Kristie’s baking friends—Lennie, Jocelyn, and Harper—sat in the front row on the bride’s side, as did many of her veterinary clients, Keith, Lindsay, and Nash, with Britt and Lars and their new baby, Sullivan, way down on the end.
Mission’s heart filled with love for all of them, because everyone who came to the Hammond Family Farm knew how to open their arms and welcome anyone and everyone.
Kristie would come from the left, from the little path lined in mason jars and pink roses. He’d walked it with her last night when they’d checked the tent and the chairs and the way the wind moved under the canvas. Her laugh had been soft and quick and it had stayed with him long after they’d said goodnight with a whisper of hands and the promise that tonight’s dance would be theirs alone.
His granddad appeared at the end of the aisle, and Mission met his eyes and pulled in a breath.
One minute. Sixty seconds until he’d see his lovely bride in her wedding dress for the first time. Granddad disappeared again, and the music changed. People rose from their seats, the melody curling up toward the ceiling of the tent and continuing right on through it.
Mission shifted his feet nervously, but when Kristie appeared, every part of him quieted.
Her dress was simple and entirely her: a clean, graceful line that moved when she moved, cap sleeves, a skirt that whispered instead of announced, with shiny fabric that caught drops of mountain light and kept them in the fibers.
She wore her hair down, because she didn’t want to “look bald” in the pictures, and it fell in soft curls around her face, with the rest tucked away at the nape of her neck. The veil spilled out from that and trailed behind her, the wispy edges of it just visible riding on the train of her gown.
Her bouquet boasted darker-than-spring colors like burgundy, sage, and pumpkin. She seemed to have her eyes open wider than normal, but her smile radiated happiness and excitement. Those things hit him when her eyes locked on his, and he found his anchor.
Kristie had long been the person he wanted to run everything by, the only woman he wanted to impress, and the love of his life.
His chest did that tight, squeezy thing it did when something sacred walked into the room. Outside, he stayed steady. He didn’t lift a hand toward his tie again. He let his eyes do all the speaking they needed to do. He felt every step she took and silently encouraged her to keep going.
She nodded to people in the crowd, her eyes skipping down rows and back to his over and over. Granddad kept his arm steady in hers, their pace toward him slow but sure.
She almost seemed to be looking for someone, and when she didn’t find them, her gaze came back to Mission’s and held there. So she’d been hoping her family might change their mind and make the drive to Ivory Peaks.
She reached him, and Granddad slipped her arm into Mission’s. “My blessings go with you,” he whispered in his gravelly voice, and then he moved to sit beside Deacon on the front row.
Mission bent his head down and touched the brim of his cowboy hat to Kristie’s forehead. “I’m here,” he whispered. “And you’re here.”
They’d talked that it didn’t matter who came to the wedding—and who didn’t. All he needed was her, and all she needed was him.
She nodded slightly, took a breath, and together, they turned to face the pastor who’d come to marry them.
“I love officiating weddings in April,” Quinn Benson said. Molly’s father had retired from leading a congregation, but he still held the credentials to marry people in the state of Colorado, and Mission had known him for years.
“Because my wife and I got married in April, on the day of the biggest snowstorm of the season.” He beamed his exuberance out into the world, and Mission found himself smiling. “Today, only the wind wishes to destroy your amazing day, but don’t worry. Nothing can actually do that. God loves marriage, and whatever happens today will only add to the main event.”
As if he’d called it, the wind rustled against the side of the tent, apparently unhappy it couldn’t come in and witness the I-dos. Mission looked to the left as a few people twittered in the crowd.
“I know neither Mission nor Kristie likes to stand in the spotlight for very long,” Pastor Benson said. “And I’ve promised not to go on too long, but one of the things I like to do when I marry someone is offer some advice.”
Mission swallowed, because he felt sure whatever Pastor Benson counseled him to do, he’d try to do.
“Keep your marriage small,” the pastor said. “And work on it daily. Pray by yourself, and then pray together. Think first, and speak second. Keep your problems between the two of you, and work on them together.”
Keep your marriage small.Mission had been instantly confused, but the more Pastor Benson said, the more pieces fell into place.
“Life can get very loud,” the pastor continued. “And you both have a whole lot pulling you in different directions. Come home to each other every night. Mission, look her in the eye and tell her how amazing she is. Kristie, put your hand in his and ask him how his day went.”
Kristie’s hand in Mission’s actually tightened, and they exchanged a glance.
“Find a simple ritual that you can do every week. Some couples I know counsel together every Sunday night and share three good things they noticed the other doing that week. Some chat in the dark before they fall asleep, and lay out the things they need in the near future. No matter what, find something that works for the two of you, for no one else is in your marriage but the two—of—you.”
He spoke the last words with enough emphasis for Mission to pay attention.
“Do the small things, and the Lord will make the reward big.” Pastor Benson nodded, and he smiled widely as he looked from Kristie to Mission, and then out to the crowd. “Now, it’s my understanding that the couple has put an advice wheel in the barn, and they’d love for you to write downyourbest marriage advice for the two of them.”
He clapped his hands. “All right, Mission,” Pastor Benson said. “I’m going to pass the mic to you.” He did just that, and Mission adjusted it in his grip while he dug into his pocket with his other hand.
