Summer Sunsets (27 page)

“
It’s not funny,” she says.
“It’s just I can’t believe I heard the baby’s heart. She’s going to
be beautiful.” Skye peers up at me, this amazing smile on her face,
a smile I haven’t see in a long while.

“
So you think it’s a girl?”
I ask as we head toward the door.

“
I know she is.” Her hand
drifts to her tummy.

“
Care to bet?” I drape one
arm around her and use my free hand to pull open the
door.

“
Sure. But you’re going to
lose.”

“
Not a chance,” I argue,
kissing her forehead. Then again, Skye does have a sense of things
I can’t explain, and I’m more than willing to be wrong. I’d love a
little girl just like her mama, but the fact of the matter is, so
long as both Skye and the baby are safe, I’ll be happy even if we
have tiger-striped twin boys.

Chapter
Nineteen

“
Are you
nervous?”

I’m staring out one of the
windows in a small church when I hear my dad’s low voice. We’re
both sitting in a small room not far from the sanctuary, waiting
until it’s time for the wedding to start. Turning, I see he’s got
his tux on, with his tie already perfectly in place. It’s kind of
weird to see my dad dressed in a black monkey suit. He’s much more
of a jeans and t-shirt guy, like me.

“
I’m all right.” I reach up
and tug at a collar that feels like it’s strangling me.

“
Mmhmm. Sure you are.” He
pats me on the shoulder. “Just keep telling yourself
that.”

I lean against the
windowsill. “Aren’t you supposed to be here for moral support?” I
cock an eyebrow at him.

“
I am.” He nods toward my
tie. “You’re tie is crooked. Of course, you tugging at your collar
is only making it worse.” I reach to straighten it, but he brushes
my hands away. “Let me. You can’t see what you’re
doing.”

He’s got a
point
, I think and stand still to let him
have at it, hoping his hands will be steadier than mine.

He tugs at the tie to even
it out and studies my face for a minute, which feels strange.
Although my dad and I have a great relationship, it’s been a while
since we’ve really talked, and it’s been even longer since I’ve
taken a good look at his face. There’re a lot of fine wrinkles at
the corner of his eyes, and a few creases in his forehead from
frowning over things one too many times. It’s weird to think of him
getting older, but I can’t deny what’s right in front of
me.

“
So, where’s your head?” he
asks quietly. It’s his way of asking what I’m thinking.

“
Just worried about
Skye.”

He nods at my tie. “Much
better--and you’ve always worried about Skye. How is this
new?”

“
Yeah, but this is
different. It’s like between the wedding and the baby, everything’s
is so overwhelming for her, and the last thing I want to do is
drive her away.” I take a deep breath, my hand drifting toward my
tie.
“Leave that alone before you mess it up,” he says, shaking his
head. He walks to one of the nearby chairs and sits, cutting his
eyes towards another, and I get that he wants me to join him. I
sink into the other chair.

“
Dad, how did you and mom
manage?”

“
Same chaos. We wanted to be
together so much we didn’t listen to the doubts—and you can’t,
either.”

I nod slowly. “Looks like
it’s about that time.” I swallow hard, suddenly feeling an eruption
of hummingbirds in my stomach. I know I shouldn’t think it, but
part of me wonders if Skye might try to run away. It’s not that I
have doubts about how Skye feels; it’s the coping mechanism she
usually reverts to in times of crisis.

“
You ready to head out
there?” Dad nods to the door leading to the sanctuary.

“
Guess so.” I’m not.
There’re a million fears rushing through me, and none of them have
anything to do with Skye but with the promises I’m about to make. I
want to be the best husband I can, but what if I fail? What happens
then?

“
All right. Let’s go.” He
steps to the door without looking to see if I’m following. He knows
I’ll be there, hummingbirds and all.

