28. Magnolia
I rose at dawn on the morning of my wedding to Garrek. I remembered waking at dawn this way, filled with this same sort of elation, back at Fallon and Darcy’s ranch. The morning of the day I would start travelling to meet Oaken.
But it hadn’t been Oaken with me that day on the ranch at dawn. It had been Garrek, putting the half-eaten circle of soap into his pocket and carrying my bag to the shuldu.
Garrek, who would officially become my husband today.
I got ready in Oaken’s bedroom after stealing away from Garrek’s sleeping form in the cabin where I’d been spending my nights with him. I had just finished braiding my hair and then twisting the braids into a pretty, low bun at the back of my neck when heavy footsteps, quick and urgent, thundered across the floor. The door to Oaken’s bedroom flew open, and there Garrek stood, panting, eyes blazing. Now that I knew that the bright eyes were tied to emotion – any emotion, even bad ones – I hurried over to him.
“What is it?” I asked, laying a hand on his hard jaw.
“I woke and you were gone,” he said, his breath sawing in and out of him. “I woke and thought…”
“Thought what?”
“I thought you’d changed your mind.”
My throat went hot and achey.
“Oh, no, Garrek. No,” I crooned soothingly. I took his hand and pulled him fully into the room, closing the door behind him. “How could you possibly think that?” I leaned my forehead against his chest and wrapped my arms around his back. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ve been waiting a long, long time for this moment.”
It was true. I’d dreamed of my future wedding for as long as I could remember.
Of course, this wedding to Garrek would be nothing like that fantasy I’d built up inside my head. For most of my young life I’d imagined some faceless human groom. We’d be having a huge, lavish party with family and friends at some fancy location, like Longbourn Vineyard on Terratribe II.
This wasn’t an elegant winery. This was Oaken’s cabin. And my family wasn’t here. No one was allowed to travel to this penal colony except convicts, wardens, supply pilots, and brides.
I didn’t even have a dress. That dress was currently hanging on Garrek’s broad shoulders, reshaped and reborn. I couldn’t think of any better use for what had once been my wedding dress than to protect this man I loved, to hold his scars in the symbolic embrace of its lace.
Garrek’s arms clamped around my back and squeezed.
I’d taught him well. The man was a damn good hugger.
“If I didn’t want to marry you,” I said after a long moment of listening to his heartbeat, “would I have gotten you a wedding gift?”
Garrek released me from his hold, though with a slowness that hinted at reluctance.
“Don’t look so suspicious!” I said, meeting his frown with a bright smile. “I made it myself.”
“More soap?”
“Nope! Not this time,” I said gleefully, excitement building as I bent to retrieve it from where I’d put it under Oaken’s bed. “I made it while I was recovering in here. I made one for Killian, too, but his is a shuldu.”
I straightened and turned, holding the soft gift up for inspection.
Garrek bent so that my offered hand was at his eye level.
“It’s…” His voice trailed off as his gaze – now returned to shades of amethyst and slate – took in the plush yarn body, the flat tail, and the shiny beads for eyes.
“It’s a beaver!” I cried, unable to hold it in any longer. God, this felt so good. Like Christmas morning. Not that Garrek would have a single clue as to what Christmas was.
“I crocheted it!” I told him. “Here! Take it! ”
With some trepidation, he did so, being oh so careful of his claws.
“It’s what I was telling you about before. The stuffed animals. It was a while ago now-”
“I remember.” Garrek wasn’t looking at me, but at the round-bodied beaver sitting its fat little butt in the curve of his upturned palm. Then, he lifted it higher, placing it in the front pocket of the white vest. His jaw ticked as he looked down at his pocket, and he reached in, rearranging, until the beaver’s big, shiny eyes were poking out.
“There,” Garrek said. I perked up, thinking he was about to say something else to me, but then just about dissolved into a puddle of goo when I realized he wasn’t talking to me at all. “You’ll be able to see the wedding better like this.”
I didn’t ask him if he liked his gift. His gruff words spoken to the beaver, the careful placement in the pocket, told me everything I needed to know.
Outside the bedroom, Oaken and Killian were bent over his tablet at the table.
“Hold on, Warden,” Oaken was muttering, sliding the tablet around the table like it was part of an Old-Earth Ouija board. “Your signal isn’t clear.”
