Summer Wedding Bells: Marriage Wanted / Lone Star Lovin'. Debbie Macomber
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With her hands joined to Nash’s, their eyes linked, she heard the pastor say, “Those of you wishing to renew your vows, repeat after me.”
Nash’s fingers squeezed hers as the pastor intoned the words. “I promise before God and all gathered here this day to take you as my wife. I promise to love and cherish you, to leave my heart and my life open to you.”
To Savannah’s amazement, Nash repeated the vow in a husky whisper. She could hear others around them doing the same. Once again tears filled her eyes. How easy it would be to pretend he was devoting his life to hers.
“I’ll treasure you as a gift from God, to encourage you to be all He meant you to be,” Savannah found herself repeating a few minutes later. “I promise to share your dreams, to appreciate your talents, to respect you. I pledge myself to you, to learn from and value our differences.” As she spoke, Savannah’s heart beat strong and steady and sure. Excitement rose up in her as she realized that what she’d said was true. These were the very things she yearned to do for Nash. She longed for him to trust her enough to allow her into his life, to help him bury the hurts of the past. They were different, as different as any couple could be. That didn’t make their relationship impossible. It added flavor, texture and challenge to their attraction. Life together would never be dull for them.
“I promise to give you the very best of myself, to be faithful to you, to be your friend and your partner,” Nash whispered next, his voice gaining strength. Sincerity rang through his words.
“I offer you my heart and my love,” Savannah repeated, her own heart ready to burst with unrestrained joy.
“You are my friend,” Nash returned, “my lover, my wife.”
It was as if they, too, were part of the ceremony, as if they, too, were pledging their love and their lives to each other.
Through the minister’s words, Savannah offered Nash all that she had to give. It wasn’t until they’d finished and Kurt was told to kiss his bride that Savannah remembered this wasn’t real. She’d stepped into a dreamworld, the fantasy she’d created out of her own futile need for love. Nash had only been following the minister’s lead. Mortified, she lowered her eyes and tugged her trembling fingers free from Nash’s.
He, too, apparently harbored regrets. His hands clasped the pew in front of them until his knuckles paled. He formed a fist with his right hand. Savannah dared not look up at him, certain he’d recognize her thoughts and fearing she’d know his. She couldn’t have borne the disappointment. For the next several hours they’d be forced to share each other’s company, through the dinner and the dance that followed the ceremony. Savannah wasn’t sure how she was going to manage it now, after she’d humiliated herself.
Thankfully she was spared having to face Nash immediately after the ceremony was over. He became a part of the reception line that welcomed friends and relatives. Savannah was busy herself, working with the woman she’d hired to help coordinate the wedding and reception. Together they took down the pew bows, which would serve as floral centerpieces for the dinner.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more beautiful ceremony,” Nancy Mastell told Savannah, working furiously. “You’d think I’d be immune to this after all the weddings we attend.”
“It…was beautiful,” Savannah agreed. Her stomach was in knots, and her heart told her how foolish she’d been; nevertheless, she couldn’t make herself regret what had happened. She’d learned something about herself, something she’d denied far too long. She needed love in her life. For years she’d cut herself off from opportunity, content to live off the happiness of others. She’d moved from one day to the next, carrying her pain and disappointment, never truly happy, never fulfilled. Pretending.
This was why Nash threatened her. She couldn’t pretend with him. Instinctively he knew. For reasons she’d probably never understand, he saw straight through her.
“Let me get those,” Nancy said. “You’re a wedding guest.”
“I can help.” But Nancy insisted otherwise.
When Savannah returned to the vestibule, she found Nash waiting for her. They drove in silence to the high-end hotel, where Nash had rented an elegant banquet room for the evening.
Savannah prayed he’d say something to cut the terrible tension. She could think of nothing herself. A long list of possible topics presented itself, but she couldn’t come up with a single one that didn’t sound silly or trite.
Heaven help her, she didn’t know how they’d be able to spend the rest of the evening in each other’s company.
Dinner proved to be less of a problem than Savannah expected. They were seated at a table with two delightful older gentlemen whom Nash introduced as John Stackhouse and Arnold Serle, the senior partners of the law firm that employed him. John was a widower, she gathered, and Arnold’s wife was in England with her sister.
“Mighty nice wedding,” Mr. Stackhouse told Nash.
“Thank you. I wish I could take credit, but it’s the fruit of Savannah’s efforts you’re seeing.”
“Beautiful wedding,” Mr. Serle added. “I can’t remember when I’ve enjoyed one more.”
Savannah was waiting for a sarcastic remark from Nash, but one never came. She didn’t dare hope that he’d changed his opinion, and guessed it had to do with the men who were seated with them.
Savannah spread the linen napkin across her lap. When she looked up, she discovered Arnold Serle watching her. She wondered if her mascara had run or if there was something wrong with her makeup. Her doubts must have shown in her eyes, because he grinned and winked at her.
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