“I’m afraid,” she whispered.
“We’ll get you help.” He took one of her hands and interlaced his fingers through hers. “This is the thing I’m absolutely sure of: If we keep holding on to each other, if we don’t let go, we can get through anything.”
Her eyes burned. “I don’t deserve you.”
“This priest once told me we don’t get what we deserve, thank God. We get what we’re given.”
She choked out a wet laugh. “A second chance.”
“And a third, and a fourth.” He smiled a little. “She convinced me, and I don’t even believe in God.”
She wiped her nose with her jacket sleeve. “I love you. It doesn’t seem like enough, just to say it, but I do.”
He kissed her. He got out of the truck and walked around the hood and popped her door open. “C’mon out here.”
She took his hand, and let him lead her through the forest darkness to the back of the pickup. He hoisted her over the tailgate into the bed of the truck, then vaulted over the side and joined her. He unflapped a heavy cardboard box.
“Don’t tell me you’re still dragging those quilts around,” she said.
“These are good quilts.” He spread out first one, then another. “My grandmother Campbell made ’em.” He patted the patchwork. “C’mere.”
She sat on the thick fabric and tugged her sneakers off before leaning against the rear window of the cab. Russ shook out two more and sat down next to her. He untied his boots and set them against the side of the bed, then snugged the quilts around their shoulders. They were heavy and warm.
He took her in his arms. “Listen. As far as I’m concerned, we’re already married.” He pressed her hand against his chest. She could feel the steady beat of his heart. “In here, I’m your husband. You’re my wife. Nothing we do or don’t do in that circus your mother has planned will change that. So if you need more time, if you want to delay it or even call it off, we’ll do it.”
She kissed him. “That’s my fourth premarital session.”
“What is?”
She felt herself beginning to tear up again. “Marriage is a sacrament. An outward and visible sign of an inward and invisible grace. The only thing the church can do is recognize what we’ve already created between us.”
He kissed her neck. “I know the religious part of it’s important to you-”
“Do you want me as your wife?” she said.
Russ smiled against her skin. “I do.”
“And I want you for my husband. Will you stay with me, sharing whatever life throws at us, good or bad?”
He laughed quietly. “I will. How about you?”
“I will.” She kissed him again, slowly, and began unbuttoning his shirt. “And I promise before God to be true and faithful to you, to love you with my body and my heart and my mind.” She pushed his shirt and jacket off. “Until we are parted by death.”
“Yes.” He pulled her sweater over her head. “I promise to be true and faithful to you, to love you with my body and my heart and my mind.” His breath hitched as she wiggled out of her khakis. “Until we are parted by death.”
He kicked his jeans away and pulled her against him, warm and solid, skin to skin. “I pronounce that we are husband and wife, in the name of the Father”-she kissed him-“and of the Son”-she kissed him again-“and of the Holy Spirit.”
He framed her face in his hands. “We’re married.” His face was serious.
“Yes. All the rest of it’s just tradition and show and law codes.”
His fingers slid along her body. He cupped her breast and stroked her nipple with his thumb. She moaned. “A man and his wife become one flesh,” he said, his voice low.
“Yes,” she gasped.
“Yes.” He rolled, pulling her atop him, and they sealed their vows beneath the stars and the pines and the thick old quilts his grandmother made.
SATURDAY, OCTOBER 22
Hadley was almost late to the wedding. Geneva insisted on putting on last year’s Christmas outfit, which was too small, and then after Hadley had talked her into the new silk-and-chiffon dress-$1.99 from Goodwill-they had another go-round over what shoes to wear. When Hadley got downstairs, still struggling with her zipper and carrying her heels, she discovered Hudson had dribbled juice on his best pants while watching TV. Hadley tore apart his room for a replacement, finally settling on a clean pair of khakis she had set aside in the donation pile. When Hudson complained they were too short around the ankles, she gave him her best death-ray glare and herded them into the car.
St. Alban’s was packed when they arrived. It looked like half the town and all the congregation had come. At the front of the church, Betsy Young was playing the organ and the full choir sat waiting. Walking up the aisle holding Genny’s hand, she heard southern voices and saw lots of clerical collars. Rich Virginians and priests. It didn’t bode well for a fun reception.
She spotted Kevin Flynn’s red hair near the front of the church. At the same moment, he turned around and looked at her. He stood in his pew and beckoned to her.
“We saved you seats.” He stepped into the aisle to let her and the children pass, and Hadley could see Harlene and her husband holding down the other end.
“Thanks,” she said. “I didn’t think we’d ever get out of the house.” She looked him up and down. “Nice suit.” She’d never seen him dressed up before. Kind of a shame, because he had the perfect build for it, long legs, wide shoulders, slim hips.
“Well, Genny Knox, aren’t you just the prettiest girl here?” Harlene patted the pew next to her. “You slide on over and sit with me.” Hadley followed her daughter, directing Hudson to the seat between herself and Flynn. She had discovered it was better to bracket them with adults during church services. Two to one was a good ratio.
“Did we miss anything?” Hadley asked, but before anyone could answer, the door by the sacristy opened and the priest came out, followed by the chief and Lyle MacAuley. The organ music stopped. A hush settled over the congregation.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen the dep looking nervous before,” Hadley whispered.
“Hmph.” The dispatcher spoke over Genny’s head. “Probably waitin’ to disappear into a puff of smoke and brimstone, being inside a church.”
Flynn grinned.
The organ sang out, something loud and complicated, with lots of notes running up and down the scale. People started to stand up. At the back of the church, two men pulled the doors open. Flynn checked his watch. “I think this is it.”
“I can’t see! Mommy, I can’t see!” Genny hopped up and down in frustration.
“Come here, Genny, stand in front of me.” Flynn stepped back and let Geneva squeeze past him. She hung off the pew ends, leaning as far into the aisle as she could. Hudson twisted back and forth around Flynn, clearly wanting a better view, clearly unwilling to admit it. Flynn took him by the shoulders and maneuvered him into the space next to his sister.
Flynn turned to grin at Hadley, and she smiled ruefully back at him, and there was a moment-it must have been the soaring music or the dizzying smell of the flowers-when her smile ghosted away and she felt like she had a lump in her throat.
Then Reverend Clare’s matron of honor walked past and Genny squealed and Hadley snapped her attention back to the aisle. “Oh, Mommy.” Genny sounded close to swooning. “Reverend Clare looks like a princess .” In truth, Reverend Clare’s Christmas and Easter vestments were a lot more elaborate than her unadorned wedding dress. Her wreath of tiny cream and gold flowers was a little crownlike, though, and she did have a train, which upped the princess quotient. As she and her father walked past, Clare grinned and winked at Geneva. The little girl quivered with ecstasy. “And so it starts,” Hadley said under her breath. She could foresee a lot of dress-up games involving tablecloth trains and half-slip veils in her future.