Authors: Sherryl Woods
Heather could hear Megan’s delighted response, and then Mick was on the phone demanding to speak to her. Connor handed her the phone.
“It’s about time, young lady,” he said enthusiastically. “Welcome to the family!”
“You’ve made me feel like an O’Brien all along,” she told him, misty-eyed by the thought of being a part of this wonderful family forever.
“Well, now it will be official. Why don’t the two of you come right over here, so we can get started on the wedding plans?”
Heather smiled at the suggestion. She’d heard that Mick was never one to waste time. “Now might not be the best time,” she told him, her gaze on Connor.
Apparently Connor figured out what his father wanted because he took back the phone. “Not tonight,” he said pointedly. “See you tomorrow, and thanks for keeping little Mick.”
He hung up and turned back to her, his expression sur
prisingly hesitant. “We’re really going to do this? We’re going to get married?”
“Unless you’re already having second thoughts,” she said.
He crawled back into bed beside her and wrapped her in his arms. “Not a chance. This is it for me. I want nights exactly like this for the rest of our lives.” He winced, then amended, “Well, maybe not exactly like this.”
She snuggled closer, regretting that they couldn’t do more. “Me, too.”
Connor had been right, after all. Sometimes things became clear only after you got back to basics.
C
onnor was never sure if Mick had bribed the priest or if Gram had used her powers of persuasion, but he finally agreed to perform the wedding in a far more timely manner than he’d originally insisted was possible. If it had been up to Connor, they could have skipped the whole elaborate church thing, but Bridget had her heart set on it, and, to be honest, he’d seen that Heather wanted it as well. Since he couldn’t deny her anything, he’d gone along with the big production.
Now that he was standing in the front of the small church, which Bree and Gram had filled with flowers and decorated with candles, he was glad he hadn’t said no. There was something solemn about the moment that made it all feel much more real. He felt hopeful, too, something he hadn’t anticipated. And scared senseless, which he had definitely anticipated.
“You okay?” Kevin asked, regarding him worriedly. “You’re not going to pass out or bolt, are you?”
“Not a chance,” Connor said, his gaze on the back of the church.
When the music began, he watched impatiently as little Mick wobbled his way down the aisle with the rings, Davy
and Henry on either side to keep him from getting distracted and taking off with them. Then came Carrie and Caitlyn, looking so grown-up and pleased with themselves in their long satin dresses. Laila and Connie were next as Heather’s maids of honor. He noted that Connie’s gaze kept straying to Uncle Thomas, who was seated with the ushers.
And then the music swelled and Heather was standing there in a simple, unadorned white satin dress that made her look as willowy and elegant as a model. She quite literally took his breath away, just as she’d been doing since the day they’d met.
So this was why people did this, he thought, awestruck. In a single moment, he was captivated by an image that would stay with him forever. This beautiful woman, the mother of his child, was going to be his wife.
And astonishingly, in that instant, he realized there was nothing the least bit terrifying about it. In fact, nothing had ever felt more right.
Heather had been in a daze for most of the past couple of months. Once she was finally out of the cast and back on her feet, wedding preparations had occupied every spare minute. Bridget and Megan had taken over most of them, organizing the event with the determined precision of some kind of strategic commander in the military. She had only to show up for fittings with the dressmaker and tastings with the caterers and viewings of the flower arrangements Bree had designed. Even at that, it had been a little overwhelming.
She’d fully expected Connor to bolt amid all the cra
ziness, but he hadn’t. He’d been steadfast and amazingly upbeat.
Even now, as he waited for her at the front of the church, there wasn’t the slightest hint of panic in his eyes. In fact, if anyone was nervous, it was her father, who kept looking at her as if they’d just been introduced.
“I’m still trying to figure out when you went and grew up on me,” he said, his eyes damp with tears. “You’ve turned into a beautiful young woman, Heather. And you’ve obviously made a good life for yourself here. Connor’s a lucky man.”
“Thank you,” she said, blinking back her own tears. Sensitive to her mother’s feelings, she’d been torn about including her father in the wedding, but her mother had been adamant. “He’s your father. You should ask him, if you want him here. I’ll be fine. And it’s past time he met his grandson.”
Still, Heather had hesitated. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”
“I think we can get along for a day or two,” her mother said. “We managed it for years.”
“Have you told him yet that you’re going to be staying on here?” she’d asked her.
Bridget shook her head. “I thought we could get into it after the wedding.”
Heather asked one more thing of her mother before she made the call to invite him. “Do you think he’d sing at the wedding?”
