Dorian's Destiny: Altered (27 page)

“Yes, yes,” Father Murphy said with a clap
after releasing his hold on her. “I'm ready when you are.”

*****

Moments later, Megan stood
in Dorian's tiny bedroom. Never again would she complain about the
size of her apartment. She surveyed the meager room furnished with
only the basic necessities. She was astonished with the faith
required to endure life with so little. Fate had taken him far from
his humble beginnings and she was glad. She felt guilty, but she
couldn't help it. If he had not been turned, he would still be here
serving God. She paused in her thoughts after realizing she was in
a House of God enjoying the fact Dorian's life had taken him away
from Him. Bowing her head in shame, she pleaded, “I'm sorry,
Father. You lost a wonderful servant and I am happy because of it.”
Raising her head to the heavens, she added her pledge, hoping to
lessen the trespass she had just made. “I promise to take good care
of him though, to love him for the rest of my life.” She glanced
around the room searching for a sign of God's presence, believing
He resided in all houses of worship.

“I AM HERE, MY DEAR,” God whispered, flowing
in through the window on a gentle breeze.

“God?” She asked, feeling an immense love
fill the room.

“YOU ARE WELL DESERVING OF
MY ONCE FAITHFUL SERVANT. IF NOT FOR YOU HE WOULD STILL BE LOST TO
ME.” Up and around He swirled twice, caressing and soothing her
with HIS airy touch.

“Thank you,” she whispered
as the breeze danced around the room and back out the window. The
sudden loneliness created by the departure pulled her from her
thoughts and back to her makeshift changing room. She gazed at her
mother's wedding dress lying across Dorian's cot. She had always
admired its simple timeless elegance, a delicate chiffon gown
overlaid with a floral burnout, cap sleeves, and shirred empire
waist bodice. She remembered staring at it as a young girl in her
parents’ wedding picture, dreaming of her wedding day. Today was
that day.

The soft fabric glided across her skin as
she slipped into her mother's wedding dress. The dress fit her
nearly perfect, disproving her belief she didn't possess her
mother's statuesque frame. She smiled, realizing she was more like
her mother than she thought. Donning a pair of strappy white heels
made up for the two inches she lacked to keep the dress from
dragging.

Conflicting emotions of
loss and connection stirred within her. Her mother's presence was
missed daily, but never as deeply as now. “I miss you, mom.” she
whispered solemnly, looking to the heavens. “This is one of the
most important days of my life, and I have to do it without you.
You should be here to fuss over my hair, to hold my hand, to tell
me everything is going to be okay when I get cold feet.” she dabbed
at her eyes before the tears could fall, streaking her makeup. “I
haven't forgotten about you, dad,” she added smiling. “You should
be here to walk me down the aisle, to give me away to the only
other man I've ever loved, and to give Dorian the ‘if you don't
take great care of my little girl, I'll kill you’ glare.” She
stopped herself before saying how unfair she thought it was for God
to have deprived her of her parents on this special day. That
wasn't how she truly felt; she never blamed God – unfair things
happened, that was a part of life. Her faith told her, her parents
where in a far better place. She looked down at the cross lying
against her chest, so close to heart; the cool metal warming and
calming her soul. “Although I can't see you or touch you, I know
you're with me, watching from Heaven, like always.”

She pulled her hair up in a
messy side bun adorned with the sapphire hair comb. Although she
looked like a princess, this was not the fairytale wedding every
little girl dreams of. Her sparkling castle on the hill had been
replaced by a dimly lit old stone church. While Her Prince Charming
was a vampire. And yet it seemed perfect.

She studied her reflection
one last time in a full length mirror propped up against the only
open space on the wall; a furnishing she was sure was borrowed for
her benefit. She wondered what other things had been altered just
for her. That's when she noticed a bouquet of flowers resting on
the dresser. She brought the colorful bouquet up to her nose and
breathed in the sweet scent of roses, lilies, daises, and others
she had no name for.

