by Pat Simmons
Before the day was over, they had spoken twice and texted each other three times with their standard message: Thinking about you. Later that night, after a long, hot bath, she read from her Bible. When she knelt beside her bed to pray, she couldn’t explain it, but she felt unsettled in her soul. It wasn’t the first time this had happened. The past two nights, God had awakened her in the middle of slumber and told her to pray.
The devil was busy somewhere, scheming to wreak havoc, roaming the earth to find whom he could devour. Someone was in dire need—or maybe it was Shari. She shook it off as a burden for intercessory prayer for someone else and climbed into the bed. Sleep came instantly.
Chapter 33
Happy New Year!” Garrett hugged Shari at the stroke of midnight during the annual Watch Meeting Night Service at church. “A new year, a new life. I’m days away from making you my wife.”
On the day of the wedding, Shari and her sisters spent the morning at AnBrea Beauty’s Salon in East Falls for the works. The hours of downtime until the ceremony were supposed to be relaxing, but all it did was make Shari antsy.
“Why did I suggest an evening ceremony?” she chided herself as she checked the time.
“Because you wanted an affair to remember,” Stacy said in a calm voice as she rubbed her protruding baby bump. “It will be time before you know it.”
And her big sister was right. Soon they were transported to the church, where Shari and the bridesmaids would finish getting ready. With her fashion sense, Faith applied Shari’s makeup.
“This will give you a more dramatic look,” her friend said as she applied various colors of eye shadow that Shari had ever thought would complement her dark skin.
“The gold skimmer will make your eyes seductive.” Faith stood back and admired her work, which received plenty of oohs and aahs from the other ladies in the room.
Phoebe glanced out the window. “It looks like the Lord will be sprinkling blessings on you and my son this evening. The forecast for snow has proven correct—they’re predicting three inches or more.” Her future mother-in-law seemed concerned. “I hope your guests can make it.”
“It doesn’t matter if they do or don’t,” Shari’s mother told her daughter with a reassuring smile. Shari had never seen her mother so glamorous. “We’re here to witness your marriage to a Christian man who I believe to be a man after God’s own heart.”
“What a difference a year makes,” Deborah said, giving Shari’s long fingers a loving squeeze. “My brother left Boston as a broken man, but you were able to put him back together again. You make his eyes light up that I doubt they’ll ever go dim again.”
“Thank you, Deborah.” Shari’s words choked in her throat. She glanced around the room and saw that everyone’s eyes were glazed over with happiness for her.
When a knock sounded on the door, Shari took a deep breath to ward off the nervousness. “How is it possible to be ecstatic and scared at the same time?”
Her mother hugged her. “It’s part of life, but you’re marrying a Christian man who is also a Deputy U.S. Marshal. He will vow to protect you, and I believe he’ll do an exemplary job.”
“Thanks, Momma.” She refused to cry, even tears of joy, as, one by one, the members of the bridal party slipped out of the dressing room. Once Shari was alone, she whispered a prayer. “Lord, I thank You for this man and for the opportunity to be his wife.”
“It’s time,” Uncle Bradford whispered from the other side of the door.
“Coming.” As Shari stepped out the room, she saw a latecomer hurry into the church, propelled by a gust of blustery wind. Because they had opted for a small, historic chapel for the cozy setting instead of the large sanctuary at Jesus Is the Way Church, they were at the mercy of the weather that assaulted the weakened hinges of the entry doors and swept powdery snow through the cracks.
Shari made her way down the short hall taking baby steps and soon made her appearance in the doorway to the chapel. The candlelight cast the perfect glow she had dreamed of. Garrett and his groomsmen stood at attention on one side of the altar, her bridesmaids on the other. She couldn’t see Garrett’s face, but she could feel his stare. Her heart fluttered. Instead of having the traditional wedding march music, her processional was “I Believe in You and Me,” played by none other than her groom on his tenor saxophone.
When he blew the first note, Shari began to glide down the aisle. Wearing five inch heels, she focused on every step in order to avoid tripping and falling.
