took another step toward the man waiting at the altar, and he moved toward her and held out his hand. He had the strangest look on his face, as if he’d just seen a ghost. He enfolded her hand in his, and she noticed that his eyes looked shiny and they never left hers.
Verena Forester came to stand on her left; Rita positioned herself beside Lance. Then the minister stepped forward and opened his Bible.
“Dearly beloved...”
She could feel Lance trembling. Even so, his grip on her hand remained steady and his eyes continued to look into hers. All at once the reverend’s words leaped into her consciousness.
“Lawrence Burnside, do you take this woman...?”
Lance gave her hand a little squeeze. “I do.” His voice was steady, but she noticed that his shirtfront was fluttering.
Then the minister’s question was directed to her.
“Marianne Jane Collingwood, do you take this man...?”
Merciful God in heaven, can I really promise to love a man I scarcely know? She closed her eyes.
Lance waited. Did he understand her hesitation?
The gentle pressure of his fingers told her that he did understand, but he was waiting for her answer anyway.
Her mind cleared and she opened her eyes. No, she did not really know this man. But she had worked side by side with him for four years. She had watched him. For some reason she trusted him. And, she had to admit, she liked him.
“I—I do,” she breathed.
Reverend Pollock looked from Lance to Marianne and smiled. “I now pronounce you husband and wife.” Then his smile broadened into a grin. “Mr. Burnside, you may kiss your bride.”
Lance gulped. He released the hand he held in his own and reached to curve his fingers about Marianne’s shoulders. Damn, she was shaking like an aspen leaf in a summer breeze. He tried to smile at her, but his mouth wasn’t working right.
She was still staring up at him, a dazed expression on her face. Maybe she was waiting for him to kiss her, like the reverend said. She didn’t look scared or apprehensive; she was just waiting.
Outside the open sanctuary door he could hear some crazy bird singing its heart out. He became aware of his breath pulling in and out of his lungs, and then all at once he was aware of everything, the long silence, Reverend Pollock drumming his fingers on the Bible, even the occasional sniffing of Rita and the dressmaker. Good God, those two ladies were actually crying!
He felt like crying, too.
Marianne was still staring at him, waiting for him to kiss her, he guessed. Okay, he’d better do it and get it over with. He tightened his hands on her shoulders and drew her toward him.
She lifted her face to his, and in that instant he saw that her eyes were wet. His heart soared up and then thunked into his stomach. He pulled her close enough that the ruffle around the neck of her yellow dress touched his shirtfront, bent his head and brushed his lips against hers.
She closed her eyes, but she didn’t move. Her lips were soft, and she smelled faintly of roses, and unexpectedly his heart gave another thump as he moved slightly away from her. She felt sweet and unguarded in his arms, and suddenly he wanted to really kiss her.
And then she did something he would remember for the rest of his life. She opened her eyes, smiled at him and rose up on her tiptoes and pressed her mouth to his.
A locomotive ploughed into his chest and starbursts of hot light exploded in his brain. Some part of him felt the earth stop spinning on its axis, and then he lost himself in a big bubble of a fine new place he’d never been before. He tightened his arms around her and just held on.
After a long moment, a very long moment, he heard the minister cough politely, and he opened his eyes. What had just happened? Why were his eyelids stinging?
The two witnesses descended on them, mopping at their faces with lacy handkerchiefs and saying something. He couldn’t hear the words because of the roaring noise inside his head, but Rita’s face was one big grin and even the sobersides dressmaker was all smiles.
Reverend Pollock shook his hand. “Congratulations, Mr. Burnside,” he said loudly. He released his hand and then shook it again, pecked Marianne’s cheek and shook her hand, too.
Rita advanced and threw her arms around him, then turned to Marianne and smacked a kiss on her cheek. “Now, my dear, we have a little surprise for you. Sarah and Rooney Cloudman are giving you a wedding reception at Rose Cottage. That’s Sarah’s boardinghouse over on Maple Street.”
“Wedding reception!” Marianne gasped. “But we don’t know anyone in town.”
“Well,” Verena Forester announced, “pretty quick you’re gonna know everybody.”
Suddenly Lance stiffened. “Wait! I forgot the ring!”
Marianne blinked. “What ring?”
“The wedding ring I bought for you at the mercantile yesterday.”
Reverend Pollock laughed aloud. “Well, now,” he said with a twinkle in his eyes, “maybe you’d better get this ring on her finger before your wedding reception.”
Lance fumbled inside his vest and drew out an engraved gold band. “Give me your hand, Marianne.”
Shyly, she held out her hand. He lifted it in his and slipped the gold wedding band on to her fourth finger.
Marianne looked down at her hand and the lovely gold ring Lance had placed there. She couldn’t stop staring at it. Tiny roses were engraved all over it, like the roses she still carried in one hand. “Oh, it’s beautiful! It’s p-perfectly beauti—” She burst into tears.
Lance folded her into his arms. “Thank you,” she said against his chest. “Oh, Lance, thank you!”
“You’re welcome, Marianne. I wanted you to have a wedding ring.”
They stood in each other’s arms until he felt a gentle touch at his back.
“Come on, you two,” Rita said. “We’ll walk you over to Rose Cottage.”
* * *
Rose Cottage turned out to be the prettiest house Marianne had yet seen in Smoke River, a three-story structure with a wide front porch and a trellis covered with yellow rambling roses. Townspeople were spilling out the open front door and down the porch steps, calling out their congratulations. Marianne felt Lance check his stride.
“Whoa,” he said under his breath. “This is kinda scary.”
Marianne nodded. “I feel like I used to when Mrs. Schneiderman had a bad day.”
“Well, we lived through that,” he murmured. “I guess we’ll live through this, too.”
The first person to reach them was a plump, attractive older woman in a full-skirted green dress. “Welcome!” she called. “I’m
