“Mi’ja, your carriage awaits,” Ronaldo called out in a theatrical boom and tapped his silver-headed cane on the landau floor, causing the horses to prance some more until the postilion had them in check.
Her father wore a black tailcoat over a lavender vest embroidered with silver threads and black pants with a faint silver stripe. A tall pewter-colored top hat banded with a lavender ribbon sat jauntily on his head.
“He is quite a spectacle isn’t he?” Rake said, but the affection in his voice was obvious.
Ronaldo stepped down from the landau and helped Josephine up into the carriage. Then the footmen hopped to the ground and assisted Alberta and finally Zara, who were wearing gowns that Ronaldo had helped them find among those in the troupe’s collection of dresses. But she knew Ronaldo must have bought the gowns and snuck them in with the rest of the clothing, because they were clearly brand-new and fit the two women perfectly.
Ronaldo stared at Rake, as if questioning if he were joining them, but the other man waved him off. “This is Josephine’s special day. I’ll meet you back at the Regal Sol.”
She leveled one last glance of warm affection at Marcos’s father, and marveled when she realized that’s how she would always think of Rake now. He was no longer the exciting and dashing stranger who’d encouraged her to be brave and follow her dreams, nor the playfully enticing railroad tycoon to whom she’d surrendered her precious flower. Now he was just Rake, Marcos’s father. And more importantly, he was family.
Her father hopped back into the landau and took a seat beside her. With a rap of his cane on the floor of the carriage, he bellowed, “Please take us to the Regal Sol. My daughter is getting married today!”
Immediately the postilion slapped the reins against the horse’s flanks and they were off.
Martin grasped his hands together in front of him, nervously awaiting Josephine’s arrival.
He glanced toward the back, taking in all the bouquets of orange roses, poinciana flowers, and orchids that graced the end of each row of seats. Near the door, Francesca and Liana held similar bouquets, plus a larger one for Josephine.
A murmur rose up from the crowd near the back of the rotunda that Rake had graciously offered to Josephine and her family for the wedding. Alberta had wanted them to get married in a Catholic church but since Josephine had just had a baby out of wedlock with a married man, and he wasn’t Catholic, the Regal Sol seemed like an appropriate substitute. Especially since Father Juan would be there to provide the necessary holiness to the most blessed sacrament of marriage.
Martin’s heartbeat sped up, eager to see her, but only Ronaldo entered. At his arrival, the members of his troupe and Ronaldo’s other guests clapped. He waved at them regally and hurried toward where Martin waited.
“Are you ready, my friend?” Ronaldo asked.
Martin had asked himself that a thousand times in the last few days as the wedding preparations wound down. Was he ready to become an official father to little Marcos? As he glanced at Lucia holding the baby in the front row, he knew the answer to that question was a resounding yes.
Was he ready to spend the rest of his life with his dear Josephine?
“Martin? Are you having—what do they call them—cold toes?” Ronaldo asked, drawing him away from his thoughts.
No, he didn’t have cold feet. Not at all, he thought, and said, “I am more than ready to marry your daughter, Ronaldo.”
“I am glad, because I like you, Martin. I really like you and you will make a very good husband for my little girl.” Ronaldo theatrically gulped back a sob and sniffed. “Weddings make me very emotional.”
At that moment, Alberta and Zara came to the door of the rotunda and a heartfelt sigh escaped the man beside him. He snuck a quick peek at Ronaldo and noted the intensity of his gaze as it settled on Josephine’s mother.
“And what about you, my friend? Will there soon be nuptials in your future?”
Ronaldo smiled. “Remember what I told you that night in the saloon? The present will take care of the future, so for now, Zara and I will enjoy our time together and see where it leads.”
A louder murmur arose from the crowd as Francesca and Liana stepped outside.
Ronaldo wrapped an arm around him and said, “I think it’s time for me to get my daughter, Martin.”
Martin smiled and said, “Please do me a favor, Ronaldo.”
