Wedding a Warrior

by Hannah Conway

  “Congratulations.” Haden’s deep voice roared around them.

  Collier laughed out loud. “Hey, Whit. I want you to meet Haden, my best man, and this is his girlfriend, Emilee.”

  Collier watched Whit light up as she shook hands. Whit, his fiancé, his soon to be wife.

  Chapter 9

  WHITLEIGH inhaled and glanced around her childhood bedroom for the last time as Whitleigh Haynes. The sweet, subtle scent of lavender and lilac drifted past lace curtains and danced under her nose. She smiled.

  Whitleigh stole a glimpse of herself in the full length oval mirror her father had hung in the room’s corner after her sixth birthday. Small round pearls dangled from her wrist—a prized piece once worn by Collier’s mother.

  “You look stunning.” Momma placed her hand on Whitleigh’s cheek with care. “Raising children happens so fast. One day you’re in the thick of parenting and, before you know it, you are staring at them — the end product, thinking how amazing the journey has been and what an honor it is to just have played a part in their lives.” Momma sniffled past her soft smile. “I could not be more proud of the godly woman that you are. I love you.”

  “I love you, too, Momma.”

  Lennon grabbed boxes of tissues and passed them to Reese, both of them looked stunning in their deep purple bridesmaids’ dresses.

  “Knock, knock.” Dad entered with covered eyes.

  “We’re decent, Daddy.”

  Professor Rhine stood at his side, envelope in hand, ponytail tied with a more festive ribbon.

  Daddy stopped in front of Whitleigh. He clasped his hands, eyes sparkling. “You took my breath away.”

  Whitleigh bowed her head, feeling the heat in her cheeks. She held on to his hand lightly, swinging their arms. “You’re not so bad all dressed up in a tux.”

  He fiddled with the black bow tie. “Collier looks pretty sharp out there, so I’m trying not to show him up.”

  Momma laughed along. Reese and Lennon sat on the bedside, still holding tissues to their eyes.

  “It’s about time to start.” Dad tugged on the cuffs of his sleeve. “Julius has something to give you.”

  Professor Rhine stepped forward, envelope held out in his wrinkled hand. “After Korea, Collier will get first pick of duty stations.” His sanguine eyes held her attention. “Being former military, I’ve acquired many properties.”

  He slipped the envelope into Whitleigh’s hands. Her brows met in the middle as she turned the card over. A key fell from the corner and into her palm. “I don’t understand.”

  “Go to school in Colorado. Live in one of my apartments until Collier gets orders to Ft. Carson, and then you can move on base if you’d like. The Army will move your stuff once he has orders there.”

  Whitleigh’s voice caught. “I… I don’t know what to say.” She held a hand over her heart.

  “I held you and Collier as babies. Fought in the Korean War with his grandfather and yours.” He lifted his hands, palms open. “This is the least I can do.”

  Thank you seemed insufficient. Professor Rhine squeezed Whitleigh’s wrist and walked to the door. “And that doesn’t mean I’m giving either of you an A.” He winked and headed out.

  Momma held tight to Daddy. Both their chins dimpled.

  Reese and Lennon no longer hid their sobs.

  “It’s time, Whit.” Daddy tapped at his pocket watch.

  Whitleigh parted her lips, still in awe of the generosity of all those around her. She lifted her bouquet. Lavender buds and pearls skimmed the top of her hand. Lace and burlap tickled her skin. “One more thing.”

  She lifted the corner of her dress, maneuvering across her bedroom. “Lennon.” Whitleigh knelt as much as her dress would allow. “Collier won’t be going to Honduras next month.”

  “But —”

  “Wait.” Whitleigh bit at her lip. “We want you to go in his place.”

  “Whit, there’s no way I can afford —”

  “It’s already paid for.” Her lashes danced across the top of her cheeks. “Don’t argue.” Whitleigh held up a playful hand. “Just say yes.”

  Lennon’s cheeks rounded. Her grin matched the width of her face. “Blaine’s going, too.”

  “I knew it. You like him.” Reese slung her lanky arms around both Whitleigh and Lennon. “Best day ever.”

  “Remember the scar or you could end up kissing Bryant.”

