The CEO Buys In
Page 93
The trumpet was joined by the organ in the “Trumpet Voluntary.” Chloe twisted in her seat to see a young man and woman, in uniforms from two different services, pace up the aisle in that same controlled stride.
“My cousins Emily and Christopher,” Nathan murmured. “Navy and Air Force.”
Behind them came one woman, dressed in a simple sheath of peach satin, holding a bouquet of cream roses.
“Angel’s sister, Sarita.” Nathan’s voice went tight.
As Sarita reached the front of the church, the music changed to the “Wedding March,” and the congregation stood. A small woman wearing a short, floating cream chiffon dress started down the aisle. Her bouquet held peach roses, and the same flowers were woven into the dark-brown braid circling her head like a coronet. As she came closer, a waft of air-conditioning flattened the chiffon against the bride’s stomach, and Chloe could see the telltale swell of pregnancy.
She turned forward as the bride passed and caught an expression of such heartbreaking joy and uncertainty on the groom’s face that tears pricked at her eyes.
“Your father loves her,” she whispered.
He glanced down at her. “He loved my mother. He loved me. It made no difference in how he treated us.”
Chloe sucked in a breath as the truth hit her. Nathan disliked Angel because his father treated her differently—better—than he had his first wife. He didn’t want his father to be kinder and more considerate of his second wife. It would make his mother seem less worthy somehow. She could understand and even sympathize with his feelings, but they would separate him from the father whose approval he still sought.
She tucked her hand into the crook of Nathan’s elbow, hoping she could pull some of the tension from him.
The minister motioned them to sit, and the ceremony proceeded. When Nathan’s father kissed his new wife, he did so with a tenderness and passion that brought forth a soft, collective sigh from the female wedding guests.
“We ask the congregation to precede the bride and groom from the church for the traditional arch of sabers,” the minister announced before he gave the blessing and the organ and trumpet once again swelled into triumphant sound.
Chloe was excited about seeing the famous crossed swords. As the family followed the three wedding attendants down the aisle, she noticed the curious gazes aimed at Nathan and her. People at the base were interested in the famous prodigal son.
They came out the doors to find four Marines indicating where guests should stand on either side of the walk leading from the church. The southern sun shed enough heat to make it uncomfortably warm, but the bulk of the guests were military and stood straight and tall in their dark jackets with their white hats on. As soon as the last guest exited, Chloe heard a barked command from inside. Into the light marched a Marine with two lines of four of his fellow soldiers following him in perfect unison. They proceeded between the two walls of guests until their leader snapped another command. The two lines halted, pivoted, and drew their swords as one, holding the sabers point down until two more Marines reopened the church doors.
The bride and groom emerged and stopped as the honor guard’s commander brought his troops to attention, their swords held upright against their shoulders.
“Present swords,” he ordered.
The sword tips crossed, forming the arch. General Trainor and Angel trod solemnly through the arch. As they passed, each pair of Marines lowered their swords back to their sides until the couple reached the final two. Those brought their sabers down in front of the wedding couple, forcing them to a halt. The honor guard’s commander lowered his voice to say, “You must kiss the bride to pass.”
“By whose orders?” the general snapped back.
“Cupid’s, sir,” the commander said, breaking into a grin.
“Never heard of him,” the general said. “Must be some rock from Washington.” Everyone except the honor guard laughed. They were still standing stiffly at attention. “Well, at least it’s an order that won’t get me in trouble.” He bent and kissed Angel softly on the lips.
The obstructing swords were lifted, and the guests applauded as the general and his bride slid into a waiting limousine. The sword bearers returned their weapons to their scabbards with a snick of metal, and the crowd dispersed to their cars.
Chloe had been so caught up in the beauty and precision of the ceremony that she hadn’t noticed the perspiration trickling down her spine. As Nathan drew her toward their limo where it waited just across the road, she grimaced at the dampness. “That’s an impressive way to make an exit,” she said.
“The Marines are good at pomp and circumstance,” Nathan said in a tone that indicated he wasn’t impressed at all.
Ed and Ben caught up with them.
“Why couldn’t they do that indoors?” Ben complained, blotting his forehead with his coat sleeve.
“Marines don’t feel heat or cold,” Nathan said with that same edge.
“The hell they don’t,” Ed said. “They’re just tougher than a little weather.”
“I thought it was magnificent,” Chloe said.
“They know how to put on a show,” Ben agreed, standing aside as Nathan handed Chloe into the backseat.
