June - weddings, brides, and romance in the air!
From the desk of Lee Ann Sontheimer
Murphy
Something
about weddings appeals to our romantic natures and everyone – or almost
everyone – adores a bride. June is
traditionally a popular month for weddings, a custom dating back to Roman times
when marrying during a month named for the goddess of marriage, Juno, seemed
auspicious. On this first day of June in
a unseasonable and strange spring, I thought I’d share some of my favorite
bride photographs and a few wedding snippets from some of my various
works. Since I write romance, weddings
seem to happen within the pages of my novels fairly often and since as a child
I was somewhat wedding-obsessed, it’s no surprise. Every little girl may dream of one day being
a bride but I doubt many others insisted on having a wedding each and every
Sunday without fail with one cousin forced into service as the reluctant groom
and another standing in for the parson.
I’ve written about very conventional
weddings and some that are as unconventional as it gets. From Love
Tattoo, book 1 of my Love Covenant series, here’s what happens when a
vampire weds his lady…..
After
the formal rite, the unchanging and age old promises made, Father Tobin let us
express ourselves in our own way. Maybe
it wouldn’t have happened if there had been a church full of people but at that
hour, alone, he gave us flexibility.
I picked up my Gibson from the front pew and
faced Will, strap over my chest as if this were a gig. The words were not mine but what I sang, I
sang from the heart. As I chorded the
music, the plaintive, tender words of Jim Croce’s Time
In A Bottle, I watched Will’s face and the joy I saw reflected echoed in my
own heart. We have time, all the time
there will be, together, all the days until eternity passes away to spend
together. That’s more than Croce had and
I treasure it.
When
I finished the song, a stray tear tracked down Will’s cheek and he took my
hands in his, despite the guitar between us.
In that voice I adored, he quoted again from Romeo and Juliet,
“My bounty is as boundless as the
sea; my love as deep. The more I give,
the more I have for both are infinite.”
Like an arrow shot with skill,
those words struck me through the heart, speared me, and reached my very soul. My song, his quoted poetry, those became our
personal vows as we expressed our love with our style. Emotion flooded all my senses and overflowed
as tears cascaded down my cheeks.
Now here’s a more traditional exchange of vows, 1920’s
style, from Guy’s Angel..
“You
look like the angel Guy thinks you are,” Mama said, when she pirouetted to show
off the dress. “You’re beautiful,
Lorraine.”
“Thanks,”
Angel whispered, staring at the reflection in her mother’s dresser mirror. In the old glass, her image wavered but the
dress enhanced her appearance so much she felt like a stranger. Around her neck she wore her mother’s faux
pearls for something borrowed, little gold earrings once Granny Ryan’s for something old, and the dress
itself was new.
The
silk bodice dropped, pannier style, to the skirt with an overlay of gold lace
trimmed with a knot of wax flowers, beads, and ribbons centered at the
waist. The cap style bonnet fit snug
against her short bob and the veil, more netting than lace, hung to her waist behind.
She looked very much a bride but not much like Angel, the girl who wanted to
fly, and she hoped Guy would still find her pretty in the ritzy get up. When she voiced that to her mother, Mama
laughed, “He’s going to think you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever laid eyes on
his life. That young man loves you.”
“I
love him, too.”
Her
mother nodded, “Oh, Lorraine, I know.
Let’s go to church.”
Angel
retrieved her bridal bouquet from the ice box, a present from Guy. The huge bunch of flowers took both hands to
hold and from the fragrant blossoms, ribbons trailed, some tied in the
traditional lover’s knots. The white roses, baby’s breath, and pale white
carnations surrounded a single red rose and it was the loveliest bride’s
bouquet she’d ever seen. The flowers from Stuppy’s arrived early, not long
after the milkman left the milk on the porch.
Pop, hands shaking, pinned a corsage to her mother’s best dress. Her
baby brother, just turned sixteen, looked pale and strange in his new suit
jacket, bought just for the occasion.
