Chapter 24: Cake and Expectations
This moment was strangely nerve wracking for Peeta. All of his life he had been designing, frosting and decorating cakes, but not once, not ever before had he seen someone's reaction to his work. When he was younger the small cakes would sell before he was done frosting them. When he got better at them they were boxed carefully and opened at fancy parties he was definitely not invited to. Even Finnick and Annie's wedding cake had been barred from him; which made sense, but he had wanted to see their faces, especially since, whether he had been aware of it at the time or not, they were his friends.
Maybe it was strange that he hadn't thought twice about walking straight up to the head of the crowd and giving the ceremony, but stood now with sweaty palms, waiting to push cake out into the meadow. He took a deep breath to try to regain some composure, and wiped his damp hands on his dress pants. He heard a soft crinkle from his pocket, and lost what little poise he had successfully invoked.
Something else weighed on him, as he pondered making the cake's grand entrance, and that thing was a small piece of paper he had procured from the Justice Building earlier that day. He'd had it in his pocket for several hours. Throughout the day he had pulled it out and mulled over it. He thought about doing so now, but decided better of it. This time was for Madge and Gale, and the time for he and Katniss would come later, he had no doubt. The next few hours held a lot of potential for rejection, that was for sure.
Just as he was starting to convince himself that even if they hated the cake, they could still eat it as its decorations would take no merit from its taste, he felt a slight pressure at the small of his back - Katniss's hand, rubbing reassuringly against his tensed muscles.
"What are you waiting for?" Katniss's voice came quietly from behind him. When she looked at him with this honest question in her eyes- she really couldn't fathom what could be keeping him at the doorway- she, at least, knew that his creation would not be rejected. This gave him faith that he, himself, wouldn't be rejected, either. The paper could wait.
"Want to help me push it out?" He asked her, moving a bit so she had a space at the handle of the cart.
"Nope. This is all you." She rose up on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek, "It's beautiful. Be proud." Then she smiled at him. He looked at her, at the cake, and at the spinning and dancing already livening up the meadow. Gale and Madge deserved every moment of this celebration. Everyone did.
"I wish we could have had all of this. I wish we could have celebrated our wedding day, really... instead of hiding it," he said, staring dreamily out into the throng of guests, imagining Katniss in a white gown. When he turned back to her, she had transformed entirely, no longer was her face glowing with pride and gentleness. She was cold and angry, her silvery eyes dangerous and bright. "What's the matter?"
"I'm getting really tired of hearing about what our wedding could have been or should have been," she hissed, "Maybe I liked it the way it was."
"There wasn't anything wrong with it," he began, "we just didn't get to pick..."
"But we did. We did pick." She insisted harshly, her fists clenched and shaking at her sides, "We toasted because we wanted to. We didn't have to, I told you that. It was the wedding we picked. We picked to have a wedding by ourselves rather than be forced to share it with the whole damn country. That's what happened. That's what we picked."
"Katniss," Peeta began again, changing his tone, trying to be quieter, more gentle.
"And I never, never wanted to get married in the first place. But you know what? If I had to get married, if I was ever going to get married, that's how I wanted to do it. I would choose it again, every time. And I would choose you again. Every time." She was flaming. The Girl on Fire was not an arbitrary moniker. Peeta fought for a moment against the harsh tone building on his tongue. Angry words were never the way he'd wanted his marriage to work.
Again, softly, he tried, "Katniss," and as though she somehow understood how hard he was trying to keep himself collected, her next words were more sensible, quieter.
"So when you go on about how we never had a cake and you didn't make our bread and nobody was there and it isn't even legal," she made a small, sad noise, but then said in an un-fittingly loud voice, "It just hurts my feelings!" and stomped off, leaving Peeta very much alone with his cake.
He scarcely had a moment to feel puzzled, irritated, and a little sad before Madge popped her head in. He tried to clear his head and wiped his face with a smile. Probably airing his marital issues to Madge on her actual wedding day wasn't a good idea. But her face had fallen completely slack anyway when she saw the cake.
"Oh, Peeta," she breathed, and stepped into the room, pressing the delicate fingers of one hand to her peach-pink lips. "It's... oh. It's beautiful." Peeta figured it was one of his best creations. Built out of intertwining patterns of lace, hearts and leaves, greens, browns and pinks with everything winding together like one perfect tree. And in tiny, perfect letters their name on each leaf and heart, Hawthorne. The whole thing wasn't terribly big, but it was fantastically intricate and seemed to embody each member of their family, from the dark green of Gale, the white lace of Madge and the pink hearts for Maysilee.
