Page 74 of Broken SEAL'S Secret Baby

“He’s pretty enough, you young scalawag,” I say. “Let’s get you washed up and into your suit.”

“Do I have to?” Jimmy whines.

“I’m going to get into mine,” I say. “Thomas is already dressed and ready – and he’s younger than you are.”

That gets my nephew to cooperate with the process of getting into slacks, dress shirt and jacket. By the time we leave the guest bedroom, his parents have arrived. Both are dressed to take part in our renewal.

Outside, it is a beautiful April day. We are about to paste a beautiful memory over the season when I had once thought my world had ended. The central park area is bright with potted plants since it is a little early for most flowers. Family, friends, and neighbors stand on either side of the central walk. We’d planned our ceremony to be simple, yet beautiful.

The little girls, Abigail, and Letty, walk ahead of us, scattering rose petals. Cece had insisted that she was too tall to be a flower girl and had joined the bride’s maids. She is balanced by Greg’s son, who’s just a year older. I suspect that Cece has a crush on the tall youth, who puts on an air of being focused on his programming and science experiments. There might possibly be something reciprocal going on there…who could guess. They are teenagers, the very soul of volatility.

I’d borrowed Kate’s wedding rings, had them cleaned, and a gem added for Thomas. Today, I will give them back to her. I carry the box in my jacket pocket. No way am I entrusting them to the boys.

Kate is gorgeous in a princess style gown that is just barely pink. A wreath of peach blossoms holds a drift of tulle in place, enveloping her like a cloud. It lifts and drifts about her on the breeze, so different from the woolen veil she’d worn at our Valentine’s Day wedding. I hold out my arm to her. We had decided since this was a renewal, that we would walk each other to the altar.

The same chaplain who had performed the original ceremony waits for us. He has gone completely gray, and his face is a map of wrinkles, but he beams a smile so bright it could have served as a light house or a landing beacon.

When wearrive at the altar, he clears his throat and says in a carrying parade ground voice, “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here to witness the renewal of vows made ten years ago. Gathered in their living room, many attending via the Internet, after a harrowing search for their oldest child, and a miraculous recovery on the part of the husband thanks to the Navy’s excellent medical team, these two fine people were joined in holy matrimony. Today, they are celebrating that union, taking this opportunity to share their joy in each other and their commitment to maintaining a loving union with their family, friends, and neighbors that we might share their celebration face-to-face, as was not possible the first time.”

He then goes on, paraphrasing the usual vows with, “Will you continue to love and to honor…”

I scarcely hear him, I am so busy looking at the dear face of my lovely wife, mother of my children – for in all but having borne her, she is Cece’s mother, too. She has matured from the slender girl she had been into a stately matron. Still slim, even after two pregnancies, she is rounder at bosom and hip than she had been.

That made her even more beautiful in my eyes. Cece has done Kate’s hair up in an intricate arrangement of braids and curls that might last through the afternoon, but certainly not through the evening of loving tenderness I have planned for my wife.

The brief renewal ceremony comes to an end. I scarcely need the chaplain’s prompting to kiss Kate deep and long. The crowd cheers, claps, and whistles until we are forced to stop and breathe.

“I love you,” she says. It is a vow in and of itself.

“And I love you,” I reply, “In all the ways that can be counted, and more besides.”

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