Pop
drove them so they wouldn’t to walk in their finery. Since that night he’d come to the house
looking for Guy and spent hours keeping vigil with her mother, Pop came around
often and Angel, with mixed amusement and surprise, thought he might be sweet
on Mama. What shocked her most of all, however, was the idea Mama might feel
the same way.
At St. Mary’s, the sparse crowd looked tiny in
the huge sanctuary but they’d agreed they just wanted their closest folks to attend.
Since her dad was deceased, Ed, as her nearest elder male relative, walked her
down the aisle to the soft strains of “The Wedding March". Guy's sister,
Bettie, walked before her as matron of honor and down before the altar, Guy
waited with Charlie, his best man at his side.
In
the pews, on opposite sides of the center aisle, their mothers watched with the
other gathered relatives as Angel came down the aisle with measured tread,
heart pounding and tears threatening to erupt. Guy, more handsome than ever in
a brand new suit he’d bought at Block Brothers at a sharp discount, watched
her, his hazel eyes intent on each step she made. She made eye contact and held his gaze,
relying on it as she stepped toward him.
Her nervous tremors eased when she stood
beside him, inside the altar rail.
Despite his pallor, he smiled at her and Angel relaxed, letting the
happiness that buoyed her up each time she thought about the reality of
becoming his wife expand until it filled her. The familiar words of the Mass
succored her and when the time came to make their vows, she spoke hers to him
in a clear, calm voice. His eyes never
left hers when he made his own and when they were pronounced husband and wife,
he took her into his arms and kissed her as if they were alone.
Guy’s
mouth touched hers with the reverence for something holy, the tenderness for
something precious and his mouth offered love. She kissed him back, enjoying
the slow, subtle caress that still carried a hint of passion to come. As they
walked back down the aisle, hands linked, she noticed all of the other pilots
and would-be aviators from the field sat on the groom’s side of the aisle along
with some of Guy’s fellow veterans, some in their uniforms. On her side, Pop
sat beside her mother. Four girls she
worked with at Kresge’s sat behind her family and in the same pew, several old
high school classmates sat, familiar and yet strange.
Outside
the church, at the top of the steps, Angel stopped Guy. As a slight breeze caught her veil and
wrapped it around them like an embrace, she looked up at him,
“Can
I get a better kiss than that, ace?”
“Baby,”
he said with a grin that outshone the morning sun and melted her heart. “You
got all the cash you want.”
This
time he kissed her until her head whirled, his mouth firm and searching against
her mouth. Guy’s lips seared hers until
she burned hot as a candle flame and felt as pliable as wax. She clung to him, his strong arms supporting
her and Angel knew beyond any doubt, she was home, forever, in his embrace.
They might have remained there kissing in the heat forever except the wedding
guests pelted them with rice and the interruption inspired them to race down
the stairs to his car.
And how about a war time wedding from In The Shadow of War…
The Newton County courthouse claimed the center of
the downtown square. Bette remembered
the old one, a red brick towering edifice with Victorian style, but the new one
couldn’t be more modern with square lines.
She remembered the period between when the open space looked so strange
and watching the new one emerge from the ground up. They held the big dedication in October, sophomore
year, and the kids all walked over from the high school to hear Senator
Truman’s speech. She’d never imagined being married here, but today it fit. Inside, the marble hallways thronged with more
people than she’d seen on previous visits.
It turned out half of them were waiting to get married.
Most
of the grooms were just like Benny, soldiers from Camp Crowder, and Bette’s
heart dropped, thinking they’d never get wed today. She sighed so hard the sound became almost a
whimper and Benny turned to her. “What’s a-matter?”
“If they’re all waiting, too, we’ll never get married
today,” she said, surprised and saddened.
A few hours ago she’d never dreamed this could be her wedding day, but
now she’d set her heart on having it. If
it wasn’t, now she’d be disappointed.
“Sure we will,” Benny said. “We’ll get married,
baby. I promise. Wait here.”
Bette sank down on a bench against one wall and
watched him move through the crowds.