Even before we enter
through the side door of the sanctuary, I can hear organ music
filling the air. The piece is familiar, but not overwhelmingly so.
I should know the title, but I don’t. It’s upbeat tempo and
beautiful arrangement have a soothing effect on me, and by the time
I step onto the sanctuary stage, I feel a little calmer than
before, calm enough to glance out at the handful of people who are
sitting in the audience, waiting for Skye and me to join our
lives.

While the small church Skye
has always loved has been decorated with bows and plants, the
simple honesty of light pouring through the stained glass windows
is actually the real centerpiece. Somehow Skye knew the sunlight
would be streaming through those windows at about 7 p.m., or at the
moments we’d planned to start the processional, and I find myself
staring down the aisle, waiting for her.

As I’m not wearing a watch,
I nudge my dad and ask, “How much longer?” The pastor, a man about
the same age as my father, replies, “Patience, Devin.”

Dad tugs up the sleeve of
his tux jacket to check his watch. “Should be any time.”

I nod to let him know I’ve
heard and lean my head from side to side, trying to work out the
knots in my neck. Part of me tunes out the music, and my mind
wanders to my job and other stuff that’s far less important, but
it’s my way of keeping the nerves in order, at least until I hear
the music I do know—“Canon in D.” That’s when I see Skye’s mother,
dressed in a beautiful blue, silk gown start down the
aisle.

Perhaps it’s strange Skye
picked her mom as her matron of honor and I picked my dad to be my
best man, but the truth is, both of us have never really needed
other friends, not like we’ve needed each other. Most people don’t
understand that, and I don’t care. My world is as it should be, and
that’s enough for me.

Helen ends up on the other
side of me, her hands clutching a bouquet of daisies. Her long hair
spills around her face, framing it, and in that moment, I can see
Skye in her features, and that makes me smile. It’s hard to believe
that she had a stroke so recently, and I know just how lucky Skye
is that the effects were minimal.

“
Canon in D” abruptly gives
way to the processional, and the few people in the audience, mostly
relatives on my side, stand and turn to see Skye and Warren start
down the aisle.

In that moment, my world
seems to shift as I take in the beautiful girl who has become a
woman, soon to be my wife. Her long hair flows around her, and a
simple veil covers spills down her back. The white gown is a simple
silk affair, fitted to her bosom, where it eases and flows to the
floor. Only the slightest bump of her tummy reveals the baby
nestled deep inside, and to me that makes her all the more perfect
and amazing. I’m one lucky guy. The sunlight flowing through the
stained glass windows halos both her and Warren, giving them an
ethereal appearance.

As she makes her way to the
stage, her steps are slow and uncertain, but her gaze happens
across me and locks with mine. Her eyes are wide and luminous, so
different than I expected them to be when this day finally arrived.
Then again, this Skye is different from the girl I first fell in
love with. She’s scarred and bruised from things neither of us were
able to escape, but she’s also beautiful and strong enough to
survive whatever life can throw at us. Of that, I’m
sure.

It seems to take forever
before she finally stops right in front of me, her arm entwined
with Warren’s as the pastor asks, “Who gives this woman
away?”

“
I do,” Warren responds, and
gently frees his arm from Skye’s so I can take it.

The ceremony continues, and
I don’t remember much of it. I’m pretty sure I said everything I
needed to in all the right places because suddenly the pastor tells
me to kiss my bride, and the rest of the world blurs as Skye’s dark
eyes loom closer and I touch my lips to hers, no less surprised by
the feel of them as the last time, and the time before that.
Everything seems to stop as I touch her face, my fingers whispering
across her cheeks. Even though I pull back, my hand reaches for
hers and squeezes gently. As Skye and I face the handful of people
in the sanctuary, we are being introduced as Mr. and Mrs. Devin
Abbott.

The recessional begins, and
we walk down the aisle, both looking at each other as though we’re
fifteen again. I’d like to be a teenager again, but this time I’d
find a way to do things right with Skye. Somehow I’d make it work.
That’s not possible. The best I can do is keep walking until we
slip out of the sanctuary and into the hall beyond, where we both
burst into nervous laughter as though neither of us can believe
we’ve really done this. I stare at her perfect face, which is
flushed with happiness. One hand touches her belly, as though she
expects the baby to be laughing, too.

