“And you’ll make sure that Nelly tells you?”
As often, the skipper had a good point. “Also have him call you on net. So, you see, you’re all invited to the wedding, but we can’t let the other ships in the fleet know what’s going on. Certainly not the Monarch.”
“Mum’s the word. Oh, I’m going to send down the emergency medical team anyway. They’re ready to go, and if we don’t send them, it would cause talk.”
“Okay,” Kris said, “heaven knows there were enough old folks at the reception that they ought to be able to keep the docs busy for a week.”
“What time’s the wedding?”
“In four hours if I can pull it off.”
“We’ll be there, Kris. Don’t you go walking down any aisle before we get there.”
“I don’t even have a wedding dress. I’m having a hard time believing that even Granny Rita can pull this all off in four hours.”
“Well, you left here in dress whites. Oh, was Jack in dress red and blues?”
“Yes, he is,” Kris said.
“Good. I don’t have to find a uniform for him. Bye, dear, have fun, I hear there’s nothing quite as joyful as wedding prep.”
“Good-bye, Captain Drago,” Kris said dryly to his lie.
This wedding was not to be a simple elopement. It seemed that every two or three months there was a wedding; one of Granny Rita’s great-grandkids or godchildren or just someone from the crew that wanted his latest descendant married by the old skipper.
For example, the ring bearer, a lad of five, had admirably performed that service three times in the last six months. Each time with more and more proficiency and less and less hijinks.
He was eager to do it again. Of course, his dress pants were tight and very high up his legs, but his mother assured Kris she had socks just as black as the pants. The cute little coat proved totally unusable. The shirt and tie would do if the top button was left undone.
Kris was offered two choices: break in a new five-year-old and break this one’s heart, or go with the boy who pleaded so artfully for the chance, even if he was the very advertisement for back-to-school shopping.
Kris let the boy do it again. After all, Rita said all the couples he’d handled the ring for were still happily married. That was more than she could claim.
Kris checked with Nelly. Only three and three-quarters of an hour of marriage preparations left. How could women stand months of this?
The three flower girls also turned out to be a bit long in the tooth and short on the hemline. All of eight, all experienced, all pleading for just one more chance to walk down the aisle strewing flowers. Oh, and they knew where to get the best flowers and how to convert them to petals themselves.
Kris assented, wondering just how short their dresses would be when they showed up.
That brought Kris to her own choice of wedding dress. She was not getting married in uniform. Not her.
Three dresses were readily at hand. The first bride had been petite, a tiny slip of a thing. They held the dress up to Kris and put it back in the protective bag.
The second bride had been pregnant at the time. It was a bit longer, but it had space in all the places Kris didn’t need. Back into the box for that one, too.
The third bride had all the curves Kris dreamed off. All of them and then some. She was taller than the other two. With help, Kris managed to settle the dress around her shoulders and watch as it fell . . . to well above her knees. The waist was a bit tight, but she could give up deep breaths for a few hours. The bust was . . . way too busty.
“We can handle that with a few stitches,” a woman with needle already in hand said. Kris held her breath as the woman began to sew Kris into the dress.
In her dreams, Kris had a wonderfully long train. This dress didn’t get near the floor, much less trail along nicely. But, on reflection, considering the wedding dress Mother had been eyeing the last time she and Kris had met in a bridal shop, this wasn’t at all bad.
She was getting married to Jack. She was doing it without violating Navy regs. Minor things like trains she could just do without.
They did, however, have a veil for her. White and lacy, it had been hand sewn for Granny Rita’s last wedding and used at more weddings since then than anyone had bothered to count. It covered Kris and even managed to trail a bit below the hem.
Someone found a white pair of shoes that didn’t hurt too much, especially if she didn’t put them on until she walked down the aisle. Kris was ready a whole thirty minutes early.
“Nelly, any word from the Wasp’s comm center?”
“No, Kris, and I’ve been doing some snooping. The lawyers are still debating three phrases, and the king is having a ball talking to twenty-seven eager young men and women. He’s telling tales that would curdle your blood and are, based upon our analysis with Ron the Iteeche, most likely untrue. Still, he’s laughing, they’re enjoying being scared, and no one is pushing the lawyers to finish up their work, so they’re arguing to their little hearts’ content. I don’t have a cent to bet, but if I did, I’d say you’re gonna pull this off. By the way, should I try to locate anyone to walk you down the aisle?”
Kris had been giving the matter some thought in her immense spare time. Her father and Grampa Trouble were all the way on the other side of the galaxy. To ask King Ray to do the honor that was rightfully his as the senior male member of her family present would give the whole thing away and likely end any prospect for a wedding.
Captain Drago had come to mind, but he was about to become her subordinate. Nope, Kris Longknife had to face it, there was just no one to give her away but herself.
And that wasn’t a bad idea. Not a bad idea at all.
“No, Nelly. No need to search for anyone.”
Government House had proven too small for the royal reception. There was, however, a large adobe church that had been built by the community shortly after they landed. Every Sunday it was shared by the Catholics and Protestants. Saturday it held temple, and Friday the Moslems met for prayer. A small Buddhist community even managed to find a place in the building’s busy schedule as did an Atheists’ Wednesday Potluck. There now were separate buildings for most of the different faith expressions, but they still put the Chapel of Thanksgiving to use.
And it was often used for weddings.
They’d reserved it for Kris.
She found herself standing in a small room off the foyer with Penny and Abby, her two bridesmaids. After careful evaluation of the options, it was agreed that both of them were maids of honor. Kris had no idea who was standing up with Jack.
This wedding was open to a lot of surprises.
The first of several was when the Wasp’s crew marched in, in formation and all in dress blues uniforms. Kris finally got to see what rank they had earned before they signed on with her contract crew.
No surprise, Captain Drago had lied. He had sewn on his rear admiral’s stripes and been chained to that desk before he slipped loose and took off with the Wasp.
Kris didn’t know which was the biggest surprise from Cookie. He wore a full admiral’s uniform with the wide stripe and three thinner stripes climbing up his arm. And the uniform fit him. Apparently, he’d been liking his own cooking for a long time.
There was Kris’s crew, admirals and captains, finally showing their true colors as they came to celebrate her wedding. Every one of her enlisted types were senior chiefs. Many were command master chiefs. As much as Kris hated Crossie, he had gotten her the cream of the crop.
And all of these officers had accepted demotions to lieutenants so they could fight under her command.
Brides were permitted to cry. It was a good rule, that. Kris’s eyes were tearing up. Abby produced a tissue. “There’s more where that came from.”