Page 236 of Share with Me

Chapter Seventy-One

Brinley Brooks steppedout of Seaside Chapel into the lovely flower garden, into the breezy June outdoors to the sound of gulls and seabirds in staccato beats against a backdrop of ocean waves crashing on shore and then ebbing away. Above her, pelicans flew, silently gliding through the air and heading south through a blue sky with whispers of clouds like brushstrokes.

God’s brushstrokes.

The early morning air smelled fresh and clean. Brinley closed her eyes, basking her face in the warming sun. She could stay on St. Simon’s Island the rest of her life if life were like the last two months after Ivan’s proposal. Throughout the months of April and May, the duo had spent a lot of time together, getting along, and getting busy with the warehouse renovations and the rebuilding of Ivan’s student list. For now, his new students met him at Yun’s old house but eventually they’d all move to the warehouse studio on Pelican Road.

Now, in early June, before St. Simon’s Island baked in the summer sun, before throngs of vacationers descended on the island, it was time to tie a wedding bow to their relationship.

Brinley paused to give thanks to God.

Her breath caught when a distant violin solo rose above the sounds of summer morning, above the rolling waves and squawking gulls, above the rapid beatings of her heart.

Our song.

It was coming from the pavilion, a siren song calling to her, filling her mind and heart with memories of that dinner party before Christmas when she’d felt a connection with Ivan, of New Year’s Eve kisses and winter heartbreaks and spring restorations.

She wondered which SISO violinist was doing the honors. That was an unexpected surprise that the wedding planner must’ve thrown in. Brinley hadn’t wanted any violin at the wedding because she was afraid it would make Ivan sad that it could be a very long time before his tendons and wrist were healed enough for him to play the violin the same way he used to.

Now this piece coming over the warming breeze sounded almost as good as Ivan playing it that evening in December.

Surely Ivan must’ve approved it. Or someone was playing a trick on their emotions. Whatever. It was too late now. Brinley told herself to go with the flow.

Give me strength, God, to last through the ceremony so I can relax.

“Ready to go, Brinley Brin?” Dad tapped his walking stick. He was determined to walk her down the aisle and so here he was. In typical Dad fashion, the walking stick itself was more expensive than her wedding gown. Brinley had practiced walking in her laced tulle trumpet gown of pure white silk, but she still prayed she wouldn’t trip and fall on the boardwalk before she reached the pavilion and beach.

Brinley linked her arm with Dad’s, and they made the slow procession down the sidewalk, onto the boardwalk. All the time Bach’sAir on the G Stringgrew ever louder, pushing away all other sounds of the seaside.

Too bad Ivan hadn’t played any violins lately. Or at least she hadn’t heard him play. Every time she had asked, he said he was getting his wrist strength back. Brinley had been praying for his wrist to heal completely, but it was all in God’s hands now.

She was grateful, however, that Ivan hadn’t abandoned music altogether. In the two months since he had reopened his music studio it was all coming along nicely. Business had picked up after he renamed it Yun McMillan Studios and started advertising to unexpected places.

And surprise, surprise, Mom was taking piano lessons from Ivan. She’d been so enamored by Ivan’s charm and teaching ability that she had been telling all her friends up and down coastal Georgia about her new music teacher. Pretty soon those friends were practicing hard so they could play a severely simplified version of Franz Liszt’sLiebestraum No. 3on their Christie’s or Sotheby’s concert grand finds.

Brinley inched forward at Dad’s pace. Between the sea oats and dunes, the boardwalk seemed to stretch forever. She was determined to get to the pavilion and beyond, where everyone was waiting for them on the beach this beautiful, clear, sunny, bright morning.

“Remember, Brinley Brin.” Dad choked up. “Your husband should love you as Christ loves the church and sacrificed Himself for her. If Ivan falls short, call me, and I’ll whack him with my new diamond-encrusted titanium walking stick.”

“Dad!” Brinley wiped a tear from her eye. “You’re messing up my eyeliner.”

“Nah. You look beautiful.”

The closer they came to the pavilion, the louder the violin solo was. It was a deep, clear, distinct sound that only—

And then she saw him.

He was all she saw.

The sea and surf and sky behind him vanished into the clouds.

All Brinley saw was Ivan standing in the sand, his left hand out of cast and brace, fingers moving up and down the strings of what looked like a very old violin.

Brinley’s knees buckled and she tightened her grip on Dad’s arm as they stepped off the pavilion and onto the packed sands of St. Simon’s Island. She didn’t even think about bits of sand getting into her toes and into the laced hems of her wedding gown. All she could think of was his wrist.

Thank You, God, for healing his left hand.

All those months of therapy and wrist rehabilitation had paid off, but Brinley hadn’t expected him to play their song this soon. Coming out of the church building and hearing it, it hadn’t cross her mind at all that Ivan himself would be doing this. He must’ve been practicing for weeks. She knew the wrist had been giving him trouble still. He had been in pain every time he turned it.

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