“Thanks.”
The ring bearer was getting fidgety. He had two rings to take care of. Granny Rita had given Kris a copper ring to give to Jack, the norm for a colonial wedding. If there was gold in any of them there hills, no one had had time to go hunting for it.
Jack, however, had tied a gold ring on the kid’s tiny white pillow.
“Where did that come from?” Kris asked.
“I bought it at the exchange on HellFrozeOver,” he said. “It was my pledge to you and myself that I was going to find you, and someday, even if hell did freeze over, I was going to put it on your finger.”
Yes, brides were permitted to cry. A day like this just had too much joy to stay locked up even in a Longknife’s soul.
An organ, hand built over the last eighty years, began to play.
“That’s my song,” the ring bearer announced, and began his slow walk down the aisle.
The flower girls, all in dresses way too short, went next, in single column, carefully tossing just a few flower petals each time they reached in and grabbed a fistful. They also had the two step down just right. Right step forward, then bring up the left foot. Left step forward, then bring up the right foot.
They were all doing it in perfect cadence to the music.
With a look back at Kris, Abby, then Penny followed the kids down the aisle.
Kris was finally alone.
“Nelly, anything?”
“Not a word, Kris, I swear. The lawyers are still yammering. Grampa Ray has taken the kids to dinner, and he’s still spinning wild tales. Crossie is up to something, but he’s got it in a single-use code that I might crack in a month if I concentrated on it. You are good to go, and speaking of go, I think that’s your music.”
Kris took a deep breath, which strained the dress, set a smile on her face, not too friendly, not too standoffish, not too much teeth, the thing her mother had had her practice in front of a mirror when she was thirteen, and stepped off.
The temptation to race down the aisle was there, but the kids were doing so well, and Abby and Penny were staying strung out just right that Kris settled into the two step easily. After all, she’d practiced it a lot as a maid of honor.
The colonists had let the Navy have the first three pews in front, which meant Kris was met with a solid wall of grins and smiles and applause by the colonials as she started the long walk.
And Mother’s practiced smile went out the door.
Kris found a smile that was all her own. One that showed all the joy she could not hold inside for a moment more. Sometimes it was as wide open as the sky, other times it retreated back to just an enigmatic thing, but full of happiness.
Then she saw Jack.
He was standing beside Granny Rita with Gunny Brown and Captain Hayakawa, the skipper of the Imperial Marine company.
As happened so often, Jack was in his dress blue and reds. Kris had seen him in them time after time, but not like he looked today. Was it the way he stood, eagerly leaning forward to get a better look at her, or the big smile that he didn’t even try to hide?
Kris thought she’d been smiling before, but she found a whole new smile for Jack at that moment.
The walk down the aisle seemed to fly by yet take forever, but she was finally there, in front of the altar, with Granny Rita wearing some kind of black robe with a white shawl or stole or whatever the preachers called that thing they wore.
Jack offered her his hand and she took it, leaned on it, and felt wonderful.
Penny and Abby lifted back Kris’s veil, as if Jack didn’t already know exactly who it was coming his way, and they turned to face Granny Rita.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join these two in Holy Matrimony. Those of you who haven’t slept through all my weddings that you’ve attended no doubt know that I have some serious thoughts on marriage and tend to share them at length.”
That drew chuckle from the colonials.
“However, as those of you who are my old shipmates may remember, Navies have rules against things called fraternization, and we are met this afternoon in a small window between when these fine folks are just fellow pilgrims in uniform and when one of them is going to be handed the unenviable job of being commander of a whole lot of people, not the least of which is the person standing next to her.
“Thus, I’m going to skip a whole lot of advice and assume that during the last five years of these two fussing and fighting together, they’ve got a pretty good idea of what half of marriage is all about.”
The chuckles to that one came strongest from the Navy pews.
“So, I’m going to jump right to that part where I ask if there is anyone present who knows of any reason these two should not be joined in Holy Matrimony? Let them speak now or forever hold their peace.”
NELLY?
NOTHING.
Still, Kris glanced over her shoulder. Captain Drago tapped his ear and shook his head. No message traffic.
YOU DON’T TRUST ME.
ON THIS, NELLY, I CAN’T. YOU LOVE ME TOO MUCH.
No surprise, the church was as quiet as it could be.
“That cleared up, Kristine Anne Longknife, do you take Juan Francisco Montoya to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold him, in sickness and in health, in good times and bad, leaving all others and cleaving only to him? To honor and respect him so long as you both shall live?”
“I do,” Kris found she could barely whisper through a suddenly dry throat.
“Juan Francisco Montoya, do you take Kristine Anne Longknife as your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold her, in sickness and in health, in good times and bad, leaving all others and cleaving only to her? To honor and respect her so long as you both shall live?”
“I do,” rang out in a voice that could be heard across a battlefield.
“Do you have rings?”
The five-year-old proudly lifted his pillow above his head so Jack could easily take the ring of gold for Kris. He slipped it over her finger and, smiling, said, “With this ring, I thee wed.”
Kris quickly did the same with her simple copper ring. “With this ring, I thee wed.”
Granny Rita took over again. “Then, by the powers invested in me by the colonists of Alwa, for no reason I can imagine, I pronounce you man and wife. Folks, it’s traditional to give each other a kiss.” Then in a lower voice she added, “And don’t make it a peck, either or I’ll think I wasted that beach cottage reservation.”
Jack took Kris in his arms and kissed her. Really kissed her. Kissed her enough to satisfy even Granny Rita.
Kris went weak in the knees. She found her back bending and Jack’s powerful arms around her as her only support.
One of the flower girls was heard to say, in one of those small voices that eight-year-olds have that can fill a huge church, “Get a room.”
Jack broke from the kiss and helped Kris get settled back on her feet. His grin was pure joy. Well, maybe a lot joy with a bit of possession thrown in. That guy kind of thing that says to the world, “Look at the woman who’s made herself mine.”
Kris was saved from having to begin the march back down the aisle on wobbly knees by the Navy contingent. The officers filed out of their pews and slow-marched for the door.
Crossed sabers, Kris thought as Nelly said it. AN ANCIENT NAVY TRADITION, Nelly added.
A wise old chief had once asked a young ensign Kris if she were Navy or just passing through. Now, a commodore and walking under crossed sabers on her wedding day, Kris didn’t feel like she could get much more Navy than this.
The officers gone, Kris and Jack started down the aisle. Kris was now leading the procession rather than following it. Her progress was slow. There were lots of hands to shake. This afternoon she did so gingerly, just a touch. Some of the older women offered Kris a cheek and Kris gave out a lot of pecks, nothing like what Jack had given her. Beside her, Jack was showing that he knew how to peck a cheek as well.