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Chapter Eight
Susannah remained stuck to the spot, her startling green eyes glazed over. As the minutes passed in silence, I got to my feet, and waved a hand in front of her face, disappointment and mortification flooding to my heart and overwhelming me. I feel the embarrassment burning my cheeks.
"Susannah?" I asked, concernedly, and she came out of her reverie still looking a little stunned. "Are you feeling alright?" She shook her head, but not in answer to my question.
"I'm fine," she replied, colour returning to her face again. She even managed a weak chuckle. "I think I'm just going a little crazy. I thought you just asked me to marry you." A pallid smile appeared on my lips.
"I did, querida," I assured her, clutching her hands, and I felt her go weak in my grasp. I clung to her, keeping her steady. "Do you need to sit down?" She nodded, and I guided her down as I crouched and she sat across my lap. She wrapped arms around my neck and locked her hands, regaining her equilibrium. She eventually turned to me, her eyes bright.
"Are you serious?" she demanded.
"Of course," I answered, my expression solemn. She shook her head again, this time incredulously. "What's the matter?"
"We hardly know each other!" she cried, and she removed her arms from around my neck just to accent her point. She even tried to stand back on her feet, but surrendered to my lap again when she couldn't. "Jesse, I just feel we need to know each other a little better before…"
"We have the rest of our lives to find out the finer points!" I argued, and this faltered Susannah. Her lips remained half-open, as if incapable of a sensible response. I wrapped both arms around her and pulled her close. "Susannah," I continued. "I love you. Don't you feel the same way?"
She paused. "Yes…" she began, a little unsurely. And then she corrected herself. "Yes," she said again, more confidently this time. She laughed. "But we don't have any rings!" I tittered in return.
"You leave that to me," I replied, and I helped her to her feet. Susannah caressed my cheek with her hand, and I savoured the feel of her soft skin. "You just make yourself beautiful." I amended. "Not that it will take much doing." She blushed, a pretty pink colouring her cheeks.
I walked Susannah back to the village, where she took off in her own direction – she promised me she would collect clothes from the camp and return to the church as quickly as possible – and disappeared into the crowd of people, which was considerably thinner than earlier in the morning. I turned in the opposite direction towards the blacksmith, my own mission to carry out.
I stepped into the musky blacksmith's, the metallic stench burning my nostrils. It was noisy – just like the blacksmith's back home – and for a second I was transported back to my own village, and felt a pang of homesickness. I wondered what my father would think of me getting married – and how my mother would have longed to be there. I felt guilty, but the thought of Susannah in a wedding dress pushed everything else to the back of my mind.
I bowed my head and stepped further into the shop, clearing my throat to get someone's attention. A young boy – probably around my age – stepped out from behind a door that obviously let to where most of the production was done. He greeted me with a brief smile, and I didn't waste time with small talk. I was too eager to return to the church.
"Can I have two bands, please?" I asked, and I gestured with my hand to show I wanted rings. He nodded, understanding immediately. He disappeared out of sight round the back and I could hear murmuring, before he reappeared again.
"That will be five pieces of silver," he told me, and I realised that I hadn't brought any money with me. In my excitement, I had wandered into the blacksmith's on a high without any currency whatsoever. Seeing my blank expression, the blacksmith grinned, and shrugged. "You know what?" he continued, lowering his voice. "We'll let it slide. Just don't tell my boss." I felt a rush of relief wash over me, and smiled back gratefully.
"Thank you." My voice was barely a whisper.
"Hey, did you want something engraved on it?" the boy asked, and I paused, deep in thought. I love you seemed too generic, but then nothing else had the same meaning. And I like you very very much wouldn't really fit…
And then I was hit by something of my past – something my parents used to say to each other. It was a small bit of the Spanish me and my sisters had grown up with.
Te Amo.
I relayed this to the blacksmith – and after his confused expression, spelt it out, too – and pondered on this. It was perfect – it was combining my past at home with my future life. And it was definitely original – even if it was just I love you in Spanish.
