Maeve’s dress was nearly blinding in the sunlight. Pure white chiffon, it had a scooped neckline with an embellished bodice and long sheer sleeves scattered with embroidered flowers. The bottom of the dress picked up the floral theme as well as the edging on her veil. A short train flowed behind her as she slowly walked down the aisle on her father’s arm.
The dress set him back a fair amount and she felt slightly guilty for that until she heard the oohs and ahs of the assembled parishioners. The underskirt of the dress was form fitting, showing her new svelte figure with each step she took.
She carried white roses, and there were tiny rosebuds nestled in her upswept auburn locks. Everything about her fairly screamed virginal and she smiled a smug little smile until she noticed Sean’s expression as he waited for her. It was a visual scold. She lowered her eyes.
Halfway down the aisle, panic set in. Was she doing the right thing? Did she love him enough to marry him? Her vows would make their marriage permanent in the eyes of God.
How well did she really know him? He’d been away for a good part of the last few years and away still more during most oftheir engagement. He had sort of railroaded and bullied her into marrying him. Was it smart to marry a man who felt it was his obligation, in fact, his right to discipline his wife? Would she like living in the States? Was she marrying him to get there?
Maeve began to tremble. She was assailed by doubts.
Sean wanted children, lots of them. Did she want a houseful? She liked them well enough, but would she be a good mother? Oh Lord, what had she gotten herself into this time?
Her feet slowed. She tugged on her father’s arm.
* * *
Sean heard the slight gasp from the onlookers. He so wanted to stick a finger inside his collar and loosen it. His palms began to sweat.
“You better do somethin’, brother,” John hissed from behind him. “Looks like your bird is about to fly the coop.”
Maeve was barely inching down the last fifteen feet of the aisle. Her head was down and her father shrugged and tugged on his tie as he looked at Sean in confusion.
Sean noted the self-righteous expression on his mother’s face and frowned. It was at that moment Maeve raised her head and looked at him. He knew instantly it had been a mistake. Maeve had seen him glancing at his ma, seen the satisfied, I told you so, expression on her face. He watched Maeve, his heart in his throat. The organist stumbled over the keys, hitting a jarring note before recovering.
Sean and Maeve grimaced at the same time.
Standing straight and tall, Sean spoke, holding out his hand in her direction.
“Please come and marry me, Maeve Donahue. I love you with all my heart, and to tell you the truth, I always have. I don’t think I can live without you,” he stated loud enough for all to hear.
Her steps faltered once again as she stared at him in surprise. He held his breath.
* * *
Maeve was stunned. This man, strong, proud and opinionated had just turned their marriage ceremony into something more profound. He’d bared his soul in front of everyone they knew. She heard the envious sighs as though from a distance. Her heart pounded as she imagined running from the church and never again seeing him as he was now, waiting, his hand outstretched, seeking hers. It was not something she could bear to imagine.
Her eyes lifted to his and everything became crystal clear. He was the one. The only. The one man she was destined for. No matter where life took them, she belonged by his side.
A spiteful little voice whispered, “Yes and possibly over his knee,” and she found herself grinning. Yes, possibly, but not if she could avoid it.
She walked the rest of the way down the aisle, her heart settled, her mind at ease. This was right. She felt it in her soul and clasped his hand tightly when she reached him, nearly forgetting her father who heaved a hefty sigh behind her and stepped back.
Sean’s hand swallowed hers, holding tightly as though he were afraid she would bolt and run at the last minute. Maeve looked up at him and winked. She felt the tension leave his body as he lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed it.
“Late, as usual,” Father Fitzpatrick quipped, smiling at her.
“Aye, Father, but here as usual as well,” she replied a bit cheekily.
The congregation tittered.
The ceremony began.
As Sean had surprised her with his poignant comments which lifted her heart, Maeve also had something to say. Turning to him she began:
“By the power that Christ brought from heaven, mayst thou love me. As the sun follows its course, mayst thou follow me. As light to the eye, as bread to the hungry, as joy to the heart, may thy presence be with me, oh one whom I love, till death comes to part us asunder.”
Sean regarded her with pride in his eyes and lifted her delicate hand to his lips. Maeve smiled.
