The Determined Virgin

by Daphne Clair

  'Ah-huh!' Mick said slowly, looking from him to Rhiannon, and began to grin.

  'I don't suppose you happen to have a marriage cel­ ebrant's licence?' Gabriel asked.

  Mick's grin grew. "Fraid not, boss. You're getting married?'

  'She promised,' Gabriel told him, 'as soon as we got out of that damned lift. But I guess we'll have to wait a while.'

  But not for long. Gabriel was on hot bricks until the day that Rhiannon promised to love, honour and cherish him for the rest of her days, after he'd promised the same to her. Mick had proudly led her down the aisle to his side, and from the time she put her hand in Gabriel's and he slipped his ring onto her finger, he hardly let it go.

  They left the reception by taxi, on their way to one of Auckland's top hotels for the night. Across his knees, Gabriel held a long, narrow white box. At the front door of the Angelair Building he told the driver to stop and wait for them, mystifying Rhiannon.

  'I want to give thanks to my namesake,' he said, lead­ ing Rhiannon up the stairs. He paused before the mosaic, its colours gleaming softly in the light from the chan­ deliers. 'That rose,' he said, looking up at it. 'Did it upset you to paint it?'

  'It was sort of cathartic in a way. I didn't want to do it, but I knew I had to. Once it was there, it was just a rose, and a sort of symbol of all that I've achieved... conquered.'

  'Then,' Gabriel said, 'I hope you won't mind this.' He opened the box and lifted out a single, long-stemmed red rose, and laid it reverently at the foot of the mosaic, then stepped back, taking her hand.

  'I don't mind,' she said. 'It's a lovely gesture.'

  'One day,' he said, 'I'd like to be able to give you flowers.' Today she'd carried a mother-of-pearl prayer book that had been her grandmother's, not flowers.

  'One day,' she said, 'I'll like that, if they come from you.'

  He bent to kiss her, and she kissed him back with eagerness, until he broke away. 'We have a taxi waiting,' he said hoarsely, 'a honeymoon suite, and a bed.' He turned to the mosaic and sketched a small salute. 'Good­ night, Gabe. Sorry, but you aren't invited. This is not angel stuff.'

  Then he swept Rhiannon, laughing, into his arms and carried her down the stairs to the waiting taxi.

  'Where to now?' the driver asked, after Gabriel had shut the doors of the building and rejoined his still smil­ ing wife.

  Gabriel looked at Rhiannon, took her hand firmly in his and said, 'Heaven.'