A Wedding to Remember

by Joanna Sims

  “I think,” Bruce finally said, his voice gruff with emotion, “that I would be honored to have another child with you.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “You look handsome.” Savannah admired her husband.

  He was showered, shaved and dressed in dark blue jeans with a black button-down shirt, and the cowboy hat he only wore on special occasions.

  “Thank you, darlin’.” He tipped his hat to her. “You’re lookin’ mighty fine yourself.”

  Wearing new slender-fit jeans and high-heel cowgirl boots, she gave her husband a little spin so he could get the full effect.

  “You’re a good-looking woman, my love.” Bruce hooked his arm around her waist, dipped her and kissed her lips.

  Savannah laughed and wiped her lipstick off her husband’s mouth. “That lipstick is not in your color wheel.”

  She grabbed her handbag, and they left for an evening out on the town. One of Bruce’s brothers, Shane, a retired marine and more-often-than-not recluse, was making a rare appearance at a bar downtown. Savannah loved all of her brothers-in-law—even Colton, who still treated her like enemy number one—but she had just a little extra special in her heart for Shane. He had always been such a warmhearted, gentle, sensitive young man who poured himself into his music. All of those things that Shane couldn’t say out loud, he said with his voice, his lyrics and his acoustic guitar. After being deployed to Iraq four times, Shane wasn’t the same young man. The death and the horrors of war had changed him forever.

  At a small, round table, Savannah sat beside her husband, waiting for Shane to begin performing. Every available Brand was present—from Jock to Colton to Liam. Only Jessie, who was still underage, and Noah, who was still in South Korea, weren’t in attendance. That was something that Savannah could always say about the family she had married into—they were dysfunctional as all get-out, but they stuck together despite the dysfunction.

  “Here he is.” Savannah squeezed Bruce’s arm excitedly. “Here he is.”

  “He looks real rough.”

  Bruce was right about that—Shane looked worse for wear. His hair was long and shaggy, and he had an unkempt beard and mustache. His sunglasses, in her opinion, were a way of hiding his hurt spirit and the bloodshot eyes. Too much booze, too much pot, not enough sunshine and fresh air.

  “My name’s Shane Brand.” Sitting alone on the stage with a microphone and his guitar, Shane seemed more at home in a dive bar than anywhere else. “I’m gonna play for you folks for a minute or two. I hope y’all enjoy it.”

  Savannah downed the rest of her beer and nodded her head when Bruce asked her if she wanted another.

  “Why do I feel so nervous for him?” she whispered to her husband.

  “You’ve got a kind heart, that’s why.”

  She stopped talking then, her attention on Shane’s gravelly, haunting voice and lyrics, so raw and honest that it made her catch her breath a time or two. Song after song, Shane played for the attentive crowd. There was something about Shane that grabbed a person’s attention and held on to it for dear life. Between songs, Shane reached down to take a swig of the beer that sat at his feet, or take a drag off a cigarette.

  “He’s so talented,” Savannah said sadly. “But, God, he’s so screwed up.”

  After the set, Shane slumped into a chair at Jock and Lilly’s table, a cigarette clenched between his teeth and a fresh bottle of beer in his hand.

  Savannah waited her turn, but she finally got to hug her favorite brother-in-law.

  “Bruce and I are renewing our vows, Shane.” She knelt down beside his chair. “Now I know you don’t really do family events, but I want you to promise me you’re going to come.”

  Shane, still wearing his sunglasses to cover his eyes, blew out a thin line of white smoke before he said, “I’ll do my best.”

  She stood up and touched his arm lightly. “That’s all anybody can ask of you, Shane.”

  The beer was running right through her, so she excused herself to the bathroom. The line for the women’s bathroom, as usual, was long and moving at a snail’s pace. She finally got into a stall, took care of her bladder and then stopped at the two-sink counter to wash her hands and check her makeup.

  “Well, look who it is. Savannah Brand.”

