by Nola Cross
“It’s yes, Ben. Yes. Yes.”
“I knew it.” His grin widened.
“You did not!” She gave his arm a playful slap. She had added the new charm to her bracelet and was wearing it now. The charms clinked softly on her wrist.
“Okay. Maybe I didn’t know it. But I had hope you’d come to your senses.”
“And I’m so very glad I did.”
Epilogue
Ben shifted his weight from one foot to the other, watching the arched doorway at the end of the red-carpeted aisle. He was tempted to look away, to see how many faces he might recognize in the crowded chapel, but he didn’t dare. More than anything, he wanted his eyes on Sunny the instant she walked through that doorway.
His folks were there, of course, and his sister Carol and her husband, and several people from work. On the other side of the aisle Dr. Joffman sat in a group that included Jasmine’s therapists and Judy Martin from the riding stables. Sunny’s best friend, LaRonda, sat right up front next to Sunny’s mother, who had just arrived last night from Florida. It was a perfect-sized wedding.
The chapel was resplendent in Christmas red and green: potted poinsettias and fir boughs, holly and eucalyptus created a rich holiday tapestry on the small elevated platform where he waited with the minister. The muted strains of Silent Night came from the old organ screened off in the corner. It had been exactly one year ago this week that he and Sunny first met in Pioneer Courthouse Square, and they had both agreed that a pre-Christmas wedding would be perfect timing. Soon they’d have two weeks off together. That meant they’d get eight days away to themselves and a few days left for family fun when they returned on Christmas Eve from their honeymoon in Tuscany.
There had been a time back in late October when they’d considered moving the ceremony up. Sunny had been feeling a bit run-down, not her usual energetic self. Finally a pregnancy test had confirmed her suspicions that condoms were far from infallible. But after a discussion they’d decided to relax and stick with their original wedding date. The church was already booked and the invitations printed, and nowadays nobody bothered to count up the months when a new baby came in the first year.
A new baby! Right now their new little son or daughter nestled in the safety of Sunny’s beautiful, sexy belly, waiting to complicate and enliven their new marriage. Ben couldn’t be happier about it.
Suddenly, the music changed, swelling into the traditional wedding march, filling the small church with heart-stopping sound. Ben swallowed hard as three figures stepped into the lighted doorway. There was his bride, radiant in a white sheath that showed off her curvy figure and gorgeous legs. She carried a bouquet of red roses and holly. To her left, little Jasmine stood in a pink dress styled like her mother’s, and carried a matching bouquet. On her other side, Spencer fidgeted a bit in his tiny tuxedo. But at least the boy had a death grip on the ring box he was charged with carrying. Ben was proud to see he took his special task very seriously.
As the three of them began the slow processional walk down the aisle, Sunny’s eyes met his. She smiled, her beautiful face lighting up with love, and Ben’s whole body gave thanks. He knew without looking back that he’d never been as happy as he was at this moment.
It had been a long eleven months since the accident on the dark mountain road. But once he and Sunny found their way back to each other, it was an amazing time, full of triumphs in Jasmine’s recovery, and continued growth in his and Sunny’s relationship. The depth of his feelings for her sometimes stole his breath away.
Like now, when she stopped in front of him and reached her hand out toward him. Her fingers wove through his, clasping tight, and together they turned toward the altar.
“Why is that man wearing a dress?” Spencer said loudly behind them, no doubt noticing the minister’s robes.
Several people in the front row tittered. Sunny turned and put her finger to her smiling lips.
“Is he getting married to us too?”
Now half the chapel laughed.
“I don’t think so,” Jasmine said. “I’ve never seen him before.”
“Maybe he’s my Uncle Steve. I think I heard my dad say I have an Uncle Steve.”
Ben turned and bent low, struggling not to laugh. “You don’t have an Uncle Steve. Quiet now. Get ready to hand me the ring when I ask you for it.”
“Okay, Dad.” His boy smiled and Ben’s heart almost came apart with joy and love. It was a fabulous day. He couldn’t imagine a day better than this one.
He turned back to the minister. The man smiled at them all and opened the small black book he held.
“Dearly beloved,” he began.
About Nola Cross
I’ve always, always wanted to be a writer. It’s funny—and kind of sad—to look back and see how “real life” has gotten in the way of those dreams. Despite being a Golden Heart finalist twice in past years, it’s only recently that I’ve consistently carved out the time and energy to get any serious writing done.
For three years I penned erotic fiction under a pseudonym. I have to admit it was fun to explore my “darker side”. But now I am hearing the call of my heart: to write bigger stories that focus on emotion, loss, spirit, and true love; stories I hope my readers will relate to and want to read more than once. Small town America is my favorite fictional setting.
I live in a funky, comfortable fixer-upper on three wooded acres in the foothills of the Cascade Mountains, in southwest Washington state. My husband and I run a family business together in a small town nearby, a town very similar to the ones I write about. Our younger son works with us too. At home, four fine cats and a collie dog act as my muses. And two years ago we welcomed our first grandchild, darling Ona Mae. It’s a truly wonderful life.
I love nothing better than to connect with readers and other authors. Please feel free to email me, friend me on Facebook, or follow me on Twitter.
Nola’s Website:
www.nolacross.com
Reader eMail:
[email protected]
