by Amanda Long
She felt her earlier doubt fade with Father Murphy's compliments. “Thank you.”
“You are most welcome, my dear,” Father Murphy responded, taking in the beauty standing before him. She stood perfectly still. However, his scrutiny rekindled her fears.
I knew it. He's sizing me up. Can he tell my worth just by looking?
As his piercing gaze lingered at her head, she felt the urge to check her hair for what had him so transfixed. Unfortunately, she didn't possess a free hand. Finally, she asked, “Is my hair sticking up, or is there something in it?”
“No, my dear,” Father Murphy shook his head. “Your hair is perfect. I was simply searching for your halo,” he added kindly.
“My halo?” She asked, dumbfounded.
“Yes, you must be an angel to have brought my Dorian back to me.” Father Murphy answered sincerely.
Her earlier fears of worthiness vanished completely. An angel was even better than a saint. “That's the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me,” she gushed.
Father Murphy cast a quick accusing glance to Dorian, and then smiled at Megan. “If that's the case, I need to have a chat with my son.”
“The ceremony?” Dorian asked after allowing her and his father a few minutes of mirth at his expense.
“Yes, yes,” Father Murphy said with a clap after releasing his hold on her. “I'm ready when you are.”
*****
Moments later, Megan stood in Dorian's tiny bedroom. Never again would she complain about the size of her apartment. She surveyed the meager room furnished with only the basic necessities. She was astonished with the faith required to endure life with so little. Fate had taken him far from his humble beginnings and she was glad. She felt guilty, but she couldn't help it. If he had not been turned, he would still be here serving God. She paused in her thoughts after realizing she was in a House of God enjoying the fact Dorian's life had taken him away from Him. Bowing her head in shame, she pleaded, “I'm sorry, Father. You lost a wonderful servant and I am happy because of it.” Raising her head to the heavens, she added her pledge, hoping to lessen the trespass she had just made. “I promise to take good care of him though, to love him for the rest of my life.” She glanced around the room searching for a sign of God's presence, believing He resided in all houses of worship.
“I AM HERE, MY DEAR,” God whispered, flowing in through the window on a gentle breeze.
“God?” She asked, feeling an immense love fill the room.
“YOU ARE WELL DESERVING OF MY ONCE FAITHFUL SERVANT. IF NOT FOR YOU HE WOULD STILL BE LOST TO ME.” Up and around He swirled twice, caressing and soothing her with HIS airy touch.
“Thank you,” she whispered as the breeze danced around the room and back out the window. The sudden loneliness created by the departure pulled her from her thoughts and back to her makeshift changing room. She gazed at her mother's wedding dress lying across Dorian's cot. She had always admired its simple timeless elegance, a delicate chiffon gown overlaid with a floral burnout, cap sleeves, and shirred empire waist bodice. She remembered staring at it as a young girl in her parents’ wedding picture, dreaming of her wedding day. Today was that day.
The soft fabric glided across her skin as she slipped into her mother's wedding dress. The dress fit her nearly perfect, disproving her belief she didn't possess her mother's statuesque frame. She smiled, realizing she was more like her mother than she thought. Donning a pair of strappy white heels made up for the two inches she lacked to keep the dress from dragging.
Conflicting emotions of loss and connection stirred within her. Her mother's presence was missed daily, but never as deeply as now. “I miss you, mom.” she whispered solemnly, looking to the heavens. “This is one of the most important days of my life, and I have to do it without you. You should be here to fuss over my hair, to hold my hand, to tell me everything is going to be okay when I get cold feet.” she dabbed at her eyes before the tears could fall, streaking her makeup. “I haven't forgotten about you, dad,” she added smiling. “You should be here to walk me down the aisle, to give me away to the only other man I've ever loved, and to give Dorian the ‘if you don't take great care of my little girl, I'll kill you’ glare.” She stopped herself before saying how unfair she thought it was for God to have deprived her of her parents on this special day. That wasn't how she truly felt; she never blamed God – unfair things happened, that was a part of life. Her faith told her, her parents where in a far better place. She looked down at the cross lying against her chest, so close to heart; the cool metal warming and calming her soul. “Although I can't see you or touch you, I know you're with me, watching from Heaven, like always.”
