Love's Battle (True Blue Trilogy) (27 page)

“How did she…?” My mind was spinning. “Is it even possible?”

“From what she said it is and I can think of no one I’d rather spend the rest of this life and the next with. That is, if you would do me the great honor, Gra, daughter of Cinaed mac Alpin of becoming my wife.”

Speechless I could only wrap my arms around Danton’s neck and cry.

Chapter 51

Here Comes the Bride

Love

The morning dawned clear and bright, the air uncommonly warm. With the projected daily forecast calling for blue skies and highs in the sixties. A brisk autumn cold front would be descending upon the region within the coming week, bringing with it the first taste of winter. But today…oh…today was perfect. Hope had gone above and beyond in her role as wedding planner and I was sure a new branch of True Blue was in the works.

The Irvine Nature Center was the perfect spot for an end of the year outdoor wedding. Standing on a crested hill top, Caves Valley rolled and tumbled down below us in lush carpets that held the last greenery of the season. Around us flaming trees of orange and red encircled the family and friends joining us on this wonderful day. The sights, sounds, and smells of visitors enjoying the ongoing Pumpkin Festival yards away only added to the excitement of the day.

Going over my last minute mental check list I made sure I had everything I needed. I didn’t want to jinx the big day. There was “something old”- the vintage rubies and seed pearls at my throat. “Something new”- the exquisite form fitting strapless dress of cream colored French lace with its low cut back and tiered layers flowing gently from mid thigh into the flared mermaid skirt. Gracing my feet were a ravishing pair of fabric lace ribbon appliquéd peep toe heels by Maritinez Valero. “Something borrowed”-

Chanton’s well-matched rubies winked from my ears. “Something blue”…well…blue… That was everywhere.

Peeking out from behind the ivy-covered trellis that hid me from the groom’s view I could see Danton’s father, Carmine, seated on Chanton’s left—their blue aura surprisingly nice and strong—while to her right sat the largely ignored frog number four. Melanie and Everett sat among the groom’s side with Rich and Carrie- talk about a small world. Jon had brought a girl with him whose name I didn’t bother to remember- she wouldn’t be with him for long. I’d make sure of that! I was already forming a plan to re-introduce him to Danton’s cousin the highly efficient Miss Sophie, in a new light. By this time next year I intended to see another branch of the DeAngelo family tree sprouting roots of its own.

On the bride’s side Molly, wearing her engagement ring, sat beside Jeffery among the other employees from my museum. Pretty little Claire sat on her mother’s knee, her father’s arm wrapped around them. There was Mr. Dillon and his wife Hazel, their blue aura shinning bright. I made a mental note to introduce Mrs. Perceval’s granddaughter Zoe to Kevin, frog number four. Poor thing might as well get something good out of the deal since I foresaw a divorce in his upcoming future. Hopefully a renewal of wedding vows that have been waiting patiently in the wings for a certain mother and father in law’s eyes to be open wasn’t too far off.

A flash of black hidden among the trees caught my eye. A raddled old crone with white hair brushing the ground and crippled with arthritis graced us with her presence. Before my eyes she transformed into a beautiful matron, a lovely young girl, and finally as a white crow she took to the skies.

As the orchestra began Martini’s Plaisir d’amour Faith gave me a saucy wink, starting down the white linen path that would lead me directly to my husband. Dressed in a tea length gown of pale copper tied with a ruby sash and wearing matching wine colored Nappa Booties by Valentino, Hope, clutching her twine tied fall bouquet of white dahlias, chocolate cosmos, and orange berries blew me a kiss as she began her walk. Hearing the change in the bridal march, it was my turn. Taking a deep breath I took the first of the last steps I would take as Love Howard.

Chapter 52

Danton

I really wanted to be here. Surrounded by the happy sound of children’s laughter echoing in the distance. The smell of fresh caramel apples, pumpkins, and cider scenting in the air as I stood beside the priest waiting for Love. She was radiant, her honey colored hair pulled off her neck the way I liked and threaded through with a satin ribbon. She was a vision of splendor; the first jewels my father had given my mother hanging proudly at her ears. With every step that brought her closer the feelings in my heart grew. It felt so right to have her standing at my side, her hand in mine.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today in the joining of Love Howard and Danton DeAngelo. If there be anyone here who can give sufficient reason as to why these two should not wed, let them speak now, or forever hold their peace.”

Love caught my eye with a wink, the laughter behind us ringing out like music. There would be no one to object today, not when it was true love in the making.

“Do you Danton Xavier DeAngelo take Love Marie Howard to be your wife?

“No.”

I ignored the gasps behind me as Love’s hand crushed the bones in my fingers together, laughter burning in her eyes at the sound of our guests’ outrage. “I take you Love Marie Howard to be my partner in this life and the next, to not only be just my wife… to be my everything.”

Eyes shinning, Love smiled back at me, returning the promise. “And I take you Danton Xavier DeAngelo to be my partner in this life and in the next, to not only be just my husband…to be my everything.”

Chapter 53

Holidays

Love

Dear Journal,

Today is November twenty eight, two thousand- thirteen. It’s Thanksgiving, a perfect day for one who has so much to be thankful for.

I’ve only got two minutes, so I’ll make it quick. It’s the first holiday in our new home. How apt was it that Angelo Cottage a wonderful eighteen-thirties recreation of France’s, Angelo Castle would come up for sale after we returned from our honeymoon. Kismet! I look forward to the first snow fall of the year that should be happening any day now. To sit with a hot cup of tea, my husband by my side, and watch as dainty little flakes fall from the heavens. To feel the magic, to see the world, a picturesque powder covered wonderland.