She was almost at her destination when the wind forced the unlocked door open and pushed her forward. Garrett shoved his sax into the empty hands of her cousin Victor and immediately steadied her.
“You look amazing, baby.” Garrett’s voice was low and husky.
Her hubby-to-be looked devastatingly handsome with a thin five o’clock shadow that had been trimmed. Shari reached out to touch his jaw, but he captured her hand and kissed her palm.
“Ready to be my wife?”
Swallowing, Shari could only nod as he guided her to the flower-draped brass archway where Pastor Underwood awaited them. He gave them an approving nod.
“Dearly beloved,” the pastor began, “we are gathered here today in the sight of God and these witnesses to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony.” He paused, then looked over the rim of his reading glasses. “Who gives this bride away?”
In addition to Uncle Bradford’s response, her mother, Aunt Camille, and even Victor and Dino’s voices blended as a backup chorus.
Shari was amused by their antics, but Garrett grunted. “You’ve been in safekeeping.”
“Marriage is more than hugs, kisses, and babies,” Pastor Underwood continued. He admonished them to resist temptations laid by other men and women, warned then to be mindful of the devil’s traps, and exhorted them not to take each other for granted. Finally, he led them in the exchange of the traditional marriage vows.
As the ceremony drew to a close, he said, “What God has joined together, let no man or woman separate, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.” He grinned at Garrett. “Brother Nash, you may now salute your bride.”
Garrett’s movements were deliberate as he slowly lifted her veil. “I love you,” he whispered before gathering her in his arms and delivering the sweetest kiss that rendered her helpless.
She melted in his arms as he deepened the kiss, to the sounds of catcalls and applause.
Pastor Underwood beamed at the congregation. “Ladies and gentlemen, sisters and brothers, I present to you Mr. and Mrs. Garrett Nash.”
All the guests were on their feet, clapping or taking photos, with camera flashes flickering across the room. Suddenly Shari was struck with the realization that she no longer was a Carmen. When Garrett had asked if she planned to retain her maiden name for professional purposes, her answer had seemed to both surprise and delight him.
“I’ve been a Carmen for thirty years, and I want to be a Nash even longer,” she had informed him. “If I wear your ring, I’m wearing your name. I can’t wait to change everything on my legal documents.”
Garrett kissed her one more time, bringing her back to the present, before they took their stroll down the aisle. There was no other way to describe Garrett’s leisurely pace. And it didn’t appear as if Shari could rush him. Garrett grinned and slapped the hands of well-wishers as if they weren’t going to have a receiving line. Or maybe he was stalling their carriage ride through the snow.
Once they reached the vestibule, the wind slammed the double doors open again, as if to salute them. Snow danced around their feet, and Shari caught a glimpse of their carriage. Instead of a white horse, she had requested a black stallion. She blinked at the amount of snow that had fallen since they’d entered the church. But it didn’t matter. They were married, and no weather would derail the celebration.
The ushers hurried to shut the doors, and then Shari was separated from her husband for the first time as their attendants bundled them warmly
for the elements. As if an imaginary line stood between them, they flirted with each other. Garrett winked; Shari blushed. She blew him kisses, and he pretended to catch them and place them over his heart.
Shari lifted an eyebrow, admiring the look of Garrett’s tall, handsome, buff figure wearing a black top hat—definitely a black version of Fred Astaire. When he slipped on a full-length faux fur coat, she changed her opinion—Super Fly. Either way, her husband was fine and irresistible.
Maybe the same thoughts were going through Garrett’s mind, for his nostrils flared when her sisters helped her into a white fur jacket. Tilting his head, he seemed amused when Brecee tried to delicately stuff her curls under a matching ball-shaped faux fur hat. Her mother handed her a fur muff for her hands.
Once Brecee gave him the nod, Garrett took two long strides to gather her in his arms again. “Princess, our chariot awaits us.”
Inside the carriage, Garrett tucked a faux mink blanket around her and scooted her closer to him. Well-wishers stood outside to see them off, ringing tiny handbells.
