We decided to have our ceremony in the majestic lush beauty of Sylvan Lake. The tall spires of the evergreens were our cathedral, the green grass our velvet carpet, the unusual granite boulders and hulking rock formations rising from the ground our silent witnesses. We made the effort and got there very early on a weekday morning to be able to have the secluded small spot we’d chosen to ourselves, and we were so glad we did.
Only the One-Eyed Jacks along with Rae and Tania attended. We arrived and a mist rolled over the still, sapphire water. The cool, crisp mountain air was laced with the almost butterscotch-like sweet fragrance of the ponderosa pine. At first, none of us spoke, taking in the perfect sacred hush. The colors of the morning bloomed over us, their tones and hues depending on the shifting shadows of the clouds and the strength of the sunlight. Pure magic.
Grace was my matron of honor, and Lock was Boner’s best man. Strolling up the aisle formed by Boner’s brothers, Tania held Becca by the hand, and they threw white rose petals on everyone.
My dress was a Bohemian-style piece that Lenore had made for me using a vintage dress she’d found. A plunging V-neckline, ruched chiffon bodice with hand-sewn corded lace appliqué, and a low back set off my assets. The skirt was made of antique-looking beige chiffon. Pearl-shaped buttons made a line down the back. My gown was ethereal, flowy, and oh-so comfortable in my progressed state of pregnancy.
As a gift, Grace had given me a thin pale-gold cashmere shrug to wear over my bare shoulders to keep me warm in the cool morning air. And I had made myself a special headpiece, a long chain dotted with tiny crystals that hung down the back of my long hair like a necklace. I felt like a fairy-tale princess in the woods.
My soon-to-be husband’s wide-eyed stare and parted lips confirmed that he liked what he saw as Lock walked me down the aisle. I could’ve sworn Lock’s arm was shaking just a little under mine.
Boner wore a vintage black tuxedo coat with tails over his colors and one of those body hugging V neck T-shirts I had gotten him. My dashing dark prince. When he took my one hand in both of his, he didn’t let go until after we’d said our vows and he put the white-gold wedding band we’d chosen together on my finger, and I put one on his. Our rings were made of two coiled snakes with a tiny skull at the center where the snake heads met. On my ring, a diamond dotted one eye of the skull.
The justice of the peace declared us legal. Husband and wife. Old man and old lady.
We kissed, and Boner whispered in my ear, “That bright life just came true, Firefly.”
I kissed him again.
Everyone cheered and small champagne bottles popped open. I had one quick sip and kissed my husband right away. I wanted to lock the warm taste of him and the crisp sweetness of the champagne—this very moment—in my heart and senses forever.
We made our way back to where everyone had parked their bikes and cars.
Boner stopped in his tracks, his arm tightening around me even more. I followed his line of sight.
“Holy wow!” I blurted.
Dig’s 1968 black Camaro gleamed in the sunlight. That Camaro had been his pride and joy from all accounts. After Dig had been killed, Boner had taken it, but he never took it out, never drove it, although he kept it secured at the club all these years.
Now, here she was, glossy beyond belief, full of attitude, slick bravado, and sexy swagger. Stealth in motion. Breathtaking.
Boner turned to Lock. “What did you do?” His voice heavy with emotion, censure, shock.
Lock’s huge dark eyes held his. Grace twisted her arms around one of Lock’s.
“It’s a beautiful piece, and it’s meant to be enjoyed, meant to be ridden. That’s what he bought it for,” Lock said. “I was with him when he found it. You would’ve thought he’d won the damn lottery. It was a piece of junk he could barely afford, but he had to have it. He took his time rebuilding it with Wreck, loved taking it out, loved how it felt in his hands. It made him laugh, made him roar. You were the only one he’d let drive it, apart from Wreck.”
“You stole the keys once and took it for a joyride, you little shit,” said Boner.
We laughed.
Lock grinned, his large hands jamming into the front pockets of his black jeans. The renegade teenager was still pleased with himself all these years later. “Yeah, I did. I didn’t even have my license yet, but that was how irresistible she was.” He glanced at the car and then back at Boner. “I wanted to make her irresistible for you. You wouldn’t let anyone touch her after he died.” He took in a breath, tilting his head, his lips pressing together for a moment. “It’s time you take her out, man. He would’ve wanted you to. He would’ve wanted you to laugh and roar behind that wheel, just like he did, like we did together.”
Lock took Grace’s hand in his and they stepped toward us. “She’s got a professionally built 454 CID engine, turbo transmission. Original bucket seats with upgraded interior. Fresh paint, subtle silver stripes around the nose and down the sides, hand-buffed.”
Silence, but for the wind kicking up in the tall trees soaring around us.