by Loree Lough
Casey had hit the old nail on the head when he’d said it was about time Simon took a long hard look at himself, analyzed his own behavior, and listened to the tone of his own self-absorbed rants. And when Simon took that good advice, it shamed him to admit what he’d become. No…what he might have become, if not for his hardheaded cousin’s words to the not-so-wise.
Grinning to himself, Simon wondered how many minutes it would have taken Casey to agree with his self-assessment.
He’d fed and watered the cat and dog an hour ago, before beginning this latest driving tour of Paradise. “Long as you’re home by dark, they’ll be fine,” he muttered, putting the pickup in REVERSE and then heading for the place where he’d always done his best thinking.
He had a lot to make up for. And if God was on his side, he thought as the lone wolves howled, Julia would forgive him for every stinging word. The sun had begun to set, and their music would soon echo throughout the sanctuary, an eerie blend of jubilation and heartsickness. Simon believed the majestic beasts had the capacity to feel gratitude for the daily care they received here. But he also theorized they knew where they’d come from—even those born here at the sanctuary—and mourned the vast wilderness and unfettered freedom that could have been theirs, if uninformed humans hadn’t intruded.
Fawn approached slowly, and right behind her came the leader of Wolf Pack B. “Well, I’ll be,” he said, squatting and extending a hand, “got yourself a boyfriend, have you, girl?”
She looked over her shoulder at the big male then brought her head up and sent Simon her best wolf smile.
“I’m happy for you, Fawn. Real happy.”
But her good fortune wasn’t shared by Casper, who paced nervously along the tree line, watching the huge alpha that stood between him and the friend who for so long had shared his lone-wolf status. “Sorry, pal,” Simon whispered. And he meant it, too, because now the poor animal would truly be a lone wolf.
Just then he spied movement to Casper’s left. Another wolf—one Simon hadn’t seen before—moving steadily closer, head down and tail tucked. Simon froze, not wanting his human instincts to interfere with the wolves’ natural inclinations. “Watch yourself, buddy,” was his quiet warning to Casper, “’cause there’s trouble at two o’clock….”
Matt had told Simon that a newcomer would soon arrive at the sanctuary. He must have only just been delivered, or the caretaker would have called to arrange a thorough exam and vaccinations.
He’d seen members of the packs head for Fawn and Casper for doing little more than trying to enjoy a biscuit or standing too near the others. And while it pained him to watch as they relegated the pair to a distant corner of the sanctuary, it was the wolves’ way, and he was duty-bound to accept it.
For a time, the loners held their own. But all too soon they were forced to succumb to peer pressure and the strength of wolves twice their size, thanks to a ready supply of food that the smaller pair could eat only when granted permission. He’d doctored injuries inflicted on Fawn and Casper by claw and fang, and miraculously, they’d survived. This newcomer, leaner and lighter than Casper, would have a fight on his hands if he planned to go after the white wolf.
Then an amazing thing happened. Casper turned and nudged the brown and gray wolf. “Ahh,” Simon said to himself, “so you guys are friends already, are you?”
“You shouldn’t be surprised. Even outsiders are accepted, sometimes…”
He’d know that voice anywhere. Oh, how he’d missed hearing it all these months! But Simon didn’t get to his feet, for fear the movement would spook the wolves. Especially Fawn and her new beau, who’d never been as accepting of the volunteer vet as most of his cohorts.
Julia eased nearer and settled down beside him, and when she laid a hand on his knee, he thought his heart would burst with gratitude and joy as Fawn and her partner pranced away. He didn’t deserve this act of kindness. Didn’t deserve her forgiveness, and he would’ve said so if she hadn’t chosen that moment to softly sigh.
“I’m happy for her,” Julia said, her gaze following the female wolf, “and for Casper, too.” She stared into the thicket where the loners paced. “Does the new one have a name?”
“Haven’t met him yet.” He chanced a peek at her profile. Was it possible she’d grown even lovelier during their months apart? “If Matt hasn’t already chosen something, I’ll bet he’d let you pick a name.”
