A Convenient Proposal(70)
ARDEN AWOKE SMILING on Valentine’s Day, thinking of the sensuous night just past and inhaling the delicious aroma of coffee.
“Happy Valentine’s Day.” Griff sat down on the bed beside her and leaned over to give her a coffee-flavored kiss. “Don’t get up. I’m ready to leave.”
“Too bad. We could have breakfast in bed. Again.” They’d spent all of the rainy Sunday just past exactly that way. “Is the weather better?”
“Still raining, and spitting snow. Not quite what you hope for on your wedding day.” He kissed her again and stood up. “I’ll see you this afternoon. Dad kept the surgery schedule light and there are no appointments after three, so I have a good chance of actually making it to the wedding by six.”
His well-laid plans fell apart when a prize mare on the far side of the county had trouble giving birth. Griff called Arden on his way out, predicting he would return in plenty of time to dress and drive her to the wedding.
He called again with twenty minutes to spare, telling her to go on without him.
Finally back at the cottage, he hurried into his dress pants, then went to the bathroom to shave. Arden must have waited until the very last moment before getting ready, and she’d left more of a clutter than usual—her makeup bag, cosmetics and hair tools littered the counter.
Griff pulled out the electric razor to give his jaw a smooth finish, surveying the feminine disarray as he worked. A rolled up tube—obviously not toothpaste—caught his eye.
The label stopped his heart for several seconds.
Spermicidal lubricant.
He flipped off the razor and looked at himself in the mirror. “Now why would you be trying to kill the little buggers if you wanted to make a baby?”
AFTER WAITING AS LONG AS she dared, Arden reached the church just before the grandmothers of the bride and groom were to be seated. The Campbells filled up an entire pew, so she sat alone, farther back, leaving space for Griff on the aisle.
When she’d confessed that she’d never attended a wedding, Griff had enacted for her, in hilarious detail, the traditional Southern marriage service. She now felt quite prepared to enjoy every aspect of Zelda and Al’s ceremony.
Especially since she would not be having one of her own.
The church, dating from before the Civil War, was lit by candles and filled with large arrangements of white lilies and gladiolas accented with red roses. The customary tune of Wagner’s “Wedding Chorus” played quietly as Zelda’s attendants came down the center aisle, each dress a slightly deeper shade of pink than the last, until Kayli Morgan appeared as the matron of honor, wearing a true, deep red. The five of them made a lovely gradient effect at the front of the sanctuary, balanced on the other side by Al’s friends, all wearing black tuxedos with red and pink roses in their lapels.
Zelda’s entrance was heralded by trumpets from the organ and a sudden crescendo. She wore a lovely, fullskirted dress, with a long veil over her face, and carried a trailing white bouquet.
Griff slipped into the pew beside Arden a moment before the minister started to speak. He gave her a tired grin, then took her hand and directed his attention to the bride and groom.
So here they were. They’d accomplished what he’d set out to do six weeks ago—project the image of a successful and satisfied man as he returned to his hometown. She’d fulfilled her side of the agreement and given him an adoring girlfriend to show off. No one had expressed the least doubt about their relationship. She could go back to Chaos Key with pride in a job well done.
And if her heart was broken, that wasn’t Griff’s fault. He’d done absolutely everything a man could to make her happy. The flaw was hers. And she would bear the cost alone.
The marriage ceremony took only minutes, which seemed odd given the amount of time spent planning and anticipating it. Al and Zelda faced each other, holding hands, as the minister asked the standard questions. “Do you take this man…for better or worse, richer or poorer…as long as you both shall live?” After the vows, Al and Zelda lit a candle together, then knelt while the minister prayed. And then came the official pronouncement: “Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to present to you Alexander and Zelda McPherson.”
Mendelssohn’s triumphant recessional rang through the church. Audience members rose to their feet as Al and Zelda returned along the aisle, smiling widely and greeting people on either side. The bridesmaids and groomsmen followed, creating a brushstroke effect of red against black, which would produce a lovely image to treasure through the years.