Page 27 of Ceremony of Lust
“This dress is a disgrace,”my grandmother mutters as she fastens the tiny iridescent buttons down the lace back of my dress. “There is nothing modest about it. You’re exposing yourself to the entire Temple. Zev picked this? For you?”
“No, Grandmother. He sent it over, and I picked it,” I tell her proudly. “Besides, it was in Latimer’s dress shop, so it must be acceptable.”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She finishes the last of the buttons, and I hear what I assume is a muffled sob. But when I turn around to comfort her, she’s actually laughing.
“What’s so funny?” I ask.
“He’s going to have a heck of a time getting you out of this. Maybe it’s a good choice, after all.”
It’s shocking yet refreshing to hear my grandmother allude to sex. When I face the cheval mirror in the dressing room at the Temple, I can’t help but hope Zev will be kind to my dress. Visions of him slicing it open flash through my mind. This poor, delicate lace doesn’t stand a chance when it comes to my Wolf.
“No one will even see it once Hadassah places the wedding robes on me,” I reassure my grandmother.
All of the weddings I’ve attended come to mind, and I immediately begin sweating at the thought of the heavy robes every bride must wear during the wedding ceremony. They were brought over with the original settlers and have been worn during every wedding ceremony since Ripley was first founded. The white robe has survived for many years despite the yellowing color and the intricate beading and embroidery needing the occasional repair.
As if on cue, the door opens and Hadassah enters with a garment bag slung over one arm and an assistant trailing her, carrying the ceremonial crown that will cover my head.
When she sees me, Hadassah stops dead, nearly causing a collision with her assistant.
She gasps. “Is that what he chose? You cannot wear that!”
“My grandmother just spent thirty minutes buttoning me up. This is what I’m wearing,” I tell her with a defiant tilt of my chin.
Hadassah is once more dripping in jewels, and her face is perfectly made up. Her green eyes are lined with thick black liner, and her lips are a ruby red. She wears white robes and a golden turban on her head.
“Don’t come crying to me when the Wolf kicks you out of his den,” she chastises as she unzips the garment bag.
“I don’t intend to.” And after the kiss we shared last night, I don’t think he will.
Hadassah and her assistant lift the heavy ceremonial robe from the bag and shake it out. They carry it forward and place it on my shoulders. The heaviness of it weighs down on me as I slip my arms into the sleeves.
The crown comes next, and my grandmother pushes a low stool before me so I can kneel. Hadassah mutters words of prayer and then kisses the center stone of the crown—a large diamond—before placing it on my head.
When I’m dressed in the ceremonial wedding attire, Hadassah holds out her hands and murmurs more prayers. My grandmother and the assistant chant them in unison, but they are unfamiliar to me. I close my eyes and try not to think of the crushing weight of the crown or the robe or how last night was the definitive end of my childhood. No more waking up to Puccini or the smell of fresh blueberry muffins.
The praying abruptly stops, and Hadassah’s eyes widen. “It’s time,” she announces.
With my grandmother beside me, I follow Hadassah through the hallways toward the main hall of the Temple. Double doors open wide, and a breeze washes over me. When Hadassah steps into the hall, everyone stands in near perfect unison. Men on one side, women on the other, and down the main aisle, staring straight at us, is Zev.
He stands at the altar as though he’s standing at the edge of the world, with his hands clasped in front of him and a scowl on his lips. Every nervous butterfly in the pit of my stomach bursts to life. Every doubt I’ve ever had about being married to a man I hardly know filters through my thoughts on a constant loop. I want to look away so badly, to avoid the darkness waiting for me, but something about Zev draws me toward him. The invisible cord connecting us tugs me forward as I move slowly toward the front of the hall.
Some hymn is playing, but I hardly hear it.
The women to my left whisper as I pass them, but I pay them no mind.
The men to my right watch me closely, but I hardly notice them.
No one else in the room exists except the man I am marrying.
When at last I reach the altar, I kneel on the plush red carpet in front of Zev and Hadassah. The bulk of the garment covering my body and the crown on my head are overwhelming, but I can endure it because of him.
“Welcome, brothers and sisters,” Hadassah says, beginning the ceremony. “Today, we gather to celebrate another momentous union. Today, we will celebrate the marriage of Zev and Yael.”
She clears her throat before continuing. “Zev, if you accept this woman and this marriage, let your intentions be known before the congregation of Ripley.”
With my head bent, the only thing I see is Zev’s shiny black shoes. They move as he shifts his weight. “I accept this woman, Yael Blum, as she has been chosen for me. Yael, rise and stand beside me.”
I can hardly lift my head, but when I do, I’m greeted with twin pools of lust staring back at me. My hands shake as I raise them and slip them into Zev’s waiting palms. He grasps my hands as he pulls me to my feet. Our hands remain locked as we move to stand in front of Hadassah.