7
I didn’t think I’d ever been so glad to see someone as I was when I turned away from the mirror in the cathedral’s dressing room and saw my parents standing just inside the door, Cat behind them, quickly shutting that same door so no one could see me in my bridal splendor. Yes, Tony had sworn that he’d make sure Rafe wouldn’t try to take a peek, but, considering Tony’s lackadaisical attitude about most things, I wasn’t sure I could trust him to keep his word.
“Miranda, you look stunning,” my mother said, coming toward me with with her hands out in greeting. I took them, and felt a certain odd comfort in their familiar touch. She looked beautiful, too, with her dark hair up in a complicated knot at the back of her head, and wearing an extremely chic dark green suit and high heels. The ensemble was so out of character for her — she usually wore jeans and flowy tops in the summer, or bulky sweaters in the winter — that I knew she’d must have made a special effort to show the Castillos that the McAllisters weren’t a bunch of rubes from the Arizona hills.
“You’re looking pretty stunning yourself,” I replied. We couldn’t really hug, because I knew both of us were worried about wrinkling the silken splendor of my wedding gown, but I squeezed her fingers, taking comfort from her touch. “Where’d you get that outfit? Scottsdale?”
“How’d you know?”
“Last time I checked, I didn’t see anything like that in Jerome or Sedona.”
She smiled. “Well, that’s true enough.”
My father approached. He wore a dark gray suit with a tie patterned in gray and green, colors that suited his mossy hazel eyes. Again, completely out of character for him, since I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d seen him wearing dress pants rather than jeans. “Your mother wanted to make sure we made a good impression.”
“Well, I’m pretty sure you’re going to do that without any problem.” I went on my tiptoes and gave him the lightest of kisses on the cheek, one that left only a faint trace of lip gloss. Holding back a smile, I reached up and whisked the gloss away with my fingertips.
He touched his face where I’d kissed him. “You got it all?”
“Of course,” I said, trying not to smile too much.
“We’re so proud of you,” my mother said then. “Overcoming a threat like the one Simon Escobar presented, becoming prima of the Castillos — we’d hoped for great things for you, but I don’t think either your father or I ever expected quite this much.”
A little rush of warmth went through me. Of course I knew my parents loved me, but still, it was good to hear that they also took some pride in my accomplishments, especially since it hadn’t been so very long ago when I hadn’t exactly showed much promise in the magic department. “Well, I hope that was the end of it,” I replied. “I think we’ve all had enough excitement to last us for a while.”
“A wedding is also exciting,” my mother pointed out. “At least, I hope you think it is.”
This certainly wasn’t the time to point out the misgivings I’d been experiencing, so all I could do was lift my shoulders and say, “I do. But this is really more for the clan than it is for Rafe and me. What I’m really looking forward to is the reception.”
Both my parents chuckled at that remark, and Cat stepped forward and said, “We’re getting close to the time for the ceremony. Do you want me to show you where you need to be?” Because of course my father would be walking me down the aisle this time, and my mother would sit in the front pew. Once again, I wondered if things might have been different if they’d been present for that first wedding ceremony, whether they would have detected the terrible spell Simon had cast on Rafe. I’d never know the answer, and in the end, maybe it was better this way. The love Rafe and I shared was much stronger because of how we’d had to fight for it.
“It’s all right, Cat,” my father said. “We know where we need to go. Besides, you’re the maid of honor — you need to stay here with Miranda.” He paused, then glanced over at me. “I’ll see you in a few minutes.”
I smiled at him, and both he and my mother left the dressing room. Cat closed the door, then turned toward me, one eyebrow lifted in that ironic way she shared with her brother.
“You could have told me your father was such a hottie.”
“He’s twenty-five years older than you are,” I pointed out. “And happily married.”
“Yes, I can see that, thank you very much.” She tilted her head so the little diamond drops she wore in her ears twinkled in the light from the clerestory windows high above us. “It’s not like I was going to go after him or something. I was just making a statement of fact.” A little pause, and an impish light entered her dark eyes. “Maybe that’s been my problem all along. Maybe I just like older men better.”
“Possibly,” I said. For her sake, I kind of hoped not. It was very rare to find an unmarried warlock in his thirties, or older. “We can talk about that later, after the wedding.”
“Right.” A glance up at the clock that hung on the far wall of the dressing room, and she said, “Well, time to go. Let’s get you properly married.”
“I am properly married,” I protested, but I dutifully followed her out of the room and down the hallway that led to the chapel itself. As we drew closer, I could hear soft organ music playing, although I couldn’t make out the tune. Something traditional, probably; the Castillos were all about tradition, whereas we McAllisters were the exact opposite.
My father was waiting in the vestibule; he held out his arm to me as the music transitioned to Pachelbel’s Canon. I hadn’t wanted to walk down the aisle to the wedding march, just because it always felt a little too loud and bombastic to me. Luckily, Pachelbel was orthodox enough that I didn’t get a peep of protest over the substitution, not even from Rafe’s Aunt Rosa.
