Always the Baker, Finally the Bride (39 page)

Emma ran across the lobby in bare feet, her Benjamin Adams four-inch pumps looped over two fingers, Kat and Audrey sprinting close behind her. At the courtyard door, she pushed her size six-and-a-half feet into the size-six shoes as Audrey pressed the bouquet into her hands. Four stems of perfect lavender-blue hydrangea, the stems wrapped in rhinestone ribbon that matched the Swarovski crystals adorning her designer shoes, the flowers just exactly like the picture she’d chosen with Sherilyn at the beach.

Kat adjusted Emma’s veil while Audrey fluffed the front of her dress. The clomp of heels dashing across the lobby brought comfort to Emma’s heart. She smiled and looked up at Sherilyn rushing toward her.

“You two get seated,” she said. Audrey and Kat complied without another word. “Em, hold your bouquet right around here,” she added, nudging her hands into place. “Anything you need?”

Her lips parted in reply, but it wasn’t necessary. The only thing she needed at that very moment had sauntered through the door and stepped up beside her. Gavin smiled at her as he offered his arm.

“Daddy, what are you—”

“Do you think I would miss this moment?” he asked. “Come
wedding
bells or high water, I’m walking my little girl down the aisle.”

“Gavin, you look good enough to eat,” Sherilyn told him with a broad grin.

“Thank you, Sheri. Let’s get this girl married, shall we?”

Andy jogged toward them and handed Sherilyn a rosebud boutonniere. “Ready?”

“Ready,” she replied as she fastened it to Gavin’s lapel. Turning toward Emma, she smiled warmly. “You look perfect. Like an angel.”

Emma held back the wave of emotion as best she could. “Thank you for everything, Sher.”

Sherilyn mouthed, “I love you,” and slipped her arm into Andy’s as they headed down the dark purple-carpeted aisle lined on both sides with trails of pastel flower petals.

“Me, too,” Emma returned.

With a firm grasp on her bouquet, Emma pressed her hands against the swarming butterflies inside her stomach and looked up into the glistening eyes of her father.

“You’re sure,” he stated softly without the slightest trace of a question.

“So sure.”

Gavin nodded, pressed his hand over Emma’s in the fold of his arm, and the two of them stepped forward. The first couple of notes of Mendelssohn’s “Wedding March” cued the guests to their feet, and they all turned to face Emma as she started her walk down the aisle.

The first face she recognized belonged to Bonnie Cordova, the lovely woman who had helped her decide on the final wedding cake design, and she tossed her a smile and a nod.
After that, every other face seemed to dissolve into stardust as she focused on the one and only face in the crowd.

There at the end of the aisle stood Jackson—serious and emotional. But the instant their eyes met, both of them broke into ridiculous, uncontrollable grins. Gavin placed a kiss on Emma’s cheek that she almost didn’t feel; all she could really think about was reaching Jackson’s side. Sherilyn may have taken her bouquet . . . Emma couldn’t be sure.

You look so handsome
, she told Jackson without speaking.
I love you so much
.

“Please be seated,” Miguel told the guests. “The story of Emma Rae Travis and Jackson Drake,” he went on, “will make a nonbeliever truly believe in the concept of God-ordained soulmates. Jackson, a widower who bought this very hotel out of a sense of honor toward the memory of his late wife . . . and Emma, the baker brought in to contribute to furthering this crazy concept Desiree had of turning The Tanglewood Inn into a wedding destination hotel. How could that ever work, right? Especially without her.”

Jackson glanced down for a moment, and Emma stopped breathing when the connection broke . . . but when his gaze met hers again, and he smiled that familiar, warm smile at her, the rhythm of her pulse restarted.

“Jackson and Emma wanted to honor Desiree today by lighting this candle at the back of what, for this moment in time, is our sanctuary.” Miguel pointed out the purple pillar candle surrounded in flowers, front and center behind him. “Without Desiree’s love for Jackson, and her dream for this hotel, none of us would be standing here today.”

