by Renee Ryan
“Dearly beloved, Jonathon Marc Hawkins and Francine Mary Mitchell have invited us to share in the celebration of their marriage.” He paused to smile at Fanny, then Jonathon. “We, your family and friends, come together not to mark the start of your relationship, but to recognize the bond that already exists.”
As the preacher continued, Fanny swiped surreptitiously at her eyes. Conflicting emotions rolled through her—joy and excitement, restlessness and anxiety. The combination made her stomach churn. She wasn’t afraid, precisely, but…all right, yes, she was afraid, a little. What if Jonathon didn’t come around to her way of thinking?
She didn’t regret agreeing to marry him. She loved him. But what if she couldn’t convince him to make their union real?
Fighting back a wave of panic, she swung her gaze up to meet his. Her breath caught in her throat. He was watching her with tender affection.
The sweet expression helped allay her fears.
She gave in to a smile. Something quite wonderful passed between them, something that nearly stole her breath again.
Biting back a sigh, she quickly focused her gaze again to the front of the church. She really needed to pay attention to the words of the ceremony. Both she and Jonathon were about to make lifelong promises to one another.
Per the pastor’s direction, her groom took her hand and repeated the first of their marriage vows. “I, Jonathon Marc Hawkins, take thee, Francine Mary Mitchell, to be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish till death do us part.”
His voice was strong, each word spoken with perfect diction. Fanny nearly believed he could love her.
She knew it would be unwise to allow her mind to wander toward something that could very well end in heartache.
Where there is life, my dear, there is always hope.
The preacher directed Fanny to repeat after him.
She did so with her chin high and her eyes locked with her groom’s. “I, Francine Mary Mitchell, take thee, Jonathon Marc Hawkins, to be my husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish till death do us part.”
As she made each pledge, Fanny knew she would keep every word. She would stick by Jonathon through each and every trial, no matter what joy or suffering lay ahead. She would work through any challenge with him—even if they had a child together.
Pastor Beau’s strong, steady voice broke through her thoughts. “Will you, Jonathon, have Fanny to be your wife? Will you love her, comfort and keep her, and forsaking all other, remain true to her as long as you both shall live?”
“I will.”
Fanny detected the confidence in his voice, the seriousness behind his vows. She also noted how Jonathon’s eyes gleamed with genuine affection. Surely, love was but a step away.
Pastor Beau shifted his stance and presented Fanny with the same questions he’d just asked of Jonathon.
She responded directly to her groom. “I will.”
Jonathon clasped her hand and squeezed gently.
Her world instantly became brighter.
Only when he pulled his hand away did she become aware of the preacher’s voice once again.
“Before this gathering, Jonathon and Fanny have professed their devotion. They will now give each other rings to wear as a sign of their deep commitment.”
Jonathon stretched out his hand to Marc, who passed him a pretty gold band. Eyes dark and serious, Jonathon took her hand in his.
“Fanny, I give you this ring as a symbol of our vows, and with all that I am, and all that I have, I honor you.” He slipped the gold band on her finger. “With this ring, I thee wed.”
Fanny looked over her shoulder at Callie. At the sight of her sister’s watery eyes, she felt her own fill. Firming her chin, she resolved to get through the rest of the ceremony without crying.
Callie handed over the ring Fanny had picked out for her groom weeks ago. She slipped it onto his finger and kept her hand over the band of gold.
“Jonathon, I give you this ring as a symbol of our vows, and with all that I am, and all that I have, I honor you. With this ring, I thee wed.”
He smiled, then leaned so close to her she thought he was going to kiss her before given the go-ahead. Instead, he whispered in her ear. “I promise to do right by you, Fanny.”
She treasured that final vow above all the others, because she knew he meant to keep his promise.
Everyone else faded away, leaving just the two of them.
“I’ll never leave you,” she whispered, not sure why she felt the need to say those words to him.
“Marriage is a gift from God,” Pastor Beau said, straying slightly from the traditional service. “Fanny, Jonathon, through the sacredness of your vows you have become one with one another and God. I urge you to honor your commitment the way the Lord intended from the beginning. Be fruitful and multiply.”
Be fruitful and multiply.
Prudent advice, straight out of the Word of God, and yet the words were like a dagger to Fanny’s heart. Feeling like a fraud, she lowered her gaze. When she lifted her head again, Jonathon’s eyes were different. He’d morphed into the stranger he’d once been, not the man she knew now.
The thought had barely materialized when the pastor continued with the ceremony.
“Let love rule your household,” he said. “Hold fast to what is good and right and true. Outdo one another in showing love and mercy. And…” He paused, gave a self-deprecating laugh. “I think that’s enough from this preacher for one day.”
The gathered guests joined in his laughter.
Fanny and Jonathon simply stared at one another, neither moving, both caught in a suspended moment of shared consternation.
Unaware of the tension between them, the pastor placed his hands on their shoulders. “It is with great honor that I declare you husband and wife. Jonathon, you may kiss your bride.”
Jonathon seemed to come back to himself at the pastor’s instruction. Gaze somber, he placed a palm on Fanny’s waist and drew her close.
