Lara

A light mist shrouds the enormous black iron planter at the entrance to the square. It’s early and the green space is empty, the curved walkways leading to the front of the cathedral quiet and touched with dew.

Another hour, and it will be flooded with street vendors and tourists, but for these magical minutes, it’s deserted, serene.

Burning yellow sunlight filters through the dark spires high above, causing the gray slate tiles to shimmer. Crosses stand like beacons between each, and like everything since we returned to the city, the edifice doesn’t feel ominous anymore. It feels hopeful.

The large gas lanterns at the entrance on Decatur Street are still lit, and dawn is just touching the glossy green leaves of the banana trees clustered along the wrought iron fence.

It rained earlier, but humidity still hangs heavy in the air. The flagstone sidewalks are glassy, and Molly steps up to me holding a bouquet of deep blue iris flowers mixed with moonflowers and white roses.

My dress is ivory gossamer fabric over a light sheath. Lace patterns cover the bodice over flesh-toned fabric, and my hair is smoothed into a bun at the nape of my neck. I’m not wearing a veil. We decided to forego such traditions, since Evie is down front holding our daughter.

“You look beautiful,” Molly says quietly.

“So do you.”

She’s wearing a short gray dress made of flowing silk held up by spaghetti straps. A silk sash is around her waist, and her long hair falls over her shoulders.

“I wanted to give you this.” She holds out her palm, and a rectangular piece of plastic sits in it.

“What is it?”

“He had them all on his computer. Probably watched them, the perv.”

My brow furrows, and I realize she means Gavin. “These are the videos?”

“Yeah. I made sure they’re all there then I wiped his hard drive.” Her lips tighten, and she lifts her chin to look up at the spires. “I don’t recommend watching them… unless you have to.”

“But… how?”

“I went back after they sent me home.” She blinks back to me. “I had a hunch. It didn’t take long to find them.”

Roland appears, walking quickly toward us from the direction of the cathedral doors. “We should probably get moving if we’re going to beat the crowds.”

A noise to the right makes us all look to see a street vendor opening a large yellow umbrella lined with feathers.

“You’re right,” I say, gathering the train of my dress and turning to follow him, the thumb drive hidden in my palm against the flowers.

He’s wearing a light gray, three-piece suit, and he holds out an arm. I take it, and Molly follows behind us. We don’t have permission to be here doing this, so we’re not only hoping to beat the crowds, we’re hoping to beat the constable, too.

A friend of Roland’s who was a minister in a former life waits at the fountain on the other side of the iron monument, and another of Roland’s friends plays Pachelbel’s Canon on the accordion. We walk past the ancient, oversized palms clustered beneath the sweeping live oak trees with their dark branches hanging low.

Like everything we’ve done, it’s exciting and clandestine and perfect, and when I finally see my future husband, my breath catches. He’s gorgeous standing by the small fountain waiting for me. He’s wearing a dark suit, and his hair is pushed back from his face. His blue silk tie makes his blue eyes glow, and I can see the dimple in his cheek despite the light scruff of beard.

A small crescent of pink petals and two white pillar candles in jars form the staging area where we’ll say our vows. Roland passes me to Mark before stepping aside next to Armand, Phillip, and Evie.

Evie’s wearing a long, pale pink dress, and Jillian is in her arms. Our baby is all in white with a bow in her thickening hair, and she lets out a little squeal when she sees me. We laugh softly, and once the music ends, we draw closer in a group to begin the ceremony.

I hand the bouquet to Molly, and just before taking Mark’s hands, I slip the thumb drive into his breast pocket

“I’ll explain later,” I whisper.

Naturally, that provokes a murmur from our friends. Mark only grins and covers my hands with his larger ones. He lifts my fingers and kisses the backs of them as the minister begins.

Another gentle breeze swirls around us as we recite the traditional vows and exchange our rings. My wedding band has three small, emerald-cut diamonds along the front. It’s my compromise with Mark, and after we’ve promised to love, honor, and protect, the minister falls silent for us to say our own thoughts.

