite well. You’re beautiful.”

  She laughed. “Cataract surgery? Is this what people our age talk about on…on dates?”

  His repaired eyes twinkled at her. “So, this is a date.”

  “I guess so. It’s been thirty-four years since I’ve had one.”

  His brown eyes turned serious. “Not one man in all these years?”

  “I’m Catholic. The divorce was already sin enough.”

  “I see.” He nodded, then smiled, obviously seeing another side to her. Would he like what he learned? Was she too old-fashioned for this modern world?

  “You’re an amazing woman, Rosa.”

  “I’m a very ordinary woman. Rosa the Lunch Lady. Mama Soto.”

  “Just Rosa, to me,” he said. “Beautiful Rosa.”

  “I like the sound of that,” she said as she examined her hands.

  “If I were to, say, come out to Cliffside Bay for a visit, would you let me take you to dinner?”

  Her head snapped up to look at him. “Why me? With your looks and wealth, you could have a date with anyone.”

  He reached across the couch with his long arm and put his hand over hers. “You make me feel awake. Alive. Curious. You make me want to dance.”

  “Dance?”

  “Yes. As a matter of fact, I have an idea.” He leaped up from the couch and went over to a cabinet with double doors. “I saw a record player in here.”

  “A real one? Like from our time?”

  “Yes.” He opened the doors wide and stepped back from the cabinet. “There are hundreds of records down here. Come pick one.”

  She inched her way off the couch, careful not to let her skirt hike up around her thighs. If this man was coming for a visit, she might have to order some panties that didn’t have the capacity to cover Texas. Wait a minute, what was she thinking? She was still a good Catholic girl, even if she was fifty-three years old. No hanky-panky unless there was a ring on it. Could she see herself with a man like Dominic Perry? There were worse ideas than spending every night of the rest of her life with this broad-shouldered, intelligent, funny, and sensitive man. And those hands of his. Large and capable, even though he probably wore a suit every day of his working life.

  Setting aside those insane internal babblings, she joined him at the cabinet. Hundreds of records were lined up on the highest shelf. How could she choose?

  “I don’t know much about music,” she said. “I never had time.”

  “Let’s see, then, if I can find just the right one.” He leaned closer and ran his finger along the spines.

  “Can you see those?” she asked. “The print’s way too small.”

  “Again, cataract surgery. Sexy, right?”

  She laughed and found herself leaning her shoulder against his arm. This man made her comfortable.

  “Ah, I’ve got it. Lionel Richie’s greatest hits.” He pulled the album out and held it out for her to see.

  “I’d forgotten.” An image of her mother singing along to the radio while washing dishes played before her eyes. “My mother always turned the radio up when she heard ‘Stuck On You.’”

  Dominic opened the lid of the turntable and slipped the album out of its cover.

  She put her hand on his arm. “May I? I’ve always wanted to do it.”

  He blinked, looking surprised. “You’ve never put a record on before?”

  “No. We never had one.” The shame of her old enemy poverty crept up the back of her neck. “Rafael bought me one of those fancy phone players when they came out. Before that, the radio suited me fine.”

  Dominic stepped aside and handed her the record. “Hold it with your palms, like this.”

  She nodded and took it from him. Carefully, she placed it on the turntable. He pushed a button, and it began to spin.

  “Lift the arm, here,” he said, pointing to the lever.

  She pinched it between her thumb and finger, then froze midair. “Will I scratch it?”

  “No, you’ll be fine. Place it as close to the edge as you can.”

  Standing on her tippy-toes to get a better look, she gently set the needle down on the first track. A faint scratching sound came through the speakers for a second or two before the music started to play.

  She turned to look at him, pleased with herself. Another first. This weekend was full of them.

  He held out his hand. “May I have this dance?”

  Shy, she simply nodded.

  He led her to the windows. With one hand holding hers, he wrapped the other around her waist. Without her shoes, she only came up to his chest. Outside the window, snow fell in wide, languid flakes.

  “It’s snowing,” she said as she looked up at him.

  “Just for you.”

  She smiled and tucked her head against his chest as they swayed to the music. After all this time, a man’s arms held her, as if they’d been doing this for years.

  They danced to one, then another. She drifted in his arms, like the snowflakes outside the window.

