Four Weddings and a Fireman

by Jennifer Bernard

  Before the shock could register, he caught her up in his arms. “I mean, yes, I’ll marry you. But not here, no offense to the Chappelle. After all it took to get you to fall for me, I want to make this wedding count. I want to get married back in San Gabriel.”

  In one fell swoop, her world righted itself. Giddy with joy, she clung to his shoulders. “I fell for you that first night,” she told him. “You know I did.”

  He smiled down at her, those warm, lit-from-within eyes infusing her with a feeling of rightness. “Yeah. I know. Everyone thought I was being dense. But I’m smarter than they think. I knew all along this day would come.” With a glance at the chaotic scene around them, he added, “I gotta say, I didn’t picture it like this though.” He gestured to Jacob and Robbie. “Hey guys, the Chappelle is offering up a free wedding. Know anyone who might be interested?”

  Jacob went bright pink, then white. Robbie, who was pressed about as close to Jacob as Cherie was to Vader, whispered something in Jacob’s ear. The waves of color kept coming and going, until her brother, red as a strawberry, said, “We would. Yes. We’d like to get married.”

  “Can you do it?” Vader asked the officiant.

  “We’ll need a properly notarized marriage license from a state that recognizes same-sex marriage, but yes. Of course we can do it. What date works for you?” Huddling with Jacob and Robbie, the officiant whipped out an iPhone and began tapping.

  Still holding Cherie in his arms, Vader turned his back on the cameras and walked her a few feet away, where they could be marginally more private.

  “How does four months from today sound?” Vader said, brushing his lips against hers. “Does that give us time to make our wedding as beautiful as you are?”

  “Sure. I’ll see if I can find a henhouse that hasn’t been booked yet.” And with that little joke, she knew she’d left the past behind, for real this time.

  Lights flashing, Engine 1 pulled into the parking lot of San Gabriel Fire Station 1. Strangely enough, Double D, the engineer, wore a tuxedo. He braked the engine to a stop and climbed out, joining the crowd of onlookers. He tweaked his white bow tie into a perfect line.

  A tone sounded and a female voice spoke over the intercom. “Ladies and gentlemen, firefighters and guests, please welcome our bride and groom, Cherie Harper and Vader Brown.”

  Fred, wearing a black blazer over jeans, marched to the engine’s door and opened it with a flourish.

  Vader, an awe-inspiring sight in his black, swallow-tailed tuxedo, stepped out. He gave the crowd an incandescent smile, then turned back to his bride. He lifted Cherie as if she were crafted of swan’s down and set her on the pavement, where she stood in a floating cloud of purest cream. A sigh fluttered through the group and everyone applauded.

  Cherie had worked for months on her dress—four months, to be exact. Its filmy layers of dreamlike chiffon were adorned with little pink flowers lifted from a vintage cashmere sweater. Its tight bodice had made Vader’s eyes go bright as flares when she’d first stepped into the fire engine.

  Trixie had loaned her a bracelet of sweetgrass from home. The wistful scent brought to mind her father, who’d called from the feed store with something almost resembling an apology. He’d wished her well in her marriage; it was enough.

  Ginny Brown had gifted her with a glass hair ornament shaped like a blue butterfly. It sat above her ear, keeping Trixie’s masterpiece of an updo in place. Trixie had been studying wedding hairstyles for weeks, and had come up with something ridiculously elaborate that had taken her all morning to accomplish.

  Cherie was too happy to mind. Trixie could have shaved her head and painted “Marry me” on her scalp and she would have been delighted.

  Fred, with a solemn accompaniment from Mulligan on bagpipes, shepherded the guests toward the rows of folding chairs on the lawn behind the station. Everyone except Vader and Cherie trooped that direction. The bride and groom were supposed to wait until everyone was seated so they could proceed down the aisle between the chairs. At the last minute, Danielle remembered that she was the flower girl, and ran to Cherie’s side.

  Fire station weddings didn’t happen very often—Station 1 had never hosted one—but since Vader had just earned his promotion, acing the “three whole score” interview, with the entire Las Vegas police force vouching for his leadership qualities, Chief Renteria had made an exception.

