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The man blushed a little. “She wasn’t my wife before the plague. But I didn’t think it was proper for a minister to travel with a woman who wasn’t his wife. It would make people question my moral character.”
Justin blinked. “You’re a minister, you say?
Justin took the stairs two at a time and ran down the short hallway to his and Carly’s bedroom. He threw open the door, and saw Sam leap to the side to avoid getting smacked by it, but she was nowhere in sight. He called out her name.
She lifted the hem of the dust ruffle and poked her head out from under the bed. That’s when he realized he must have alarmed her by running up the stairs like that. “Is everything all right?”
“Everything’s great!” Justin said. He reached under the bed, took hold of her arms, and tugged her out. “Marry me.”
Carly gaped at him. “What?”
He laughed. “That came out wrong. I meant to say, Will you marry me?”
“What, like now?”
For a long, terrible moment, he thought she was going to refuse, and his insecurities began to creep back in. But then he realized he hadn’t explained the situation in his excitement and to her, it must have come out of nowhere. She’d been worried about a gunfight, and he’d run up there and blurted out his request.
He tucked a lock of her caramel-colored hair behind her ear and looked down into the warm brown eyes of the woman he wanted to make his wife. His doubts and fears stemmed from a lifetime of abandonment, and they still whispered to him that she could do better and might change her mind once she had other options. He remembered what Carly had once said about wishing her head could convince her heart. He knew Carly wasn’t that kind of woman, but a lifetime of scars wouldn’t disappear overnight.
This was his chance to have something he’d always thought was impossible—a family. A wife and baby of his own. Carter had urged him to seize happiness instead of holding it off from fear of what the future might bring, and that’s exactly what Justin intended to do. He kissed Carly, light and sweet. “There’s a preacher downstairs.”
Carly’s expression turned from confusion to delight. “Why didn’t you say so? Of course I’ll marry you!”
Justin wanted to thank her, to promise he’d be a good husband for as long as she’d have him, but his throat was too tight for words.
“Dearly beloved, we join today Carly and Justin in the bonds of holy matrimony...”
Justin wished he’d brought Carly a dress. Any kind of dress. She shouldn’t have to get married wearing a pair of sweats, though they were her newest, nicest clothing.
Justin had a ring for her, at least. The minister’s wife had pulled her own from her finger and insisted they keep it for their own. “I’m not attached to it. I got it from a store after we got married because I thought we should have one. I can get another. And your bride needs a ring.” Justin was so grateful that he had given her one of his precious jars of peaches for it.
When it came time for Carly to make her vows to him, she slipped her father’s ring, the one that had The Unit’s insignia, onto his finger. He was so touched she’d given it to him that tears stung his eyes. He knew how much it meant to her, and he would have cherished it for that reason alone, but it was also a symbol of their union.
As though through divine intervention, both rings fit perfectly.
Justin promised to comfort, honor and keep Carly through sickness and health—those words had special resonance—and to be faithful as long as he lived. He meant it with all of his heart. Tears sparkled in Carly’s eyes as she promised the same. She didn’t wait for the reverend to pronounce them husband and wife before she jumped into Justin’s arms and kissed him with such enthusiasm she nearly knocked him over.
Reverend Davis had blank marriage certificates in his shopping cart, and he filled one out for them; Mrs. Davis signed as one of the witnesses. The other line would remain blank, making the event dubiously legal—if such a thing as law existed anymore—but it was the closest they would ever come. In the back pages of his Bible, the reverend wrote their names and, after a bit of discussion and guesswork, the date of their marriage.
Carly insisted the Reverend and his wife stay for dinner. She made a tuna noodle casserole, which turned out well despite the powdered ingredients. The Reverend said it was the best meal they’d had in months, the first warm meal they’d had in weeks.
Justin pitied them, as neither was suited for this new world. They had been staying in abandoned houses, lighting small fires when they could, and slowly trying to make their way south. The Reverend was content that God would take care of them until their mission—whatever God willed it to be—was done, and then he would call them Home.
Carly listened with sharp attentiveness to the Reverend’s explanation. She had told Justin about similar thoughts she’d had; she and Justin might have been brought together for a reason.
They were a nice couple and pleasant conversationalists, and Justin knew Carly felt bad for sending them on their way after supper. Justin had been generous in his trades. He’d practically given away the clothing they wanted. He knew he could have been shrewder in his dealings, but his emotions led had the way. Perhaps Carly was having a greater influence on him than he’d thought.
“Maybe we should have asked them to stay the night,” Carly mused as their bundled-up figures disappeared down the road.
“Mmm, really?” He bent down to nip her ear. “On our wedding night?”
Her eyes widened, and she turned to him with that look in her eyes that always sent a burning bolt of lust through him.
“Do you think they’ll be all right?”
Justin kissed her before he answered. “I gave them directions to that little fishing cabin along the creek. I left wood and supplies in case you ever had to go there, remember? They’ll be warm and safe.” His hand toyed with the zipper on the front of her outfit.
“I need to put away the leftovers,” she said reluctantly.