She pulled her hair up in a messy side bun adorned with the sapphire hair comb. Although she looked like a princess, this was not the fairytale wedding every little girl dreams of. Her sparkling castle on the hill had been replaced by a dimly lit old stone church. While Her Prince Charming was a vampire. And yet it seemed perfect.
She studied her reflection one last time in a full length mirror propped up against the only open space on the wall; a furnishing she was sure was borrowed for her benefit. She wondered what other things had been altered just for her. That's when she noticed a bouquet of flowers resting on the dresser. She brought the colorful bouquet up to her nose and breathed in the sweet scent of roses, lilies, daises, and others she had no name for.
*****
Dorian waited at the altar dressed in a dark gray suit, courtesy of Thomas. Once again, he was grateful for his former friend's impeccable taste. “Thank you,” he croaked after Father Murphy loosened the stripped tie, choking off what little air his nerves allowed him to inhale.
“Nervous, my son?” Father Murphy asked. Dorian nodded. Father Murphy placed a hand on his shoulder. “I understand. I have witnessed many grooms standing in your place with shaking hands and squeaking voices” Squeezing his shoulder gently, he added, “Worry not though. You have chosen wisely. There is no doubt you are making the right decision by marrying Megan.
Dorian relaxed a little. He had chosen wisely. Megan was perfect for him, but a tiny spot deep in the back of his mind, made him question was he right for her. Did she deserve his baggage? He couldn't fathom living without her though. She loved him, and he hoped that would be enough.
“Relax and breathe,” Father Murphy instructed.
Dorian obeyed, inhaling a deep breath. The musty scent of the church, the ancient stone, the well-worn Bibles and hymnals filled his lungs, calming him with their familiarity. He stood there calmly waiting to marry the love of his life.
*****
Dorian and his father held their breaths when Megan entered the sanctuary. Sunlight filtered in through the stain glass window, bathing her in a kaleidoscope of colors. Her beauty bathed in God’s glorious light forever erased the blood splattered image of the sanctuary still lingering deep within his soul. Dorian knew in that moment, his father was right. She was an angel sent to save him.
When she reached the altar, the couple took each other in for a moment. “You look,” both started at the same time. “You go first,” he insisted.
Blushing, she stammered, “I just wanted to say you look amazing. The dark gray brings out your eyes.”
“You look amazing too. Every time I see you, you’re more beautiful than before,” he gushed.
Father Murphy cleared his throat, interrupting the two love bird’s compliments to one another. “The ceremony?” He copied, payback for Dorian's earlier comment.
“Sorry,” they both replied, smiling as they turned their attention to him.
Looking to his future daughter-in-law, Father Murphy beamed, “I can see by your breathtaking beauty that you found the extra furnishings in Dorian's room sufficient.”
“Yes, I did, thank you,” she paused, not sure how she should refer to her soon to be father-in-law.
“Please call me father, my dear, not the formal salutation, mind you, but the one of endearing, for it is an ho
nor for me to hold that role for you,” Father Murphy smiled.
Touched deeply by his kindness, she nearly teared up again; her emotions, a roller coaster of epic proportions. “It is an honor for me as well to call you father.” She couldn't restrain herself. She removed her hand from Dorian's, handed him her bouquet, and embraced the old priest. “Thank you for raising such a caring, gentle man. I promise to take good care of him, to love him for the rest of my life.” She whispered into her father's ear, her earlier words to God. Accepting back her bouquet once she had relinquished her hold on her father, she asked. “Are you responsible for this beautiful bouquet?”
