Four Weddings and a Fireman (33 page)

“She does,” agreed Trixie. “But I've never seen her cry this much before.”

Everyone laughed, and Cherie shot her a look of pure gratitude. And then Brody was hugging her and she was thanking him, and Ginny was wheeling her chair toward them. Tears streamed down her face as well. “I always cry when I see other ­people cry,” she explained. “I can't help it.”

Cherie laughed, and that helped chase the tears away.

By the time they'd all reached Firefly, where the reception was being held, she was ready to throw herself into the party. Former Chief Roman had volunteered to man the grill and was churning out cheeseburgers and chicken wings at a rate only a party of firefighters could consume. The bar held platters of the legendary Harper family molasses-­ginger-­chocolate-­chunk cookies and Vader's favorite peanut butter brownies, which Trixie and Cherie had spent days baking.

But the real showpiece was the wedding cake, which had been donated by the Chappelle de l'Amour and could only be considered a work of art. It sat in a place of honor on a table in the middle of the dance floor, surrounded by admiring guests. It was two cakes, really, the larger one decorated to look like a house on fire, with flames made of red and orange frosting licking up the sides. The smaller cake looked exactly like a fire engine. A candy ladder linked the two cakes. On the very top of the bigger cake, a miniature fireman held a white-­gowned bride in his strong arms.

Guests sipped beer and champagne and oohed and ahhed.

Since Cherie knew the schedule inside out, she knew that her big surprise had to happen right away. She extracted herself from Vader's tight grasp. “Be right back,” she told him. She gestured to Jacob, who was manning the bar with Robbie, and Trixie, who was flirting with Ace again.

With her brother and sister at her side, Cherie made her way to the microphone that had been set up near the old fireman's pole. “Hello everyone. Thank you so much for being here on the happiest day of our lives. It means so much to me and to my wonderful, beloved husband, Vader.”

Husband.
Amazing how easily the word rolled off her tongue.

“My brother and sister have kindly offered to help me express my joy. So here we go. Introducing, for one day only, the Heavenly Harpers.”

She cleared her throat, and began to sing.

The first note
vibrated in Vader's belly as if Cherie had reached in and plucked a string he hadn't known existed. The second note sent a shivering thrill down his spine. He wasn't even sure what the words were. All he knew was that ravishing beauty existed all around him, and he'd never known it until her voice had struck the match that illuminated it.

He closed his eyes as her singing reached across the room and curled around his heart. Two other voices joined hers, one high and ethereal, like a fairy's, the other bright and vibrant, enthusiastically capering through the hushed, spellbound atmosphere.

At last, her love had come
, Cherie was singing.

And she was talking about him.

He opened his eyes to meet hers, to let the full power of his love show. But she was way ahead of him. Love radiated from her being, vibrated in each glorious note, danced around the room to include everyone present . . . and found its way to him.

He realized he was gripping someone's hand. His mother's. The look on her face must have echoed his—­incredulous bliss at witnessing something so splendid. If he hadn't already loved Cherie with every particle of his heart, he would have loved her even more, for putting that expression on his mother's face.

Later, after Cherie and Vader's first dance—­they wowed the guests with a tango they'd been rehearsing, or pretending to rehearse, when they weren't falling into bed—­Vader found himself alone with Jacob.

“You sing like a freaking angel,” he told his new brother-­in-­law. “Why don't you do it for a living?”

“Ohhh, that's what we should call ourselves. ‘Freaking Angels.' Just kidding. None of us wants to sing professionally. We do it for love, that's all. But I won't be surprised if Cherie starts using music in her work with kids.”

Vader nodded. He could picture that. He could also picture Cherie singing to their children, raising them with music and dancing and peanut butter brownies. There would be several children. He knew it, the same way he'd known Cherie was the one for him. “I've been wanting to ask you, Jacob. What's the deal with Soren and Nick?” Both members of Optimal Doom were out on the dance floor, stumbling their way through a tango with Cathy and another of Cherie's students. “Are they really such good friends of yours?”

“I know what you're really asking. You want to know why I made such an annoying pair of losers move into the house when I left.”

“Yeah.”

“To watch out for Cherie, of course. I couldn't leave my sister unprotected.”

“But
them
?” Vader watched as Soren squished Cathy's foot, making her hop around in agony. “What were they supposed to do, irritate intruders away?”

“In a way. I figured any guy who could put up with those two must really love my sister. Think of it as a labor of Hercules.” Jacob winked, and headed off to dance with Robbie, his own brand-­new spouse.

Vader had to think about that for a minute. Feats of strength were his stock in trade. Feats of putting up with irritating housemates . . . he'd never considered that.

“Frickin' Hercules,” grumbled Stud, who stood at his elbow, holding a bottle of beer. Frankly, he looked a little drunk. “It's always the big, strong guys who get the girl. Look at you, Vader. You know what girls think when they see you?”

Vader didn't care what any girl except Cherie thought, but he humored him. “What?”

“They think ‘hero.' Like Hercules. You're strong, you can lift anything, you have that manly look they go crazy over. They all want a hero. That's what they see when they look at you. If I could have just a tiny bit of what you have . . .” He trailed off, shook his head sadly, and tilted the bottle to his lips. “Ignore me. I've got a buzz on.”

Vader clapped a hand on his back. “Freddie, I'm going to get mushy right now, because it's my wedding day and I want everyone to be happy. You ready?”

Fred, looking a little alarmed, nodded.

“If the girls knew what a hero you are in here”—­he thumped Fred's chest—­“you wouldn't be able to take a step without some chick falling for you. So be careful what you wish for.”

Fred stared at him, the beer bottle stranded halfway to his mouth. Vader could practically see the wheels churning.

But now Vader had run out of patience with being separated from his bride. The need to be with Cherie propelled him across the crowded dance floor. Today, now, after everything they'd been through, he didn't want to be apart from her. As he made his way to her side, the final words from the Firefighter's Prayer echoed through his mind.

And if, according to my fate, I am to lose my life; Please bless with your protecting hand my children and my wife.

His wife
. It had been at least four minutes since he'd touched her, or even seen her. But as usual, he knew exactly where she was, without even looking. It was as if an invisible lamp glowed in her soul, lighting his way back to her.

Life was pretty simple, as it turned out. All you had to do was follow the light.

 

About the Author

Jennifer Bernard
is a graduate of Harvard and a former news promo producer. The child of academics, she confounded her family by preferring romance novels to . . . well, any other books. She left big city life for true love in Alaska, where she now lives with her husband and stepdaughters. She's no stranger to book success, as she also writes erotic novels under a naughty secret name not to be mentioned at family gatherings.

Visit www.JenniferBernard.net.

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Romances by Jennifer Bernard

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