“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here in the sight of God to join this man and this woman…”
Paul was aware of most of it—he even made the appropriate responses. But his attention was fixated on Harriet’s face, looking up at him, her eyes full of what had to be love. She must have been a little distracted as well, since it took her a moment to remember her full name when Simon asked.
A little chuckle echoed through the empty church. “Right then,” said Simon with a grin. “I, Harriet Anne Selkirk...”
Thus prompted, Harriet recited her vows, her hands in Paul’s, her fingers locked around his tightly, as if she feared he would fly away.
His responses were firm and resolute. “I, Paul Montgomery Fielding DeVoreaux, take thee Harriet Anne Selkirk…”
It was but a few minutes in time, but to Paul it marked the end of his days alone. The sensation of her warm hands in his spread through him, warming not only his fingers but those pieces of his heart that had been so bitter for so long. That knowledge alone was enough to bring tears close to the surface and he swallowed hard, not sure if he could have explained it, even if he’d tried.
They had no ring, but said the words anyway, knowing they were joined by more than a simple band of gold.
But Simon was nearing the end… “Should anyone here present know of any reason that this couple should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace.”
Still bemused by Harriet’s face, Paul smiled.
Then froze as a firm voice from the back of the church called out “I do. Stop the ceremony.”