“I am,” Father Murphy bragged. “I find my little garden allows me to express my appreciation of the beauty of God's Creations.”
“Well, you possess quite the gift of horticulture.”
“Thank you, my dear.”
Dorian stood, arms across his chest, listening to the banter between his father and his bride. He enjoyed their immediate fondness of one another, but he grew impatient, especially since his gushing over his bride's beauty had been interrupted. “The ceremony?” He recited for the third and hopefully final time.
Father Murphy laughed, “Yes, yes. It seems we all keep getting a little distracted and off task. I apologize for my part in the hindering.”
“Me too,” Megan giggled. “When we have more time, I would love to learn more about you, your gardening, and young Dorian.”
“It's a date, my dear.” Father Murphy clasped his hands together. “Let me begin by saying how honored I am to have the privilege of presiding over this ceremony.” He glanced between them. “I never imagined I would be standing here before my son and such a lovely young lady, about to do my part in solidifying the union between two souls. I could not be happier. I just hope I will be able to make it through the entire process without breaking down.”
She mouthed a “me too” instead of speaking aloud, in hopes of not derailing the proceedings another time.
“Dorian, Megan, let’s begin with a word of prayer.”
They bowed their heads while Father Murphy lifted his hands and head to the heavens. “Heavenly Father, bless this union between Megan and Dorian.”
God heeded Father Murphy's request and happily obliged, imparting more of His Spirit than usual to fill up every corner, crack and crevice of the church this day, hoping His increased presence would bless their union beyond measure.
Feeling the increased presence of His Lord, Father Murphy continued his plea with increased vigor. “Allow their love to be a beacon of light to those around them. Bless them with integrity, trust, and forgiveness, so they shall not be tempted to forsake each other. Allow their joining to be a haven for their souls. Amen. Now the vows: Is there anything you would like to say to one another?”
Dorian nodded then turned to face her. “The night we collided, I had no idea the young woman I rescued from the pavement would one day rescue me from a far worse fate. When you found me, the spark of my soul was barely a flicker. Nearly snuffed out by my own self-hatred, now my soul is a blaze kindled by your light. You inspire me to be the best person I can be. I promise to love you for eternity.”
She blushed at the mention of their head-on collision. The sweetness of his words melted her heart, making it difficult for her to speak. Finally, she found her voice. “Since my parents passing, without their constant reminder of how strong love could be, I had stopped believing a love such as theirs was possible. Thank you for proving me wrong. I promise to love you forever.”
“Wonderful.” Father Murphy clapped; his eyes full of happy tears. “Those were lovely. Now the rings.” He pulled a ring from an inside pocket of his robe. Dorian, place Megan's ring on her left ring finger and repeat after me.”
He obeyed, slipping the matching wedding ring onto her trembling finger “I give this ring as a symbol of my love and faithfulness.”
“Megan now you,” Father Murphy instructed.
She held out her hand to Father Murphy, who looked confused for a moment.
“Oh, sorry.” Father Murphy muttered, looking at the ring still in his hand. “Here you go, my dear. I apologize for my elderly moment.” Father Murphy laughed as he handed the ring to Megan, “Repeat after me.”
She accepted the wedding ring bought from an antique shop. She had little hope of finding a ring to match her own. Not until he slipped her wedding ring onto her finger did she realize how perfectly they complemented one another. She breathed out a heavy breath to steady herself as she slipped the ring on Dorian's finger. “I give this ring as a symbol of my love and faithfulness.”
“Well it looks as though we both survived this momentous occasion without a breakdown,” Father Murphy spoke to her.
“Indeed,” she replied, though she had barely held in her tears during the process.
Father Murphy bowed his head. “Let us close with a prayer. Heavenly Father, please surround Dorian and Megan with Your Love. Keep them close to You always. Keep them ever faithful to each other and to You, in Jesus’ precious Name, Amen.”
“Amen.” They repeated as they raised their heads.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride,” Father Murphy exclaimed.