“I think he’d be pleased if you asked,” her mother said.
And he had been.
Now, though, Charles Donovan ran a finger around
the collar of his tuxedo shirt. “You sure you want me to sing before you say your vows?” he asked nervously. “Mostly I sing down at the pub. Folks there aren’t expecting much.”
She smiled at his modesty, knowing her mother wouldn’t have credited him with the voice of an angel if it weren’t true. “I’m a hundred percent certain,” she told him.
“And that’s the song you want?
When Irish Eyes Are Smiling?
”
She nodded. “With two Irish families, it seems fitting,” she told him. “And if this marriage goes the way I intend it to, Connor and I will be smiling together for a very long time.”
“Okay, then,” her father said.
She drew on his strength as she walked down the aisle. Though she’d been out of her cast and doing physical therapy for a few weeks now, she didn’t trust her leg, but looking into Connor’s eyes and trusting in her father’s steadiness, she practically glided to the front of the church.
Her father put her hand into Connor’s, then walked to the side of the altar to stand next to the organist. When he began to sing, his voice soared through the small church. He met Heather’s gaze, but then he turned to Bridget and sang the rest of the song to her. There was no question in Heather’s mind that it was an entreaty, saying in words he couldn’t find on his own, that he wanted to make whatever had gone wrong between them right again.
Hearing that in his voice, seeing the unmistakable love in his eyes, Heather felt doubly blessed. Not only was this her wedding day, but perhaps it would be a fresh start
with a new perspective for her parents as well. It was a long shot, but today was definitely a day for dreams to come true.
Driftwood Cottage was bathed in moonlight. Heather and Connor had made the decision to spend their wedding night here, in the house that would be their home. There were still a few final touches to be completed, but Mick had called in extra men to make sure it would be mostly ready for them.
Standing on the porch, Connor looked into Heather’s eyes. “We’re finally home,” he said quietly. “And you look more beautiful than I’ve ever seen you. What’s the old song—something about moonlight becoming you? You look radiant.”
“I feel like a bride,” she said, a smile on her lips. “Thank you for giving me this moment, for giving me a day like today.”
“I should have done it long ago,” Connor said. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“I think most people, if they have any sense at all, are a little scared by the idea of marriage, but you had more reasons than most to be afraid.”
“Maybe so, but I had you. I knew the kind of person you are. I knew what we had. This decision should have been easy.”
“Well, you made it eventually, and we’re here now,” she said. “Are we going to go inside? I think the wedding night tradition is the one part of all this hoopla that might appeal to you the most.”
Connor laughed. “No question about it,” he said, inserting the key into the lock and opening the door. He
scooped her up and carried her across the threshold, then kicked the door closed behind them. Then, without hesitation, he carried her up the steps and into the master suite.
He’d left the wedding night decor of the room to his sister. Jess had a real romantic streak, and, thanks to the honeymoon suite at her inn, she was an old hand at getting all the touches just right.
Sure enough, there were white rose petals scattered across the bed, which was covered with one of Heather’s quilts—a wedding ring pattern, if he wasn’t mistaken. A bottle of champagne was chilling in a bucket on a tray with two crystal flutes. There was even a tray of hors d’oeuvres, including chocolate-dipped strawberries. Every surface held an array of candles just waiting to be lit. The cooperative moon spilled its silvery light through the windows.
Heather’s eyes sparkled as she looked around. “Connor, it’s absolutely beautiful.”
“Are you glad you waited to see it?” he asked.
She nodded. “You got every detail exactly right.”
“You can thank Jess for all the little wedding night touches.”
“I’ll definitely do that.” She glanced around. “Do you suppose she put my negligee in here?”
Connor grinned. “You won’t need it for long, but I believe it’s in the bathroom. Why don’t we have a glass of champagne first?”
Her gaze held his. “Why don’t we?” she agreed in a breathless whisper.
He poured the champagne, then led the way to a love-seat tucked into the nook of the room’s large bay window.
When they were seated, he looked into her eyes and saw his soul reflected there.
“We’re going to be happy here. I promise you that. I will do everything in my power to make sure you never regret marrying me.”
“That’s the promise I should be making,” she told him. “We’re going to make this work, Connor. We’re going to beat every depressing divorce statistic and be married for fifty years.”
“Longer,” he corrected at once. “It’s taken me a while to get there, but I do believe that.”
And when he leaned in to kiss his bride on this night that would be the start of their journey, he knew with every fiber of his being that they would make it a good one.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-8736-9
DRIFTWOOD COTTAGE
Copyright © 2011 by Sherryl Woods
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