The morning of Mary Vance's wedding dawned breezy and cool.
"I hope it won't rain!" cried Rilla, as she gathered her dress in her arms and made her way to Four Winds.
"If God lets it rain on my wedding day, I won't go to church any more," was Mary's rejoinder.
"Mary!" Miss Cornelia cried in consternation. "You are far too old to be saying such things! Of course you'll always go to church like a good girl."
"If God keeps it from raining, I will." Mary was laconic.
Miss Cornelia's prim, neat house was in an uproar that morning. Rilla had already changed into her yellow bridesmaid's dress, and Nan, in hers, was surreptitiously putting on just a touch of make-up, all the while trying not to let Mrs. Blythe, who was arranging Mary's hair, and looking very youthful herself in a blue voile, see what she was doing. Una, maid of honor, was running to and fro in a flurry of activity, and Faith was already at the church, tying matching yellow bows onto the pews. Yellow was Mary's favorite color, and so everything that day was a veritable homage to it. Marshall Elliott had spared no expense for "his girl."
"What a shame that Di couldn't be here to see how lovely you look," said Mrs. Blythe with a smile. "But she could not get away from the musical college, and she has sent you a cluster of columbines to slip in your bouquet. They will be your 'something blue.' There – I've tilted the glass – take a look at yourself, Mary. What a beautiful bride!"
Rilla had to admit that it was a shock to see how well Mary looked. She felt the others were aware of it as well. Was this their Mary, who looked so at home in her print dresses and ginghams? This shining thing, in silk, with skin like white marble, and eyes that glowed with an unearthly luster? They had never known that Mary, with her cap of black hair and her cloud of veil, could look so delicate and ethereal. She had always seemed to be made of 'too, too solid flesh' – today, however, she was a sunbeam.
"Laws," said Mary, surveying the girl before her in the looking-glass with some awe. "I wish my ma and pa could see me now – and all the people that cast me aside before you took me, Cornelia. Wouldn't they – be surprised – to see how fine I've become?"
"You look very beautiful, Mary," said Rilla, with a lump in her own throat.
"Do you remember the day you found me in your hay-loft?" said Mary with some emotion to Una. "You – all – have always been such good friends to me." She sounded much more tender than anyone could have ever imagined Mary Vance to sound.
They stared at her aghast. Could Mary be about to cry?
"Don't you dare bawl and ruin your face!" Nan hissed. Some of her contraband make-up had been covertly applied there as well.
"I ain't going to bawl," choked Mary. "Give me a hanky, Una – come on, girls, we must get to the church. I told Miller I'd lambaste him if he was late – and I'm no hypocrite, so I won't be late myself."
They piled into Marshall Elliott's car and drove to the church. All the while Mary seemed to be blinking more than usual – anyone who didn't know her would have thought she was trying not to cry. But Mary never cried – not even when she saw the beautiful, golden-decorated church, or when she took her 'father's' arm and let him lead her down the aisle. Though she did swallow hard around the lump in her throat and her eyes did water. She did not cry when her bridesmaids gathered around her, or when the organist struck up the strains of the wedding march.
But when Miller Douglas, his face alight with a glow of love and hope – Miller, who had lost a leg in the war – walked on his own down the aisle, supported on one side by Kenneth Ford, Mary did cry. She laid her snapping black head on the shoulder of her groom and wept tears of happiness through her vows. And Rilla, who generally disdained tears at weddings, found she did not mind. In fact, she found her own eyes were rather moist.
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It did not rain – and the wedding party in the church hall was just as jolly and fun as Mary could have wanted it to be. She didn't dance, of course – Miller had managed the walk down the aisle but couldn't manage that – but she was content to sit by his side as his wife and let others do the dancing for her.
"So dance you must!" she commanded, and they were so awestruck by this new, queenly Mary that they dared not disobey.
Rilla took her place in Ken's arms and smiled dreamily. She was miles away. Oh she loved weddings – she did! She hoped her own wedding would be as nice as this one – whenever it happened – though Nan had said there were not nearly enough flowers and there would be heaps more at her own, Rilla thought it was perfect.
"What are you thinking of?" asked Ken with a grin. He looked so handsome in his tuxedo that Rilla could not help but smile. His bowtie had been tied at an odd angle – she had forgotten to help him with it, and he must have tied it himself rather than to ask Persis.
"It's so – nice – to have a party," said Rilla. "After all those years of worry – and pain – now the only thing we have to worry about it getting the steps rights – or spilling punch on our fine clothes. If Shirley was here – and Di – we would all be together again and –it could be almost like it was before. Almost."