Jackson tilted his head slightly, and Emma couldn’t help herself. She reached up and caressed the line of his jaw and smiled.

“Emma and Jackson found one another here. And they think it’s only fitting that they make their lifelong commitment to one another here as well. So please join us in prayer.”

Emma’s racing heart settled inside her, and she bowed her head and closed her eyes as Miguel’s words took root.

“Father God, everyone in this room loves Emma and Jackson, and we offer our sincere good wishes for their future happiness. But as much as we love them, we also know that it isn’t a fraction of Your love for them. Your love transcends all we can think of or hope for, and we give You glory and honor for that love, Lord God. We ask for Your every blessing upon them as they commit themselves to one another and begin the journey of marriage. In Jesus’ precious and holy name, we pray. Amen.”

Emma joined the hum of agreement around her. “Amen.”

When she opened her eyes again, Jackson’s seemed glued to hers. She’d waited such a long, long time for this moment, and she’d pictured a thousand times what he would look like standing across from her, but the reality and depth of emotion in his deep brown eyes had escaped her. She never could have imagined such . . . 
love
.

“Emma and Jackson know that they haven’t arrived here, on this day and in this place, alone. They would like to take this time to honor the unification of their two families as one.”

Emma stepped off the pedestal and approached the front row on Jackson’s side of the aisle.

Looking into Georgiann’s eyes, she tipped her head to one side and sniffed back her emotions. She then looked to Madeline, and to Norma, and smiled.

“I want to thank you all for welcoming me into the arms of your family the way you have,” she said. “And according to the Book of Ruth, I ask you . . . ‘Entreat me not to leave you,
or to turn back from following after you; for wherever you go, I will go.’ ”

Georgiann lifted an embroidered lace handkerchief to wipe the tears from her eyes. Madeline and Norma grasped hands across their husbands’ laps.

“Oh,
sugah
,” Madeline crooned.

Avery burst into tears as Jackson approached her, Gavin, and Sophie. Emma grinned at her aunt, clutching the special bouquet she’d been given as
honorary
maid of honor.

Jackson took Sophie’s hand as he said, “ ‘And wherever you lodge, I will lodge; your people shall be my people, and your God, my God. Where you die, I will die, and there will I be buried. The L
ORD
do so to me, and more also, if anything but death parts you and me.’ ”

Sophie fumbled to her feet and wrapped her arms around Jackson’s neck until he nearly lifted her right off the ground. “And back to you, my boy,” she said on a chuckle. Grinning at Emma, she added, “This is your best wedding yet.”

A tear rambled down her face, and Emma laughed as she wiped it away. “I think so, too, Aunt Soph.”

“Emma and Jackson, if you’ll return to me?” Miguel invited them.

Jackson offered his arm to Emma as they climbed back on the pedestal in front of Miguel.

“The bride and groom asked if they could each choose a reading for one another at this point in the ceremony; something that summed up how they feel for one another. Neither of them knows until right at this moment, but I think it really says something profound about this young couple that they both chose different portions of the same poem.”

Emma gasped, and she looked into Jackson’s confused eyes. “E. E. Cummings?”

He nodded and laughed, then began to shake his head with understanding amazement.

“Jackson,” Miguel directed, “since your segment comes first in the poem, why don’t you go ahead and address Emma Rae first.”

Jackson took Emma’s hand in his. “You’ve always come to mind when I’ve come across this poem, Emma. I tried looking for others, but it was just . . . the only one. The way
you’re
the only one.”

Emma thought she might actually swoon, and the reaction of the guests told her she wasn’t alone.

“I carry your heart with me,” he began. “I am never without it.”

And when he finished the passage, Emma sniffed as she took just a moment to compose herself.

“Here is the root of the root,” she recited to him, “and the bud of the bud, I carry your heart . . .”

Emma couldn’t take her eyes away from Jackson’s. Without thinking, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his.

“It’s a little early for that, Emma,” Miguel said with a snort, and the guests joined in with laughter. “But we’re getting there.”