“Happy?” he asked her as the horse began to trot away, guided by the driver.
“Yes.” She smiled and lifted her face toward the snow that seemed to shower her with wet kisses. Then she turned back to him. “I know it’s love that you’re willing to freeze just to make me happy.”
“I’ll let you in on a secret,” he whispered in her ear. “I’m wearing thermo underwear.”
They laughed between kisses and soft declarations of love until they realized their unhurried carriage driver had arrived at the reception site, two miles away. Garrett helped her down from the carriage, and she saw that the groomsmen had beaten them there and swept rather than shoveled a path through the snow. Garrett scooped her up in his arms and carried her inside.
“I don’t know how tall your heels are, but you are not breaking your neck on our honeymoon night,” he mumbled.
He didn’t set her down until they were inside the banquet room. Large silver snowflakes hung throughout the space, but it was the floor-to-ceiling water fountain in the center that was the most breathtaking decoration. Shari blinked, then frowned when she realized that the hostesses and ushers, dressed in fairy costumes, were her mother’s dance students.
“Welcome to your fairy tale, Mrs. Nash,” Garrett said as the bridal party joined them to form a receiving line.
***
Garrett couldn’t help but stare at his wife. She’d wanted a fairy tale, but she was his happily-ever-after. The reception—from the company to the food to the musical entertainment—would always be a wonderful memory, but it was just a prelude.
When the snowfall surpassed four inches, Garrett’s grandfather generously offered to put up any guests who hadn’t made hotel reservations in a room for the night. Since the adjoining hotel had a four-star rating, none of the guests complained. Not to be outdone, Bradford Carmen offered to feed the guests breakfast with a lavish buffet the next day.
However, the inclement weather spoiled Garrett’s plans to whisk his wife away to the Hershey Hotel. Thinking fast, his groomsmen scrambled to secure the honeymoon suite for them. After a few hours of pictures, dancing, and congratulations, they slipped out and took a private elevator to the top floor.
“I’ve loved you for so long,” Garrett mumbled, nibbling on her lips as soon as the doors closed.
“I’ve waited for you so long.”
When the elevator doors opened, Garrett lifted Shari in his arms once more. She giggled at his scowl when the swipe card didn’t work after two tries. “I do not have time to return to the front desk for a new card.”
Taking the card from his hand, Shari gently slid it in the slot, and the green light came on. “Voilà.”
From the moment he lowered her to the floor inside the suite, their eyes never left each other. He could tell she was a little nervous when he began to unzip her grown and she stopped him.
“I’ve never undressed in front of a man before, but I want to in front of my husband. Be patient with me.”
Garrett nodded. He sat on the edge of the bed and loosened his bow tie. When the yards of lace and pearls crumbled at her feet, his jaw dropped. Slowly, his eyes perused his wife. She was wearing white fur shoes—he hadn’t known they made such a thing. Her curls fell as she pulled pin after pin from her dark hair. When she finished, the package she presented to him was undeniable. The diamond on her finger shone as bright as the rhinestone in her navel—another surprise.
“You like?” she asked, looking doubtful, then moved toward him. “It was Brecee’s idea. You like?”
Again, he nodded. When she was within reach, he wrapped his arms around her waist and gently kissed her belly. “I love all of you, and I’m glad we saved ourselves for each other. The Word of God is right. Fornication is a yoke because of the consequences. What we have is pure.” He reached for the light switch, and the room went totally dark, except for the shaft of moonlight peeping through their window.
Chapter 34
Marriage was far better than Shari had imagined it would be. She loved playing house with her husband, taking care of him, and discussing the details of their jobs. One of Garrett’s favorite sayings, “My grandfather has his Queen, and now I have mine,” always reminded her of his love when he didn’t say those three words.
One of the benefits of their marriage was the prayer time they shared. Shari enjoyed snuggling under Garrett while he prayed. Even when she grew quiet, he kept going. Many nights, his whispered prayers lulled her to sleep.