He watched her grin and wished she stood square in front of him instead of crouched at his side, because Simon longed to look into her eyes and see for himself if hope for the two of them glimmered there.
“So how’re Windy and Wiley?”
“Fine.” Were they back to making small talk, thanks to his cantankerousness? “And Mouser?”
“I’ve taught her a few tricks. She’s a smarty, that one.”
He chuckled despite himself. “You can’t teach a cat tricks. They’re stubborn, with minds of their own.” But he had to consider he’d said it to the woman who’d taught him that even cold-blooded killers deserved a little grace now and then.
She shrugged, but only a little. “Guess you’ll just have to come see for yourself.”
“Guess so.” Does that mean, he thought as gratitude swelled inside him, there’s hope for us after all?
“Are you here to inject the newbie with various drugs? Or give him a mild sedative so you can check for parasites and injuries and signs of abuse?”
“Neither, actually. Matt said last week there’d be an addition to the population, but I didn’t realize he’d been delivered until I got here.” Simon wondered if the continued small talk was a good thing…or a sign of doom.
“Do you have the stuff you need in the office? To do it now, I mean?”
Simon nodded, wondering where Julia was heading with her line of questioning.
“I could help…if you need an extra pair of hands, I mean.”
“Probably better if I come back tomorrow.”
“Ahh…easier to see what you’re doing in the bright light of day?”
“Everything looks better in the bright light of day.”
She shifted slowly to face him, and when she blinked up at him with those big golden eyes, Simon believed he knew how Levi must feel, looking into the eyes of angels every day up there in heaven.
“I never stopped loving you, you know. Not for an instant.”
The heat of thankfulness pulsed through his veins, making his eyes burn with unshed tears and his throat ache with a sob. He’d planned a long apology, where he’d confess what a fool he’d been just before begging her forgiveness. But “I’m an idiot,” was all he could think to say.
“I know.” She allowed a moment to tick silently by then giggled quietly. “And so am I.” Winking, Julia added, “We make a pretty good team, eh?”
The wolves seemed to grow tired of waiting for treats from the babbling humans, and they trotted back toward their Matt-made dens of wood and cast-off carpeting. Simon slowly got to his feet and ever-so-gently brought Julia to hers. She melted against him like butter on a hot biscuit. Peripheral vision told him the wolves didn’t know what to make of this two-legged sign of affection. He might have called Julia’s attention to it, too, if she hadn’t risen up on her tiptoes to press her lips to his.
A pretty good team, he thought as her fingers combed through his hair. A pretty good team.
“You go on ahead and unlock the door. I’ll be right behind you.” And once she’d made her way up the flagstone walk, Simon tossed aside the tarp that had been hiding her gift. Holding the brown-wrapped package behind his back as he made his way down the hall, he stepped up behind her at the stove and kissed her cheek. “You spoil me,” he whispered as she poured lemonade into two icy glasses. He put the package onto the corner of the table. “Go on, open it.”
She stood for a moment just looking at him, one hand on her hip while the fingers of the other tapped her chin. Simon wondered if he’d ever get used to being on the receiving en
d of that “I love you and always will” expression.
Julia slid the bow aside then peeled the shimmering pink wrapper from the package. “Simon,” she said on a sigh, “is this what I think it is?”
He chuckled.
“It looks like…like a keepsake box.” She hugged it as he told her how he’d gone back to Zooks’ and looked through everything available but hadn’t found anything to suit him. A half dozen failures in as many other stores told him there was but one way to give her the box she truly deserved. And so Simon made this one himself, starting with oak scraps left over from when he’d repaired his staircase. Using every tool and trick he’d picked up during his years working construction to pay his way through vet school, Simon crafted a mini hope chest of sorts, sanding and polishing until the oak was so smooth it wouldn’t snag even an old silk tie. Stained and sealed to match her grandfather’s trunk, he’d lined it with pillowy white satin. The finishing touches were brass hinges and a push-button latch. “Well,” he said, “open it.”
