Page 95 of Atone, Adonis

“You cannot,” she said, guiding her horse to follow his.

“But of course I can.” He tilted his head as another bird sang. “There he is now. Do you mean to tell me that you, my darling wife, do not even know the sound of our little bird? And to think you fashioned yourself its hero.”

“As I recall it, husband, that was you.”

She was laughing when she said it though, and it made his heart trill just as happily as that bird was doing.

“It certainly was not. I would never bestow such an overblown title on us. Recall I am the man who named my Irish Hunter Hunter.”

She laughed again as he turned them down another little path.

“Where are we going Fred?” she finally asked and he glanced at her over his shoulder.

“You’ll see soon enough.”

The church came into view as they rounded the next bend, its stone walls softened by climbing greenery, the small lawn around it dotted with wildflowers. It, like everything else, looked so different to him now at the height of summer than it had on the bracingly cold day when they’d married here.

“Oh, Fred!”

He heard her gasp as her eyes took in the lanterns that had been strung along the low stone wall, their glass catching the sunlight. And the garlands of greenery and early roses that had been woven around the door. Beyond, through the open threshold, she could see the pews had been decorated with neat, white ribbons. And at the front, a gentleman stood ready to tune the organ.

“What is all this?” she murmured as Fred pulled Hunter up to her mare.

“Come and see,” he said, dismounting.

He tied Hunter to the nearest tree branch and then circled back around to help Julianna down. Then he led her up the short path and through the open door of St. Oswald’s.

Inside, the church was filled with light. The windows had been thrown open, and the summer air moved gently through the space, stirring the ribbons and the flowers arranged along the pews. At the front, near the altar where they had stood months ago, there was now a simple arch woven with white blooms.

And hanging just beyond it—

Julianna drew in a sharp breath.

Fred had hung her wedding gown there. He’d taken it to Madame Tremaux’s with a set of instructions so exacting the Frenchwoman had practically laughed in his face. But the results were spectacular—it was still her mother’s gown, but now it was Julianna’s too. As elegant and lovely as she was and precisely tailored to her frame.

“I hope you don’t mind but I thought—Jules—I wanted you to have this. Madame Tremaux assures me it can be changed back if you’d rather—”

“No!” She cut off his words. “No, Fred. It’s gorgeous. I hardly know what to say.”

“Say you’ll marry me tomorrow. Here, in a gown that’s all yours. In a church filled with flowers as it ought to be. With musicians playing one of your father’s songs. Say you’ll marry me properly.”

Julianna turned her head to look at him and he could see the sheen of tears in her eyes. He was certain he had them too but he ignored them.

“I choose you, Jules. Again and again and again. You, exactly as you are. And I hope that tomorrow you will stand here and choose me. Exactly as I am.”

He gestured toward the space before them. “And if there’s anything you want done differently….anything you’d like to change…I’ll see it done.”

She looked around the space quietly for a moment. “It’s perfect,” she finally said. “But I can’t get married without Thomas here.”

“Of course you can’t. He should be arriving at the Manor any moment.”

She looked from him to the gown, to the sunlight spilling across the stone floor, to the place by the altar where they’d said their vows the first time.

“I was so angry that day,” she said. “Furious at what fate had had in store for me. Little did I know that fate was hiding the very best thing in my life behind the facade of the very worst.”

She laughed and stepped closer to him, grasping both of his hands in hers. “Yes, I will marry you tomorrow. In that beautiful dress and with all these gorgeous flowers and my brother sitting in the audience. I will marry you every day if that’s what it takes for you to know that you are mine. And you are loved.”

His breath whooshed out of him. “Are you certain?”