Jenny Carstairs, moving to the altar to receive the offerings of bread and wine from the bride and groom, was likewise aware of a subtle change in the atmosphere, as if the air itself had suddenly been charged with fresh and vibrant energy. That aura of freshness remained, heady as incense, throughout the ensuing Communion service, nuptial celebration sliding easily into the proper liturgy for Christmas Eve.
As the bride and groom gave one another Communion and then the wedding guests came forward, one by one, to share the sacramental bread and drink the wine of gladness, a profound sense of peace settled over the company, made the more poignant when Jenny came to give Communion to the weakening Lockhart. Conveyed without words to all who shared this Eucharistic banquet was the surety that the bond between heaven and earth stood once again affirmed by the coming of the Light of the World - an affirmation reinforced by the words of the final collect Jenny had chosen.
"O God, you have caused this holy night to shine with the brightness of the true Light," she prayed, lifting her hands in orison. "Grant that we, who have known the mystery of that Light on earth, may also enjoy Him perfectly in heaven, where with You and the Holy Spirit He lives and reigns, one God, in glory everlasting. Amen."
Following these words, and at a murmured request from Ximena, Jenny Carstairs invited everyone to sing "Silent Night," with little Emma to start them off. Emma's piping voice made itself heard among the others like a flute among violins, clear and sweet and tremulous. Somewhere in the midst of the singing, Alan Lockhart quietly surrendered to his weakness and allowed his eyes to close.
Adam was the first to notice, his eye caught by the glint of his Adept ring as Lockhart's hand opened atop the blankets draped across his chest. Ximena saw her new husband's glance and turned with a soft intake of breath, even as her mother gasped and pressed Lockhart's other hand to her lips. "Dear God!" Teresa whispered.
Adam was already moving closer to press his fingers to the side of Lockhart's throat, feeling for a pulse. Saloa, too, had started forward, but Ximena shook her head emphatically, seizing her father's free hand to bathe it with her silent tears as her brothers crowded closer to the foot of the bed. Philippa was comforting Laurel, and one of the nurses had taken Emma by the hand and was leading her from the room.
Adam could sense the fragile balance still binding Lockhart to his wasted body, but the pulse was a mere flutter beneath his fingertips, his breathing very shallow.
"He's going," Adam murmured, laying his other hand on the failing man's brow and bending closer to his ear. "Alan, we're here," he whispered, gently stroking the forehead. "No pain, Alan. No pain - only the Light. Embrace the Light, Alan. It's all right to let go now. It's time to go home. Ximena, tell him it's all right to let go. Teresa, tell him it's all right."
"It's all right," Teresa breathed through her tears, softly repeating it over and over. "It's all right, querido. It's all right. Vaya con Dios, mi corazon…."
And Ximena, pressing her lips to her father's slack hand, also whispered, "It's all right, Daddy. I love you. It's all right. It's all right…."
At the touch of her lips a brief flicker of movement stirred Lockhart's closed eyelids. The merest ghost of a smile passed over his face, then departed with a sigh.
He did not draw breath again. Nor was any attempt made to resuscitate him. When Dr. Saloa had confirmed his passing, and Ximena numbly pressed herself into the comforting circle of Adam's arm, Adam gently retrieved his ring and slipped it into a pocket while the other members of Lockhart's family paid their final respects one by one and left the room, until only Adam, Ximena, and her mother remained. Someone had started the CD-player again, and Gregorian chant once more whispered in the background.
"I would like a moment," Teresa said softly, still sitting by her husband's side with his hand in hers.
Nodding wordlessly, Ximena removed her bridal wreath and laid it tenderly on her father's chest, then retrieved her bouquet from the altar and set it in the wreath's circle, bending to kiss his forehead a final time in farewell. Only then did she allow Adam to lead her from the room, closing the door behind them.
Outside, Vance was weeping in the embrace of Jenny Car-stairs, and Philippa was comforting Austen and Laurel. One of the nurses had drawn little Emma aside and was plying her with a can of soda. As Adam and Ximena emerged from the room, Dr. Saloa left the solemn knot of his medical colleagues to come over to them.
"Is your mother all right?" he asked Ximena. "Would you like me to get her a sedative?"
"No." Ximena shook her head numbly. "She'll be all right. She's just saying goodbye. Thank you for everything, Andy. I - can't believe it's finally over."
Emma, meanwhile, was becoming increasingly frustrated that more refreshments were not forthcoming.
"Daddy, I think Grandpa fell asleep at the wedding," she piped. "Shouldn't somebody wake him up? He's going to miss the party and the cake."
In her innocence, she did not comprehend the irony in what she said, but her words gave Adam sudden inspiration. Taking both Ximena and Saloa by the elbows, he bore them over to the reception table, beckoning for the others to gather around.
"Emma," he called, ducking briefly to pull two bottles of champagne from one of the ice chests, "no one's going to miss the party. Your Auntie Mena is going to cut you a piece of cake, and Dr. Saloa is going to help me pour the champagne. Andy, your surgical skills do extend to opening a bottle of champagne, don't they?" he asked, handing a bottle to Saloa and twisting at the foil-wrapped wire that held the cork on his own. "I should like to propose a toast to an absent friend."
All conversation had ceased as he began to speak. But as his intentions became clear, Saloa began energetically attacking his bottle and Philippa slipped deftly to Ximena's side to help her cut a small piece of cake for Emma. The pop of the champagne corks seemed to free the rest from their stunned silence and draw them close around the table, there to take up glasses and extend them for filling. Little Emma, with her slice of cake and a towel pinned around her neck to protect her party dress, settled herself in a chair against the wall. There she began happily forking butter creme frosting into her rosy mouth, while several more nurses from the floor gathered around as word of Lockhart's passing began to spread.
As Adam checked to make sure that everyone had champagne, Ximena whispered in his ear and then went back into her father's room for a moment, soon emerging with her mother, once again wearing her bridal wreath. Taking up two glasses, Adam made his way over to them, kissing first one and then the other on the cheek before giving each a glass and turning to face the assembled company. Philippa had followed with two more glasses, and pressed one into her son's hand before taking a place at his side.
"Dear friends and family," Adam said quietly, "I ask you to lift your glasses in honor of my father-in-law, Alan David Lockhart. Though we met in person only a few days ago, I have come to know and love him in the brief time we spent together, preparing for this day - not only because of the love I bear his daughter, but for his own sake. Men like Alan Lock-hart come along all too seldom in this world.
"I salute him, then, as a man of stainless integrity. I honor him for his example of peerless courage. And on this most holy night especially, I thank him for entrusting me with his beloved Ximena, who has become my wife. With my fondest good wishes and, I am sure, with the love of all present, I offer this toast: To Alan - May flights of angels sing him to his rest, and may his memory live forever in our hearts." "To Alan!" Philippa responded.