“Lara.” Mark reaches for my waist, pulling me closer to his body. “The first time I saw you, I dreamed of making you mine. Despite all the forces pulling us apart, I never gave up on that dream. I promise always to catch you when you fall, protect you from the darkness, and hold your hand in the light.” My eyes heat as he says the final words. “Thank you for my beautiful little girl and for making my dream come true. I’ll love you all my life.”

Smiling, I reach up to touch the tears away. Jillian makes a noise that sounds like Mama, and I look over my shoulder. Evie is right there, and I reach out for the baby, taking her in my arms. Mark smiles, and puts a hand on her little arm.

Noises of the street vendors setting up grows louder around us, and I hear the clip-clop of the horse-drawn carriages taking their spots to wait along Decatur Street.

Clearing my throat, I begin. “Mark, you saved my life, you made me laugh, and you gave me this beautiful little girl.” Pausing, I inhale a shaky breath. “You’re my hero and my handsome prince all in one gorgeous package.” I look down, shaking my head. “I’m sorry I ran from you… I’m sorry I was afraid. I promise, from now on, I’ll only ever run toward you, into your arms. You’ve proven you’re strong enough to face anything that might chase us. Thank you for loving me, for giving me hope, and for rescuing me from the darkness. I’ll love you forever.”

A loud sniffle from Evie makes us laugh, and the minister cuts in. “I now pronounce you man and wife, you may kiss the bride.”

Mark pulls me to him, covering my mouth with his. I reach up to hold the back of his neck, and as our lips part, a loud cheer erupts around us. Our kiss transforms into a laugh as a brass band starts playing “Tootie Ma” behind us.

Mark gives me another quick kiss before turning to our clapping, smiling friends.

“Let’s get out of here,” he says, and we blow out the candles and take off down the sidewalk in the direction of Preservation Hall.

Our reception is set up inside, with two tables holding assorted breakfast foods from scrambled eggs to fresh beignets and a huge bowl of grits. Another table holds Mimosas and a station for Bloody Marys. Small bouquets of flowers are in Mason jars and tied to the iron gates at the entrance.

Mark and I have our first dance as husband and wife to “I Think I Love You.” From there, the playlist continues with New Orleans standards and newer favorites from “Santiago” to “That’s It,” while we mingle with our friends in the growing crowd, sip drinks, and have breakfast.

“This is amazing,” Joshua says, sliding up beside Molly, a Mimosa in his hand.

Roland bounces Jillian on his hip, and she smiles, clapping to the music. Mark’s hands grip my waist, and he holds my back to his chest.

The weathered grey interior blends with the flowers, the food, and the music in an inviting scene of family and home. I’m tapping in time with the music when it suddenly stops.

The fellow on the piano holds out a hand to me, and shouts, “Time for cake!”

The music changes into Mardi Gras, and two ladies walk out. One holds a cake decorated with a white basket-weave frosting and littered with purple irises, yellow roses, and green carnations. The other has an enormous king cake with beads and purple, green, and yellow sugar-covered icing.

Stepping out of Mark’s embrace, I lead him to the table where we pose for pictures as we cut the cakes and give each other small bites. He leans in and kisses me sugary sweet as the room bursts into cheers and applause.

“Happy?” He holds my waist, and rubs his nose against mine.

“Ecstatic.” I kiss his lips again. “I’ve wanted to be here with you again so long.”

The band takes a break as the cake is cut and handed out to all the guests and visitors. Coffee is served, and Evie stands with her head on Armand’s shoulder. Their hands are clasped, and Phillip sits in a nearby chair, holding a coffee.

“Armand.” I go to him and taking his hands. “Finally, I can thank you for how you helped us with Seattle.”

He smiles and kisses my cheek. “I was glad to do it, and Evie was glad to have the baby all to herself for a few days.”

