A Toast to Starry Nights (44 page)

Nita entered the room holding my gown
with Willow following behind, carrying my shoes-- decadent crystal encrusted
strappy heels that caught whatever light and glittered. I slipped off the
bathrobe to reveal my saucy underpinnings which would also serve as a
wedding-night surprise for Dmitri. A black skirted thong with garter straps
held up my embroidered thigh-highs-- ordered them from England just for tonight.
Black ivy on nude silk wandered up my gams. I wore a black lace on nude satin
strapless push up bra. It created a nice shelf which my necklace --a gift from
Dmitri-- could be displayed upon.

The necklace consisted of pear-shaped
golden pearls dangling from a white gold chain. A square-cut sapphire hung as
the pendant right above the cleft of my breasts. It matched my engagement ring.
I loved it especially because Dmitri had it delivered via Cleo, Wiley's black
lab. Will say it looks better around my neck, though. Earrings, Pearls
identical to those of the necklace, dangled from small sapphires, cut like that
in my engagement ring, arrived via velvet pouch delicately tied to the necklace
by silken cording. Never have I owned such exquisite jewelry and it touched me
that Dmitri would carry out the theme from the ring so thoroughly.

“You did not learn to dress like that
from me, Kaylis Prudence.” Willow sounded almost shocked at my knickers.

“That's totally my influence.” Jet
approved.

“Definitely not a white wedding for you,
huh Cuz?” Nita found my mother's discomfort amusing.

“Definitely,” I agreed.

I stepped into my shoes and then donned
the midnight blue chiffon dress so Jet could zip it up. A deep breath and I
slid my hand down the fabric and looked at the closet door; basically a huge
sliding mirror reflecting my mother's green and pink room.

“We're not done yet....” Jet pulled a
veil from her mammoth duffel bag resting on Willow's four poster bed. “Here,
your crowning touch.”

Had she said it with an Irish accent,
I'd claim deja vu.

Jet floated the veil over my head to
cascade down my back. Single layer, almost same color as my gown. Mantilla
style, edged in a black lace applique. From the center point hung a golden
baroque pearl. The gem sat right above and between my eyebrows. I could see the
glitter of tiny Swarovski crystals dot the veil. Got the night sky as my head
gear, complete with moon-pearl. Love it.

The dress, exactly as advertised online.
Made to my measurements and fit like a glove.

After staring at my reflection and
taking in my grand appearance, I admired Jet and Nita's gowns, in royal purple
and peacock blue respectively. Both wore black shoes. Nita's were cute little
T-strap pumps and Jet's were black platforms with a matching satin bow hanging
from the back. But the thing that made the outfits complete were the
fascinators-- little wisps of black Russian tulle fastened to tiny pillbox hats
with peacock feathers as headpieces perched atop their heads at a jaunty angle.
Both had their hair in french twists contained by tortoiseshell combs. Vintage
cool.

Willow took the cake, however. Never
seen my mother in a form-fitting gown. She choose burgundy for the color,
although at certain angles, material seemed to glow pigeon blood red. Strapless
column gown was tamed with a bolero jacket. Her hair, side-swept and elegantly
confined in a chignon.

“You look amazing.” I complimented my
mother.

“Yes I do. Now wait until you see what
Jet did with the backyard!” It was harder for Willow to bounce in heels than in
Birkenstocks.

Jet selected my mother's jungle for our
midnight shindig. All I knew was that I was banned from seeing any of the
preparations.

'
Tricks and treats
,” Jet told me.

'
Trust me
,' she said.

So I did. Pins and needles, I tell you.
Couldn't wait to see the magic she wrought.

By eleven-twenty, the wedding party were
ready to rock the casbah. Little Rosie whirled around in a dress made of layers
upon layers of tulle-- purple and pink. Plus purple and green fairy wings. Her
bright blonde hair plaited with sheer rainbow ribbons. My littlest cousin would
serve as my flower fairy, hyped up on Mountain Dew. Her big brother, the ring
bearer. He put his foot down at the knee-breeches Jet tried to coax him into
wearing. Rowan suggested a tux, and that's what he got.

