by Penny Reid
The ladies were huddled to one side, having knotted themselves in a tight circle around something of intense interest. I began to walk toward them, but Alex’s hand halted my progress. He wrapped his arm around me and held my hand hostage behind my back.
“Where are you going?”
“I want to see what they’re up to. It can’t be good,” I said.
His eyes followed mine, narrowed, and he released me. “Okay. Good luck.”
“So, Alex, do you knit or crochet?”
I heard Nico’s question as I walked away, and shook my head. Nico was likely looking to rope some other male into joining the knitting group. I doubted he’d get far with Alex.
Then again, if anyone can do it….
Most of the cold had vacated my bones. I gave myself a moment to glance around the dining room. It was set up for a wedding. An arched trellis covered in ivy and white star flowers—stephanotis—was positioned at the center of the panoramic window. Ten chairs were placed in a line, five on each side in front of the arch where guests would sit, facing us.
One long rectangular table was decorated with red roses, more stephanotis, and several bottles of champagne. It was actually quite nice.
Soft music played in the background. Pachelbel’s Canon in D emanated from a karaoke machine in the corner. I took note of it. It might come in handy later.
“Hey, ladies.” I stopped at the periphery of their circle and perceived some stiffening in posture. “What are you doing?”
Fiona turned, a smile plastered on her face, and drew me away from the others. “We’re just making some last minute arrangements. The captain will be here any minute. Is Alex all set? Is he okay with the plan?”
I nodded, though my gaze wandered to the circle of my friends as I was led to a far corner. “Yes. He seems to be. But, he can be…well, I’ve come to expect the unexpected.”
Fiona’s mouth hitched to the side and her eyes surveyed me with something like commiseration. “Welcome to marriage.” Then her smile fell a little. “Are you sure you’re going to be happy with this? It’s not too late.”
I reached for her hand, pressed it into mine. “Fiona, honestly, I couldn’t be happier. I really couldn’t. And I know this may showcase the fact that I need my head examined, but I can’t wait to do this. I love him so much.”
“I just want you to be sure, to be happy.”
“I know you warned me against him….”
“Oh,” Fiona interrupted with a sigh, glanced around the room. “There was something off about Alex. But now we know what it is. Honestly, he seems off in the same way that you seem on—and vice versa.”
I nodded my agreement. “It’s true. He’s the wang to my yin.”
“I think you mean yang.”
“No. I mean wang.”
She bumped my shoulder with hers, tsked, even as her expression sobered. “Seriously, Sandra….” She stepped closer, her voice lowering. “He’s a good guy.” Her eyes moved between mine, and I saw that she knew—about his childhood, his father, his experience when he was eight, his mother’s death. She knew everything. Confirming my suspicion, she said, “I read his file. Well, part of it anyway.”
She read it from a file, and I heard it from his mouth.
I was glad he’d told me. I was glad I hadn’t taken the moment, the choice away from him. I imagined that somewhere a file on me, and all the ugliness I’d ever lived through, existed.
“It’s not who he is, Fiona. He’s so much more than what’s in that file. He’s…he’s….”
She squeezed my hand. “I know. He loves you. He was willing to give up basically everything to keep you from a potential humiliation. And that’s enough for me.”
I returned her squeeze. “Your opinion means a lot.” Unaccountably, my eyes began to water.
Our shared moment was interrupted by Ashley’s hand closing over my elbow and her excited pseudo whisper, “We’re ready!”
I turned and was seized upon. I searched the room for Alex and found him standing next to Nico near the arch. Half the ladies had encircled them and were fussing with his shirt. He was frowning at Marie as she pinned something over his heart. It wasn’t a frown of displeasure; rather, it was a frown of concentration.
Directly under the center of the arch stood a woman dressed in a captain’s uniform.
Ashley steered me to the small gathering. I just caught her words as she mumbled, “It’s a good thing this is all so sudden, otherwise we’d have to rent out the convention hall for all the members of your male fan club.”