Dorian leaned down, softly placing his lips to Megan's. He resisted kissing her like he truly wanted in front of his father, that kiss would come later.
Chapter 19
Traditions
“You missed the turn.” Megan noted as she watched the green exit sign slip from her line of sight.
“I know,” Dorian replied without turning his gaze from the road.
She stared at his side profile, brows knitted, awaiting an explanation for their change in course. He struggled to hide his smile as he felt her eyes bore into the side of his face. After a few minutes of silence, she demanded, “Do I get to know where we are going?”
“No.” He shook his head. “It's a surprise.”
“Will this surprise require a blindfold?” She asked apprehensively.
He turned to his new bride, a flirtatious grin gracing his face. “Maybe,” he crooned seductively.
She turned nervously back to the window, her body overheating.
A blindfold? What exactly is Dorian expecting on our wedding night? Is he envisioning some kind of kinky S and M?
She bit down on her bottom lip, as she imagined herself blindfolded and handcuffed to a bed.
I can't even bring myself to read about that kind of sex, much less participate in it. Relax. We're both virgins. Besides, he's the son of a priest, where would he get the idea of kinky sex – Thomas?
Lost in her assumptions, she jumped when he placed his hand on her thigh.
“Are you okay?” He asked, concerned by her heavy breathing.
“Yeah,” she squeaked.
“I promise. You will enjoy my surprise. Blindfolds, optional.” He reassured as he gently rubbed her leg.
His words calmed her but his touch caused her body to reheat, making it impossible for her thoughts to veer from the upcoming evening.
Pulling to the curb, a couple of blocks from their destination, he turned to Megan. “We're almost there. For you to be completely surprised, I would like to blindfold you, but only if you're comfortable with the prospect. I promise it will be brief.”
“Okay.” She turned her head to allow him to render her sightless.
He removed the tie he had worn to their wedding from his jacket pocket and carefully covered her eyes. “Good?” He inquired, breathing softly in her ear.
“Yes,” she whimpered, his warm breath intensifying the heat her body battled.
He gently tied the ends of the tie, then glided a hand down her back before returning his hands to the steering wheel; his touch stoking her desire. The passion her body experienced at the slightest touch both excited and terrified her. She sat there in silence yearning for more contact until she felt the car park and the ignition turn off.
“We're here,” he a
nnounced. “I'll come around and help you get out.”
She waited, listening intently for the opening of her door. She jumped slightly when she felt his hand grab her arm. “Sorry. The blindfold won't be necessary for much long,” he promised.
“Fine,” she sighed. “Next time though, you're the one getting blindfolded,” she declared as he helped her out of the car.
“I look forward to it,” he teased as he steered her to their final destination.
Blindness was something Megan hoped she would never get used to. The vulnerability and dependence it produced was horrific. She worried it might become a common occurrence since he had blindfolded her twice in three days. Hopefully he could space his surprises out farther in the future. Her inner thoughts distracted her from most of the journey.
“We're here,” he announced as he removed her blindfold. They were standing in front of a large wooden door, with an elevator directly behind them. He opened the door and scooped her up into his arms. “Welcome to your honeymoon suite, Mrs. Murphy!” He announced as he grabbed her up and carried her over the threshold.
She had been so rushed preparing for the wedding, their honeymoon hadn't even crossed her mind. Speechless, she graced his cheek with numerous kisses before being released.
She stood in the doorway to the fanciest place she had ever seen. Just the living area she stood in was larger than her whole apartment. Several doors led to unseen areas. One entire wall existed of glass. She walked over to the window and took in the cityscape stretched out for miles beneath her. They were at least fifty stories high. She carefully took a few precautionary steps back.
He joined her. “Beautiful isn’t it?”
“Tremendously beautiful,” she answered glancing to him and then back at the view, when the danger of it hit her. “Dorian, are you crazy?!” She shouted.