"Do you like it?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady, Madge's eyes had filled with tears.
She could only repeat, "Oh, Peeta. It's beautiful. It's beautiful." As she pulled him into a tight hug and added, "Thank you. For everything you've done. I can't imagine how we would have put this wedding together without you."
Peeta only shook his head again, "No, I was happy to do it. Like I said, I just want to be useful and make people happy. It feels good."
"And you're good at it, Peeta. I hope that you have people who make you happy." Madge was very genuine as she took his hand, "I'm so glad that you and Katniss have one another."
"You and Gale, too," he smiled, and gave her hand a squeeze. He started to release it, but she caught it. He looked at her, puzzled. Her face had changed, she looked pained, uncertain.
"Peeta," she said his name very quickly, but then froze up. He gave her hand another squeeze and turned fully to her, giving her the whole of his attention. The gesture helped, and she seemed to relax a bit as she continued. "Do you ever... think about how we don't look like how we used to."
Peeta's thoughts went to his leg, and his other hand went to one of the many burn scars on his neck. This night had not gone exactly as he had hoped, so far.
Madge looked horrified, "Oh Peeta, no! I'm so sorry, I didn't mean- I only meant," she tugged at the shoulders on her dress, which hung just a bit loose. "When we were younger, it was always Gale and Katniss who were too thin."
Peeta understood immediately what Madge meant. Gale and Katniss, so handsome and strong, filled out their formalwear proudly, whereas he and Madge had to be sort of tailored into theirs in a way that no one would notice how ill the clothing fit.
"Sometimes," Peeta finally answered her question. His voice sounded hollow, and distant, even to him. He tried to shake the feeling of numbness, and put more inflection back into his voice. It took effort. "I'm grateful... that I survived... that we all survived... but it's no surprise our bodies didn't bounce back. Katniss and Gale were used to starving, their bodies used to making the most out of every calorie and nutrient they took in."
"I just," Madge picked at her dress again, clearly wishing for her youthful figure to fill it, rather than her current one. "I wish that-"
"Madge," Peeta cut her off with a hug. "You're going to choose now to get insecure about how you look in your dress? Gale already said yes!"
Madge laughed. To his relief, it seemed he had managed to dismiss the thought from her mind. Too bad it had taken root in his, reminding him of all the ways that he was different from the Peeta that Katniss had 'married' so long ago.
"Oh Peeta, I wish we all lived closer together." Madge said, pulling away from his hug to continue gaping at the cake.
"Me too, but we can make the best out of tonight and the next few days," Peeta reasoned, thankful to turn the conversation to a happier topic, "And we'll all be on the voting tour together."
"Yes. And we'll have the best of tonight. Especially with this fantastic cake." She reasoned, "Will you bring it out now?"
"If you want me to. You can do it, if you'd rather." Peeta offered, secretly hoping that she might want to bring it out herself and he might think of what he could say to Katniss when they inevitably ran into one another very publicly in the next few hours.
"No, no, of course not. You made it," as though she could sense his apprehension, but assumed it must be associated with the cake and nothing else, she declared, "And everybody should know that you did. It's about time you got some credit for something, Peeta Mellark." With that, she gave him a pat on the back and was gone. He was alone again with the cake and that small, folded piece of paper in his pocket. It had started to feel very heavy, and bulky, and he rubbed at it self-consciously, hoping for some reason that it didn't show.
With that he took a final breath and held it for as long as he could, the way he had each time he'd entered the Hunger Games to keep from hyperventilating on the platform. He took slow, even steps, acutely aware of his ever-present limp at he made his way out from the tent where they had kept the cake and into the crowd of dancing guests, most of whom fell silent in awe at the work of edible art that graced the tray in front of him.
Gale had never expected to get married, really. He had always wanted to, somewhere in his heart. His family, his younger siblings were so completely essential to his happiness, to making his life worth living, that he knew a family was in his future; but since when he was younger, the only girl he was interested in marrying was Katniss - and marriage was not in Katniss's vocabulary until Peeta Mellark came along - it had always seemed like a far-off daydream, rather than an actual possibility.
He hadn't even really let himself believe it until he and Madge marched, arm in arm, through a crowd of their loved ones earlier that evening. He had expected something catastrophic, an earthquake, an attack, to stop their marriage from happening. Needless to say, the ceremony had gone off without a hitch besides he and Madge both nearly dehydrating themselves to death, emotionally overwhelmed and sobbing like children.
