by Lesley Crewe
“What?”
“There are gowns in your trunk. Remember that one you wore when you played Guinevere? It’s made to fit and it looked divine on you.”
She clapped her hands. “You’re right, it’s perfect.”
She didn’t want to leave the poor sales lady without taking some–thing, so she bought some satin high heels. Then it was off the florist to order the flowers and, once again, the gang finished off their day with a great lunch.
The day of the wedding, everyone was up at the crack of dawn. There were a million things to do and it was Grand Central Station for a while. They were to be married in the small United Church in Albert Bridge, which overlooked the Mira River, with a potluck supper at the Albert Bridge Fire Hall afterwards.
The food was taken over by the carloads throughout the day by husbands and brothers. Most of the MacKinnon women hadn’t seen the fire hall. Colleen called Aunt Vi and asked if she and her friends could decorate it, to help them out. Aunt Vi whispered to Libby, “God love her. It makes her feel included.”
Maurice chased Aunt Vi around the house until she finally agreed to sit for him and have her hair done. He patted her head. “Aunt Vi, what am I going to do with you? This cast-iron hair has to go.”
“Go where?”
“Anywhere! Just not on your head.”
When he was done, she said, “Hand me a mirror.” He did. She looked at herself and didn’t say a word. Then she looked at her rela–tives. “What do you think?”
No one said anything. Finally Libby blurted, “Sorry, Maurice. It’s lovely, but it’s not Aunt Vi.”
Aunt Vi handed Maurice the mirror. “Just as I thought. If anyone wants me, I’ll be in the shower.” With that, she limped upstairs.
Maurice and Harold looked heartbroken. Rose walked over to them. “Cheer up, girls. One out of ten ain’t bad.”
Because Uncle Angus was giving her away, Libby’s oldest brother Johnnie was driving her to the church.
Everyone waited for her downstairs. Libby looked at herself in the bedroom mirror.
“Goodbye, Ava. Thank you for taking care of me when I needed you, but I don’t need you anymore. Wish me luck.” She smiled and blew a kiss at her reflection. She walked down the stairs and into the kitchen. There was a collective intake of breath.
Aunt Vi started to cry. “Oh, I wish your Ma could see you. What a pretty picture.”
Her dress was simple—a creamy colour with a small gold embroi–dered trim. It had a straight bodice across the top and flowing bell sleeves. It was tight to her body with a ‘V’ seam that started below her waist. The skirt fell full to the floor. She wore her hair down but the front was caught up and entwined with a coronet of white flowers. She carried a small bouquet of white and cream roses, tied up with ribbon.
“I’m ready.”
“Then let’s go,” Uncle Angus shouted. “I’m starvin’.”
There was a mass exodus of the clan down the back stairs. Geranium wasn’t in the window. She ran out of the house and joined the other guests. Johnnie stood by his pickup truck in a suit that he might have bought when he was eighteen. He looked about as comfortable as a boy on his first date. His white socks didn’t help.
He came forward and escorted her to the truck. “You look pretty. I washed the truck for you.”
“I see that. Thank you.”
“Couldn’t get the fishy smell out of it though.”
“It smells like you. Suits me fine.”
They drove in a convoy but Libby asked Johnnie to take her into the cemetery so she could show her mother the dress. The others con–tinued on. He stopped the truck and helped her out. The marker was very close to the road so she stepped on the edge of the grass and looked down at her mother’s name written in granite.
“Ma, it’s my wedding day. Seamus and I are finally together and I know you’ll be with me in church. Thank you for bringing me home. I love you.” She knelt down and touched her mother’s name, then turned around and smiled. “Let’s go, Johnnie, I’m starving too.”
When they pulled up to the church, Uncle Angus was there waiting with Lola and Colleen, who held Sarah’s hand. Sarah was the flower girl. She had on a sweet little white dress and a coronet of flowers in her hair too. She carried a basket of white rose petals.
Johnnie helped his sister out of the truck, kissed her and went inside the church. Colleen came over and hugged her. “You look beautiful.”
“Thank you.”
Colleen held her arms. “He’s so happy today. You should have seen him. And best of all, his in-laws are here, said they wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“That’s wonderful.”
“Okay, I’ll see you in there.” She knelt down by Sarah. “You do what Lola says, sweetie. When she says go, you walk up the aisle to–wards Daddy and scatter your petals, okay?”
“Yeah.” Sarah turned to Libby and held out her foot. “New shoes.”
Libby held out hers. “Me too.”
They went up the stairs and Colleen disappeared inside. Lola put Sarah in front of her, then turned around and looked at Libby. “This is the role you’ve waited for your whole life. Enjoy every moment.”
Libby shook her hand at her. “You’re going to make me cry. Stop it.”
“Don’t you dare look at me up there,” Lola said. “This isn’t water–proof mascara.” She turned around.
Uncle Angus took her arm and gave it a pat. “This is it. Are you ready?”
She hugged his arm. “I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life.”
The organ started to play the wedding march. Lola said, “Go, Sarah.”
Sarah walked ahead like a little pro. Everyone smiled and whis–pered at how sweet she was. She scattered her petals and only stopped three times to show people her new shoes.
