Page 15 of May I Kiss the Bride

Five Months Later

VIOLA DELANY, SOON TO BE Viola Christensen, stood in the small living room of Aunt Beth’s apartment.

The upright mirror in the corner reflected a woman with blonde hair piled upon her head, wearing a white velvet dress.

The pearl earrings and pearl necklace had been sent to her by her mother as a wedding gift.

But her parents weren’t coming to the January wedding.

The cold wind whipped the bare trees outside along Main Street, but even the mournful howling didn’t deflate Viola’s heart. Parents or not, she was marrying Reynold Christensen this afternoon.

“You look like a beautiful winter rose,” Aunt Beth said, coming into the front room. She wore her best dark blue dress with lace at the collar and cuffs. She beamed a smile and joined Viola in front of the mirror.

There were similarities between aunt and niece, but they only made Viola miss her mother more. This unexpected feeling had persisted all week—maybe it was because she and her mother had planned her last wedding together.

“I can’t believe I’m really getting married.” Viola gave a small laugh. “To a cowboy. And I’m going to be a stepmother, too.”

Aunt Beth slipped an arm about her waist. “You’ll find happiness every day of your life, dear. It’s not every man who would agree with his wife about working as a nurse.”

“Rey isn’t every man.” Viola tilted her head. “Besides, Elsie is excited to help me out after school. So it’s two against one.”

Aunt Beth chuckled. “You both have that man wrapped around your fingers. Now, let’s get you hitched.”

Viola turned away from the mirror and embraced her aunt. “Thank you for everything and for believing in me.”

“None of the sappy talk. You’ll make me cry off my makeup.”

The two women headed downstairs where Deputy Thatcher waited for them with a carriage that would take them to the church.

Even though the wind was cold and blustery, and the sky hung with low, gray clouds, most of the town had turned up. Carriages and wagons lined the front of the church while horses stamped to keep warm.

“Here we are, ladies.” Thatcher slowed the carriage in front of the church where someone had made sure there was room for the bride to arrive.

He handed both Viola and Aunt Beth down, then escorted them into the church. The organ music floated sweetly through the space, and everyone seated in the pews turned to look at Viola.

She grasped Thatcher’s arm and forced a smile even though her heart was hammering in her throat. At the front of the chapel, Rey stood, wearing a full suit. She almost didn’t recognize him with his slicked back hair and shaved face, but his smile was the same and those green eyes were the same.

The organ music changed to the wedding march, and Aunt Beth whispered, “It’s your turn, dear. I’ll see you after.”

Suddenly Elsie appeared, wearing a white velvet dress, matching Viola’s. Elsie held a basket of flower petals, and after grinning at Viola, she skipped down the aisle as she tossed petals. Most of them landed on the audience versus the floor, but no one seemed to mind.

Viola refocused on the man at the front of the church who watched her. She met his gaze, and even from a distance, she felt the warmth that was him.

“I’m ready,” she told Thatcher, and the pair of them began to walk down the aisle.

The music soared around them, and Viola tried to smile at those in attendance, but her throat was so tight that it was hard to turn her head.

A gust of wind brushed the back of her head. Someone had arrived late, and Viola didn’t think much of it until the music completely stopped. A man spoke in a rather loud voice behind her. “Is this the wedding of Viola Delany?”

“Are we too late?” a woman said.

Viola gripped Thatcher’s arm and turned slowly around. She knew both of those voices.

Her parents had walked into the chapel, wearing long coats, heavy hats, their eyes bright, and their cheeks flushed red.

“Are you married yet?” her mother asked, her voice hitching. “Are we too late?”

Viola’s mouth fell open. She couldn’t have spoken if she wanted to.

The rest of the audience stared as if stunned. Not even Thatcher could form a word.

“We’re not married yet, but if you’ll take a seat, then you can watch the ceremony.” Rey walked up the aisle. Tall and confident. He paused by Viola and bent to kiss her cheek. “You look beautiful, sweetheart.”

“Rey …” she whispered.

“Yes?” He merely gazed at her, his green eyes calm, like an interrupted wedding was an everyday occurrence.

“My parents are here.”

His gaze didn’t leave hers, but his eyes sparked. “I can see that.”

“Might I introduce you?”

“Of course.”

Viola swallowed, then turned her head. Her parents were still standing just inside the entrance, although someone had mercifully shut the doors. “Mother, Father, I’d like you to meet Reynold Christensen. My fiancé.”

Her mother moved forward. “Mr. Christensen, it’s lovely to meet you.” Her eyes brimmed with tears, and her lips trembled, but she was all smiles.

“Call me Rey.” He extended his hand and shook Mother’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Delany.”

Mother pulled a handkerchief from one of her pockets and dabbed her eyes.

“I’m Mr. Delany,” a deeper voice said. “Viola’s father.”

Her father stepped up, his hand outstretched to Rey. The men shook hands, then Father’s gaze was upon her.

“Viola, there’s so much to say.” A lump moved in his throat. “So much to apologize for.” He looked around at the audience who was soaking up every word. “Might you do me the honor of allowing me to escort you up the aisle so you can marry this gentleman?”

“Oh, Father.” Viola flew into his arms even though her dress was crushed and who knew what the result to her hairdo might be. When Father’s arms hugged her tight, tears coursed down her cheeks. “Of course you can.”

Next she stepped into her mother’s arms. When they moved apart, Aunt Beth came forward, and the two sisters embraced for a long moment. Then Aunt Beth shook hands with Father and welcomed him to Mayfair.

“Beth, thank you for watching over our little girl,” Father said, emotion edging his voice.

The confused audience, watching and avidly listening, began to clap as murmurs arose. Viola knew she owed many explanations, but for now the wedding must go on. She linked arms with her father.

“Now I’m truly ready.”

Thatcher chuckled. “Everyone to their places. Let the wedding march begin again.”

Viola’s heart zoomed up and down with each step she and her father took toward Rey. He stood, hands behind his back, his gaze once again focused on her. The edges of his mouth lifted in an amused smile, and she could only guess at the thoughts behind his dancing eyes.

When her father released her arm, she took her place across from Rey, waiting for the reverend to begin the service. As he spoke, Viola’s heart swelled at least another size or two. Her mother quietly sniffled in the front row, leaning her head on Father’s shoulder, whose eyes were just as red.

“I love you,” Rey whispered in the middle of the service.

“I love you too,” Viola whispered back.

Her entire world had become this man and his daughter, but she was more than happy to add her own parents to the mix. She knew there was likely a lot of things to work out, a lot of things to understand, but they’d come to Mayfair. And that was the first and most important step.

After the reverend concluded, and after they exchanged their vows, Viola decided that the single gold band upon her ring finger was the most beautiful piece of jewelry she could ever wear. It was straight from Rey’s heart, after all.

“May I kiss the bride?” Rey said as if they weren’t being watched by a hundred people.

“You may,” she whispered.

And then her cowboy leaned close, taking one of her hands in his. Before she closed her eyes, she saw him smile. Her eyes fluttered shut just as Rey made good on his promise and kissed his bride.