A Marriage of True Minds: A Sasha McCandless Novella (2 page)

So here they
were, six months later. They’d rented the entire resort for the week between
Christmas and New Year’s Day and had set the wedding itself for New Year’s Eve.
She and Connelly would start the new year as newlyweds.

“Just in a hurry
to get to the honeymoon, aren’t ya’?” Maisy waggled her eyebrows at Sasha.

“Oh, please.
You’re one to talk, corrupting my sisters-in-law with your extensive knowledge
of rubbers.”

Maisy tossed her
head back, closed her impossibly blue eyes, and gave a loud, throaty laugh.

“Knowledge
that’s goin’ to waste around here, sadly. I shoulda brought a date. Who’m I
gonna kiss at midnight tomorrow?”

Sasha arched a
brow and considered the blonde bombshell beside her.

“I suspect
you’ll find someone.”

Maisy opened her
bow-shaped mouth to respond but swallowed her retort, when the door opened and
Charlotte popped her head back into the room.

“Show time,
ladies.”

Someone who
sounded suspiciously like Naya squealed, and Maisy squeezed Sasha’s arm. Jordan
and Riley were both grinning.

“It’s just the
rehearsal, you guys,” Sasha said, pretending that her stomach hadn’t just done
a full somersault and ignoring the fact that her legs were suddenly
none-too-steady.

Charlotte gave
her a gentle, knowing smile, pulled the door wide open, and ushered them out
into the quiet hallway.

CHAPTER TWO

Leo stood under the bower formed by lush
tropical rainforest foliage and tried not to fidget. Daniel was murmuring
encouragement to Chris, who sat at the piano, his fingers poised to begin
playing as soon as Charlotte gave him the cue. Behind him, the first streaks of
pink-orange sun sunk into the sea, and, on cue, hundreds of twinkling white fairy
lights flickered to life.

He turned his
head to sneak a glance at his groomsmen. His future brothers-in-law were joking
about something in whispered laughter; Manny Ortiz stood at attention with his
eyes straight ahead, like he was back in boot camp; and, at the end of the
line, Bodhi appeared to be meditating, with his palms pressed together and a
beatific smile creasing his face.

The lifestyle
down here seemed to agree with Bodhi, Leo thought. When the forensic
pathologist had left Pittsburgh over the summer, he’d been at loose ends. But
after two seasons volunteering on a sustainable farm just over the border in
Costa Rica, Bodhi seemed to be recentered and recharged.

Charlotte
emerged from behind the gazebo that housed the piano and stage-whispered, “Are
we ready, Father?”

Padre Alexander
looked up and nodded.

Leo still
couldn’t quite believe their luck in having found the former Jesuit priest in a
neighboring town. When Sasha had explained to Charlotte that she was a lapsed
Catholic with a large, religious family, Charlotte had nearly shrieked with
delight and promised she had the perfect person to officiate their
wedding—someone Sasha and Leo would love and the McCandless clan would respect
and trust. Padre Alexander had fit the bill. The Church had sent him fresh out
of the seminary to the hinterlands of Central America to save souls and build a
congregation. But when he’d looked around at the squalor and desperate poverty
that filled the villages he visited, he’d traded his collar for a pair of work gloves,
gotten out of the salvation business and into the social justice business, and
had spent twenty-odd years building schools, clinics, and homes instead of a
congregation of devout Catholics. He was as Christ-like as anyone Leo had ever
met—right down to the leather sandals and shoulder-length hair. Leo felt loved
and blessed in the man’s presence. And Leo was half-convinced Sasha had
developed a medium-sized crush on the former priest. He figured he needed to
hurry up and marry her before she took off with the guy.

The wedding
coordinator tapped Chris’s shoulder then turned and gestured to someone who was
out of Leo’s line of sight.

Chris began to
play. As the familiar strains of “Canon in D” wafted on the sea salt-scented
air, Leo’s stomach flipped.

This was it.

Well, almost it.
Nearly it. The next time he heard this song this would all be real, and he
would be marrying Sasha. As in, spending the rest of his life as her husband.

Riley appeared
from behind a tall, red veranera bush, her green eyes smiling, and walked in
that slow, distinctive
step, pause, step, pause
stride unique to
bridesmaids and toddlers learning to climb stairs.

When she reached
the first silk-ribboned row of chairs, Jordan appeared behind her, clasping her
imaginary bouquet at hip level and started down the aisle behind her
sister-in-law.

Maisy’s tangle
of blonde curls bounced into view. She sashayed along behind the others as only
Maisy could and fell into line in front of the bower.

Whether by
design or a quirk of composition, as Naya took her first step, the music
crescendoed and swelled with drama. She didn’t seem to notice. Her eyes were
fixed forward, and she walked down the aisle with all the pomp and circumstance
that a maid of honor could carry.

As the song
ended, Riley and Jordan both sought out their husbands’ eyes to share a private
moment—recalling their own weddings, Leo imagined.

Then the four
assembled women turned en mass toward the back of the space. Chris played the
opening bars of “Ode to Joy” and caught Leo’s eye long enough to throw him a
wink.

Sasha smiled at
her father and then started down the path on his arm, her silky dress floating
along on the breeze.

His future
father-in-law handed her off and moved to a seat. Even though this was just the
rehearsal, Leo’s heart began to thump as he looked down at Sasha, so full of
joy and energy that she was barely able to stay still beside him.

“Hi,” she said,
grinning and bouncing on her toes.

“Hi, yourself,”
he managed around the lump that had suddenly materialized in his throat.