At that, Josephine’s father glanced at him, puzzled.
“Please don’t take too long.”
Martin couldn’t wait to get started on the rest of his life with his new wife and child.
Chapter Twenty
Josephine hugged Francesca and Liana as her two friends swarmed her when the footman helped her down from the landau parked at the door of the rotunda.
“You look beautiful,” they both said in unison and oohed and aahed over her grandmother’s gown, the satiny ribbons, and gleaming silver tiara.
“You both look lovely as well.” Her friends were wearing matching outfits in pale shades of lavender and although the color wasn’t traditional and should have clashed with the bright-colored tropical flowers in the bouquets, there were enough hints of purple and pink in the orchids to harmonize the hues.
Francesca handed her a larger floral arrangement with the same combination of flowers, and a second later, her father slipped back through the entry to the rotunda, his smile as bright as one of Mr. Edison’s lightbulbs. He stepped to her and took hold of both her hands. “Mi’ja, I am so happy for you.”
She smiled. “I am happy, too, Papi. I am so glad you could be here the last few months and for this very special event. It would not have been the same without you.”
With an accepting nod, he said, “No, it would not. But I plan on being here for many more such events, Josephine. Miami needs a theater where we can bring culture, such as myself, to the masses and showcase local talent, like my wonderful Zara. So if you don’t mind, I’ll be staying around a great deal longer.”
Joy suffused her at his revelation. Rising on tiptoes, she kissed his cheek and said, “I won’t mind at all, Papi. It will give us all a chance to get to know each other better.”
As they broke apart, Ronaldo sniffled and dabbed a handkerchief to the corner of his eye. Then he held his arm out. “If you are ready, Josephine.”
With a broad smile, she said, “I am.”
“Ladies.” Ronaldo directed her friends to the door of the rotunda and as they stood there, the chattering of the crowd was replaced by silence as an organist began to play. With that cue, Francesca took her first step down the aisle and, a few seconds later, Liana followed.
She was so excited, her heart was beating as if she’d run a race and her knees grew rubbery. Ronaldo offered support as they walked to the doorway together and watched her friends take the last few steps to the stage where Martin waited along with Father Juan from their local parish.
Martin, she thought, and though it hardly seemed possible, her heart beat even faster at the sight of him. He was dressed much like Ronaldo, every bit the gentleman, and so, so handsome. He’d cut his hair, and it was groomed back from his face with pomade, accenting the chiseled lines of his freshly shaven jaw. The black, silver, and lavender colors of his clothing made his eyes the color of the waters of Biscayne Bay in the early morning hours, just as a new day was about to begin.
Just as this is a new beginning for us, she thought, and as she peered down the aisle, it was as if the sun was rising where Martin stood, growing brighter and brighter. The light bathing him and Father Juan spilled down the aisle toward her, suffusing the entire room with its luminescence and calling her to start her new life.
With a subtle shift of his arm, Ronaldo urged her to take the first step down the aisle and the organist switched to the traditional wedding march.
As with everything Ronaldo, the march down the aisle was slow and theatrical, which was killing her since she was impatient to be with Martin and start their wedded lives together.
But the almost imperial march with her father allowed her to see the many people gathered there to celebrate with them. Members of his troupe and a number of her coworkers, like Mr. Adams. Family, some of whom had come from as far as New Jersey for the wedding. Even one lone representative of the Venezuela contingent who had sailed in just a day earlier. Lucia, holding little Marcos. Rake beside Penelope, which made her wonder if a reconciliation was maybe possible for the two. Rake deserved to find his happily ever after as well.
Martin’s parents, whom she’d only met for the first time a week earlier, sat at one side of the aisle along with a few of his other Ohio relatives, but not his brother who apparently wasn’t one to do much for family.
Zara and Alberta sat in the front row opposite Martin’s family. Her mami and abuela, tears gleaming in their eyes, looked so happy, and she was once again grateful that for family, for her, they would do anything.
