We got married on the shores of Lake Loch. Right in our backyard to be exact. Our guests stood in the grass; mine and Eddie’s feet were in the water.
Some probably thought we were insane to make the lake such a big part of our day. A lake that caused so much pain and turmoil. A lake that nearly robbed us of our happily ever after more than once.
But what they didn’t understand…
The lake also brought us together.
Lake Lochlain was in many ways the catalyst for the wedding we stood at today.
Of course, some think the lake wasn’t any of these things. It was just a lake, just a body of water with no real spirit or character. I knew better than most this was the furthest from the truth.
I could have drowned that night I jumped from the hunting stand. I was almost plucked from the depths by a madman who refused to let me go.
But I was protected.
Carried away by the waves, concealed beneath the murky depths.
And though I couldn’t remember, I understood at times I’d been cradled by the water until Eddie pulled me to safety.
Sometimes when I stood on the shores and gazed out over the ever-changing current (that somehow always felt the same), I wondered if the water that surrounded my prison for many years was the very thing that set me free.
The doctors say my amnesia stemmed from trauma. My therapist told me it was my mind’s way of protecting me. So many logical, sensible conclusions to explain why I couldn’t remember much about my past.
I had a reason of my own, however. One that wasn’t so scientific. One that would probably get me more time with the head shrink if I ever voiced the theory.
The lake.
Somehow, Lake Loch washed away everything in my past. I knew even without seeing, all my memories, my old identity, and where I came from lay at the bottom of the water. Down in its deepest depths among the largest rocks, the laziest of fish, and perhaps even the Loch Ness herself.
I was just another secret the lake would likely never give up.
And I was okay with that.
The lake could have my past. In trade, I got a future.
I was given amnesty.
Freedom.
There were remnants from before, fragments of clarity the lake showed me. They were horrible and partly unwanted, but not unnecessary.
I wouldn’t understand the true gift of amnesty if everything remained forgotten.
So there we stood on the shore by the water, which on the day of our wedding was calm and peaceful. The surface so smooth it looked like glass and reflected the beautiful Maine landscape like a mirror. The early spring day was cold, but all I felt was the sun’s rays shining down upon us.
As we said our vows, as I pledged to love him forever—for richer or poorer, in memory and amnesia, even after death—I looked across the water at the island and smiled.
“For the first time,” the minister announced, “the beginning of a new life together—”
“A new era.” Eddie cut in, reaching out to palm my softly rounding belly with his oversized hand.
A tiny flutter erupted within me, but it wasn’t butterflies, not today. Today it was the stirring of our yet-to-be-born child.
(PS: That’s what happens when you’re so in love you never once think about birth control.)
(PSS: Sometimes not thinking—not knowing—results in something wonderful.)
People on the grass chuckled. I covered my new husband’s hand with mine. “A new era.” I agreed.
The minister inclined his head and smiled. “May I introduce, officially, Mr. Eddie Donovan and his wife, Mrs. Amn—”
Both Eddie and I glanced up, wondering if he would remember.
“Mrs. Amnesty Donovan.”
Turns out Amnesia wasn’t a good fit for me anymore. I was no longer a “complete memory wipe.” I was full.
So incredibly full, and that in itself was my freedom.
I smiled so wide, but it was short lived because Eddie dragged me up against him and crushed his mouth over mine.
Water rushed up to our ankles, Lake Loch granting us approval. People clapped, and the cold spring breeze blew.
Behind us, the minister cleared his throat. We broke the kiss.
Eddie grabbed my hand and we turned, backs toward Rumor Island, facing forward to our lake home, our family, and our friends.
I looked first at Maggie, who was crying happy tears. She blew me a kiss, and I smiled.
Forgoing the tradition of turning around, I lifted the white bouquet of roses I held and tossed it right at Mary Beth. Her eyes widened when it fell into her arms, and I winked. I was totally betting on her and Robbie.
With one hand in Eddie’s and another on the child we created, we walked out of the water and into the waiting crowd.
“Just wait until you see the cake I made,” Joline said, rushing to our side. “It’s the best thing I’ve ever done.”
“I’m sure it is,” I told her sincerely.
Jeremy stepped up behind her. “Good Lord, woman, leave them to bask in their wedded glow. The cake can wait.” Joline gave him the evil eye, and he patted Eddie on the shoulder. “Enjoy that glow while it lasts.”
Eddie turned to me, sweeping me into his chest. “I think it’s never going to fade away.”
Our kiss transported me to a place where we were the only two on the shore. No one else was within earshot, cake the furthest thing from my mind.
“Congratulations, sweetheart!” Maggie said, cutting into the happy bubble.
We broke apart again, reality rushing back as we were surrounded by Eddie’s parents and the only mother I would ever know.
I hugged her tightly. “Thank you for everything. I love you so much.” I drew in a deep breath. “Mom.”
Her arms tightened around me. When she pulled back, tears streamed down her face. “You better get back. I’m going to cry all over that dress.”
“I wouldn’t mind.”
“Come on, missus,” Eddie said, taking me by the hand again. “I have a feeling if we don’t go see the cake and all the catering Joline and Maple’s restaurant did, we might be barred from our own reception.”
“I like the sound of that,” I told him.
“Being barred from our own wedding cake?” he puzzled.
“Missus,” I corrected. “Being your missus.”
Both dimples appeared and his azure eyes sparkled with the wolfish smile that transformed his face. “Good, because it’s permanent.”
We started following along behind the guests as they walked toward a large white tent erected right there on our lawn. Eddie paused, glancing back over his shoulder, eyes sweeping the lake and the island in the distance.
“You’re thinking about her,” I observed, understanding completely.
His eyes came back to mine, a little dimmer than before. “I just wish she was able to be as happy as we are. That she’d been granted some sort of…” His voice faded away as he searched for the right word.
“Amnesty?” I finished for him.
“Yeah, maybe.” He agreed.
“Sadie will find her freedom.” I promised. I didn’t feel bad for it either, because I knew deep down inside me it was true. “She’s getting all the help she needs now. It’s going to take a while. Her memories and experiences will always be there. But she’s a survivor. Widow West, on the other hand... I have a feeling she’s probably going to spend the rest of her life in an institution. There’s no saving her. But Sadie, she’s going to find her happily ever after just like you did.”
Eddie’s arms slipped around me. Between us, my rounded belly brushed against his middle. “Like we did.”
I nodded.
“I love you,” he vowed, his lips brushing against mine as he spoke.
“Cross my heart,” I whispered, delving my fingers into the dark, wild curls on his head. “Hope to die.”
He smiled, pressing his forehead against mine. “You will be forever mine.”
And I was.