Rosalie, 1950

Finally. It was time. As I prepared to go through the double doors leading to the sanctuary, I sensed something was amiss. Where was the organ? Kate's fingers should already be weaving across the keys in harmony with Irina's harp, a skill she'd picked up nearly eight hundred years ago. Why weren't Carmen and Eleazer accompanying them with their beautiful voices, spinning a wordless, beautiful accompaniment? Why weren't my flower girls moving? Tanya, Esme, and Alice, my bridesmaids, stood motionless, glancing back at me. Carlisle was suddenly at my side, his lips moving so swiftly no human could understand.

"Emmett isn't out there. He's frantic about a woman in the audience recognizing him."

I didn't like how Carlisle seemed almost afraid to mention it to me. "Who is it, Carlisle?"

Carlisle said coolly, "Rosalie, that is of no importance. Right now I need you to come convince Emmett to come out of his dressing room."

"Who is it?" I could feel the sharpness of my voice. Carlisle looked into my eyes, and suddenly Esme was at his side, holding his hand, but speaking gently to me.

"Rosalie, please, don't make a bigger fuss about it than has already been made. Just go talk to Emmett."

Esme's eyes were pleading, and of course I hated upsetting her, my loving mother, but it was my day…no trite human was going to ruin it for me! I would know her identity, so I could throw her out myself if necessary. How dare she interfere!

"Who is it?" I repeated. I was no longer asking to know; I was demanding.

Carlisle sighed, resigned. Alice's eyes were wide and unseeing; she was having a vision. With a swift glance at her, he placed a steadying hand on my arm. Or a restraining hand, I wasn't sure which.

"Rachel."

Rachel, New Year's Day, 1935

I leaned up on my toes to meet Emmett's kiss. He pulled me closer, and I sighed slightly. I was so happy whenever I was with him; even if I could only see him my world seemed to brighten and nothing mattered so much as looking at his amazing face, the face of the man I would do anything for.

"Happy sixteenth," he whispered into my ear, and I shivered as his breath tickled the hairs on my neck. And he pulled out a ring.

I gasped. We were in the backwoods of Tennessee; how could he have afforded, or found, a diamond ring?

He chuckled gently at my stare, and slipped it on my finger. "But…Emmett…" I could only gasp. I felt rather faint, but I had to keep myself upright. I didn't want him to see me as weak or helpless. "Say yes, Rachel," he said, eyes gazing into mine.

I twisted out of his grasp and smoothed my hair. Looking up at him through my lashes I asked, sounding playful but being really quite serious, "Why do you want silly, young little me to marry you? You're nineteen, handsome, and strong. And you have the most spectacular personality. Why would you choose me?"

His laugh soothed me. Even as I stayed away from his still outstretched arms I longed to fall into them. I had to hear what I wanted to hear first.

"Rachel," he sighed, exasperated, "because I love you. Because you're my gal."

My face lit up at the old nickname. I knew it did, because his face, which had been nervous at first, became good-humored and confident once more.

"Yes!" I cried. I leapt into his arms and he twirled me about in the moonlight, the tips of my toes skimming the dewy grass. I kissed him, and then, hands twined tightly together, we went back to the party. I couldn't wait to tell Sally.