Wedding Dreams

by Kallypso Masters

  “Bacio!” one of her Sicilian relatives shouted.

  Marc leaned down to capture her lips in a kiss that made her toes curl, but it was broken off too soon. Angelina looked up to see Rafe standing behind him, cutting in. Tears sprang to her eyes when the opening strains of “I Wish You Love,” one of Papa’s favorite Dean Martin tunes, began to play. She hadn’t selected it, fearful it might leave her a blubbering mess, just as it almost had when someone’s ringtone played it during her processional. Had Rafe chosen it ahead of time or only after seeing how much it meant to her earlier today?

  Rafe was sweet for wanting to do the father-daughter dance with her, but she’d intended to skip that part of the rituals tonight. Her heart hurt too much, and there could be no substitute for Papa.

  But before she could decline his invitation to dance, Marc kissed her cheek and stepped back, extending her hand to her oldest brother. While she wouldn’t be dancing with Papa tonight, she decided to pretend and let his memory surround her heart with warmth.

  Angelina’s cheeks were wet by the time she laid her head against Rafe’s shoulder. “Papa’s here,” he whispered. “Can you feel him?”

  She nodded, unable to speak at first, but she cleared her throat after a moment and gained her composure. “I’ve felt him all day.”

  “Remember, I’m just a stand-in tonight. Let the music and words move through you while thinking about Papa.”

  They glided around the dance floor, and she pretended she was dancing with Papa again. Suddenly, her father’s voice came through the speakers. “Here’s my beautiful angel.” Her mind flashed back to a Christmas school pageant in which she’d been dressed as one of the angels. Papa had been recording the event on his enormous VHS video recorder. She pulled away to meet Rafe’s gaze with both wonder and confusion. Clearly, he’d planned this well in advance.

  “Just listen, baby.” He resumed the dance steps, pulling her against him once more so that she couldn’t see his face and could better imagine Papa. Overcome with emotion, she squeezed him to her and listened as Papa’s voice mingled with the song’s lyrics. “Look at how beautiful my little angel dances.” Mama had videotaped Papa’s dance lessons as he prepared her for her first school dance. She’d been a clumsy mess, but Papa never saw mistakes in anything Angelina had ever done.

  Rafe stopped. Her eyes brimmed with tears. She hated for this moment to come to an end, but then she saw her second-oldest brother waiting to cut in and continue the dance.

  “Allow me,” Franco said. Without a word, she moved into his arms.

  Papa’s voice kept coming through the speakers. “I might not always be with you, Angelina mia, but I’ll be forever in your heart.” She didn’t recall a memory to match up to those words. It was almost as if he’d truly broken through the veil and joined them here tonight.

  Matteo cut in next, and the song changed to “Return to Me.” If only Papa could. It had been nine years last month since he’d been taken away from them. “You’ll always be Papa’s little girl,” Matteo said.

  She nodded. “I miss him so much.”

  “I know, sweetie. We all do.”

  He held her closer as they floated around the dance floor. Papa said, “You’re so beautiful, Angelina.” He told her that almost every day. “I love you, sweetheart.”

  Just when she thought she’d become a blubbering mess as her grief and longing hit full force, the tempo of the music changed to the rapid beat of “Sway” as Tony cut in.

  “Let’s show ’em some more of the moves Papa taught you,” he whispered. Leave it to Tony to lift her spirits. He always did.

  While she’d struggled with the rumba all those years ago, when she closed her eyes and pictured Papa spinning her around the dance floor, her feet miraculously did what they were supposed to do. As if possessed, in her mind’s eye at least, she nailed it. The beat pounded through her, and she laughed with exuberance as they executed the rapid footwork before he lowered her in a graceful dip at the finale.

  She opened her eyes to find Tony grinning down at her. He set her back on her feet just as Marc came to reclaim her.

  “You’re amazing to watch, cara. I had no idea you could dance like that.”

