It was a small, wood-framed white chapel. Nestled with its back to the Chesapeake Bay, it had served the same tiny community on the Eastern Shore of Maryland since its construction over 100 years ago. Simple in design, it consisted of one large room, a center aisle dividing rows of oak-hewn pews polished by age and use. At the end of the aisle stood a tall altar as plain in design as the chapel itself, its only concession to prominence the fact that it hid a small platform step that lifted the minister high enough to see out over his congregation. As befitting the needs of the original membership, the chapel was unadorned, missing the more usual religious iconography of larger houses of worship. The members here held their faith close to their hearts, their prayers and song the only decoration the chapel bore.
Tonight, the warm gold of the setting sun filtered through the open windows, the breeze from the Bay fluttering the gauzy curtains hanging over them. Light from the tall, slender lamps stationed in the four corners of the room added a steady glow to the flickering light provided by the branches of tall, ivory candles spread throughout.
In the corner behind and to the left of the altar, a harpist's fingers provided soft musical accompaniment as guests settled in, their voices hushed.
Seated on the first pew on the right side of the aisle, Booth caught himself tapping the heel of one foot and stopped. He glanced down at his watch. Not even two minutes since he'd looked at it last. Surreptitiously, he tapped the face. Padme, sitting next to him, squeezed his knee. Jared, on the other side of Padme, leaned over smiling and whispered, "Almost time."
On the other side of Booth, Parker shifted in his seat to watch as late arrivals entered. He waved to his mother as she and her boyfriend sat down in the back. Caroline Julian, seated behind Jared, caught Parker's eye and gave him a broad smile and a wink, leaning forward to pat Booth on the shoulder. Booth's chin lifted, but he didn't look back.
Finally, from the other side of Parker, Father Dunaghan leaned forward. "I believe it's time." Booth stood with his son and the priest and as he stepped forward heard the sound of one last set of tires crunching over the gravel outside. Suddenly, the nervousness and tension that had gripped him for hours fell away and he took a deep breath for what he thought was the first time that day. The priest took his place in front of the altar. Booth and Parker turned to face the door as the guests fell quiet, the music from the harp filling the silence.
Booth barely registered Angela moving slowly down the aisle, dressed in a long, slender column of black silk. He didn't notice the dazzling smile she wore or the cascade of curls that fell over her shoulders or the loose bouquet of ivory roses she carried. With his whole being, he focused on the doorway. And waited.
There was a rustle of sound and movement as the guests stood and turned.
And then . . . she was there.
"I want her to know that every time you look at her, it brings you to your knees."
It almost did. As it was, he took an involuntary step toward her before he managed to stop himself.
She did not wear a veil. Her dark hair was styled in a loose roll above her ears and around the back of her head, tendrils pulled free to hang in delicate curls that drifted along her neck and temples, small sparkling bits of crystal flashing in the light of the candles through the silk of her hair.
His eyes locked on hers, it wasn't until later that he would notice the everything that made her beautiful. Later, when he had time to catch his breath, he'd notice how the slim straps of her ivory gown lay against the edge of her shoulders. He'd appreciate the narrow sparkling band that encircled her ribs, meeting in a point between her breasts, emphasizing their new fullness while allowing the soft chiffon and silk of the long skirt to float over the slight swelling of her abdomen. Later, when he laughed and sent her twirling from him on the dance floor, he'd catch the flash of the dolphin that glittered at the nape of her neck.
Later.
At that moment, he was caught in the glittering depths of her eyes, lost in the knowledge that she was . . . finally . . . his.
She's walking too slow, he thought. With an effort, he managed not to race down the aisle and pull her from Max's side.
Finally . . . she was there. Standing next to him.
Finally . . . Booth felt Max place her hand in his, giving him a pat on the shoulder before he turned to sit down.
Finally . . . there she was, right beside him. Angela stepped forward and tugged the bouquet out of Brennan's hand and then he could hold each of her hands in his. The priest he hadn't even had to argue, much, to convince her to use an an officiate began speaking.
Neither heard him.
Twice, Booth said "I do" in the wrong place.
Three times, Father Dunaghan repeated the beginning of Brennan's side of the vows before Angela stepped forward and whispered in her ear, "This is the part where you say your name, sweetie."
Booth took his eyes off of her only twice. The first time, when Parker nudged him with a small, faded velvet box.
Brennan took her eyes off of him only once, to watch as he slid the wide silver band on her finger.
Once again, it was Angela who stepped forward, taking the box from Booth, folding the wider band into Brennan's hand. And then it was Booth who watched as she pushed the ring into its place.
"And so, by the power vested in me by the State of Maryland . . ."
He saw it in her eyes and took one step forward, arms open as she launched herself toward him. Dimly, the sounds of cheers and clapping reached them, through a kiss that seemed endless. Finally, they separated and stood smiling at each other until the cheers and laughter faded.
" . . . I now pronounce you man and wife," Father Dunaghan continued, smiling broadly. "Seeley Booth, you may kiss your bride."
And, he did.