Page 207 of The Woman By the Lake

It was then, she started silently crying, and when she made it to the front, her brother’s concerned eyes stayed glued to her, and they were red-rimmed.

Her other brother was not there. We’d been told he’d been doing some soul-searching, and he wanted to be there, he just wasn’t ready to come back to the lake (and we didn’t share this, but Riggs and I weren’t ready to have him there, either).

They’d been taught by their parents to love and forgive, and definitely move on, so this was understood by the other two siblings, and it had been shared with us, there were no hard feelings.

Things went on the upswing when the gorgeous bride showed her face, radiant and happy, and showed off her gown, which was amazing.

We stood as she walked to her very soon-to-be husband, her face shining, her smile bright as the sun.

Then we sat and watched Truman Whitaker marry the woman he loved surrounded by peach roses, woods and a tranquil lake.

And another happy memory was created to soak into the soil and feed the pine trees, which I could swear, rustled joyfully, stirred by a peaceful breeze, as a beaming Tru and his luminous bride hustled back up the aisle through a jubilant cheer and under a hail of gently falling peach rose petals.

The End

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