Page 71 of Wounded Hearts
Every time Zach peeked out from the sacristy, the church pews were a bit fuller. For a man perishing of loneliness a month before, he found himself awash in family and friends. Villagers and Academy parents filled the pews; some he recognized, others he expected to know eventually. Mr. and Mrs. Banks chatted with old Mr. Morling and a couple introduced to him as Walter’s parents. Mrs. Fullerton and Alice, the cheeky little serving maid from the Queen’s Barque, both came early, avidly watching the arrivals.
His sister waved from her place next to Ralph. Abney relatives, up for the day, sat next to them. Of the earl, there had been no sign. Zach found that a relief, but some folks appeared disappointed, Alice among them.
Brewster had pride of place behind Zach’s family, the seat next to him empty. Zach suspected Brewster’s wife assisted his bride. He would remember them all fondly someday, but at that moment he wanted only one person.
“What do you think is keeping her?” he demanded, rearranging his hair with a restless hand. Paul’s knowing smirk didn’t help his nerves, and neither did the assurance of both vicars that “the bride always comes eventually.”
And then she did. Chords on the organ alerted them, and Zach came out to stand in front of the altar, Paul at his side and the vicars behind. Mrs. Brewster scurried down a side aisle to join her husband.
Sunlight shining through the open door gave the entrance a mystic glow, momentarily blinding him. Zach blinked. What had looked like a crowd of fairies proved to be, instead, children. His nieces, bubbling up with excitement, led the procession industriously tossing flower pedals. Behind them marched a troop of boys, Patience’s boys, his boys, augmented by his nephews.
He had asked her who would give the bride away, her father being otherwise engaged, and ought to have guessed the answer. Patience, a vision in peach muslin, came toward him between Peter and Walter, them being the eldest. A woman might have rhapsodized over her dress and the flowers in her hair, but Zach had eyes only for her face. The love he saw there filled him to the marrow of his bones.
They said their vows in a circle of loved ones, and allowed themselves to be cheered the length of the village to the inn and universal celebration.
There comes a time at many weddings, when the celebration takes on a life of its own, and the bride and groom feel free to escape. Zach led Patience to the stableyard quietly, hoping to avoid notice.
“Where are we going? I arranged a room upstairs,” she whispered.
A chestnut gelding, one Zach knew to possess a strong heart and good manners, his uncle’s wedding gift, waited for them saddled and ready. He leaned down for a quick kiss. “This part is mine to arrange,” he said.
Still clutching a bouquet of flowers, she stared up at him. “But my…things.”
He patted the bags tied to the saddle. “Mrs. Brewster made certain you have all you need.” He leaned in to whisper something the innkeeper’s wife had let slip. “I hear it includes an interesting night rail.” Her ferocious blush tickled him so much it required a quick kiss.
He mounted using a block, but before he could pull her up with him, the doors burst open and the revelers flooded into the stableyard, led by yahooing boys. His beloved, her face an adorable shade of red, took his hand when he leaned down, and he pulled her up in front of him.
“Is he kidnapping her?” Froggie’s deep voice demanded.
As they rode away, he heard one of his nieces reply, “No, silly. He looks like a knight and his lady,” to general laughter.
“Where are you taking me?”
He had gone to great trouble to prepare their wedding night bower, but he didn’t answer immediately, being too busy reveling in the discovery that holding her across his lap rather than astride in front made her easier to kiss. They turned toward the marsh road at the corner of Market Street.
“To the Academy, of course,” he said, kissing her again. “So that we can complete what we started there.”
When they turned down the track through the marsh, she returned his kiss so passionately, he had to stop. His little wife pulled away to whisper, “We best stop this so we can hurry to it.”
He chuckled and obliged, pleased at how much easier it was to trot across the dry track. She leaned her head against his shoulder and sighed. “I’m not so sure we’re finishing anything, though. I think we’re just getting started.”
THE END
