43. Jamie
Chapter forty-three
Jamie
Forever Begins
The drive home is quieter than I expected, the kind of silence that comes after a day too beautiful for words to improve it. Headlights carve through the familiar road toward Briar Cove while the last hints of sunset fade behind the trees.
Every few miles I catch myself glancing at my left hand resting on the steering wheel.
The simple silver band catches the dashboard lights.
My wedding ring.
I still can't quite believe it's there.
Beside me, Annette smiles to herself.
Not because I've said anything.
Because every few minutes she looks down at her own hand and does exactly what I've been doing.
She turns it ever so slightly, watching the diamond catch the light before shaking her head with a tiny laugh.
"What?" I ask.
"We're married."
I grin.
"We are."
Neither of us says anything after that.
We don't have to.
A few minutes later I reach across the console. She slips her hand into mine before my fingers even reach hers, like she's been waiting.
We lace our fingers together and leave them there while the truck hums quietly along the empty roads.
Outside, the stars begin appearing one by one above the dark pines.
Inside...everything feels wonderfully still.
The porch light is already glowing when the cabin comes into view.
Home.
I park beside the porch but neither of us moves right away.
Annette lets out a slow breath.
"We're home."
I nod.
"We are."
For another heartbeat we simply sit there.
Then I climb out and walk around to her side of the truck.
She places her hand in mine as she steps down, gathering the skirts of her dress with her free hand.
Up close, I finally have a chance to really look at her.
Not as my bride standing at the end of an aisle.
Not while everyone else was watching.
Just...
Her.
The ivory satin catches the porch light with a soft glow.
Delicate lace traces her shoulders before giving way to a graceful lace-covered back, where a long row of tiny pearl buttons disappears down the fitted bodice.
The skirt falls in gentle layers that whisper around her feet every time she moves.
She is...
Beautiful isn't a big enough word.
She catches me staring.
"What?"
I shake my head slowly. "I don't think I've taken a full breath since you walked into that chapel."
A blush warms her cheeks.
"You've had all afternoon."
"I've been distracted."
The smile she gives me nearly steals what's left of my heart.
She reaches up and smooths the front of my jacket. "My husband."
I don't think either of us has ever liked two words more.
The cabin sits quietly behind us. The lake laps gently against the dock. Somewhere in the trees an owl calls into the evening.
No applause.
No music.
No voices.
Just the sound of home waiting.
I glance toward the front door.
***
"There's one wedding tradition we haven't done yet."
Her eyebrows lift.
"Oh?"
I slide one arm behind her knees and the other around her back.
Her eyes widen.
"Jamie—"
Before she can protest, I lift her easily into my arms.
She laughs—a bright, surprised laugh that echoes across the porch.
"My dress!"
"I've got you."
“Your physical therapist would have something to say about this.”
“My physical therapist married me.”
She laughs. “That doesn't make you medically invincible.”
Still laughing, she rests her forehead against mine.
"You're impossible."
"You married me anyway."
"I absolutely did."
I nudge the front door open with my shoulder.
As I carry her across the threshold, the cabin greets us with the warm glow of a single lamp I'd left burning that morning.
With my foot as helper, the door swings shut behind us with a soft click.
And for the first time since this day began...
We are completely alone.
***
For a long moment neither of us moves.
The cabin is exactly as I left it this morning.
The stone fireplace.
The familiar quilt folded across the back of the sofa.
The scent of cedar and coffee that somehow always lingers in the air.
Only one thing is different.
Us.
I slowly lower Annette to her feet.
Neither of us lets go.
Our hands remain linked between us as we simply stand there, smiling like two people who still aren't entirely convinced today actually happened.
Finally, she laughs.
She lifts her left hand again, turning it toward the lamplight. "I think I've looked at this thing a hundred times."
"Only a hundred?"
She grins. "What about you?"
"I've been trying not to drive into a ditch."
Her laugh fills the cabin, warm and unguarded.
Oh Man...I'm going to spend the rest of my life trying to hear that sound as often as possible.
Her gaze wanders around the room.
To the stone fireplace. The bookshelves. The windows overlooking the lake.
Then she notices something on the table by the door. The wooden sign. She walks toward it slowly.
I follow a few steps behind.
Her fingers brush lightly across the painted letters.
THE WALKERS
I smile, “I not only carried you inside, I grabbed that from behind the seat as well. I thought it needed a place of honor as soon as we got home. Like Noah told me, every family needs a sign."
