Adam had sent out personalized emails to the richest of his previous clients asking for charitable donations. Several expressed interest, but it all took time. Some medical equipment cost hundreds of thousands of pounds. George had been pragmatic about starting small and improving as money came in. Paying staff would have to take priority, and Adam had already started recruiting nurse practitioners and midwives. The island would never again be left with no medical services when a doctor went on holiday.
The last picture in Emmett’s envelope wasn’t of the medical centre. It showed a cliff rising slightly higher and jutting out into the sea. It was carpeted with tall grass and the unusual pink daisies. A small house sat at the very edge; the angle of Emmett’s camera made it look as if it floated over the sea.
It was the cottage he’d chosen as his own home.
If he’d imagined offering Laura a good life, he now had to rethink. His salary, at his own insistence, would be minimal. The only thing he had to offer her was…what? A lame apology?
Chapter Forty-One
By 11.45am,St Mary’s Church was full. With the addition of temporary seating outside and the ranks of well-wishers standing beyond, there must have been a thousand people here. Adam ran a finger along the back of his neck inside the collar of the Stefano Ricci suit Nicole had ordered for him two weeks ago. He wasn’t a stranger to expensive suits; God knew he’d worn enough of them to various functions. But they were all in storage in London, part of a life Adam had hoped to forget.
Now he crossed then uncrossed his legs in his seat and kept looking back at the entrance hoping to catch Laura. Emmett, also in a designer suit, was busy taking photographs. Liam was busy with Lord M at the front.
Du Montfort himself, resplendent in a deep burgundy suit with several medals fixed to his lapel, looked very much the lord he hated to be called. If Adam hadn’t known him so well, he might not have recognized him for the proud, smiling man who sat in the front row and looked with shining pride at his son. George and his best man were busy shaking hands with a few dignitaries as the organist played the usual Bach or Mendelssohn or whatever it was.
By noon, the rhythm of shuffling feet changed as the last stragglers hurried to take their places. The music faded.
A hush fell.
Up at the front, George went to his father’s side and bent to give him a hug. Du Montfort spoke to his son for quite a long moment. Last minute advice? Then George moved to stand at the altar, his best man at his side.
The music started again, a slow, sweet melody. The order of service in Adam’s hand said: Mozart – Serenade For Winds.
The first people down the aisle were a group of women who walked to the row reserved for them near the front. Among them was Pierre in a slim grey dress and a blue shawl tied around her waist that matched her blue and white hair. She held a small bouquet of white flowers. Several women walked behind her.
Then, Laura.
Adam never saw anyone else after that.
Laura in a midnight blue dress, her short hair shiny and sleek, took his breath away. She walked calmly, eyes forward. He wasn’t in her line of sight, and she didn’t look to find him, but his eyes followed her progress until she reached her seat and slid in next to Pierre. She smiled quickly at the other young woman and said something that made Pierre laugh.
They were too far away for him to attract her attention and it was too late to move now. The bridesmaid walked in as the Mozart came to an end and the choir rose to their feet. Everyone in the church stood up which hid Laura from his view. He would have to catch her after the ceremony.
As the haunting Rachmaninov hymn “Praise The Name Of The Lord” started, Millie walked in on the arm of her father. Adam had seen the fabric when Laura showed it to Du Montfort several weeks ago on the day of the big shouting argument. He’d also had a glimpse of the ruined dress two days ago. But nothing could have prepared him for what Laura had achieved. Millie floated like an illusion of mist and colour and sunlight. Her skirts shifted showing, then hiding, leaves and flowers he’d seen Laura paint ages ago.
How had she done this?
This was his girl, his woman. The flame that never died, that transformed utter disaster into this triumph. Dimly, all around him, he heard muted whispering as hands held up phones to capture the progress of the bride.
George, at the alter had turned to watch Millie walk towards him, his eyes shining. Gone was the efficient lawyer. This was a man in love, and he had eyes only for his lady.
When Millie reached the altar and people sat down again, Adam could finally see Laura in her pew. She and Pierre had arms around each other, wiping tears and grinning. The bishop came forward and started speaking. Adam’s eyes never left Laura, willing her to look at him so he could mouth his congratulations. There were hymns and prayers and things being read, he barely heard them, until …
Until the bishop spoke out the vows.
“I take you to be my wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward;”
Adam stopped breathing.
“For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health,”
Words Adam himself had spoken in church five years ago.
“To love and to cherish, till death us do part. In the presence of God, I make this vow.”
Yes, he had meant it, to do his best to love and cherish. While all the time, he had stupidly thought that if in two year it didn’t work, he would walk away. But he had taken those vows in a church before God. Regardless of how much or little he believed in God, he had spoken vows he hadn’t meant.
And God, the universe, or some cosmic karma had punished him by making his marriage a life sentence that only ended with her death.