Benny vanished into the press of people and she sat, eyes closed,
praying maybe they could be married today after all. Although it’d seemed cool as they entered, the
crowded hallway grew warm and she got overheated. She opened her eyes to fan with her
pocketbook, but it didn’t provide much relief.
All the events of the past day,
less than twenty four hours, swirled around in her mind until Bette’s head spun
dizzy. The man she loved lost a brother
and Benny’s emotional condition worried her. On top of it she’d given up her virginity and
made love for the first time. Now she
might or might not wed today. Between
the heat and everything else, she realized she might experience another first
if she fainted. She tried to put her
head down to stop the whirling circles but the movement only increased it.
“Bette?” Benny’s voice cut through the spinning
mayhem. “You awright?”
He sounded concerned so she pasted on a smile as she
raised her head. “I’m hot and I got a little dizzy, but I’m fine.”
“Good,” he said as he watched her with an anxious
frown. “C’mon, we’re moving to the head of the line.”
Benny grasped
her hand and pulled her up from the bench.
His physical contact eased Most of her vertigo and if she understood,
they were about to say their vows.
“How’d you do that?”
He rubbed his thumb and first two fingers together in
an age old motion. “I greased the skids with a little dough, baby. I wasn’t raised in Brooklyn for nothing. A little cash put us up next. Are you ready to do this?”
All her dizzy malaise vanished. “I sure am, honey.”
Stares and glares from the other waiting couples
followed them as they headed into the office to offer the information and buy
the license. Within a half hour they
entered the judge’s inner office, meeting another couple coming out. The judge, one Bette knew by sight from
around town, sat with a smoldering cigar between his fingers and a glass she
figured wasn’t iced tea. He greeted
them, came to his feet, and began the simple civil ceremony.
Without a bridal veil, outside the sacred circle of
church, inhaling cigar smoke, Bette repeated the familiar words as she promised
to love, honor, cherish, and obey Ben Levy for the rest of her life. When her groom said the same, she listened
and saw nothing but him. Although she heard the judge’s voice, flavored with
more than a bit of bourbon, Bette looked into Benny’s eyes. He produced a pair of rings from his pocket,
a fine, almost fragile narrow band for her and a heavier wedding ring for him. He slid the lovely ring onto her left hand
and handed her his ring. Bette managed
to put it onto his finger and when she did, Benny kept her hand to hold tight.
The
shelves of law books, the smoke stained drapes, the office became invisible and
when the judge pronounced them man and wife by the power invested by the state
of Missouri, she felt just as married as if they’d had a Nuptial Mass.
“You can kiss your bride if you want, son,” the judge
said. “But make it snappy. I got at
least ten more weddings today. And
congratulations to you both.”
Without hurry
and with slow deliberation, Benny took Bette into his arms and kissed her, his mouth
cherishing hers with tenderness and love.
It wasn’t a passionate kiss, but she couldn’t have dreamed of anything
sweeter. Then, still holding her hand,
they left the office as Mr. and Mrs. Ben Levy.
As they moved through the waiting crowds, he put his arm around her and
steered them through the mass. Outside,
Bette raised her left hand so sunlight touched the ring with living fire. “It’s so dainty and pretty,” she told him. “I
love it.”
A smile played over his lips like music. “I thought
maybe you would. So, Mrs. Levy what do
you want to do now?”
“I have no idea,” Bette said, happiness bubbling up
like a spring inside. “Anything you want, honey.”
“I want it all,” Benny replied with a playful growl.
“Come here, wife.”
These are just a few of the wedding scenes from my various writings! Scroll down to see where to find me - and a few more bride pics too!
Find me and my multiple
titles here:
MY LINKS
Twitter: leeannwriter
From Sweet to Heat: The Romance of Lee Ann
Sontheimer Murphyhttps://www.facebook.com/pages/From-Sweet-To-Heat-The-Romance-of-Lee-Ann-Sontheimer-Murphy/287540748010934?ref=hl
Amazon author page: http://www.amazon.com/Lee-Ann-Sontheimer-Murphy/e/B004JPBM6I
Blog: Rebel Writer: Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy
Thank you so much! Glad to discover your blog as well :)
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