He had never really 'pictured' his wedding day, the way he had heard others talk about. Wasn't sure he'd live to see it, but now, as he twirled around effortlessly with Posey standing on his feet to an upbeat fiddle tune, it felt real - almost as real as a hunt, as a fight, as making love - all things that brought him so painfully present, sometime Gale wondered if he ever truly lived when he was doing something else. His sister's bright, smiling face burned into his memory, and he vowed to himself to try to memorize every detail of the evening, to get him through the times in his life that were difficult, like fights with Madge, nightmares about the war, and fits of uncertainty over his fathering abilities.
He want to remember everything, even the peculiarity of the moment when Katniss Everdeen stalked her way over to him, pink dress floating behind her, exceedingly more gracefully than her body's agitated movements. She stopped at a respectful distance, and was patiently waiting for the song to end, but Gale sensed she needed to talk to someone - to talk to him. It had been a long time since Katniss actually needed anything from him.
He met Posy's gaze, and smiled at her. He was usually terrible at making excuses - Maysilee had ensured he was reminded of that daily - but this one rolled easily off his tongue, "Why don't you go have another piece of cake, Posy?"
She was a 9-year old girl who'd spent her early childhood in poverty. He did not need to ask her twice. She kissed his cheek and whisked off, giggling and grinning, glowing with a simple sort of innocence the way he never had as a child. He was grateful for the life that he had been able to give her in District 2.
Katniss seamlessly stepped into his arms, and once again, their bodies moved in sync, the way they hadn't since they were teenagers. The song changed to a slow, dreamy melody, more appropriate for swaying, than dancing. They had never danced together - not like this. He could recall awkwardly dancing near to her, but it was to faster, folksier dances that were more traditional to 12, never close like this.
Katniss's immediacy was bittersweet, as she leaned in close to him. For a while, they just swayed, not talking, barely even looking at each other - or rather, barely making eye contact. He couldn't help but look at her, taking her in, smelling her. She smelled like the woods, like the dying leaves and dewy grass. It shouldn't surprise him. He knew that's where she had been for most of the day. A part of him mourned that he hadn't been able to join her, to have one last day as a child in the woods with his puppy love, but it was far too late for that. He hadn't been that person for a long time.
The scent of the forests that surround District 12 was so familiar to him, especially when combined with the way that he remembered that Katniss always smelled, like rocks drying in the sun. It was an earthy scent, and its familiarity seductive. Katniss was beautiful, of course. Her piercing eyes, her sun-kissed skin, dappled with freckles, and her strength, which she probably didn't realize that she still possessed. Not only was it evident in her physical prowess - the line of her collarbones, the way she filled out the dress she had simply looked 'young' in as a girl, but in the way she carried herself, held her shoulders back. She was beginning to heal.
Katniss didn't look like his wife. She looked like him; and he loved her for it, but not in the way that he had thought as a boy.
He leaned into her neck, almost overwhelmed by her, and whispered in her ear, "Katniss Everdeen, you are beautiful."
She pulled away from him, abruptly. Uncertainty flashed across her features.
"What?" He asked her, wrapping an arm around the small of her back and pulling her back into the dance. She was all knotted muscles and stiff movements. She wrinkled her nose, seemed to be considering something, but smoothed it over with a light laugh.
"You don't look so bad yourself, Gale Hawthorne."
"Thanks," he felt himself grinning, and she relaxed under his touch. "So, what's got you all worked up? I hope you didn't come over here to upset your poor husband."
"Of course not," she breathed, "But that doesn't mean I'm not upset with him."
"And what did he do to you?"
"He- He doesn't think our marriage is real," she said this very quietly, and even over the quiet tones of song that was being played, Gale had to practically hold his breath to hear her. He thought she might say more, but she stayed silent, and so he let out the breath, and gave her a twirl.
When he brought her back into him, he wrapped an arm around the small of her back, just to be certain she couldn't detach and find some other sympathetic ear to dance with her. Only when he had her securely, did he dare to correct her, "He doesn't think your marriage is legal. Actually, scratch that, he knows it's not. Everyone knows it's not."
Katniss let out a huff, and didn't say anything, but didn't attempt a fast exit either.
"Maybe that's- really hard on him, in the face of all this," Gale tried, sweeping his eyes across the celebrations for a moment, allowing himself to feel renewed pride in his wedding day, then he brought his attention back to Katniss. Defending Peeta was not something he had made a habit of until very recently, but from what he had learned about his once rival for Katniss's affections in the past weeks; Gale knew that his and Madge's proud and public ceremony must be devastating for him.