  She laughed, a sparkle in her eyes. “Neither did I! I was inspired by Papa.” Her melancholy mood from the beginning of the dance had been replaced by one of so much joy.

  He framed her upturned face and lowered his mouth to hers for a tender kiss. “Your brothers are amazing to do that for you.”

  “Yes, they are!”

  Angelina broke away and hugged each brother in turn, thanking them for such a heartwarming gift.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Somewhat thrown off the game plan, Angelina turned to Mama to see what was supposed to happen next. Mama motioned for Angelina to escort Marc to his mama.

  At her husband’s side, before Angelina could tell him where he needed to be, he asked, “How much longer do we have to stay here?” he whispered, nibbling her earlobe. “I want you in my bed as soon as possible.”

  She shook her head. “Hang on a little while longer, lover boy. We’ll be here until the bitter end. Now, you need to dance with Mama D.”

  “I’d rather dance with you,” he said only loud enough for her to hear as he placed a string of kisses down the column of her neck, but she cut him short by pulling away and facing him. “Go! She’s waiting.” She pushed him in her direction.

  “Yes, cara.”

  She went over to the band and told them it was time to play the song he’d chosen for his dance with his mama.

  They’d listened to dozens of songs in the past few months, searching for the one to best express what Marc had to convey to Mama D’Alessio. He’d had tears in his eyes the moment this one played on YouTube, signaling they’d found the perfect song. Angelina got goosebumps as the violins began to play the haunting melody to “You Raise Me Up.”

  Watching him dance with Mama D’Alessio filled Angelina with emotion. This woman had indeed raised him up to stand on mountains and walk on stormy seas, even though in his early years she’d had to give him to another to raise. It warmed Angelina’s heart knowing he’d finally come to accept the circumstances of his birth and the woman who had sacrificed so much of herself to give him a good life. Uncovering the truth had nearly cost Marc his sanity, but in the end, the tumultuous journey had brought him closer than ever to his parents.

  As the music ended, Marc placed a kiss on both of Mama’s tearstained cheeks before Papa tapped him on the shoulder to cut in. Marc gave the man who’d raised him a hug before extending Mama’s hand to him as other couples converged on the dance floor.

  Thankfully, the emotionally charged traditional wedding dances were behind them, and they could move into more playful dancing. Over the next half hour, she danced with Papa D’Alessio, Sandro, and even did some boot-scooting boogieing with Luke. Marc was kept busy as well dancing with her mama, Carmella, and Cassie.

  While taking a break to grab a glass of water, Angelina thought about what was still to come tonight when those willing and able would dance the tarantella. While Marc’s family was northern Italian, Angelina had been taught the conga-line-like dance by Nonna. Her grandmother and her Sicilian-born siblings and cousins had grown up with the traditional dance. When the time came, Angelina would picture Nonna among the guests as they executed the joyful steps at her wedding reception.

  “May I have this dance?”

  Angelina turned to find Adam standing there, as dashing as ever in his dress blues, but still oh so intimidating. This man was such an important part of Marc’s life, but Angelina never thought she measured up in his eyes.

  Don’t let him think you’re afraid of him.

  Accepting his hand, she said with false bravado, “Of course!”

  The band’s female vocalist came up to the mic and began singing “I’ll Be There.” Her delivery rivaled Mariah Carey’s rendition that Angelina adored.

  “I’ve never seen
Marc as happy as he’s been since you guys got back from Italy last year.”

  They’d gotten engaged on the flight home. So much of her world had been altered by that moment. “He’s brought me a lot of joy, too.”

  “Not that he didn’t put you through a lot of shit to get there.”

  She laughed aloud, surprised at this turn of events. “I won’t disagree with you there.” She sobered. “But Marc’s a good man, despite his flaws.” And insecurities. “And he’s the only man I can see myself spending the rest of my life with.”

  Adam nodded. “None of us have given our girls an easy time of it.” He glanced to her left to where she saw Marc and Karla dancing before returning his focus on Angelina. “But I knew you were the one for him long before he got his head out…opened his eyes.”

