Baby, I’m Yours (6 page)

“Who gives this woman to be married to this man?”

Walter Moon stepped forward and passed his glance over them, then announced, “I do.” He gave Shelby a kiss, then shook Emory’s hand.

Emory acknowledged the man’s gesture with a solemn nod. Walter Moon had been the last person out of the grocery basement, and the first thing he’d said to Emory was that he had his blessing to marry his daughter, that he’d heard the things Emory had said when he was digging them out, and knew Shelby would be in good hands.

“Do you, Emory, take Shelby to be your lawful y wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward?”

“I do,” he said, never more sure of anything in his life. He was wearing his dress uniform, cleaned and pressed to passable inspection by a handful of helpful ladies who wanted to contribute something to the ceremony. Shelby carried a bouquet of wildflowers that someone else had gathered at the last minute.

“Do you, Shelby, take Emory to be your lawful y wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward?”

“I do,” she said, beaming.

“Please repeat after me,” the minister charged. They said their vows, with the sound of birds singing in the background. Nature would recover first, as was always the case.

“And do you have rings?”

The engagement ring, thankful y, had remained safe in his coat pocket in the SUV. But there hadn’t been time to get wedding rings, nor a place to buy them. The storefront of the town jeweler had been laid to waste like everything else. Rings would have to wait. Emory opened his mouth to say no.

“Yes, the couple has rings,” announced the mayor, who held up a box. He stepped out of the crowd and walked forward, then stopped before Emory. “We know it was you who sounded the sirens, Emory. The townspeople would like to thank you with the gift of these wedding bands.” He opened the box to reveal two gleaming gold bands.

Emory was moved and swal owed hard. He didn’t know where the man had found the rings, but he was very grateful. “Thank you, mayor,” he said, then turned to the crowd.

“Thank you, everyone. Wherever Shelby and I go, we’l always have this piece of Sweetness with us.”

As the minister recited the words for the ring exchange, Emory slipped the band on Shelby’s finger, and accepted the matching band from her. He was fil ed with love for this woman, and for this place that would always be a part of them.

“Emory, you may kiss your bride.”

He needed no further urging. He swept Shelby into his arms and put his mouth on hers for a slow, sweet kiss. His body tingled from her touch, and from the promise of their wedding night before them…and every night to come. His heart pounded against hers. It was impossible for any man to be happier than he was at this moment.

When the reverend cleared his throat discreetly, Emory dragged himself away from his bride to the tune of laughter from the guests.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the minister said, “may I present to you Mr. and Mrs. Emory Maxwel .”

Cheers arose and although Emory knew that everyone was happy for him and Shelby, he knew they were celebrating so much more than just a union. He was pleased that they could give the guests a joyous note to leave on.

As the crowd dispersed, Emory stood aside while Shelby was swept up in a gaggle of wel -wishing women. She threw the bouquet and it fel into the glad hands of a young girl who had been in the grocery basement with Shelby after the storm.

Porter slung his arm around Emory’s shoulder. “Hel of a week, huh?”

“I’l say.”

“I talked to Marcus and Kendal this morning on a satel ite phone. They said to give you their best, and their thanks for what you did for the town.”

Emory gave him a rueful smile. “That’s real y nice of them…but the town is gone.”

“For now,” Porter said. “But mark my words—it’l be rebuilt someday, and when it is, we’l have a reunion.”

Emory smiled. “I look forward to that day.”

Porter nodded to Shelby. “You’d better claim your wife and get out of here.”

He grinned. “Don’t mind if I do.”

The men shook hands, then gave each other an impulsive hug.

Emory found his father and said goodbye with the promise to cal soon. Then he made his way through the crowd around Shelby and clasped her hand. “Mrs. Maxwel , it’s time to go.” He lowered his mouth to her ear. “I can’t wait to get you to that hotel room in Atlanta and…wel , you know.”

Shelby blushed as she dimpled. “Let me say goodbye to Daddy.”

He gave father and daughter a private moment of goodbye before walking up to Walter Moon to shake his hand. He pretended not to notice the shimmer of tears in the older man’s eyes.

Then he and Shelby ran through a gauntlet of friends and neighbors who threw birdseed salvaged from the remains of the local feed store. Their SUV had been decorated with streamers and cans and shoes tied to the rear bumper. They drove off, waving and honking. It had been the most perfect ceremony, better than he’d imagined, magnified by what they’d nearly lost.

“I can’t believe you’re mine,” Emory said, squeezing her hand.

She smiled, her eyes shining with love. “Believe it, baby…I’m yours…al yours. There’s no place I’d rather be than with you.”

They drove out of their mountain hometown on the road stil littered with massive trees that had been sawed and cleared to al ow vehicles to pass. The sign for the mercantile stil stood, announcing a business that no longer existed. The covered bridge over Trimble Creek was gone, too, blown to God only knew where. He remembered the bittersweet pangs of being pul ed back to this place and felt guilty that he’d nursed resentment toward Sweetness.

It had made him who he was today.

Emory looked in the rearview mirror at the one remaining landmark of Sweetness, the soaring white water tower, and marveled at the role it had played in his life and in the lives of the residents it guarded.

“Goodbye, Sweetness,” Emory murmured to himself. “May you thrive again someday.”

If you fell in love with the people of Sweetness, Georgia, don’t miss the
SOUTHERN ROADS
trilogy, the story of the Armstrong brothers who return to rebuild the mountain town of
Sweetness—with the help of a group of northern women recruited from a newspaper ad! (Hint: Porter, the confirmed bachelor, is the first Armstrong to fall!)
Coming this summer from Mira Books:

BABY, DRIVE SOUTH

BABY, COME HOME

BABY, DON’T GO

ISBN: 978-1-4592-0412-6

Baby, I’m Yours

Copyright © 2011 by Stephanie Bond, Inc.

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