by Jo Willow
“Together mom? Can we go upstairs together?”
Some guy in an Armani suit with perfect hair clapped his hands twice and everyone came to attention. Pierce leaned over and whispered, “the wedding planner”. We had a wedding planner? Why was I not informed? What was said planner’s name? Did I really give two figs? No, probably not. Carry on.
See how easy going I’ve become? I had bigger news. This trivial stuff could slide by the wayside for all I cared.
“Where’s the minister?”
Father Colby stepped forward. He was some kind of friend of the Sloan’s and he seemed likable enough. The planner put him at the top of the back porch steps. There were two steps and then the porch. All of us would stand in a big flower oval on the ground, while the Preacher took the high ground (so to speak). The photographer thought it would make for excellent wedding pictures. I suggested that Deacon and I ride in on a couple of cows. That would make wicked wedding pictures too. Deacon was the only one that smiled.
In case you’re thinking that I wasn’t taking our wedding seriously, you’re wrong. I took it very seriously. The actually ceremony part anyway. The rest of it was merely fluff for the spectators as far as I was concerned, and I didn’t care if I got married in jeans or a diamond encrusted gown. As long as we recited vows, exchanged rings, and became “The Sloans”, I didn’t care.
We made it through the rehearsal with only one glitch. Nobody gave any thought to where we’d enter from. If the minister was standing on the porch, we couldn’t walk out the door now could we? If we went out the front door and walked around the house, we’d be walking through gravel in platforms. Not the best idea in my condition, but I didn’t say that.
Finally when they’d tried and eliminated every possibility, I raised my hand. The answer was staring them in the face and they were blowing it off. My mother narrowed her eyes at me, but allowed me to speak. After all, it was my wedding.
“Yes Dorothy?”
“How about the barn? We could walk from the barn.”
Grant judged the distance and smiled at me.
“A hundred chairs will come fairly close to the barn door anyway, the girl has a point. The reception tent is gonna be in the pasture, so we’ll already have carpet runners all over the place. I think Dor’s got a crackin’ idea!”
Melody found her voice.
“You want us, to stand in a filthy barn in designer dresses?”
I turned on her. I was tired of her nasty mood and her trouble making ways. This was my wedding and I didn’t need any Debbie-Downers spoiling my day.
“We won’t be milking the cows before we walk the aisle Mel’. All you have to do is stand there and walk on cue. Now shut the hell up and listen.”
She wasn’t happy, but she did as she was told. The rest of the rehearsal went off without a hitch.
I barely slept at all that night. We had an incredible barbecue and everyone else drank, and we danced. We crawled into bed around one o’clock. Mel’ and Ayla went right to sleep, but I tossed and turned until around four o’clock and then I fell into a fitful sleep until the alarm rang at eight.
The next several hours were spent in preparation. I wasn’t allowed to leave the room because I wasn’t allowed to see Deacon, the one person I needed to see. I’d thought about it all night and I wanted him to know before the ceremony. I didn’t want to keep it from him any longer. If I sprang it on him as a wedding gift, then other people would find out at the same time and this was something that was private.
I used my cell phone and he answered right away.
“Babe? Are you okay?”
“Deacon I need to see you before the ceremony. It’s important.”
“You’re not breaking up with me now are you? The cake alone is worth the wedding, Dor’. You should see it.”
“Deke, I’m not breaking up with you, but I need about ten minutes with you, alone.”
“I’m not sure how we’ll pull that off Dor’. There’s at least sixty people milling about, between the caterers and florists and wait staff. This could be tricky.”
“Tell you what. I’m dressed and ready, I’m just hangin’ out. I’ll go on out to the barn. Meet me there. They’ll never look for us there.”
“Okay if you’re sure it can’t wait. Go on out and I’ll be out in a few minutes.”
I’d placed the two pregnancy tests in a Mont Blanc pen box and wrapped it in gold paper. A gold satin bow sat on top. I grabbed the gift and walked confidently through the house and out the backdoor. No one tried to stop me. I could see that the guests had started to arrive, but I moved straight past everyone and into the barn without slowing for a second.