Cat went ahead of us, walking serenely down the aisle in her blush-pink bridesmaid’s gown, dark head held high. The color suited her, brought a warmth to her olive skin, although I didn’t think I’d really seen her wear it much before this. As I watched her go, I wondered if I’d done the right thing by having only a maid-of-honor and no other attendants, since she did look rather small in contrast to the chapel’s lofty ceilings.
Well, it couldn’t be helped now. Anyway, I didn’t have time to worry about those kinds of details, because it was now my turn to emerge from the vestibule and walk down the aisle. My father’s arm supported me, allowed me to carry my head just as high as Cat had. The last time I’d done this, Rafe’s father Eduardo had held my arm, and I’d been grateful for his presence. Still, it wasn’t the same as having my own father next to me, or knowing that my mother waited in the front pew.
Would things have turned out differently if they’d been present at the first ceremony? Could they, with the strength of their combined powers, have detected Simon’s dark magic working on Rafe and figured out a way to block it or stop it somehow?
Possibly. I’d never know for sure, though, and at this point, did it really matter? When you got right down to it, Simon’s spell had backfired on him, because in a strange, terrible way, what he’d done to Rafe and me had only drawn us closer in the end, had allowed us to realize how much we truly did care for one another. This second ceremony would have so much more meaning to us because of that.
And there Rafe was, standing on the altar next to his cousin Tony, smiling down at me, his eyes full of admiration as he caught his first glimpse of me in my wedding gown. I’d heard the murmurs of appreciation while I walked down the aisle, but it was really Rafe’s approval I wanted.
A gentle touch on my arm, and then my father quietly let go so he could sit down next to my mother and I could ascend the altar steps to stand next to Rafe. As I took my place next to him, he leaned in and murmured, “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
A pleased flush rose to my cheeks, but all I could do was send him a quick smile, since the priest had already begun the ceremony.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here tog
ether….”
Thank the Goddess that the ceremony was being conducted in English, not Latin. Most Catholic churches had long ago abandoned the use of the dead language, but, as I’d previously noted, the Castillos tended to stick to the traditional, and Santa Fe itself was much the same way, for all its surface vibe of being a funky artists’ haven. In this instance, though, Rafe had prevailed, which meant I didn’t have to worry about not understanding what was going on during my own wedding.
When the time came, he said solemnly, “With this ring, I thee wed,” and slipped the band of diamonds onto my left hand. I hadn’t wanted a big ostentatious solitaire, but we’d found a local jeweler who created lovely, intricate designs, and the two-tone band of delicate scrolls set with tiny winking diamonds was just what I wanted. The ring felt at home on my finger, as though it had always been intended to rest there.
I did the same with Rafe, placing the brushed-titanium band we’d chosen on his ring finger. His hand shook a little, and I realized how important this had been to him as well, despite the attitude he’d adopted of casual nonchalance when it came to this second ceremony of ours. Now we really did feel married, even though we’d been husband and wife in the eyes of the state of New Mexico for a month.
“You may kiss the bride,” the priest said, and here was the magic moment, the touch of Rafe’s lips against mine, the faint rustle of his expensive suit as he pulled me close and held me for a long moment. The thrill that went through me told me that yes, I was very happy to now be Miranda Castillo, a permanent part of the family.
The organist started to play the traditional processional, and Rafe and I turned toward our watching family members so they could all stand and applaud. I caught a glimpse of my mother in the first row, tears gleaming in the green eyes that were so like mine, my father looking a bit damp-eyed as well next to her, and then it was all a blur as we walked down the aisle, hand in hand, finally being able to enjoy the moment that Simon Escobar had tried to steal from us.
It was then that I realized he truly was gone, no longer had any power to disrupt our lives. I’d been conjuring images of him as some sort of bogeyman who could return from the grave and continue to create havoc, but those were only my own fears talking. For all Simon’s amazing gifts, he’d still just been a mortal man, one who had no more control over life and death than any of the rest of us did. It was time to leave him in the past.
As much as I wanted to head over to the reception site and pop the champagne, we still had to pause here at the cathedral for a while so the photographer could get the requisite shots, some of Rafe and me, some with our small wedding party, others with my parents and Eduardo. As that photo was taken, I reached over and squeezed Rafe’s hand, doing my best to let him know how sorry I was that his mother couldn’t be here with us on this happy day.
He didn’t speak, but an answering warmth in his eyes told me that he understood. I’d worried a bit about his apparent lack of mourning for Genoveva, although I’d done my best to tell myself that everyone grieved in their own way, and Rafe certainly wasn’t the type to indulge in showy displays of sorrow. No, it was the little things, like the way he’d pause when he passed by the picture of his family that sat on the large mantel in the living room, or the way he talked about the gardens and how much his mother had loved them. His wasn’t a hard heart, but a quiet one, and I knew I had to let himself progress through his grieving on his own timetable and in a manner that felt comfortable for him.
At last, though, the photographer determined that he had enough shots he could use, and we were set free to go enjoy ourselves at the reception. An elegant self-driving limo whisked Rafe and me away to the restaurant, and the rest of the wedding party followed. The guests had preceded us, and so they’d had a good forty-five minutes to eat and drink while the pictures were being taken.
