4. At the Altar
Chapter 4
At the Altar
Rolf and Karen’s estate—Moments later
W hen Cerissa reached the mandapa , she shed her shoes and entered from the left—the bride’s side—up the two steps until she faced Henry.
He extended his hand, waiting for her.
Traditionally, her uncle would be the one to join them ritually, but that wasn’t possible, and instead, she imagined her father being there, and a sharp sadness struck her. She’d been a tween when he died over two hundred years ago, and to this day, she still missed him. But then her gaze lifted to meet Henry’s, and she knew her pita would be proud of her choice.
Ari left the groom’s side and, taking her arm, placed Cerissa’s right hand in Henry’s.
The circuit closed, and the touch sent an electric shudder through her.
His crystalline eyes—the color of dark bourbon—shone with love. A sudden urge overwhelmed her, an urge to run her fingers over his high cheekbones, plunge them into his ebony hair and free his ponytail, then pull him tight against her for a deep kiss. She managed to restrain herself. Barely.
The wedding march continued playing, and with a trembling smile, she whispered, “Hi.”
“Hello, mi amor . You look lovely.”
“So do you.” Then she giggled. “I mean, you’re very handsome.”
The music finished, and Amma joined them under the mandapa to sing a hymn in Hindi, telling how the god of love gave Cerissa to the world for Henry to adore.
Cerissa sighed in relief. After Amma’s reaction last night, she’d feared her mother would refuse to bless the marriage. As Amma sang, Karen handed Cerissa the flower garlands. She placed one around Henry’s neck—thick yellow chrysanthemums interspersed with red roses—then he took the other and did the same for her. The spicy, rich floral scent surrounded her.
She turned to Father Matt, who tied her ceremonial scarf to Henry’s, representing their new bond, and then looked into her mate’s glistening eyes again. She wasn’t the only one struggling to keep her happiness from overflowing.
The night darkened, but the soft floodlights lit them. Amma exited the mandapa on Ari’s arm to take her seat in the front row, then Ari returned to stand near the right-hand support pillar, ready for his next role in the ceremony.
Father Matt said an opening prayer, asking for a blessing on the couple. Then he narrated as they performed some of the Hindu traditions. “To symbolize the beginning of their new household, the bride and groom will light the divine fire together.”
Henry struck the long matchstick, and with her hand wrapped over his, they lit the fire.
Ari held out his cupped hands, and Cerissa mimicked the action. Puffed rice fell from his palms to hers, and she tossed the rice into the fire, repeating the offering three separate times.
“As a wish for their happy marriage,” Father Matt explained, “the bride feeds the sacred fire.”
Performing the rituals allowed her emotions to settle. The strength of Henry’s love flooded through the crystal again, and her throat tightened as more glad tears threatened to fall.
H enry couldn’t fight the grin on his face as his bride returned to his side. They were more than halfway to being married. He took Cerissa’s hand and followed her around the ceremonial fire, and with each circuit to the right, they recited the vow together, circling three times. “We promise to belong to each other and remain friends forever, equal partners in our pursuit of love, duty, prosperity, and family.”
Finished, he stepped to the lush upholstered chairs on the right side of the mandapa , and waited for her so they could take their seats at the same time. The wedding planner had clued him in on the tradition. In some Hindu cultures, the couple raced each other, because whoever took their seat first would be the ruler of the household.
He had talked it over with Cerissa, and they’d agreed to sit simultaneously, as neither would be the boss of the other.
Father Matt then said a traditional blessing in Sanskrit.
Henry took Cerissa’s hand in his and gently squeezed. They were already best friends, and he couldn’t wish for a better-suited mate to walk at his side. He hoped with his whole heart the remainder of the blessings came true—eternal happiness and a happy family life. He would embrace her future children as his own with his whole heart, just as he loved her.
When the blessing finished, Henry rose and offered his hand as she stood. For the seven steps, they didn’t circle the fire. They took one step forward for each vow, walking between the brass brazier and their seated guests.
At the closure of the final vow, they were now legally married in her tradition. For the Catholic part, Henry had decided against holding a full mass and instead asked his vampire child, Christine, to read three selections from the Bible.
He and Cerissa took their seats for the readings. He’d always loved the sensuous language in The Song of Solomon and had selected judiciously those verses expressing King Solomon’s admiration of his bride, along with the mutual physical and spiritual desire they had for each other.
Very much how he felt about Cerissa, and how he knew she felt about him.
“‘My beloved is mine, and I am his…’” Christine read. “‘You have captured my heart, my own one, my bride. Arise, my love…’”
He squeezed Cerissa’s hand. She tilted her chin, a light blush on her cheeks and her eyes glazed with tears.
Christine moved on to Jesus’s changing of water to wine, which seemed like a natural reading to include in the marriage of a winemaker—especially when the very reason Cerissa came to the Hill community was to bring them another source of dark wine. Christine’s voice was perfect for a reader. As an attorney, she’d regularly spoken in front of a jury, and being surrounded by friends made it even easier.
Then came Saint Peter’s reflections on the radical nature of love. The profound lines from First Corinthians, “Love is patient, love is kind,” filled Henry with lightness and warmth every time he heard them recited.
Even if Cerissa never said the words I love you again, her actions spoke the loudest. She showed her love for him—and others—with everything she did.
Following the verses, Christine returned to her seat, and Father Matt gave a very brief sermon on the meaning of marriage, echoing many of the admonitions already spoken in the Hindu vows. He turned to Henry and Cerissa and closed with, “When you marry, you’re still strangers to each other. Learning about your spouse is a process that will last a lifetime. Be patient, be kind, be empathetic, and always, embrace love.” He then faced the guests again. “We’re almost done now.”
A titter of laughter scattered through the audience.
With a sweep of his hand, Father Matt invited the couple to rise. “They will now say their final vows.”
Henry offered a hand to Cerissa, and together they stepped to the front of the fire.
“Who has the rings?”
Rolf bent over to fish them from Bear’s pouch, then displayed both rings to the priest.
“Cerissa’s first,” Father Matt whispered.
The platinum band dropped onto Henry’s palm. He faced his bride and struggled to keep his voice from shaking. “I, Enrique Bautista Vasquez, take you, Cerissa Patel, to be my lawfully wedded wife. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, and I will love you and honor you all the days of my life.” He slipped the band on her finger, which nestled against her engagement ring. “Take and wear this ring as a sign of my love and faithfulness.”
Rolf then handed Cerissa the black gold band, inset with brown diamonds in a channel encircling the center. Despite Henry’s plea to keep his simple—a plain yellow-gold band would be enough—she’d wanted something special and elegant, her gift to him.
He’d given in at the end.
She repeated the same vow, then slid the ring on his finger, where it promptly got stuck on his knuckle. She giggled, and their guests laughed, and he had to twist the band twice to finally get it seated right. When he met her gaze again, she turned serious. “Take and wear this ring as a sign of my love and faithfulness.”
Father Matt took over from there. “With the power invested in me by the Episcopal Church and the state of California, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss.”
Henry took her in his arms, and the sweet fragrance of their flower garlands mingled, the chrysanthemums and roses forever embedding the scent memory of the moment in his mind as he touched his lips to Cerissa’s warm ones.
The touch, soft at first, pressed firmer as airy joy swept through him. When her lips parted, he forgot completely where he stood, forgot the audience, forgot everything except Cerissa, and his dizziness gave way to passion as he kissed her deeply.
Married. They were now married.
He opened his eyes to see her emerald ones shining with unshed tears. She was his wife. Forever.