Page 97 of The Beauty Who Loved Him

For today, it was his wedding day, after all, Vaslav let Igor have a pass.

“Time to get married,” Demyan said as he exited the church behind Vaslav.

Right.

The only reason they were all gathered here today.

Wasn’t that what mattered?

*

Demyan pulled the fur-trimmed cloak from Vera’s shoulders with a quick sweep of silk along her back and shoulders. Fast enough to keep any stray snowflakes from passing from the silk to her. The usher, one of three people employed by the non-profit church, stepped forward to take the item from Vera’s father but other than a shift of the skirt of her dress or a peek at her hand running under her veil, the doors leading from the parish to the lobby hid her from view.

“I still think those center doors should be glass, too, no?” the minister asked behind Vaslav at the altar.

Damn near everything else was glass, side to side, back, front, and above. Spotless glass between wooden beams that crisscrossed overhead and fit together like walls that looked out into a snow-covered forest and the white canvas of the sky. Standing in the middle and staring up, it was like breathing in and then out to the world.

If God wasn’t here, peace sure was.

“I didn’t build the damn thing, David,” Vaslav said.

Just paid for it.

“Of course, you’re right.”

Thankfully, the man quieted when the latches on the door handles at the far end of the black-stained hardwood aisle rattled. Only thirty feet in length, with double rows of bench pews cushioned with crushed black velvet every three feet on either side, Vera didn’t have far to walk to him once she was beyond the doors.

In his mind, it took ages.

He hoped that meant he wouldn’t soon forget the sight of Vera when she did finally step through the doors with her father at her side. The knee-length lace veil kept even her face from his view, except for the swath of red that painted her lips a bright hue behind the haze of white. Far longer in the back, the veil fell like a train down to the floor.

She kept both hands tucked together at her father’s elbow and leaned her head Demyan’s way when he smiled. His lips moved with words Vaslav and the handful of people at the front of the church couldn’t hear.

Everything about the day had been easy because Vera made it that way. She didn’t fuss, barely asked for anything to be happy to smile, and hadn’t even bothered with a bouquet of flowers. What she wanted, she had told Vaslav in bed late the night before after days of snide silence and stubborn hearts between them, was him.

Just him.

Waiting at the end.

So, he was.

For love, it seemed like an easy trade.

*