THE WEDDING

jenthegypsy

Part 1 – We Are Gathered Here to Witness

James didn't do awkward.

The circumstances of his life had rarely conspired to place him in a situation which could be referred to as remotely uncomfortable, much less awkward. Save that misunderstanding during his first voyage as Midshipman, when he had sounded the alarm, "Man Overboard!" without first confirming that it had been,
in fact, a man overboard, as opposed to a woman (Captain Hearnin's wife, to be exact), and that drowning had been the emergency, as opposed to – whatever the good captain's wife had been up to with the Second Lieutenant, there in the moonlit waters of the Mediterranean.

Waiting here in front of the altar, standing as witness for the man who was about to marry his former fiancé, with the Governor escorting the lady in question down the aisle toward them – now this was awkward. It was all that he could do to keep his upper lip stiff and his spine ramrod straight. It was all he could do not to cut and run.

But James was a man of honor, first and foremost, and he felt a vague fondness for the boy rescued from the wreckage-strewn waters of the Caribbean so many years ago, the fledgling he had taken under wing to school in the art of the sword, the novice who had ultimately surpassed the master. And yes, the man who had consorted with pirates and faced the undead in order to save the life of his heart's love.

With a small sigh, James gave a nod and a wistful smile of encouragement to William and turned to meet awkward head on.

Part 2 – Who Gives This Woman

She was, after all, his only child, the very heart of his soul and the last vestige of his beloved wife, gone these many years. Was it any wonder that tears came to his eyes as he gazed upon her now, resplendent in pearl adorned white satin and fine French lace, hair turned to spun gold by the late morning sun?

He pressed to memory her every feature as they made their way slowly down the aisle, blending images of the woman she had become with those of the child she had been. Would always be.

In his heart.

Part 3 – Do You Take This Woman

"Pirate is in your blood, boy, so you'll have to square with that some day."

The words led themselves a merry chase through the fog of Will's mind as he watched Elizabeth approach on the arm of her father. A slight nod of encouragement from the Commodore did little to settle his nerves, and a new set of words began playing ring-around-the-rosy in his head:

"After all, he is a blacksmith."

"No, he's a pirate."

He's a pirate. He's a pirate.

But that was wrong. He wasn't a pirate. He was a blacksmith; a man of earth and fire to Elizabeth's wind and sea, comfortable in the close confines of the forge, lost on the vast open waters which she had come to love. He had done what he had to do in order to save her, and to save Jack. He had no further need of pirates or adventures, or of the high seas that both sailed upon.

Pirate was in his blood, yes, but so was hearth and home, thanks to his dear mother. He had come to realize, of late, that what he wanted above all else was this: a humble home filled with simple pleasures and the laughter of children, shared with a woman who was not always looking to the horizon.

He had loved Elizabeth since he was a boy, from the moment that he woke to find her watching over him on the deck of his rescue, her hand brushing the damp hair from his forehead and the black despair from his heart.

He had loved her, but had not known her, any more than he had known himself.

Part 4 –Do You Take This Man

Faces!

Everywhere she looked, she saw faces. And they were looking at her, every last one of them.

Here was her dear father, absently patting her hand as they walked together toward the altar, looking as though his heart would break from joy and from loss at the same time. She saw James, making a good show of it all, considering the role he was originally set to play, that silly-sweet half smile on his lips, but nothing in his eyes.

She answered with a small, tight smile of her own, and then tried to focus on Will.

But her gaze continued to travel over those who filled the church, the Jamaican elite and common folk alike, come to see the Governor's headstrong daughter wed the lowly blacksmith.

Though she told herself not to, she glanced at each less than familiar visage, seeking evidence of a clever disguise, amusement lighting the Devil's own eyes, or the glint of gold in a hastily masked grin.

She knew he would not be here, but wished that he were; wished for a bold rescue or a quiet one, for any glimpse of him to give her back the dream of freedom, sprung from the dancing shadows of an island fire and the murmured welcome of a phantom ship.

A dream that had faded as she stepped from ship to unyielding shore and into the arms of the man she had once thought she loved.

Part 5 – If There Be Any Man Here

It was almost over. Only a few words were left in the traditional ceremony, before the "I now pronounce you…" led to the "You may kiss the…" and all was said and done. A collective sigh gathered itself in the chests of those present, waiting to be released. Just a few more words….

"If there be any man here who knows why this man and this woman should not be joined together in Holy Matrimony here in this company and before the Eyes of God…"

There was not a breath, a wriggle or a blink among those in attendance. Nothing stirred, not even a breeze through the open windows. Every muscle of every body tensed in anticipation of something, as the moment eased toward passing.

"Let him speak now or forev - - - "

The doors to the church burst open and two Marines raced in, faces distorted by pure panic. "Fire!" one of the soldiers cried. "Fire at the Governor's mansion!"

ooooo

There wasn't really a fire at the Governor's mansion, of course, only a few barrels stuffed with oakum and set to a smoky burn behind the courtyard wall. Just as the two Marines weren't really Marines at all, which anyone would have known, had they had the sense to note the disreputable shoes that the men were wearing along with the deplorable fit of their uniforms.

But it was an inspired diversion, and a diversion is, after all, nothing more than the efforts of one man to realign the stars, thus creating for himself his very own opportune moment.

Part 6 – Let No Man Put Asunder

"Really, Jack! Smoldering barrels of oakum? Thatwas your idea for a grand rescue? It won't fare very well in the telling, I'm afraid. Certainly not worthy ofTales of the Legendary Captain Jack Sparrow, a subject in which I am quite well versed, I might add."

"Worthy or not, lass, the prize was gained and none hurt but the pride of that little Lieutenant of the Commodore's. The lad seems to have taken quite a dislike to me, more's the pity, though I cannot fathom the reason. Still in all, a stroke of luck, him keepin' an eye on the Governor's lovely home today, was it not?"

"More than a stroke of luck, I suspect, though I've yet to puzzle it all out. What comes to mind seems...impossible, to say the least."

"Improbable, darling, not impossible. A thing is never impossible, if it is wanted bad enough, and if the one doing the wanting happens to be Captain Jack Sparrow!"

fini