The Source

Page 76

“Yes, I remember it.”
“A fortune in gold and jewels had been sewn up in its lining. A fortune befitting a prince.”
“Yes, Jilo picked up on that and told me.”
“Well, Colin and I have been discussing what we should do with the proceeds from this unexpected windfall. We have decided to donate everything to the research of children’s cancer, because that, in the end, is really what took our Peter from us. We are donating everything he carried with him except this.” She opened her purse and pulled out a silver baby’s rattle, monogrammed with the initials PDT, Peter Daniel Tierney. “This belonged to him. We sent it with him,” she paused. “I cannot explain why—I don’t understand it myself—but it would mean the world to me if you’d carry this with you today, if you could find it in your heart to include our other Peter in your marriage to my adopted son.”
“I would consider it an honor,” I said, taking the rattle from her.
“I love you, Mercy Taylor,” Claire said, tears bursting from her eyes and rolling down her cheeks.
“That’s Mercy Tierney,” I said.
Claire smiled through her tears and reached out with both hands to grasp my stomach. “And you too, you little monkey. Grandma loves you.” She stood and walked to the door. “I’ll send your entourage back in.” She smiled at me once more, then left.
I’d experienced the magical warping of time many times over now, but it couldn’t begin to compare to the way natural time moved on my wedding day. One moment I was sitting in the hotel, getting the final touches to my makeup and hair, and the next I stood in the park beside Oliver, waiting for the musical cue to start toward the climbing tree. “You good?” he asked, leaning back and taking in the full view of a niece so done up he could barely recognize her.
I lifted my bare foot and wiggled my newly polished toes. “Never better.”
Iris took honors as the first mother-of-the-bride. I watched as her new boyfriend, Sam, escorted her up the aisle. Ellen followed her as the second mother-of-the-bride. I had expected Peter’s buddy Tom to serve as her escort, but as I squinted against the sun, I realized that Ellen was holding on to Adam’s arm. It shocked me to see him there. He’d told me he was done with us, all of us, and I had believed it to be true. I didn’t know what had led to his change of heart, and frankly I did not care. I squeezed Oliver’s hand. “You good?” I asked.
His eyes were wide with surprise. “Never better,” he said, his face beaming.
Finally, Jilo, the third mother-of-the-bride, proceeded between the rows of white folding chairs on the arm of her great-grandson, Martell. As she settled into her seat, I heard big Colin call out to the band, “Strike ’er up, boys!” “Haste to the Wedding” came from the temporary bandstand Peter himself had helped build. Oliver looked at me with questioning eyes. I nodded once, and we wound our way through the open field. There, waiting beneath its sheltering limbs stood the man I loved, the man I had always loved, my Peter. I looked into his mismatched eyes and everything else faded away.
Next thing I knew, music was swelling up all around me as Peter spun me in his arms and the party officially began. The happy faces of well-wishers whisked in and out of view. I danced from Peter’s arms to Oliver’s to Colin’s. And then Adam stood before me. He bowed to me and extended his hand. I took it gladly.
I was pleased it was a waltz, and a slow one to boot. It gave me a chance to catch my breath and find out why Adam had changed his mind about us. “I’m so happy you’re here,” I said. “But what changed? I thought you’d seen too much, been pushed too far. I thought we’d lost you forever.”
“I thought so too,” he said, sadness creeping into his eyes, even though he was still smiling. “Emily showed me the worst side of you all. She showed me things I don’t think the rest of you know about yourselves.”
“Like what?” I asked, forgetting all about dancing.
He laughed and led me back into the dance. “There’s plenty of time to get into all that, but today is about celebrating. Like I said, Emily showed me the worst side of witches. But you and Iris and Ellen, and hell, even Oliver, y’all have shown me the best. You risked your life to save me. Besides, in spite of it all, I love that impossible uncle of yours. No matter what.”
Peter had been pulled aside by his buddies and was being fed whiskey chasers for the champagne he’d already been downing. “Not too much there, buster,” I called as Adam waltzed me past him.
“Just married and she’s already calling the shots,” one of Peter’s friends said and slapped him on the back.
“That’s fine by me,” Peter said and stole me back from Adam, but not before I’d placed a kiss on the detective’s cheek. Adam surrendered me to my husband, and Peter smiled down at me, holding me tight in his arms. And I, well, I had never felt more love before in my entire life. I knew toasts had been made, I knew we’d cut cake at some point, and I had vague recollections of being pulled in one direction and then the other by a photographer who was bound and determined to capture every moment. But I knew those moments would be the ones I’d always remember—standing in Peter’s arms, enjoying a golden, happy blur with everyone I loved around me, and the fine people of Savannah, even those who would not truly call themselves my friends. Before I realized it, the sun had slid to the western sky and was sending its light down at an angle that announced twilight would follow not far behind. And as the jigs had given way to waltzes, in fine Celtic tradition, with the setting of the sun, the waltzes gave way to a few tearful laments.
“We should get going soon,” Peter leaned in and whispered in my ear. I nodded my agreement. As an anchor, I couldn’t travel too far from Savannah for a honeymoon, so Oliver had arranged for us to enjoy a week’s stay on Sea Island. No one in their right mind would complain about that, but I would have settled for Tybee as long as I had Peter with me.
“The only thing left,” I said, “is to toss the bouquet.” I loosened the ribbon around the flowers and removed the baby rattle Claire had wanted me to carry.
“What’s that?” Peter asked, reaching to take it from my hand.
“Just something old from your mother. You go find her and give it back to her, okay? I’m going to go hunt down Jilo. She’ll never forgive me if I toss the bouquet and don’t aim it in her direction.”
“I think you are right about that,” Peter said and leaned in to kiss me. “I’ll meet you beneath the climbing tree?”
I nodded. “Always and for the rest of my life.” He had a hard time letting go of me, but my hand finally dropped from his as he headed toward the bandstand in search of his parents. My eyes followed him, not wanting to lose sight of him, but finally I turned my mind toward finding Jilo. I had little trouble picking her out as I scanned the field. She had moved away from the crowd, and was sitting in a white folding chair that had been moved into the shade of a live oak.
Her eyes were partially closed, giving her the appearance of a napping cat. “You sure are a beautiful girl,” she said, raising her head as I neared. “You Jilo’s girl, you know. Don’t you ever let anyone tell you otherwise, you hear? Jilo, she love you as sure as if she’d carried you.” I hiked up my skirt a little and knelt down before her. “You get up now,” she scolded. “You gonna ruin yo’ pretty dress.” She reached out and traced her hand along my cheek.