Page 137 of Rift in the Soul
“I love you too, Mud.”
She opened the door and crossed the porch, walking slowly down the steps of our home, between the rows of our family and friends.
Before she reached the front of the raised beds, where Daddy stood, leaning on a cane, Occam walked to the bottom of the stairs and stopped. He was dressed in a black tux. He stoodthere, his hands clasped in front of him. His head down. I had never seen him in a tuxedo and he took my breath away. He was almost totally healed, his dark blond hair to his shoulders, his skin scar-free.
I walked out of our home, took two steps onto the porch. My dress, layers and folds of blue gray silk, whispered against me.
Occam sniffed the air, scenting me, and raised his head, as if expecting a blow. His eyes met mine. I felt the punch with him. All that love. All that need. All that wanting. Slamming into him. Into me.
Tears filled his eyes.
Tears filled mine.
Leaves tickled my hairline, growing into the circlet I wore just in case that happened. We had planned this, this one private moment before the others saw us.
Occam held out his hand. We both smiled. Love stretched between us, a living thing, bright and warm, and so full I thought my physical heart might break. Occam placed his other fist against his heart as if he felt the same thing.
Mud reached the front. Daddy nodded.
We weren’t in church, so a recording of the Wedding March started. Everyone stood and turned. And saw me standing there.
Mama gasped and said, “My baby!” The mamas hugged. Mud beamed with pride.
I wanted to run to Occam. I wanted to fling myself down the steps toward him, into his arms. He laughed, seeing the desire in my eyes, and I laughed with him. Totally inappropriate, both of us.
My heart in my eyes, I walked sedately down the steps. I took his hand, cat-warm around my icy one. He tucked it into the crook of his elbow. Together we walked down the aisle toward Daddy. Daddy, who was going to marry us. I had refused to be given away like a piece of meat, but Daddy was an elder of the church, he was officially a preacher, with a paper and everything, so I had agreed he could perform the ceremony.
Occam and I passed my family on one side, and our friends on the other. The mamas were standing together on the front aisle. Esther and the twins sat with my true brother and sisters and their spouses on the next aisle. Then the rest of that side was full of the half brothers and sisters and a few real young ones, the next generation of Nicholsons.
Occam and I reached the front of the raised beds. I handed Mud my bouquet. Everyone sat.
Daddy cleared his voice. He said, “Dearly beloved…” And began the formal, church-approved wedding service. But a few lines in, he changed it, and his words shook me.
“Each moment has to be lived in that moment. Because the moment after will not be the same. Each joy. Each sadness and sorrow. Each success. Each grief. Each spring of blooming and leafing”—Daddy looked at the scarlet leaves in my scarlet hair—“each summer of growth, each harvest, and each winter of sap rising and root strengthening, each season gives us something that leads to living. And each must be lived in that moment. This is a moment of joy.
“You have vows. Occam, speak your vows.”
“I loved you from the first moment I saw you, Nell, sugar,” my cat-man said. “I will be your help and your protector when you want one. I will never crowd you, never push you. And I will love those you love, and cherish those you cherish, until my dying day.” His cat-eyes glowed. “I love you to the full moon and back. I will love you forever, until my soul is freed from this body, and will cleave to you through all eternity.”
Tears trickled down my face.
“Nell, you have vows,” Daddy said.
“Occam, I was afraid of you when we met, afraid of myself, afraid of love and caring and being vulnerable. You taught me how to trust again, you gave me hope and taught me joy. I love you to the deeps of the roots of the strongest trees, to the heights of the tallest branches. I will love you through the seasons, through the years, and when I die, I will die loving you with all my heart and all of who I am. Forever.”
“Please exchange rings,” Daddy said, his voice rough with tenderness. “Occam, repeat after me. ‘I take thee, Nell, as my wife, to love and to hold and to cherish.’ ”
“I take thee, Nell, as my wife, to love and to hold and to cherish. Forever.” Occam slid the slim gold band onto my left ring finger.
“Nell, repeat after me. ‘I take thee, Occam, as my husband, to love and to hold and to cherish.’ ”
“I take thee, Occam, as my husband, to love and to hold and to cherish. Forever.”
I slid the ring onto his finger.
“I now pronounce you married,” Daddy said. “You may kiss the bride. And may you live in harmony and joy for the rest of your days.”
Occam kissed me, a soft pressure of his lips on mine. The audience clapped and cheered, and my husband and I turned to face our family by blood, marriage, and choice. And to face the home that was now ours. Forever.