Ronaldo stumbled a bit and when she looked at him, she realized that it was because all his attention had been on Zara, much as her mother’s gaze had shifted to stare at him longingly. She smiled and thought that another wedding would not be all that far off in the future.
A second later, Ronaldo turned to kiss her cheek and then guided her to where Martin waited by the makeshift altar on the stage, still bathed in the light of the rising sun of a new beginning.
As Martin watched her, his crystal-blue eyes shone as bright as diamonds and twinkled with joy. He grinned that quirky, lopsided grin that made her heart skip a beat, and she walked toward him without hesitation, confident in his love.
Ronaldo clasped Martin’s hand and then placed her hand in his. Her skin tingled and warmed as she twined her fingers with Martin’s.
“Embrace your future, Josephine,” her father whispered.
She smiled and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Papi.”
As Ronaldo stepped away and took a spot beside Zara, he slipped his hand into her mother’s, offering support.
Josephine glanced up at Martin. “Are you ready?”
“More than you can ever know.”
Together they took the final steps to the makeshift altar covered in pale lavender silk embroidered with Josephine’s and Martin’s initials. More flowers sat on either side of the altar, flanking Martin’s family Bible where Father Juan would record their union and in the future, the children they would have.
Father Juan strolled around the altar, stood before them, and raised his hands in greeting. “We welcome you all to witness the wedding of Josephine Galena Valencia and Martin Joseph Cadden, Jr. Let us begin…”
The priest asked her and Martin about their intention to marry and whether they consented freely and without reservation to enter into marriage. At their affirmative answers, he continued. “Since it is your intention to enter into the covenant of holy matrimony, please join your right hands, and declare your consent before God and His church.”
Josephine inhaled deeply before speaking her vows, wanting her voice to be sure and steady. “I, Josephine, take you, Martin, to be my husband. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honor you for all the days of my life or until death do us part.”
Martin’s hands shook in hers, and he heaved a huge sigh of relief. Then he recited his vows, his eyes shining wetly. “Yo, Martin, te tomo a ti, Josephine, como mi esposa. Prometo serte fiel en lo próspero y en lo adverso, en la salud y en la enfermedad. Amarte y respetarte todos los días de mi vida.”
Overwhelmed, Josephine’s heart clenched as he shot a sideways glance at Alberta, who was beaming from ear to ear. “Your abuela taught me,” he said with a wink.
Smiling, Father Juan raised his hands heavenward. “O Heavenly Father, we ask you to bless and consecrate this couple in their love for each other. What God has joined together, let no man put asunder.” After a pause, he asked, “Do you have the rings?”
Ronaldo popped up from his seat and rushed to the altar. “I, Ronaldo de la Sera, am the bearer of the rings.” With a flourish, he handed one to her and one to Martin. “Please continue,” he said with a bow and returned to his seat.
“Let us now exchange rings as a sign of your commitment to each other,” Father Juan intoned.
Josephine clasped Martin’s hand. “With this ring, I thee wed,” she said, and with a slight tremor, she slipped the simple gold band onto his ring finger. It seemed to gleam and sparkle with light as she placed it there.
Martin raised her hand. “With this ring, I thee wed,” he said and eased the ring onto her finger and, for good measure, lifted her hand to kiss the wedding band.
Oh my, oh my! Now comes the good part.
“Heavenly Father. Bless and consecrate this couple and the love they have for each other. It is my pleasure to now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
Martin wrapped his arm around her waist and drew her near, almost too slowly. Too patiently, and she was feeling anything but patient.
She met him halfway, kissing him. Opening her mouth on his as he deepened the kiss and dipped her—
He dipped her!
—pressing his body into hers as Ronaldo clapped loudly and shouted out happily, “I taught him that!”
They broke apart laughing and smiling, and kissed again, relishing the moment for which they’d been waiting for nearly three years.
