The Marriage Wish (20 page)

It was tradition in the neighborhood to go Christmas caroling on Christmas Eve, and as twilight came the adults began sorting out coats and gloves. All the kids wanted to
go. Neighbors would have hot cider and cookies for the carolers. “Can I ride on your shoulders, Uncle Scott?” Amy asked, tugging at his hand.

“I’m staying here with Jennifer,” he replied, and Jennifer saw the disappointment on the little girl’s face.

“Go with them, Scott. There’s no need for you to stay simply because I’m getting over a bad cold.”

“I think the doctor called it pneumonia,” he reminded her.

“Mom, aren’t you coming?” Greg also looked disappointed.

“Mary Elizabeth is asleep upstairs. I need to stay here,” Heather told her son.

They were the only two holdouts, everyone else, including Peter and Rachel were going. “Listen, both of you, go with the kids. I can listen for Mary Elizabeth. She’s only been asleep half an hour. She’ll never know you were gone,” Jennifer insisted. She could see that this was a long-standing tradition, and she knew how much fun it was to go caroling.

“Jen, are you sure?” Heather asked.

“Positive.”

She looked at Scott. He reluctantly removed his arm and got up, leaned back down to kiss her. “I was hoping for thirty minutes on our own,” he whispered, and she laughed.

She saw everyone off, watched as they joined up with neighbors who were also out to go caroling. She closed the door with a laugh as Quigley tried to sneak through. “No, you don’t, friend. You get to keep me company. Tiffany will be back in an hour.”

The house was silent with everyone gone. The massive Christmas tree blinked its colored lights, the smell of greenery wonderful. It had been such a beautiful day.

Jennifer went over to the baby monitor and made sure it was turned all the way up. She sat on the couch and played tug of war with Quigley using an old rag someone had
found for him. He grew tired of the game after about ten minutes, and Jennifer let him run again. He was going to eventually be one very tired puppy. Smiling, she picked up the glasses and dishes around on the tables and carried them into the kitchen, loading the dishwasher.

Twenty minutes and she had heard nothing from Mary Elizabeth. Jen knew what was driving her desire to check on the infant but went, anyway. She walked up the stairs with Quigley underfoot, quietly pushed open the door of the guest room where Margaret had a crib set up. The baby was sleeping peacefully. Jen watched her breathe, reached out very gently to touch the softness of her little hand. She was so beautiful. So big. So healthy. Jennifer watched her and smiled, quietly left the room.

The kids would be cold when they got back. Finding that Margaret had set out all the ingredients for hot chocolate, Jennifer read her recipe and set to work. She tasted the drink as it heated and knew she was going to have to get a copy. The recipe had a pinch of Dutch chocolate in it. It was delicious.

Quigley yelped. Jennifer tilted her head, trying to figure out where it had come from, but it was not repeated. Not liking the fact he hadn’t come bolting back into the kitchen after encountering another dust ball surprise, Jennifer carefully turned down the flame under the large pan heating the hot chocolate and set aside the long spoon. “Quigley? Where are you, boy?”

Jennifer walked through the living room, expecting to find him stuck under one of the couches. The flicker of orange caught the corner of her eye, and she turned. She froze. Flames were licking up the back of the Christmas tree. Smoke was beginning to billow up and fill the stairwell.
The fire alarm went off just as she understood what was happening. The tree was big and dry, and the flames were engulfing it so quickly.

The baby. Quigley, who must be beneath the tree, she had to leave to fend for himself. There wasn’t time to call for help. There was only one way upstairs and it would soon be impassable. Covering her nose and mouth with her hands, Jen plowed through the smoke accumulating on the landing and made it to the upper hallway. The smoke was only beginning to collect here. It was still filling into the skylight.

Mary Elizabeth was crying at the piercing noise of the alarm. Jen gathered the infant and all her blankets together, tried to not let her own terror make her hold the baby too tightly. She lightly covered the baby’s face with the edge of a blanket to protect her from the smoke. She was not losing another baby. She would claw death in the face before she would let that happen.

