Four Weddings and a Fireman (32 page)

Cherie, hanging back, marveled at how calm and cool he seemed. He was a total natural in front of the camera.

“You're certainly the hero of the hour, but apparently there's a heroine too. Is it true your disabled mother called 911 from her wheelchair?”

“That's right. Virginia Brown is my mom, and my personal hero.” Was he choking up? The cameras all seemed to zoom in a little closer. “I knew she'd know what to do. Since I can't always be with her, we do safety drills back at home. It's important to be prepared for any emergency. Even if you don't have a fireman at home”—­he winked—­“you can do a lot to protect yourself.”

Honestly, it was as if someone had scripted it for him. And that wink . . . Cherie could just imagine all the females in the Las Vegas viewing area going gaga.

A female reporter with shellacked blond hair stepped forward. “My producer just informed me that you are one of the famous Bachelor Firemen. Is there a reason you're here at the Chappelle de l'Amour? Something you'd like to share exclusively with our viewers?”

“Well . . .”

Vader turned toward Cherie and raised his eyebrows in a question as clear as if he'd spoken it aloud. She beamed back at him with all the love she never wanted to hide again. He grinned, then began to sink onto one knee.

“No!” she burst out. “Stop, Vader. Don't.”

He straightened up and shoved his hands into his pockets. The slope of his shoulders, the tension of his jaw, the wariness in his eyes just about killed her. Quickly, she went on. “I know this is a wedding environment and you can't ever resist those. But it's my turn.”

His quickly indrawn breath echoed through the suddenly still chapel. She stepped forward and drew his hands from his pockets, clasping them between hers. Those broad, strong, blunt-­fingered hands had always made her weak in the knees.

Okay, so doing this in front of a television audience wouldn't be her first choice, but as a firefighter's wife, she'd have to respond to all sorts of crazy situations.

“Derek ‘Vader' Brown,” she said in a low voice. The camera ­people stepped closer. “I love you more than you could ever imagine.” She searched for romantic words that would convey what was in her heart. “You're the sunshine I want to wake up to. You're the earth under my feet.” Wait, that didn't sound right at all. The cameras were throwing her off. “What I mean is, with you, everything makes sense. Except me, I guess I'm not making much sense.” She drew in a deep breath, almost hoping a reporter or someone might interrupt, but no one breathed a word. Vader's rough-­hewn face gave nothing away. “You're like a . . . an element. Earth, fire, water, and Vader. It's like the planet would be unlivable without you.” Okay, now she was getting into some kind of environmental speech. She stumbled onward. “At least my planet would. If you let me, and if you'll forget the dopiest proposal ever made, I'll spend the rest of my life loving you, taking care of you.” Maybe she could salvage things with a lighter touch. “Save the planet, Vader. Will you marry me?”

She stopped talking and pressed one hand to her hot cheek. Was it possible for an entire body to feel embarrassed? Because hers was flushed from head to toe. But it didn't matter. None of it mattered, not the fact that Trixie was jumping up and down next to her, or the fact that one of the camera ­people was muttering, “And we're here live at the Chappelle de l'Amour . . .” or the fact that even the grinning bomb squad had stopped to watch. The only thing that mattered was Vader.

“I love you,” she whispered. “Please be my husband, and I'll be your wife and love you and cherish you every day until death do us part.”

The officiant chose that moment to butt his head between them. “That part's my line. And the Chappelle de l'Amour would be delighted to waive all wedding fees as a gesture of thanks for the groom's courageous actions today.”

Vader put out a hand and, gently but firmly, pushed the officiant out of their line of vision. Impassive no longer, the look on his face sent starbursts of excitement through her system.

“No,” he said.

Before the shock could register, he caught her up in his arms. “I mean, yes, I'll marry you. But not here, no offense to the Chappelle. After all it took to get you to fall for me, I want to make this wedding count. I want to get married back in San Gabriel.”

In one fell swoop, her world righted itself. Giddy with joy, she clung to his shoulders. “I fell for you that first night,” she told him. “You know I did.”

