He kissed her long and hard. “And the last, if I have my way.”
And then, early on the morning of the day before the wedding, it started to snow. At first, it was nothing more than a dusting that settled lightly on the naked branches of the trees, but by midafternoon the view across the lake was obscured behind swirling flakes as big as dimes.
“What if the cars can’t make it up the hill to the church?” Sophie’s mother fretted, patrolling back and forth in front of the French doors with Ryan in her arms. “What if the airport has to close and Paul and Jenny miss the whole thing?”
“What if the baby throws up in the middle of the service or the groom doesn’t show?” Sophie’s father replied, dropping a sly wink at his daughter behind her mother’s back. “If it’s trouble you’re looking for, Anne, there’s always plenty to be found.”
“Sometimes, Doug,” Anne snapped, “I wonder why I married you!”
“Because you had to,” he said wryly. “As you’re so fond of recalling at the most inappropriate times, you were already expecting the twins and I didn’t like the way your father’s shotgun was aimed at my backside. Hand my grandson to me, for Pete’s sake, before you drop him.”
“Don’t worry about a thing, honey,” Dominic told Sophie when he phoned to say good-night. “I picked up Paul and Jenny at the airport half an hour ago, and I’ve got a crew on standby to clear the roads tomorrow, if necessary. One way or another, I’ll get you to the church on time. You’re not slipping through my fingers again.”
Sophie didn’t lose sleep over any of it. She believed in that old adage about the sun shining on happy brides, and her faith was rewarded. By her wedding morning, the skies arched blue and brilliant over Jewel Lake, showing off Palmerstown in all its dazzling glory. Ryan surveyed the world in wide-eyed wonder from his grandfather’s arms while Sophie, her mother and Elaine gave each other manicures.
At four o’clock, two long white limousines drew up outside the front door. There was plenty of room in one for all the trappings a baby might need at his first wedding, and for his grandmother and the maid of honor.
Sophie rode in the other with her father. “You know,” he said, clasping her hand in both of his, “I wasn’t sure Dominic was good enough for you when all this started. But seeing how happy he makes you, and the way you look at each other, well, I have to say I think you’ve both done pretty well for yourselves, and that grandson of mine is a lucky little guy.”
Sophie hadn’t thought it was possible for the day to get any better, but this kudo from her hard-to-please father added the finishing touch. “Don’t make me cry, Daddy,” she said shakily. “You’ll ruin my mascara.”
St. Jude’s, all dressed up for the season, was packed. Scarlet poinsettias lined the steps leading to the altar. In the narthex, where the wedding party took their places to begin the processional, stood a softly backlit Nativity scene with painted figures of the Holy Family kneeling amid straw brought in from one of the nearby farms.
“They’re ready for us,” Anne said, straightening the collar of Ryan’s blue velvet outfit. “I’ll take the baby and go to the pew now.”
“And here’s your bouquet, Sophie,” Elaine whispered.
But beautiful though the white lilies were that Dominic had ordered for his bride, Sophie couldn’t draw her gaze away from the crèche. It was simple and unpretentious, but it moved her so profoundly that she feared her mascara was going to be washed away before she took one step down the aisle and past the guests waiting with such an expectant hush for her to appear.
“Sophe?” Elaine gave her a little nudge. “What’s up? You’re not getting cold feet at this stage, are you?”
“No, but there’s been a last-minute change of plan,” she said. “Here, Mom, you take my flowers and walk in with Daddy.”
“What? Sophie, you can’t come down the aisle empty-handed and alone.”
“I know,” Sophie said, holding out her arms for her son and pressing a kiss to his downy head.
If the guests at the Casson-Winter wedding happened to notice that the mother of the bride carried the bouquet intended for her daughter, they appeared not to care. They were too delighted by the sight of the bride carrying her infant son down the aisle to meet his father at the altar.
“It seemed the right thing to do,” Sophie whispered when she reached Dominic’s side. “Ryan should be part of this, not just an onlooker. We’re a family after all. Do you mind?”
“Mind?” Dominic’s voice was suspiciously hoarse. “How could I mind when you look like an angel and a Madonna all rolled into one? Anything you choose to do is fine by me if it makes you happy.”
“Knowing you love me and Ryan is all it takes to do that, Dominic,” she said.
Dominic reached over and settled his son on his right arm, then placed his left hand firmly around Sophie’s sweetly slender waist. “I will love you both for the rest of time, my darling,” he promised huskily. “You can count on that.”
ISBN : 978-1-4592-6882-1
DOMINIC’S CHILD
First North American Publication 1997.
Copyright © 1996 by Kathy Gamer.
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher. Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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