And Hudson knew how she’d react, of course. She wouldn’t let anyone take her child. Why should she bemoan the fact that she didn’t get what she wanted? How selfish could she be?
But now…she should find Merit. At least apologize. He had wanted to spare her feelings, give her one Christmas with Bunty, she realized. She hadn’t even been able to drag herself to worship the past Sundays.
What if he told her to go away? He had made it clear once that he would rather not marry. And she had been so stupid, like the grass swaying in the breeze, not knowing which way to grow. She had been with Merit one minute, promising to marry Hudson the next. Then she’d been so desperate to adopt Bunty that she had not been grateful that his own parents were alive. How could she expect Merit to trust her or even want to be with someone like her? She was bad, bad, bad. Certainly not pastor’s wife material.
Be happy, Hudson told her. What if she ended up alone, with no one to share her life? Could she be happy then? What did God expect of her, and could she be content in whatever state he called her to serve?
Amalia made the trail loop, thoughts swirling. She halted at the sight of the subject of her daydream on the other side of the fence. Maybe she could hurry away, without letting him see her.
Stop being afraid. Hudson had said that, too.
“You’re standing on Lover’s Leap,” Amalia told Merit, hoping not to startle him too much. When he did not respond, nor even look in her direction, she went on. “The story goes, a Potawatomi girl and an Illini boy jumped to their deaths when they weren’t allowed to marry.”
Merit finally turned his head in the direction of her voice, but did not meet her gaze.
“It’s not safe off the trail, you know,” Amalia said. “There are signs.”
This time he walked toward her. “I guess I just wandered. I have a lot on my mind.”
Amalia watched him approach, her hammering heart thumping loudly inside her eardrums.
Merit ducked under the fence and stood next to her, close enough for her to feel his body heat even through their jackets. “The voice of God isn’t any louder up here.”
Her teeth started to chatter. “Ca-can I help you? I know your work to the Nehrangesi is your call, your life. Merit, I should have been happy that Bunty found his family. That they hadn’t died. That he could return to his own country. Please, forgive me?”
He faced her. Amalia shivered when he gripped her shoulders. “Forgive you for wanting to love a child enough to take him as your own? How could you expect to need forgiveness from me? I hurt you by not telling you first.”
“You didn’t want to dash my hopes, yet you wanted the best for that little boy.” Amalia took a deep breath. Say it. “I love and respect that about you.”
“You deserve someone more stable than me. You’re a part of Fox Falls and the people here. I don’t know how long I’ll stay. How can I love you and want to marry you, knowing that someday I might be called away?”
Amalia’s throat felt dry enough to choke. She took a step closer to him, raising her palms to touch his chest. At his sharp intake, she settled her ear against him. “Love me? I’m not marrying anyone but you.” She sighed deeply as his arms fully encompassed her. “But if you won’t have me—”
Their kiss crumpled her knees. She would have sunk to the loam without Merit’s hold. They both gasped for air when he pulled back. “Amalia? Are you…are you sure?”
“Today Hudson told me…he said he wanted me to be happy.” Amalia looked into Merit’s eyes. “I know that I am most happy with you.” She reached up around his neck and pulled his head toward hers, the dampness of his eyes making hers spill over. As she kissed him, words tumbled over each other. “Please don’t go anywhere I can’t follow.”
“I love you, Amalia. I never thought I’d give up any part of myself to anyone but God. Pete said love isn’t a finite thing, but that it multiplies when given away. I didn’t understand that before, but now I do. Will you marry me? Even though I have nothing to offer you.”
Amalia tipped her face to the sky as she laughed with joy. “Nothing to offer? Merit Campbell, you’ve given me the world. A love bigger than Fox Falls. And I love you. So much. Yes, yes, I will marry you.”
Merit rarely moved more than a hand’s breadth apart from Amalia the rest of the day. Back at her little house, Amalia tried to make dinner wrapped from behind in Merit’s arms. He rested his chin on her shoulder and offered not very helpful advice in her ear. They fed each other like lovers, staring and smiling, kissing between bites. She held out her hand every few minutes to admire the beautiful diamond he gave her, after a mysterious detour to his house.
