It was as if God himself sanctioned this wedding.
Adaira’s eyes scanned the crowd. She recognized some of the attendees – most of her family and the people she knew were probably in the church, smushed together in the pews, along with Sawny’s family. She did not see any of Sawny’s Keppoch kin in this crowd.
If they carried any banners, they must have brought them inside.
“We go up the steps and wait at the door. The acolytes will open once the groom and the priest are in place,” her grandfather told her in a gruff voice.
She was glad for the guidance as her mind started to drift and her nerves hummed under her skin.
This was it. She was actually getting married to Sawny. Before all these people and God himself. Finally.
Her thoughts were like loose ends of a rope unraveling, and she was grateful to be surrounded by her family leading her to the altar. Her knees had grown weak and she surely would have stumbled if her father had not gripped her arm so tightly.
Her grandfather had clasped his firm fingers around her upper arm, and with her father holding her right arm, they practically lifted her up the steps to the looming narthex doors, which were highly polished and tightly sealed.
With her beloved groom on the other side.
When I see Sawny, I’ll be fine,she told herself.I just need to see his face, and all my worries and nervousness will abate . . .
The crowd behind her cheered and fell in behind the wedding party with the intent of clustering around the door to watch once she entered.
Everyone, it seemed, wanted to witness this union.
No one more than me,Adaira thought through the buzzing in her head.
Why hadn’t the acolytes opened the door yet?
Her father and grandfather appeared unconcerned about the door and straightened next to her. The cheering behind her died down as Adaira stared at the sunlit door.
And waited.
The dying cheers died down to an uncomfortable quiet after several seconds. Her grandfather shifted from one foot to the next and her father’s hold on her arm tightened.
The afternoon sun was hot on her skin, and a line of perspiration dotted her backside.
Still, they waited, and her father’s grip became like iron.
Was he concerned about the closed door? Shouldn’t it have opened right away? The moment she stepped up? Sawny should have been in place long before she arrived. Her already sotted mind spun wildly. Was something wrong with the church? With the priest? With Sawny’s family? Where they waiting on something important?
What –?
Before she could finish the thought, her grandfather grumbled under his breath and reached for the door. Opening it only wide enough to slip through and Adaira and Seamus could not see inside, Alistair disappeared into the darkened interior.
So dark compared to the bright outside.
So dark . . .
He did not return right away.
The buzzing in her head twisted and grew painful, thorny and prickling, and she felt someone close in on her from behind, shading her from the sun and the view of the crowd.
Reade. It had to be Reade, because her father stretched out his other hand to stop his son from storming the church.
Grandfather will figure it out,she told herself, using Alistair as a soothing balm for her heated mind.‘Tis a minor issue with the priest and ‘twill be but a minute.
Then both doors did open, and her heart surged to the heavens, only to crash hard to her feet when she looked past her grandfather to the altar.
Which was empty.
