Chapter 8
8
T he late afternoon sun slanted through the little whitewashed chapel in Summer Beach, bathing the vestibule in a golden glow. Ginger’s simple, bias-cut candlelight gown shimmered like spun sugar.
She waited in the entrance room with her mother while her father parked the car on the narrow street. The ocean breeze from an open window cooled the small area.
“You look breathtaking, my dear.” Her mother’s eyes shone with unshed tears of happiness.
Ginger beamed, though she recalled her mother had always dreamed of making a wedding dress for her. “You’re sure you don’t mind that my dress is store-bought?”
Mary Lou kissed her daughter’s cheek. “This is your new life. It’s right that Bertrand bought your dress so that you’d look how he wanted you to on your wedding day.”
Her mother’s words stung a little. “It’s the modern way, Mama. He said he loves me in anything I wear, so I choose clothes to suit me and the situation. It’s quite efficient.”
“You always were so bright and practical.” Her mother blinked back tears. “I’m just happy you’re marrying a man you love.”
“Because of your efforts and support,” Ginger said, wiping a tear from her mother’s cheek. “Wherever I am, I promise I’ll write often with every detail, so you’ll feel like you’re there with me.”
Since being out in the world, Ginger had observed her social surroundings with the eye of a scientist. For all her mother’s instructions about making the most of her intellectual gifts and choosing a husband Ginger wanted, Mary Lou Sheraton was still mired in old-fashioned roles in her marriage.
However, Ginger couldn’t blame her mother entirely; that was her father’s modus operandi , and her mother chose to accept the status quo to keep the peace.
Ginger smoothed a hand across the silk dress. She loved the cut and quality of the fine clothing she’d discovered in New York that was as well-crafted as what she and her mother could make. Of course, the cost reflected that, but it didn’t faze Bertrand. Over her dress, she wore a long, delicate lace coat that brushed her satin pumps.
With her heels, she was nearly as tall as her husband to be. I like that we’re on an equal footing, he’d said when they’d danced on their first date. She’d loved hearing that.
The chatter of guests filtered through the closed door. It was almost time.
Her small bouquet of ivory roses from her mother’s garden released a soft scent, calming her nerves with every breath.
“I can hardly believe you’re moving so far away.” Mary Lou hesitated, wiping tears gathering in the corner of her eye. She adjusted Ginger’s strand of pearls—another gift from Bertrand. “You’re a vision in this gown; he can’t deny that.”
This realization of their move was dawning on Ginger, too. An uncharacteristic lump rose in her throat at the raw emotion in her mother’s voice, so she glanced down at her dress again, her mind racing to the familiar. “This bias-cut drape is doubtless a result of mathematical precision in the cut. It’s a study in geometry.”
Mary Lou laughed and pulled her daughter into an embrace. “Leave it to you to deconstruct the poetry of a wedding gown into pure mathematics.” She cupped Ginger’s face in her palms. “My brilliant, practical girl. I’m so proud of the remarkable woman you’ve become. Bertrand is a lucky man.”
At the mention of her soon-to-be husband’s name, Ginger’s chest constricted with excitement. Taking a steadying breath, she turned toward the doorway separating her from the man she loved.
Organ music filled the air, and Ginger could feel the vibration through the floorboards.
Her father stepped inside, looking ill at ease in his suit. “If that man doesn’t take good care of you in Paris, you’re to come straight home, you hear?”
“Why, Stu, that isn’t like you at all,” Mary Lou said with surprise.
He gave a self-conscious shrug. “Things change.”
Beneath her father’s scowl, she saw pride and love in his expression.
Blinking hard, Stu took her hand and squeezed it. “I don’t want to lose you to Paris, that’s all.”
“I’ll be back, Pa.”
“And probably with babies,” Mary Lou added. “We love you, darling. We’ll miss you, that’s all.”
“Me, too.” She kissed her father’s cheek. “I’m ready now.”
Ginger slid her hand through the crook in his elbow as he opened the door. Her mother also held her arm. This was how Ginger wanted it.
Their guests turned and, with a murmur of surprise, stood beaming as she entered between her mother and father.
The sight of Bertrand awaiting her at the end of the aisle stole Ginger’s breath for a moment. His tailored suit accentuated the lean strength of his frame and erect posture. His gray eyes, filled with adoration, anchored her in a way her rational mind could never quite quantify.
With his gaze trained on her, Bertrand mouthed the words, I love you.
She smiled, still amazed that she had fallen in love so quickly these past few whirlwind weeks. Yet, she also felt like she was marrying her best friend. Since meeting, she had shared all her dreams and aspirations with him. They had grown to know each other long before their first date at the ambassador’s estate.
Ever since that evening, they had been nearly inseparable, dining together every day he was in town.
Bertrand’s face shone with such admiration and devotion. How had she not detected his true feelings for so long? When she’d confided that in him, he had laughed and said it was only because she thought more with her head than her heart.
Fortunately, he loved that about her, though he promised to make sure she learned the heart was just as important.
Now, Ginger couldn’t imagine ever being without him again. Love was changing her; she could feel it, even if she couldn’t explain it. With her horizons broadening, she noticed more beauty in the world, more possibilities.
At last, Ginger stood before the man she loved, and her parents took their seats. Bertrand’s smile was warm and reassuring.