He smiled down at her, those warm, lit-­from-­within eyes infusing her with a feeling of rightness. “Yeah. I know. Everyone thought I was being dense. But I'm smarter than they think. I knew all along this day would come.” With a glance at the chaotic scene around them, he added, “I gotta say, I didn't picture it like this though.” He gestured to Jacob and Robbie. “Hey guys, the Chappelle is offering up a free wedding. Know anyone who might be interested?”

Jacob went bright pink, then white. Robbie, who was pressed about as close to Jacob as Cherie was to Vader, whispered something in Jacob's ear. The waves of color kept coming and going, until her brother, red as a strawberry, said, “We would. Yes. We'd like to get married.”

“Can you do it?” Vader asked the officiant.

“We'll need a properly notarized marriage license from a state that recognizes same-­sex marriage, but yes. Of course we can do it. What date works for you?” Huddling with Jacob and Robbie, the officiant whipped out an iPhone and began tapping.

Still holding Cherie in his arms, Vader turned his back on the cameras and walked her a few feet away, where they could be marginally more private.

“How does four months from today sound?” Vader said, brushing his lips against hers. “Does that give us time to make our wedding as beautiful as you are?”

“Sure. I'll see if I can find a henhouse that hasn't been booked yet.” And with that little joke, she knew she'd left the past behind, for real this time.

Lights flashing, Engine
1 pulled into the parking lot of San Gabriel Fire Station 1. Strangely enough, Double D, the engineer, wore a tuxedo. He braked the engine to a stop and climbed out, joining the crowd of onlookers. He tweaked his white bow tie into a perfect line.

A tone sounded and a female voice spoke over the intercom. “Ladies and gentlemen, firefighters and guests, please welcome our bride and groom, Cherie Harper and Vader Brown.”

Fred, wearing a black blazer over jeans, marched to the engine's door and opened it with a flourish.

Vader, an awe-­inspiring sight in his black, swallow-­tailed tuxedo, stepped out. He gave the crowd an incandescent smile, then turned back to his bride. He lifted Cherie as if she were crafted of swan's down and set her on the pavement, where she stood in a floating cloud of purest cream. A sigh fluttered through the group and everyone applauded.

Cherie had worked for months on her dress—­four months, to be exact. Its filmy layers of dreamlike chiffon were adorned with little pink flowers lifted from a vintage cashmere sweater. Its tight bodice had made Vader's eyes go bright as flares when she'd first stepped into the fire engine.

Trixie had loaned her a bracelet of sweetgrass from home. The wistful scent brought to mind her father, who'd called from the feed store with something almost resembling an apology. He'd wished her well in her marriage; it was enough.

Ginny Brown had gifted her with a glass hair ornament shaped like a blue butterfly. It sat above her ear, keeping Trixie's masterpiece of an updo in place. Trixie had been studying wedding hairstyles for weeks, and had come up with something ridiculously elaborate that had taken her all morning to accomplish.

Cherie was too happy to mind. Trixie could have shaved her head and painted “Marry me” on her scalp and she would have been delighted.

Fred, with a solemn accompaniment from Mulligan on bagpipes, shepherded the guests toward the rows of folding chairs on the lawn behind the station. Everyone except Vader and Cherie trooped that direction. The bride and groom were supposed to wait until everyone was seated so they could proceed down the aisle between the chairs. At the last minute, Danielle remembered that she was the flower girl, and ran to Cherie's side.

Fire station weddings didn't happen very often—­Station 1 had never hosted one—­but since Vader had just earned his promotion, acing the “three whole score” interview, with the entire Las Vegas police force vouching for his leadership qualities, Chief Renteria had made an exception.

Captain Brody took his place under the “arch,” as everyone had been calling it. The guys had made the structure out of PVC pipe, and a few of Cherie's tango students had volunteered to decorate it with lilies and white-­petaled hydrangea. The captain wore a nice black suit and looked extremely handsome. But Cherie couldn't tear her eyes away from Vader, her strong, loyal, stubborn ram of a husband-­to-­be.

Before she wheeled to her position in the front row, Ginny Brown twitched a wrinkle out of Cherie's dress. Even Vader hadn't required as much proof of her love as Ginny had. But over the past few months, Cherie had won her over with much baking and yarn rolling and baring of her heart.

