The Best Man (Blue Heron #1)(37)
From a place dark and deep inside her, something roared.
Nope. No. Uh-uh. It was just stage fright. She was, by far, the luckiest woman in the world. Being your husband is everything I’ve ever wanted. Come on! Those were words she could take to the bank! Nothing could be wrong when a man said words like that. This was marital gold.
The limo pulled up in front of Trinity Lutheran, the stone church where the Hollands had gone for generations, and the tourists who were wandering on the green stopped to look as the wedding party got out. “You’re so beautiful!” one woman called. The photographer snapped her picture as she bent to kiss Abby’s cheek, a picture that would go on to win a prize in a national photography contest later that year.
Then, holding on to her father’s arm, Colleen fluffing her dress, Faith went into the church to marry the man she’d loved since the first day she’d met him, when, like the hero in a movie, he’d carried her unconscious form in his strong arms. Okay, that sounded creepy, but it hadn’t been. It had been wonderful, or so she was told.
There he was, standing on the altar, so handsome in his tux, tall and manly. He was smiling at someone, maybe one of his patients, because half the town had flocked to him, never mind that he was barely done with his residency. Levi had made it, she noted; he looked older in his dress uniform. He was shorter than Jeremy, his hair sticking up a little in front. His face was somber; he must’ve been tired from all his traveling. Faith couldn’t help thinking it’d be nice if he could fake a smile. It was her wedding day, after all, and the man looked as if he was at a funeral.
Pachelbel’s Canon in D began, and Pru started down the aisle. Honor turned, and, so uncharacteristically, hugged Faith. “Love you,” she whispered, then started down herself, followed by Colleen and then Abby.
Pachelbel stopped, then, and the wedding march began.
Faith’s heart rate tripled. She tried to keep her eyes on Jeremy, felt her face stretching in a smile, but damned if she didn’t feel...wrong.
Just nervous, her brain lied.
It seemed like the entire town was there, looking at her: Dr. Buckthal, her neurologist, and his wife. Theresa DeFilio, one of the truly nice girls from high school, a baby on her shoulder, handsome husband at her side. Jessica Dunn, yawning. Laura Boothby who’d done such an amazing job with the flowers. Ted and Elaine, smiling brightly. Connor O’Rourke. Mrs. Johnson and Jack in the front row. So many people. Way too many.
When Reverend White asked who gave this woman in marriage, Dad answered, “Her mother and I,” and the congregation sighed with the bittersweet beauty of his words. Daddy kissed her cheek, tears in his eyes, and shook Jeremy’s hand, leaning in to give him a one-armed hug. “Take care of my baby,” he said, then went to his seat.
Jeremy’s hands were clammy. “You look so beautiful,” he whispered, his lips pulling back in something like a smile. His gaze bounced from her to somewhere over her head.
He wasn’t nervous. He was terrified.
A floating feeling enveloped Faith, almost like the auras that preceded her seizures, but different, too. Faith could hear her own breathing, rather than the words of the minister, the readings—one by Jack, one by Jeremy’s cousin Anne. The wedding seemed to slow into endlessness. It hadn’t seemed so long at the rehearsal. Honestly, it was the longest wedding in history! Why hadn’t they gotten to the vows yet? She couldn’t look at Jeremy and focused on the readers instead, on Reverend White, on her bouquet.
Maybe it was the epilepsy. Faith tried to wrestle her faulty brain into order, to press each detail into her memory. Enjoy the day, that’s what everyone told her, but, hell, it seemed like she might be on the verge of that dark, epileptic hole. She’d been religious about taking her meds. Hadn’t had a seizure in three years. Please, not that, not now.
The seizure didn’t come, but the sense of doom pressed in on her like hot lead.
Now the minister was talking about marriage and the seriousness of two people pledging their lives together. Faith couldn’t concentrate. She just wanted to say her vows and be Jeremy’s wife. She wanted to promise to love him all the days of her life, because she would. He was the One. Just a few more minutes, and it would be official, and please, get this over with, was this a normal way to be feeling, couldn’t they just fast forward to the part where people were throwing birdseed?
Reverend White finally stopped blathering. He looked out over the congregation, and Faith looked, too, all those smiling faces, her dad looking so proud, her grandparents beaming. Almost there. Almost there. She looked back at Jeremy. His face was oily with sweat, his hands damp and hot, clenching hers.
“Before we begin the vows,” the reverend said, “does anyone know of a reason these two should not be wed? If so, speak now, or forever hold your peace.”
Her heart was now beating so hard she could feel the separate chambers rolling and squeezing.
No one said anything.
The reverend smiled. “I didn’t think so. In that case—”
“Jeremy.” The voice was so low, it might not have actually been spoken. But, no, Jeremy flinched.
It was Levi. “Jeremy. Come on.”
What? Why was he talking? He looked so damn solemn in that uniform. So...authoritative. Why did he have to come? Why couldn’t his plane have been late?
Jeremy’s breathing was jagged. The sheen of sweat grew, droplets beading on his forehead. He licked his lips and swallowed, then opened his mouth to speak.