I didn’t get a chance to respond because the captain was watching me with expectant eyes, and I didn’t want to mention my man-harem in mixed company.
“Captain Day, this is Sandra. Sandra, this is Captain Day.” Fiona made the introductions as everyone else took their seat. Quinn and Dan appeared from someplace previously unseen and claimed seats on Alex’s side. Janie sat next to Quinn and Elizabeth next to Janie.
Fiona, Kat, and Marie sat on my side. Nico stood behind Alex and Ashley stood behind me.
I lifted my eyes and found him watching me. A closed-lipped, disbelieving smile tilted his mouth to the left, revealing his dimple. I returned his grin and shrugged to convey that ultimately this moment was about us—despite all the well-meaning and appreciated interferences of my loving group of friends.
“Oh, come here.” Ashley spun me toward her and unzipped my jacket. She yanked it from my shoulders and hurriedly shoved something in my hands. “Hold this. It’s your bouquet.” Then she spun me back around.
I glanced down at the bouquet in my hands and found that it was actually five skeins of yarn—red and white—bound together tightly at the bottom with a white ribbon forming a sturdy stem; the tops of the skeins were left loose to mimic blossoming flowers. The effect was actually quite beautiful; it was absolutely perfect.
I glanced behind me and gave her a wink. Ashley sniffled, patted me on the shoulder, and whispered in my ear, “That is the hoochiest wedding outfit I’ve ever seen. You go, girl.”
I shook my head and glanced at my attire. She was right, of course. I was wearing the infamous plunging red halter-top from our first date—that had been implicated in BonerGate—and black leather pants. Perhaps it wasn’t traditional wedding attire, but I looked good. And I was definitely not a thermos.
Captain Day cleared her throat, drawing my attention to her.
“I understand that we’re doing the truncated version?” She addressed the question to me, her brown eyes smiling and friendly.
I nodded then glanced to Alex. But Alex wasn’t looking at Captain Day.
Oh, no.
Alex was looking at my hoochie outfit.
Oh, yes.
“Alex,” I said gently.
“Hmm? What?” His eyes snapped to mine.
“Truncated version okay with you?”
“Yeah. Sounds good.” He shifted a step closer, as though compelled, and reached for my hands. It was then that I noticed the small, crocheted flower pinned to his shirt. I glanced at Janie and she shook her head, pointed at Nico.
I shifted my attention, snagged Nico’s gaze over Alex’s shoulder. He, of course, grinned and winked at me. Ah…Nicoletta.
“Let’s get started.” Captain Day glanced at us both then addressed our assembled friends, reciting the ceremonial words that she must’ve memorized after years of officiating.
I should have been paying attention to those words, letting them make an imprint, marking their meaning, remembering them for posterity. But I wasn’t. Instead, as I held Alex’s loving gaze, I was concentrating on not crying and keeping my chin from wobbling into oblivion. I marveled at how much emotion I felt, how strong was my urge to both laugh and cry. It felt completely crazy-town and wonderful.
Captain Day reached the portion of the ceremony dedicated to the vows and asked for the rings. I shook my head and opened my mouth to explain that we had no rings when Nico stepped forward, cleared his throat, and
placed two simple gold bands in the captain’s hand. I kept forgetting that he used to be a Boy Scout—always prepared.
“Now, Sandra….” Captain Day turned to me and handed me Alex’s ring. “Repeat after me.”
I squeezed Alex’s hands and interrupted. “Do you mind if I say something else instead? I mean, I don’t have vows written, but I’d like to wing it, if you don’t mind.”
The captain gave me a polite smile and nodded. “Feel free.”
I turned back to Alex. My hands rested in his, and he rubbed light circles over the backs of my knuckles. He was watching me with an expression of half apprehension and half amusement. I cleared my throat, moved a fraction of a step closer to him, and unleashed a ginormous smile.
“Alexander Greene—I think that’s the first time I’ve called you by your full name. Anyway, Alexander Greene….” I gathered a deep breath. “I am stupid in love with you. What I mean is that I have been made stupid by how much I want, need, and love you.”