  Captain Brody took his place under the “arch,” as everyone had been calling it. The guys had made the structure out of PVC pipe, and a few of Cherie’s tango students had volunteered to decorate it with lilies and white-petaled hydrangea. The captain wore a nice black suit and looked extremely handsome. But Cherie couldn’t tear her eyes away from Vader, her strong, loyal, stubborn ram of a husband-to-be.

  Before she wheeled to her position in the front row, Ginny Brown twitched a wrinkle out of Cherie’s dress. Even Vader hadn’t required as much proof of her love as Ginny had. But over the past few months, Cherie had won her over with much baking and yarn rolling and baring of her heart.

  “Do you know, hon, I think my feng shui worked after all,” Ginny whispered. “If I hadn’t set the house on fire, we might not be here right now.”

  Cherie stifled a laugh in her bouquet. Ginny winked and rolled down the aisle to her spot.

  Trixie, as maid of honor, already stood on one side of the arch, holding a simple bouquet of lilies with a trailing pink ribbon. Joe the Toe towered on the other side. Vader had been torn between Joe and Fred, until Fred had obligingly volunteered to be a sort of master of ceremonies instead.

  Brody cleared his throat, signaling the beginning of the ceremony. “Welcome to the wedding of Derek Brown and Chastisement Harper, known to those who love them as Vader and Cherie.” Brody looked down at the pages he held in his hands. “Before we start, I’d like to add my own personal thoughts about this wedding.”

  Cherie’s eyes widened. Brody was going off the planned script.

  “I’ve learned a few things about love in the last couple years.” Everyone glanced at Melissa, his wife, who cradled their new baby boy in her arms. She beamed back at the crowd. From what Cherie could tell, she pretty much alternated between beaming and sleeping these days.

  Brody continued. “I’ve been humbled many times by love. I’ve had my eyes opened, I’ve had the sense knocked out of me. Some people say this firehouse is cursed. That every time one of us falls in love, it’s like stepping onto a roller coaster. I’m not going to disagree with that. But I’m here to tell you that it’s not a curse. It’s a blessing. It makes us recognize true love when we see it shining in front of us, the way we do with our brother Vader and his beloved Cherie. It’s a true honor and joy to be part of this moment in their lives.”

  Cherie’s eyes hazed over. Oh no, this was her worst fear. She’d lectured herself on the ride from her house. Don’t cry, don’t cry. But the tears insisted on slipping down her cheeks, and she decided to let them.

  Fred beckoned to Danielle, who skipped down the aisle, tossing rose petals with wild abandon, as if they were confetti. White and pink fluttered through the air, falling on upturned faces and suit jacket sleeves.

  Even though Cherie laughed along with everyone else, her tears didn’t stop. As she and Vader walked hand in hand down the aisle, she knew people noticed her face was wet. She made sure they also saw her brilliant smile. No more fears. Only love.

  When she and Vader had taken their places and faced each other, Ryan Blake got to his feet and read the Firefighter’s Prayer, which Vader had selected as the opening prayer. “When I am called to duty, God, whenever flames may rage. Give me strength to save a life, whatever be its age. Help me embrace a little child before it is too late. Or save an older person from the horror of that fate . . .”

  And here came another hot trail of tears down her face. The moving words, the solemn silence, the occasional chatter of voices from the B shift still at work inside the station, the gentle scent of lilies blessing the air wit
h their essence . . . she’d never forget this moment, and how it felt to be standing up before the world revealing her love for the man across from her.

  The tears kept coming, off and on, throughout the simple ceremony. But they didn’t keep her from saying the most important word of her life, “Yes.”

  Yes to love, yes to life, yes to Vader. Such a simple word, “yes,” but it could change your whole life. Vader said it too, with an expression of bone-deep seriousness. She wondered how many of his fire crew had seen him like this before, his devotion and commitment so clear, not a hint of playfulness to be seen. She loved him to the core, through all the different layers of heat and fun and rock-solid loyalty.

