Page 3 of Rekindling Desire

It rang out, warning that we were moving too quickly.

I peered around, curious if others heard the alarm.

My mental fog lessened as I concentrated on the words of the woman before us. She held no special place in our lives, and yet she was the clergy on call—the official who would change our lives.

“…being as today is Sunday, we will have the license issued first thing Monday morning,” Pastor Becky Abrams said. “In many cases, the clerk’s office will postdate the license to correspond to your ceremony. Hospital weddings are a special entity—a class by themselves. Assuming the clerk’s office will accommodate your wishes, your marriage will be legal as of today.”

Our marriage.

“Today?” My once-strong voice was barely a whisper.

My attention went to Damien’s stare, assessing the churning waters of his blue orbs. There were too many emotions swirling within the murky sea to pin down one or even two. While he had the greater burden of concern regarding his father, I wasn’t a stranger to the sense of uncertainty. Within me, a conflict raged, prickling my skin and speeding my circulation with each passing minute. Contrasting emotions and feelings made my flesh taut, the tiny hairs along my skin stand on end, when all the while my insides boiled, and my skin chilled.

Damien reached for my trembling hands, holding them to his wide chest. “Ella, look at me.”

My gaze moved from where he held my hands, up to his tightly clenched jaw, prominent cheekbones, protruding veins throbbing near his temples, and finally to his navy-blue stare.

“I promise a better wedding—one you deserve.” His tone was deep, his promise reverberating through me as he squeezed my hands. “This one—tonight—it’s just for legal purposes.”

I looked around the small chapel where the three of us stood. There were no more than five rows of pews on each side. The altar was basic. A wooden cross hung from the wall, highlighted by indirect lighting. Along the side of the room was a table with candles, some lit and others not.

Biting my lip, thoughts of those I cared for flooded my mind. There was my mother, father, sister, brother-in-law, and niece. Friends also came to mind: Niles and Jeremy, Rosemary, and so many others who knew both Damien and me. I’d never dreamed of a grand wedding, yet I had imagined more than a hospital chapel in the middle of the night.

“Miss Crystal,” Pastor Abrams said, her soft brown eyes taking in more than my exterior, as if she could see through to my confused soul. “If you have any reservations about going through with this ceremony...”

“It’s just a ceremony? Right?”

She nodded. “The ceremony is symbolic. Once the county clerk’s office opens, I’ll file for the license. Signing the paper is what will make the two of you married.”

My mouth and throat dried as I tried to swallow. Again, I looked up at Damien, sensing the stress that hung around him like a cloud. It was visible in the small lines around his eyes, the way his chiseled jaw tightened, and the taut muscles showed beneath his skin.

“Your dad?” I asked.

He shook his head. “We don’t know. He’s still in surgery.”

“Sinclair Pharmaceuticals.”

His nostrils flared. “The wedding could be moot.”

“Or it could secure your position,” I said as a new thought occurred to me. I longed to call Niles to ask him if he could hear me, if I was still present.

This marriage had been my idea.

I’d been the one to announce our engagement.

“Aruba?” I asked, recalling what he’d recently confessed.

“I still have the ring, in Indianapolis.”

Sucking in a breath, I spun toward the sound of the opening door at the far end of the small aisle. Dani came rushing toward us, still wearing the clothes from hours before. She handed me a red rose tied with a ribbon and gave something to Damien.

“Surely the gift shop is closed,” I said, taking the rose.

“I pulled some strings. It seems hospital security isn’t unaccustomed to wedding emergencies.”

Damien looked down into the palm of his hand, closed his fingers around an object, and shook his head. “No.”

Dani laid her fingers over his balled fist. “Mom said she wants you to use it—to have it.”

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