by V.
Elan and Nina waited for us to reach the first step so that they could escort us toward their grandfather. Elan looked quite the young man, dressed up in a beautiful suit and tie, and Nina wore a gorgeous white dress sprinkled with flowers. Elan began the march. He must have thought he needed to march because his steps were those of a soldier, in perfect rhythm with the beats of the song, but a soldier nonetheless, officially making his way toward his grandfather and the minister. His arms were stretched out, clutching the little box that held one of our wedding rings. Nina followed behind her brother, gliding along the floor like a ballerina, twirling here and there so she could see her dress fan out, loosely holding but never dropping her box with the other wedding ring.
When we reached the minister, Tom took my hand and eased it onto Conrad’s. Conrad looked magnificent, immaculately dressed in a dark-blue suit with a light-blue shirt and a beautiful silk tie multihued in blue.
We looked into each other’s eyes and smiled as the ceremony began.
The minister welcomed all, proceeded with the invocation, and followed with the traditional reading of scriptures that culminated in a passage from Corinthians 13:1-8, which Conrad and I had chosen.
“Love is patient, love is kind, and envies no one,” the minister read. “Love is not boastful, nor conceited, nor rude, nor selfish, nor quick to take offense. Love keeps no score of wrongs, does not gloat over the errors of others, but delights in the truth. There is no limit to its faith, its hope, and its endurance. Love will never come to an end.”
He then introduced the vows, explaining that Conrad and I had chosen to write our own vows separate from each other and were about to share them in the presence of our friends and family. He nodded toward Conrad.
“Sarah,” Conrad said as his eyes brightened and his face radiated with love, “this is my hand; take it. Grasp it when the going gets too rough. Hold it when the moon begins to rise. Use it when your own begins to shake and you need a little help to dust the clouds out of the sky. This is my heart; take it. Hear it when the storm covers the moon. Touch it when the morning gets too cold. Feel it when the fear becomes too strong, when everything seems wrong, when the night is dark, and when nothing seems worthwhile, or simply when you are sad. This is my life; take it. Enjoy it, for you’re the one who’s made it. Fulfill it because you gave it reason for existing. Take it in your hands and hold it. Press it to your heart and keep it warm. Love it until the end of time. Take this hand, this heart, this life, and lock it in your love and never let it go.”
“Conrad,” I said, “if there is such a thing as destiny, mine is with you. I will do all that I can to bring joy, understanding, and passion into your life. I promise to honor and respect you, to be your friend, lover, and ally. I will hold you when you are sad. I will celebrate the wonders and challenges of life with you. And above all, I will love you. I promise to bring joy to your heart, to nurture and to love you, to support you in being true to yourself, to encourage you through times of change, to listen with an open heart so that you can share yourself with honesty, to solace you when you are downhearted, and to join you in joy and laughter. Together, we will hear the sounds of roses growing and walk along the mountain paths, riding with the sun and moving through the clouds. We will live the breeze of autumn days and run our fingers through golden flower fields. We will kiss the water of the rushing streams, embrace the snow of a winter storm, and hold the moon when it’s over the valley of our love. I pledge to share all that I am with you and to celebrate all that you are. I promise this with my heart and my soul for all the days of my life and beyond.”
The wedding did more than just unite Conrad and me—it also reunited the twin houses. Only, this time the prospect of a blissful future lay ahead, and all of the ancestors were now at peace.
Our wedding kiss was delicate, soft, and tender as we bequeathed our souls to each other for all eternity.
The house sighed with joy.
“Did you hear that?” Conrad whispered.
“I sure did.”
Bonus
Sarah’s Recipes
Sarah uncovered her mother’s cookbook, a small three-ring binder that contained all of the recipes she’d collected over the years, a devoted collection of recipes she’d learned from Sarah’s nana—those they had advanced together, as well as the many they had invented. Over the years, they had improved upon them, and as a result, most recipes had little notes here and there as to what they had eliminated, added, or altered.
Each handwritten note revived the memories of the two of them and the feeling that somehow they were alongside Sarah as she created each meal, baked each loaf, or crafted delicious desserts.
Now this precious homemade compilation has Sarah’s own notes and alterations and has become a three-generation cookbook.
Alyana, her children, and all those who follow, will most certainly incorporate their own contributions and continue the tradition.
To view Sarah’s recipes, please visit our website: www.2authors.com.
V. &. D. Povall
A husband and wife writing team who have authored and published nonfiction manuals and articles as well as written four short screenplays, six full-length screenplays, two women’s fiction novels, the first installment of a murder mystery series, and a science fiction epic.
Between them they possess a doctorate and years of practical experience in film, theater, and television. Thanks to their rich international family backgrounds, they bring to the page a wealth of experiences and points of view. They have lived in different cultures, are multilingual, and bring to their writing a broad understanding of human nature.
The Gift of the Twin Houses is their first novel in the Perils of a Reluctant Psychic series.