  “Ick!” Lennon and Reese laughed to the point of doubling over.

  “Honduras here we come!” Whitleigh clapped her hands.

  “Let’s get you married first.” Momma dabbed at her eyes and patted Whitleigh’s hand. Yes, it was time to get married. Finally.

  THOSE standing in reverence blocked the view of her groom. Soft music floated through the rafters. Early afternoon sunlight cascaded through barn-wood slats, more spectacular than the glistening of a thousand diamonds. This was no longer a barn, but a holy place for a holy occasion. Fragrant floral arrangements embellished with small iridescent sparkling butterflies, signifying new life, adorned the wooden chairs lining the aisle.

  A crown of crystals adorned her hair. Layers of elegant white satin and chiffon kissed the ground beneath her feet. Whitleigh closed the distance between her and Collier. The crowd vanished. Through her veil she could see him — the man God made for her. The medals on his chest shone in the dim light as he stood tall and proud in his Army Greens.

  Daddy placed her hand into Collier's and stepped aside. Collier held her hands. His thumbs rubbed smooth circles overtop hers. He not only held her hands, he held her heart.

  The pastor opened his worn Bible and the ceremony began.

  “Marriage is sacred, created and designed by God. We witness God's outline for marriage in Genesis chapter two when Eve was created.” The pastor’s nimble fingers flipped the tattered pages. “This is now bone of my bones, and flesh of my flesh; she shall be called Woman, because she was taken out of Man. For this reason, a man shall leave his father and his mother, and be joined to his wife; and they shall become one flesh.

  She refused to take her eyes from Collier’s. They beckoned her.

  The pastor balanced the Bible with one hand. “The marriage union is the closest relationship that can exist between two people. It should not be entered into lightly. Rings please.”

  Collier shifted his weight and wiped the sweat from his brow. His hand trembled as he slid the ring onto her finger with ease.

  “Do you, Collier Cromwell, take Whitleigh Haynes as your lawfully wedded wife from this day forward, keeping yourself only unto her, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”

  Collier squeezed Whit’s hand. “I do.”

  She returned the gesture.

  “Do you, Whitleigh Haynes, take Collier Cromwell to be your lawfully wedded husband from this day forward, keeping yourself only unto him, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”

  “I do.” Whitleigh touched the ring she placed on her husband’s hand. Hands much larger than hers. Stronger. A place where her hands belonged.

  “I now pronounce you man and wife.”

  Their audience clapped and cheered.

  The pastor snapped his Bible shut. “You may kiss your bride.”

  And kiss they did.

  WHITLEIGH breathed in the moment and all the setting offered to her senses. Long family sized farm tables sat in parallel rows through the freshly mowed field behind the barn. Each table boasted wooden slab centerpieces smelling of fresh maple. Mason jars perched on top of the wood pieces with lilac and lavender sprouting from them. Burlap and lace runners hung from the sides. The beautiful blue sky provided a picturesque backdrop for the wedding reception.

  Family and friends raved about the paracord bracelet wedding favors. Laughter and chatter surrounded Whitleigh and Collier as they danced, bodies close. The heat from his skin warmed her bare shoulders. He kissed the nape of her neck and spun her
around.

  “Your dance moves have improved.” She chuckled.

  “Let’s just say that my basic training buddies may or may not have taught me a few things.”

  “Now that’s a funny sight, a bunch of grown men — Army men — teaching each other to dance.”

  Collier grinned. “It may or may not have happened. Ha, look at my buddies over there.” He nodded with his head, and then spun her twice. A breeze carried the scents the potato bar’s many succulent toppings past her nose. Her stomach growled. She eyed the buffet table. Bryant stood, shirt untucked, hands in his pocket.

  He waved and started in their direction.

  Her stomach lurched, and she stilled in Collier’s embrace.

  “What’s wrong?” The wrinkles on Collier’s forehead folded on top of each other.

  Whitleigh simply stared.

  “Oh.” Collier placed himself in front of Whitleigh. She sighed, grateful. “I’ll handle this.”

  Bryant held his hands out, palms facing the sky. “I’m not here to start anything.”

  “You were way out of line, Bryant.” Collier tightened his fist. Haden walked over, placing a hand on Collier’s shoulder, but remained silent.