“Let me do it!” Killian interjected. Before Oaken could pull the tablet away, Killian had seized it with his tail. He clambered up onto the table, stood in the very centre of it, and then held the tablet up in his hands.
“Ah! There you are, Warden!” Oaken said with a broad smile. “Well done, Killian. You’re like a little data tower! ”
Killian’s chest puffed up, clearly feeling quite proud of the importance of his new job as the wedding-tablet-holder.
I loved it. I loved that he had something to make him feel included. He was just as important to this story, to this family, as either Garrek or I were.
“Oaken,” came the warden’s authoritative rumble of a voice through the tablet’s speakers. His broad, violet-skinned face came into view. But not for long, as a sudden cacophony of human shrieking broke out behind him and it appeared as if the tablet was violently wrenched from him by a much smaller pair of human hands.
“Darcy!” I cried, hurrying over to the table and looking up into the tablet Killian was holding in front of him. “Can you see me?”
“Yes! Yes, I see you! Hi, gorgeous!” Darcy cried. Her green eyes widened, her beautiful freckled face splitting into a big smile. And then Cherry was there, too, bopping her way into the frame and waving madly.
“Hello, Magnolia!” came the familiar, amiable boom of Fallon’s voice. I could see a bit of his yellow hair and orange ears from behind my two friends. Silar was nothing but a sliver of golden shoulder beside Cherry, as if he didn’t really care to be involved except for the fact that his wife was there and he wouldn’t be caught dead without her. I was fairly certain Cherry elbowed him then, because he suddenly made an effort to dip half-an-ear into view and mutter something that sounded like a gruff, “Congratulations.”
It did my heart so much good to see my friends. Cherry and Darcy both had suspiciously shiny eyes and I found myself laughing and swiping at my own. Oh, God. The wedding hadn’t even started and I was already about to start sobbing. Garrek tightly held my fingers with his.
“Magnolia?”
I turned, sniffing hard, towards Oaken. In his hands he held a small glass jar which was filled with water and a few tufts of tall, green grass poking out from the top.
“I read in the book the warden sent to my tablet that it is customary for a bride to have a bouquet,” he said.
“A bouquet of… grass?” I asked, taking the jar from him.
Oaken looked confused, then crestfallen. “Blast. Is that not right? The translation was not very clear. It only mentioned a bouquet of plant matter.”
My heart was going to crumple into a tiny, papery ball if he kept looking so sad about my weird little wedding bouquet.
“It’s perfect!” I exclaimed at the exact same moment that Darcy piped up, “It’s supposed to be flowers!”
“Flowers,” Oaken repeated. Then he brightened up. “One moment.”
He limped across the kitchen and pulled open a cupboard door.
“I replaced my supplies after you used them all,” he said. His supplies of what, I had no idea.
Until he turned around with three purple flowers clenched in his fist. He hobbled back to me and added them among the grass. He did a pretty good freaking job. Very artfully arranged.
“These are the same flowers that…”
“That saved your life,” Oaken confirmed.
My heart nearly stopped. They looked just like…
Magnolias.
“Thank you, Oaken!” I gasped. I threw myself against him in a sideways, one-armed hug, not wanting to upend my bouquet. Oaken stiffened, and I could feel him looking over my head at Garrek for instructions on what to do.
“It’s called a hug,” Garrek said. “You’re meant to do it back.”
Oaken mirrored my pose, putting one arm around me and leaving the other dangling awkwardly at his side. He wasn’t currently holding his crutch, but he didn’t seem to understand that he was allowed to use both arms.
But it didn’t matter much. It was still a good hug to me.
Although Garrek didn’t let it go on very long.
“Alright,” he growled. His tail looped around my waist, pulling me back to his side. “That’s enough.”
“Impatient, Garrek?” came the warden’s voice. His purple face shoved back into view as he reclaimed possession of his tablet. “Ready to get started?”
“Yes,” Garrek answered instantly. I looked up at him, at his hard face in profile, so focused, so sure.
“And you, Magnolia?” the warden asked.
With one hand holding my precious bouquet-in-a-jar and the other reaching down to squeeze Garrek’s, I met the warden’s orange-tinted gaze through the screen in Killian’s claws.
“Yes,” I vowed. Just as Garrek had. “I’m ready.”
Thank you so much for reading Magnolia and Garrek’s story!