  Savannah was midway through glossing her lips when a voice from the past interrupted her string of thoughts about trying to figure out how Bruce and she could support Shane, to help him get healthy again.

  In the mirror, Savannah looked behind her and there stood the tall, curvy, always a knockout no matter the decade Kerri Mahoney.

  “Hello, Kerri,” she said as she slipped the wand back into the tube and dropped the lip gloss into her purse.

  They had gone to elementary school, middle school, high school and college together. Kerri had always been the most popular, the most pretty, the most everything, while she had been the sort of cute, sort of quirky, brainy geek girl. Kerri didn’t have anything to be jealous of Savannah about, except for the fact that Bruce fell in love with her, put a ring on it and then married her.

  Kerri stepped out of line to join her at the sink; the blonde smiled at her own reflection and flipped her thick, shiny hair over her shoulders.

  “That’s some scar,” Bruce’s ex-girlfriend observed.

  Savannah would always have a daily reminder of the accident with that scar; perhaps it would fade over time, but it would never truly go away. Bruce didn’t care two straws about the scar, but Savannah hated it. She had tried to cover it with makeup; Kerri had a talent for finding a person’s weakness and using it against them. Yes, Kerri was beautiful on the outside—that beauty did not, however, penetrate Kerri’s heart.

  Savannah turned away from the mirror. “Bruce doesn’t mind it.”

  Hate, genuine hate, flashed in Kerri’s cornflower-blue eyes, before she shuttered the emotion. There was no sense wasting time on a woman who didn’t wish her or her marriage well. So, she turned to the side to press past the women in line.

  Kerri reached out, wrapped her fingers around the upper part of Savannah’s arm and squeezed. “Just so you know—Bruce was in my bed the night of your accident.”

  Savannah yanked her arm out of Kerri’s grip. “That’s old news, Kerri.”

  Shaking with adrenaline and anger, Savannah returned to the table, sat down, chugged her beer then slammed the bottle down on the table.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Savannah nodded to the blonde walking out of the bathroom.

  Bruce saw Kerri, and that was all the information he needed. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not,” she said, her eyes flashing. “This is a real small town. It was bound to happen.”

  It wasn’t her suggestion, but Bruce wanted to leave once he realized that his ex was lurking near his family’s tables. They said goodbye to the family, promised to be at Sunday breakfast, and then, holding her husband’s hand, she followed him out of the bar and into the warm Montana night.

  “It’s still early.” Bruce opened the passenger door for her. “What’s your pleasure, my love?”

  “I want to go home. Maybe toast some marshmallows in the fire pit?”

  Bruce shut the door behind her. “We can do this.”

  * * *

  Seeing Kerri at the bar had brought up some bad thoughts in Bruce’s mind. He liked to ignore the past and just look forward with Savannah—would that ever be truly possible with Leroy and Kerri living in the same small town?

  “I’ve got beer and a half a bag of marshmallows.” Savannah came out of the house followed by Hound Dog.

  Her hair was in a ponytail, she was wearing a ribbed tank top braless, and her cutoff jean shorts showed off her nicely shaped legs. No, she may not be model gorgeous like Kerri, but Bruce only had eyes for his pretty wi
fe with the gap between her front teeth and a brain that rivaled any he’d ever met, man or woman. Savannah, for whatever reason, spoke to him on a soul-to-soul level that went much deeper than just mere outside appearances.

  “I like the way you fill out that shirt,” Bruce said with a teasing wink as he accepted a bottle of beer from his wife.

  Savannah smiled at him flirtatiously. She had taken off her bra as much to please him as for comfort; she knew he was partial to her shapely, perky breasts.

  His wife took a seat next to him on the outdoor love seat by the fire pit. She clinked her bottle to his.

  “Here’s to us,” Savannah said, then took a healthy swig from her beer.

  “To us.”

