IT WAS LATE summer when the family gathered for the wedding, a bright, cool day with a light breeze whipping up a few cheeky wavelets on the harbour.
Fran’s mother had arrived two days earlier, and it seemed to Fran they’d hardly stopped talking since she’d landed at the airport. They’d talked of her mother’s marriage and Fran’s childhood, remembering, laughing and sometimes crying.
With her mother’s help, Fran slid into the light summer dress she’d chosen for her wedding. Cream, with a scattering of bright red flowers, not hibiscus but close enough to have reminded her of the island.
‘Do you like it?’ she asked, arms held out as she twirled in front of her mother, the soft silk of the material swirling from a band beneath her bust.
‘Love it,’ her mother said. ‘And so will Steve when he sees that neckline!’
Immediately wary, Fran lifted her hands to cover the hint of depth between her breasts, and her mother laughed.
‘It’s wonderful,’ she assured Fran. ‘I was only teasing you. Now, you’re sure about this?’
Fran looked into her mother’s eyes.
‘More sure than I’ve ever been of anything in my life. I love him, Mum, more than I had ever imagined loving anyone.’
‘And Nigel?’
Fran grinned. ‘Who’s Nigel?’
And they both laughed, but the conversation brought them to the subject of love.
‘We’ve both loved badly,’ her mother said softly, ‘but seeing you with Steve I know how right this marriage is. Don’t ever be afraid to give freely of your love. I didn’t know that when I married. I was brought up to not show emotion and I probably taught you that as well, but love is so precious you have to nurture it so it flourishes in every corner of your life for ever.’
A light tap at the door, and as her mother hurried to open it, Fran looked out over the harbour, sparkling in the sunshine, the ferries like toy boats a child might play with in the bath.
She patted her stomach then rested her hand on the bulge, thinking of this child in the bath with boats.
Or on a boat going over to the Zoo, perhaps growing up to be a doctor…
Or not, it didn’t matter, for not only was this the child she’d never thought to have, but it was Steve’s child and doubly precious for that!
Nikki arrived, looking stunning in red, her dress the same design as Fran’s and, in Nikki’s opinion, very grown-up!
‘Oh, you look fabulous!’ she said, and the expression on her face told Fran she meant it.
‘And so do you,’ Fran told her, ‘but what’s the box?’
‘Oh, I forgot! Steve said to give it to you.’
She handed Fran a clear plastic box. Nestled inside it was a brilliant red hibiscus.
Opening the box, Fran saw the note.
‘Which ear?’ Steve had written, and Fran laughed. She lifted the flower, and going to the mirror settled it behind her left ear.
‘Definitely taken,’ she said, smiling at her mother and Nikki, who both shook their heads at the strange wedding headdress.
‘It’s time,’ her mother said. ‘You really want to do this?’
Fran could only smile, but she kissed her mother and gave her a tight hug, blinking back tears as her mother took her hand to lead her and Nikki down the stairs and out through the garden to a gazebo at the edge of the property, where, with friends and family around them, and the harbour sparkling behind them, they promised to love and honour each other for the rest of their lives.
The guests drifted back to the terrace where drinks and food was being served,
But Steve held Fran’s hand and looked out over the beautiful view.
‘I love you, Francesca Louise Ransome,’ he said softly, ‘with all my heart and mind and body.’
Then he drew her close—or as close as her belly allowed—and kissed her, ignoring the wolf whistles from his family on the terrace behind them.
* * * * *