The rings were finished, and I admired them as I walked quickly back to the church. They were a copper colour, glinting gently in the late afternoon sun. I slipped one onto my finger, and liked how snugly it fit. It was like the ring had been made for me.
Placing the rings in my pocket, I bent down the stream that ran past the church and splashed some cool water onto my face, finger-combing my hair flat. I needed to make myself at least semi-presentable. Dios, it was my wedding!
I then slipped into the cool vestry, where the priest was kneeling, eyes closed, praying. I waited silently against the wall until he was finished. He heard my footsteps on the hard stone, however, and turned around before he was done, surveying me with narrow eyes. I smiled apologetically.
"I'm sorry, sir," I said, nodding my head politely. "I didn't mean to intrude. I only meant to ask if you would perform a short ceremony for-" He held up his hands for silence, and I heeded him. He smiled, a crinkly smile that didn't quite reach his tired eyes.
"Your lady has already been to see me," he replied, and the thought of Susannah turned my heart. "And of course – I would be glad to. She is changing a moment." He smiled more, showing his teeth. "She is beautiful." I nodded in agreement.
"I assume you have rings…" the priest continued, wandering out into the nave. I followed him helplessly, clutching the copper bands in my pocket. He proceeded down the aisle, and I trailed after him, my pulse accelerating with every step. We reached the altar, and I came to a stop, my final footstep echoing through the rest of the church.
"Here she comes," the priest murmured, and I glanced down the end of the aisle, where the oak doors had just begun to open. As they pulled apart, I spotted a slim shape dressed in white, and as she got closer, I began to recognise Susannah's features: the cascade of chestnut curls, the pink blush on her cheek…
A thin sheen broke out across my forehead, and my fingers became instantly clammy. But I wasn't nervous, oh no. I was excited. I could feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins, hitting my fingertips and then bouncing back again. My heartbeat seemed to echo against the walls, along with the roaring in my ears. There was no other sound except for Susannah's small steps on the stone floor, getting louder and louder as she grew closer and closer…
"Hi," she said, timidly, as she reached the altar, and I smiled. I took her hand and kissed it, before turning to the priest. His mouth was a thin line and he watched our exchange, almost with a sadness, before he opened his Bible.
"O.K," I murmured in Susannah's ear, as the priest began the ceremony. "Here goes…"
The service was peaceful; I couldn't have imagined it more perfect with a church full of people. It was the simplicity – the fact that there were only three of us in the entire building that afternoon – that made it so memorable. The way the priest's words hit the back wall despite him speaking softly, the way I could hear the swish of Susannah's dress as she lifted her finger up so I could place the ring on her finger.
As Susannah signed her name on the register, I admired my own finger. The copper band fit perfectly, as if my finger had been designed for the ring, and not the other way round. It glinted in the setting sun that shone through the stained glass as I scrawled my own name, and then the two rings sparkled together as our fingers entwined.
There was a bubble inside me, an elation so great but just kept on growing as the minutes progressed. I was married to Susannah, the girl I loved, and nothing could destroy that happiness.
We ran back to the camp through the fields, hand-in-hand, giggling like two foolish school-children. The sky was a deep midnight blue now, and a thousand-thousand stars glinted above us in the velvet blanket, though they could not hold a torch for the way Susannah's eyes shone, and the way I was sure mine did.
We reached the gate to the camp and slid through it silently, knowing that everyone else would be asleep by now, ready for the day of travel tomorrow. We headed simultaneously for Susannah's wagon; I held up the cloth that fell across the entrance as Susannah hitched up her skirts and ducked through, and I followed eagerly. She greeted me with a hard kiss, passionately pressing her mouth to mine as I let the cloth fall, the darkness consuming us.
We fell back automatically onto the mattress that had been the first thing I'd seen, the day I met the Mediators. Susannah's breaths, along with my own, were deep and ragged as our lips broke apart for the first time in minutes, and she aided my hands as they slipped up her leg and tangled in her petticoat. Electricity taunted my spine as we continued, both giddy with the high we had been riding on since the early afternoon. I reattached my lips to hers to stifle the sounds that came next.
