Disclaimer: I don't own.
A/N: So I know I said I'd put a link in the last chapter and I didn't. I'm sorry. I fail. It sounds like most of your googled it, but in case you didn't...
wikipedia(dot)org search Chene Chapelle
www(dot)dailycognition(dot)com/index(dot)php/2009/12/27/10-most-extraordinary-trees-in-the-world(dot)html This is where I discovered the tree in the first place.
Thank you for the lovely reviews! Enjoy! And yes, we're winding down, but I still have some things to come, so it should be a few more chapters, depending how long it takes and how much smut/fluff gets thrown in. Oh, and I like epilogues, so chances are there will be one of those too. :)
Chapter Ninety Nine:
Gil returned quickly, telling me we had about a half an hour, and that he would take Ayla to let me get ready. There was a small home nearby—the priest's home, I learned—where we would be changing. He guided me over and gave me the black dress that had been hanging next to his suit in the back seat, kissing me quickly and turning to take Ayla into a different room to change.
"Gil?" He stopped, glancing at me. I cleared my throat. "I, uh… left something in the car. Can I get the keys?" He pulled them from his pocket and set them in my palm, but I could see his eyes trying to work out what exactly I didn't have in hand. I smiled softly. "Nylons…" I answered his unasked question, and then he nodded, smiling, and turned with Ayla to go get dressed. The minute the door closed behind him, I was rushing out to the car and popping the trunk where I had laid out the gown I'd purchased the day before and rushing back into the small home so that he wouldn't catch me—I wanted him to be surprised.
I had to twist myself around rather impressively to zip myself up the back, but otherwise it was a simple enough dress that I was ready right away… and then I was pacing. I didn't want him to see me until I entered the chapel. Was he planning for us to walk over together? I didn't emerge, and ten minutes later he knocked on the door.
"Honey…?"
"Yeah?"
I could hear him frowning, through the door, at my response. "I… uh… Are you ready to go?"
"It's bad luck to see me in my dress before the wedding."
He chuckled softly. "Sara, you tried the dress on for me yesterday in the store. I've seen it."
"Not on our wedding day! …Besides, it's different… my hair's done and…" I trailed off, but his silence seemed warm and affectionate and made me believe that he understood.
"Okay… well, I'll head over there and tell them you'll be over in a minute or so. Is that okay?"
"Sure… Are you taking Ayla or leaving her with me?"
"Do you want her?" He asked, and suddenly I did.
"Yeah… I'll open the door and stand behind it. You set her in… but no peeking!"
He chuckled again but agreed and we sneakily passed the small child between us. I hefted her onto a hip, hoping it wouldn't ruin the overall appearance of my dress, and listened to the sounds of him moving through the house, out the door, and the fading sounds of his footsteps as he crossed the street to the Chêne-Chapelle. I turned my gaze to Ayla, smiling at her and setting her down with a wry smile, taking the time to adjust her outfit. Gil had done a fairly good job, not having tights to struggle with this time, but her pigtails were askew and the loops on the bow in back overlong. I made the minor adjustments and looked Ayla in the eyes.
"We're getting married, my baby."
"Baby?" She asked me very seriously, looking around for one of her dolls. I smiled.
"You know that we're never going to forget Daddy, right?"
"Daddy." She said, very seriously, but she did not cry—it was rare, now, that just the word would make her burst into tears.
I nodded. "Daddy was wonderful and we loved him a lot…But now we get to have a new man in our lives… a new husband and a new daddy. …It's what your daddy wanted. For us to be happy. …Gil makes you happy, doesn't he?"
Her little eyebrows twitched and her lips quirked. "Gil-as." She responded, a combination of Gil and glasses, and pursed her lips. "Gilas happy."
I smirked and kissed her cheeks. "You think you'll start calling Gil 'Daddy' any time soon?"
She frowned a little, looking confused, but the moment didn't last. In the next second she was babbling to herself, and I drew in a deep breath and lifted her back onto my hips before stepping out of the room. I had my clothing in a bag and stopped to deposit in the car before moving to the chapel. There was no wedding march, no grand entrance or standing guests as I moved up the winding staircase built outside of the tree. I set Ayla down, keeping one chubby palm wrapped around a finger, and stepped up to the entrance.
Because of the lack of fanfare, Gil did not notice our arrival immediately… Ayla tugged away from my hand, toddling down the small aisle and clutching onto the pant legs of his suit, distracting him from his apparently engaging conversation with the woman sitting in the front pew, beside another man. When she gripped him, exclaiming, "Gila!" he looked down at her in surprise, and then his gaze flickered to the entrance and me…
His jaw was slack and his mouth open, his eyes wide and speechless. I blushed—Sara Sidle, a blushing bride… who'd have thought/?—and moved forward, my hands awkwardly smoothing the white gown over and over, basking in his approval and yet somehow still feeling self-conscious.
