Five
HELEN AND I MOVE QUICKLY to the sacristy as the final hymn begins. Once inside, I close the door and take my beaming bride-to-be in my arms.
Squeezing her tight, I say, “You OK?”
“Uh-huh,” she says. “You?”
“Just fine.” Pulling away just enough to see her smiling face look up at me, my arms still around her waist, hers around my neck, I say, “I think that went well.”
“I really didn’t know what to expect, Tom,” she laughs. “I mean, I didn’t think people with pitchforks and torches would run up front, but I didn’t expect all the applause. I swear I heard Catherine screaming, ‘I knew it!’”
“I thought I heard that too,” I laugh. Looking her in the eyes, I brush a curl behind her ear. “I love you, Helen Parr,” I whisper.
“I love you, Tom Greer,” she says. I lean down and kiss her.
J
