We’d cleaned out the barn and moved the animals to the sheds. String lights and chandeliers hung across the wooden beams. Most of the guests were already seated when we entered. Bahati stood by my side as we waited for Rodel. Jodie, Valerie, and Melody walked in first. Bahati’s phone pinged. He glanced at it quickly and typed a reply. Across the room, another phone went off. One of the girls that had just entered jumped in her seat to silence it.
“Which one is it?” I asked Bahati.
“No idea what you’re talking about.” He turned his phone off and gave me a cheeky smile.
Scholastica was up next. Her smile was as big as the moon as she headed toward me, forgetting to scatter the flowers as she came up. I chuckled as she presented me with a basket full of petals. She’d saved them all for me.
And then Rodel walked in, and the whole world stilled. It had been a year since we’d returned from England, and she still managed to steal my breath away. Her shoulders gleamed as she stood in soft silhouette against the entrance. She wore her hair down and held a single lily. She was a vision in the dress that Goma had sewn for her. It was knee-length, with a fitted bodice and a tulle skirt that flared out from the waist. The hemline wasn’t completely even, but no one wanted to challenge Goma’s eyesight.
Rodel’s father probably escorted her down the aisle, but everything else faded. I had eyes only for her. It seemed to take forever for her to reach me.
Come on. Come on.
When she finally got to my side, I wanted to skip ahead to the part where I got to kiss her. Delicate blooms of jasmine were tucked in her hair. I wanted to pick one and run it up and down the graceful curve of her neck.
“I turn around for two seconds and you’re in the middle of a tea party,” she said.
“You like?” I smiled.
Around us, guests were gathered on small, round tables. Teapots and tiered trays sat on burlap table runners.
“A tea party on a coffee farm.” She smiled back. “I like.”
The next few hours passed by in a blur. Renegade hens crashed the wedding party. Rodel discovered that a lot of the tea was actually booze. Olonana got tipsy and hit on Goma. Josephine Montati gave us a wedding card signed by the children from the orphanage. I danced with Rodel’s mother. Bahati danced with Hair. Then Makeup. Then Wardrobe. There was no telling which one he’d been texting. Inspector Hamisi wanted to know if the circuits were set up to handle all the extra lights. The Maasaimoransthat had come with Olonana had a dance-off with the farm hands. Scholastica and Anna’s kids stole sips of adult tea when no one was watching. Olonana’s mother spit on us.
As the sun began to set, I pulled Rodel into the stall where she had first kissed me. There, as the golden light fell on her, I aimed my Polaroid camera at us.
“Wait!” She fished for something inside her bodice. “I’ve been waiting to use this all day.” She pulled out a Post-it note, on which she’d written our wedding details:
August 11th—Jack & Rodel (Kaburi Estate)
She held it between us as we smiled into the camera.
We watched the picture develop, our faces appearing on the milky film like a painting coming alive through the mist. Two bright, overexposed faces—black suit, white dress, a yellow note between us.
This is what it looks like when you wander somewhere between the sand and stardust, and meet a piece of yourself in someone else.
My lips found their way instinctively to hers and I kissed her. My wife. My rainbow-haloed girl.
“It’s good, Mrs. Warden.” I lifted her off the ground and spun her around.
“The photo?” She giggled, flushed and a little dizzy.
“The photo. Your smile. Life. You. Me.”
“And baby makes three,” she said softly, as I set her down.
My heart lurched like it always did when she mentioned the baby. I placed my hand over her tummy in a silent vow to the little life growing inside and felt a circle close around us. My greatest loss had led to my greatest love. Hearts were broken, and hearts were healed. Lives were lost, and lives were saved.
As I tucked our photo into my wallet, next to the one I kept of Lily, I noticed the triangular flags that had been captured in the frame. They were part of the jute banner behind us, hanging from the beams. Together, they spelled out the words on Rodel’s bracelet, the one that Olonana’s mother had given her:
Taleenoi olngisoilechashur.
We are all connected.
“What is it?” asked Rodel as I looked around the barn.
“You ever wonder what we’d find if we could pick up the threads back to the point where things unravel, where paths cross, and lives pivot, and people come together?” I took her hand as we rejoined our guests.