His eyes moved between mine—searching, raw, fierce—and his expression became sober.
I continued. “You are remarkable and extraordinary.” My chin wobbled, and I tried to ignore the crack in my voice. “Not because of what you’ve lived through or what you’ve accomplished. You are remarkable because of who you are, right now, right here, in this moment. I love your stubbornness….”
He gently shook his head, rolled his eyes—but I saw that his gaze shone as it returned mine.
“…And your cleverness, your generosity, and your kindness. You are remarkable because you are the most honorable person I know; and you’re the strongest, and also the strangest.”
His smile in response was small and fleeting as I finished my vows. “I want to know you, to love you, to support you, and to cherish you. I want to be—just be—with you, always, for the rest of my life.”
I slipped his ring on his finger and had to press my lips together to keep from making the ugly cry face; two fat tears rolled down my cheeks. Alex smiled at me, and his eyes followed the trail of my tears. My neck and cheeks heated; my heart galloped in my chest. He stepped forward and wiped the tracks of moisture away with the pad of his thumbs.
“You’re so lovely,” he whispered, so that only I could hear, and then he stepped away.
His touch was excruciating and heartbreaking in its devotion and reverence. I couldn’t fathom loving him more.
Alex twisted to one side to accept my ring from Captain Day. He then turned back to me, his eyes no longer shining.
They were steady and focused, intense and sincere.
He said, “I’m not used to talking to people unless it’s about Indian food.”
This statement earned him a few light laughs and chuckles. I sniffled, thankful for the humorous reprieve from my upwelling of wifely feels. However, Alex’s expression remained earnest, solemn. His eyes never left mine, and I wondered if he were even aware of the others in the room.
He said, “Sandra Elise Fielding,” then gave me a moment to react to the knowledge that—despite my never having shared it with him—he knew my middle name. I guess that’s what I get for marrying a hacker.
Holding me with his eyes and heart, Alex said, “You’ve shown me joy where before I saw only despair. You’ve taught me hope where before I knew only hopelessness. I may be broken, but all my pieces are yours. And I’ll work every day of my life to deserve you.”
I inhaled a shaky breath as he pushed the ring on my third finger. As it fit into place, I succumbed to an eruption of indefinable, exquisite feelings and completely surrendered to the ugly cry. Tears leaked unabated from my eyes, and my breath was plagued with chokes and sobs. I was ridiculous.
Alex, looking only sublimely pleased with himself, and with no trace of liquid emotion, held my face between his hands and kissed my eyes and cheeks. Then he pulled me into his embrace, wrapped his arms around me, and held me against his chest for the remainder of the ceremony.
I heard no other words spoken. I didn’t want to, because I was listening to the beating of his heart, and life was good.
***
THE BRIDE WORE black leather pants and a red, V-neck halter-top that made her boobs look boss.
The groom wore black pants and a black T-shirt that said, I married Sandra Fielding, and all I got was this lousy T-shirt.
They were married aboard a dinner cruise liner on Lake Michigan by a female boat captain who was also a Unitarian minister.
The bouquet was made of skeins of yarn bound and tied together with white ribbon. It was caught by Kat Manning. The garter—a quickly assembled band of crochet—was caught by Daniel O’Connor.
Their first dance was a karaoke version of Shakira’s Whenever, Wherever sung by the bridesmaids and matrons—Janie, Elizabeth, Ashley, Fiona, Marie, and Kat.
The apparent and contagious happiness of the couple and their devotion to each other was remarked upon by friends and strangers alike.
When they departed to Cloud City, that unattainable apartment in the sky, Sandra Fielding and Alex Greene entered it as partners in actions, words, crimes, and deeds. And most of all, in love.
CHAPTER 28
Wednesday’s Horoscope: You might find yourself frustrated today by your inability to help someone close to you. You can make a breakthrough if you remember that, sometimes, being yourself is more helpful than being an expert.
ALEX WAS ASLEEP. In bed. Next to me. And we were married.
