“Russ. I’m trying to say yes, here. I will marry you. I want to marry you. Let’s do it.”
“Really? I don’t want you to jump into anything without thinking it through.”
She laughed. “You’re kidding, right? Can I put it on?”
He pulled the ring out of its holder. Her hands were shaking so, she almost dropped it. He helped her slide it onto her finger. It was smooth and heavy, with three diamonds set low in fat circles of gold. “It fits.”
“I, uh, took your UVA ring off your dresser to size it.”
“Very sneaky.” She grinned up at him. “I like that in a man.” She flung her arms around him and he squeezed her back. “I love it.” She kissed him, a jubilant smack that turned into a long, sweet kiss that left her breathless. “I love you.”
“Good. How soon can we get married?”
“Let’s see. First, I have to get permission from the bishop.”
He released her. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope.”
“Holy-I don’t have to go and ask him for your hand, do I?”
“No, it’s more like-a professional courtesy. Once I have his blessing, let’s see. We’ll get married at St. Alban’s. I could ask one of my friends from seminary to take the service… or maybe Julie McPartlin here in Lake George could officiate. She could do our counseling.”
“What counseling?”
“We have to have three or four sessions of premarital counseling before being married in the church.”
“For what?”
“For all sorts of things. When I meet with engaged couples, we discuss issues like sex-”
“I’m for it.” He kissed her neck.
She smiled. “And money-”
“You can handle it,” he said into her ear.
“And children.”
He stopped. “We haven’t talked about children.” He pulled away from her, his hands still on her shoulders. “How do you feel about having kids?”
“How do you feel?”
“Honestly?” He blew out a breath. “I like kids. I hoped-when Linda and I were young, we tried for a long time.”
She bit her lip. “How about now?”
He rubbed his thumbs along her collarbone. “I think I’m too old. Even if we had a kid right off the bat, I’d still be seventy-two or seventy-three when he graduated from college. If I make it that long. I just don’t think it’s fair, to give a child an old guy with bad knees as a father.”
She nodded.
“How about you?” His face was intent, serious. It should be serious. They were deciding things that would affect the rest of their lives tonight. The immensity of marriage, everything it would be, suddenly stretched out before her like the waters of the lake, wide and deep and full of unfathomable mystery. How about you? She weighed her answer.
“I like children, too, and there’s a part of me that would very much like to be a mother. But my ministry takes so much of my time and attention and emotional energy-all the things I’d have to give to a child. I don’t know if I could be a good priest and a good parent.”
“So… no?”
She paused. “No.” Then she hugged him hard, burying her face in his shirt, because even though it felt right, it was still a kind of a loss.
“Maybe a dog.”
“A big, hairy dog?”
“Sure. It can hang around the church office with you and terrorize the vestry when they get out of line.”
She laughed. “It’s a deal.” She stepped back, tugging at his hands. All at once she couldn’t wait another minute to let everyone know. “Let’s go home. I want to call my parents, and your mother, and Dr. Anne, and everybody.”
“Whoa.” He laughed, but he let her drag him off the landing and onto the path anyway. “You still haven’t told me when.”
“Advent’s out, and Christmas and Epiphany are crazy. Late January? That’s when I usually take a week off. Of course, that might be a difficult time to travel. I don’t know if I can persuade my family to leave southern Virginia when we’ve got three feet of snow and single-digit temperatures.” She stopped. “Oh, good Lord. My mother is going to birth a live cow over this. She didn’t ever think I was going to land a husband.”
“January?” He shook his head. “Can’t we just do it quick and simple? The last time, all I needed was a license and twenty-five bucks for the justice of the peace.”
Clare bit her lip. “Oh, God, Russ, I don’t know. Yes, we could get married within sixty days of notifying the rector.”
“Consider yourself notified.”
“You have to understand, though, my mother’s been planning table arrangements and picking out silver patterns since Grace and I were toddlers. She never had the chance to put on her dream wedding for Grace.”
“Is that what you want? A big blowout?”
“No, of course not.”
“Then let’s make it easy and quick. You don’t need any more stress in your life than you already have. Get a pretty dress and some flowers, we’ll let your church ladies bake us a cake, and boom, it’s done.” He did something she had never seen him do before. He lifted her hand and pressed a kiss into her palm. “We’ve lost too much time already.”
And we don’t know how much time we’ve got.
She nodded. “The end of October, then.”
A woman screamed. Russ’s head jerked up and Clare whirled. Above them, on the terrace, a knot of bodies thinned out to reveal two men stripping off their jackets, circling each other. The band wheezed to a stop. She could hear the woman again, shrill and tearful, and excited shouts, egging the fighters on.
“Oh, for chrissakes. Why do people drink if it just makes ’em mean?” Russ pushed past her, tugging his badge holder from his pocket and flipping it open. “Stay back.”
She nodded, but of course, he couldn’t see her. She watched him force his way into the crowd gathering around the spectacle, then lost sight of him. She stood on tiptoe. Cursed under her breath. The lawn in front of the tent would give her a better vantage point. Admittedly, it was closer to the fight-a lot closer-but she could argue that it still qualified as “staying back.”
She clutched her wrap more firmly around her shoulders and strode toward the tent. Over the eager sounds of the crowd, she thought she could hear Russ’s deep voice, trying to calm things down.
Call 911. The thought was immediately followed by the realization that she’d deliberately left her cell phone in Russ’s truck. No calls from parishioners on her big date, nosirree. She could have whacked herself in the head. Then she spotted a woman with a phone. She was talking into it, rapidly, quietly, her shoulders set in an angry line. “Fine,” she said. “Fine. If that’s the way you want it.” She snapped the phone shut.
“Excuse me.” Clare hated to break up someone’s special moment, but Russ needed backup. “Could you please call nine-one-one?” The woman turned to her. It was Tally McNabb.
“What? Why?” Tally frowned.
“The fight?” Clare gestured to the melee. Above the shrieking woman and the jeering guys, she could hear Russ’s voice, hard and authoritative.
“A fight?” Tally shook her head. “Christ. Sorry. I didn’t notice. I was…” She made a vague gesture in the direction of her phone. She teetered on the balls of her feet to peer over the heads of the crowd. “I think somebody’s already busting it up.”
“That’s Chief Van Alstyne, yeah, but he’s alone and-” Clare didn’t want to say “unarmed.” She compromised with “And the Lake George police ought to know.”
Tally looked at Clare more closely. “Hey. I know you.” Her mouth opened, and even in the dim light, Clare could see red rising in the younger woman’s cheeks. “It’s you.”
Clare took a breath. Attempted a smile. “Please? Call nine-one-one?”
Behind them, a smooth voice said, “No need. The hotel has already been notified.” Clare and Tally both turned.