“Still, it would have been a lot harder and taken a lot longer. I would have been frantic worrying about her—”

“I’m sorry I had to leave before you returned, but I visited with your friend Mr. Lovel while I was in Paris. He sends you his best wishes… and a gift.”

Armand takes a narrow white box from his breast pocket and hands it to me.

“Oh!” I take it. A folded note is inside, and I read the inscription.

Wishing you a lifetime of happiness, and if you ever decide to sing again…

-Freddie

I take out a beautiful gold necklace with a delicate gold treble clef charm.

“It’s gorgeous. But I didn’t know you and Freddie—”

“He’s a business partner. We’ve actually worked together for years.”

Glancing over at Roland, I notice he’s drifted closer to where the band is playing. Jillian is on his arm, and I feel a mixture of regret and gratitude. As long as I’ve known him, he was always looking for ways to take care of us.

All of us.

I feel bad for the times I doubted him, was cross with him. The night I threatened to take Jilly and leave.

“What’s wrong?” Molly appears at my side.

“Just thinking about Roland. How much he helped us.”

“Armand gave you a gift?” She frowns looking at the necklace.

“It’s actually from Freddie. They know each other.”

“Small world,” she says, tracing her finger over the gold charm. “It’s pretty.”

Joshua is at her side, and I reach out to grasp his hand. “I’m so glad you could come.”

He gives me that signature smile. “Me too. I’ve never been to New Orleans. It’s just like everyone says.”

“How’s that?”

“Good food, great music, sticky…” I start to laugh, and he pulls Molly onto the dance floor.

She tries to complain, but he manages to get her dancing anyway. My heart is full seeing her happy with him.

Roland walks up to me still carrying Jillian. I put my arm around his waist and a hand on my daughter’s back as the music transforms into a slow waltz.

“It’s perfect,” I say, moving side to side.

He nods. “Everyone seems happy, settled.” A little sigh. “Your mother would have loved all this. She loved everything about the city.”

“I wish I’d known her.” The words are out before I can stop them.

My lips tighten and I blame the mimosas.

“You don’t have to look ashamed,” Roland says. “It’s okay to miss her.”

“I don’t want to miss her.”

“Why not?” Jillian puts her head on his shoulder, and he kisses her hair.

I stroke her baby back. “Because she left me here… with Gavin.”

“She left you with the sisters in an orphanage.” We sway side to side as the piano takes over the melody. He hesitates, thinking. “But you’re right, you ended up with Gavin. Because he loved her. As sick as she was, she was still so beautiful, and when she died, he promised to take care of you.”

“A promise he did not keep.”

“Maybe… he gave us a place to live, food, work.”

My eyes widen, and my voice rises. “He was a pervert and a criminal.”

Mark appears almost immediately, putting his hand on my back and touching my cheek. “You okay?”

I give him a nod, calming my breathing.

“Let me have her.” He lifts our sleepy daughter out of Roland’s arms and carries her to the courtyard.

“Shh…” Roland puts his hand on my waist, finishing the dance. “You misunderstood. I’m not defending him. I’m defending her. Those days were difficult, especially living on the street. You were a little girl, and your mother had to do what she could to survive, to feed you.”

My teeth clench, and I shake my head. “I don’t want to think about the past today.”

“I understand. When you do, I’m here.”

The song ends and we break apart. Just before he drifts away, I catch his hand again. “Wait. I wanted to thank you. For everything.”

He touches my chin and smiles. “It’s what I do.”

Walking away, I imagine he’ll be looking for any chance to sit in with the band before long. I feel our early morning wakeup combined with mimosas and good food catching up with me. I wander out to the courtyard where my husband swaying side to side, our little girl asleep on his shoulder.

My chest fills at the sight. “Shall we head home, Mr. Fitzhugh?”

I lean my head against Mark’s shoulder.

“As beautiful as that dress is, I’m ready to get you out of it,” he says, and the rumble in his voice heats my panties.

“I’m ready for you to take me out of it.”

His blue eyes darken. “I’ll get the car.”