She was timeless, exquisite even.

There she stood in all whiteness, her hair falling against her arms the way light frames a windowpane. Her lips were permanently pressed together, as if it took all the effort she could muster to keep them reasonably down. She saw faces and heard laughter, but it all fell mute as she replayed the way he smiled when she breathed the words, I do.

She had planned it all. A winter wedding, she knew, was not her preference. But she chose. she ordered the crystal glasses so they would catch the light of the chandeliers above, picked the best gouda cheese because no celebration she had anything to do with could be without, kindly asked her brother to perform the music, compiled the jazz sheet music for him. She had gone back and forth: traditional or casual? Red or Gold? Heels or flats? Flower girls or not? Invite Great Aunt Paula? Brunch or dinner? Daisies or lilies?

But at the end of it all, none of that mattered, really. There she stood, looking like a fool trying to suppress a smile, and thinking of nothing else but the way his fingertips brushed her arm behind her.

@ 2010 by Rachel Lowry. All Rights Reserved {photo via}

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