One night, as they cuddled in bed, Garrett playing with her hair, Shari voiced a recent concern. “I’m wondering if I can have children.” She couldn’t help but frown. “I didn’t get pregnant on our honeymoon, and I’ve been Mrs. Nash for four months and a day.”
Garrett chuckled. “Baby, we can’t rush God, but we can have fun until He sends us that blessing.” He stroked her cheek in the dark. “We’ll keep praying for God’s will to be done in our lives. We can’t go wrong with that.”
“I know.” She sighed. “I guess I’m just anxious about being a mommy.”
You have made your requests unto Me, so don’t be anxious, God whispered, reminding her of Philippians 4:6.
“Amen.”
“I didn’t say anything,” Garrett pointed out.
“But God did.”
“Well then, amen, my lovely wife.” He brushed a kiss in her hair. “Let’s get some sleep. I have an early-morning surveillance scheduled.”
Shari awoke the next morning feeling refreshed in the empty bed. As she began her day, she smiled at the note Garrett had left her on the kitchen counter.
I love you more today than yesterday. I pray that the Lord will keep my wife safe, in Jesus’ name. Amen.
“Two days until Saturday.” Shari grinned. It was the norm for them to be inseparable on the weekends, whether they were at home doing laundry, cooking, and cleaning, or whether they were out and about, shopping or running errands. They took being “one flesh” seriously.
But on Saturday after breakfast, when it was time to head to the church for band practice, Shari sighed. “I wish we could play hooky today.” She couldn’t help her naughty thoughts regarding her husband.
“Say the word, woman, and I’ll call John and have a ready excuse.” Garrett grinned and mischievously wiggled his black silky brows before pulling her into a soothing embrace.
“Oh, I guess we shouldn’t skip it. The Lord brought us together through the band, after all. We’d better go to practice, but the minute it’s over, I want your undivided attention.” Shari puckered her lips for a kiss, and Garrett delivered.
“I just remembered, the Odunde Festival is going on downtown,” Garrett reminded her. “Would you want to head over there after rehearsal?”
How could Shari have forgotten about the festival? For more than forty years, the weeklong event had drawn hundreds of thousands of people to experience the cultures of Africa showcased in one of Philly’s
oldest historically African-American neighborhoods. “Sounds like fun. It’s a date.”
The following Saturday, Garrett accompanied the men’s ministry to an all-male prison while Shari attended band practice. Afterward, back at home, Shari wrapped herself in one of his shirts just to smell his scent. Lonely, she retrieved her “single life souvenir” book from a hatbox in her closet. Taking a seat on the floor amid her shoes, Shari crossed her legs and fingered the dried roses that she had strategically placed on the cover.
Opening the book, Shari smiled at the very first love note Garret had sent her. It said, “You’re mine, and I’m yours.” The others weren’t long letters on scented stationary, just notes on napkins, Post-it notes, index cards—anything that had been within his reach at the time, it seemed—which made them all the more special to her. Shari liked knowing that she was in his thoughts at all times.
That hadn’t stopped after they said “I do,” and she hoped it never would. It seemed that her husband got a kick out of hiding notes in unexpected places, prompting her to be on a perpetual scavenger hunt for them, even if it meant emptying her purse.
One day, Garrett had forgotten to plant a love note in her bag, so he’d made a special delivery. Shari had been almost finished with her presentation in court when she felt someone’s eyes on her in a way that made her shiver. It had seemed that the person was watching her every move—maybe because she was sharply dressed in her favorite powder-blue suit and matching heels.
While she had waited for the judge’s response, she’d scanned the courtroom. In the back, on the last bench, she’d spotted her husband seated with his arms folded, appraising her attire. Garrett had smirked, then curved his lips into a naughty smile. Mischief danced blatantly in his eyes.
She had grinned as the judge called her name, ordering her and her client to the bench. Once the judge had advised her of the conditions of the young man’s bond, he had moved on to the next case. For the next hour, she had argued two more cases, until finally the judge had dismissed the court for recess.