Later, as Merit began a lengthy goodnight, an act which involved much cuddling and nuzzling while standing at the door, Amalia questioned his smile. “What are you thinking?”
“Is there some kind of rule about how soon we can marry?”
“I don’t know,” Amalia said. “What did you have in mind?”
“Are you busy tomorrow?”
“I think there’s a license and other little details involved.”
“Ah, yes, I suppose you’re right. You would know about that. You understand about all those things.” Merit laughed against her ear, making Amalia shiver. “What I really wonder,” he whispered, “is whether a Kennedy and a Campbell can actually make a go of it.”
* * *
Cherie shared her excitement and offered advice long-distance. Amalia and Jordyn studied catalogs, talked colors, guests, and visited bakeries. Jordyn broke the news about Hudson Demarest’s new romance with Charlotte Guthry, the boutique owner. “I heard he set up a standing order for the same table at Frederick’s, even. I can’t imagine Charlotte living at the funeral home, though, however nice it is.”
“I’m glad Hudson’s happy.” What had the gossip mills said about her very short romance with the new pastor at New Life? They had known each other for such a short time. Had they really even dated? Not in the conventional sense of the word. Yet Merit made her whole. God sent him to complete her. How long does it take to fall in love? A lifetime, or just one glance? The two of them would have the rest of their lives to get to know each other better.
During the following days, Amalia and Merit discussed dates and places for their wedding. Starved Rock Lodge was a popular locale to hold weddings and booked far in advance, except for the winter months. Neither of them desired a long engagement. They chose the beginning of February for the ceremony and reception, only a few short weeks away.
At supper that evening they’d finalize the plans. She jumped to answer the bell when he rang. Merit already had pulled off his tie. He swept her into a hug. Amalia laughed. “You must have had a good day.”
“I did. But the best time is now, with you.”
They sat on the sofa in front of the coffee table where Amalia had brochures and paperwork spread out. “So everyone understands about the wedding, and it’s okay?”
“Of course. They’re delighted.” He bumped noses with her. Amalia rubbed her cheek against his.
“Ready to show me what you have here?”
“Sure. Here’s the deal. The Starved Rock Room at the Lodge can seat eighty for dinner. The guest list isn’t that big anyway. We’ll have the dinner there if you like. We have a choice of chicken, pork, a nice beef, or even veggie kabob. The fish gets a bit pricey, but we can do it. What would you like? There’s even a chicken and beef combo.”
“You’re okay with making all these plans? You have enough time for everything?” Merit asked. He gathered her in his arms. “This has got to be expensive. Are you sure you want to do all of it?”
Amalia rubbed her nose against his. “You know how my family is into detail? Well, Dad left a bundle in an account expressly for my wedding. The money’s gathered interest over the past few years, so our plans are well within the budget.” As Merit shook his head in amusement, she added, “And besides, January, February and March are fifty percent off.”
“You’re kidding. What a woman I’m getting.”
After a few more kisses, Amalia broke away. “So, what do you think? You want to sign?”
“Show me where.”
“Another thing….”
He looked at her after scratching his name next to hers. “Yes?”
“Have you thought about groomsmen? Tom, and someone else, since Pete and Cherie can’t come.”
“Tom, sure. Who else are you thinking about?”
“You don’t have anyone in mind?”
“I don’t know. I’m in an awkward position, trying not to play favorites.”
“Right. Well, I’ll figure something out. Trust me?”
Another kiss. “Definitely.”
* * *
Usually dreary January whirled away in color, work, and decisions. Invitations were addressed and sent, dresses bought, musicians, dinner, decorations all under control. Jordyn would look great in the navy blue formal. Pru was matron of honor. Maybe Jordyn would work a little harder at finding the love her life now, too. Angus had sat one row closer to the front on the past successive Sundays. Yesterday he had parked himself right next to Jordyn. Hmm. Amalia waited for her friend to say anything about him, and when she hadn’t brought it up, didn’t press.
