Chapter 43
43
O CTOBER 1917
Benedict stood alongside Mr. Gerard in the foyer of the church, waiting for Inga. Their first wedding had been a hasty civil ceremony in Ambassador Gerard’s office, but this time they would have a real wedding in a church before God, friends, and family.
“If she doesn’t hurry up, we’re going to lose our slot,” Mr. Gerard grumbled.
Benedict cast a worried glance toward the front of the church. Six weddings were scheduled to take place this afternoon, each slated for only an hour. In light of the war, thousands of couples were hurrying to marry before the men shipped off for England and France. He and Inga were up next, but they were already ten minutes late because Inga and Katherine, her matron of honor, were still primping somewhere behind the scenes.
Inga’s friends from the Martha Washington filled the front row. Mr. Gerard, the man who’d been like a father to Inga since she was ten years old, would give the bride away, which meant James Gerard was about to become his father-in-law.
Had there ever been a more drastic change of sentiment than between him and James Gerard? A relationship that began in mutual animosity had transformed into genuine respect and friendship over the past three years. James Gerard had been ill-equipped and inexperienced when he became ambassador to Germany during those twilight months before the world began sinking into darkness, but in the end he had been the right man for the job.
A patter of footsteps behind him made Benedict turn. Inga peeked around the corner, a white veil falling over her shoulders as she peeked toward the front of the church.
She looked breathtaking, her face radiant behind the veil. It was hard to believe that the magnificent and thoroughly delightful Inga Klein was about to become his wife for real. She was his partner, his equal, and the love of his life ... but if she didn’t hurry up, they were going to lose their slot to the next couple waiting in the wings to be married.
And yet Inga appeared to be in no hurry as she hid behind a column, scanning the guests at the front of the church.
He tamped down his frustration. “Inga, snap to it, or we’re going to lose our slot.”
She blanched. “Sorry! I’m not quite ready yet.”
“You look marvelous,” Mr. Gerard assured her. “Never has there been a more lovely bride. All right, no more primping. We’re late.”
The words made no dent on Inga. Katherine stood beside her, and they both looked with dismay toward the front of the church. The organist was ready, the priest stood to the side of the altar, and they were late.
Inga shook her head. “Sorry, we’ll be back soon!” she said, then disappeared back into the vestibule.
“Women,” Mr. Gerard muttered. “Inga would look lovely in a potato sack. Why must she keep fiddling with perfection?”
It was a good question, but Benedict had gotten used to conceding to Inga’s quirks. Half the time she was right anyway. Like agreeing to stay in New York instead of letting his ambition take him to a lonely life in Japan. Marriage was going to be a never-ending kaleidoscope of compromises, but they would be stronger and happier for it in the long run.
A commotion at the front door caused Benedict to turn as a man in an army officer’s uniform pushed through the cluster of wedding guests waiting for the next slot. He looked familiar, but before Benedict could place him, Katherine came barreling through the crowd to fling herself into the officer’s arms. It was Jonathan Birch, Katherine’s husband.
“Sorry I’m late,” Jonathan said, a grin breaking through. “I had to twist the captain’s arm for permission to disembark. I’ve got three hours of official leave before the ship sails.”
The reason for Inga’s stalling suddenly became clear. Jonathan was a newly commissioned officer who would soon be serving as a combat engineer, charged with dismantling bombs and land mines in France. It ranked among the most dangerous assignments any soldier could have, and these final three hours before shipping off might be the last Jonathan would ever have with his wife.
Suddenly, the wedding’s ten-minute delay no longer mattered. Jonathan and Katherine hurried down the aisle to join the others at the front of the church. Inga then emerged, her smile relaxed and radiant as she took Mr. Gerard’s arm.
Benedict ought to have headed to the altar to await his bride, but he couldn’t help himself. He lifted Inga’s veil and kissed her with everything he had in him.
“Kissing the bride before the vows breaks all rules of convention and decorum,” Mr. Gerard teased.
Benedict clasped Inga’s hands, gazing down into her eyes. “Inga and I haven’t done anything the conventional way,” he said. He tugged her veil back into place, gave her hands a final squeeze, then jogged to the front of the church, where the priest was waiting.
Women from the Martha Washington now filled the first few rows, along with a few telegraph operators from the harbor where Inga used to work. The port telegraphers disliked him intensely, and they surely wondered how a stick-in-the-mud had won a prize like Inga. Maybe he could win them over like he’d done with the staff at Alton House, or maybe not. It didn’t matter. He intended to get the port functioning like clockwork. The fighting men at the front deserved nothing less.
His chest expanded with pride as the music began and Inga walked toward him down the aisle.
Soon he and Inga were kneeling before the altar, her hands in his as they bowed their heads to receive God’s blessing. They were entering one of the darkest times in human history, but even so, God had provided flashes of joy to light the gloom, and this was one of them. No matter what lay ahead, he and Inga would face the future side by side, with love and faith, until the sun rose over their world once again.