The hallway was filling with smoke as she exited the guest room. She kept her head low. She could hear Quigley now, barking in a panic from somewhere downstairs, and she felt the relief. She loved that puppy.

“Hold on, Mary Elizabeth, it’s time to see what our exit looks like,” Jen told the child, trying to keep low to keep the screaming infant from breathing in smoke. Jen could feel it already burning her eyes and making her stressed lungs choke. She turned the corner and felt the intense heat hit her. The blue spruce was totally engulfed. The edges of the stairway carpet were on fire, and she couldn’t see to the bottom of the stairs, the smoke was so thick.

Jen ducked back away from the corner and the heat, choking on the smoke.

There was no other way off this floor but a window. It was the smoke that would kill them. Mary Elizabeth
wouldn’t be able to survive even a couple of breaths of this acidic smoke. She couldn’t drop her from a second floor window. Knowing her options were limited, Jennifer rushed toward the nearest bedroom. There was not a single person on the street. She grabbed the blanket off the foot of the bed and ran to the bathroom. The shower drenched it in seconds and Jennifer didn’t waste time shutting the water off. She heard glass shatter. The fire had burst thru the skylight.

The flames now had a vent, and while the air fed the flames, it actually gave Jennifer one great big break. The smoke rushed up, the skylight becoming a large chimney. For the first time she got a look at the entire stairwell. None of the stairs had collapsed, the outer wall was still free of fire, the carpet showing itself surprisingly resistant to the dropping embers. It was melting, Jennifer realized, not burning.

“Mary Elizabeth, I love you,” Jen sobbed, kissing the still screaming infant, “please hold your breath.” She had to make the front door.

She wanted to run and could only hurry, forced to take the steps at a pace where she would not trip. She held the baby wrapped in the soaked blanket and turned toward the outer wall. The searing heat on her right came right through the wet blanket and drove her almost to her knees as she tried to slide past the burning tree. She was at the landing, and she could see the front door, near, and yet so many steps away. Her lungs stopped drawing air. The smoke combined with the lingering effects of pneumonia was too much to handle. Quigley was having a fit down below, desperate to reach her.

Mary Elizabeth was going to die in her care. Oh, God, no. Not again. Tears flooded her eyes, and she was choking.

She cleared the final step, whimpering at the pain and the desperate need to breathe, Mary Elizabeth tucked and protected in her arms.

God, please help me.

She didn’t make it to the front door.

“Look, Uncle Scott. Smoke!” Amy tugged his hair to get his attention. She was perched on his shoulders, looking all around. She had actually tugged his head in the direction of the smoke, and Scott couldn’t help but see it.

The girl came tumbling off his shoulders. “Dad, that’s Grandma’s place!”

There were fifteen adults in the caroling party, all neighbors. They were a block to the west of the house. They were seeing the vent of smoke billowing through the skylight.

“Mary Elizabeth!” Heather screamed.

Frank, Scott and Peter made the block at a dead run, cutting through flower beds and bushes. Flames were coming through the skylight now. There was no sign of Jennifer and the baby. The fire was in the worst part of the house, blocking the stairs, the hallway, all the exits. Scott got to the front door first, scalded his hand on the hot metal only to realize someone must have turned the latch, locking the door when it closed. Frank headed toward the back of the house.

Peter broke out the living room window.

If Jen was upstairs with the baby… Scott forced himself not to think about it. They would never get to them in time. The bedroom window above him blew out, showering them with glass.

Scott followed Peter through the window. The smoke billowing around the room choked him. “There!” Peter screamed to be heard over the deafening roar of the fire. She’d made it past the burning tree and to within touching
distance of the front door. The wallpaper and hallway was totally engulfed in flames, the stairwell was gone. The burning tree was threatening to fall in her direction.

Peter scrambled to yank the burning floor rugs away from her face. “Get them out of there!”

Scott dropped to his knees and dove for her, feeling the heat try to burn him alive.

“Mary Elizabeth!”

“Here,” Scott yelled to Frank. Jen was curled around the infant.

Scott grabbed the two of them and yanked them clear of the leaning tree. Kneeling, he passed the crying infant to her father. Her cries were a wonderful sound.

