Kiss The Bride
"You look…"
The girl from the bridal shop – who came with the dress, like a veil or pair of gloves – doesn't need to tell her. She knows. She designed every stitch herself, from the antique lace cover-up that rises high at the back and makes the sweetheart neckline at the front seem almost demure, to the sky blue sash around her waist: something old, something new, something borrowed…
"Knock knock."
He enters with his hands over his eyes, but she has no doubt he's watching her through his fingers.
"That only matters if you're the groom."
"I'll dispense with it, then." His arms fall to his sides. "There's something terribly wrong with the bridesmaids' dresses, by the way. If –"
"Sue," the girl puts in helpfully.
"If Sue would be kind enough to go and see to Elena and the others, then by a happy coincidence, you and I could have a little chat."
And then it's just the two of them, with the closed door between them and the rest of the world. He's dressed perfectly for a spring wedding in a lightweight grey suit. The phrase 'dressed to kill' drifts across her mind, and she adjusts the artful tendrils framing her face and focuses on his reflection in the mirror, not hers.
"You look beautiful."
"Thank you." She was prepared for him to come – she asked him to, after all – but she's not prepared for how it feels to be alone in a room with him, her in her wedding dress and him with that enigmatic smile that has nothing to do with happiness or sadness and everything to do with his knowing she has a reason for everything, especially his invitation. "I thought you'd be mad," she says finally.
"Did you want me to crash the ceremony, love? Overturn tables and slaughter distant relatives? I can if you like."
"Of course not!"
"Then why, Caroline. Tell me why."
She bites her lip.
"Were you hoping I'd stop you?"
"No, I just…I just…" Her train, long enough to require three bridesmaids, not two, takes a full minute to follow her as she turns. "I wanted closure, I guess. I wanted you to have closure."
His eyebrows leap up his forehead. "Closure? Because you're getting married?"
"To Tyler!"
The name has him crossing the thick green carpet at a stroll, as if they have all the time in the world to talk about him and them. He takes her hands in his, inspects her engagement ring; his expression is politely disgusted, and then politely amused as he meets her gaze. "How long does a marriage last? A lifetime? Half a lifetime? This is supposed to be the happiest day of your life. You're never supposed to be lovelier than you are today. But you, Caroline, will be lovely forever. You may wear your hair up more often and dress down less because you're married, but your spirit will never change."
"My spirit?"
"You want to walk the world," he says simply. "You want to see every part of it."
"We're going to China for the honeymoon."
"You could go farther."
"Where?"
"The future. The past. I know a charming witch in Arkansas who, for a small fee, can put us inside one of my memories. You could see New York before it had skyscrapers, or Virginia when the earth was still virginal. I know you'd love the twenties. The fifties."
She reaches up and touches his mouth. She closes his lips, and her fingertips quiver ever so slightly. "It would be impossible, Klaus. Every person who hates you would use me to get to you."
"No one would dare so much as even glance in your direction."
"And I love Tyler."
He closes his eyes. "And this is your first wedding."
"First?"
"It may not be your last."
"But today…"
"But today I'm not mad," he promises. "I've learned three things: that you still have feelings for me, 'closure' or no closure, and that you're amenable to the idea of marriage."
"And what's the third thing?"
"You're radiant in white."
She glows in silent gratitude, silent acceptance of the compliment.
"Now, shall I escort you to your groom? I like the idea of giving you away. It'll make it much easier to get you back again."
"You're not going to give me away, Klaus."
"Then can I at least kiss the bride?"
Fin.