When she realized what she’d done, a flush of heat rose over her and the top of her head tingled. “Sorry.”

“Jackson, will you repeat after me?”

“Gladly.”

“I, Jackson Drake . . .”

“. . . take you, Emma Rae Travis . . .”

“. . . to be my bride . . .”

“. . . I pledge you all of my heart . . .”

“. . . and all of my love . . .”

“. . . to have and to hold . . .”

“. . . to love and to cherish . . .”

“. . . in sickness and in health . . .”

“. . . in good times and bad . . .”

“. . . in Paris or in Roswell, and anywhere in between . . .”

“. . . for as long as we both shall live . . .”

“. . . allowing only death to part us.”

“And Emma, it’s your turn. Repeat after me.”

She repeated the same vows, with all her heart, and she grinned at Jackson like a schoolgirl as she did.

“And who has the rings?” Miguel asked.

“I have them,” Andy said, and he stepped forward and offered the open ring box to Jackson.

Jackson took the diamond band from the box and placed it on the first knuckle of Emma’s ring finger.

“Take this ring as a closed circle of my pledge. I give you my heart, my loyalty, and my respect, all the days of our lives.”

Emma plucked Jackson’s ring from the box and slipped it on his finger.

“Jackson, take this ring as a closed circle of my pledge. I give you my heart, my loyalty, and my respect, for all the days of our lives.”

“The Scripture engraved on this couple’s wedding rings is from the Song of Solomon,” Miguel announced. “Chapter six, verse three. ‘I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine.’ I think that’s a good example of the mutual love and respect Emma and Jackson have for one another. So with that in our hearts, we all join in prayer for the Lord’s mighty blessing upon them.”

The corner of her mouth twitched as Emma looked up at Jackson. His eyes looked smoky and serious, smoldering with the thick haze of emotion.

“Emma, Jackson,” Miguel stated. “By the power vested in me by the State of Georgia and God Almighty, in the name
of our Savior, I now pronounce you husband and wife . . . Jackson, please feel free to kiss your bride.”

He engulfed her in his arms and pulled her to him, kissing her so deeply that she could hardly breathe. Emma’s heart raced as she returned his kiss . . . 
The Marriage Kiss
. The one she’d awaited for such a very long time.

“Okay. You two wait here until I come back for you to make your entrance,” Sherilyn instructed. “It shouldn’t be more than five or ten minutes.”

She disappeared inside The Desiree Room, and Jackson turned to Emma. “After seeing her in action today, I don’t think I pay her enough.”

Emma laughed out loud, and the music of her laughter lulled something soft and warm inside him. He ran his fingers through her hair where the bridal veil had been before Sherilyn removed it. He touched the rhinestone band and grazed his thumb over her temple.

“You look amazing.”

“I feel amazing,” she replied. “Except for my feet. My feet are killing me.”

He glanced down as she lifted the hem of her dress to reveal crystal-covered shoes. Just a trace of pale pink toenails peeked through the open front, and at least four inches of thin heel tilted her poor feet at a steep angle.

“Take them off,” he suggested.

“I can’t. Sherilyn would kill me.”

“Well, she can’t expect you to walk around in those things all night,” he objected. “You’re not used to wearing shoes that high.”

“Maybe I’ll kick them off under the table later. When she’s not looking.”

The mischievous grin she shot him made Jackson laugh.

“Listen,” he said, reaching into his jacket pocket. “I have something for you. Sort of a wedding present.”

“Jackson. I thought we weren’t doing that.”

“I know. But I saw it, and I just knew. It had to be around your neck.”

He opened the hinged lid of the velvet box to reveal the exquisite amethyst cross he’d purchased for her. She gasped when she saw it, confirming his belief that it was just Emma’s style.

“Oh, Jackson. It’s . . .” Instead of completing the thought, she simply heaved a deep sigh. “I love it.”

“I don’t want to mess with the whole perfect ensemble you have going with your jewelry today,” he said, “so I’ll keep it in my pocket for you. But I just thought this seemed like the perfect moment to give it to you.”