The sodden blanket had protected Jen’s hair from burning, but she wasn’t moving, and she wasn’t breathing. “Grab her!” Scott yelled, lifting her toward the window. Peter got through and took her weight, and Scott yanked himself through the window after them.

Peter had her on the driveway, the blanket off and the cinders on her clothes stamped out, but he wasn’t getting any air into her lungs. Her blood, no oxygen in it, had turned her skin blue. There was enough medical training present to deal with a trauma victim, but no one could bring the dead back to life.

Scott sat on the cold concrete next to her, held her burned hand and watched his sister do CPR, and Peter trying to get her to breathe, and he started to silently cry.

“H
i, precious.” She would know those blue eyes anywhere. Jennifer held out her arms and Jerry handed her the baby, gurgling and smiling and waving her arms, happy. Colleen hadn’t grown, but her eyes were bright, her small body strong. She grinned and flirted with her Mom, bubbling kisses at her, delighted at the long hair she could tug. Jennifer grinned and offered her necklace instead.

There was fire in the dream now, fire between her and her husband, her child, then they were gone.

Mary Elizabeth. No!

God, I can’t do this. I can’t. Not another child.

“Jennifer!” It was a strong voice that compelled her attention. “You keep fighting, you hear me? Mary Elizabeth is fine. She’s home. Do you hear me? Don’t you dare give up!”

She was not fighting to live. That was the hardest part for Scott to grasp. She’d been on the respirator five days now,
slowly growing worse. But he thought he understood. She had collapsed in a burning house holding a baby, her last conscious thoughts the realization Mary Elizabeth was going to die because she had not made it to the door. Jennifer wouldn’t want to live, knowing that. He told her Mary Elizabeth was fine, over and over again, and she heard him, her hand flinched when he spoke to her, but she only got worse.
Please Jen, don’t do this. Don’t leave.
It was like she didn’t believe him. It began to make him mad.

“Jen, I had Rachel reserve the church this morning, and Mom is sending out the wedding invitations. You’ve got twenty-five days left before your wedding, so I suggest you try fighting this respirator. This give-up attitude is not appreciated.”

If one set of tactics did not work, it was time to try a second. Scott watched her hand flinch, knew she could hear him. She had been hearing him for the last five days, but hadn’t been willing to fight back to consciousness. Her burns had to hurt, her right hand and arm had blistered, but they were all first degree, they would heal with only minor scars. He had told her that, but nothing was getting her to fight.

Her hand twitched and this time slightly turned.

“You have to open your eyes, Jen. You can’t sleep anymore. Open your eyes,” he ordered.

She did. She looked annoyed and she closed them again, but she’d opened her eyes.

Scott laughed around his tears. “Oh, no you don’t. Get back here. Open your eyes.”

They opened again and she blinked at him. It was hard to see a smile around a respirator, but her eyes softened. He gently kissed her forehead. “Mary Elizabeth is fine. You did good, Jen. You did good.”

J
ennifer woke early on Saturday morning, her wedding day, the house quiet and still, though it would change in the next hour as Rachel and Beth arrived. Jennifer listened to the peaceful quiet, her last morning in this house, and smiled. She was going to miss this place. She considered burying her head under the pillows again and letting the next hour drift by, but knew she didn’t really have that luxury. She flexed her stiff right hand, feeling the tightness in the skin around her fingers that still lingered even after the blisters had healed. The stiffness in her skin, the inhalator she used twice a day, were the only remaining marks of the fire. The doctors told her another month would remove even them. After ten days in the hospital she had been ready to get home. She rose, stretched, slipped on her robe and walked through the house to the kitchen to start coffee. The stress in her system was totally gone, and it made her feel like a new person. Fear
had been her companion for three years, and it was gone now. She felt wonderful. Peaceful.