Life was so very, very good.
I took advantage of his slumber and stole into the bathroom to freshen up. Yes, we were husband and wife, and he was going to witness my crusty eyes and drooly face on more than one occasion. But it didn’t need to be the first morning of our marriage.
I rummaged through an overnight bag full of supplies that Janie had left in the apartment—basic hygiene products—plus some clothes for Alex and me. The clothes must’ve belonged to Quinn because they were made for a tall, muscular guy. As I compared Quinn’s shirt to Alex’s discarded one on the floor I realized, with astonishment, that the clothes would likely be a perfect fit.
Janie’s clothes, however, were a size too big and three lengths too tall. I opted for a men’s T-shirt that fell to my mid thighs then silently crept back into the room.
“You’re up early.”
I started at the sound of Alex’s voice, gripped my chest. I wasn’t scared, just startled. After a deep breath, I quickly recovered.
“Sorry, did I wake you?” I gripped the T-shirt hem, tugged it a little lower. His eyes followed the movement.
“Why are you wearing clothes?”
“Because.” I cleared my throat. “Because I was going to retrieve something from the living room and didn’t want to walk around here naked.”
“Oh. Is someone else here?”
“No.”
His eyebrows arched and he tucked his hand behind his head, propping himself upward. “Then, again, why are you wearing clothes?”
I slanted my eyes at him, tried to appear displeased; but the lovely heat that spread through my chest and up my cheeks gave me away. Regardless, I was on a mission. There would be plenty of naked time in the coming years.
In the coming years….
I smiled.
“I’ll be right back. Don’t move.”
I darted from the room. Fairly certain I’d left the item I desired next to the front door, I quickly maneuvered to the entryway. The reusable grocery bag was sitting where I’d left it, and Alex’s gift was inside it.
I grabbed the wrapped object and sprinted back to the master bedroom, bounding in happily and claiming a seat at the end of the bed. I wanted a good view when he opened it.
“Here.” I tossed him the package. “This is for you.”
“What is it?” He eyeballed it skeptically like he’d never seen a present before.
“Rope.”
His eyes widened—not with surprise but with excitement, “Really?”
“No.” I hit the m
attress because I wasn’t close enough to hit him on the shoulder. “But I’ll find out which wedding anniversary is the rope anniversary, and we can invest in a length of non-hemp rope.”
“What’s wrong with hemp?”
“It leaves marks.”
His eyebrows arched.
I waved the conversation away with my hand. “Or so I’ve been told. Whatever. Just….” I inhaled, exhaled, plastered a smile on my face. “Just open it.”
He began opening it—tearing the paper then stopping. I watched him as he fingered one ripped piece as if he’d hurt the paper and regretted the action. After a prolonged moment, he removed the rest of the wrapping and exposed the black cashmere scarf, hat, and mittens.
I bounced a little on the bed. “Do you like it? I made it. See the mittens, the top comes off so you can make them fingerless if you need to use your hands. Look at the palm—I added a key, because you hold the key to my heart.”
I glanced between him and the set, waited for his excitement or praise or disappointment. But he didn’t touch it. He didn’t put it on. He held it and stared at it and frowned.
In fact, he was immobile for so long I became concerned. “Alex…?”
“You made me something.”
I nodded. “Yes. Is it okay? I can always knit something else if….”
His eyes lifted to mine and they were glassy. He didn’t cry, likely due to the force of his iron will, but the effect of his shining gaze was the same. He was so brave, so strong, and had been so alone. Even as my heart reached for him I kept my hands at my sides.
“Alex, are you alright?”
“No one has ever given me a gift before.” He returned his attention to the contents of the package and petted the scarf, rubbed his thumb over it. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” I pressed my hand to my heart. Not for the first time, I imagined what my childhood would have been like with no gifts, no proud parents, no loving embraces. I often tapped into this empathy when working with my patients, designing the best treatment plan for success.
I watched Alex’s chest expand on a silent breath.
Unexpectedly, he said, “I have no pajamas.”