Page 100 of The Oscar Escape
Oscar spoke the words with Aria, his voice mingling with hers like they were casting a love match spell.
The judge gestured to the band of light sweeping across the sea. “Like the beacon on a lighthouse, our light, the light we bring to this union, will always show us the way home.”
Home. That’s what she was to him.
Again, they repeated the words.
“You’ve spoken vows, but you’re also making a sacrifice,” the man explained. “This sacrifice isn’t one of flesh and bone, but of mind and spirit. From this moment forward, you sacrifice selfishness. In its place, you open your hearts to generosity, compromise, and to love—a love that is as constant and sustaining as the rhythm of the surf meeting sand.” The judge sniffled, growing emotional, which wasn’t like him. “If you agree to this sacrifice, say I do.”
“I do,” he and Aria answered. The words floated, light and airy, in the salty breeze.
Georgia picked up the piece of driftwood. “On Havenmatch Island, we believe driftwood signifies the transition from one place to another. While we don’t know where this wood originated, what we do know is that it’s here, and it found a resting place on this beach on this night. Driftwood is an essential piece to maintaining places like Havenmatch Island. It provides stability and strength to the sand. It allows plant life to take root and grow. Something that once drifted without purpose now finds where it was always meant to be.” She handed him a pocket knife. “Carve your names into this symbol of your past, present, and future.”
Oscar pressed the sharpened tip to the damp surface. The enormity of the moment held the beach in suspended animation as he carved their names into the wood. He blinked, then felt Aria touch his cheek.
“A little salt water must have gotten in your eyes,” she said, wiping away a tear.
He set the carved wood on the bench. He stroked her cheek. “You have a little salt water on your face, too.”
“When we talk about this, years from now, we leave out the crying part,” she said, eyes shining with love.
He wiped away another tear from her cheek. “You got it.”
“Now, the rings and the final vows,” the judge said softly and plucked them from the bench.
Oscar couldn’t parrot back generic vows. “If it doesn’t impact the Driftwood Ritual, would you mind if I choose my own words—my own vows? Words are important to me,” he explained, recalling when he’d said the same words to her on their first tumultuous morning at the inn. He focused on Aria. “They’re important to us.”
The judge pocketed the card. “Go right ahead.”
“Aria,” Oscar said, his voice as steady as a compass pointed true north. “I’ve loved you from the moment I set eyes on you. I remember the day. Phoebe had asked your uncle Landon to make a video call to you. You were wild-eyed. Your hair was a tangled mess. You were sassy and as prickly as a cactus. And to me, you were absolutely glorious. I didn’t understand it then. I was a kid, but that was when you stole my heart. You’re my everything. My love match. Your happiness is my happiness.” He slipped his mother’s ring—now Aria’s wedding ring—on her finger. “I give you this ring as a symbol of my love, a love as far and as wide as the ocean.”
“Wow,” she whispered as the judge handed her his ring. “That’s a tough act to follow.” She exhaled a slow, meditative breath. “But I’ll give it a shot. Oscar, you’re the song that’s always lived in my heart. You’re the person who knows me better than I know myself. And from the first day of second grade, you’ve driven me crazy enough to fall in love with you. Mind if I steal your words?”
“You can take whatever you want. It’s all yours.”
She slipped the ring onto his finger. “I give you this ring as a symbol of my love, a love as far and as wide as the ocean.”
“If this were a wedding, I’d remind you that you need to pay eight dollars for a marriage license at the Havenmatch Island post office. Cash only,” the judge said with a sly grin. “Then I’d say, I pronounce you husband and wife. Huh, look at that. It appears I’ve said it.” He turned his attention to the lobster pod. “Aria and Oscar Elliott are Havenmatch Island’s Love and Lobsters Festival newlyweds. Oscar, you may now kiss your—”
Oscar couldn’t wait for a second longer. He cupped her face in his hands. Lantern light glinted off his wedding ring as he pressed a whisper-soft kiss to her lips. Wanting, no, needing to stretch this moment, lock it in his heart, and invite the love into his soul, he kissed her salty lips, dotted with tears of joy. Were those his tears? Or did they belong to her? He didn’t know, and he didn’t care. She was his. They belonged to each other. He deepened the kiss, savoring the newness of it. A kiss between husband and wife.
The judge cleared his throat. “You mind wrapping this up? We old islanders need our shut-eye.”
Aria giggled.
“I don’t want this kiss to end,” he confessed to her in the slip of space separating their lips.
“I don’t either, but these old-timers need their rest. Not to mention, if I have to stare out at a sea of creepy lobster people much longer, I’ll probably have nightmares for the rest of my life.”
Now he was the one chuckling. He pulled back and took Aria’s hand as he turned to the crowd. “Thank you for sharing this ritual with us,” he said, peering out at a bunch of freaky lobster faces.
“We’re beyond grateful,” Aria added.
Georgia picked up the driftwood and placed it in the picnic basket. “What’s inside the basket is for you. Take a moment to sit on the bench, then enjoy your night in the lighthouse.”
“The lighthouse?” Aria repeated.
“It’s part of the tradition. The newlyweds get the place to themselves. Gibby assured us that you know your way around it.”