Miss Cornelia had baked a cake that was a cake – a lovely, plummy, fruit-peely concoction that even Susan, looking so formal in her outmoded 'dress up' dress, could not deny. Rilla danced until her golden slippers were worn through. She laughed at Kenneth's toast and cried, despite herself, at Miller's. Mary tossed her bouquet and there was a short tussle between Faith, Nan, and Irene Howard that the photographer captured with a snap of his camera. Nan came out the winner, triumphant, and Jerry had kissed her – right in front of everyone. Miss Cornelia danced with Marshall Elliott – Rev. Meredith with Rosemary – and even Dr. Blythe asked Susan to take a twirl around the floor. And she obliged! Everyone was feeling the same relief and giddy joy after the long years of war. They dared not be too cautious with it.
Mary changed into her 'going away' suit – a buttery green cashmere with a peaked yellow hat. They threw rice as she helped Miller into the car – and then as Miller kissed her. They clapped and called to the couple as they drove away. Then Kenneth took Rilla's hand, as the other couples began to disperse into the twilight.
"Let's slip away," he smiled. "With Queen Mary finally gone we might risk it!"
They saw others forms, in pairs, heading toward Rainbow Valley – Nan and Jerry, talking animatedly, Nan still holding her faded bouquet. Jerry and Faith were far ahead, hand in hand. Una was walking by herself, a bit behind Persis and Carl. Rilla shivered, and was afraid to look behind her. What else – who else – would she see following, in that ghostly procession?
But then she laughed, for Kenneth had grabbed her hand. "I won't let them beat us to it," he said. "Let's run!" Rilla let him hold her and they flew down the lane past the others.
Rainbow Valley was quiet and cool. There was the sound of the brook from somewhere. Rilla slipped off her stockings and dabbled her feet in it.
"All in all," said Ken, joining her. "I think Mary and Miller's wedding went off very nicely."
"It was a dream – a golden-cloud of a dream."
"But," Ken mused, "I think ours will be even be even nicer."
Rilla sat up very straight. She let go of her dress, which she had been holding out of the way of the rushing water, and the hem of it was soaked.
"Our wedding!" she cried. "Oh, Kenneth – our wedding?"
"Of course our wedding," laughed Ken.
"But I didn't think – I mean – I didn't know if you…"
"If I wanted to marry you?" Ken looked surprised. "If we would get married? Of course we will – and haven't I asked you time after time? When I asked you to—"
"To not kiss anyone else…"
"And then when I came back and asked if you were Rilla my Rilla and you said—"
"Oh…" Rilla flushed red with embarrassment.
"You said 'Yeth,' with that charming little lisp that is one of the things I love best about you."
"I must be terribly stupid," said Rilla, covering her face. "I didn't realize – I mean – I didn't have a ring – not that I need one, Ken, when I've got you! But I didn't know – I've never done this before – "
"I took mother's ring to the jeweler's in Toronto almost as soon as I got home," said Kenneth. "A ruby – I'm having it reset for you. Rubies are for virtuous women, you know – dear, dimpled, charming, lisping, wonderful virtuous women like Rilla-mine."
"They're about to spoon," said Jem, to Faith. "I knew we should have gone to down to the light. Hallo, Rilla, Ken! None of that business."
"I'm getting married!" cried Rilla joyfully, springing up, her wet dress swirling around her legs. "Oh, Jerry and Nan, too – listen to my news! I'm going to be Kenneth Ford's wife!"
They looked at her fondly.
"Of course you are," laughed Nan. "Hasn't Susan been looking at recipes for the big event for weeks now? She's already written to get Aunt Diana's recipe for jelly-rolls – and Mother and Father have a bet on when it will be. Father says nearer to Christmas, but Mother thinks it will be in the spring. Only," Nan drew herself up proudly, "You'd better not make it March. That's when my wedding will be."
It must be official, then! Jerry had gotten the Lowbridge church! But Rilla was too busy being shocked to put those pieces of information together then.
"Oh," Rilla gasped. "Oh – everyone knew it – except for me?"
"I only suspected, dear," said Una.
"We knew," said Jem. "Here's to my sister – my sisters – and the men that make them happy – and you, Una – and Carl, and Persis – and my own Faith! Here's to this Rainbow Valley – here's to us all!"
"And I was the last to know," Rilla sighed – contentedly.