“Where's Grampa?” I expressed to Jet my
desire for him to walk me down the aisle. The clock showed thirty minutes to
midnight. I could hear guests talking. Couldn't see who they were... but people
awaited.

The ring master to this circus chimed
in. “He's otherwise occupied with the groom. I'm giving you a choice of escort.
Your Uncle Pat or Cleo Woofenstien.” Jet gave Wiley's dog a last name.

I laughed. “That's quite the selection.
I'll take Uncle Pat for five hundred, Alex.”

“Done. Wait here. Willow, smack her on
the back of her hand if she tries to peek out the windows.” Drapes and shades
blocked the view from my arrival late this afternoon.

“Will do.” Willow gleamed at me. “Better
behave yourself, daughter of mine.”

“I am behaving.” I'm nervous, too. This
felt like a play and I'm in the wings waiting for my cue. Except I have no idea
what my lines are and a general concept of movement to be accomplished. Don't
know the stage, but I know the fellow actors. Seconds ticked into minutes and
then Jet arrived back in Willow's bedroom, carrying a white box, my uncle in
tow.

Never seen him sport formal wear. “You
look dashing, Uncle Pat!”

“Dashing is for pirates and Fabio. I
look Rico effin Suave.” Tuxes have that James Bond effect with men. A white
rose and fern boutonniere graced his lapel. Looks like he bought himself a new
black Stetson to go with his threads.

Jet clapped her hands. “Flower time!”
She tore open the box and lifted out a basket trailing ribbons, filled to the
brim with white rose petals. She handed it off to Rosie with a reminder of how
to sprinkle them. Then she pulled out two bouquets of roses, orchids and
lilies. The flower stems were bound with black ribbon edged in tiny seed
pearls. She handed those off to Nita to hold. Once again, she reached into the
bowels of the cardboard cube and removed a larger bouquet. Had the flowers like
Nita's and Jet's bouquets, but in addition, freesia and jasmine entwined with
ivy. The stems bound in a navy blue satin ribbon secured with pearl-tipped
pins.

After the foliage went to each
respective owner, Uncle Rowan popped his head in and called out little Row.
Something about the ring bearer's pillow.

General Jet marshaled her troops to
formation. “Okay, make for the kitchen. We're heading out the front door,
straight to the garden gate. From there, onto the red carpet. Kaylis, keep with
the beat of the music. I'll tell you when to start walking down the aisle.”

Jet then put us in order before we
walked out the front door. First Rosie and Rowan. Then Nita. Jet, then Uncle
Pat and I. Saw Jet snatch her phone from her bra and send a text message.
“Okay, line up time!”

The group of us walked out from the
house and followed the paving stone pathway to Willow's wrought iron garden
gate. A hedge of hazelnuts shielded most of my view of the backyard. All I
could see were tiny white lights aglow in the fruit trees at the far end of the
garden. The Indian Summer we had helped keep the trees in their leafed glory.
Wiley and Bryant joined us in the line up. Best man stood next to Jet and usher
next to Nita, each offering their aisle partner an elbow to use.

As soon as we were lined up at the gate,
Jet sent another text message. A mere moment after she tucked the phone away,
lights dimmed in the house. Strains of medieval and/or Celtic sounding music
began to play. A haunting tune, think it's preformed on a harp. Or lute.
Mandolin?

I leaned forward and asked Jet, “What
song is this?”

She whispered back, “Your wedding march.
Almost show time.” Huge cheeky grin. “No BS 'hesitation step.' This is your
wedding, own it.”

My heart quickened with the knowledge
that her trick and treat would soon be revealed. “What's the song called?”

“Brian Boru's March.”

Will remember that.

Silently she led us to the edge of the
hazelnuts. It separated the gate area from garden proper. About two minutes
into the song, Jet told the kids to start marching. They began their walk,
disappearing around the edge of Nutland. Counting to ten softly, she told Nita
and Bryant to go. Then she whipped around and asked me, “Ready for the
catwalk?”

“As ready as I'll ever be.”

