If there were any other eyes on me besides Manning’s as I walked down the aisle, I didn’t notice. I heard only what I felt—pine needles crunching underfoot, the brush of my dad’s suit against my dress, and the echo of my heartbeat in my ears. The setting sun cast a glow on Manning as we reached him.
My dad turned to me. “Love you, Lake,” he said, and that was enough, but he added, “I’m proud of the woman you’ve become, even if I had little hand in it.”
“You were there with me every day, Dad, even if we were apart.” The back of my throat burned as I held back tears. I hugged him. “For better or worse.”
He chuckled, then let me go before nodding at Manning. I stepped up to the altar, pausing to run my fingertips over the smooth wood. Carved into the underside of the arch, where only Manning, the minister, and I could see, were tiny, almost invisible stars, and the initials L+M in the center.
“Charles helped,” Manning said.
My dad smiled at me as he took his seat. I moved in front of Manning with tears in my eyes, but I could hardly look at him without losing it. I scratched Blue’s head, then glanced at the ground in a vain attempt to compose myself . . . and noticed Manning’s shoes. At my urging, he’d spent time and money getting a custom suit for today, but I’d forgotten to ask about his footwear. Through my teary vision, I inhaled a laugh at his Timberlands.
“Friends and family—” the officiant began, pausing as Manning put a knuckle under my chin to lift my eyes to meet his. I swallowed thickly but held his gaze and heard nothing else until it was my turn to repeat my vows, and then Manning his.
I’d asked Manning once, months ago, if we should write our own vows, but he’d said no. He wanted to marry me in front of friends and family, but our most private and intimate feelings were just that—private and intimate. After so many years of not sharing with Manning how I felt, he was the only person I cared to tell anyway.
We exchanged rings. Manning placed my palm in his and kissed the back of it before sliding on a simple gold band. I put a matching ring on his roughened hand.
“By the power vested in me,” the minister said, “I now pronounce you husband and wife. Manning—”
Manning’s mouth slid into a sly smile. “Yes?”
“You may now kiss your bride.”
Manning gathered me in his arms, but instead of kissing me, he shifted to whisper in my ear. “I love you, Lake Sutter. I don’t know why you trusted me that first day or any day after it. You mesmerized me. There was, and still is, something in the way you are. Your blue eyes brought peace and light to my dark and noisy head.” He drew back and took a moment to collect himself. “I think maybe you saved me, Birdy.”
With his last words, my tears finally slid free. I shook my head. “You saved yourself.”
“You did. More than once. If my life wasn’t everything it is,” he said, nodding over the crowd toward our house, “it would be nothing.”
I fisted his lapels to pull him closer, crying openly now. “Manning.”
“Yeah, Birdy.”
He picked me up by my waist so I could whisper in his ear. “I told you City Hall would’ve been fine, that the where and how and when didn’t matter. But you saw right through me. Deep down, I still held on to the fear that we wouldn’t make it here. That we wouldn’t get this moment. So, I pretended it wasn’t important who witnessed it, or how it was done, but it is, and you knew that. Maybe I saved your life, I don’t know about that, but you love me with an intensity that can’t be reckoned with. I fear for anyone who tries to get in our way. I’d say I want to spend forever with you, but forever isn’t long enough.”
“No, it isn’t,” he agreed.
“Now kiss me, Great Bear, and let’s make this official.”
10
Two hours into our marriage, I’d already lost my husband. Husband. My toes curled, and not just because I was failing to contain my happiness. The word husband actually did things to me—things that made me want to steal him away from the reception. That might’ve been possible anywhere else, but not in our home, where guests would easily miss us.
My gut told me he’d snuck off on purpose, so I wasn’t surprised to find him in the front yard with Henry and my dad. Each of them stood with loosened ties, a tumbler in one hand, and a cigar in the other.
“What’d I tell you, Manning?” Dad asked, winking at me as I picked up the skirt of my dress and descended the porch steps. “Now that you’re married, you won’t get ten minutes to yourself.”