The music
stopped, and the hammering of his heart slowed as Padre Alexander raised his
hands, allowed a smile to blossom across his face, and said, “Okay, gang. Let’s
run through this one time.”

The next fifteen
minutes were an anticlimactic blur.

Padre Alexander
and Charlotte blocked the wedding as if it were a play. Sasha’s partner, Will,
and Leo’s former coworker, Hank rehearsed their readings.

When it came
time to recite their marriage vows, the former priest said, “So, this is where
you’ll say your vows. We can run through those if you want, but I don’t want
you to share the homework I assigned each of you. That’s to be a gift for your
spouse tomorrow.”

Leo caught
Sasha’s eye and smiled.

She arched a
brow at him and tried to hide her own smile.

He almost
couldn’t believe that this nose-breaking, danger-courting, spitfire had,
somehow, tumbled into his life or that, in less than twenty-four hours, they’d
be beginning
their
shared life together. He blinked back emotions that
threatened to overtake him and turned to Padre Alexander.

“I think we’re
good on the vows, but we may need to practice the kiss, Father.”

Sasha shot him
an electric grin. “Definitely.”

The former
Jesuit spread his palms wide. “You lovebirds will have to do that on your own
time. I understand there’s a dinner party starting soon.”

CHAPTER THREE

From her vantage point at the front of
the ballroom, Sasha smiled out at the laughing, drinking friends and relatives
who ringed the room, mingling and nibbling on hors d’oeuvres. The wall of
floor-to-ceiling windows that faced the ocean had been opened to let in the
warm night breeze.  The buzz of happy voices filled the space, and the
candles that adorned the tables cast a hazy glow. She felt warm and, possibly,
slightly tipsy.

She nestled into
Connelly’s side and sipped her wine.

“What are you
thinking?” His warm breath tickled her ear.

“How lucky we
are to be so loved that all these people wanted to spend their Christmas
vacations with us.”

“We are lucky,”
he agreed, pulling her closer. He nuzzled her neck.

“Get a room,
already,” came a voice from behind them.

She turned and
looked up into her brother Ryan’s laughing green eyes.

“Har har,” she
fake-laughed.

“So, uh, listen,
when are we doing toasts?” he asked, suddenly businesslike.

“We’re doing
toasts?”

Ryan’s ability
to stay serious lasted about thirty seconds, as usual, and he jabbed her in the
arm. “Come on, Sasha, loosen up. I’m not going to spill all your childhood
secrets to Leo—just the most embarrassing ones.”

She narrowed her
eyes. “Just remember, I can kill you with my bare hands.”

“Just
you
remember, I named you guardian of the kids. If I die, Riley will be so broken
up with grief, she’ll probably be unable to care for the them. Instant family
for the newlyweds! Good luck with potty training.”

“There’s no set
agenda for the night,” Connelly said before the sibling ribbing could go any
further. “So, if you feel moved to make a toast, have at it.”

Ryan clapped his
hands together, cutting through the din of laughter and conversation. Heads
turned toward them. He cleared his throat.

“Everyone,” he
said in an awkwardly formal tone, “if you could take your seats, dinner will be
served shortly. And, I thought we could start toasting the happy couple and get
that out of the way early, so we can party!” He’d started stiffly, but Sasha
thought he’d warmed up nicely and ended on a natural note.

The rehearsal
dinner really
was
a party, by design. Sasha and Connelly had decided
that if people were going to fly several thousand miles during the holidays to
attend their wedding, they should make it a trip to remember.

So far, so good.

The room quieted
as people found their tables. A white-jacketed waiter motioned toward the door,
and soft instrumental music began to play, piped into the room by an unseen
sound system.

Ryan raised his
glass and turned toward Sasha and Connelly.

“Leo, we always
knew it would take a special person to tame our little sister.” He glanced at
Sean, who guffawed his agreement.

Sasha rolled her
eyes at her brothers’ antics.

Ryan continued,
“And for a long time, we thought she’d never find the right guy—someone who could
handle her strength and her sharp wit. But, you’ve done okay. I mean she only
had to break your nose that one time.”

He waited for
the laughter to die down and then said, “It’s clear you love her, and she loves
you. I know I speak for Sean, too, when I say, it will be great to have you as
a brother.”

He cleared his
throat and took a long swallow of his drink.

Sasha blinked
down at her plate at the memory Ryan’s words dredged up—thoughts of their dead
brother Patrick, who hadn’t lived to see any of his younger siblings get
married. Connelly seemed to sense what she was thinking. He leaned over and
stroked her hair, tucking a tendril behind her ear.

Ryan’s speech
was followed by a sweet and sassy toast from Maisy; a plain old sassy toast
from Naya; a beautifully recited poem from Khalil Gabran’s
The Prophet
from Bodhi; and a heartfelt wish for their future from Hank. At that point,
Sasha’s dad rescued the party by suggesting they take a break from the speeches
and eat before the food got cold.

Sasha threw him
a grateful look and lifted her fork.

But before she
could take the first bite of her perfectly pink steak, Charlotte materialized
at her elbow.

“I’m so sorry to
interrupt your meal, but Marisole would like to do a final fitting of your
gown.”

“Now?”

“I’m afraid so.
It’s getting quite late.” Charlotte checked the bracelet-style watch that hung
on her wrist. “It’s after eight o’clock.”

Connelly
wrinkled his forehead. “Can’t we eat first? You can do this dress thing after
dessert, before they start up with the toasts again.”

“It shouldn’t
take long at all. The dress fits beautifully, but Marisole is a perfectionist.
And your mother happened to mention that you’re looking a little thin, so we
just want to check one last time.” Charlotte threw Sasha a look that said
just
cooperate
.