Chapter Thirty-nine
Finbarr stood at the front of the Hope Springs church, hearing the voices of his family behind him. He didn’t even bother trying to sort out exactly who was sitting exactly where. They were there for what was already the greatest day of his life.
So far, at least.
“Ma’s crying already.” Tavish spoke from directly beside him.
“Weddings always make her cry.”
“There were a lot of years, Finbarr, when we weren’t certain you would ever be happy again, let alone see a day like this one,” Tavish said. “I suspect all the family’ll be weeping through this wedding.”
“Thank you for not giving up on me during those awful years, Tavish. I’d not be here without you.”
Tavish set a hand on his shoulder. “And you’d not be here without Emma. The day she decided that the person you were becoming wasn’t someone she wanted in her life was, I firmly believe, the day she saved you.”
“I’ve spent ten years trying to become someone she could think well of.”
“And you managed to become someone she loves enough to marry.”
“A miracle, that.” Finbarr grinned, something he did a lot lately.
“Speaking of, your bride’s just stepped inside.”
Finbarr turned toward the back of the church, though he couldn’t make out anything but the vaguest of shapes. “Does she look happy?”
“She does.” Tavish squeezed his shoulder. “I’m proud of the man you’ve become, Finbarr. I’ll try to remember to tell you that once in a while.”
Tavish stepped away. A mere moment later Finbarr heard the sound of a swishing dress directly beside him.
“It’s Emma,” she said.
“Do you know, I suspected it might be.”
Her beloved laugh. He would get to spend the rest of his life hearing it.
The gathered O’Connors and Archers grew quiet.
From very nearby, the preacher began, “Dearly beloved . . .”
Finbarr didn’t have to see the press of people in his home to know it was filled to overflowing.
The noise alone told the story. Were it a daily occurrence, he couldn’t have endured it.
But in celebration of the new life he was beginning with Emma, he’d have endured all the chaos his family could create.
He’d not moved from the bench all night. Navigating through a crowd so tightly packed would have been impossible. It was far more practical for people to come to him. Of course, they were forever pulling Emma away, which he didn’t at all appreciate.
But Eimear came and sat on his lap after the food had been eaten and the lively music had given way to the softer tunes that often marked the winding down of an O’Connor gathering.
“Papa says you’re my brother now,” Eimear said.
“I am, because I married your sister.”
“Do you like being my brother?”
He squeezed her. “I love being your brother.”
She squeezed him back. “I love being your sister.”
“Time to go home, Eimear.” Katie had arrived beside him. “It’s getting late.”
“Finbarr is my brother now, Mama. Isn’t that grand?”
“It is absolutely wonderful.”
Eimear climbed off his lap. Though Finbarr felt certain it wasn’t meant to be a signal, it proved to be one just the same. An exodus began.
Hugs and farewells and congratulations flowed from all directions. Some remembered to tell him who they were before bombarding him. He wasn’t upset with those who didn’t. It was an unusually hectic leave-taking. They could certainly be forgiven for feeling a little rushed off their feet.
Quicker than he would have guessed, the house was very nearly quiet. A swishing dress and two sets of footsteps approached the doorway where Finbarr stood.
“It’s your ma and da,” Ma said. And with no more warning than that, she put her arms around him. “We love you, Finbarr. And we’re more happy for you than we can even say.”
“So am I.”
“We know it,” Da said. “It’s clear as can be every time she’s near you.”
Ma gave him one more hug. “You two be good to each other.”
“That is the plan.”
They stepped out, the last ones to leave. Finbarr closed the door.
All was quiet. He could hear the crackle of the fire and the sound of Madra fussing with her blanket. Those were usually all he heard as night settled over the house. But a new sound, a welcome, wonderful sound, joined in with the familiar ones: Emma moving about in their home.
“I cannot decide where I want to hang my love spoon,” she said.
He followed her voice all the way to her near the fire. He could detect the tiniest hint of a shadow blocking the tiniest bit of light from the fire. And he could smell her perfume and hear her breathing. His Emma. In their home. Ready to begin a life together.
“I have had my love spoon on my desk at school,” Emma said. “The children will likely ask me over and over where it is.”
Finbarr slipped his arms around her waist, standing behind her. “I will simply have to carve you something else to keep on your desk.”
“I would like that.”
He pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Do you suppose they’ll still call you Miss Emma even though you’re Mrs. O’Connor now?”
“Considering there are dozens and dozens of Mrs. O’Connors in this town, they might simply to avoid confusion.”
He laughed, and she did the same.
“Of all the Mrs. O’Connors in town,” he said, “I am absolutely certain none were as beautiful as you today.”
“I wore a blue dress, and Ivy wove a matching blue ribbon through my hair. I don’t know if anyone told you that.”
“No, but that isn’t what I asked about you.”
Emma turned in his arms and set her hands on his chest. “What did you ask?”
“I asked if you looked happy.”
“My darling Finbarr, I have never been happier.”
“Neither have I.”
He kissed her, slowly, unhurriedly. Her hands slid up his chest, along his neck, then gently cupped his face. She met him kiss for kiss, holding to him as fervently as he held to her.
Finbarr turned his head just enough to kiss the palm of her hand once, then once again.
“I love you, Finbarr,” she said.
“And I love you, Emma. Always. And forever.”