“No! Celeste, this way! I’m here, chère!” He turned, pushed past the nurse and forced his way to the bed. Then he did something he’d never done before; he brought his hands to her face, and touched the woman he loved, tenderly stroking his own tears from her cheeks. “Don’t leave me, chère.”
“I’m sorry, but you have to leave,” the nurse repeated sternly as she reached for Dax and attempted to pull him away.
Dax glared at the woman. “I can’t leave her now. I won’t.”
“Dax.”
The voice was barely audible, but Dax heard it, recognized it. He turned sharply and saw the doctor staring disbelievingly at the woman in the bed, her eyes opened and peering…at Dax.
“Do-it again,” she said softly.
“Oh, my God,” the nurse beside Dax exclaimed.
His tears fell again, but these were tears of joy. She was back. Here. With him. And the beating of her heart, growing stronger with every second, said she’d stay here this time.
“Do what again, chère?”
She licked her lips, then whispered, “Touch.”
His laughter rolled out, and he leaned over her, cradled her face within his hands and smiled.
“Go get her family,” the doctor instructed the nurses. “They’ll want to see this.” He shook his head. “Ms. Beauchamp, I’ve seen a few miracles in my time-it comes with the territory,” he added with a grin. “But this is one for the record books.” He looked at Dax. “And it reminds me of the power of love. I’m going to let you have your reunion now, but I’ll need to come back later for a few tests, not that I think we’re going to find anything wrong, since we were just basically waiting for you to wake up, my dear, but still…”
Celeste nodded slowly, her own tears falling now.
Her parents and sister ran in and embraced Celeste. “It’s a miracle!” Nelsa said, crying and laughing and touching Celeste in disbelief.
Her father, however, looked directly at Dax. “Thank you, son.”
Celeste stared up at him. “Yes, thank you.”
Dax was shocked by her eyes, which were the most vivid moss green. “They’re incredible,” he whispered.
Celeste smiled. “Thanks.” Then she turned to her family on the other side of the bed and saw their baffled expressions, but rather than explaining why Dax was surprised by the color of her eyes, Celeste gave them something else to process. “I love him.”
Three sets of eyes, also moss green, all widened and focused on Dax, who grinned as though he’d just been guaranteed happiness for life. And he had.
Her mother stroked her fingertips down Celeste’s cheeks, then she looked tearfully at Dax. “You brought our daughter back to us. I don’t know how we can ever repay you.”
“Say you’ll give us your blessing,” Dax said. “And we’ll call it even.”
“Our blessing?” her father asked.
“Yes, sir, because, if she says yes, I plan to marry your daughter.”
Celeste beamed, and Nelsa nodded approvingly. “Oh, you’re going to fit into this family perfectly,” she said. “We’re kind of big on romance and happily ever after. Dad asked Mom to marry him after their second date.”
“Technically, it was the third, if you count that trip to the fair,” Marian clarified, smiling at the memory. “And we’ve always wanted our daughters to have that kind of love.” She looked at Celeste. “I suppose you’d like for us to move back out to the hall for a spell so you and Dax can talk about something in private.”
Still smiling, Celeste nodded.
“Let’s go, David,” she said to her husband, then kissed Celeste’s cheek.
“Just so you know, if she says yes, then you’ve got our approval,” David Beauchamp said. He turned toward the bed, and though Dax didn’t see it, he felt certain that Celeste indicated what her answer would be because the man nodded before leaving with his family.
Dax waited for the door to close, then lowered one of the bed rails and sat beside Celeste. “Celeste Beauchamp,” he said, his heart thudding loudly, “Will you marry me?”
“Oh, Dax, yes.”
Then he kissed her gently, while his hands tenderly caressed her face, then eased over her body, touching her the way he’d only touched her in his dreams.
The heart monitor began to beat fiercely, her heart rate increasing in rapid proportions as they lengthened the kiss and she moaned her contentment.
“Um, oh!”
Dax broke the kiss and turned toward the nurse in the doorway.
“I’m s-sorry,” she stuttered, “but her heart rate was going up so quickly that I thought something might be wrong.” She giggled. “But I see now that nothing’s wrong at all.” She turned and left.
Celeste grinned. “How about a Christmas wedding?”
Christmas was just four weeks away, and Dax loved the idea wholeheartedly. He finally had Celeste, the woman he wanted more than life, and he didn’t want to waste any time in sharing his name, sharing his life, sharing his heritage. “A Christmas wedding would be perfect,” he said.
Her brows furrowed slightly, and she sighed regretfully. “You need to go help Ike now.”
“Ike?”
“A little-boy spirit, coming to see you. He said he’d wait, but he wants to see his parents,” she explained. “And he actually pushed me down the pathway to get me here,” she said with a smile. “Well, he and your grandmother.”
“They pushed you?”
She nodded. “The light was strong, and they knew I needed help.”
“I’ll make sure to thank Ike then. And I will go help him cross, but then I’ll come back to take you home.”
“Home,” she repeated. “To the plantation?”
“If that’s what you want.” He added, “You know that if you marry a Vicknair, you’ll also be expected to help spirits.”
Those beautiful moss green eyes were alive with excitement. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
19
CELESTE HAD BEEN in that hospital bed for four months, an extremely long time indeed. However, those four months seemed like nothing compared to the four weeks the two of them had to wait for their wedding.
Typical for Louisiana, the week of Christmas was marked with unseasonably warm weather, perfect for an outdoor event. Celeste’s mother had been doubtful when they told her they were going to be married outdoors on Christmas Eve at the Vicknair plantation, but after arriving in the bayou, Marian Beauchamp had quickly learned that December in Louisiana was like April in Tennessee.
The plantation was more breathtaking than Dax had ever seen, definitely the best that it’d been since the hurricane took its toll. Tiny white lights circled the eight porch columns and almost completely disguised the fact that they were still slightly leaning from Katrina’s damage. The same type of lights were also mingled through the poinsettia hedges to cast a red glow against the sides of the house.
Nanette had borrowed several huge white tents, traditionally used during the Mardi Gras festivities in February, from the high school, and guests were currently enjoying champagne beneath their curved roofs, also lit with tiny white lights. The mingling conversations had the same basic theme-the bride was radiant, the ceremony was beautiful and the Vicknair plantation was the perfect setting for such an incredible festivity. Everyone was impressed to see how far the cousins had come toward restoring the place to its original magnificence-except for the parish president, Charles Roussel, of course.
Although Dax tried to persuade Nanette to include John-Paul and Clara Vicknair’s letters with the nomination packet she sent to the state historic preservation officer, she’d refused, saying that if they absolutely had to bring the letters into the equation to save the house, then they would. But for now, they’d see what happened with the State Review Board, and they’d move on with the originally planned house renovations, which meant that, in a few weeks, they’d be starting on the structural problems. But Dax didn’t want to think about all the work ahead of them right now; this was his wedding day, after all.