*****

Dorian waited at the altar dressed in a dark
gray suit, courtesy of Thomas. Once again, he was grateful for his
former friend's impeccable taste. “Thank you,” he croaked after
Father Murphy loosened the stripped tie, choking off what little
air his nerves allowed him to inhale.

“Nervous, my son?” Father
Murphy asked. Dorian nodded. Father Murphy placed a hand on his
shoulder. “I understand. I have witnessed many grooms standing in
your place with shaking hands and squeaking voices” Squeezing
his
shoulder gently, he added, “Worry not
though. You have chosen wisely. There is no doubt you are making
the right decision by marrying Megan.

Dorian relaxed a little. He
had chosen wisely. Megan was perfect for him, but a tiny spot deep
in the back of his mind, made him question was he right for her.
Did she deserve his baggage? He couldn't fathom living without her
though. She loved him, and he hoped that would be
enough.

“Relax and breathe,” Father Murphy
instructed.

Dorian obeyed, inhaling a deep breath. The
musty scent of the church, the ancient stone, the well-worn Bibles
and hymnals filled his lungs, calming him with their familiarity.
He stood there calmly waiting to marry the love of his life.

*****

Dorian and his father held
their breaths when Megan entered the sanctuary. Sunlight filtered
in through the stain glass window, bathing her in a kaleidoscope of
colors. Her beauty bathed in God’s glorious light forever erased
the blood splattered image of the sanctuary still lingering deep
within his soul. Dorian knew in that moment, his father was right.
She was an angel sent to save him.

When she reached the altar, the couple took
each other in for a moment. “You look,” both started at the same
time. “You go first,” he insisted.

Blushing, she stammered, “I just wanted to
say you look amazing. The dark gray brings out your eyes.”

“You look amazing too. Every time I see you,
you’re more beautiful than before,” he gushed.

Father Murphy cleared his throat,
interrupting the two love bird’s compliments to one another. “The
ceremony?” He copied, payback for Dorian's earlier comment.

“Sorry,” they both replied, smiling as they
turned their attention to him.

Looking to his future daughter-in-law,
Father Murphy beamed, “I can see by your breathtaking beauty that
you found the extra furnishings in Dorian's room sufficient.”

“Yes, I did, thank you,” she paused, not
sure how she should refer to her soon to be father-in-law.

“Please call me father, my
dear, not the formal salutation, mind you, but the one of
endearing, for it is an honor for me to hold that role for you,”
Father Murphy smiled.

Touched deeply by his
kindness, she nearly teared up again; her emotions, a roller
coaster of epic proportions. “It is an honor for me as well to call
you father.” She couldn't restrain herself. She removed her hand
from Dorian's, handed him her bouquet, and embraced the old priest.
“Thank you for raising such a caring, gentle man. I promise to take
good care of him, to love him for the rest of my life.” She
whispered into her father's ear, her earlier words to God.
Accepting back her bouquet once she had relinquished her hold on
her father, she asked. “Are you responsible for this beautiful
bouquet?”

“I am,” Father Murphy bragged. “I find my
little garden allows me to express my appreciation of the beauty of
God's Creations.”

“Well, you possess quite the gift of
horticulture.”

“Thank you, my dear.”

Dorian stood, arms across his chest,
listening to the banter between his father and his bride. He
enjoyed their immediate fondness of one another, but he grew
impatient, especially since his gushing over his bride's beauty had
been interrupted. “The ceremony?” He recited for the third and
hopefully final time.

Father Murphy laughed, “Yes, yes. It seems
we all keep getting a little distracted and off task. I apologize
for my part in the hindering.”

“Me too,” Megan giggled.
“When we have more time, I would love to learn more about you, your
gardening, and young Dorian.”

“It's a date, my dear.”
Father Murphy clasped his hands together. “Let me begin by saying
how honored I am to have the privilege of presiding over this
ceremony.” He glanced between them. “I never imagined I would be
standing here before my son and such a lovely young lady, about to
do my part in solidifying the union between two souls. I could not
be happier. I just hope I will be able to make it through the
entire process without breaking down.”

