The World's Most Eligible Bachelor

Epilogue Part 1: The Wedding

A multi-colored canvas came to life around me. In every direction, flaming reds, maroons and crimsons, vibrant yellow and amber, bursts of orange, reminiscent of persimmons and fresh carrots from the garden. In the distance, one hill was covered with neat, auburn lines, another with goldenrod stripes, and yet another with rows the color of pumpkin orange. Vineyards all around us were exploding with color and fruit. 

I couldn't have asked for a better day for our wedding. 

There we stood, my arm linked with my father's, my heart threatening to race out of my chest and down the aisle before Dad and I took our first step. Harry was there waiting, but he was obscured by the groomsmen; that, and he hadn't turned around yet for me to see him. He was doing it on purpose, I just knew he was. He didn't want me to see him and he didn't want to catch sight of me until I was standing right in front of him. He had gotten his hair cut short a few months ago and I was still getting used to it. Regardless, he was insanely handsome and that would probably never change because I saw him with my heart, which meant that even if he dyed his hair fuchsia (which I hoped he would never do) and gained 40 lbs., he would still be beautiful to me.

The idea of my father "giving me away" seemed a bit antiquated, to be honest, but a few nights before our wedding, Dad told me that he had hoped and prayed for all of my life that he would be able to trust another man to take care of me. Harry fit that description for him in every way possible. Obviously, Harry could provide for our family financially, which was never my primary concern, since I made enough to support myself. But Dad also knew how Harry had stood by me when I encountered my mother in Dublin, that he had bent some of the rules because my emotional well-being was more important to him than having the show be perfect and polished. And of course, it spoke volumes to him the moment he saw the look on Harry's face when we reunited in Liverpool. 

The string quartet began to play "Autumn" by Vivaldi, which was my signal to begin the last walk I'd ever take with my father as a single woman. Of course, it was fitting for the season, but I also appreciated the fact that it was a bit more lighthearted than the long, low tones of Pachelbel's Canon in D, which was beautiful, but just a little too slow for our tastes, and of course, boringly overused. 

When we reached Harry, my father shook his hand, but Harry grabbed him and they practically crushed each other in a manly hug. When Dad turned to me, his eyes were glistening with waiting tears. "Love you, Dimples," he whispered. 

"Love you, too, Dad." 

Then Harry and I faced each other and neither of us was able to stop smiling. The words of our vows and the music of the strings carried us above the vineyards while our family and friends looked on. My feet didn't touch the ground the entire day.