I paced a ten foot path until the door opened and there he was. The love of my life looking like Prince Charming in his black suit and starched white shirt, a yellow rosebud in his lapel.
“Dor’? You okay?”
I walked to him with the gift behind my back and a smile on my face. He looked confused, but he smiled back. When I was standing directly in front of him, I extended my hand.
“A gift? Sweetheart, we don’t exchange gifts until after the ceremony.”
“This gift is special Deacon. It’s private.”
He began to carefully remove the paper.
“Well now I’m intrigued for sure.”
When the box was exposed, he saw the insignia and smiled.
“I love Mont Blanc pens Dorothy. Thank-you.”
“Deacon, it’s a Mont Blanc box. There’s no pen in that box. Open it.”
I could tell he was nervous. He was nervous because he could see that I was nervous.
He carefully opened the box and stared at what lay nestled side by side inside. His brow furrowed for a second as if he didn’t comprehend what he was looking at. When his axis shifted, I witnessed it and I was glad I’d chosen to do this when we were alone.
“Baby, are these what I think they are?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Then we’re having a...”
“Just like you said Deacon. Sometime in May.”
Complete silence engulfed us for all of about two minutes as we gazed into each other’s eyes. We were standing in a barn behind his parent’s house about to get married, and it was our first confirmed moment as future parents together.
I smiled at him and it broke his trance. He lifted me in his arms and twirled me around while I laughed out loud.
“Dor’? We’re havin’ a baby.”
“Yes we are and I can’t wait!”
He stopped twirling but kept me off the ground at face level.
“You mean it don’t you? You’re not just saying that for me?”
I kissed him soundly.
“I mean it with all my heart. Sometime in May, I’m going to hand you your very own son or daughter Deacon Sloan. Our son or daughter. I am so excited about that, I want to shout it from the rafters.”
Neither one of us heard our names being called. We were wrapped up in our own little world of wedding vows and baby names. I finally knew what euphoric felt like, and I was enjoying it.
Deacon still held me in his arms, his forearms tucked under my bottom to hold me in place, my arms wrapped around his shoulders. We were grinning like fools and he was heading for the door.
Now I think he was planning to carry me back in the house, but we’ll never know. Because just as we were approaching the door, my sister was opening it and Ayla was right behind her.
Deacon kept right on walking and the music was playing. People were for the most part in their seats and watching us as Deacon carried me down the aisle, my sister and Ayla running to try and get in front of him. My poor father looked entirely misplaced since he was planning to walk me down the aisle. Instead, he followed us and grinned at me over Deacon’s shoulder. I grinned back.
When we got to the porch steps, Deacon placed me gently on my feet and in a moment of weakness, he patted my tummy.
He may as well have held up a sign. The half of the audie
nce that saw the gesture, gasped. My father slapped him on the back in some male bonding thing and Anton and Pierce shook hands as if they’d had something to do with it.
I stood there turning various shades of pink. When Deacon finally made eye contact with me again, I glared and he tugged at his collar and turned to the Preacher.
Father Colby kept his cool and performed a moving and memorable ceremony. There wasn’t a dry eye in the house. At the end, he said the traditional, “May I introduce Mr. and Mrs. Deacon Sloan”. That rat bastard Anton yelled out, “And baby Sloan too!”.
Guess what the top of conversation was at the reception?
Eight Months Later...
I’m sitting here ready to pop. We’ve prepped the nursery, took the classes, and we’ve rehearsed the trip to the hospital a bazillion times. I could walk it in my sleep. If I thought it would bring her here sooner, I’d try it.
Yes it’s a girl. Catherine Bree Sloan will be here by the time this book is published. Her father is a millionaire CEO and her mother is a best selling author. She’ll know us as Mom and Dad.
Someday she’ll read this and she’ll know the first part of her story. She’ll know how much she was wanted and how crazy her family is. She’ll understand how love really can conquer all - including fear - and how important it is to stick with it when it’s real. Real love is rare and it’s a gift. She’ll know all about that too. We’ll make sure of it.
Because I’m Dorothy Lincoln-Sloan, and I’m a biographer.
THE END