Chapter Four
Sunlight streamed through the stained-glass windows, dappling Quinn’s dress with vibrant reds, blues, yellows, and greens. She stood next to her father, Robert, one hand holding a bouquet of white roses and the other tucked in the crook of his arm. Mrs. Wilkerson, the church’s wedding coordinator and a cross between the Good Witch of the South and General Patton, quietly yet efficiently lined up the bridesmaids in front of Quinn. Bailey and Quinn’s nephews and ring bearers, Hunter and Wyatt, were positioned directly in front of her. While Bailey stood still, the cousins poked at each other with their satin pillows.
The strains of Bach’s “Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring” wafted through the open double doors leading into the sanctuary. Marie, escorted by Quinn’s brother George, disappeared through the doorway, and began their walk down the long center aisle.
In her life, Quinn’s heart had never pounded harder than it did at that moment. And that included the times she’d been shot at. She sucked a deep breath in through her nose and gusted the air out through parted lips.
Robert covered her hand at his elbow with his. “You okay, kiddo?” he asked in a quiet voice.
“Yeah. I’m just super nervous. All those people looking at me. What if I screw up?”
The music changed to the piece played at every wedding Quinn had ever been to, known to the world as “Pachelbel’s Canon.” Quinn and her father remained off to the side while the rest of the wedding party took their positions at the sanctuary’s entrance.
“So what if you do? What’s the worst that can happen?” her father asked.
Kelsey started down the aisle.
“People will laugh, I guess. I might throw up.”
Robert shook his head. “You’re not going to throw up. And so what if people chuckle a little? Something always goes haywire at a wedding.”
Stephanie entered the sanctuary.
“Great,” Quinn said. “I’m gonna end up on YouTube as ‘Epic Bridal Fail.’”
“Not necessarily. James might screw up and he’ll end up on YouTube.”
“Dad,” Quinn said with a smile and bumped him with her shoulder.
Mrs. Wilkerson sent Isabelle on her way. Only Nicole and the kids were left. It was almost time.
“Say something goes sideways,” Robert said. “When all is said and done, will you still be married?”
The question took her aback. In her fugue of nerves, she’d lost sight of what the wedding was all about. It wasn’t a show put on for the people inside the church. It was about her and James promising to spend the rest of their lives together. “Yeah, I will.”
Nicole stepped into the sanctuary and out of view.
“That’s all that matters, isn’t it?” Robert said and squeezed her hand.
“You’re right. It is.” Still, she hoped the ceremony would go okay.
Every concern flew out of her mind when five-year-old Hunter turned and sprinted toward her, leaving his cousins and the wedding coordinator behind. He slid to a stop in front of her and looked up. “Aunt Quinn, I gotta go potty.”
“Right now?” she asked, dangerously close to freaking out. She was supposed to be walking down the aisle in less than a minute. “You can’t hold it until after the ceremony?”
He hopped from foot to foot. “No.”
Mrs. Wilkerson hustled over. “Either he goes down the aisle right now or I take him to the bathroom after you go in. He’ll have to stay out here in the narthex with me during the ceremony.”
Hunter looked from Quinn to the wedding coordinator and back to his aunt. His eyes rounded with panic. “I don’t wanna do that.”
By now, Bailey and Wyatt had wandered over and joined the confab.
“You won’t have to,” Quinn said. “I’m not going anywhere until you get back.” She took the pillow from him and handed it to Bailey. To her father, she said, “Grandpa, can you take Hunter to the bathroom?”
“You bet.” He scooped the boy up and as he carried him off, said, “Come on, Marine. Let’s hit the head.”
Over the music coming from the sanctuary, Quinn could hear murmurs and rustling from the guests. She could imagine what everyone was thinking. To her surprise, rather than losing it, her nerves began to dissipate. Her wedding had glitched and it wasn’t the end of the world.
Four-year-old Wyatt looked horrified. “Aunt Quinn? Why is Grandpa gonna hit Hunter’s head?”
Quinn chuckled and squatted down to his and Bailey’s level. “He’s not going to hit Hunter’s head. It’s what sailors and Marines say when they use the bathroom.”
Bailey’s nose wrinkled while Wyatt stared hard at Quinn. Behind his brown eyes, she could practically see his brain churning on this new bit of information.
“I thought your mommies took you to the bathroom only a little while ago,” Quinn said.
Both children’s chins lowered, and guilty looks passed between them.
Quinn knew those looks. She’d been a part of many sibling conspiracies. “What?”
Wyatt dropped his gaze to the floor and dug the toe of his shoe into the carpet. “Hunter told us not to tell.”
