Deciding to turn to my guests one last time before reaching him I shifted my gaze. Dozens of smiling faces met me, a few with tears already in their eyes. The image made me chuckle slightly, even I wasn’t crying yet. I recognised every face immediately; that was until my eyes reached the back of the room. My heart thudded in my chest as a pair of piercing blue eyes met my own; the same pair I thought I would never see again.
My feet slowed along with the rest of my body; time seemed to stand still as I continued to stare. The train of people behind me struggled to match my sluggish pace. I whipped my head around quickly, trying to disguise the anguish on my face. I breathed in hastily and composed myself to walk the last three metres to George. I couldn’t look back now as much as my entire body and being begged me to, I couldn’t see those eyes again.
If George noticed me staring at another man in that way he would be more hurt than even I could imagine; but there was only one person that could make my heart beat so fast and hard and he wasn’t stood at the end of the aisle waiting for me. I could feel him watching my back as if judging what I was going to do.
I couldn’t let my family down or George, I had to go through with this wedding; my momentary disillusion would have to be forgotten. I finally reached the end of the aisle, aligning myself next to George. His face beamed happiness as his eyes raked my body, searching the length of my dress.
“Charlotte,” he breathed, almost inaudibly. I smiled back at him, hiding all doubt from my face as I searched his. He was handsome, his face defined by the mass of brown curls that surrounded it and his eyes were deep and mellow. He was comfort and happiness but perhaps that was not enough.
My mind still swirled with images of the man at the back of the church; the man with short black hair and eyes sharper than the most fearsome thunder. He was the person that could make every hair on my body stand to attention with a single glance and the only man that could make me doubt my commitment to George. But the most important question was why he was here when I hadn’t seen him for over ten years.
I spoke my parts with confidence and fake interest, giving the appearance to my guests that was I listening. Even George didn’t notice my lack of enthusiasm and he was supposed to know me better than anyone. Well he thought he did and I had convinced myself that he was supposed to be here with me. Since I had reached him I hadn’t dared to look upon the crowds for fear of finding the eyes I longed for. I just let my mind swirl with images and thoughts of my black haired man, whilst trying my best not to show it. Before I knew it the final words were forming in my mouth.
“I do,” I whispered as if to myself instead of the crowded room. I finally allowed myself to look, if only for confirmation that I had done the correct thing. I turned my head away from my new husband and searched the pews desperately. When I couldn’t find his face amongst the crowd I tried again; after my third and frantic attempt I gave up. He was gone and I had probably imagined him in the first place.
I felt a soft pressure on my lips as George kissed me slowly, snapping me back to reality. I pushed a smile onto my face and kissed him back, as a good wife should. After all we were married now and I was his and always would be. A great cheer erupted from the pews as everybody rose to their feet clapping wildly. Every face showed clear delight, not a single eye was dry.
Even George had a few tears running freely down his face; it seemed that I was the only one kept from this moment of happiness. I was the one person that was supposed to cry at my happy day and new husband, but the only thing that made me threaten tears was the absence of the man from my past. As a child I had dreamt that he would be in George’s place, until the day I was forced to forget about his existence.
Before I knew what was happening I was being escorted out of the church by a swarm of people. All of our guests piled out of the building ready for the wedding pictures to be taken. I gazed around in a daze, letting them push me along with them. George was somewhere behind me, being clapped on the back by his brothers; something they always did. A few of my bridesmaids were surrounding me, herding me towards the exit.
When we finally hit the warm summer air I searched around again for the black haired man. My search came up short when only my family and friends met my examining eyes. I sighed before rearranging my face into what I hoped was a happy smile befitting a newlywed. George caught up with me and encased his hands in my own; the normal surge of comfort flooded through me as he dragged me towards the photographer.
We took all the normal pictures like they do at weddings in the wide open grounds of the church. From the ones I paid attention to we were stood in front of rose bushes and flower beds to be joined by different variations of our families. The final one was taken with all of us in it, grouped tightly together to fit us all in.
After the last picture everyone parted to head off to the reception venue, a couple of people stopped to hug me on their way. George kissed me lightly before heading off to his car; I was to travel in the vintage white limo that had brought me here with my bridesmaids. I brushed my brown ringlets from my face and paced the gardens, waiting for the driver to tell me it was time to leave.
Disrupted from my mixed thoughts the photographer tapped me lightly on the shoulder. I turned to him confused; I had figured he had left a few minutes ago with the rest of the guests. He was young with spiky blonde hair and a semi casual suit; I smiled at him warmly, he was clearly nervous for some reason.
“Um Ma'am, I thought you would like to see the group picture, I developed it quickly in my van so you could have a look. Most brides want to see their pictures as soon as possible, or so I have heard,” he said quickly, stumbling over a few of the words. I nodded at him politely; perhaps this was his first job. I took the picture from his hands, curious this time to see his work.
The picture was slightly blurry from being printed so quickly but the work was good. I handed it back to him, nodding in approval, when suddenly a sharp blue colour shone from the paper. I snatched the picture roughly back from his hands and inspected it further. Clear as day was my man stood at the very back of the group, slightly hidden behind what looked like one of George’s many uncles. He was wearing a light grey suit, my preferred choice. I glanced back up at the photographer; barely noting the terrified expression on his face.
“Where did this man go?” I almost shouted, pointing to the man at the back.
“I don’t know, he left just as quickly as he arrived,” the photographer stumbled. I smiled at him even though my heart was hammering.
“OK, I’ll keep this photo if you don’t mind,” I said. He shook his head before quickly leaving, probably scared that I would have another outburst. I was struggling to contain myself now; I had no idea what I was feeling other than confusion. Why would he just reappear and not say anything; I hadn’t even noticed him sneaking in to the picture.
The sound of a horn made me jump slightly; I really had to get a grip of my nerves before I got to the reception. I moved towards the waiting car and got in to it willingly. I needed to sit down and rearrange my thoughts. William had been gone for ten years; he had disappeared without telling anyone so why was he here now, at my wedding?
The ride to the reception venue was painfully quick, especially with my bridesmaids chatting away the entire time. I couldn’t pull myself in to the happy mood I should be in, not after the photo which was tucked away safely in my purse. Nobody else had recognised William that I had known of, but then I was the only person who was ever that close to him. I was examining this in too much detail, maybe he had just heard I was getting married and came to wish me well.