The stuffing and cranberries are done, the marshmallows on top of the sweet potato casserole are golden brown and the turkey is roasting in the oven. A mouthwatering aroma filling the air- if the smell of it didn’t make me so nauseous, everything would be perfect. Though it’s doubtful I’ll ever be able to eat turkey again after today.

I’m chugging ginger ale by the gallon and trying to put on a brave face and keep the endless churning at bay just for today. Hopefully I won’t disgrace myself by up chucking at the table. That would be terrible. A lot has to go as planned today. Our whole family, Danton’s and mine, will gather here for the first time. There’s a lot of pressure to ensure that everything turns out right and if Danton doesn’t keep his hands off my stuffing, he’ll be next years turkey!

Our one month anniversary was two days ago and I’m still feeling the high. The peridot, sapphire and diamond portrait wedding ring Danton had made to match my eyes catches the light so pretty and the Christian Louboutin suede high heel boots that were my first month gift are gorgeous. My husband knows me so well! He even helped me to finally make par down at the Oaks shortly before our wedding! How sweet is that? But don’t get me wrong, the battle wages on.

All in all, the beginning of our life together has gone fairly well. DeAngelo Advertising agreed to handle the museum’s publicity next year for a cut throat fee and a few sexual favors to be paid strictly boss to boss. I can’t wait for the unveiling.

Chanton gave poor ol’ Kevin his walking papers while we were on our honeymoon in Italy. I think it’s way past time for the sisters to pull a little matchmaking of our own on Danton’s parents and end all this foolishness. In fact, I have the perfect bribe in mind. Speaking of which, oops, times up. The moment of truth.

Hey, one last thought before I blow Danton’s socks off. With all the firsts going one, the first Thanksgiving, the first Christmas, we can now safely add one more to the list of firsts. The first child.

I’m thinking Karmina Alexandra DeAngelo for a girl or Konstantine Dracos

DeAngelo for a boy! I’ll let you know when I find out. And wouldn’t the nursery just be the best if it was decorated with all the trinkets I’ve given Danton. A mystic theme with lots of colors and stars; a few of Faith’s tapestries hanging on the walls. I can see it already.

Until then,

Happy Thanksgiving,

Love Howard DeAngelo

“And when life’s sweet fable ends;

Soul and body part like friends;

No quarrels, murmurs, no delay;

A kiss, a sigh, and so away.”

~Richard Crashaw, Temperance

Epilogue

Siubhal

It calls to us twice each life; this vast and enchanted land of our birth.

With its hills of rolling green carpet, towering scaly crags, and deep crystalline lochs, we feel an undeniable and unerring pull. Like the sweet arms of a lover drawing us into his comforting embrace following the end of a long awaited absence the rich and eerie tones of the bagpipe echo throughout the Highlands.

Around us, tombstones, age worn by the passing of years, wiped clean by the uncaring hands of wind and rain stand guard; faceless witnesses to our reunion. As the stars rise high the night breeze picks up, carrying with it the ghostly whispers of salutations from friends and family jubilant at our return.

The fog, tangible wisps of pearl colored breath creeps in. Enveloping our private gathering it shields us from any prying eyes that would bear witness to the nights’ events.

In the dim glow of the lantern’s light we work in silence. No words need to be spoken, we’ve done this before. Three parts of one whole, our young muscles fluid with power and grace, we work in tandem; one rendering echoed again and again.

Today is March seventh two thousand seventy-seven; we are eighty-nine and have lived a good long life.

Three parts of one whole, our frail and feeble bodies’ flow once again with power and grace. We work in tandem one rendering echoed again and again, the shovels strong in our wrinkled hands, our warm breath visible in the frosty night air, pungent smell of disturbed earth fills our nostrils. Full bodied and pure in flavor, the scent intensifies with every measure of Scottish soil that we remove from the growing hole at our feet. Hearing the telltale muffled clank of metal kissing metal we set aside our shovels to pull the tarp covered trunk from its long dormant grave, where it has sat undisturbed for the last seventy one years.

Brushing the dirt and grime from the ornately worked padlock we pull back the rusted lid, the hinges screeching their protests after many years of disuse, revealing the cavernous space inside that begs to be filled by the smaller chests that sit waiting at our feet. Being the youngest of Cinaed and Riona’s triplets, my box of memories goes in last.

Inside my coffer, mingling among the ancient lay the treasured pieces of another lifetime full of love and joy. To it I’ve added my latest journal, a most favored picture of my well-remembered wedding day along with one of each my children, and the lovely ruby lavaliere that I wore along with the matching earrings Chanton gifted with me before her own death. I couldn’t put it off any longer and so with great longing and regret I pulled the small velvet bag from my pocket and freed the ring that has sat unmoved from my ring finger for the last sixty four years. An unfathomable symbol of the love shared between Danton and myself. My heart still breaks from his passing just a month earlier. With great sorrow I placed the ring into the bag and the bag into the chest, already desperate for the time when it will once again grace my hand. We made a promise to love each other this life and the next and I take great comfort in knowing I will see my Danton again in the next life.

Together we turned the lock of the sealed lid, laying our bygones to rest, burying our eleventh life as surely as if we were dead already. Avelbane stood by our sides, ever present, ready to comfort the loved ones we’ll leave behind when this life comes to an end. It has been a life full of happiness and bliss.

And in the end, love’s battle fought and won, most lovingly, was a draw.

A word about the author...

A married mother of two, Angela Hayes lives in Alabama. When not writing, she can be found with a book in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other.

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