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Six months later
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Cecilia checked herself in the looking glass nearly a dozen times before she decided she looked decent enough to make her appearance. Her hair had been curled, pinned and primped until there wasn't a single hair out of place. Her dress was somewhat plain, but she believed it suited her. She pinched a bit of color into her cheeks and sighed at the shadow around her eyes. She was so nervous about her wedding, she hadn't slept the previous night.
She was led down the aisle by Wilomena's father, because Cecilia's own father had passed away long ago. She still saw him in her dreams sometimes—when she was lucky. In her dream world, her father congratulated her, promised he would attend the wedding, and told her he approved of George. She got to hug him again, and as he wiped the tears from her eyes, her father assured her they would meet again. He promised she would eventually reunite with everyone she lost, including Wilomena.
Her niece's death had devastated her. She lost her greatest friend, and she wished they had spent more time together. Cecilia missed Wilomena every minute of every day. Her tragic death was never far from her mind.
As she was led down the aisle, the smiling lips of George Shrewsbury put her at ease. He was the handsomest man she had ever seen, and he would always be the handsomest. When she met him at the aisle's end, his smile was infectious. Despite her heavy heart, he made her grin like a schoolgirl.
Before the vicar's speech commenced, George whispered to her, “You look beautiful.”
Cecilia shook her head, rejecting the compliment, but secretly appreciating it. George was the only man in the world who made her feel worthy of love. She would have replied, but the vicar was already speaking, so Cecilia joined hands with her soon-to-be husband and listened to his speech.
When she glanced at the audience, she was shamed by the number of empty seats. George and she had few friends, and they had both suffered the loss of many members of their family. She recognized a couple of cousins and uncles, and her mother was in the front row, smiling from ear-to-ear. She never expected her spinster daughter to find a husband, and she frequently voiced her surprise and approval.
There were a few empty chairs in the front. Cecilia imagined her niece and father in them. The thought gave her a tiny bit of comfort, and she turned back to George with contentedness in her eyes. When the vicar finished his long speech, her hew husband lightly kissed her lips and wrapped her in his arms. She felt guilty for being happy, but starting a new life with the man of her dreams was a thrilling, dizzying thought.
He whispered in her ear, “I love you, Cee.”
Cecilia suppressed a giggle as she echoed the sentiment. “I love you too.”
“I wish Wilomena could have been with us,” George said. They never spoke of his brother—for good reason. He was the one who had robbed them of total joy.
“So do I.”
“Perhaps she is with us in spirit?” George suggested. “You know, I had a dream of her last night. She was with that man who used to visit you in dreams... Rain, was it?”
“I would like to think she is here. It's a comforting thought.” Once again, Cecilia glanced at the empty chairs. In her mind, she filled them with her lost friends. “Until you've lost someone, you cannot fully comprehend the pain of it.”
“True enough,” George said. “If she was here, I'm sure she would be happy for you.”
Smiling at her husband, Cecilia agreed, “I'm sure she would be.”
* * *
“Cecilia looks lovely. I may be guilty of a father's bias, but I believe she looks lovelier than any bride I've ever seen,” said Jonathan Aubrey. He was sitting in the front row with another young couple, and he constantly claimed those seats were saved for them. “What do you think? Will George make her happy? He seems like a nice young man, but I'm not without worry. He's related to that other man, after all.”
“Please don't compare him to Arthur! That wouldn't be fair to George!” Wilomena defended him. “Judge him on his own merits. Just because someone is related, that doesn't mean they're similar in any way. Cecilia, for example, is nothing like the woman you married.”
“Her mother? Yes, I suppose you're right. That woman was always a bit... overbearing. Cecilia, to her credit, turned out nothing like her.” Jonathan studied his niece in the corner of his eye. Specifically, his gaze landed on her fingers, which were joined with another man's. “What about your beau, Wilomena? Does he make you happy?”
Wilomena smiled at Rain, who had dressed to the nines for Cecilia's big day. He usually wore the clothes of his homeland, but today, he wore a greatcoat and cravat. She thought he looked handsome. In her eyes, he was always handsome.
Wilomena asked, “What do you think, Rain? Do you make me happy?”
“I hope I do,” Rain replied. “If I don't, I'm failing the one and only task that matters to me.”
Wilomena kissed their conjoined hands and said, “You exaggerate, but I appreciate the sentiment.”
“I exaggerate? I think not!” Rain exclaimed. “For years, your happiness was my primary concern. Now that we're together, that hasn't changed. It's become more relevant than ever.”
“Do I make you happy?” Wilo whispered to Rain. She liked her Uncle Jonathan, but he didn't need to hear the most intimate parts of their conversation.
Rain raised an eyebrow. “Is that a serious question?”
“Yes. Quite!”
Rain squeezed her hand and gave her an answer that would shred any doubt. “Of course you make me happy. That should be obvious to anyone.”
As her spirit guide, he felt like a failure when Wilomena died. As a man who loved her, he was glad to have her at his side.
When Cecilia and George locked lips at the ceremony's end, Wilo nudged her beau.
“Do you think we could be married one day?” she asked.
“Certainly!” he exclaimed. “I would marry you today, if you wished it.”
“That sounds curiously like a proposal, Rain,” she cautioned him.
He answered with a grin, “And what if it was?”
Wilomena's eyes stayed on Cecilia as she marched down the aisle with her new husband. Their joy was infectious, and it broadened Wilo's smile. She told Rain, “We should get married soon, but not today. This is Cecilia's day. We'll have our own day soon enough.”
While Jonathan's attention was elsewhere, Rain indulged himself in a brush with Wilo's lips. “Good,” he said. “I look forward to the day when I can make you my wife.”
“Good,” she echoed him. “I look forward to the day when I am your wife.”
There were elements of her old life that she missed—like Cecilia. Wilomena missed their long chats and walks in the garden.
She would always miss her, but at least she could watch over her. Wilo would be the most vigilant guardian her aunt ever had.
She whispered to Rain, “I love you.” He was the only man in her life who ever deserved those words.
Softly, Rain said, “I love you too.” He was the only man in her life who returned the words and meant them.
Together, they could enjoy eternity.