The woman jumped up and moved to the small piano crowded into the corner, and then music began—not the traditional wedding march, but the beautiful notes of Ave Maria. One of Gil's favorites. He pulled Ayla up and continued to watch me in stunned silence as I moved down the aisle, clutching the ring I'd bought for him in one sweaty, nervous, otherwise-empty palm. And I was nervous… This wasn't how I'd felt my first time around. The emotion had been more like… dread.
I found myself smiling halfway down the aisle. Because the sight I was coming closer and closer to was Gil—my Gil, my love—with my baby in his arms, looking like he could not possibly be happier. …And despite nerves and self-consciousness at the dress and a little awkwardness at this intimate moment being observed by three strangers, I didn't think I could be happier either. Ayla's birth and rescue were perhaps the only moments in my life that could rival it. And then I was there, beside him, and Ayla stretched out away from him to come into my arms. I held her on my right hip, between us, and instead of taking my hands, Gil put his arm around the pair of us, passing me a small bouquet of white tulips, the petals rough along the edges. Fringed tulips. …They were beautiful.
And real.
The service was short, no doubt in part because the priest spoke very little English, slipping into French when he couldn't think of the correct phrasing, Gil murmuring softly to me his best guess of what had been said—he had minimal knowledge of the French language, but it was still more than me. It was simple but sweet… our vows were said, rings exchanged, and he pronounced us not man and wife, but husband and wife. Gil tugged me to him, a giddy, little-boy smile on his face, and he kissed me in a way that was very reminiscent of a kiss we shared against a much smaller oak so long ago.
With the service over, Gil introduced me to the people in attendance—Father Moreau, the piano player, Camille, and her husband Charles, who served as our witnesses on the marriage license that we then proceeded to sign. I marveled at all the small details Gil had taken care of—the license and witnesses, the flowers, the specific phrasings that had plagued me from my first wedding—flushing with pleasure at the gleam in his eyes when he looked at the signed and official marriage license, proof of our union, and then let his gaze move over my dress-clad form.
"I love you," I murmured softly to him, thinking that it was perhaps redundant after the massive expression of love we'd just undertaken, but it was nice to say. …It needed to be said.
He smiled and pressed his lips to my ear. "Je t'aime." I shivered at his words and the hot breath on my neck, wondering if there was a honeymoon suite in town or if we would be heading back to our hotel in Paris right away, like we'd planned. …If we could get Ayla to take another nap…
We thanked the people and Camille hugged me, telling me she'd never been so moved by a wedding service, and then we were leaving the Chapel Oak. Camille ran outside after us, demanding that we wait just a minute, before she hurried down the street. She was back in a minute with a camera in tow, and took several pictures of us in the chapel and in front of it, outside, before taking down our emails and promising to send them to us. "You need some wedding pictures," she scolded us affectionately, and for some reason I found myself hugging her again. I hardly knew her, but I was going to miss her. She almost reminded me of my mother, and it was a strangely comforting feeling.
And despite the lack of fanfare or ceremony or tradition, I still felt that this was a moment that would forever be crystal clear and cherished in my mind, the quiet contentment between us as we moved back to the car poignant and fulfilling and uplifting. We found a small restaurant in the town and, despite our fancy clothes, stopped to eat before heading back to Paris. For some reason, besides the moment of our entrance, Gil in his best suit and I in my wedding gown, people hardly seemed surprised to see us there. Having grown up in a small town, I understood—good news travelled fast and everyone here had probably known we were coming for a week at least.
But the food was warm and good and comforting in the very best way, and just before we left someone decided to start clinging their spoon against their water glass, getting the entire dining room on it within minutes, all eyes on us. Gil was blushing as much as I was as he set the paid check down to the table and reluctantly stood and leaned across the table to press a chaste kiss to my lips. When he pulled away, almost immediately, there were outcries—mostly in French—but we understood their meaning loud and clear.
He kissed me a second time, deeply and fiercely and passionately, turning my face a brilliant shade of scarlet, and we moved out of the restaurant to the sound of applause, Ayla joining in though she had no idea what they were clapping at.
Once we were driving away from the small town and the beautiful, old, perfect tree… I couldn't help but turn around to watch it for a while, feeling entirely overcome with everything he'd done and… with the place itself. I wouldn't just miss Camille—I would miss the entire town. I would miss the tree.
Still, a few miles down the road, I turned my attention to Ayla—her morning nap hadn't been long, and if I could keep her awake until after dinner, she would go to bed early and still sleep through the night. …And right now, that seemed a more-than-admirable goal.