  Bruce had downed one beer and was on to the next, while Savannah toasted two marshmallows, one stacked on top of the other, over the fire.

  “Oh, crap!” She pulled the marshmallows away from the pit and blew out the flame.

  “Here.” He reached over and slid the burned, gooey marshmallows off the stick. “I like ’em charred.”

  She wrinkled her nose at him. “I worry about your taste buds. I really do.”

  With sticky marshmallow on his lips, he buried his face in her neck and started to kiss her ear to make her squeal.

  “I like how you taste,” he said suggestively, looking downward.

  Savannah laughed, and how he loved to make her laugh. Her laugh sounded light and airy, like wind chimes blowing in the wind.

  “This is so much better than the bar. The smoke was really starting to get to me.” Savannah loaded two more marshmallows onto her stick.

  “Why don’t you just put one there and that way you’ll be able to have more control?” he suggested.

  She frowned at him playfully. “Are you giving me advice on how to toast a marshmallow?”

  “I think I’m onto something.”

  “I think you need to just sit back, drink your beer and let me handle the toasting.”

  They sat outside together, drinking their way through a six-pack of beer and eating too many marshmallows to avoid feeling sick later. It was the perfect night at home with his wife; it was the type of night that almost wiped thoughts of Kerri and Leroy and the divorce out of his mind. Almost.

  “Wait here.” Bruce stood up and swayed a bit from the beers. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  “I’m not moving from this spot,” Savannah said in a singsong voice; she was tipsy, too.

  He and a couple of his brothers had moved all of his wife’s things out of her apartment; she had cleaned it and turned in the keys, just as she had promised she would. The fact that she was back on the ranch with all of her possessions had made him feel secure and relieved. It made him want to do something equally symbolic.

  He returned to his wife and the waning fire in the pit. Savannah was leaning back in the love seat, her legs bent to her chest, her head resting on the cushion.

  “I want us to do something.” Bruce didn’t rejoin her on the love seat.

  “What’s that?”

  He held up the manila envelope for her to see. “I want us to get rid of these.”

  Savannah pushed herself upright. “What do you have?”

  He handed her the envelope. She opened it and slipped the papers out; she glanced quickly over the words, and her eyes widened a bit when she realized she was holding their unsigned divorce decree.

  “I don’t want them.” She handed them back to him.

  Bruce held out his hand to her, and she took it.

  “Let’s burn them together.” He held on to her hand.

  She nodded; he could tell by the expression in her eyes that seeing the papers had hurt her. They hurt him, too.

  Savannah held on to one end of the papers, while he held on to the other end. After a moment of silence, they tossed their divorce decree into the embers. The fire, which had almost died away, began to eat at the paper, burning back the edges of the document and through the center. Bruce wrapped his arms around his wife as they watched the document that had almost ended their marriage turn to ash by the fire.

  He couldn’t be sure it was the beer, or the thought of how close they had come to destroying their marriage, but he felt, as much as heard, Savannah start to cry.

  “Hey...” Still holding her, he bent his head down to look at her face.

  Savannah clutched the front of his shirt, the tears from her eyes leaving wet blotches on a favorite button-down.

  “We almost lost everything,” his wife whispered.

  He kissed the top of her head, holding her even more tightly against his body.

  “But we didn’t,” he reassured her. “We’re here. Together. Stronger than ever. Aren’t we?”

  She nodded.

  Bruce turned her in his arms, held her away from him, his hands on her shoulders.

  “I don’t know why I deserve this second chance with you, my love. How did I get so lucky?”

  “We both got that second chance.”

  Bruce looked away, taking a moment to collect his emotions. He looked back to his wife, his eyes taking in the features of the face he loved so much. “I can’t seem to forgive myself.”

  He swallowed hard. “Sammy...”

  Instead of pulling away, Savannah stepped closer to him, wrapped her arms around him and held him as tightly as he had held her.

  “You have to forgive yourself, Bruce. You loved our son. You loved him.”

