Page 45 of The Grave Between Us
Noah nodded. He wrapped his arm around Cole’s waist and hooked his thumb in the waistband of Cole’s jeans as they walked. “I liked it.”
“Do you think they have a brochure we could look at over lunch?”
“Probably.”
Inside, half the space had been converted into a restaurant, little patio tables set on a wood plank floor scattered with loose straw. The décor was shabby chic: mason jars with white ribbons, burlap bunting, and linen edged in old lace. String lights looped overhead. Toward the back of the barn, people clustered around a long bar, some sipping cocktails but most sampling wines and picking at charcuterie boards.
Most of the patrons were couples, men and women, but there were families dotted in the crowd and a handful of young children in the open space away from the bar, playing hide-and-go-seek in the old horse stalls while their parents nibbled cheese and sipped pinot and gazed into each other’s eyes.
At first glance, Cole couldn’t see another same-sex couple. That didn’t bother him, but his eyes slid to Noah and he squeezed Noah’s hand, preparing to let go—
Noah held fast. If anything, his arm pressed a little tighter around Cole’s waist. Cole turned to Noah and kissed his cheek, resting his forehead against Noah’s temple as they waited their turn to be seated.
The hostess, a young woman around college age, looked them up and down and beamed. “Table for two?”
“Yes.” Noah cleared his throat. “We were actually looking for some information on planning a wedding—”
“Congratulations! I’ll bring over our catalog and our testimonial binders. You can take a look at what we offer and what our other happy couples have had to say.” She led them to a cozy bistro table with the chairs side by side rather than across from each other, facing the open expanse of the barn. They sat, and Noah immediately put his arm around Cole’s chair back, his fingers landing on Cole’s shoulder blade. The hostess smiled, passed them their menus—vellum affixed to old pieces of barn plank—and said, “I’ll get that catalog for you.”
He looked at Noah, and Noah looked at him, and they both burst into giggles, leaning close. Cole gripped Noah’s knee. “We’re really doing this,” Noah breathed. “We’re going to get married.” He sounded amazed, his voice full of wonder, as if the truth had just sunk into him.
“We are.” Cole brushed his lips against Noah’s. Noah hummed. “Maybe even right here.”
The hostess reappeared, handing them each a thick, well-worn binder stuffed with glossy printouts and photo pages. “All of our ceremony and reception locations are listed in there, along with all the options we offer. We can take care of everything, or we can host your event and let your own wedding planner handle the details. Do you have a wedding planner yet?”
“Um…”
“No worries.” She rolled on. “Marcia is one of the best wedding planners in the business. We’re so lucky to have her. She’ll take great care of you guys if you work with her.” She pointed to the photo pages at the back of the binders. “Those are pictures from some of our weddings. Check out the different locations and see if you’re inspired by anything.” Another full-wattage smile, and then she bounced away, her ponytail swishing behind her.
A young, gorgeous man in jeans, boots, a button-down plaid, and a white apron tied around his trim waist appeared in her wake, dropping off champagne flutes, smiling as he drawled, “Congratulations, guys.”
They watched him walk away, slowly sipping their champagne. Cole elbowed Noah, flicking both his eyebrows and then jerking his head toward the hunk in the apron. Noah went redder than Cole had ever seen, fluorescent meltdown magenta, caught checking out another man. Cole giggled and kissed Noah’s temple, his cheek, holding him close, as he whispered, “I love you so much.”
They ordered appetizers to start, settling in to flip through each page of the binders. The large venue spaces—the open meadows, the starlit clearings cut out of the cornfields, lined with luminarias—were breathtaking but too large for their modest dreams. Noah claimed again he didn’t know that many people, and when Cole pointed out how many well-wishers he’d had at the hospital, Noah said there was a difference between friendly colleagues and people he wanted to share the happiest day of his life with. He didn’t want to talk shop on his wedding day.
The medium-sized wedding options were smaller versions of the meadows: a willow grove, a barn with half with its rafters exposed to the sky, and a lakeside field near the main bed and breakfast. The lake looked artificial to Cole and didn’t appeal to him. And besides, even if they had a few more friends than they realized, more than likely, they were going to have a small wedding.
Those options were the most beautiful, Cole thought. Size wasn’t everything, it turned out. If they held their wedding on a Thursday, they could use one of the big meadows but carve it into a smaller space with stacked hay and turn the field into a dance floor and reception area with weathered picnic tables and silver candelabras, clusters of battery-powered candles scattered on the ground. Giant sky overhead, intimate gathering below.
Then there was the oak grove that had caught Noah’s eye, also lit by candles beneath the tree canopy and lining the creek, with string lights overhead. That space was tiny, for only twenty or so guests, and it seemed like a snapshot of a whole different world, a fairy tale. Noah traced the burbling creek with his fingertips.
“You like that one best,” Cole said. He took Noah’s hand in his. “I love it, too.”
“I want to see it in person.”
“Of course. But if it’s not actually the septic tank drainage site, or next to a parking lot, or filled with poison ivy…”
Noah laughed. He finished his champagne, twirling the stem as he set down the glass. “If it’s as beautiful as it seems to be… I think I want to marry you there.”
He kissed Noah, letting his lips linger, feeling Noah’s smile grow. He kept his eyes open, watching Noah’s eyes flutter shut, watching the unfiltered joy spread across Noah’s face. Cole loved these moments, sneaking peeks when Noah was wide open, when he was so happy and in love—
Color flickered in the corner of Cole’s gaze. Color and folded lines, crisp edges.
Three kids ran in circles between the bistro tables and the bar area. They were chasing each other, running and swooping their hands in looping arcs, like birds in flight. One boy’s hand opened, and the paper crane he’d been playing with soared through the air, flying for a moment before gliding to the ground.
Cole was out of his seat before his next breath, jogging across the barn toward the kids. Noah called after him, but he didn’t answer. His focus was on the cranes. The one in the dirt, the ones in the other kids’ hands. Orange, pale yellow, sky blue. His head moved on a swivel, moving right and left, scanning the crowd. Couples, men and women, mostly younger, some older. The bar was crowded, and he couldn’t see everyone.
A few people were staring at him, their mouths open, foreheads furrowing.
