A noise to the right makes us all look to see a street vendor opening a large yellow umbrella lined with feathers.
“You’re right,” I say, gathering the train of my dress and turning to follow him, the thumb drive hidden in my palm against the flowers.
He’s wearing a light gray, three-piece suit, and he holds out an arm. I take it, and Molly follows behind us. We don’t have permission to be here doing this, so we’re not only hoping to beat the crowds, we’re hoping to beat the constable, too.
A friend of Roland’s who was a minister in a former life waits at the fountain on the other side of the iron monument, and another of Roland’s friends plays Pachelbel’s Canon on the accordion. We walk past the ancient, oversized palms clustered beneath the sweeping live oak trees with their dark branches hanging low.
Like everything we’ve done, it’s exciting and clandestine and perfect, and when I finally see my future husband, my breath catches. He’s gorgeous standing by the small fountain waiting for me. He’s wearing a dark suit, and his hair is pushed back from his face. His blue silk tie makes his blue eyes glow, and I can see the dimple in his cheek despite the light scruff of beard.
A small crescent of pink petals and two white pillar candles in jars form the staging area where we’ll say our vows. Roland passes me to Mark before stepping aside next to Armand, Phillip, and Evie.
Evie’s wearing a long, pale pink dress, and Jillian is in her arms. Our baby is all in white with a bow in her thickening hair, and she lets out a little squeal when she sees me. We laugh softly, and once the music ends, we draw closer in a group to begin the ceremony.
I hand the bouquet to Molly, and just before taking Mark’s hands, I slip the thumb drive into his breast pocket
“I’ll explain later,” I whisper.
Naturally, that provokes a murmur from our friends. Mark only grins and covers my hands with his larger ones. He lifts my fingers and kisses the backs of them as the minister begins.
Another gentle breeze swirls around us as we recite the traditional vows and exchange our rings. My wedding band has three small, emerald-cut diamonds along the front. It’s my compromise with Mark, and after we’ve promised to love, honor, and protect, the minister falls silent for us to say our own thoughts.
“Lara.” Mark reaches for my waist, pulling me closer to his body. “The first time I saw you, I dreamed of making you mine. Despite all the forces pulling us apart, I never gave up on that dream. I promise always to catch you when you fall, protect you from the darkness, and hold your hand in the light.” My eyes heat as he says the final words. “Thank you for my beautiful little girl and for making my dream come true. I’ll love you all my life.”
Smiling, I reach up to touch the tears away. Jillian makes a noise that sounds like Mama, and I look over my shoulder. Evie is right there, and I reach out for the baby, taking her in my arms. Mark smiles, and puts a hand on her little arm.
Noises of the street vendors setting up grows louder around us, and I hear the clip-clop of the horse-drawn carriages taking their spots to wait along Decatur Street.
Clearing my throat, I begin. “Mark, you saved my life, you made me laugh, and you gave me this beautiful little girl.” Pausing, I inhale a shaky breath. “You’re my hero and my handsome prince all in one gorgeous package.” I look down, shaking my head. “I’m sorry I ran from you… I’m sorry I was afraid. I promise, from now on, I’ll only ever run toward you, into your arms. You’ve proven you’re strong enough to face anything that might chase us. Thank you for loving me, for giving me hope, and for rescuing me from the darkness. I’ll love you forever.”
A loud sniffle from Evie makes us laugh, and the minister cuts in. “I now pronounce you man and wife, you may kiss the bride.”
Mark pulls me to him, covering my mouth with his. I reach up to hold the back of his neck, and as our lips part, a loud cheer erupts around us. Our kiss transforms into a laugh as a brass band starts playing “Tootie Ma” behind us.
Mark gives me another quick kiss before turning to our clapping, smiling friends.
“Let’s get out of here,” he says, and we blow out the candles and take off down the sidewalk in the direction of Preservation Hall.
Our reception is set up inside, with two tables holding assorted breakfast foods from scrambled eggs to fresh beignets and a huge bowl of grits. Another table holds Mimosas and a station for Bloody Marys. Small bouquets of flowers are in Mason jars and tied to the iron gates at the entrance.
Mark and I have our first dance as husband and wife to “I Think I Love You.” From there, the playlist continues with New Orleans standards and newer favorites from “Santiago” to “That’s It,” while we mingle with our friends in the growing crowd, sip drinks, and have breakfast.
“This is amazing,” Joshua says, sliding up beside Molly, a Mimosa in his hand.
Roland bounces Jillian on his hip, and she smiles, clapping to the music. Mark’s hands grip my waist, and he holds my back to his chest.
The weathered grey interior blends with the flowers, the food, and the music in an inviting scene of family and home. I’m tapping in time with the music when it suddenly stops.
The fellow on the piano holds out a hand to me, and shouts, “Time for cake!”
The music changes into Mardi Gras, and two ladies walk out. One holds a cake decorated with a white basket-weave frosting and littered with purple irises, yellow roses, and green carnations. The other has an enormous king cake with beads and purple, green, and yellow sugar-covered icing.
Stepping out of Mark’s embrace, I lead him to the table where we pose for pictures as we cut the cakes and give each other small bites. He leans in and kisses me sugary sweet as the room bursts into cheers and applause.
“Happy?” He holds my waist, and rubs his nose against mine.
“Ecstatic.” I kiss his lips again. “I’ve wanted to be here with you again so long.”
The band takes a break as the cake is cut and handed out to all the guests and visitors. Coffee is served, and Evie stands with her head on Armand’s shoulder. Their hands are clasped, and Phillip sits in a nearby chair, holding a coffee.