"I guess," Katniss had gotten even quieter.
"What?" Gale teased, trying to get a rise out of her. It worked.
"I guess you're right," she hissed at him. She squirmed in his grip. He just held her tighter.
"I'm not saying I'm always right, but if I'm taking Peeta's side over yours, Catnip, you know I am." He tried to keep his voice soft, light, but the use of her old nickname seemed to hit home. Tears welled in the corners of her eyes, and fell silently and stubbornly down her cheeks as she leaned into him, and again, they swayed in silence.
This could have been their wedding. If things had played out like Gale had imagined, if Prim had never been reaped, if it hadn't been for Peeta Mellark... if... if... if... Katniss would have cried then, too - about their inevitable children, and the possibility that they might be taken away by the Games, by starvation. Gale realized that he had been a fool. He never would have wanted to marry Katniss when things were like that.
"Do you think," he paused, "That you would have found Peeta anyway? Without the Games?"
"I don't know," Katniss's voice was hard again, but she didn't pull away. She must have stopped crying. "I try not to think about what things would have been like without the Games... doesn't do any good... but... yes. I like to think I would have. I need him. I've never needed anybody, but I need him."
"Then maybe," Gale braced himself for her to flee, "You should give the guy a break, and consider his feelings about your marriage. You guys could have a do over... I guess. Toast again, sign a paper. Hell, Madge and I could witness for you, it would be the least we could-"
"I'll think about it."
It was the best he, and Peeta, could hope for. She didn't run away, at least, but it was clear she was done talking about her problems with Peeta to Gale.
"Daddy!" A tiny voice squeaked from below.
Maysilee, whom Gale was starting to assume would interrupt almost any time it was the most inconvenient, was suddenly tugging at his pant leg. He broke the dance with Katniss, and still, she did not run. Instead, she picked up Maysilee so that she could be eye level with Gale.
Maysilee's serious eyes met his, as she pointed out, with her tiny, chubby finger, across a few dancing couples to where Finn and River appeared to be having a "funny face stare down" in which they were making the strangest faces, trying to make the other laugh. It made Gale laugh, certainly.
"What is going on there?" he asked his daughter, choking down his laughter because she looked more frazzled than he'd ever seen her.
"They both want to dance with me," Maysilee's tone was level but belied by a strong undertone of childish frustration. "And I said we could all dance together. But they don't want that."
Gale burst out laughing, and Katniss turned beet red, almost dropping Maysilee in embarrassment. It seemed that love triangles were a genetic trait in Seam women. All Gale could say to his poor distraught daughter was, "You'll understand when you're a little older."
"That's fine, Daddy," Maysilee replied, humorlessly. "But what do I do right now?"
"I have an idea," Katniss hitched Maysilee up close so she could whisper into the girl's hair. Gale couldn't make out quite what she'd said, but when she set Maysilee down, she was off like a lightning bolt, darting through the dancing legs until she was out of sight.
"What did you tell her?" Gale asked Katniss, who looked a little too pleased with herself.
"I just told her to dance with who she wanted to dance with." Katniss smirked.
Gale was about to inquire further, when he caught the peculiar mischievous twinkle in Katniss's eye and followed her gaze to where Maysilee was curled against Peeta's chest. He was holding her well off the ground, her feet dangling, little shoes long gone, and her tights shredded from the day's activities.
Gale laughed again, and turned back to face Katniss, who met him with a kiss on the cheek, "She's beautiful, Gale. The best thing you've ever done." It wasn't an insult.
"Best thing I'll ever do," he agreed.
After just the tiniest beat, Katniss turned her gaze back to Maysilee, and said, quickly, "I want her to have Cinna's dresses."
It was Gale's inclination to protest. He had always hated the way that the Capitol had paraded Katniss around, pretty as a picture, only to send her to slaughter not once, but twice. He thought better of it, and bit his tongue. He knew that she must have some good reason, and chose to let her explain.
"I'm going to keep some of them, but..." She trailed off, miles away. She was probably remembering her stylist, Cinna, whom Gale owed a great debt, though they had never met, since it was Cinna who first showed the entire world what Gale himself had seen inside Katniss all along - beauty, and of course, fire, both destructive and rejuvenating, passionate and relentless. Fire had a duality. The same could be said for most things which were a part of nature. Katniss Everdeen was no exception.
