Page 11 of Patch's Bride
I feel his body go still and realize my whole front is flush with his back. Then he revs his engine and eases us into the street. Not waiting for his parents, he takes off. The cool morning air brushes across my skin. I cling to him as he accelerates, and the scenery starts to blur around me. I realize pretty fast that this is my new happy place.
In the beginning I clamp my legs tight against the bike because I don’t want to fall off. But slowly I realize that’s not really necessary. As Patch snakes around the curves in the road, leaning into the curves, I realize he’s got this. I trust that he knows how to keep us safe on the road.
***
After an all too short ride, I see the courthouse up ahead. Patch veers off into the parking lot and eases the bike into one of the parking spaces. His foot comes down on the kickstand and then he gets off the bike. When he helps me off, I get weak in the knees. Whether it’s from his gentle touch or the vibration of the engine running up my legs during the ride, I don’t know.
As we pull off our helmets, he asks, “You okay, Beth?”
“Yeah. Being on a motorcycle is amazing.”
“Glad you enjoyed it.” He gives me a lopsided smile as he takes a cargo net out of his storage compartment, puts our helmets inside and locks it to his bike.
That’s when his parents pull into the parking space beside us. His mother jumps out and fast walks over to us, looking excited. Her husband follows along behind her. His expression is more reserved, almost wary. It makes me wonder if he has second thoughts about his son marrying me.
His mother rubs her hands together to warm them up. “It’s after eight. The county clerk’s office should be open now.”
Patch slips his hand into mine and boldly takes the lead. This man is smart, incredibly nice and a real go-getter. Not the kind of man to choose a mousy little church girl for a wife. I know he said that I would make a good wife if I were older, but I honestly think he was just being nice. Still, his big hand in mine makes me feel things, both emotional and physical. Being close to him makes me want more than a fake marriage. Since that’s going to happen, I just need to push through it.
Inside the big marble courthouse, I begin to grasp that we are starting something real and bound by law and I start to worry about the implications.
The county clerk’s window is one of many offices lining both sides of the lobby and there are still more offices and courtrooms upstairs. Patch leads me into the office and up to a counter with ballistic glass in place. I can tell because the glass is like an inch thick. There are only a couple of employees milling about behind the long counter and one immediately comes over to speak with us.
“What can I do for you this morning?” she asks pleasantly.
Patch replies, “We’re here to get a marriage license.”
The clerk glances at me and smiles. “I’d be happy to take care of that for you. For starters, both applicants need to be eighteen or older.”
“You can check that box,” Patch says, nodding in my direction. “My fiancée is nineteen.”
The clerk reaches beneath the counter and shoves the application across the counter. “Next, we need valid, government-issued picture identification and a birth certificate for both of you. California only requires an ID, but the county requires a copy of the birth certificate.”
I reach into my bag and pull out my paperwork and hand it over. Patch’s mother hands him a folder with his birth certificate and he adds his ID before placing them on the counter in front of the clerk. She makes copies of the documents and brings back the originals as Patch and I work our way through the application. We each sign in the appropriate place as she watches and then she notarizes the application, types on her computer for a minute and then slides an official-looking document back to us under the glass.
Patch puts his arm around my waist, pulling me close as we look it over. My hand comes up to run around the edge because it has a fancy, official-looking border.
Patch murmurs, “It’s a dual-use form. The bottom part is completed after we get married. That section says marriage certificate.”
The clerk responds, “That’s correct. Whoever officiates your wedding ceremony will complete that section and when you bring it back, we’ll register the marriage and add a raised seal.”
“Is there anything else we need to do today?” he asks.
“Nope. Just be sure to get married within ninety days or you’ll have to renew the license.”
“Thanks for walking us through the process,” he says smoothly.
When Patch hands the marriage license to me for safekeeping, an image of my mother’s face flashes through my mind, the way she smiled when she was happy. She would’ve loved being here. I can’t help but feel like I’m being cheated out of the wedding she had always dreamed of for me. But then I remind myself why I’m doing this. Maybe one day I’ll have a real wedding.
When we turn around, Patch’s mother is exuberant. “Congratulations,” she says, hugging me tight before I can react. “You’re going to be family now, Beth. Don’t forget we’ll always be here if you need us.”
My eyes sting. I nod into her shoulder, fighting tears. “Thank you, Mrs. Patchett.”
“Call me Caroline, dear,” she says as she gives me another hug.
Mr. Patchett doesn’t hug either of us, but he does squeeze Patch’s shoulder in a fatherly way. I have to admit that he still looks worried. “Watch your back. Mr. Jefferies called looking for Beth. I don’t think he knows she was with us. It sounded like he was just panicking and checking everywhere she might be.”
I ask, “Should I at least call him to let him know I’m okay?”
