55. Chapter Fifty-Five
Chapter Fifty-Five
Cillian’s breath caught as he glimpsed his first sight of his sister. Beautiful and poised in her white lace dress, her hand rested lightly on their father’s arm. Emily, solemn as a monk, walked behind, a posy of wildflowers clasped tight between her fingers.
Behind Emily, a grinning Alice clung on to Daniel as he guided her down the path toward the beach.
Two beautiful brides. But it was the sight of May that prompted Cillian’s greatest reaction.
Her teal silk dress set off her dark hair and tanned skin, skimming her body with a simplicity he knew she would have insisted on.
May had been wrong when she described Kia Critchlow as the most beautiful girl in the country.
The most beautiful girl was May. In fact, Cillian realised with a start, she was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen.
Someone coughed beside him, and Cillian looked up. A nervous-looking Nick pointed to Cillian’s guitar.
‘Oh, right, sorry, man.’ Cillian pulled the guitar strap around his neck.
His fingertips began lightly picking the first chords of “Still Falling for You”.
After all he’d done to avoid singing pop songs, on this occasion he wouldn’t choose to be anywhere else singing anything else.
The song was a perfect choice agreed by both brides and given the way their eyes were fixed on their husbands-to-be as they slowly crossed the sand, the couples at the centre of the special day were breathing in every sentiment in the song.
As Cillian began singing, May caught his eye and held it. He was singing to her and no one else, his heart swelling as her eyes filled with tears.
When he reached the chorus, a movement from the corner of his eye made him smile.
The timing was perfect. The moment the bridal party reached the aisle, Margot and a select group from her community choir got to their feet, adding harmonies to Cillian’s lead vocal, their voices soaring into the still air, swooping gulls adding an aerial display to the moment.
There were audible gasps from those standing to watch the brides approach, and plenty of rustling as people reached into bags and pockets for tissues to dry their eyes.
Somewhere between the path and the driftwood aisle, Kitty, Alice and members of the bridal party had discarded their shoes, and a faint plume of sand formed like a cloud as step by step they made their way to the start of a new life.
Luke had tears streaming down his cheeks.
Nick’s eyes shone as he held out his arms for Kitty to walk into them.
Cillian and the members of Margot’s choir brought the song to a close, and Cillian took his seat beside May. She continued staring straight ahead, but surprised him by taking his fingers in her own and squeezing them.
‘That was beautiful,’ she mouthed.
He couldn’t think of anything to say in return, so nodded, keeping hold of the hand that fitted so perfectly inside his own.
The ceremony unfolded with a simple elegance that matched the place.
The sea whispered at the edge of the cove, waves lapping in a rhythm that seemed to bless each vow spoken beneath the flower-covered arbour.
Cillian tried to listen to every word – Nick’s deep voice shaking with emotion, Kitty’s serenity as she promised her life to him – but his thoughts kept straying to the girl beside him.
May slipped her hand from his, and its absence doused him like a sudden coldness. She was composed now, her expression calm, although every so often her lashes flickered as if to hide something she didn’t want the world to see.
Then the celebrant announced, ‘And now, a reading chosen by Alice and Nick.’
Cillian glanced at the programme on his knee, and his heart stuttered. A title stared up at him that was not a poem at all. It was the title of one of his own songs. He sat forward in disbelief as May rose to her feet, a slip of paper held between her fingers.
She walked to the front with quiet poise, teal silk catching the sunlight, her hair lifting slightly in the breeze.
Cillian forgot to breathe. She was about to read his words, the words he had once dismissed as too raw to share, words pulled from the depths of a confused mind shortly after he’d arrived in Saffron Bay.
They were words he’d shared with Nick and Alice on the condition they remain private until he was ready to make them public.
Nevertheless, as May began reading the lyrics, Cillian had no sense of betrayal.
This was the perfect moment for the words to be spoken.
When he’d written them, he wasn’t even sure who he was singing them to.
Now, as May’s unruffled voice carried over the gathered friends and family, he realised with a start that he’d written them for her.
‘When the world grows heavy, I’ll be the hand that steadies and takes the load. When the silence feels too loud, I’ll sing the truth until you hear it. When you think you’re falling, know I’m falling too …’
Every syllable struck him harder than if he’d sung them himself.
Her eyes met his halfway through the verse and held them there, locked as though there was no one else around them.
For that moment, it wasn’t a public reading.
It wasn’t about Kitty, or Nick, or Alice, or Luke.
It was May, speaking his heart back to him, as though the song had always been theirs.
A lump rose in Cillian’s throat, his chest tight with an emotion he could no longer deny. He was in love with her. Utterly, terrifyingly in love.
May reached the end of the reading, lowered the paper, and for the briefest instant her lips curved into the smallest of smiles, one meant for him and no one else. Then she returned to her seat as though nothing had happened, leaving Cillian trembling beside her.
He barely heard the rest of the vows. The crash of waves, the cry of gulls, the hum of the celebrant’s words – it all faded into nothing except the echo of May’s voice reading his words. He reached for her hand and entwined his fingers with hers once more.