A March Bride (A Year of Weddings 1 #4)(16)

Susanna trailed after her, unhooking her old bike from the pegs on the garage wall. “Mama, who is it? Is everything all right?”

She nodded, holding up one finger, closing her eyes, moving her lips as if memorizing what she heard on the other end of the call. “Thank you for calling.”

“Who was that?”

“Restaurant business.” Mama hopped behind the wheel of her truck without a backward glance at Susanna and fired up the engine. With a push of the remote, the door rose, creaking and moaning. Mama shifted into reverse. “See you later, Susanna Jean.”

“Yeah, sure, see you later.”

Susanna watched her leave, straddling her bike, feeling unsettled about their kitchen conversation. As if there were more to be said.

Was her commitment to Nathaniel true? Strong enough to endure criticism from bloggers and royal watchers? Strong enough to give up everything, including her citizenship? Susanna pedaled down the driveway onto Stevens Road, heading for Frederica.

What she didn’t know, the Lord did. “If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God.”



The saline island breeze carried a lingering hint of winter, but the early morning sun promised a clear, warm day.

Susanna slowed as she approached the low stone wall surrounding the Christ Church grounds, her heart aching for a touch from the Spirit.

What was it about the unseen that made sense of the seen?

Settling her bike against the wall, Susanna passed under the ivy-covered entrance—a pitched roof covering over wooden seats—and stepped into the glorious atmosphere of the historic church grounds.

Tears flashed in her eyes as she cut across the lush, green lawn, still damp with the morning dew. She breathed in the crisp air, absorbing the sense that the Divine waited for her.

She found a sunny but secluded spot at the far corner of the yard, away from the activity of parishioners arriving at the white clapboard church for morning Bible study, and settled down against the trunk of a maple.

She waited before speaking, listening to the sounds around her—the distant voices going into the church, the cooing of mourning doves, the rustle of wind in the leaves.

“Father,” she began, low and slow, addressing her prayer to her one true King, peace descending upon her soul. “Give me wisdom. Help me make sense of my own heart.”

At the end of her petition, the world fell dramatically silent. No voices. No cooing. No shuffling leaves. Her thoughts remained tangled and knotted.

Talk to me, Lord.

Surely when she was stuck, God had a way out. An answer she never imagined.

Stretching out her legs, Susanna folded her hands over her middle and studied the blue patches of sky through the tree limbs.

The same blue as Nathaniel’s eyes. She missed him. Mercy, what must he be thinking of her right now?

A fly buzzed around her ears and she batted it away.

In the distance, she heard the slap of a car door followed by a murmur of voices and the crunch of heels on the brick path.

If she were Nathaniel, she’d be doubting this relationship about now. What groom wouldn’t, with a fiancée who was so dramatic and over the top as to leave her engagement ring behind?

If he found out about that, and she hoped he wouldn’t. She opened her eyes and sat forward. What was I thinking?

Fear. Such a rude counselor.

God, wisdom! Please . . .

“I like to come out here myself to think and pray.”

Susanna glanced right to see Reverend Smith approaching, dressed in khakis and a blue button-down shirt, his graying hair cropped close to his head.

“Reverend! Hey . . .” She started to rise but he dropped down onto the grass next to her.

“Mind if I join you?”

“Not at all.” A fresh wash of tears flooded her eyes.

“Beautiful day.” He propped his arms on his raised knees. In his midfifties, Reverend Smith had a youthful air, but his demeanor, his sermons, reflected his wise, contemplative life.

“Yes, it is.” One more word, and she’d burst. Tears. Gushes. Sobs.

“Mind if I ask you a question?”

She shook her head.

“What are you doing here? Aren’t you getting married in two weeks?”

She brushed away the slight trickle of tears twisting down her cheeks. “Two weeks and three days.” She peered at him. “I think.”

“You think?” He arched his brow. “Have you changed your mind? Because the hospitality ministry is very excited about the live broadcast we’ve planned for your wedding. There’s going to be a pancake breakfast. We expect a big turnout.” His soft laugh made her smile. “What’s going on? Care to tell me?”

Susanna yanked at the blades of grass beside her legs and recounted the events of last Friday to her pastor, right down to her argument with Nathaniel and her impulsive decision to leave her ring behind.

“Ah, I see. So the details were piling on, and then Nathaniel lit a fire under it all when he told you about your citizenship.”

“Pretty much.”

“But, my word, Susanna, you’re marrying a king.”

“Not as easy as it sounds. It’s no movie, I tell you.”

“Nor should it be. There’s a lot of responsibility with marrying any man, let alone a king.” The reverend patted her back.

“Yeah, I guess so.” More tears.