Scott’s parents’ home had been a total loss, but they seemed to be handling it without too much despair. Jennifer hadn’t been back. She didn’t want to see the burnt-out shell, and the wrecking crews had come in ten days later. Margaret in particular had taken the loss calmly. They were people who grasped material things lightly, and when they were taken away, those people were not crushed. The picture albums had actually been at Heather’s that day, and some of their more precious keepsakes from the master bedroom had been recovered. That was all Margaret considered irreplaceable. They were staying with friends in the neighborhood, planning to rebuild in the spring. Scott had offered them his home, and Jennifer had urged them to accept, goodness knew it was spacious enough, but they had declined. Olivia and Jack had been friends for thirty years and their children were grown, Margaret and Larry were more comfortable staying with them, where they could walk to the site and oversee the construction.

Jennifer drank her coffee standing up, looking out over the front lawn, white now from snow that had come down overnight. They had chosen wedding colors to match the winter season. Beth’s and Rachel’s gowns were deep green, Scott’s and Brad’s tuxes were black with deep red accessories; poinsettias would dominate the decorations in the church. Heather, of course, planned to see that the flowers were spectacular. There would be guests, over a hundred had already confirmed, and Heather’s friend Tracy was providing the music. Jennifer knew her dress would look spectacular against such a setting. She had done away with the long train and instead gone for simplicity, choosing a white silk classical gown.

Scott had made the honeymoon plans and given her not a single hint of where they were going, only that they would be gone a week. Even the clothes he had suggested she pack gave her no clue. She walked through the house carrying a fresh cup of coffee. There were gifts to wrap. Jennifer smiled at the thought. She went to her office and picked up the packages. She had gifts for the wedding party, but those were already wrapped. The gifts still to be wrapped were for Scott.

It was a little thing, letting him choose what she wore at night, but it was an important gift. A few of the boxes she wrapped were to make that gift possible. The other gifts, they were simply things that would serve as memories for both of them—a copy of a book Ann had helped her get autographed, a sweater she had found for him, an engraved watch. The gifts were small, but they would make a memory, and that was the reason for them.

The gifts were wrapped and Jennifer was putting the final touches to what was packed in her suitcase when Rachel and Beth arrived. Her friends carried breakfast with them, and their excitement made Jennifer smile. Jennifer sat at the kitchen table with them, sharing a raspberry danish and listening as her two friends went through the details for the day. Jennifer put herself in their capable hands—her hair was brushed silky smooth, her makeup was done with an expert hand. When they arrived at the church her dress and veil had been laid out in the dressing room, a room filled with a profusion of flowers from Scott.

She dressed quietly, smiling at the excitement around her. Margaret was going to be a wonderful mother-in-law. She had brought the bouquet of flowers Jennifer would carry. The children were in and out of the room. Both Tiffany and Amy were going to carry flowers down the aisle, and all of
the boys, Greg, Tom and Alexander were recruited to help Scott. Jennifer knew at the reception she would be meeting much of Scott’s extended family, and she took a deep breath as she left the dressing room, escorted by Rachel and Beth. “They are seating the family,” Peter told her as she joined him at the top of the stairs. He smiled at his wife. “Two minutes,” he told them. “Are you nervous?” he asked, offering Jennifer his arm. He was going to give her away.

“I’ll be fine once I’m down the aisle,” she replied. “The church is full?”

Peter smiled. “Yes. Scott looks calm on the outside, but it’s covering one very nervous guy. He was pacing earlier, when he thought he was alone.”

The doors to the auditorium were opened, and the music began. It was time. The girls went first, followed by the bridesmaids, then Peter squeezed her hand and Jennifer was walking into the church on the arm of her brother. The flowers in the church were overflowing with color and fragrance, Heather had outdone herself. She could see Scott standing at the front of the church with Brad at his side. He looked so dignified: tall, strong and confident. As she caught his gaze he smiled, and she saw him start to relax. She smiled back.

When she reached the front of the aisle, Scott took her hand in his, and Jennifer relaxed, finally, where she felt safe and protected. His grip was firm and strong and confident.

She listened to the service, and when the time came to exchange vows, she placed both of her hands in Scott’s and faced him, enough love for a lifetime shining in her eyes.

“Jennifer St. James, do you take Scott Williams to be your lawfully wedded husband, to love, honor and cherish, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, till death do you part?”

