Page 54 of The Beachgoers
nineteen
— Now —
DIDN’T ELSA KNOW IT.
Standing on the beach, doesn’t Kyle know it now, too. A spontaneous surprise vow renewal was the only way to go. There’s no denying that anotherplannedceremony was out of the question. Its prep time, and advance notice, would’ve unhinged him.
Would’ve worked upeveryone, actually—guests included. Advance notice means advance worry. Advance stress. Advance what-ifs. AdvanceWho’s going with who?AdvanceWhat time should we get there?Do you want to drive, or should we pick you up?Advance fretting and phone calls and fussing.
Yes, Elsa knew it. It’s got to be why she proposed all of this only yesterday—when she stopped by to sample the hot-dog relish his diner was supplying for her grand opening. The first shock came when she told him and Lauren her secret inn woes. The second shock came when she sprungthison them. Sure, Elsa didn’t want all her preparation and food for the cancelled inn opening to go to waste. So since everyone was going to be there anyway for that derailed event, well…What do you and Lauren think about having that vow renewal after all?she’d asked from a diner stool.It’d be a surprise ceremony.
Tomorrow?he and Lauren shot back at once.Seriously?
To which Elsa smiled, and shrugged—and got her way.
And it all worked, Kyle thinks while nodding to himself. Perfectly. Sure, it was a mad dash of prep beforehand—florist runs this morning, steaming of wedding clothes late last night, secret setups of the driftwood podium and white chairs on the beach today. And now? Now Elsa’s plan keeps everyone in the moment.
One moment.
A moment no one had time to ridiculously stress out over.
So no worries. Everyone Kyle cares about is here—smiling and relaxed.
His beautiful bride is arriving now in Sal’s old rowboat. White twinkle lights outline the entire vessel. Lauren’s father hitches that boat to a small temporary dock Elsa had brought in. A long ramp stretches from the dock to the sand. And solar LED deck lights illuminate it all. Once the boat is secured, Lauren takes her father’s hand and carefully stands.
Kyle can’t help it then. Waiting there near Elsa’s driftwood podium, he chokes up as he sees Lauren in her two-piece white lace wedding dress. The high-neck sleeveless top is cropped, showing a hint of her midriff. And the bottom is a fitted, ankle-length lace skirt. Her straight blonde hair is down. She wears a headpiece of tiny white silk flowers in a twist of vines.
“Unbelievable, man,” Jason says, leaning closer for only Kyle to hear. “How many days do you get like this?” he asks as Lauren steps onto the dock’s ramp.
“Not many,” Kyle answers his best man. “That’s for damn sure.”
This night’s been a long time coming. He knows it. Everyone here knows it, obvious by their riveted silence.
But in the twilight hour, Kyle watches only his bride walking down an illuminated silver ramp over the dark waters of Long Island Sound.
* * *
Walking barefoot down that silver ramp, Lauren feels the sway of seawater beneath her. It’s a gentle feeling. Comforting. Almost like she’s being embraced this evening—by the sea, by her loved ones, by happiness. Waves splash easy on the sand; a salty breeze ruffles her long lace skirt. Behind her, the horizon is red beneath a violet sky.
After her father hugs her on the beach and joins her mother at the chairs, Lauren takes in the view. She sees the people in those white chairs. Maris, Cliff. Nick, Eva, Matt. Kyle’s old boss from the diner, Jerry, with his wife.Everyone. Mason jar candles hanging from each aisle seat flicker. There’s her mother, sitting with her kids and Shane.Shane, Lauren thinks.Here to witness this, finally.
Soft guitar-playing gets Lauren to turn to Celia sitting on a white chair near Elsa’s podium. Celia’s legs are crossed; her guitar is in her lap. The music, the slide of her fingers on the fret, could almost sound like the sea itself is sighing.
And there’s Elsa at her driftwood podium. She’s wearing her favorite lace-trimmed black jumpsuit and her hair is twisted into a low chignon. Her gold-bead headband sparkles in the evening light, and a white starfish corsage adorns her wrist.
As Lauren crosses the sand, the candlelight everywhere—on the chairs, on decorative dock posts, on Elsa’s podium—wavers in the misty air. And over beyond the swaying dune grasses, the Ocean Star Inn rises in all its shingled, illuminated glory, to the sky.
Suddenly, it all feels spiritual. The silence is almost solemn now. The dusky hour’s colors are as soft as stained glass. That inn, with its turret and balconies, looks like a church. And the sea, the ever-moving sea, whispers hushed prayers, it seems.
Lauren briefly closes her eyes before looking beyond Elsa. Before turning to Kyle. Seeing him standing there in his pale gray vest over a crisp white button-down and gray tailored pants? Seeing the white-rose boutonniere pinned on his vest?
Seeinghimwatching onlyher?
Well.
The rest—the view, the people—she can barely make out through her tears.