  In the middle of the third song, a noise from the front door drew their attention. The young people were home. Her instinct was to jump apart, as if they were doing something wrong. However, before she could do so, all that energy piled into the room. Maggie and Jackson came in first, holding hands and flushed from the cold. Trey cradled Autumn in his arms, like a groom carrying his bride o
ver the threshold. Nico had a laughing Ria by the hand, flakes of snow in her black hair. Stone carried Pepper on his back, her dancer legs encircling his waist. David came in last, carrying a stack of logs.

  They all stopped in their tracks when they spotted Rosa and Dominic still in their embrace.

  Hands on her hips, Ria was the first to speak. “Did you forget to invite us to the party?”

  “Um, no,” Rosa said.

  “We’re having a dance,” Dominic said. “Care to join us?”

  Maggie’s face broke into a huge smile as she turned to her husband. “Dancing is just the perfect end to a great night.”

  Jackson took her in his arms. “I couldn’t agree more.”

  “Yes, dancing. Let’s all dance,” Pepper said as she jumped from Stone’s back.

  No one needed any convincing. David offered to make eggnog in the kitchen, but the rest joined them by the window. Stone and Pepper held on to each other so tightly that no air could come between them. Autumn slumped against Trey’s strong body, letting him take the burden of her weight. Nico, however, was light on his feet as he waltzed Ria around the room.

  She and Dominic inched closer together and carried on with their dance.

  The first side of the album finished. Jackson put more logs on the fire. David passed around glasses of eggnog. They all drank as the kids told them about the rest of the evening. Other than Lisa’s parents, who’d managed to rent separate rooms at the lodge and gone to bed, they’d gone back to the bar for another round, telling stories and laughing.

  Halfway through their eggnogs, Pepper jumped to her feet and suggested Christmas music for their next dance. Stone found the old Emmylou Harris Christmas album. Soon, the bluegrass drifted out of the speakers. The fire glowed orange. Snow continued to fall outside the window. Instead of getting back up to dance, the young people flopped on couches and chairs by the window. Among a splay of entwined arms and legs, they talked and laughed, but to Rosa it was only background noise. She could see and hear only Dominic.

  “Shall we sit?” he asked.

  “Yes. My feet are a little out of dancing practice.”

  She snuggled into a corner of the couch in front of the fireplace. Dominic sat next to her. After such a short time, they’d established this as their spot in the house.

  Rosa Soto and Mama Soto seemed to merge then. She would always be a mama to this adopted flock of adult children, these grown men and women who were still so young and tender. But she was a woman, too. A woman sitting close to a man on a couch in front of a roaring fire. A man who wanted to take her on a date. He might even want to kiss her later. She would ask him to walk her to her room. When they reached her door, he might lean down and brush her mouth with his. The idea coursed through her like a wildfire until she was hot and alive and burning with excitement. She wanted him to kiss her. More than anything, she wanted to know what his mouth felt like against her own.

  “Dominic?”

  He looked over at her. “Yes?”

  She leaned close to whisper in his ear. “If you want to kiss me good-night, I’ll allow it.”

  His mouth widened in a slow smile. “I’m glad to know, because I would very much like to kiss you good-night.”

  “I haven’t been kissed in thirty-four years.”

  “Then I better make sure it’s a good one.” He shifted to face her. “But first things first. May I hold your hand, Rosa Soto?”

  “You may.”

  While the iridescent voice of Emmylou continued to sing of Christmas, Dominic took her hand in his large one. They sat together staring into the fire, not speaking, but communicating in the comfortable way their fingers intertwined. A man by her side. Who would have ever thought it possible? A man to go through the rest of her life with had never seemed like a possibility. But now, basking in the glow of the fire, the dream of a new kind of life pushed aside her assumptions, and a flicker of hope emerged.

  Rosa Soto might just live to love again.

  8

  Rafael

  * * *

  Rafael’s knees weakened when the red doors of the little church with a steeple and stained-glass windows opened and his bride entered on the arm of her father. She stood with her dad in the entryway, and as the first notes of the prelude music played, the children started their way down the aisle. Lisa’s nephew Oliver, in a suit that matched the groomsmen, held a pillow in his hands and sped toward them with no deference to the tempo. When he reached his father, Oliver tossed him the pillow as though it was a football and then hastened his way to the first-row pew to sit beside Mama. Two-year-old Laine, dressed in a white tulle dress with pink bows, meandered toward them like a drunken college freshman, tossing pink rose petals in uneven bunches from her chubby hands. Halfway there, she seemed to forget her purpose and sat down in the middle of the aisle, as if to pick flowers in a meadow instead of dispersing them.