Fanny wasn’t sure what she saw in his dark, intense eyes. But when his lips pressed against hers, all her doubts and fears disappeared.
*
To Jonathon’s way of thinking, this kiss with Fanny, their first as husband and wife, was filled with more emotion and feeling than all the others combined. He wanted to linger. Just a moment longer…
From a great distance, he heard Pastor Beau clear his throat, twice.
Slowly, reluctantly, Jonathon stepped back, away from Fanny, now his wife.
His wife.
By the sound of muffled snickering and actual hooting from a few of the Mitchell brothers, Jonathon figured he’d been a bit too enthusiastic with the obligatory kiss.
He gave Fanny an apologetic grimace.
She simply smiled. “Well done, Mr. Hawkins.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Hawkins.” He liked the sound of her new name rolling off his tongue.
Arm in arm, they turned and began their walk down the aisle.
Fanny’s mother beamed at them from her perch on the front pew. Her father gave him a nod of approval.
Smiling at the people who were now his family, Jonathon continued guiding Fanny down the aisle. Each step pulled them toward an uncertain future, one they would face together as husband and wife.
Jonathon didn’t know what awaited them in the days, weeks and years ahead, but he was determined to make their marriage a success.
At the back of the church, Fanny turned her face up to his.
She was so beautiful, so full of compassion and goodness. He wanted to believe all would turn out well.
But a sickening ball of dread knotted in the pit of his gut. He was going to let Fanny down, the truth of it as inevitable as snow falling in winter.
Smiling tenderly, Fanny touched his face. “I’m in this wi
th you fully, Jonathon. I’m not walking away or letting you go, no matter what you say or do. I believe in you. I believe in us.”
These were her real wedding vows, the ones that came straight from her heart. He had to blink to stop the tears in his eyes.
He wanted to be as confident as she, wanted to give her a similar pledge from the depth of his soul.
Overcome with emotion, and an unfamiliar surge of hope, he planted a tender kiss on the tip of her nose. “I’ll do everything in my power to be the husband you deserve.”
“I can’t ask for more.”
She should. She should ask for much more from him.
After a moment of basking in her goodness, her purity of heart, Jonathon looked out over the church still full of family and friends. “Please, everyone, join us back at the hotel and celebrate our marriage with us.”
Taking Fanny’s hand, he escorted her to the carriage waiting for them outside the church. He climbed in behind her. The carriage dipped and swayed as he settled in the seat across from her.
He smiled at his beautiful bride. “And so begins our adventure as husband and wife.”
“Not yet.” She took his hand and yanked him onto the cushions beside her. Snuggling against him, she released a happy sigh. “Now the adventure begins.”
Chapter Seventeen
The wedding reception lasted well into the evening hours. As they’d done for Mrs. Singletary’s charity ball, many of the wedding guests had reserved rooms in the hotel. Jonathon predicted a long night.
He stood away from the main crowd gathered in the grand ballroom. Shoulder propped against the wall, he was content to watch the festivities from a distance.
His gaze followed Fanny as she wove from one group of guests to the next. She moved with natural grace, fresh and poised as a delicate flower that had found a way to bloom in the dead of winter. She’d worked her way past his defenses and had taken up residence in the darkest portions of his heart.
Despite their unconventional route to the altar, Jonathon couldn’t say he was sorry to have Fanny for his wife. He felt more alive because of the vows he’d pledged to her, more awake, as if he were emerging from an unpleasant dream that had held him in its dark grip for far too long.
Already, after only a few hours with Fanny permanently united to him, the world made more sense. His footsteps were lighter, the air around him smelled sweeter and—
The air smelled sweeter?
Jonathon shook his head at the fanciful notion. Any more of this sappy introspection and he would find himself putting pen to paper in an effort to write verse in honor of his wife.
Him, a hardened street kid turned ruthless businessman, a worthy opponent in any fistfight, who’d maneuvered through every dark corner in the underbelly of Denver, had been reduced to poetic musings by a mere slip of a woman.
Then again, Fanny was no mere woman. She was confident and strong, bold and courageous, with a spine made of steel.
And now she was his wife.
Jonathon would share the rest of his life with Fanny Mitchell—no, Fanny Hawkins. By the grace of God, they would grow old together. An image of her in the distant future insinuated itself in his mind. She would be as beautiful to him in her dotage as she was to him now.
Jonathon would do anything—sacrifice everything—to make her happy. He adored her. He might even be in love with her.
Was he in love with Fanny?
It was too soon to tell. Definitely too soon.
Mouth tight, jaw clenched, he tried to calm his raging heartbeat. Sliding his gaze past Fanny helped.
The ballroom had a decidedly different feel for this party than the one hosted by Mrs. Singletary nearly a month ago. The atmosphere was more festive, while also being more relaxed.
Instead of elegantly dressed men and women twirling around the dance floor, people were gathered in small groups, talking, laughing and generally enjoying themselves.
But the most notable difference was the hordes of children in attendance. After a full day of being on their best behavior, many were growing tired of following the rules of decorum dictated by the adults. A few of the boys fidgeted, others tugged on their neck cloths. Some had already taken to poking each other.