The minister began, and Ginger felt as if she were floating in the rafters, watching the scene from above. Her parents sat in the first row, beaming with pride. They looked happier than she could ever recall seeing them. Her brothers and childhood friends filled the other pews, some with dates, others with new spouses: Sylvia, Pearl, and Juanita. Her friends Helen and Chase, who married last year, were there, and Helen was already pregnant.
On the other side sat Kurt Powell and his wife. Kurt hated to lose Ginger, but he was happy for Bertrand, his closest friend. Kurt’s younger brother had also driven with them; Oliver was about Ginger’s age. The three handsome men were the life of any party they attended.
The brief ceremony passed by in a blur. Ginger couldn’t keep the radiant smile from her face as they exchanged rings. As she clasped her husband’s hands and the minister pronounced them husband and wife, happiness washed over her.
“At last, my love,” Bertrand murmured, taking her in his arms.
“At last, and forever,” she whispered, gliding on a wave of love so consuming that it rendered the world around them small and insignificant.
They sealed their vow with a sweet kiss and the promise of much more to come.
After greeting and mingling with their guests, her mother hugged her. “We’ll leave for the house and have everyone follow us now. You two take your time.” She beamed at Bertrand and kissed Ginger on the cheek.
Her parents were hosting a reception and dinner at their home. Her mother had been cooking and baking for days before Ginger and Bertrand arrived.
“We’re ready now,” Ginger said.
“Wait,” Bertrand said in a husky voice, taking her hand. “We’ll follow them shortly. Let’s take a moment to ourselves.”
They stepped into the adjoining wisteria-draped courtyard and sat on a stone bench, releasing the tension they’d built up. They both drew in deep breaths and rested in each other’s embrace.
“Right before the ceremony, I received a call about Paris,” Bertrand said, kissing her shoulder. “Our application for the furnished flat was approved, so it will be ready for us when we arrive.”
“That’s wonderful, darling. What a relief.” They would have a week before they left. It hardly seemed real to her.
“Marie and her mother will help you get anything you need. Most of the wives are good friends. Of course, Marie’s mother is a French citizen, so she knows all the best shops. That will be a real advantage to you.”
“When will I be able to visit my parents?” she asked, knowing how much her mother would miss her.
“We’ll return together twice a year,” he replied, smoothing her hair. “They’re my family, too.”
She knew this was important to Bertrand. As much as he’d loved his parents, they were no longer with him. He had a strong desire to recreate a family. Kurt was like a brother to him, and he treated her parents as his own.
They talked a little more until Bertrand kissed her and said, “I have something else to show you now. Are you ready?”
She twisted the diamond band that rested on her finger. “Everything is perfect. What else could I possibly want?”
“One final surprise.” His eyes sparkling with mischief, he rose. “I think you’ll like this one.” He gestured down a winding path that led toward the beach. “This way, darling.”
Bemused, she followed him. They strolled a short distance before he stopped.
Nestled near the beach against a backdrop of bluffs and lapping waves stood a white, two-story cottage. Wildflowers and bougainvillea bloomed around it in fuchsia and purple.
“This home is my wedding gift to you.” His lips curved into the mysterious smile she loved. “No matter where we roam, I want you to have a home we can return to and root our family.” He swept an arm out to encompass the stunning panorama. “Summer Beach will always be that.”
Tears filled Ginger’s eyes as she flung her arms around him. “It’s everything I could have wanted.” Her head spinning with delight, Ginger showered him with kisses. “How did you manage this?”
“Your parents are quite good at keeping secrets, I found. Welcome home, my dear. It’s yours to decorate.”
Ginger’s gaze drifted over the house, her keen aesthetic eye evaluating the possibilities. Beyond the cottage, fiery coral hues streaked across the evening sky.
An idea bloomed in her mind. “Let’s paint it.”
“Whatever you like. What color do you imagine?”
She lifted her face toward the sunset. “That gorgeous coral shade. Isn’t it magnificent?”
“Anything you want.” Bertrand laughed. “We’ll call it the Coral Cottage.”
Ginger smiled with delight. Since she’d left home, her orderly world had shifted beyond what she ever could have imagined. In her soul, she sensed a marvelous adventure unfolding.
This cottage would be their refuge. Feeling safe, she could fully surrender to the glorious unknown.
Bertrand opened the door to reveal a foyer bathed in the rosy glow of flickering candles. But it was the vision beyond that made Ginger smile: A table laden with crystal glasses and a vase of her mother’s roses, set for what appeared to be a celebratory feast.
Realization dawned on her, and she turned to Bertrand. “You’re a sly character.”
“We’ll stay here tonight.” He waggled his eyebrows mischievously before scooping her into his arms and crossing the threshold.
Once he did, their family and friends materialized from hiding, beaming and applauding the newlyweds.
As Bertrand set Ginger on her feet, she turned, taking in every detail. Her father appeared carrying champagne.
“For my daughter and my new son,” he said proudly.
Tears of joy trickled down Ginger’s cheeks as she embraced her father’s sturdy frame. “Thank you, Pa.” He’d finally come around.
Mary Lou joined her husband in a toast to them. “May your lives be an adventure, and may you embrace it with the same passion you’ve embraced this day. Welcome to the family, dear Bertrand.”
“Thank you from the depths of my heart,” he said, raising his glass to them.
With a confident smile, Ginger tapped her glass to Bertrand’s and their journey ahead. “To our future,” she echoed, daring to dream.