Epilogue
CLARE STOOD IN THE bridal room in front of the full-length mirror. It wasn’t quiet, far from it. Jess, Nicole, and both of Deacon’s sisters laughed wildly, clinking glasses of champagne. Her mom and Nancy stood to the side, each with a baby cooing in their arms. Margo and Maci danced and twirled, white rose petals falling from their baskets as they did.
Her dress was simple, soft white and lace, with cap sleeves and a scoop neck. Her hair was down, and a band of tiny flowers that sang of a summer wedding held it back from her face. Her face had natural color, her cheeks and nose pink from long days outside, pushing swings and kicking balls.
Her phone rang, and she turned, recognizing Deacon’s ring tone. Margo held the cell phone over her head and squealed as she answered it.
“Daddy! Hi, Daddy!”
Maci leaned in, putting her mouth to the screen. “Hi, Daddy! We have fwowers!”
Then as if her daddy could see, she flung a handful into the air. Clare laughed at their joy. Let them throw flowers, she thought. It was why she’d planned for a full refill just before the wedding and another for the reception.
The photographer in the corner snapped pictures she knew she’d treasure.
“Cware! It’s Daddy!”
Smiling, she came toward them, her heart fluttering for the man on the other end of the line. She hadn’t seen him since he’d kissed her goodbye last night. They’d gone for tradition and spent the night apart. She’d barely slept for the excitement and because she was so used to falling asleep in his arms. “Tell Daddy I’ll see him soon.”
The girls relayed the message, and Alex took the phone to give her brother grief for calling again.
Clare knelt in front of the girls, and they came to her, crawling on their knees, no thought or care for their white dresses. The rings of tea roses and baby’s breath sat askew on top of their heads. She thought they looked perfect, natural, like little girls who’d been dancing in a field of flowers.
Maci reached out to touch her hair then the flowers on top. “I like your fwowers,” she said.
Clare pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose. “I like yours, too.”
“We’re fairy princesses,” Margo said.
Maci repeated it as they scooted closer to her.
“I love you,” Clare said, the words tumbling out of her too-full heart. It happened a lot, and she figured it would never be too much or too many times. They were hers, in every way that mattered. And soon they’d be hers on paper, too. They’d even called her Mommy a few times—the first time, Deacon had found her crying happy tears in the bathroom.
She and Deacon had sat the girls down and, while Margo held Parker and Maci held Patrick, had told them the boys were their brothers. That was after they’d told the girls they were getting married, so the biology of it had been avoided. All they knew, all they cared about, was they were going to be a family. They were going to be together all the time, and Clare and the babies would live in their house and never leave.
“Make a tent!” Margo said, reaching behind Clare for her veil.
Clare pulled the sheer length over her head, capturing the three of them under the gauzy folds. With an arm around each girl, she leaned forward and got a kiss on each cheek. When she heard the click of a camera, she knew this would be her favorite picture. And with the sudden burn of tears, knew one day she’d be in a room like this with one or both of these precious babies waiting to walk down the aisle to their own groom.
“Clare,” Jess called. “If you could stop playing on the floor, it’s time to get married.”
She adjusted her veil and straightened, so happy she was nearly dizzy with it. Patrick began to cry, and as she went for him, her mom turned him out of reach. “Oh, no you don’t. I have a bottle, and I know what to do with it.”
Clare smiled. She and Nancy were in grandma heaven. “Okay. I guess the boys and my boobs can make it until after the wedding.”
There was a knock on the door just before the wedding coordinator poked her head in. “It’s time.”
They walked out and lined up per the coordinator’s instructions. The grandmas took their seats with the babies while Alex made sure Margo and Maci didn’t dump their full baskets of petals until they started down the aisle.
The music started, and the bridesmaids began their slow walk.
She looked to Jess. “Want to hear me roar?”
Jess grinned. “Will it be loud?”
“Shake-the-rafters, bring-the-roof-down loud.”
Jess’s lip quivered.
“Don’t cry. You’ll make me cry.”
“I’m not. I can’t hug you, it’ll mess you up.”
Clare squeezed her friend’s hand, kissed her cheek then watched her walk down the aisle.
Next were the girls. They went slowly, really slowly. She and Deacon had laughed, wondering if they would run, skip, or savor their moment in the spotlight. Seemed they were savoring it.
Then as if to prove a three-, nearly four-year-old was anything but predictable, Maci upturned her basket, dumping the remainder in a pile, and ran straight to Deacon, arms raised. To the delight and laughter of the gathered guests, he picked her up, kissed her, then pointed her to her spot with her aunt and sister.
The music changed, and those in the church stood.
“Here we go,” her dad said, holding out his arm.
She took it and kissed his smooth cheek.
Yes, here we go. She stood just another second, gazing down the aisle.
Her eyes met Deacon’s, and she thought, There he is. I found it. I found him. Everything I ever wanted, everything I was always looking for.
And as the wedding march played, and with Deacon’s eyes locked with hers, she took the first step.
The End
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Turn the page to read the first chapter of WORTH THE FALL, Matt and Abby’s story.
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