Page 51 of Home to Christmas Island
Rose and her dad reach the end of the aisle and Mr. Denny kisses his daughter on the cheek. He starts to cry and says something to her that I only catch the end of—my flower, in Mi’kmaw, which Rose told me was her nickname growing up.
I love you, Dad, Rose says. She’s now the only one of us at the altar not crying. Mr. Denny pulls Alba into a hug. He whispers something in her ear before he gently pats her on the cheek and then sits down with his wife.
A friend of the Denny family is officiating the wedding. He’s warm and funny and I decided at yesterday’s rehearsal that I liked him immediately. The rest of the ceremony is a perfect, beautiful blur. As we get closer to the end, I finally let my eyes scan the crowd.
I find Alistair almost immediately, his gaze fixed on me and drawing my eyes right to him. He winks and I nearly burst out laughing. He mouths the words, You look so beautiful, and I feel myself blush. You too, I mouth back at him, and his shoulders shake with a laugh. I can’t really tell what he’s wearing from here, but I don’t dare keep my eyes on him any longer, otherwise I’ll be too distracted and miss the rest of the ceremony.
The two brides kiss to many loud cheers and we all begin to make our way behind Alba and Rose, who are going outside to take some pictures. I can see through the open door that it’s really starting to snow now, and it seems inevitable that people will have to crash here tonight.
I have to put the finishing touches on the wedding cake which is back at the house, but I want to see Alistair for a second before I get swept up in the merriment.
There’s a hand on my arm and a rough, bearded jawline brushes up against my cheek. Alistair has read my mind. You look delicious, he purrs into my ear. Can I help with anything?
I shake my head and smile up at him. Then I gasp, getting a full glimpse of his suit for the first time. It’s a deep maroon colour—and matches perfectly with my dress.
I got your letter, he says, like this is a long-running joke between us now. I feel certain Santa really did get my letter. How else could I explain feeling like a kid on Christmas morning? Actually, I texted Alba to ask what colour you were wearing tonight.
Something about this is so intimate I have to shove the feeling aside. You look perfect, I breathe, and he kisses my cheek. The uniform is one thing, but a suit? A perfectly fitting, crimson red suit that he chose specifically to match my outfit? I’m in danger of death by swooning.
Someone calls my name for photos, and I know I have to go. I step up onto my tiptoes, wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him fully. He closes his eyes and smiles this slow, gentle smile—blissful.
I try to make my way through the crowd in a hurry, but it’s not long before someone stops me.
Florence dear, don’t you look beautiful. It’s Mrs. Murphy, Catherine Murphy’s mother. Oh god, I can only imagine what will get relayed to Catherine if she saw that kiss with Alistair. I can feel a blush start to creep up my neck.
Thank you, Mrs. Murphy, I say, trying desperately to get away, but she’s got a firm grip on my arm.
How long are you home for this time? I don’t like her tone.
I’m not sure, I say, feeling more and more flustered. Look I really have to—
Yes, yes, you do like to run off, don’t you Florence? In the middle of your mother’s funeral—imagine. She says this as if it’s some kind of joke, motioning to the woman beside her who looks deeply uncomfortable. She sighs, Your poor mother, having to raise you all by herself out of wedlock.
Excuse me? I ask, trying to straighten my spine, still trying to pull out of her grip.
We were just saying, we’re sure it won’t be long before you dash off again, will it dear?
Something about this confirms all of my worst fears: that people had talked about me when I left before. And talked about how I hadn’t been back to Cape Breton since. I mean, on some level I knew that of course they did, but this feels like a punch to the gut. Her brazen judgment of me, of my mother, slides through me like acid, coating me until I’m covered in it.
And it’s probably for the best that you won’t be here long, so you don’t get too attached to the police officer. My Catherine dated him too, you know, she says, almost preening. But you can’t get serious with a man like that, working such a dangerous job. Sometimes they never come home.
My chest goes tight and I swear it feels like I’m drowning.
I don’t reply, only rip my arm away and continue through the crowd, feeling more and more claustrophobic with every breath.
THE EVENING GOES BY IN flashes. I fully block out my maid of honour speech, but get through most of it without crying. We all sob when Uncle Albie talks about how much he loves his girls. When the cake is brought out, Alba’s head whips to me so fast I’m sure she’ll feel it in her neck later.
Her eyes ask me, Was this you? I nod and mouth the words, Best cousins forever.
I can see a tear roll down her cheek, but it’s gone after she takes her first bite. Alba moans and tilts her head up to the sky in silent prayer, and all I can do is laugh.
While the brides finish their cake, the rest of us rearrange the main room of the lodge, moving out most of the tables and chairs to make space for dancing.
By the time Alba and Rose start their first dance, it’s snowing so much that it’s clear it won’t be safe for anyone to drive tonight. But the snow outside is so beautiful that no one seems to mind.
Another slow song starts and everyone else is invited to join in with the newlyweds. Before I get a chance to even scan the room, there’s a warm hand in mine.
How does he do that?