  “Really? When was that?”

  “The night you came barging into the dungeon demanding to see him during that interrogation scene from hell.”

  She couldn’t prevent the shudder from going through her body at the memory of that horrific day. He’d looked so broken, body and soul.

  Returning to the conversation, she said, “I got the distinct impression you were more than a little pissed at me for showing up uninvited.”

  He laughed. “Damn right, I was.” His smile faded. “But if you hadn’t been able to understand his childish Italian gibberish, I’m not sure we’d have known what was going on with him. And Lord knows my skills at aftercare would have been sorry in comparison to yours. You two are just made for each other, even if it did take him a while to figure it out.”

  Having Adam’s approval and vote of confidence made her eyes sting. “Thank you.”

  “I also wanted to commend you for supporting him in his decision to become an EMT. He was a damn good corpsman, and I know he’s going to make a difference serving his community this way.”

  “He already has. Did he tell you he started training to become a paramedic?” Adam nodded. “He has about two more semesters of classes to go, but I’m thrilled that he’s found his calling.”

  “Now’s the time to do it, before any little D’Alessios show up. Believe me, they will tie you both down more than you can imagine.”

  She knew Adam wouldn’t change a thing about his triplets.

  “I’m sure. And coming from a firefighting family, I know what the job entails for family members. Just like military spouses having to watch loved ones go into dangerous situations, I’m not going to say it’s been easy. But I know he and my brothers train hard and take every precaution to give them the best chance to return home after each shift.”

  Not that they could control every situation. Papa had trained hard, too, and served for many years. There were no guarantees in life. But she didn’t want to dwell on anything negative tonight.

  When the music came to an end, Adam seemed reluctant to part just yet. She waited for him to say what else was on his mind. After a few moments, he did.

  “Angelina, you’ve earned your spot in my extended family. Hell, I’d have welcomed you with or without being Marc’s woman—just for teaching Karla how to cook.” She giggled, appreciating that he’d broken the tension. “If you ever need anything—and I do mean anything—you can come to me.”

  “Thanks so much, Adam.”

  “But I’m glad I have you on duty to watch over that moody Italian of yours. Just keep loving him the way you have so far. You’re going to make a huge impact on his life for decades to come.”

  “And he on mine.”

  Adam bent to kiss her on the cheek, and this time the tears didn’t stay contained. To be welcomed into Adam’s Masters at Arms Club family, not to mention his military one, meant the world to her.

  “Thank you, Adam, for bringing him back from Iraq and giving him a new purpose in life. Knowing you’ll have both our backs is so reassuring.”

  The future looked bright for her and Marc. They’d each found their professional calling, and despite busy days apart, they always fell into each other’s arms at the doorway each night. In a few years, they would welcome a passel of children into their happy union. God willing. Angelina sometimes wondered how she hadn’t gotten pregnant already, given how many times they’d been careless about protection, but she probably had an angel on her shoulder making sure the timing would be right—once they were more established in their new careers.

  “What are you grinning about?” Marc asked her as she watched Adam return to Karla’s side and escort her back to their table.

  “Just thinking about something Adam said to me.”

  He narrowed his gaze. “Are you two plotting against me?”

  She giggled. “No! Of course not.”

  Marc leaned closer and whispered, “The only thing I want you plotting is our escape from this reception so we can start the honeymoon phase.”

  “It won’t be much longer, sweetheart.” She scanned the room trying to think what came next then turned back to him. “You still haven’t told me where we’re going.”

  “A man has to keep his wife guessing to keep the spark alive.”

  “Oh, I have no doubt in my mind that we are going to have plenty of spark for the next seventy years, give or take a decade or two.”

  “Don’t keep me guessing. What’s next on the agenda?”

  “Greeting our guests at each table and sharing the trays of cookies Mama and I baked.”

  “Let’s do it.”