Two of them began chasing a third boy in a circle; others soon joined them. A game of tag suddenly erupted in the center of the dance floor.
With a firm shake of his head, Jonathon alerted his hovering staff to let them play. The room was large enough to accommodate their antics without encroaching on the adult conversations.
Besides, the children’s laughter was infectious. Jonathon would like nothing more than to join them. It had been far too long since he’d indulged in a rousing game of tag.
A smile tugged at his lips.
“Now that’s the sight of a very happy groom. Does my heart good.”
Mrs. Mitchell’s pleased tone further improved his mood.
Smiling easier still, Jonathon pushed away from the wall. “How could I not be happy? I just married a woman nearly as beautiful as her mother.”
Mrs. Mitchell’s tinkle of laughter was its own reward.
“There is nothing I’d rather hear than flattery from a handsome young man, but my dear Mr. Hawkins—”
“Jonathon.”
“Jonathon.” She sent him a quick, lovely smile reminiscent of her daughter’s. “Why are you hovering in the shadows instead of joining in the festivities?”
He decided to be truthful. “You have a large, extended family, Mrs. Mitchell, and I am bit—”
“Overwhelmed by the vast quantities of us?”
He laughed.
“It’s not the numbers.” He’d lived surrounded by hordes of boys and girls at Charity House. “It is more that I find myself besieged with too many people in one room who play very different roles in my life.”
Her head tilted and she looked confused. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
He expelled a breath. “I have known some of the people in this room since childhood. A few are new friends, many are old. And then there is…your family.”
“Ah, now I understand.”
“Do you?” He hardly understood himself what he was trying to say.
“But of course. You don’t know where your new family fits into your very organized world. Everyone else has his or her place. The Mitchells do not. Adding to the confusion, there are…” she cast her gaze over the room “…quite a lot of us.”
To his amazement she’d described the situation perfectly. “You are a very wise woman, Mrs. Mitchell. I have half a mind to put you in charge of my entire hotel empire.”
“Tempting.” She gave him a friendly nudge with her shoulder. “But keeping track of my grandchildren is more than enough work for me.”
They shared a laugh, then turned as one to watch her grandchildren at play. One of Hunter’s kids, the youngest boy—Christopher?—noticed them staring. He shot in their direction, a blur of shaggy blond hair and fast pumping legs in a tiny black suit.
Jonathon barely had time to scoop up the boy before he could slam into his grandmother. “Whoa, little man, what’s the rush?”
Giggling, Christopher wiggled in his arms, then slapped Jonathon on the shoulder.
“Tag,” the little boy shouted, loudly enough to be heard on the top floor of the hotel. “You’re it.”
Jonathon set him back on the ground, leaned over and tapped the boy’s head. “Tag, you’re it.”
The kid blinked at him, once, twice, then a wide grin spread across his mouth.
“Okay.” He sped off to find another victim, arms flaying, shouting, “I’m it. I’m it.”
“You’re good with children,” Mrs. Mitchell noted.
Was he?
It’d been years since he’d spent any length of time around kids. Now that he thought about it, Jonathon decided he wasn’t so much good with children as he understood them. They wanted very little from adults. A sense of safety. Authenticity. Honesty. Things Jonath
on hadn’t experienced himself until he’d moved into Charity House.
“You clearly like being around little ones.”
Realizing he hadn’t responded to Mrs. Mitchell’s earlier comment, Jonathon nodded. “I suppose I do.”
If he understood children, if he liked them, perhaps he wouldn’t be such a terrible father, after all. Perhaps he might even make a decent one.
How would he ever know if he didn’t take the risk?
“No frowning on your wedding day,” Mrs. Mitchell scolded softly, patting his arm as Laney had done that morning. “The Mitchell brood isn’t as daunting as we first appear. And for the record, we are pleased to call you one of us.”
“Truly? But you hardly know me.”
“You make Fanny happy. That goes a long way to softening even the most skeptical members of my family.”
As if her words had the power to summon the “most skeptical,” Fanny’s brothers sauntered toward them. They each wore a version of the same stern, determined expression.
“Ah,” Mrs. Mitchell said, spotting the men mere seconds after Jonathon had. “Here come my three handsome boys.”
With a show of amused indulgence, Mrs. Mitchell greeted her sons by presenting her cheek to each of them. They each gave her a loud, smacking kiss. Then they swung their attention to Jonathon.
Deciding to take the first shot, er…lighten the mood, he lifted his hands in mock surrender. “No need to kiss my cheek. A handshake will do.”
All three men went stock-still for the length of a single eye blink. Hunter cracked a smile first, followed a half beat later by Logan and Garrett. Soon all three men were giving Jonathon hearty backslaps.
“Welcome to the family, Hawkins.” Hunter gave his shoulder a hard squeeze. “You already fit right in.”
Jonathon was surprised at how intensely pleased he was by the statement. He now had five brothers. These oldest three, plus the other two who were attending university back East.
Knowing how these men worked, having watched them interact with one another, Jonathon adopted a dry, ironic tone, and said, “Lucky me.”
Again, it was the exact right thing to say. All three Mitchell brothers laughed.