He nods, turns an ear to the door, listening, then he says, “Everyone is seated. Father Reynolds is standing at the alter. You are to walk in and stand slightly forward of him, on his left.” Then he pulls the door open, and I walk into the chamber.
A hush, thick with anticipation, settles over the crowd. I make eye contact with Cathy, and she smiles but dabs at her tears. Tiara nods and looks like the cat that ate the canary.
I take my designated place and turn toward the front of the church. I want to see Rapunzel the moment she appears.
She stands in the open double doors and waits for the wedding march to play. She looks regal and beautiful! She’s wearing the entire wedding gown she modeled. Her posture says she’s wearing her high heels. The front of her long blonde hair is pulled up and away from her oval-shaped face, with only small tresses framing it. Her eye makeup is dark, and I know her big blue eyes will knock me off my feet while I stare into them. She is truly the most exquisite creature I have ever seen.
My heart fills with love and pride for her, and I have to fight to keep my emotions in check.
Then the audience stands, and all I can see is the halo of pink roses on her head as she walks in time to the song down the aisle to me.
Zella
What am I doing? Am I sure I want to give my freedom, my independence, to someone else? Am I sure I want to let someone else influence the direction of my life? Oh, dear Lord! My hands are shaking so hard I’m thankful I don’t have a bouquet of flowers. They would never have survived. It’s not too late. I can call this charade off. I don’t have to do this.
The wedding march beat keeps my feet moving, one in front of the other as I head down the aisle covered in rose petals. Trying my damnedest not to panic and run. My heart is beating so fast I can hear it pounding in my ears—each step bringing me closer and closer to the point of no return.
When I turn the corner of the aisle, I see him—standing tall, proud, magnificent, and handsome as hell in his dress blue military uniform. Instantly, my fear vanishes.
I know exactly what I’m doing!
He smiles, and mine splits my face in two.
His short dark navy-blue coat fits his massive frame and shows off the two-digit sum of inches from his trim, tight waist to his broad, expansive shoulders. The white shirt, complete with a white bow tie, against his dark tanned skin gives off an air of absolute health. His long, straight, tree-trunk legs are emphasized in the dark navy-blue pants. And the colorful rows of ribbons have been replaced with vertical rows of hanging metals.
The thought that I need to ask him what each one represents flashes through my mind as I walk up to stand across from this hero. I correct myself—my hero.
The sultry expression in his eyes as he looks into mine contrasts his smiling face, and I know that look is mine and mine alone.
The priest says to the congregation, “You may be seated.” When the noise of hundreds of bodies sitting down settles into silence, he announces. “The first song is from the groom to the bride, and the second song is from the bride to the groom.”
My eyes twinkle into his, and his smolder into mine.
Then a beautiful soulful voice begins to sing “Angel” by Sarah McLachlan, and try as I do, I can’t help the tears that flow freely down my cheeks. What a touching tribute to what happened between us, that fateful moment when I was stuck in the elevator needing a hero to save me, not only from the dark of the steel box, but the loneliness of being alone, and d’Artagnan came to my rescue. I close my eyes, hang my head, and sob. My shoulders shake with the emotion.
Then I feel the warmth of his touch under my chin as he lifts my face to his. I stare into the eyes of the only man I will ever love, who loves me the same. I blink back my tears, gaining strength in the depth of love shining from his eyes. He reaches down inside my soul and caresses it with his devotion.
When the song ends, there is a long pause as the singer steps away, and another takes her place. Only the sounds of sniffles ripple across the crowd. My eyes twinkle my happiness into his, knowing the song I chose, and he tilts his head suspiciously.
Then a jazzed-up retention of Aretha Franklin’s “Baby, I Love You” breaks the melodramatic mood, and the crowd roars with laughter. d’Artagnan throws back his head and laughs out loud. When he looks back down at me, I’m jazzing to the song for him.
Even the priest is laughing and enjoying himself when the song ends and has to regroup for the official vows. He lectures on love being forever and the bonds of matrimony being sacred. Then he turns to d’Artagnan and asks, “d’Artagnan Dugan, do you take Rapunzel Robinson to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
His eyes pierce mine. “You bet your ass I do.”
Everyone laughs, even the priest. Then he turns to me and asks, “Rapunzel Robinson, do you take d’Artagnan Dugan as your lawfully wedded husband?”
“Oh, YES! Yes, I do!”
“The rings, please?”
d’Artagnan takes the wedding band from his inside jacket pocket and steps forward. His grin is so sincere. I feel it all the way down to my toes. He reaches for my hand and slips the engagement ring off, places it inside a wedding band guard, then slips it back on, saying, “I love you.”
Tears well up in my eyes again and threaten to spill down. He has never uttered those words all the time we have spent together getting to know each other these last two weeks. They mean everything to me.
I stare into his eyes, knowing I belong to him, and pull the little pink string, releasing his band from my gown. I take his hand, and as I slip it onto his finger, I tell him, “I love you too.”
Then before the priest can make the announcement, d’Artagnan wraps me in his strong arms and kisses me deeply, thoroughly, committing his heart, mind, soul, and body to me. And I, in return, suck his tongue down my throat, submitting to him willingly, totally, and ultimately, my heart, soul, mind, and body.
