Rising from the couch Stephen goes to Celeste and takes her hands into his own. Rubbing his thumb against the ring finger of her left hand he feels something missing. Taking his eyes from her beautiful face he looks down and discovers that she has removed his ring. “Where is your ring?” he asks smoothly and determined.
“I took it off and placed it...”
“Go get it,” he commands.
“I will, but first I want to kiss and make up,” Celeste says as she slips her arms around his neck
Firmly but gently, removing her hands from where she has placed them, he tsk tsks while shaking his head and says, “Go get it. Now, Celeste.”
Celeste resides herself to obedience and turns to go retrieve the ring from where she placed it on her desk. Returning with the ring to stand in front of him she begins to place it on her finger.
But Stephen removes it from her hand and tips her chin to look into her eyes. “Never, and I do mean never, remove this from your hand again. Do I make myself clear?”
It’s not like Celeste to take orders from anyone, let alone a man. But knowing that all this is her fault, she decides it better to accept his soft chastening. “I promise.”
“Speaking of promises, I told you that when you realized that you were wrong that you were going to have to promise to trust me. How about it?”
“I promise to trust you and should I ever get any crazy notions, I will speak to you directly about them instead of running off half-cocked and jumping to conclusions. Now, may I have my ring back,” Celeste adds feeling light hearted and playful.
Stephen smiles and gently places the ring where it was meant to rest for a lifetime. Taking her into his arms they seal their make up with a kiss.
Epilogue
The wedding will go off without a hitch; at least that is what Celeste tries to convince herself of. So far, millions of things have gone wrong, and it’s only 10 am. The flowers have not yet arrived at the church, the limousine service has called because they don’t have all five of the white limousines that she requested, they only have two, and the reception hall has yet to be cleaned and decorated.
“There must be a way to make everything right,” Celeste says to herself as she looks at her reflection in the mirror. Celeste knows the answer lies not in solving the problem but relying on God to solve them for her. Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves and her shaking hands, she prays that God will line all her ducks in a row.
Surely, it is not meant that what is suppose to be the most momentous day in a woman’s life is going to turn out to be the most unorganized event in the history of mankind. No, she chastises herself for falling back on her “stinkin’ thinkin’”. All will go as planned.
“Mom!”
“What is it, Baby?”
“I really need your help.” Celeste runs down the list of
problems that have crept up overnight.
“Is that all, Honey? All will be well. You just go ahead
and start getting dressed, I will handle everything.” When Momma says that she will handle things, then
things are as good as handled. Celeste’s nerves are still on edge. It’s a special day indeed when a woman commits her life to a man for better or worst, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health ‘til death does them part. Or is the minister going to say, for as long as they both shall live? Yeah, that’s it. There is to be no mention of death on this
happy occasion.
Only life, and a joyful one at that. Celeste is so grateful.
Today is no exception, once again; mother has come to the
rescue.
“Mom, how did you get the limos here, on time and in
the right color?”
“Don’t you worry your pretty little head over that dear,
just know that mother handled it.”
And she handled everything else as well, the reception
hall called while Celeste was in route to the church and said
that everything had been decorated and was in perfect
order for the wedding party to arrive. And when Celeste
stepped into the church, all the flowers had been delivered
and arranged according to her specifications. Celeste could
now breathe a sigh of relief.
Celeste quickly hurries to the dressing room. When she
steps into the dressing haul it is a blur of motion and
commotion, hair stylist, manicurists, make-up artists, you
name it. If they are used in the beauty field in one way or
another, they are in this room.
Celeste just lets herself go; she lets herself go with the
flow and the rhythm of things so that everyone can do their
job without any fuss or interference from her.
As the wedding march begins to play, she knows the
time has come. In a moment there would be no turning
back, but there would be no need for Celeste is confident
that neither bride nor groom wanted anything other than to
spend the rest of their lives together.
Looking down the long aisle, Celeste is hit with a sense
of deja vu that she knew only came from the dream she had
where she had married Stephen. But this is not a dream,
she has only to glance around the crowded sanctuary in
recognition of all the familiar faces of family and lifelong
friends for reassurance that this is indeed reality.
Celeste’s throat begins to close and feel choked up as
the minister begins addressing the congregation. Most of
the minister’s words go by in a blur as Celeste is only
aware of her steel like grip on Stephen’s hand. One
sideways glance into his face and watching how intently he
is hanging on every word of the minister, brings calm to her
nerves, and she is able to relax and focus more on what the
minister is saying.
“Do you, Howard, take Laura, to be your lawfully
wedded wife? To have and to hold, in sickness and in
health, for richer or poorer, forsaking all others cleave only
to her, for as long as you both shall live?”
“I do.”