  David waved to her. “Come on, baby. This way.”

  “Daddy!” As if she hadn’t seen him for years, she leaped to her feet. With the same drunken gait only faster, she finished her performance. Before she could reach David, Mama scooped her up and into her lap. Rafael expected a fuss, but Mama was too smart for that. She stuffed a chocolate in the child’s mouth, and all was well.

  The piano player they’d hired for the wedding ended the prelude and paused for a moment before starting the processional music. Lisa had asked for a piano version of “A Thousand Years.” The notes of the song seemed to float on the rays of sun that filtered through the windows. On her father’s arm, with a serene smile across her face, she started toward him. Oh, his bride. What a beauty. She was a swirl of tulle and lace and, as always, seemed to glide rather than walk. As angels do. He put his hand on Stone’s arm to steady himself.

  “You good, man?” Stone asked, under his breath. “You’re not going to pass out, are you?”

  “I might,” Rafael said.

  “Don’t you worry,” Pastor Jordan said. “Catching grooms is one of my specialties.”

  In dusty-rose-hued dresses covered in tulle and with fitted bodices, Pepper and Maggie stood on the other side of Pastor Jordan.

  Rafael’s sight blurred with tears as Lisa made her way down the aisle. Her veil floated behind her. A bouquet of white and pink roses cascaded from her hands.

  He wiped his eyes. David, who stood next to Stone, took a handkerchief out of his gray suit pocket and did the same. The men’s suits were the color of a stormy sky and paired with pink ties. All chosen by his bride, as it should be. He was in a dark gray, almost black suit. Not that anyone would be looking at him or the guys, given Lisa and her bridesmaids’ loveliness.

  Finally, she reached him. Her father kissed her cheek. “Be well,” he said before addressing Rafael. “Take good care of my princess.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  She moved to stand with Rafael in front of Pastor Jordan. Pepper stepped forward to take the bouquet.

  Rafael took her hands and soaked in her beauty, completely awestruck by his bride. “I have no words to describe how beautiful you look.”

  “Thank you.” She smiled up at him, and his heart may have stopped for an instant.

  Pastor Jordan welcomed them. Rafael caught Mama’s eyes sitting in the front pew. She placed her hand on her heart and beamed at him. Lisa’s mother sat next to Mr. Perry, perhaps for the last time. But for now at least, they appeared to be proud parents watching their daughter get married.

  “Welcome, family and friends, to the wedding of Rafael Soto and Lisa Perry. I’m honored to be here today and thought I’d share a little of my philosophy and advice about marriage. Rafael, always take the time to notice what she’s wearing and compliment her. Be specific. Not ‘you look nice,’ but rather, ‘you in that dress makes me think we should just stay home and forget the party.’”

  Nervous twitters from the audience didn’t seem to bother Pastor Jordan. He went right on with his advice.

  “Talk through everything, espec
ially the hard stuff like money and sex.”

  More nervous laughter from the audience, including the bride and groom.

  Undaunted, Pastor Jordan continued. “My father told me never to go to bed angry, and although it’s not a new idea, it sure is a good one. Have it out, work it out, and then make up. Also, it’s the small gestures of consideration and love that make a happy marriage. Bringing coffee to your spouse in the morning when you know they’ve had a later night, or taking out the trash when you notice it’s full. Finally, don’t ever forget that God made you for each other, with all your quirks and faults and gifts; you’re uniquely made to love each other. Be thankful to him for putting in all that careful forethought.” He paused and looked up at the congregation. “Can I get an amen?”

  A loud chorus of amen echoed through the church.

  The rest of the ceremony passed in a blur. Maggie and Pepper sang the song he’d asked for, “(God Must Have Spent) A Little More Time on You.” A surprise for Lisa—she cried as the ladies’ voices traded between melody and harmony.

  They exchanged vows, promising publicly the sentiments they’d already said to each other the day before.

  And with all that, they were pronounced husband and wife.

  “And perhaps for the first time, you may kiss your bride without fear of damnation,” Pastor Jordan said as he winked at Rafael. “Come on now, I know you’ve been in the same room at the lodge.” He clucked his tongue, then laughed as he put one hand on each of their shoulders. “Seriously, now. Kiss your bride.”

  Kiss her he did. And maybe Pastor Jordan was right. Kissing your wife without the fear of damnation was damn fine indeed.