Chapter Thirty-Five
Three years later
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.
“A hundred percent?”
“A hundred and fifty.”
“Last chance to back out…”
Evelyn stepped between them. “Would you please go away? I have bridal prep to do here.” She shooed Ross from the room, breaking up the banter, then turned to Elle, who perched on a chair in front of the mirror, trying not to hyperventilate.
“Here, drink this.” Evelyn put half a glass of stout beer in front of her. Elle picked it up, sipped then put it back down.
“I can’t. I’m too nervous.”
“It’s pretty simple, really.”
“I know. It’s just… I want him to be certain, you know? He jokes with me all the time about letting me back out or whatever but I’m afraid he’s the one who wants that.”
Evelyn perched on the arm of the chair in the guest bedroom of Trent and Melody’s lake house. Somewhere beyond the door a baby let out a squawk, then quieted. She took Elle’s ice-cold hands in hers. “Elle, if Ross Hoffman were more in love with you I don’t think he could get up every morning and function. He’d be laid out by it, crippled, and unable to move much less run that amazing restaurant with you.”
“I know, I know.” Elle patted her hair. She’d cut the dreadlocks shorter, but they still hung to her shoulders. For today, she them pinned up on her head, fixed in place with a comb that served as the bridal veil. “It’s why I made him wait this long, you know. To actually get married. I needed proof, I guess.”
“Well, now you have it. He worships the ground you walk on, woman. If I were the jealous type and not already blissfully in love with my husband, I’d be green with envy.” She smiled and brushed Elle’s forehead with her lips. “Now, let’s do this thing, shall we?” Evelyn winced and put her hand to her back.
“Baby kicking?” Elle asked.
“Nonstop,” Evelyn said with a smile. “Come on, before you change your mind.”
Elle nodded, and rose. She had on cream colored, pure silk sheath, unadorned and simple, ideal for her figure and skin tone. For her flowers, she’d chosen a spray of edelweiss. Taylor was her maid of honor. Evelyn and Melody her attendants.
She paused at the top of the long flight of steps from the deck down to the grass where nearly two hundred people were standing and looking up at her. She scanned the crowd and saw familiar, smiling faces, including her brothers’ wives and their kids, even old Doctor Joseph, who was waving at her. She smiled and waved back.
Her attendants took their places then Eric marched down the aisle in a pair of khakis and a crisp white shirt, open at the neck, with a red rosebud pinned to it, matching the men. He stood in front of Ross, their rings on a satin pillow held tight in his hands. Her brothers and Austin flanked Ross, who stood, his hands behind his back, his smile for her and her alone. He also wore khakis and a white shirt, but his boutonniere was a tiny clump of edelweiss, matching her bouquet.
The music, performed by a string quartet and harp, set up under a white tent near the temporary altar, changed. She took a breath, and started down the steps, gripping her bouquet in one hand to the strains of Pachelbel. When she reached the last step, something latched on to her legs. She reached down and picked up the girl, decked out in a fancy white dress that was already stained with something that looked like strawberry ice cream. “Mama, why cry?” The girl patted her cheeks, trying to wipe away the tears.
“Mama is happy,” she whispered in German to the girl. “Liesl, why aren’t you down there with Taylor, where you’re supposed to be? Where is your flower basket?”
“I wanted to walk with you, to see Papa.” The little girl’s German was as flawless as her English. “Please, Mama. I don’t like it down there without you.”
“All right, my darling.” She patted her back.
Taylor shrugged and mouthed, “Sorry.”
Elisa smiled at her, then put Liesl on the ground and took her hand. The music was still playing, the song with the heart-beat like cadence that she had always loved.
“Walk with me, baby girl.”
“Okay, Mama,” the child said, beaming up at her with Ross’ dark blue eyes, through a nearly uncontrollable mass of ash blonde curls. Elle brushed her hair out of her face, then straightened again and met Ross’ eyes. His grin widened. If ever a man was more wrapped around a child’s finger from the moment of her birth, she never knew one.
“Papa is waiting for us. He told me to tell you to hurry up!” Liesl whispered loud enough for the back rows to titter with amusement.
“Yes, my love, I know that. Just give Mama a moment to enjoy this.”
“Oh. Okay.” They waited. Ross frowned at her, then shrugged and pretended to walk away. Austin put a hand on his arm. She started walking toward him, never more conscious of the importance of this day, three years past her trial, two and a half years since the birth of their first child, two since opening the hottest new restaurant in the Midwest.
They’d chosen an old theater in the rapidly reviving Detroit to renovate. And now, thanks to Trent, Melody, Caroline, and of course, her beloved, her hero, the man who drove her mad with frustration and equally mad with lust, they were, by any standards, a huge success. Elle had been adamant that she be allowed to hire women newly released from prison, and that program had also been so key to their success.
They lived within walking distance of their business, in a huge loft, overlooking the Detroit River, had two smelly dogs, who were currently splashing around in the lake behind the ceremony, and their Leisl—born a terrifying seven weeks too early but was now happy and healthy.
She stopped and let go of her daughter’s hand. The girl ran to Taylor, as if conscious of the moment between her parents. Ross held out his arm. She took it and they faced the officiant. As the music faded, she leaned into him, going up on her tiptoes so she could whisper something in his ear.
“It’s about time,” he said in German. “We’re never going to get to five Hoffmans if you don’t pick up the pace a little.” He put a hand on her slightly rounded stomach. “I knew it already. I could tell from your taste.”
She smacked his arm. The crowd laughed. The officiant cleared his throat. “Shall we?”
“By all means, hurry up though, because I just found out my princess over there is getting a baby brother.”
Liesl squealed and started jumping up and down. Elle sighed. “Sorry,” she said to the man standing in front of them. “He’s a real mouth-breathing idiot sometimes.”
Ross turned her and kissed her hard, bending her back and making everyone clap and catcall. He let her go, smiling that smile that reminded her how lucky she was every single time she saw it.
“That was out of order,” she insisted, straightening back up and handing her bouquet to Taylor who gave it to Leisl.
“I know. Just practicing.”
“Get on with it, please.” Elle focused her attention on the man in front of them, her natural nervousness about the extreme level of her current happiness fading, finally.
“Yeah, hurry up, Rev, before she changes her mind.” His deep blue eyes shone as he gazed at her. “Du bist die Liebe meines Lebens.”
Elisa nodded at him, her eyes swimming with tears. “I know,” she said in English.