She slid gratefully onto the cool, smooth leather. The driver had placed glasses of iced water with lemon slices in the cup holders. Chloe snatched one up, drinking down half of it in one long, deliciously chilled gulp.
“My cousins Emily and Christopher,” Nathan murmured. “Navy and Air Force.”
Behind them came one woman, dressed in a simple sheath of peach satin, holding a bouquet of cream roses.
“Angel’s sister, Sarita.” Nathan’s voice went tight.
As Sarita reached the front of the church, the music changed to the “Wedding March,” and the congregation stood. A small woman wearing a short, floating cream chiffon dress started down the aisle. Her bouquet held peach roses, and the same flowers were woven into the dark-brown braid circling her head like a coronet. As she came closer, a waft of air-conditioning flattened the chiffon against the bride’s stomach, and Chloe could see the telltale swell of pregnancy.
She turned forward as the bride passed and caught an expression of such heartbreaking joy and uncertainty on the groom’s face that tears pricked at her eyes.
“Your father loves her,” she whispered.
He glanced down at her. “He loved my mother. He loved me. It made no difference in how he treated us.”
Chloe sucked in a breath as the truth hit her. Nathan disliked Angel because his father treated her differently—better—than he had his first wife. He didn’t want his father to be kinder and more considerate of his second wife. It would make his mother seem less worthy somehow. She could understand and even sympathize with his feelings, but they would separate him from the father whose approval he still sought.
She tucked her hand into the crook of Nathan’s elbow, hoping she could pull some of the tension from him.
The minister motioned them to sit, and the ceremony proceeded. When Nathan’s father kissed his new wife, he did so with a tenderness and passion that brought forth a soft, collective sigh from the female wedding guests.
“We ask the congregation to precede the bride and groom from the church for the traditional arch of sabers,” the minister announced before he gave the blessing and the organ and trumpet once again swelled into triumphant sound.
Chloe was excited about seeing the famous crossed swords. As the family followed the three wedding attendants down the aisle, she noticed the curious gazes aimed at Nathan and her. People at the base were interested in the famous prodigal son.
They came out the doors to find four Marines indicating where guests should stand on either side of the walk leading from the church. The southern sun shed enough heat to make it uncomfortably warm, but the bulk of the guests were military and stood straight and tall in their dark jackets with their white hats on. As soon as the last guest exited, Chloe heard a barked command from inside. Into the light marched a Marine with two lines of four of his fellow soldiers following him in perfect unison. They proceeded between the two walls of guests until their leader snapped another command. The two lines halted, pivoted, and drew their swords as one, holding the sabers point down until two more Marines reopened the church doors.
The bride and groom emerged and stopped as the honor guard’s commander brought his troops to attention, their swords held upright against their shoulders.
“Present swords,” he ordered.
The sword tips crossed, forming the arch. General Trainor and Angel trod solemnly through the arch. As they passed, each pair of Marines lowered their swords back to their sides until the couple reached the final two. Those brought their sabers down in front of the wedding couple, forcing them to a halt. The honor guard’s commander lowered his voice to say, “You must kiss the bride to pass.”
“By whose orders?” the general snapped back.
“Cupid’s, sir,” the commander said, breaking into a grin.
“Never heard of him,” the general said. “Must be some rock from Washington.” Everyone except the honor guard laughed. They were still standing stiffly at attention. “Well, at least it’s an order that won’t get me in trouble.” He bent and kissed Angel softly on the lips.
The obstructing swords were lifted, and the guests applauded as the general and his bride slid into a waiting limousine. The sword bearers returned their weapons to their scabbards with a snick of metal, and the crowd dispersed to their cars.
Chloe had been so caught up in the beauty and precision of the ceremony that she hadn’t noticed the perspiration trickling down her spine. As Nathan drew her toward their limo where it waited just across the road, she grimaced at the dampness. “That’s an impressive way to make an exit,” she said.
“The Marines are good at pomp and circumstance,” Nathan said in a tone that indicated he wasn’t impressed at all.
Ed and Ben caught up with them.
“Why couldn’t they do that indoors?” Ben complained, blotting his forehead with his coat sleeve.
“Marines don’t feel heat or cold,” Nathan said with that same edge.
“The hell they don’t,” Ed said. “They’re just tougher than a little weather.”
“I thought it was magnificent,” Chloe said.
“They know how to put on a show,” Ben agreed, standing aside as Nathan handed Chloe into the backseat.
She slid gratefully onto the cool, smooth leather. The driver had placed glasses of iced water with lemon slices in the cup holders. Chloe snatched one up, drinking down half of it in one long, deliciously chilled gulp.