  “I wanted to apologize to you and to Whit.” He huffed, his hand falling from the back of his neck. “I should’ve never done what I did.”

  “That’s right. We were friends, Bryant.”

  Bryant nodded. “We’ve all been friends a long time. I’m not expecting an overnight fix, but in time, I’d like to think we can move past what I did.”

  He seemed sincere. Whitleigh hung her arm through Collier’s, working to loosen his tense muscles. Whitleigh nodded. “In time, Bryant.”

  “That’s all I’m asking.” He grinned, but only for a moment. “May I talk with you Whit? In private?”

  “Is this a joke?” Collier stepped between Bryant and Whit.

  Whitleigh held Collier’s hand. Haden still hung close by. “It’s okay, Collier. I’ll talk with him, but we’ll stay out here for everyone to see.”

  “That’s fair.” Bryant nodded.

  Whitleigh watched Collier pop his knuckles. He swung his arms at his side.

  “I’m okay Collier.” She kissed his cheek and he relaxed his stance.

  Bryant extended a hand to Collier. Collier shook it, veins protruding on the back of his hand. Bryant pursed his lips and bowed out.

  Haden laughed and swatted at Collier’s shoulder. “Come hang out with me and Emms for a few minutes.”

  Whitleigh clutched the fabric of her dress and shuffled along by Bryant’s side. She smiled and waved at friends and family as she passed. “The food table’s far enough.”

  “That’s fair.” Bryant stopped and picked a grape from the table. He popped it in his mouth. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said to me.”

  “Oh.” Whitleigh folded her arms. The sequins scratched her forearms.

  “You’re wrong about me not loving you—”

  “C’mon Bryant, I’m married.”

  He held out a palm. “I do love you, as a friend, and you’re right.” He fidgeted with his fingers. “I’ve treated you like a challenge. I’ve done that with all the girls I’ve dated, or wanted to date, and I’m sorry.”

  No grin. No smirk. No winking. Bryant was serious. More serious than Whit had ever seen him. “I appreciate you saying that Bryant.”

  He gave a short nod and headed out.

  “Please stay. Have fun.” Whitleigh shrugged and offered a wide smile.

  Bryant tossed another grape in his mouth. “I’m sure I can find something fun in the midst of all the lights and lace.”

  “Ha. I’m sure you can.”

  “Whit.” Momma walked up. “Someone’s here to see you.”

  “Everyone’s here to see her, Ma’am.” Bryant winked.

  Whitleigh rolled her eyes and smiled as she followed behind Momma.

  “Looks like you two are friends again.”

  “On our way.” Whitleigh scooted past the food table, in front of the DJ, and through a crowd of family and friends. Her heels sank into the ground below her feet. “Where are we going?”

  “Right. Here.” Momma stopped beside the car lined driveway.

  Brady hopped from a pint-sized minivan.

  Whitleigh knelt and embraced the little boy. Her dress rustled beneath her as she lifted him up.

  “Momma and Daddy are here too.”

  “What?” A miracle. Her heart swelled. Whitleigh held on to him. “Look at how handsome you are in your suit and tie.”

  “I’ll go get Collier.” Momma hurried toward the festivities.

  Brady’s mom slid from the driver’s seat, opened up the sliding side door, and pulled out a wheelchair.

  “Let me help.” Whitleigh closed the space between them with one stride, Brady still very much attached to her. His mother accepted the offer with a kind smile.

  The chair clanked into place and Brady’s father slid from his seat into the wheelchair. Both legs were gone, but he was very much alive, and stronger than the last report. Whitleigh swallowed back her reservations.

  “Mr. Jacobs, thank you for coming.” How do you thank a man who’s done so much for his family and country?

  “We couldn’t miss meeting the woman who prays with our little boy.” He stretched out a hand. Whitleigh shook it and nodded. No words came.

  “Thank you for all you’ve done, Ms. Haynes, I mean, Mrs. Cromwell.” Brady’s mother hugged her. “You are breathtaking.”

  “Thank you Mrs. Jacobs.” Whitleigh’s face warmed. She blinked back tears. “You guys are thanking me, but your son has a fierce faith that’s helped me.”