  Joe the Toe reached into his pocket and pulled out a vintage square-cut diamond ring in a rose-gold setting. Vader had combed through San Gabriel’s shops until he found something he thought suited her. He’d been a hundred percent right. Trixie extracted Vader’s ring from the little bag attached to her wrist. Cherie had designed it herself, with three interlocking bands: gold for permanence, copper for good luck, and iron for protection. She’d poured many prayers into that ring; she was counting on it to keep him safe. That—and the firefighters here today, every one of whom she trusted with her heart’s life.

  When Captain Brody declared them man and wife, an expression of such tender emotion came over Vader’s face that Cherie started crying again. Ginny rang the ceremonial fire bell, and amid its solemn, joyful tones, he drew her toward him and kissed each tear away.

  “I’m so happy,” she sobbed, worried he might think the wrong thing. “I’m crying because I’m happy,” she called to the guests, who were rising to their feet. “I always cry when I’m happy.”

  “She does,” agreed Trixie. “But I’ve never seen her cry this much before.”

  Everyone laughed, and Cherie shot her a look of pure gratitude. And then Brody was hugging her and she was thanking him, and Ginny was wheeling her chair toward them. Tears streamed down her face as well. “I always cry when I see other people cry,” she explained. “I can’t help it.”

  Cherie laughed, and that helped chase the tears away.

  By the time they’d all reached Firefly, where the reception was being held, she was ready to throw herself into the party. Former Chief Roman had volunteered to man the grill and was churning out cheeseburgers and chicken wings at a rate only a party of firefighters could consume. The bar held platters of the legendary Harper family molasses-ginger-chocolate-chunk cookies and Vader’s favorite peanut butter brownies, which Trixie and Cherie had spent days baking.

  But the real showpiece was the wedding cake, which had been donated by the Chappelle de l’Amour and could only be considered a work of art. It sat in a place of honor on a table in the middle of the dance floor, surrounded by admiring guests. It was two cakes, really, the larger one decorated to look like a house on fire, with flames made of red and orange frosting licking up the sides. The smaller cake looked exactly like a fire engine. A candy ladder linked the two cakes. On the very top of the bigger cake, a miniature fireman held a white-gowned bride in his strong arms.

  Guests sipped beer and champagne and oohed and ahhed.

  Since Cherie knew the schedule inside out, she knew that her big surprise had to happen right away. She extracted herself from Vader’s tight grasp. “Be right back,” she told him. She gestured to Jacob, who was manning the bar with Robbie, and Trixie, who was flirting with Ace again.

  With her brother and sister at her side, Cherie made her way to the microphone that had been set up near the old fireman’s pole. “Hello everyone. Thank you so much for being here on the happiest day of our lives. It means so much to me and to my wonderful, beloved husband, Vader.”

  Husband. Amazing how easily the word rolled off her tongue.

  “My brother and sister have kindly offered to help me express my joy. So here we go. Introducing, for one day only, the Heavenly Harpers.”

  She cleared her throat, and began to sing.

  The first note vibrated in Vader’s belly as if Cherie had reached in and plucked a string he hadn’t known existed. The second note sent a shivering thrill down his spine. He wasn’t even sure what the words were. All he knew was that ravishing beauty existed all around him, and he’d never known it until her voice had struck the match that illuminated it.

  He closed his eyes as her singing reached across the room and curled around his heart. Two other voices joined hers, one high and ethereal, like a fairy’s, the other bright and vibrant, enthusiastically capering through the hushed, spellbound atmosphere.

  At last, her love had come, Cherie was singing.

  And she was talking about him.

  He opened his eyes to meet hers, to let the full power of his love show. But she was way ahead of him. Love radiated from her being, vibrated in each glorious note, danced around the room to include everyone present . . . and found its way to him.

  He realized he was gripping someone’s hand. His mother’s. The look on her face must have echoed his—incredulous bliss at witnessing something so splendid. If he hadn’t already loved Cherie with every particle of his heart, he would have loved her even more, for putting that expression on his mother’s face.

  Later, after Cherie and Vader’s first dance—they wowed the guests with a tango they’d been rehearsing, or pretending to rehearse, when they weren’t falling into bed—Vader found himself alone with Jacob.