  Drawing Marc to the cookie-covered table in the corner, Angelina noted where the small drawstring bags had been placed for guests to take a few extra cookies home. A white Victorian birdcage in the corner had been stuffed with cards, Angelina’s answer to Mama’s wanting them to go around at the reception carrying a satin purse to collect cash gifts or, worse yet, do the embarrassing money dance.

  However, Angelina had poured her heart and soul into cookie baking, because she didn’t want to leave out any of their families’ food-oriented traditions. She and Mama had spent days in Mama’s kitchen making hundreds of Florentine lace, pignoli, and iced anise-flavored cookies.

  Marc picked up one tray of the assorted family favorites and she another before making their way to their guests. They stopped first at the table where the Orlandos, Dentons, Pippa, Dr. Mac, Rosa, and her children were seated. Marisol and José had been allowed to stay up late to enjoy the party. Marisol looked so grown up. Glittery sparkles had been scattered in her upswept hair giving her a fairylike appearance.

  “You’re the prettiest bride since Maman,” Marisol told her.

  Angelina smiled. “That’s a very high compliment. Thank you. And you look like a fairy princess.” Marisol beamed as her daddy patted her shoulder, smiling down at his daughter with so much pride and joy. Angelina could imagine Damián and Savannah picturing her quinceañera. Even though her fifteenth birthday was six years off, she was growing up so fast.

  “Would you like some cookies?” she asked Marisol, remembering the other reason why she was making the rounds. “My mama and I baked them just for our guests.” After explaining what was in each of them, more or less, Marisol filled her plate with one of each and the adults followed suit.

  Angelina noticed Savannah looked more at peace now that the trial was behind her. She patted the back of her healthy baby boy, J.D., after having fed him recently. After all the woman had been through in her life, she’d earned a long patch of smooth sailing for a change.

  “Everything has been so beautiful,” Savannah said. “My wish for you both is that today is the beginning of a life filled with happiness, love, and adventure.”

  “Thank you, cara,” Marc said, smiling down at Angelina. “With this woman by my side, we’re in for quite an adventure.”

  Angelina laughed. “But one we both welcome.”

  “Agreed,” he said.

  At the next table were the Montagues, Grant, Gunnar, and Sergeant Miller’s widow, three children, and her new husband. This was the first time Angelina had a chance to chat with Claire or to meet h
er kids.

  “Congratulations, Marc and Angelina. What a beautiful wedding,” she said, smiling at them.

  “I hear congratulations also are in order for you and Tyler as well,” Angelina said.

  The love shining from Claire’s face as she smiled at her husband of just a few months must give Adam and the others who served with the sergeant great joy and a sense of well-being, knowing she’d found love again after losing her husband in Iraq.

  “They’ll be staying with us for the coming week,” Adam said, “while Tracy gets a sneak peek at the University of Denver before classes start in August.” She’d seen Tracy was hanging out with Teresa Espinosa, Damián’s niece. The two were about the same age and might even become friends while living in Denver.

  “Just knowing there will be members of our Marine family close by when my baby is so far from home puts my heart at ease.”

  “Don’t you worry, Claire,” Adam said. “Damián and I are usually here in town. If not, one of the agents in my security firm will be available. We’ll keep an eye on her and make sure she knows all our phone numbers.”

  After doing her spiel about the cookies and making sure everyone had taken plenty of samples, she added, “Be sure to go to the cookie table before you leave and fill up bags of your favorites to take home.”

  Marc and Angelina thanked Adam and Karla again for being such an important part of their wedding day before moving on. It took them nearly an hour to go to every table, after returning to the cookie table to restock numerous times, but at last, they’d thanked everyone. Marc placed a kiss at the place where her neck and shoulder met.

  Her breath caught in her chest. “Why don’t we move on to cutting the cake and up our departure time a little?”

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  * * *

  While Marc showed restraint when it came to feeding Angelina the cake, she was not so inclined and smashed the amaretto-flavored piece against his lips and chin. For that, she would pay—but not until they were in their honeymoon suite tonight. He’d have her covered in cake by midnight—and would lick each and every bite off of her.