Amalia missed her mother, but Pru’s love and support almost filled the gap. Amalia spoke with her future sister-in-law weekly and more as the wedding day approached. Merit had long ago come to terms with Tom, forgiven him, and asked him to be his best man.
Amalia’s secret plan for Merit’s other groomsman hit a snarl of red tape. Marianne Friese helped all she could. Amalia stayed in constant touch with the mission board and the Nehrangesi embassy, and things were progressing slowly, but surely. The look on Merit’s face would be worth all the trouble if she could pull this off.
As pastor, Merit worked his way through the membership, trying to learn about the congregants, and meeting with many of them over a meal. Amalia enjoyed hosting two or three families a week for dinner. There were a number of people she did not know well, herself, so she enjoyed this opportunity to make new acquaintances.
One evening shortly before their big day, Merit lit a fire and they relaxed, mesmerized by the flames. He broke the companionable silence. “Amalia, will you do something for me? I want us to say our first vows alone. Just the two of us. Would you meet me on top of the rock, early in the morning before the ceremony?”
She wound her fingers through his. “I like that idea. It’s a date.”
* * *
On the morning of the wedding, Amalia hurried along the trail up Starved Rock through the last of the patchy mist to find Merit waiting. She went quickly into his arms, burying her face against his shoulder, breathing hard from her climb and the excitement of being with him. Tears threatened.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked.
“Nothing. I’m so happy, so excited. And maybe a little afraid.”
Merit held her away to peer steadfastly into her eyes. He smiled, a brief twist of lips. “Me, too.” Amalia moved close again and felt his breath in her hair. Then he tugged at her arm. “Here, come. I want to share communion with our vows.”
Amalia felt the tears again. She hoped she wouldn’t weep buckets during the ceremony later. She had a hard enough time controlling herself now.
“Come.” Merit led her toward the fence where he had set a basket. Patches of snow on the side of the trail and in the bare trees made a clean, fresh background for the brilliant cardinals waking up to flit and serenade. With a steady hand Merit poured two small cups of juice and broke a small loaf of bread.
“The body of Christ, broken for you.” He offered her the loaf and she followed his example for him. They shared the cup in the same way. “The blood of Christ, shed for you.” Amalia’s tears dried. The beauty of the simple exchange of promises in the crispness of the early morning invoked a sense of majesty.
Merit grasped her hands in his. “I take you, Amalia, as my wife. I promise I will honor you and care for you as Christ loved the church all of my days.”
“Merit, I take you for my husband. I promise to love and care for you, honor and respect you always, all of my life.”
Merit closed his eyes and lifted his face. “Thank you, thank you, Lord, thank you.”
Amalia could think of no other words she could add to Merit’s prayer.
TWENTY-THREE
“Perfect love casts out fear. Perfect love casts out fear.” Merit paced in the side room at Starved Rock Lodge while he waited for his cue, smoothing the lapels of the gray suit he wore. Sharing vows with Amalia early this morning had felt nothing like this. What could cause his ridiculous attack of nerves? All they had to do was repeat the promise they had made earlier, in the sight of God on top of Starved Rock, again in front of these witnesses.
“Perfect love…”
“Hey, Merit. How’s it going?” Tom Dayton slapped Merit’s shoulder. “Just hang in there, buddy. When I married your sister, well, you remember how I acted like a basket case.”
Merit took a deep breath. “Yeah. Do you know why the hold up? I thought the ceremony should have started by now.”
The furtive look on Tom’s face made Merit’s knees quake. “Tom, what’s going on? Is Amalia here? She’s not—”
“No. Nothing’s wrong.” He held his hands out. “Come on, there’s a slight hitch. They’re, ah, waiting for someone. That’s all I know. Promise.” Tom left the room as quickly as he came.