“It’s okay,” Quinn said. She straightened his little bow tie. “I promise not to tell anyone else, except for Uncle James. He should get to know what the hold-up was, right? It’s his wedding, too.”
The solemnity on Bailey’s face had Quinn fighting off giggles when she looked up and said, “Hunter snuck another juice box after we all went potty, even though Mommy and Aunt Stephanie told us not to drink any more.”
“Ah.” Quinn glanced up at Mrs. Wilkerson, who was unsuccessfully biting back a smile. Looking at her niece and nephew again, she said, “Maybe from now on he’ll listen to his mommy.”
From the noises coming from the sanctuary, Quinn knew anxiety was continuing to build.
“Shall I announce the procession will resume in a few minutes?” Mrs. Wilkerson asked. “It’s better than leaving everyone wondering.”
Quinn peeked over her shoulder. There was still no sign of her dad and Hunter. “It is. Please do.”
Mrs. Wilkerson hurried off.
Between the return of Quinn’s jangling nerves and the contrite and morose looks on Bailey and Wyatt’s faces, she needed to lighten things up for all their sakes. “At least Hunter could tell us he had to go. Can you imagine what might have happened if we had Pot Roast be a ring bearer, too, like Great-Grandpa wanted?” Her grandfather had made the suggestion in jest, of course. Quinn had shot down the idea, saying she couldn’t take the chance of being upstaged by the slobbery, albeit adorable, English bulldog.
Bailey clapped her hand over her mouth and giggled. “If he had to go, he might have lifted his leg and tinkled on the end of a pew,” she said through her fingers.
Wyatt shrieked with laughter and hopped up and down. “Or pooped in the aisle!”
“Shhh!” Quinn said, laughing now, too. It was too late. From the snickers coming from inside the sanctuary, many had heard him. At least the little guy’s outburst had helped cut the tension.
Riding piggyback, Hunter bounced as Robert jogged toward them. Her father stopped, swung Hunter around, and set him on his feet. “We’re good to go.”
Quinn tucked the front of Hunter’s shirt in and smoothed a hand over the clump of hair sticking out on one side. “Ready?”
He nodded, and Bailey handed the pillow back to her cousin.
“Good. Go over to Mrs. Wilkerson and remember, no running down the aisle, okay?”
Three heads bobbed. Then, as one, they turned and ran to where Mrs. Wilkerson stood at the entrance to the sanctuary. A wave of “awwws” and quiet laughter from the guests rolled through the doorway at the children’s sudden and rather comical reappearance.
Quinn stood and took her father’s arm again, grateful for his steadying strength.
Once the kids were successfully on their way, Mrs. Wilkerson closed the doors and motioned for Quinn and Robert to take their place.
Everything turned strange and dreamlike as Robert led her into position.
“Pachelbel’s Canon” ended, and after several beats of silence, the bright, stately notes of “Trumpet Voluntary” filled the church.
This was it.
Robert threw back his shoulders and peered down at her. “You ready?”
She gazed into his eyes. In them, she saw love and pride tempered by a hint of melancholy. Emotion swelled in her chest. “Oorah, Daddy.”
His smile was soft when he winked and said, “Oorah, honey.”
The doors opened.
Upon catching Robert and Quinn in their sweet father/ daughter moment, there was another round of “awwws” from the guests.
As she looked forward, the sea of smiling faces all around her faded away. She only saw one.
James’s eyes lit up the moment he saw her. She returned his brilliant grin with one of her own. In his black tuxedo and with the way his thick, wavy hair was combed just so, he had never been more handsome. He was truly swoon-worthy.
Robert and Quinn started the slow walk toward her groom. As they did, she watched James’s smile crack and saw the raw emotion on his face.
Nose burning and eyes prickling with tears, she struggled to maintain her composure.
Quinn and her father reached the altar and came to a stop.
James’s smile returned in full force when his gaze dropped to the necklace she wore. It was a simple gold chain with a small pendant of an eagle with outstretched wings. It had been his first Christmas gift to her.
James glanced down at his necktie, looked back at her, and waggled one eyebrow.
Catching his hint, she studied the tie. It wasn’t the white one she’d expected him to wear. Instead, he wore the Lamborghini tie she’d given him that same Christmas. He’d told her once he only wore it on special occasions. She was glad to know their wedding day qualified. She grinned at him and moved an eyebrow. She understood.
Quinn dragged her gaze away from James and focused on the minister in front of them when he, in a mellifluous voice, began to speak.
Vows were made. Gold bands were exchanged. A kiss was shared. And they were married.