She doesn't speak right away. Then she whispers, almost to herself, "The Walkers. Annette Walker."
I step beside her. "How does it sound?"
She turns toward me, the tears already shining in her eyes answer before she does.
"It sounds..."
She shakes her head, laughing softly through those tears.
"...like I've been searching for it my whole life."
I wrap my arms around her and she melts against me without hesitation, resting her cheek against my chest.
Neither of us speaks.
The quiet isn't empty.
It's peaceful.
The kind of peace I'd spent years convincing myself didn't exist.
***
After another minute she tips her head back and smiles.
"I should probably get out of this dress before I wrinkle it beyond repair."
"I was hoping you'd keep it on forever."
She raises one eyebrow. “Really, Jamie?” And I admit I have to blush myself.
"You know how many buttons are on the back?"
"I noticed there were a few."
She laughs. "A few?"
"There may have been...several."
"Hundreds."
"I counted at least twelve."
She smiles mischievously. "You were looking?"
I stare at her with exaggerated innocence. "I am a married man. I believe looking is now encouraged."
She laughs again, that beautiful laugh that still feels like a gift every time I hear it.
"Come on."
She turns, lifting her hair over one shoulder. "I may need some help."
I stop breathing.
The elegant sweep of her gown leaves most of her back framed by delicate lace that rests lightly across her shoulders. A single row of tiny pearl buttons appears from between her shoulder blades to well below her waist.
She glances back at me.
"Jamie?"
"Sorry."
Her smile grows. "You forgot how buttons work?"
"I forgot how words work."
Color warms her cheeks.
"So..."
"So?"
"Are you going to help your wife?"
My wife. I don't think those two words will ever stop affecting me.
I step behind her, my fingers find the first tiny pearl button at the top of her dress.
Deliberately. Carefully. Unhurriedly.
One by one...I begin setting her free from the longest, happiest day of our lives.
The first pearl button slips free beneath my fingers.
Then the second.
Then the third.
I work slowly, partly because they're impossibly small...
...and partly because I don't want to rush a single moment of today.
Annette stands perfectly still in front of me, one hand gathering the thick waves of her hair over her shoulder.
"I had no idea there were this many buttons," I murmur.
She smiles without turning around.
"I did."
"You still bought the dress."
"It was the dress."
"I understand."
"Do you?"
"I would've bought it too."
A soft laugh escapes her. "Even knowing you'd be the one undoing all these?"
"I would've considered them an investment."
She laughs again, shaking her head. "You are unbelievably smooth for a hockey player."
"I've had excellent motivation lately."
The last button slips free.
For just a second, neither of us moves.
Then she turns slowly to face me.
“Thank you.”
I brush a loose curl away from her face.
“I didn't do much.”
“You did.”
Her eyes soften. “You've been taking care of me all day.”
I was under the impression that was part of the job description.”
"For husbands?"
"For this husband."
She reaches up and loosens my tie. "I think wives have duties too."
"Oh?"
"I believe so."
With practiced fingers she slides the knot down until my tie hangs loose around my neck.
"There."
"I can breathe again."
"You looked very handsome."
"Past tense?"
She laughs. "You still do."
One by one she slips my cuff links free, setting them carefully on the table.
My jacket follows. Then my tie drops. She smooths the front of my shirt with both hands.
Neither of us kisses the other. Not yet.
We simply stand there, breathing the same quiet air.
No hurry. No expectations. No audience.
Just a husband...and his wife.
Finally, Annette glances toward the hallway.
"I should probably rescue this dress before gravity wins."
"I'll be right here."
"I know."
She hesitates. Then smiles. "My husband."
The words catch me completely off guard.
She says them so naturally, as though she'd been saying them for years.
"My wife," I answer.
Her smile brightens and disappears down the hallway, carefully gathering the skirts of her gown.
I watch until she vanishes around the corner.
***
Only then do I finally let out the breath I've apparently been holding since she walked into that chapel today.
I glance toward the fireplace. The cabin feels different tonight. Not because anything has changed. Because everything has.
For years I'd walked through this front door after road trips, practices, surgeries, and long nights wondering if hockey was all my life would ever be.
Tonight...I came home with my wife. The thought settles over me with a quiet certainty that cements the smile on my face.
I don't hear her footsteps. I simply look up.
And there she is. Gone is the wedding gown. In its place she's wearing a simple ivory satin camisole and matching lounge pants.