Lola followed in a simple cream, knee-length dress with a wide gold satin ribbon around the waist. She carried a small bouquet of white rosebuds.
Then it was Libby’s turn. As she started up the aisle, she couldn’t believe all the people there. They’d only invited family and the place was packed. It took a moment to realize all these people were her family. How incredibly lucky she was.
And then she saw him.
Seamus stood there in his new dark suit with a blue satin tie. His best man, Jack, stood beside him wearing the same thing. He saw her and he smiled that smile of his and he never looked away from her. She realized she wasn’t going to cry and neither was he. There had been enough tears shed in their lifetimes. This was a happy day. Such a very happy day.
Besides, there were enough tears among the guests. She heard Aunt Vi wailing in the background, with Maurice and Harold a close second.
She was suddenly beside him and Uncle Angus kissed her. He placed her hand in Seamus’s hand and answered “I do” when the minister asked, “Who giveth away this woman to this man?”
She didn’t remember a word of it. She saw his smile and felt his hand in hers. But she did remember saying, “I, Elizabeth Ruby MacKinnon, take you, Seamus Duncan O’Reilly, to be my lawfully wedded husband.” And she heard him say loud and clear, “And I, Seamus Duncan O’Reilly, take you, Elizabeth Ruby MacKinnon, to be my lawfully wedded wife. Forever and ever and ever.”
Everyone laughed.
It was time for the ring. Jack searched in his left pocket and got a panicked look on his face. His father pointed to the right one. He produced it and shouted, “I found it!”
Seamus placed a wedding band on her finger and she placed one on his and they held each other’s hands as the minister said, “What God has joined together, let no man put asunder. You may kiss your bride.” And when he kissed her, the whole church erupted with applause and joyous shouts. They parted laughing. She turned around and kissed Lola, who looked like a raccoon thanks to her awful mascara, and then she grabbed Sarah’s hand and Seamus grabbed Jack’s and cried, “Come on, everybody. Let’s eat.”
They ran down the aisle as a family.
It was one heck of a party.
Libby and Seamus had a small glass of champagne and toasted themselves, but that was all. They were too excited to eat or drink. After a few happy hours with their loved ones, Seamus reached for her hand and they quietly slipped away as the celebration went on without them.
They weren’t going on a honeymoon. Libby’s refusal to leave the island was one problem and Seamus said since the rest of their lives were going to be one big honeymoon anyway, why bother?
They knew where they were going. They drove into his yard and left the car. It was a warm night so they walked down to the beach.
“Help,” she laughed. “I’m getting stuck. I’m punching holes in the grass.”
“Already, she’s a pain.” He went over, lifted her up on his back and piggy-backed her down to the beach. She let her heels fall into the grass. They sat on the log for a while, looking up at the full moon that shone on the water.
“I have something to give you,” Seamus said.
“Silly, I told you not to buy me anything.”
“I had it already.”
He dug in the sand.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting your present.”
“Yippee, a clam!” she laughed.
“Yeah, you wait,” he smirked.
He finally unearthed the small velvet box and handed it to her. She smiled and opened it but the paper fell out first. She unfolded it and looked at the picture. “Thank you. Did Sarah do this?”
“Yes, but look on the back.”
She turned it over. “Dearest Libby, I love you. Seamus. And in coloured pencil no less.” She smiled. “You’re sweet.” She leaned over to kiss him but he grabbed the box. “Hey, wait a minute.” He took the ring out of the box and knelt in front of her. “Mrs. Seamus Duncan O’Reilly, will you marry me?”
“Why, Mr. O’Reilly, I believe I already did.”
“I think you’re right.” He placed the diamond on her finger and she held it out for him to see. “It’s perfect.”
They looked at each other. She stood up, smiled, and then took off down the beach. He ran after her, but she was quick. She ran through the surf in her bare feet, holding up her gown. As she ran, he knew he’d seen this before. The night he saw her from his balcony. This was it, as if somewhere in time this moment had been foreseen and he’d been given a little glimpse, a small lifeline to hang onto.
He watched her in slow motion. She turned around, laughing at him, her beautiful blonde hair cascading down her back. That beauti–ful laugh he waited a whole lifetime for. She was like a dream and then suddenly she was very real.
“You can’t catch me.”
Of course he did, and she knew he would. He carried her up to the dunes and lay her down on the edge of the field. He got down beside her. She reached up and put her hands through his hair.
“I remember the scent of wild strawberries the night of our prom. Do you?”
He nodded.
“I love wild strawberries,” she whispered. “Almost as much as I love you.”
He kissed her then, and all he could remember afterwards was how soft her skin was, how sweet her mouth was, how stars and strawberries and the saltwater breeze made him drunk with desire. His breathing became ragged and he groaned with the wanting of her, and just before he fell over into that heavenly darkness, she said, “Don’t stop. Don’t ever, ever stop.”
Lesley Crewe is the author of Shoot Me (2006) and Relative Happiness (2005), which was shortlisted for the Margaret and John Savage First Book Award. Previously a freelance writer and columnist for Cape Bretoner Magazine, she currently writes a column for Cahoots online magazine. Born in Montreal, Lesley lives in Homeville, Nova Scotia.
www.lesleycrewe.com