It was no surprise to me that Tony made a beeline for the bar. From across the room, I thought I saw his mother send him a disapproving look as he ordered a martini for himself, but he seemed prepared to ignore her. And really, it wasn’t as though he had any official duties to manage until the time came to give the toast.
For myself, after standing in heels for more than an hour, I was all too happy to have Rafe guide me to the head table so I could sit down. He went to fetch us some champagne, giving me a chance to finally take in my surroundings. Although Cat and I had selected the decorations together, I hadn’t been involved in putting them up, and so the fairytale winter wonderland I saw now was enough to take my breath away. Swags of tulle with fairy lights glimmering behind them decorated the ceiling, and more lights glittered from the bare white-painted trees that stood like sentinels along the walls. Each centerpiece was a large glass column with flowers and leaves submerged in water, and little battery-powered lights gleaming from within the underwater flora.
All taken together, the transformed dining area at Eduardo’s restaurant was more beautiful than I could have imagined, and tears of happiness pricked at my eyes as I looked at the result of Cat’s hard work — and the hard work of the Castillo cousins she’d drafted to assist in decorating the hall. However, I blinked those tears back as Rafe approached, a glass of champagne in each hand. The last thing I wanted was for him to think that I was unhappy in any way. No, I was just the opposite.
“It looks gorgeous,” I told him as he handed a champagne flute to me. “Do I want to know how long all this took?”
“Just an afternoon, according to Cat,” Rafe replied. “A lot of people pitched in to help, and then the florist handled the final setup with the table arrangements.”
“Where is Cat, anyway?” I asked. I scanned the crowd, but I didn’t see anyone wearing a long, blush-colored dress.
Rafe appeared to look over the crowd as well, then nodded. “She’s over by the door, talking to your parents.”
I glanced in that direction. Sure enough, the three of them stood by the door that led out into the restaurant proper, having what looked like an animated conversation. About what, I had no idea, although I hoped that Cat hadn’t taken it into her head to try flirting with my father. Most likely, my parents would find such an attempt amusing more than anything else, but still….
Whatever the discussion had been about, it didn’t seem to last long. Cat made some kind of comment and headed over toward the bar, while my parents went in the opposite direction, toward the spot where Eduardo and Louisa and Louisa’s husband Oscar stood talking.
“They all look like they’re having a good time,” I said.
“Of course they are.” Rafe set his champagne flute down on the table and reached over to trace a gentle finger over my forearm. It was the softest of touches, but still enough to send a flicker of desire through me…even though we were surrounded by family members. “They just saw their daughter get married.”
“I was talking about Cat and your family, too.”
“Well, same thing, basically. Now we can all relax and enjoy ourselves, you know?”
Looking out at the Castillos gathered there, at my own parents, I thought I did know. There were times when we’d all thought this day would never arrive. Now was the time to take a breath, to realize there wasn’t anything or anyone to get in the way of our happy future.
The evening did feel like a dream — that first glass of champagne was followed by another, and then some wonderful red wine to go with the Beef Wellington served as the main course. Then more champagne, and Tony standing up to make the toast. The Goddess only knew how many drinks he’d had by that point, although he seemed steady enough as he raised his champagne flute.
“I thought about making a big fancy speech,” he said. “But I guessed you all didn’t want to sit here and listen to me drone on for ten minutes. All I wanted to say really boiled down to this, anyway — Rafe and Miranda are proof that you need to fight for what you want. They never gave up on each other, or this clan, no matter how badly things seemed to be going. And now they’re together, and all you have to do is
look at them together to know how happy they are. I hope” — Tony paused there, and seemed to ponder whether he wanted to continue the sentence or not. Apparently, he decided to do so, because he finished by saying, “I hope one day I can love someone the way they love each other. Congratulations!”
From all around the room came echoes of, “Congratulations!,” and everyone raised their champagne glass as well and took a hearty swallow. I drank, too, mostly because Tony’s words had made those tears return to my eyes, and I thought the best way to banish them was to have some of what my parents had always jokingly referred to as “fizzy lifting drinks.”
But there wasn’t much time to get too misty, because after that was a dance, Rafe holding me close, the strength of his arms telling me that he’d always be my champion — even though he knew I could take care of myself — and then the cutting off the cake, and finally, finally, an escape to the limo, which brought us home.
The soft glow of the lights from the Christmas tree greeted us; Rafe must have made sure they were plugged in before he left for the cathedral. I loved that he’d done that, had wanted to have me come home to that delicate reminder of the season. After he carried me over the threshold — and I once again protested that he really didn’t need to do that — he kissed me under the mistletoe which hung from the ceiling in the foyer.
“Welcome home, Mrs. Castillo,” he said.
I arched an eyebrow at him. “I don’t recall telling you that I was going to change my name.”
He grinned at me. “I really don’t care one way or another…but since you’re the prima of the clan, it might be a good idea.”
True enough. Besides, I was already a hyphenate — my birth certificate said “Miranda Marie McAllister-Wilcox,” which was enough of a mouthful. I didn’t see how I could get away with adding another last name to that over-extended string of words.
“You’re right, of course. Well, then, Mr. Castillo…why don’t you take me upstairs and make it worth my while for me to change my last name?”
A Canyon Road Christmas Page 7