She held his gaze for a long, silent moment then slowly did as he asked.
“A…card?”
“Remember what else you said that day in the gift shop?”
Julia’s brow furrowed, and he could almost see the gears meshing in that never-stopping mind of hers as she thought back and tried to recall every word she’d uttered. Her hands trembled slightly as she unstuck the flap and slid the card from its envelope. “A blank-inside card,” she said softly, “so you could tell her exactly what she means to you.”
Simon held his breath, waiting for her to read what he’d written.
“Sorry, Simon,” she said, her voice thick and trembly, “but I can’t see to read it.” She held out the card and sniffed, pointing at her teary eyes.
Grinning, Simon wrapped her in a loving embrace. It surprised him when, as he began reciting what he’d written, tears stung in his own eyes:
“Beulah Land, Eden, Avalon. Many places claim to be heaven, but there’s only one Paradise…and it will become my heaven if you agree to be my wife. I love you as I’ve never loved anyone, and I always will.”
Then he kissed her.
Epilogue
“Seems a waste,” William said, “to spend so much hard-earned money on wild animals…especially animals that eat livestock!”
“Somebody’s gotta make up to ’em,” Simon said, “for the stupidity of humans.”
William shrugged then went back to stacking hay bales in the loft.
“People try to make pets out of them,” Simon continued, “and when they get too big and start eating them out of house and home, they abandon the wolves…or let them starve.”
“Cruelty of any kind is sinful, I think.” He nodded. “But you did not come here today to give me a lesson in caring for wolves, wild or otherwise. You are here to invite me to your wedding at the sanctuary, ya?”
Simon was about to ask how the man knew the purpose of his mission even before he’d versed it when William said, “Our women, they have been talking.” Leaning an elbow on a tower of hay, he added, “You are a doctor. Is there a cure for this talk-talk-talking disorder?”
“None that I know of.”
“You should put on your thinking cap, then.” Pausing a beat, William added, “The man who concocts a tonic like that will be the richest on earth, I think!” And he punctuated his joke with a hearty laugh.
William’s laughter was a good thing to hear. Simon had barely seen the man so much as crack a smile since before Levi was killed. “We couldn’t have a wedding without asking if you and the family will join us.”
William clapped a hand to Simon’s back. “You are a good man, Simon Thomas.” He winked. “And smart.”
“For choosing Julia, you mean….”
The farmer returned to his work. “The Gunden family will be honored to watch as you and Julia are married.”
“And we’ll be proud to have you there.”
Three weeks later, on the Saturday before Easter, Simon stood in the sanctuary gift shop, decorated by Matt and other volunteers to resemble a chapel, fidgeting as he waited for his bride-to-be to walk down the hall.
The Gundens sat on folding chairs beside Casey’s family, and an odd assortment of Paradise shopkeepers and residents filled the remaining seats.
Thirty-five guests in all to share their glorious day.
Although their more liberal brethren sometimes decorated wedding ceremonies with flowers, the Old Order Amish did not. And since the Gundens were strict Old Order, Julia, out of respect for her dear friends, opted not to adorn the makeshift chapel with floral arrangements. The only blossoms visible would bloom in Julia’s bouquet.
In place of the haunting strains of the “Wedding March” chorusing from a church organ, Rebekah had offered to provide a traditional Amish song. She stood guard outside the storeroom door where the bride hid, donning the finishing touches for her eager groom.
A trickle of sweat inched down Simon’s spine, and he ran a finger around the stiff white collar of his pleated tuxedo shirt. Why hadn’t he opted for a pre-tied bow instead of the do-it-yourself kind? In his nervousness, he’d pulled the knot a mite too tight.
“Stand still,” Casey whispered from the corner of his mouth as he elbowed Simon’s ribs. “You’re making me nervous.”
“Where is she?” he asked, tugging at his cuffs.
Casey peeked at his watch. “Relax. She has five minutes yet before she’s supposed to make her grand entrance. And weddings never start on time.”