  Collier joined Whitleigh at her side and slipped his arm around her waist. “I’m Collier. Thank you all for coming.” He extended a hand to Brady’s father. “Thank you for your service and sacrifice.”

  Mr. Jacobs nodded. They stared at one another for a moment, not needing to speak, as if they both understood many things about service and sacrifice, or perhaps those things that were to come.

  “We got you a gift,” Brady chirped, his voice higher pitched than usual.

  Mrs. Jacobs tugged a large frame from under the seat. “Psalm 91.”

  Whitleigh covered her mouth with the tips of her fingers.

  “The soldier’s prayer.” Mr. Jacobs gripped the painting. He adjusted his weight in the wheelchair and winced.

  “We prayed this for you, Daddy. Me and Ms. Haynes, I mean, Mrs. Cromwell.”

  “And we wanted the two of you to have it.” Mrs. Jacob’s didn’t hide her tears. “Your prayers have meant the world to our family. God has blessed us with friends and family during this time in our lives.”

  She knew the feeling. Collier intertwined his fingers with hers.

  “Please stay for a while. There’s plenty of food.” Collier gestured to the crowd. “I’m sure you’ll feel right at home.”

  Brady jumped up and down, pleading.

  “Just for a little bit, Brady.” His momma smoothed down his hair. “Daddy needs to get plenty of rest.”

  Mr. Jacobs smiled. “Best part about this injury, lots of rest, and service with a smile.” He tugged on his wife’s arms, pulling her down for a kiss.

  “Party’s this way.” Collier held the picture with one hand and Whitleigh’s hand with the other. Brady grabbed at her free hand and she swung her arm with his.

  Family and friends welcomed the Jacobs crew. Whitleigh watched Brady as he danced with Reese and Lennon. Professor Rhine chatted with Mr. Jacobs. Oh, the Army stories Mr. Jacobs must be listening to. Poor guy.

  Collier laughed and grabbed Whitleigh’s elbow. “We better get away from here before we get caught up in a European history lecture.”

  “You don’t see me arguing.” Whitleigh placed her hand in Collier’s. He led her toward the dance floor. “Dad outdid himself.” Her heels click-clacked on the old barn wood.

  Whitleigh lingered in Collier’s a
rms. She nuzzled at his cheek. “We made it.”

  “We made it.” Collier kissed the curve of her ear. They swayed to the sound of the wind as afternoon gave way to evening. Lightening bugs serenaded the dusk with their lights.

  “Things are about to change.” Whitleigh admired the glow of his skin in the faded daylight.

  “They already have.” The corner of his mouth lifted. “You scared?”

  She drew in a deep breath, thoughtful of her response. “I guess I could be.”

  “But?”

  “I don’t know what my future holds, but I know who holds my future.” Whitleigh looked up to heaven with a nod, and then kissed her soldier — her husband.

  Epilogue

  AND so it started—their last day. Whitleigh snuggled closer to Collier, her back buried into his chest. Heat radiated from his body and his chest rose and fell at a steady pace. She turned to her side, careful not to wake him. He had a long day ahead of him. So did she.

  Whitleigh propped herself up with an elbow. If she could hold on to this moment, to all the other moments they shared, perhaps being apart would be easier. She traced his face with the tip of her finger. Across his forehead, over the sharp line of his nose, and along the slight arch of his dark brows. Dozens of freckles dotted his strong, squared shoulders. She snickered and touched each one. If she connected the dots, what picture would appear?

  Collier stirred. Whitleigh leaned in and placed her lips on his.

  “I felt you staring at me.”

  “How could I not?” She kissed him again.

  “How did you sleep?” Collier rubbed sleep from his eyes.

  “Not sure I did.” Whitleigh reached for his hand and folded her fingers between his. “Sleeping wastes what little time we have together.”

  He didn’t speak. No need. She knew his thoughts—they were her own. Collier brushed her hair aside and kissed the nape of her neck. She’d miss that. Whitleigh closed her eyes.

  “I dreamt we were in Niagara Falls.” Collier tousled a lock of her hair. Whitleigh’s body warmed. “Why are you blushing Mrs. Cromwell?”