“Do you, Laura, take Howard, to be your lawfully
wedded husband? To have and to hold, in sickness and in
health, for richer or poorer, forsaking all others, cleave
only to her for as long as you both shall live?”
“I do.”
After a few more instructions, the minister says what
everyone has gathered here to hear, “By the power vested
in me, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss
the bride.”
“See,” a voice whispers in Celeste’s ear, “Everything is
just fine.”
Celeste reaches up to wrap her arms around the man
who has been her partner for the past 27 years, “I love you,
Stephen. And I would marry you 100 times over again to
prove it.”
Stephen kisses his wife gently on her slightly parted lips,
“You don’t have to prove it; you prove it every day in
hundreds of ways. And I am the luckiest man alive to be
able to call you my wife. And just thinking of all the awful
things you thought of me 27 years ago when we first met
makes me want to say, ‘I told you so.’”
“And I’m certainly glad that you did. Can you believe it?
Our daughter just got married!”
“Hmm. I’ll tell you one thing, I’m glad, for more reason
than one that we only have one daughter. This shin dig cost
a bundle.”
While they may only have one daughter, Celeste has
additionally given Stephen two strapping sons, Mark and
Kenneth. Knowing that her husband is only trying to
lighten the mood, she squeezes him tight and kisses him on
the chin. “Well, I don’t think this is the last wedding we
will be attending in the short term. Have you seen the way
Mark has been making goo goo eyes at Laura’s friend
Kelly?”
Stopping his wife in mid turn Stephen says, “Now don’t
you go getting any ideas in that head of yours.” With a
gesture to incorporate the span of the room that is crowded
with loved ones and a distinctive glance in the direction of
Kenny, Stephen’s base player, he adds, “You see what
happened the last two times you decided to play match
maker. Poor Kenny and Sharon have only been married 2
years and are now expecting twins. They aren’t going to
get one first baby but two first babies.
“And Laura, I told you I never wanted her to get
married, she was supposed to become an old unwed
spinster.”
Feeling absolutely no remorse for her husband’s
impractical plan, Celeste takes Stephen by the hand and gently tugs, “It’s time to go meet and greet. So put on your
happy face and pretend that this didn’t cost you a fortune.” Stephen just can’t resist his wife. Even after 27 years of
marriage, his love for her continues to grow. Trying to be
as inconspicuous as humanly possible, he sneaks a squeeze
to her bottom.
Or at least he attempts to as he his caught with one swift
glance from her over her shoulder. “And stop thinking what
you’re thinking.”
Sneak Preview from
Wife of Mine
Rushing, rushing. Venus always found herself rushing. She would be late to her own funeral. As she ran across the expansive yard of the university, she tries to focus on the notes she has been diligently going over since six o’clock that morning while also trying to keep from falling, as laden down with books as she is.
Her backpack is jarring the bottom of her spine, but she can’t stop running. If she does not make it inside the class by the time the class door is closed, she will miss her calculus test. Mr. Smith does not like tardiness, and he does not allow it on test days.
She glances quickly at her watch; she has two minutes to make it in the door and is she almost there. She will make it; Venus begins to feel some calm coming over her frantic nerves. She is confident she knows her material and that she will pass, but first she has to make it there on time.
As she rounds the final corner that will lead her to her class, she runs into a wall that has suddenly moved into her path and sent her sprawling onto her backside. The extra weight of her backpack only serves as an anchor to make it harder for her to shake off her surprise and rise to her feet.
“I’m sorry. Here, let me help you,” a deep masculine voice speaks to her. When she looks up to see who it has come from, she finds herself looking into the most beautiful blue eyes she has ever seen. Although her mouth isn’t currently functioning, her brain is, she holds out her hand and allows herself to be brought to her feet.
A jolt of pain suddenly goes through her ankle as she tries to place weight on her left foot. “Ouch” she howls. Venus has never been one for tolerating pain. That is why she never played any sports; she preferred to sit on the sidelines, unlike the man who was currently holding on to her to keep her from falling.
Mark Watson, captain and quarterback of the university football team. He has it all; looks, money, charm, and fame. Oh how she envies him. He doesn’t have to work part time to keep food on his table or work his butt off to keep good grades in order to maintain his scholarship.
Not that he doesn’t have good grades; he does, which came as a shock to Venus when she found his name on the Dean’s list for academic achievements.
“You’re hurt. Let me help you sit down.”
“No! You don’t understand. I need to take my calculus test. If I am not in Mr. Smith’s class in,” she looks at her watch, “thirty nine seconds, I am history.”
“Then I’ll make sure you get there.” Without another word, he bends down and scoops her up against his muscular chest. With his long strides, he makes it inside her class with seconds to spare. “Where’s your seat?” he asks once they have stepped inside the classroom door.