  “You sing like a freaking angel,” he told his new brother-in-law. “Why don’t you do it for a living?”

  “Ohhh, that’s what we should call ourselves. ‘Freaking Angels.’ Just kidding. None of us wants to sing professionally. We do it for love, that’s all. But I won’t be surprised if Cherie starts using music in her work with kids.”

  Vader nodded. He could picture that. He could also picture Cherie singing to their children, raising them with music and dancing and peanut butter brownies. There would be several children. He knew it, the same way he’d known Cherie was the one for him. “I’ve been wanting to ask you, Jacob. What’s the deal with Soren and Nick?” Both members of Optimal Doom were out on the dance floor, stumbling their way through a tango with Cathy and another of Cherie’s students. “Are they really such good friends of yours?”

  “I know what you’re really asking. You want to know why I made such an annoying pair of losers move into the house when I left.”

  “Yeah.”

  “To watch out for Cherie, of course. I couldn’t leave my sister unprotected.”

  “But them?” Vader watched as Soren squished Cathy’s foot, making her hop around in agony. “What were they supposed to do, irritate intruders away?”

  “In a way. I figured any guy who could put up with those two must really love my sister. Think of it as a labor of Hercules.” Jacob winked, and headed off to dance with Robbie, his own brand-new spouse.

  Vader had to think about that for a minute. Feats of strength were his stock in trade. Feats of putting up with irritating housemates . . . he’d never considered that.

  “Frickin’ Hercules,” grumbled Stud, who stood at his elbow, holding a bottle of beer. Frankly, he looked a little drunk. “It’s always the big, strong guys who get the girl. Look at you, Vader. You know what girls think when they see you?”

  Vader didn’t care what any girl except Cherie thought, but he humored him. “What?”

  “They think ‘hero.’ Like Hercules. You’re strong, you can lift anything, you have that manly look they go crazy over. They all want a hero. That’s what they see when they look at you. If I could have just a tiny bit of what you have . . .” He trailed off, shook his head sadly, and tilted the bottle to his lips. “Ignore me. I’ve got a buzz on.”

  Vader clapped a hand on his back. “Freddie, I’m going to get mushy right now, because it’s my wedding day and I want everyone to be happy. You ready?”

  Fred, looking a little alarmed, nodded.

  “If the girls knew what a hero you are in here”—
he thumped Fred’s chest—“you wouldn’t be able to take a step without some chick falling for you. So be careful what you wish for.”

  Fred stared at him, the beer bottle stranded halfway to his mouth. Vader could practically see the wheels churning.

  But now Vader had run out of patience with being separated from his bride. The need to be with Cherie propelled him across the crowded dance floor. Today, now, after everything they’d been through, he didn’t want to be apart from her. As he made his way to her side, the final words from the Firefighter’s Prayer echoed through his mind.

  And if, according to my fate, I am to lose my life; Please bless with your protecting hand my children and my wife.

  His wife. It had been at least four minutes since he’d touched her, or even seen her. But as usual, he knew exactly where she was, without even looking. It was as if an invisible lamp glowed in her soul, lighting his way back to her.

  Life was pretty simple, as it turned out. All you had to do was follow the light.

  About the Author

  Jennifer Bernard is a graduate of Harvard and a former news promo producer. The child of academics, she confounded her family by preferring romance novels to . . . well, any other books. She left big city life for true love in Alaska, where she now lives with her husband and stepdaughters. She’s no stranger to book success, as she also writes erotic novels under a naughty secret name not to be mentioned at family gatherings.

  Visit www.JenniferBernard.net.

  Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins authors.

  Romances by Jennifer Bernard

  FOUR WEDDINGS AND A FIREMAN

  HOW TO TAME A WILD FIREMAN

  SEX AND THE SINGLE FIREMAN

  HOT FOR FIREMAN

  THE FIREMAN WHO LOVED ME

  An E-Book Original from Avon Impulse

  ONE FINE FIREMAN: A NOVELLA

  Copyright

  This book is a work of fiction. References to real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locales are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity, and are used fictitiously. All other characters, and all incidents and dialogue, are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.