It amazed Bessie how quickly Mr. Asparagus put together the wedding reenactment. And he did it in style. Now, two days later, she looked around at the chairs set up among the dandelions, along with a wigwam skeleton made of pristine white pine and decorated with a strand of roses artfully wrapped around two of the front poles. Rose petals lay scattered on the ground underneath. A minister waited for her inside the teepee. Archie had even gone to the trouble of securing a piano and moving it to the hillside above the lake. A photographer stood off to one side. Every seat was filled. Though she saw several familiar faces, there were also many she didn’t recognize.
It was a beautiful setting, one she’d love to re-create for her real wedding someday if she were allowed to have what she wanted.
Delicious aromas came from the big house, too. Mr. Asparagus’s staff must have worked all night, cooking and baking for this resort-opening party.
She smoothed her hands over the sequins stitched to her white dress as she tried to wipe the moisture away. It wasn’t a real wedding, but with Mr. Hale’s gaze fixed on her so intently, a half smile on his face, and the crowd of “well-wishers” rising with the beginning of the wedding march, it seemed as if it might be. Butterflies and bees swarmed in her stomach. Her knees wobbled.
She didn’t dare look for her cousins. They were somewhere in the front, giggling as they had been all morning. Their comments ran through her thoughts in refrain. “Not every girl gets to playact the entire wedding ceremony. What great practice for the real thing when it’s time.”
But her real wedding wouldn’t be beside Lake Huron, with Round Island Lighthouse in the distance. No. It’d be in a dark cathedral in Grand Rapids, music from the pipe organ filling the room.
Yet this lakeside ceremony was much more romantic.
Her heart pounded as she began the slow, hesitant wedding march toward the fake preacher and her make-believe groom. His gaze held hers the entire time, a strange light in his eyes that made her wish things were different. Maybe even real and not pretend.
His smile grew as he held his hand out to her. After a moment’s hesitation she took it. Warmth spread up to her shoulder and beyond.
The preacher cleared his throat. “We are gathered here today in the sight of God and angels, and the presence of friends and loved ones, to celebrate one of life’s greatest moments, to give recognition to the worth and beauty of love, and to add our best wishes and blessings to the words which shall unite Thomas Hale and Elizabeth O’Hara in holy matrimony.”
Her heart skipped a beat then raced. The preacher used their real names. Not the ones of the people they were representing. But maybe Mr. Asparagus had forgotten to mention it to the pastor, or maybe since they were just posing for pictures of a fake ceremony it didn’t really matter. At any rate, it would be rude to interrupt and tell the preacher he had the names wrong.
She glanced at Thomas as his hand tightened around hers. He still smiled, his gaze on her, as if he was trying to soak up every moment of this day.
She moistened her lips and his gaze dropped to them, his smile faltering.
No. Surely they wouldn’t include the lines about kissing your bride…. Her heart stumbled then revved like one of those newfangled motorcars. Mr. Asparagus couldn’t be so crass as to want a picture of them kissing.
The photographer shifted the camera a little and a puff of smoke or something rose from it. The preacher droned on, talking about verses in Ephesians and comparing marriage between husband and wife to Christ and the church. Did she need to listen closely since this was a trial run for her future wedding, somewhere down the road?
“Repeat after me. I, Thomas take thee, Elizabeth, to be my wife. To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, and I promise my love to you forevermore.”
Mr. Hale, Thomas, repeated the words with reverence.
Bessie’s breath lodged in her throat.
If only he meant them.
The preacher turned toward her.
“I, Elizabeth, take thee, Thomas, to be my husband. To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, and I promise my love to you forevermore.”
His hand tightened, his thumb sliding across the back of her hand. Tingles raced up her arm. She repeated the preacher’s words, hating that she couldn’t control the huskiness in her voice. Her cousins would tease her about it mercilessly.
“Thomas and Elizabeth, as you this day affirm your faith and love for one another, I would ask that you always remember to cherish each other as special and unique individuals, that you respect the thoughts, ideas, and suggestions of one another. Be able to forgive, do not hold grudges, and live each day that you may share it together—as from this day forward you shall be each other’s home, comfort, and refuge, your marriage strengthened by your love and respect.”
A pause. Somebody coughed.
“With the power vested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife.” Then, “You may kiss your bride.”
Thomas stared down at Bessie’s—Elizabeth’s—upturned face. The correct thing to do would be to thank her for a realistic display, and end this charade. But…he wanted to kiss her. Wanted to eke every bit of enjoyment out of this as he possibly could. A kiss would be one more thing to remember her by.