  Bruce rubbed fresh tears out of his eyes. “I miss him. I miss him so much it feels like I can’t breathe from it.”

  Savannah leaned back, put her hand over his heart. “Forgive yourself, Bruce. So we can move on. Forgive yourself—as I have forgiven you.”

  “Thank you, my love.” He took her face in his hands and kissed her lips. “Thank you.”

  * * *

  The symbolic burning of their divorce papers was a turning point, a large step forward, in the healing of their relationship. It wasn’t perfect, but what marriage was? They had begun to move out of that blissful honeymoon phase, where making love was top on the priority list, and spats were infrequent. Now, it seemed that they were solidly back into the marriage, filled with mundane tasks such as laundry and paying bills and getting the dogs to the vet. They argued more now, but not fights worthy of note. And, they never went to bed mad; they never left a disagreement lingering until the next morning. For Savannah, it was like having her marriage back—just a little bit better, a little bit stronger.

  “Good morning, Lilly,” Savannah greeted her mother-in-law when she reached the top of the stairs leading up to Lilly’s craft loft.

  Lilly stood up, hugged her and kissed her on both of her cheeks. “It is a beautiful morning.”

  Savannah sat down in a chair next to Lilly’s crafting table.

  “How are the vow renewal plans coming along?” Lilly asked, her fingers nimbly beading a bracelet as she carried on the conversation.

  “Great so far.”

  They had both agreed that they wanted to renew their vows at Story Mansion. They had their first ceremony at Sugar Creek; it had been blue skies and gentle breezes, mountains in the background. They had a lovely souvenir wedding album that they both enjoyed. This time, they wanted something totally different, and they both agreed that getting married at the place where they had first fallen in love was that place.

  “We’re going to have the ceremony at Story Mansion—I’ve already booked the date.”

  “What date did you choose?”

  “Sammy’s birthday.”

  Lilly looked up from her beading. “That will be a blessing.”

  “We were worried that some of our family and friends wouldn’t understand why we wanted to do that, but in the end, it’s really about us. And we want Sammy to
be a big part of that day.”

  “As he should be.”

  “Do you think that Jock will agree to having a reception here at the main house?”

  “Yes, I think so.” Lilly nodded. “You are one of his two favored daughters.”

  Savannah smiled at that. Jock was such a hard man, a difficult man and a flawed man who did not always have the respect of his children. But for some unknown reason she wasn’t about to spend too much time questioning, Jock adored her. And he was always kind to her.

  “And what shall you wear?”

  “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

  She had married Bruce in a simple A-line white lace wedding dress with cap sleeves. She had loved her dress, but in keeping with the “change” theme of their vow renewal, Savannah wanted to wear a dress that was unique, and unusual, and totally unexpected. That was her marriage to Bruce in a nutshell.

  “Would you consider making my vow renewal dress?”

  Lilly’s hands stilled. “You want me to make your dress?”

  “I’d like a dress that no one else has ever had. I was thinking of a cross between an American traditional wedding dress and a traditional Chippewa-Cree jingle dress.” Savannah lifted her hand. “But only if it wouldn’t be considered disrespectful to your tribe.”

  A jingle dress was a powwow ceremonial sheath, typically made from vibrant-colored fabric, and decorated with rows of shells, metal cones and ornate beading. Savannah had often admired Lilly’s ceremonial jingle dresses; it was in her heart to marry Bruce in an outfit influenced by the beauty and symbolism of a jingle dress. Jingle dresses, also called prayer dresses, were considered to be healing garments, and for Savannah, the vow renewal was all about the healing of her marriage.

  “I would be so happy to make this dress for you.”

  Savannah scrolled through some images on her phone and showed one to Lilly. “I think this jingle dress could be made to look like a wedding dress.”

  Lilly began to sketch some ideas for her daughter-in-law; it amazed Savannah how easily the idea for a dress materialized on Lilly’s sketch pad.