It was a small wedding. Money was hard to come by then—the war had taken it from those who had it, and taken the lives of those who didn’t. Bill’s family never had money to begin with and Elizabeth’s parents, who fancied themselves as society people, had married four daughters before her and now had little left other than their good name. As maid of honor, I’d been the first one to walk down the aisle. I’d smiled at the guests, the floor, the flowers—everywhere but at Bill. But when I reached the altar, I had to steal a look. His stance was relaxed, his smile traveled all the way to his eyes, and there wasn’t a trace of nerves. This wasn’t a man having second thoughts.
It was Elizabeth who’d spent the morning in a state of pre-wedding jitters: tense, teary, quiet. But when she appeared in the church’s double doorway, her nerves were nowhere to be seen. Everything sparkled—her eyes, her smile, the antique jeweled comb in her hair. She’d decided to wear her hair out, a last-minute decision that her mother had fought, calling it “common,” but Elizabeth had stuck to her guns, and no one could argue with her now. With it flowing over the capped sleeves of her A-line gown, she was as whimsical and delicate as the peonies she carried.
Elizabeth and Bill were to spend the wedding night in the town’s hotel, before moving to Bill’s house in Kings Langley. According to Elizabeth, it was nothing but a humble cottage, but she didn’t mind. What Bill lacked in money, he made up for in charm. And charm, we all agreed, was something he had in spades.
“I want to thank you all for coming tonight,” he’d said when he opened his speech. “It’s humbling for a man such as myself to be in the presence of you fine folk, and even more so to have married into a family such as the O’Hallorans. Most humbling of all”—he smiled at Elizabeth—“is to be standing here as the husband of this beautiful creature. I won’t pretend to be anything more than I am—the son of a farmer who spent a few years in the service. A lot less than Elizabeth deserves. But I promise that I will work hard every day of the rest of my life to make myself worthy.”
The room came apart at the seams. What a delightful young man! Isn’t Elizabeth lucky? Many of the guests were in tears. I also shed a tear, though perhaps for different reasons.
The bridal waltz followed, then all the dances after that. Father–daughter, mother–son, in-laws, bridesmaids. Bill and Elizabeth swept around the floor, gazing at each other, as indeed they should have been. Evie and her new beau, Jack, pressed up against each other like a pair of magnets. Meanwhile, I took my maid of honor duties seriously, powdering Elizabeth’s nose, keeping her quarrelling aunts apart, dancing with the best man. As the event drew to a close, I helped Elizabeth’s parents pack up the hall. As I bundled the last of the gifts into Elizabeth’s father’s car, two fingers tapped impatiently against my shoulder.
“Does the groom get a dance with the maid of honor?”
I slammed the trunk and turned around. Bill was glassy eyed, his top three buttons undone and his bow tie hanging open. He gave me a cheeky grin.
I consulted an imaginary piece of paper that I pulled from an imaginary pocket. “I don’t see it on the run sheet, I’m afraid.”
He moved in closer beside me and I caught a whiff of the carnation in his pocket. He looked at my pretend run sheet. “Are you sure? I think I see it—” He pointed a finger in the air. “—right here.”
“I think you’re seeing things. Elizabeth is about to throw the bouquet. We’d best get inside.”
“Are you hoping to catch it?” he asked.
“No. Evie should be the one tonight.”
“And why, may I ask, not you?”
I looked at my feet. I worried that if I looked directly at Bill, I might not be able to look away. Ever. “Well … she and Jack have been dating for months, and I—I don’t have a lad.”
“Well, then…,” Bill said, “how about that dance?”
I scanned the space around us. A few guests hovered by their cars, saying good-byes. “I really don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Bill opened his arms in a waltz stance. He grasped my right hand in his left and pointed them at the sky. “Bill,” I said. “We really should get back to Elizabeth.”
I heard a car engine, then watched as the small group who’d been hovering outside drove away. Bill looked from the car to me and waggled his eyebrows. “All alone.”
He pulled me a little closer. Our bellies pressed together. My heart started to race, and I had no idea if that was good, or bad.
“Elizabeth has had my attention all day,” he said into my ear. At the same time, he moved his right hand a fraction lower. “And you, not having a lad and all, are in need of a bit of attention, I’d say.”