Unable to resist her, I
slip both arms around her and draw her to me. Our gazes lock, and a
nervous breath ripples through her. “Did we really just get
married?” Her voice wavers slightly in disbelief, and I
nod.

“
Yeah, I think we did. You
got a problem with that or something?” I lean close and kiss her
ear.

“
Well, no,” she giggles and
tries to duck her chin because my kisses tickle her. “But you might
remember this is how we got Helena in the first place.”

Grinning, I reply, “Biting
your ear? That’s how you got pregnant? Boy, I can’t believe all
those coaches got that wrong.” Then the other half of what she’s
said finally dawns on me. “Helena? That’s what you want to name
her—if it’s a her?” I pull back enough to stare into her
face.

“
Yeah.” Her gaze meets mine,
and a wistfulness seems to take over her expression. “For my
mom.”

I raise my hand and brush
the hair from her eyes. “Then I guess you’d better be right about
having a girl,” I challenge, cocking an eyebrow. “As much as I love
your mother, I’m
not
naming my son Helena. Period. No way, no how.”

Skye giggles again. “It
will be. I know it.”

“
Mm-hmm.” I nod toward the
sanctuary doors. “Maybe we should get back out there before they
send a search party. Your mom was adamant about the wedding
photos.” I lean over and steal a kiss. “Although I’d much rather
just carry you out to the car and kidnap you.”

Skye takes my hand and
starts to lead me. “No, we don’t want my mom to follow us to the
apartment with photographers in tow. That wouldn’t be good. So
let’s go make her happy first.”

“
All right,” I concede, and
let her lead me away. “I’ll kidnap you later.”

Taking a deep breath, I
nudge Skye toward the doorway and head back into the church, where
the guests are standing around, waiting to see us. As I said, I see
a lot of relatives from my family, but besides Warren and Helen,
only one other person stands out, and I don’t mean stands out in a
good way.

Skye’s father, Ronald,
slouches there. Granted, he’s alone and dressed in his chinos and a
button-down shirt, but that doesn’t take back all the years of hurt
Skye suffered because of him. Nothing can take that back,
unfortunately. My back and shoulders stiffen as I see him walking
toward us. Right about now, I try to gently veer Skye to the left
so we might be able to dodge him, but no such luck, not considering
she’s seen him, too.

“
Skye,” I say in a low tone
while wrapping my arm around her more tightly. “Why don’t you let
me handle this?”

She pulls free no matter
how diligently I try to keep my arm around her. “No, I think I can
manage.”

And manage she will, I
think, because she’s folding her arms across her chest and glaring
as he steps up to meet us.

“
Skye, Devin.” He nods to
both of us. “Beautiful wedding.”

“
I didn’t even think you
knew who I was,” I mutter, stepping toward him. “Oh, that’s right.
The pastor did say my name, didn’t he?” I plan to continue, but
Skye lifts her hand and gently nudges me back.

“
Just let me handle this,
okay?” Her gaze seeks mine out, and even though I keep expecting to
see panic or hurt as usual, this time her emotions are completely
reserved, hinting she’s not going to fall into that trap
again.

“
Okay.” I take a step back,
noting the way Ronald keeps looking from her to me and back again.
“I’ll just check with the photographer about what shots he needs.”
I give Ronald one last parting look and head off to find the
photographer who’s already walking around taking shots of the
guests. He sees me approach and we talk about pictures and poses,
yet the whole time I keep looking at Skye, wondering what’s
happening over there. As the photographer and I finish our
discussion and I start back to Skye so we can get things rolling, I
see Ronald press a card into Skye’s hand and walk away. For a
moment, she stares down at the envelope in her trembling fingers,
and she looks kind of like she wants to cry, which is definitely my
cue.

I stride toward her and
slip my arm around hers. “Hey, how’s my beautiful wife?”