Venus is too taken aback to speak, so she points to the last open seat in the back, which she usually never sits in. She has always been the type to sit in front of the class but then again, she has never been carried into class before.
After setting Venus into an empty chair, Mark leans down to look her in the eye as she settles her back pack on the floor at her feet and fumbled in it for a number two pencil to take the test with. “I’ll be back to take care of you when you’re done with your exam.”
Having said that, he turns on his heals and heads out the classroom. At least that is what Venus assumed. As she follows him with her eyes open wide, she sees him stop next to Mr. Smith’s desk and say something to him in hushed tones. She knows she is being spoken of when Mark looks back at her and gestures towards her.
Venus is highly embarrassed. However, she doesn’t have time to reflect on it. Right now she needed to focus on her test. Once the question sheet, scratch paper and Scantron sheets are passed out, everything except the task before her, flees from Venus’ mind.
The test takes her a little less than an hour to complete. She slowly pushes herself up from the desk that she occupies but is waived to sit back down by Mr. Smith. She lowers herself back into her seat, relieved that she won’t have to struggle to the front of the class to turn in her test sheet.
Venus watches Mr. Smith go to the classroom door and stick his head out before making his way down the aisle to where she sits. From her desk Mr. Smith picks up her Scantron answer sheet. And just who does she see coming quietly into the classroom in Mr. Smith’s wake? Mark Watson. What is he doing here?
Her question is answered as he comes and kneels down in front of her and takes her left foot into his hands. “How’s your ankle feeling?”
“It...It’s still sore.”
Mark looks into and becomes lost in soft hazel eyes. Her skin is the color of caramel and her hair the color chocolate. What a powerful combination, sweet and satisfying. He can only imagine that kissing her will taste just as good as she looks. But he wouldn’t be finding out just yet. Something else must take priority over his attraction. “Why don’t we see what we can do for it?”
Again, he scoops her into his arms and in the same fell swoop, takes hold of her backpack before he carries her from the classroom with everyone gawking at them. Mark doesn’t care. He has never been one to care what people thought of him, or if they ever thought of him at all.
All his life he has always received unwanted attention for everything he did. He couldn’t help that he had been born with a proverbial spoon in his mouth and that from childhood he had been groomed to take over his father’s investment firm.
Although he has a head for investments, he’s unable to pin point his strategy. He watches the market just as fastidiously as anyone who has a lot of money invested, but he relies more on his intuition and gut feeling than charts and graphs.
In his own right, he is well on his way to becoming a millionaire, and he is only a senior in college. The surprising aspect to his parents is that although he has proved his talent for investments he is not inclined to settle into the family business just yet. He prefers to play football.
His first game had been in junior high at the local park with some school friends. He took to it like a fish to water. It was only natural that he would pursue it in high school and then on to college. What is surprising is that a national football team was scouting him. The Crows had shown up to several of his games last semester and had begun contacting him
just a few short weeks ago. They actually want to recruit him. They feel sure that they can develop his talent even further and that in a few short years, he can lead the team to the play offs and maybe even to the super bowl.
Having been the team with the worst record in last year’s football season meant that they would have first pick in the NFL Draft Pick. Although they have the right to choose him whether he liked it or not, the owner of the Crows would prefer that every member of his team, be there because they feel that they can contribute to the team and help make them a successful organization.
Mark is not too sure of all that, but if signing with the Crows means he can continue his passion, then he will do it. Just a few short months are left before he will graduate university and be free to pursue his passion full time. He has a lot to look forward to.
Looking down into the face of the beauty he carries in his arms gives him even more on which to look forward. However, he doesn’t even know her name. “By the way, my name is Mark. Mark Watson.”
“Oh, I know who you are. You are the quarter back for the university football team.”
Mark is not too surprised that this beauty would know whom he is, many people know who he was. Nevertheless, he can’t believe that he has never seen her around before. If she is in Mr. Smith’s class, he should have run into her before now. He smiles inwardly at the pun.
“Well, I must admit that you have me at a disadvantage. I’m afraid I don’t know your name.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m Venus Walters.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Venus Walters. I only wish it had been under better circumstances. Where’s your car parked?”
“Oh, I caught the bus today. My car’s leaking oil so I decided it would be better to let it sit until I can get a mechanic to look at it.”
“Well then, we’ll just have to head to my car.”
Venus looks up into Mark’s face with wide eyes and asks, “Why are we going to your car?”
“We certainly should have your ankle looked at. Although I doubt seriously that it is broken, or else I would have made you skip the test, it still would be wise to see to it.”
“I’m sure it’s not broken. I just need to wrap it and put some ice on it. I’m sure it will feel much better by tomorrow.”
A Wife for Stephen Page 19