“How do you know so much when you’ve only had one?”
“Joanna is addicted to that wedding show on cable….” He chuckled. “See what you have to look forward to? Decorating shows and talk shows and…”
Simon was about to tell his cousin that maybe he should’ve chosen a best man with fewer insights into women, marriage, and television when the door opened at the rear of the gift shop.
Rebekah’s pure, sweet voice rose in a blissful acappella melody that was more chant than song…and then Julia appeared in the doorway.
He leaned forward then side to side to get a better look. But since she was silhouetted by the window behind her, Simon couldn’t make out the details of her gown, couldn’t see her eyes or her smile or—
“Relax,” Casey said again. “You’ll be lookin’ at that face for the rest of your life.”
“A guy can hope.”
She took a few steps into the light, allowing Simon his first glimpse of his bride-to-be. “She’s…she’s breathtaking,” he whispered. “I’ve never seen anything lovelier.”
Julia had bragged, just last week, what a great deal she’d gotten on her dress. “No ruffles or bows, no sequins or lace. Just a plain little Aline off the rack, and I love it.” If that’s what she called “plain,” Simon didn’t think he could stand to see her idea of “fancy.”
The gown of dazzling white clung to her petite figure, accenting every womanly curve. In place of a flowing gauzy veil, she wore a tiny circlet of daisies on her head like a flowery halo. He could see the gleam of her engagement ring, but it paled in comparison to the radiance of her smile and the lovelight beaming from her eyes. She carried a handful of daisies, and even from where he stood, he noticed the slight tremor that shook every petal in the basketball-sized bouquet. And on her tiny feet were shiny white shoes with the toes cut out, exposing pink-painted nails that glinted in the overhead light.
“Breathtaking,” he said again. “Has it been five minutes yet?”
“Almost,” Casey answered, “but, dude…don’t wish your life away, okay?”
Their pastor stepped up to the provisional pulpit and faced the small gathering. “Ready, Simon?” he asked over his shoulder.
“Absolutely.”
“Should I start?”
“Definitely.”
“Think your bride is in agreement?”
Her gaze held his and, smiling, she sent him a little wave.
“Positive.”
“Then let’s get this show on the road!” the reverend said, opening his Bible.
Rebekah’s song ended at the precise moment a wolf howled, its long, lone note rising in pitch and volume as a second joined in, blending its voice with celestial harmony. Soon, a chorus of calls hung on the humid air.
“That’s weird,” Simon heard Matt say, “they don’t usually all go at it during the daytime this way.”
Simon silently agreed, and when he glanced to the end of the hall to share Julia’s reaction to the unrestrained symphony, he saw that she’d faced the window, one delicate hand pressed to her lips as the other hugged the bridal bouquet to her bosom. Had she wiped away a tear, or did he imagine it? Lord, he thought, how did I merit a woman like this, who’s as sensitive as she is beautiful?
The pastor and all those gathered stood in awe as the wild and wonderful ballad continued. And then, as suddenly as it had begun, the serenade stopped, leaving everyone blinking and bewildered, almost as if they wondered in unison, “It isn’t really over, is it?”
Then the ceremony began, and like the wolves’ melody, it ended, leaving each man, woman, and child amazed at how quickly and competently the pastor had united Simon and Julia in the bonds of holy matrimony.
As they walked arm in arm into the sizzling sunshine, Simon realized that with the recitation of a few ordinary words and the proclamation of a simple man of the cloth, he had become Julia’s husband and she his wife. He watched her, smiling, as friends and neighbors hugged her, as she thanked them for their well-wishes and laughed at their jokes. And though he appreciated the people who’d drawn together in support of their decision to join two lives into one, Simon wished the shop—the entire sanctuary!—would empty, so he could commit every moment to memory.
“Don’t worry,” Casey said, clapping his shoulder, “this isn’t something you’ll ever forget.”
Simon chuckled. “How’d you know what I was thinking?”
“It’s written all over your face, cousin, all over your face.”