“Do you know, hon, I think my feng shui worked after all,” Ginny whispered. “If I hadn't set the house on fire, we might not be here right now.”

Cherie stifled a laugh in her bouquet. Ginny winked and rolled down the aisle to her spot.

Trixie, as maid of honor, already stood on one side of the arch, holding a simple bouquet of lilies with a trailing pink ribbon. Joe the Toe towered on the other side. Vader had been torn between Joe and Fred, until Fred had obligingly volunteered to be a sort of master of ceremonies instead.

Brody cleared his throat, signaling the beginning of the ceremony. “Welcome to the wedding of Derek Brown and Chastisement Harper, known to those who love them as Vader and Cherie.” Brody looked down at the pages he held in his hands. “Before we start, I'd like to add my own personal thoughts about this wedding.”

Cherie's eyes widened. Brody was going off the planned script.

“I've learned a few things about love in the last ­couple years.” Everyone glanced at Melissa, his wife, who cradled their new baby boy in her arms. She beamed back at the crowd. From what Cherie could tell, she pretty much alternated between beaming and sleeping these days.

Brody continued. “I've been humbled many times by love. I've had my eyes opened, I've had the sense knocked out of me. Some ­people say this firehouse is cursed. That every time one of us falls in love, it's like stepping onto a roller coaster. I'm not going to disagree with that. But I'm here to tell you that it's not a curse. It's a blessing. It makes us recognize true love when we see it shining in front of us, the way we do with our brother Vader and his beloved Cherie. It's a true honor and joy to be part of this moment in their lives.”

Cherie's eyes hazed over. Oh no, this was her worst fear. She'd lectured herself on the ride from her house.
Don't cry, don't cry
. But the tears insisted on slipping down her cheeks, and she decided to let them.

Fred beckoned to Danielle, who skipped down the aisle, tossing rose petals with wild abandon, as if they were confetti. White and pink fluttered through the air, falling on upturned faces and suit jacket sleeves.

Even though Cherie laughed along with everyone else, her tears didn't stop. As she and Vader walked hand in hand down the aisle, she knew ­people noticed her face was wet. She made sure they also saw her brilliant smile.
No more fears. Only love.

When she and Vader had taken their places and faced each other, Ryan Blake got to his feet and read the Firefighter's Prayer, which Vader had selected as the opening prayer. “
When I am called to duty, God, whenever flames may rage. Give me strength to save a life, whatever be its age. Help me embrace a little child before it is too late. Or save an older person from the horror of that fate . . .”

And here came another hot trail of tears down her face. The moving words, the solemn silence, the occasional chatter of voices from the B shift still at work inside the station, the gentle scent of lilies blessing the air with their essence . . . she'd never forget this moment, and how it felt to be standing up before the world revealing her love for the man across from her.

The tears kept coming, off and on, throughout the simple ceremony. But they didn't keep her from saying the most important word of her life, “Yes.”

Yes to love, yes to life, yes to Vader. Such a simple word, “yes,” but it could change your whole life. Vader said it too, with an expression of bone-­deep seriousness. She wondered how many of his fire crew had seen him like this before, his devotion and commitment so clear, not a hint of playfulness to be seen. She loved him to the core, through all the different layers of heat and fun and rock-­solid loyalty.

Joe the Toe reached into his pocket and pulled out a vintage square-­cut diamond ring in a rose-­gold setting. Vader had combed through San Gabriel's shops until he found something he thought suited her. He'd been a hundred percent right. Trixie extracted Vader's ring from the little bag attached to her wrist. Cherie had designed it herself, with three interlocking bands: gold for permanence, copper for good luck, and iron for protection. She'd poured many prayers into that ring; she was counting on it to keep him safe. That—­and the firefighters here today, every one of whom she trusted with her heart's life.

When Captain Brody declared them man and wife, an expression of such tender emotion came over Vader's face that Cherie started crying again. Ginny rang the ceremonial fire bell, and amid its solemn, joyful tones, he drew her toward him and kissed each tear away.

“I'm so happy,” she sobbed, worried he might think the wrong thing. “I'm crying because I'm happy,” she called to the guests, who were rising to their feet. “I always cry when I'm happy.”