When the flower girls and the ring bearer reached point A, Mitzi sent them down the aisle. The guests responded with a collective “Aww.” Then the grand notes of the wedding march began and Amanda and her father swept into the sanctuary.
Holly found a spot in the far corner of the foyer where she could listen and watch the ceremony unobtrusively through a window. If the choir loft came crashing down she’d be squashed like a bug.
Ah, weddings. She loved them. She really loved them. Weddings were magnificent declarations of all that was good in this life. Loyalty. Honor. Love. Esteeming another above yourself. Weddings never failed to stir her or arouse in her a bittersweet wistfulness born of her own hope of marrying one day.
When Amanda and Ben exchanged vows, Holly sighed and went a little teary-eyed. Or maybe she was going teary-eyed over Josh, standing so solidly next to Ben. The best man. Indeed.
One of the candles in the unity candle set was slow to light. And the maid of honor almost bobbled Amanda’s bouquet at one point. But those were the little things that made weddings charming and real. Everything else went perfectly.
When the ceremony concluded, Holly dashed around like a runner on a steeplechase course, making sure that the flower girls and ring bearer were all returned to their rightful owners. Then Mitzi trapped her and fired a dozen staccato questions at her regarding parking issues and when the decor could be taken down.
After Mitzi departed, Holly looked around and saw that the entire church had emptied faster than a glass bottle of Dr Pepper. She hadn’t caught even a glimpse of Josh since he’d walked down the aisle during the recessional with the maid of honor on his arm.
She let herself into the sanctuary and trailed her fingers along the long swags of ribbon, the glass hurricanes confining candles that had already been blown out, the sprays of flowers mounted on the inside ends of the pews. She took a seat on the very first row.
She needed to rally herself, go home, get cleaned up, then make an appearance at the reception. She’d sent in a response card saying she’d attend. Far more critically, the reception would be her last chance to see Josh.
She’d rally. She would. But the day had drained her physically and emotionally, and she needed a minute to sit and take in the hushed calm of her surroundings.
One of the decorators had brought in a towering wrought iron arch that stood on the dais in front of the altar. A garland of large waxy leaves, twigs, and the same flowers that had graced Amanda’s bouquet covered the entire arch and even rippled a few feet onto the dais on either side. Lovely.
During the ceremony, the arch had served as a picturesque frame for Ben and Amanda. But it hadn’t framed only them. On its far side, it also framed the altar. As Holly studied the altar, light gleamed and slid along one plane of the cross.
When she’d parted from Josh eight years ago, God had remained. He’d been at her side through her hardest moments, her saddest moments, her loneliest.
Whatever comes, I trust you, God. If your plans for me don’t include Josh or don’t include marriage, then I’ll keep on trusting you. The silence of her aloneness settled over her like pixie dust. She couldn’t stop herself from adding a short p.s. to her prayer. If Josh does happen to . . . perhaps, maybe, please . . . be the one for me, then I pray that you’ll give me just one more opportunity with him.
The side exit door whooshed open and Holly snapped her head to the side to see Josh standing in the opening, backlit by a late November sky. His dark gaze cut across the space and locked onto her.
Her pulse leapt then began to pound. What could he be doing here? He was the best man. He was needed at the reception.
He walked toward her. “I was looking for you. Out in the parking lot, and then on the road to the winery. I couldn’t find you.”
“I’m not,” she motioned to her clothing as she pressed to her feet, “dressed for the reception yet.”
His brows drew down. He appeared both determined and unsettled, standing there, sleek in his gorgeous tuxedo. “I’ve been looking for you a lot lately, Holly. All day today. Last night at the rehearsal dinner. Just now. I . . .” His hair was slightly mussed. His eyes bright with fervency. “I realized that I’ve been looking for you for years. I’ve been looking for you ever since I left Martinsburg.”
Hope rose within her painfully. What? Had he . . . had he really just said that?
He continued, recklessly honest. “I don’t want to spend the rest of my life looking for you.”
“You don’t?” Her voice emerged as fragile as a skein of silk.
“No. I don’t want to make a fool of myself in front of you, either.” He raked a hand through his hair. “I’ve been telling myself to keep my mouth shut around you until I leave Texas. But I’m not going to make it.” His lips settled into a hard, resolute line. “I’d rather make a fool of myself than remain silent.”
She gaped at him in patent astonishment.