But then again, it might ruin her, being kissed in a pretend marriage ceremony. Why hadn’t Archie warned him about this?
Someone in the crowd giggled, and Reverend Stout cleared his throat. “Go ahead now. Don’t be shy.”
A chuckle came from somewhere on Thomas’s side of the seated guests.
A pretend kiss. On the cheek would be enough.
Thomas dipped his head, catching the scent of lavender. Brushed his lips across her oh-so-soft cheek, achingly close to her lips. Then pulled away.
“I now present Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Hale.”
“Step over here.” Mrs. Stout—who matched her name and her husband in appearance—waved at them from the piano bench as she rose to her feet. “We need your signatures.” She shoved a piece of paper and an ink pen across the top of the piano. She kept her hand covering the top of the page.
Thomas—his hand still wrapped around Bessie’s—headed over to her. “What’s this?”
“Just so we get your names right for the paper.” A man Thomas recognized from the newspaper pushed his way forward.
The camera was shuffled again for another shot as they signed. Thomas rolled his eyes. If Archie paid this much attention to detail, his resort was sure to be a success.
Thomas nodded, took the pen—it scratched—and scrawled out Thomas Edward Hale then handed the pen to Bessie.
Her hand shook as she took the pen, and she hesitated. “Should I sign my real name or what everyone calls me?”
“Your real name, dear,” Mrs. Stout said.
She glanced shyly at Thomas then leaned closer and wrote Elizabeth Cordelia O’Hara. He caught the scent of lavender and roses. Breathed it in so he could recall it during the long, lonely nights ahead of him.
Mrs. Stout’s hand shifted, revealing the calligraphy at the top of the page. It read “Marriage Certificate.”
Thomas reached for the paper, but Mrs. Stout jerked it back and put it in her songbook. “Thank you, dear. It’s all taken care of.”
Yes, but…Internal alarms rang. A contract was legal and binding….
“Refreshments are in the house, I understand.” The preacher’s wife gathered up the songbook, clutched it tightly to her side, and headed in that direction at a fast clip.
Thomas extended his elbow to Bessie. He’d visit the preacher and sort out the wording of the paper later. Because surely…there wasn’t any way…
No. He was mistaken. Had to be.
After a moment’s hesitation, Bessie tucked her hand in the crook of Mr. Hale’s arm and allowed him to escort her to the house. Really, though, it seemed as if they’d gone beyond the formalities, and into a closer relationship. Probably all due to the structure and order of the wedding ceremony, even though it was fake. And all for the sake of getting pictures so Mr. Asparagus could advertise his resort.
She looked around for the cameraman, but he’d vanished, along with his camera.
Seemed they could have taken the pictures without actually performing the ceremony. Preaching the sermon. Playing the wedding march. Not to mention the kiss, which had been as sweet and gentle as she’d imagined on the ferry. Yet lacking, because he’d missed her lips.
How many photos did they need for one brochure or newspaper article? And of so many different events? Though it was conceivable that Mr. Asparagus would want several different shots so he could choose which he liked the best.
Mr. Hale escorted her into a lavishly decorated dining room. White tablecloths, napkins folded in the shape of swans, vases filled with white roses and lilacs on the table. He seated her where the butler indicated then sat beside her.
Much too close.
Their elbows would become intimately acquainted during this meal. The reenactment would give her the chance to get to know him better without her cousins criticizing her behavior. The giddiness she felt reminded her of the moonlight dance, and of getting lost in his eyes and his wink behind the honeysuckle bushes near the dandelion field.
After a prayer offered by the preacher, the maids served the first course of smoked salmon with horseradish and caviar along with a small garden salad.
The main course was pork tenderloin with roasted rhubarb, wild rice with mushrooms, and garden-fresh steamed green beans with pearl onions and bacon bits.
Slices of a white wedding cake decorated with cherries rounded out the meal.
Mr. Hale leaned close, his breath warm against her ear. “The whole meal and the wedding cake seem overdone. Are they even taking pictures of the food? If they are, it must be in the kitchen.”
Bessie barely controlled a shiver caused by his warm breath and the intimacy of the moment. She didn’t know anything about how or why Mr. Asparagus planned things. She hoped it helped his resort, though. The house and grounds were nice, and people likely would love staying here.
As the evening drew to a close, the preacher’s wife came up and wrapped Bessie in her arms. Bessie stiffened, pulling back a little, but the woman leaned close.
“I hope you and Tommy will be very happy together. He deserves some goodness in his life. And you seem like a very sweet young lady.”
What? Did she believe they were really married?