"They were meant to be worn by a beautiful young girl from the Seam, not... some scarred woman who... not by me," was all she could say.
"Thank you," was the only reply that seemed appropriate.
Katniss shot Gale a fleeting look. He could sense that she was about to flee. Maybe it was the shift in her step, or something more subtle, like a shift in the breeze. He made an attempt to hold her, but, as similar attempts had failed when they were younger, so did this one. She seemed to slip through his fingers until she was a good few feet away from him, and retreating fast.
He realized, with a start, that this was partially to do with the fact that Madge had come to cut in. He panicked, found her face. She didn't look angry. Quite the opposite, she was intoxicated from the wine, the love, and of course, Peeta's wonderful cake. As Katniss bowed out, and he took his wife in his arms, he realized, that after over 20 years of being on the outside of the Mellark Bakery looking in, he had finally had a piece of the cake he'd coveted. As he and Madge drifted into a swaying rhythm, and he felt her hands clasped around his neck like she might never let go, he decided it had been worth the wait.
Peeta was pulled away from serving his cake and basking in the waves of compliments that accompanied each bite by a very cheerfully insistent Maysilee and her demands to dance.
He acquiesced immediately, but was surprised when she firmly planted each of her tiny feet on top of his. His heart sank when he realized what she wanted. Though he had never tried it, he knew his prosthetic would never be able to lift a little girl. It stung to think that he would never be able to do that, not with Maysilee, not for their children (if he could ever change Katniss's mind).
"Why aren't you dancing?" Maysilee persisted, with a tiny tug on his arm.
Because, I'm an incomplete person. He shoved the dark thought out of his head as quickly as it had appeared. He picked her up and placed her just a step away from him and sat down on the grass. Maysilee knelt down next to him, her silvery eyes, so much like Katniss's, shining in the moonlight. He was at once extremely glad that she would never know the reaping, and sad that he still would have to explain this to her. No reason to lie to children, though.
"A long time ago," he began, as he unlaced his dress shoe, "Katniss and I had to do something very dangerous that we didn't want to do. And we saved each other. But I got hurt," he slowly removed his shoe, "and I couldn't... well the doctors couldn't keep my leg," he rolled his sock off and displayed the flat plastic foot, the strange, hinging ankle and the long, fake thickness of his prosthetic calf. All of it eerie white plastic strangeness. Maysilee let out a tiny gasp. "So they gave me this leg. And it's attached pretty good, but I don't think it would stay on if we danced on it." He finished quietly.
She was silent for a long while, but then, her voice came in a quick whisper, "Is it a secret?"
Peeta was taken aback, "Well, no. I mean, it's not a secret." He didn't feel she needed to know exactly how public the loss of his leg had been.
"What's under there?" she asked, leaning just a bit closer.
"Nothing. My leg is gone. It got hurt too bad to get better so they gave me this one instead."
"Hmm," she said, examining it critically, "Does it come off?"
"Yeah. I don't take it off though, much. Just sometimes to clean it."
"Does it hurt?" Her eyes were narrowed now. She held her little hands tightly together on her lap.
"Sometimes. But not mostly," he moved his knee so that she could see how the ankle worked.
"Can I touch it?" She whispered.
"If you want to. Sure."
She unclasped her hands and took hold of the foot with both of them. "Cold!" she proclaimed. "Can you feel it?"
"Nope," Peeta shook his head ruefully, "not a thing."
Maysilee's head snapped up, and searched his face with incredible concentration, "Does it make you sad?" she asked quizzically.
He was quiet for a moment, but then decided again that it was better to tell the truth. "Sometimes."
She scrunched up her face in displeasure, "But why? If it doesn't hurt?"
"I'm glad I can walk," he tried to explain, "but it does make me feel sad. I do miss my real leg."
"Well, of course you do. It doesn't look like a leg at all." She said matter-of-factly, "but if I had a leg, I would color on it. That way it would be beautiful. Maybe you should color it with flowers?"
"Paint it?" Peeta mused wonderingly.
"Yes. I remember, Reela, a girl from my school, she broked her arm, and we all got to color on her cast. It was beautiful." She looked at him, expecting that he hold up his side of the conversation, but his mind had gone immediately to his paint box. He could make this foot like his own. It would never be the same, but he could make it his own. He could make it complete. "And plus," Maysilee added, "I think it is cool and tough."
He scooped her into his arms for a hug, fighting back tears. "Thanks, Maysilee. Do you want to dance now?"