All sorts of whispered fears threatened to drive him mad. Traffic accidents, illness. Amalia changed her mind. Amalia! He rushed to the door. Tom stood outside and raised a warning arm. “Soon, buddy. Really. Hang in there.”
Merit saw Prudence in her dark blue satin dress and jacket clutching a lily and pacing. When she turned to see him, she stomped toward him and hissed, “Get back in there! You can’t see the bride in her dress before the wedding.”
“So, she’s here? She’s all right?”
Pru looked annoyed and harassed. “Of course. What did you think? Tom.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Oh, honestly.” She closed the door in Merit’s face. He heard the click of her heels…then the glorious sounds of the stringed quartet. He closed his eyes against another wave of alternate lava and ice emotion.
A rush of cold air signaled the reopening of the door. “Hey. Aren’t you ready yet?” Tom’s voice made light of the situation. “Let’s go.” Tom prodded Merit ahead of him into the beautiful high-ceilinged room of the stone and timber lodge…where Merit halted at the sight of a dark-robed man holding a book. Instead of fellow pastor Gordon Wakefield’s cherubic round face, the biggest grin in the world could not describe the expression Pete Thompson wore. Merit took two more steps forward before coming to another dead stop.
This time Tom ran into Merit from behind, pushing him closer to the man who stood next to Pete.
Paul Dal’Chindri.
Unlike Pete, Paul’s countenance reflected the seriousness of his duty as befitting the nature of the gathering. Nehrangese took matrimony as a bright and holy act. Paul, outfitted in native dress of colorful vest and matching full-legged pants tucked into glossy black boots, and fez, bowed from the waist. Merit, instantly feeling a welcome healing peace, returned the bow and stepped into place beside his groomsman from the mountains.
The music changed. Merit looked away from the miracle presence of his two unexpected friends to watch in a dream as Amalia floated toward him across the shining floor. Although he had participated in several weddings, Merit had never officiated at any. He had privately scoffed at the videotaping and other unnecessary accoutrements. How could anyone forget any part of his own wedding? But unlike the morning forever etched in his memory, for the duration of the ceremony, he saw nothing but the perfect white oval of Amalia’s face framed in lace, the glow of her eyes and moistness of her lips. Pete’s voice came from far away.
The two of them exchanged rings. Meri
t didn’t hear a word of Pete’s prayer, but at the moment when Amalia lifted her face to his, he breathed out and kissed her.
Clapping and cheers brought him back to real time and place. He felt brief confusion, as if he had fallen asleep while watching a movie and woke up to see the credits rolling, wondering what happened.
Amalia laughed at what must have been his bemused expression. They strolled the white carpeted aisle together, greeting a few guests on the end seats. At the back of the room they waited for the rest of the party to join them. He faced his wife to kiss her again, holding her close. “You did all this? I can’t believe it. Thank you, thank you. You never said a word.”
She touched the side of his face. “For you. I love you,” she said, then turned to greet the other who had stood with them. He watched her hold Pru for a long teary hug, then her friend Jordyn.
Merit managed one-armed hugs and handshakes with his friends, for he would not let go of Amalia’s hand. At least not for a while.
“The plane came in late,” Prudence shouted at him over the din. “That’s why things were held up for a bit. Pete wouldn’t miss this. Then Paul’s plane was late getting into O’Hare.”
Having finally let go of Amalia’s hand, he stood to one side with his sister and Paul. Amalia and Jordyn and Pete talked animatedly with other guests nearby.
Merit could focus at last on the details of his beloved’s dress. A lacy shawl covered her shoulders while the silky material flowed down her legs to the ground. She looked gorgeous with the white flowers in her dark hair and his ring on her finger. “How did she manage all this?” Merit asked his sister.
“Amalia came up with the idea to bring Paul here.” Pru smiled. Paul bowed. “They had to untangle a lot of red tape, with the unrest in the country and all Paul is doing as liaison.”
The Last Detail Page 22