She mouthed a “me too”
instead of speaking aloud, in hopes of not derailing the
proceedings another time.

“Dorian, Megan, let’s begin with a word of
prayer.”

They bowed their heads while Father Murphy
lifted his hands and head to the heavens. “Heavenly Father, bless
this union between Megan and Dorian.”

God heeded Father Murphy's
request and happily obliged, imparting more of His Spirit than
usual to fill up every corner, crack and crevice of the church this
day, hoping His increased presence would bless their union beyond
measure.

Feeling the increased
presence of His Lord, Father Murphy continued his plea with
increased vigor. “Allow their love to be a beacon of light to those
around them. Bless them with integrity, trust, and forgiveness, so
they shall not be tempted to forsake each other. Allow their
joining to be a haven for their souls. Amen. Now the vows: Is there
anything you would like to say to one another?”

Dorian nodded then turned
to face her. “The night we collided, I had no idea the young woman
I rescued from the pavement would one day rescue me from a far
worse fate. When you found me, the spark of my soul was barely a
flicker. Nearly snuffed out by my own self-hatred, now my soul is a
blaze kindled by your light. You inspire me to be the best person I
can be. I promise to love you for eternity.”

She blushed at the mention
of their head-on collision. The sweetness of his words melted her
heart, making it difficult for her to speak. Finally, she found her
voice. “Since my parents passing, without their constant reminder
of how strong love could be, I had stopped believing a love such as
theirs was possible. Thank you for proving me wrong. I promise to
love you forever.”

“Wonderful.” Father Murphy
clapped; his eyes full of happy tears. “Those were lovely. Now the
rings.” He pulled a ring from an inside pocket of his robe. Dorian,
place Megan's ring on her left ring finger and repeat after
me.”

He obeyed, slipping the
matching wedding ring onto her trembling finger “I give this ring
as a symbol of my love and faithfulness.”

“Megan now you,” Father Murphy
instructed.

She held out her hand to Father Murphy, who
looked confused for a moment.

“Oh, sorry.” Father Murphy
muttered, looking at the ring still in his hand. “Here you go, my
dear. I apologize for my elderly moment.” Father Murphy laughed as
he handed the ring to Megan, “Repeat after me.”

She accepted the wedding
ring bought from an antique shop. She had little hope of finding a
ring to match her own. Not until he slipped her wedding ring onto
her finger did she realize how perfectly they complemented one
another. She breathed out a heavy breath to steady herself as she
slipped the ring on Dorian's finger. “I give this ring as a symbol
of my love and faithfulness.”

“Well it looks as though we
both survived this momentous occasion without a breakdown,” Father
Murphy spoke to her.

“Indeed,” she replied,
though she had barely held in her tears during the
process.

Father Murphy bowed his head. “Let us close
with a prayer. Heavenly Father, please surround Dorian and Megan
with Your Love. Keep them close to You always. Keep them ever
faithful to each other and to You, in Jesus’ precious Name,
Amen.”

“Amen.” They repeated as they raised their
heads.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You
may kiss the bride,” Father Murphy exclaimed.

Dorian leaned down, softly
placing his lips to Megan's. He resisted kissing her like he truly
wanted in front of his father, that kiss would come
later.

“You missed the turn.” Megan noted as she
watched the green exit sign slip from her line of sight.

“I know,” Dorian replied
without turning his gaze from the road.

She stared at his side profile, brows
knitted, awaiting an explanation for their change in course. He
struggled to hide his smile as he felt her eyes bore into the side
of his face. After a few minutes of silence, she demanded, “Do I
get to know where we are going?”

“No.” He shook his head. “It's a
surprise.”

“Will this surprise require a blindfold?”
She asked apprehensively.

He turned to his new bride, a flirtatious
grin gracing his face. “Maybe,” he crooned seductively.

She turned nervously back
to the window, her body overheating.

A blindfold? What exactly is Dorian
expecting on our wedding night? Is he envisioning some kind of
kinky S and M?