“Don't be nervous. It's a party,
remember?” Then Jet turned to Wiley and said, “Come on, Legs. Better keep time
to me.” Then arm in arm, made her grand march toward the alter with Wiley half
smiling at her.

“Ready, Punky?” Uncle Pat asked, using
my childhood nickname.

“Yep. Kick ass and take names time.”
Deep breath. Squared my shoulders and strutted my stuff. The pace of the song
became deeper and intense. This is my cue. My moment. No tripping in heels. No
tripping in heels...my mantra of not making an ass of myself.

My arm looped through my uncle's
extended elbow, I held the bouquet at the ready. Around the corner, I could see
a night time fairyland. Gasped aloud, my uncle chuckled at my amazement.

From the corner of the the hazelnut
hedge, a red carpet ran all the way to the far end of the mini orchard. The
trees were hung with more than tiny lights, they hung with round lanterns, orbs
aglow in the trees, leading the way to Jet's definition of a wedding alter.
Chairs weren't aligned in tidy rows, but in graceful concentric half circles
surrounding the alter with a wide aisle running the center.

As Uncle Pat and I emerged to address the
red carpet, I could see Rosie skipping ahead, the wings on her back fluttering
with every bounce. She and her brother now reached the back circle of seats,
and as they walked past the guests, whispers silenced. Rosie held a handful of
rose petals in her hand and tossed them into the air like confetti. Whenever
one landed on the pillow Rowan carried, he'd raise the cushion blow the petal
off.

By the time Jet made it to the seating
area and meandered toward the alter, my heart beat wildly. About fifty people
were here. But beneath a flower-decked arch strung discreetly with lights, I
could see Dmitri standing next to my Grandpa. Why was Grampa up there? Wiley,
too, stood off to the side of Dmitri.

My groom looked handsome. A tuxedo,
never seen him in a tux. Even had spats on his shoes. Totally reincarnated Cary
Grant at an Old Hollywood event. Melded well with my glamor-puss façade
tonight.

Finally reached the back row. Topiaries
marked the aisle, balls of black roses with pearl centers. Everybody stood up
and turned to look my way. One of Jet's treats; everybody present at this
nuptial fiesta, with the exception of the wedding party, that is, wore gold and
silver Venetian carnival masques. A sea of birds and cats, dogs and sun, moons
and stars gandered at my uncle and I. Super surreal. It was awesome. The best
kind of costume party. All wore black, the only colors were the wedding party,
Willow in her deep red, and Dmitri's mom, Živa, in emerald green and a
half-masque of gold and ostrich plumes.

I looked past the ocean of people to the
very floral shores where Dmitri stood. Focused on him, and almost everything
else disappeared. The music seemed to soften, people faded as my tunnel vision
took over.

Dmitri's mouth open a little, then
smiled in his soft way. The last time I saw him look at me in such a manner was
when he flew to Sacramento those many years ago so I could abduct him for
merriment, when he confessed wanting to to be a fixture in my life. Thinking
about that night made my cheeks burn, but I never lowered my gaze from Dmitri's
until I reached his side.

My Grandfather lifted a leather bound
book and began to read what I recognized as the wedding ceremony. My
grandfather is marrying us. No better way could he express his blessings over
my choice in mate. Didn't know Grampa could marry people, but it deeply touched
me to have him be an integral part of my ceremony. Jet is fucking awesome
beyond belief.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here to
day to witness the commitment to each other Dmitri and Kaylis wish to make in
the presence of those closest to their hearts.

“True Marriage is a house two people
build with determination, love, humor and appreciation. It is a house kept warm
by affection and furnished with companionship. It can weather the harshest
storm-- for storms are only temporary. Built on a solid foundation, such a
house constructed by two people entering the bonds of matrimony can last a
lifetime. This is the kind of bond Dmitri and Kaylis wish to make tonight.

“Do you, Dmitri Aleksandor Nicholi
Branimir take Kaylis to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, in good
times and bad, in times of plenty and times of less, from this day until the
end of days?

“I do.”

“Her ring?”

“Here.” Rowan stepped forward, pillow
with little ribbons sewn in the center to hold the rings in place, lifted high
for Dmitri to untie my ring while Grampa spoke again.