Chapter 22 #2
I could tell he was frowning in confusion even though I couldn’t see him clearly in the darkness. I just knew every line, every curve of his handsome face by then, the way his different muscles twitched or stiffened depending on his reaction.
“To get married,” I told him. “I don’t want a big, elaborate wedding. Who would I invite anyway? I don’t have any family. And you don’t have any family outside of Dawes House that you’d want to invite except Cora. So why wait?”
He chuckled, the deep rumble in his chest vibrating against my cheek. “Using my own words against me. Well played.”
“Speaking of Cora, when do I get to meet her?” I pressed, eager to know this sister if she was someone important to Whit, someone who could help fill in the gaps about my beloved’s past that was still something of a mystery. “Will she come to the wedding? Where does she live?”
He tilted his head, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I didn’t realize you’d be so interested in her.”
“Of course I’m interested! If she’s important to you, then she’s important to me.”
He pulled me back into his arms. “Then you’ll definitely get to meet her. But she lives in England, so it might be a while. And she’s not a fan of Dawes House, so we’ll probably have to visit her there.”
“Works for me,” I assured him, snuggling closer.
“Now,” he prompted, “about this wedding…”
“Would you be disappointed if we didn’t have anything fancy?” I asked, suddenly worried that perhaps I hadn’t considered what he had envisioned for us.
“No,” he said, drawing me closer. “How could I be disappointed? I want you to be my wife, Zellie. I don’t care if we get married at the courthouse or at the cathedral in Rome. I just don’t want you to be disappointed.”
“I feel the same way,” I told him. “All that matters is that we’re together.
The three of us.” I waited a beat before adding, “That’s why I also don’t want to take a honeymoon just yet, if that’s okay.
I mean, Henry starts school next week. I don’t want to disrupt his routine so soon or be away from him very long. ”
Whit kissed the top of my head. “Whatever you want. We can take a trip later, just the three of us. Anywhere in the world you want to go. Just tell me when and where. And I’ll make it happen.”
I shifted positions so that I was stretched out on top of him, and kissed him, my heart singing with joy. And when he took hold of my hips, urging me to my knees and guiding me back down slowly, I exhaled a long, satisfied sigh as I took the full length of him inside me.
Had anyone asked me years ago when I was lying on a dingey cot, cold and scared, in a church basement that doubled as a homeless shelter if I thought I would one day marry someone like Whit, that all my dreams would come true, I would’ve laughed in their faces—and then would’ve cried myself to sleep that night, angry and humiliated that they’d thought happiness was so out of my reach.
Whit was true to his word. Three weeks later as the air became a little cooler with Savannah’s version of autumn, we were married in the garden of Dawes House, surrounded by the residents—our family—and Dottie. It was small, intimate. Perfect.
That day before, June and Earl cut dozens of flowers from their gardens, weaving garlands that she strung up around the patio and wrapped around the single lamppost in the yard, centerpieces for the bistro and picnic tables, and a small bouquet of crimson roses for me to carry.
There was even a basket of crimson petals for Henry and Addie to sprinkle ahead of me as Junior led me down the walk to where Whit waited with Pearlie and June who were to perform the ceremony.
The love in his eyes was so deep, my own eyes stung as tears of joy blurred my vision.
And then he took my hand and drew me to him, and—
A horrific image assaulted me so powerfully, it made me wince and suck in air through my teeth. It was Whit, bloodied, beaten, broken. Then a subsequent barrage of images followed, passing too quickly to fully understand. I could only catch glimpses—fire, hooded figures, blood on my hands.
“Zellie?” Whit whispered, his concern cutting through and pulling me back to the present.
“I’m okay,” I said quickly, breathless. “I’m sorry. Sudden pain in my temple. It’s gone now.”
He cupped my face in his hands, searching my eyes, concerned. “Are you sure? We don’t have to do this today.”
I gave him a shaky smile. “Yes, we do.”
He lowered his head to kiss me, but Pearlie placed a hand on his shoulder. “Hang on now. Getting a little ahead of yourselves…”
Whit chuckled and pressed his forehead against mine for a moment then straightened, smoothing the front of his suit and giving Pearlie a curt, solemn nod. “Yes, ma’am.”
Pearlie lifted a long length of gauzy crimson fabric and raised it to chest level, draping it over her open palms.
“Today I bind your hands together, Whitman Proffitt and Zellie Dupont, symbolizing the union of two souls as one. May this handfasting represent the love that brought you together, the bond of the vows that unite you. May your love be strong enough to last for eternity and beyond.”
She wound the material around our clasped hands so that it created the infinity symbol, a perfect figure eight.
My stomach fluttered with nerves when I momentarily forgot what was supposed to happen next.
The ceremony wasn’t the typical one I’d seen on TV or read about in books.
Whit had shared with me that the ceremony had been passed down through generations and was part of his family’s tradition, so I had readily agreed to honor that since it seemed to mean a lot to him.
And although Whit was familiar with the traditions of his family, I’d never been to a Proffitt family wedding, obviously. In fact, I’d never been to any wedding.
But then Whit gently pressed my hand and drew me ever so slightly closer as June stepped forward to cover our hands with hers and bless our union, first in English with a prayer that evoked the creator of all, and then with an ethereal song in the language of the song she had taught Addie and Henry.
I didn’t understand it, but I knew it was beautiful.
Whit had loosely translated it for me the previous day so that I would understand what was being said but assured me it lost something in the translation.
Hearing it now, the emotion in June’s voice, brought tears to my eyes.
When the song ended, June took a step back and inclined her head, signaling Whit.
He then turned his eyes to me, the love I saw there steady and sure. “Zellie Dupont, you are the one I choose to share all that I have, all that I am. You are blood of my blood, bone of my bone. My love for you is eternal.”
My throat tightened with emotion as I repeated the words. “Whitman Proffitt, you are the one I choose to share all that I have, all that I am. You are blood of my blood, bone of my bone. My love for you is eternal.”
Pearlie then removed the crimson ties and took the thin wedding bands of braided platinum that Whit had commissioned, pausing to hold them in her hands and offer a silent blessing upon them before handing them to us to place on the other’s finger.
Whit lifted my hand and pressed a kiss to my ring, then glanced at Pearlie.
She just chuckled and waved her hand. “Yes, yes, go ahead and kiss your bride now, honey.”
The rest of the day was a blur of warmth and happiness. And later that night when Whit and I stood naked on the veranda of his home near Charleston, his arms wrapped around me, letting the warm ocean breeze caress our bare skin, I finally knew the peace that I’d always dreamed of.
“I want to stay here forever,” I said softly as if speaking the words too loudly would shatter some fragile dream that was too precious to last for long. “Just like this.”
His arms around me tightened, and he dropped a kiss on my shoulder. “You’ll get no argument from me. However, the rest of the world might have something to say about it.”
I leaned into him and closed my eyes, listening to the waves break gently on the beach below. “Hmm…well, I guess we’ll just have to come here and do this often.”
“Well, Mrs. Proffitt,” he said with a mischievous grin, “I plan to do this—” He suddenly swept me off my feet and into his arms. “—as often as I can.”
I laughed as he carried me back to his bed—our bed—and pulled him down with me, wrapping my arms and legs around him as his lips captured mine.
And when his mouth left mine to trail kisses down my throat, nip gently at my breasts, trace a path down my belly, I sighed contentedly and gave myself over to the pleasure.
“Oh, yes,” I gasped as his mouth continued to explore, “definitely often.”