As they walked down the aisle, the organist launched into a celebratory march and a choir made up of some of Ronaldo’s troupe began to sing, wishing them well. Urging them on to their new journey in life.
“Go, be blessed,” they sang. “Go, be immodest. Inappropriate,” she thought they sang as the hallelujahs in the chorus. She shook her head to make sure she’d heard right, but as she listened, the chorus of real hallelujahs resumed. Josephine smiled and walked toward her new life with her new husband.
Oh my gosh, it really happened! And now, just a little longer for the important moment they’ve also been waiting for!
Chapter Twenty-One
Dusk had started to fall by the time the reception was winding down, but Martin and Josephine were determined to spend their first night as husband and wife in their new home. Alone thankfully, since Rake, Lucia, and Penelope—yes, even Penelope—had agreed to watch Marcos with Zara, Alberta, and Ronaldo all staying in the hotel to offer support.
Luckily, their homestead was not far out of town, and the sun had just set when they turned down the lane to their new home. An immensely full harvest moon lit the way on the final quarter mile to where the large cottage sat amid the orange groves. The bright light beckoned them to the start of their new life together in their new home.
The main portion of the home with the kitchen, dining room, parlor, bathroom, and a bedroom was finished and partially furnished. In the next few months, as monies allowed, they would add on the other bedroom and nursery, as well as the room where she could write.
With help from some of his fellow Pinkertons and even Ronaldo—or rather, entertainment from Ronaldo, who had shown them how he had once played a carpenter in a skit—Martin had spent every spare moment working on their home. He’d had more time since the Sin Sombra case had gone cold with Sondra’s disappearance. It was believed she’d left the country, and they had yet to find any trace of where she might have gone. The Woman with No Shadow was truly a fitting moniker.
But the only shadow on Josephine’s mind right now was that of her new home glowing in welcome in the moonlight. “It’s so lovely,” she said as the carriage pulled up in front of their home.
“Not nearly as lovely as you,” Martin said and drew her close for a kiss that went on and on until the horse pawed the ground impatiently.
“Give me just a few minutes, my darling,” Martin said and quickly set about unhitching the horse and turning him loose in a nearby corral that he’d built. Being a farm boy at heart, he had also built a small barn and chicken coop.
Josephine had never pictured herself on a farm, but the i
dea of fresh eggs and milk held some appeal. But not as much appeal as the man swaggering toward her, a very sexy grin on his face and his gaze filled with the promise of what he planned for that night.
As he reached the carriage, he held out his hand to steady her as she rose and took the first step down, but then she found herself scooped up into his arms. She laughed as he whirled them around playfully before rushing to the door of their new home. He fumbled one-handedly for a moment with the lock, but then kicked the door open and strode over the threshold with her.
“Welcome to our new life, Mrs. Cadden,” he said and kissed her again.
They stood there, kissing, until Martin gently released her and let her slide down his body. There was no doubt he was more than ready for their first very special night together.
As they broke apart, Josephine cradled his jaw and skimmed her thumb across his cheekbone. Meeting his gaze, she said, “It seems like we’ve waited for this forever.”
Martin laid his forehead against hers and whispered, “I cannot wait any longer.”
He shut the door and twined his fingers with hers, creating warmth with that simple gesture. With a gentle tug, he urged her to the narrow hallway that led to their bedroom in the rear of the cottage. They nearly ran there, laughing again until they reached the bed and time seemed to stand still.
The faced each other, expectant, hesitant, and Josephine took the first step. She eased her hands beneath the lapels of his frock coat and slipped them upward to ease the jacket from his shoulders.
Martin grabbed the jacket and tossed it to the side while she hastily undid the buttons on his vest, her hands trembling and seemingly uncoordinated on the last couple of closures until with a chuckle, Martin ripped the vest open. Buttons flew off and pinged on the wooden floor.
She jerked off his tie and tugged his trouser braces down while Martin’s shirt met the same fate as the vest, fabric tearing and buttons flying until he stood before her bare-chested.
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