"Yes. But you have to wear your shoes!" She said sternly. After he had replaced his shoes and socks and picked himself off the ground, Maysilee pointed to his leg again, "See? It is a secret! I bet nobody even knows it's there!"
"Well," Peeta said, "Now you know," and swept her into his arms for a dance as she giggled. He had never danced with someone quite so small, and so he resorted to just picking her up and letting her sort of dangle from his arms, her tiny hands resting around his neck. She leaned her head on his chest, the way she had obviously seen the women doing in other dancing couples around the field.
It actually made Peeta blush a bit, not out of any actually romantic inclinations, but rather, at the slight absurdity of this tiny girl, trying to dance with him like a full grown woman might. She smelled sweet, like Madge, and earthy like Gale. The perfect combination of her parents. Her hair was soft as he brushed some of it behind her ear that had drifted into his face.
He had learned a lot about this girl, this tiny person while he had baked her parents' toast with her. She was serious, and smart, and quiet, and interested in just about everything. He was in love with her, more than any child he had ever met. If he and Katniss ever felt ready for children, he hoped to have a daughter like her.
This dance was no exception to her quiet, serious nature. She stayed nestled into him, only sighing or humming along to the music as they swayed. He could feel her tiny heart pitter pattering against his loud, pounding one. He let himself relax, and let his eyes drift around the Meadow. He had been watching Katniss dance with Gale for some time and found, even as he was a little irritated with her, that it did not bother him. The way Gale was looking at her seemed a bit... intense considering that it was his wedding day, but he knew that it was their first time in such close proximity in years, and how could he blame her? Katniss was beautiful.
It brought him a small bit of relief when he caught sight of Madge just as she approached Katniss and Gale. Katniss gave an obnoxious but playful bow and stepped back, as the newly married couple wrapped themselves together. He tried not to watch Katniss, knowing it might break his heart if she didn't come to him, and so he shifted his gaze shifted to Beetee, who was having a lively conversation with Greasy Sae.
They were interrupted by Hazelle and Bristol who were came waltzing through. Her dance card for the night had been filled by the surviving members of Gale's old mining crew - no one wanting to let her feel her husband's absence on such a joyous day. A swirl of pink caught his eye, Annie's dress floating ephemerally as she and Johanna, as mindlessly in love as could be, twirling and twirling but never releasing their hands, despite the somewhat confused stares from some of the older guests. He found Gale's little brothers, Vick and Rory learning a strange and energetic dance that involved a lot of stomping and clapping from their new friends from District 10, Caridee and Gentry.
His eyes, again, found Madge and Gale. They looked so whole, so complete together as they danced. Peeta wondered for a moment if he and Katniss looked as striking together as they did. Peeta certainly didn't judge himself to be as tall or as handsome as Gale, and though Katniss was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, he knew that Madge had a classic beauty that was undeniable. They looked right together; balanced. He gave Maysilee a little nudge with his forehead, and pointed with the hand not holding her up,
"See how happy your mom and dad are?" Peeta whispered. Maysilee let out a great yawn and nodded. In the past few days, Peeta had learned that sleep crept up on the girl with incredible swiftness.
"I think they have a crush on each other," she mumbled sleepily against his shoulder.
"You know what? I think so too," Peeta confirmed, as he felt the little girl become heavier against him. He wondered, briefly, what he was going to do with the bridal couple's sleepy four-year-old. He didn't have to wonder for long, when he caught Hazelle's eye from across the field. She was to him in an instant and taking Maysilee into her arms.
"Gramma," Maysilee mumbled, "I wanna dance some more,"
"You can dance all you want in your dreams, my little Maysie." Hazelle said in that gentle but firm voice that could only be perfected after twenty-some years of mothering. Then she carried her granddaughter out into the night without a glance back at Peeta.
Peeta felt he would never get the chance to act on his own accord, as Katniss had somehow materialized before him, looking a bit sheepish. He tried to harden his face, but he could only think of how beautiful she looked in the moonlight, how glad he was to be married to her, and how wonderful the rest of their lives could be. He offered out his hands without a word, and she fell into his arms.
"Sorry," she said in an almost imperceptible voice, clinging to him carefully with her fingers spread wide against his back.
"Me too," he replied, as he rested his cheek on her soft, forest scented hair, "Want to dance?" he offered after they had stood there for a while. "I've had quite the warm up with Maysilee," he smiled at her. She nodded, and they swayed into the fray, dancing and twirling and laughing together, without a thought of the past or the future.