“I do,” she answered, smiling at the man who was to be her husband.

“And do you, Scott Williams, take Jennifer St. James to be your lawfully wedded wife, to love, honor and cherish, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, till death do you part?”

“I do,” Scott replied with conviction, smiling at Jennifer.

She gently squeezed his hands.

Brad handed Scott Jennifer’s wedding ring, and he smiled and kissed the back of her hand before sliding it on her finger. Jennifer accepted his from Rachel. Her hands trembled as she slipped it on his finger, annoying her, but making him smile and softly whisper, “I love you,” as they turned to face the front of the church again. She looked up at him and grinned. “Did Peter tell you I almost fainted at my first wedding?” she whispered.

“Now you tell me,” Scott replied in a whisper, amused. “No wonder he said Brad had smelling salts in his pocket. I thought they were for me.” He still held her hand, determined not to release it again, now that the service was almost over. They lit the large candle on the table, shared communion, then Rachel was handing Jennifer back her bouquet, and the minister was turning to the congregation. “Ladies and gentleman, may I present Mr. and Mrs. Williams,” the minister said with a smile. “Scott, you may kiss your bride.”

Scott took his time, amusing Jennifer, who stood patiently as he smoothed back her short veil, linked his left hand with hers, gently tipped her chin up with his right hand and lowered his head to share their first kiss as husband and wife. He was smiling, a deeply satisfied smile, and it made her smile in return.

They walked down the aisle holding hands, Jennifer very content to leave the details now to Scott.

“Doing okay?” Scott leaned over to ask, taking advantage of a slight break in the guests coming through the reception line.

“Yes,” Jennifer told her husband, loving the word
husband.
“My hand’s taking a beating with all the handshakes, but I’ll make it.”

“Pain?”

He would get her out of the line if she so much as hinted at pain. Jennifer could tolerate it. “No, just annoyingly stiff.”

“Does that mean your pool game might be a little off?” he asked with a grin.

“Don’t count on it,” she replied.

Jennifer enjoyed the reception, mingling with Scott’s family, her husband never far from her side. He was a dashing figure in his tux, and she loved watching him. It seemed to be mutual, because he had her blushing more than she could remember doing in recent months. Everyone wanted to ask about the fire, and she found herself trying to keep the details to a minimum. Heather, who now considered Jen second only to an angel, gave her a happy Mary Elizabeth to flirt with for the pictures everyone requested.

Scott maneuvered her to the back of the reception hall. “Let’s slip away and get changed. If it fits, wear the outfit I had Rachel put in the dressing room for you. I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

“We’ll miss the rice.”

“Not with Tiffany and Greg around, but I figure it’s worth a shot,” he replied with a chuckle, kissing her at the top of the stairs where they needed to part company. “Hurry.”

Rachel helped Jennifer slip carefully out of her wedding dress, and they both laughed when they saw the gift from Scott. He had sent jeans, socks with wedding bells on them,
new tennis shoes. It was the sweatshirt that brought the laughter. It was white with a beautiful red heart with Scott Loves Jennifer written on the front and Jennifer Loves Scott written on the back, all the kids’ initials at the bottom as the designers.

Jennifer met Scott at the top of the stairs. He had changed into jeans and a company sweatshirt. He grinned and gave her a hug. “Thanks for wearing it.”

“Are you kidding? I love it.”

“Brad has brought the car around, it’s been appropriately decorated, though I was able to talk the kids out of tin cans attached to the bumper. We’ve got friends standing two-deep in line to toss rice.”

“You’re loving this.”

He grinned. “Of course. Now that all the ceremony is over, it’s time to have fun.”

She laughed and let him tug her to the door. “Ready to run?” he asked.

As they came through the doorway, the rice began to fly amidst laughter from their family and friends. They hurried to the car through the shower of rice. Scott came around to open Jennifer’s door, get her safely seated. She had to bat a few balloons from inside the car before she could get in. Scott circled the car, grinning at the Just Married wording on the windows. Brad handed him the car keys. “The car is filled up, sodas are in the cooler, and I made sure all your luggage is still there.”

“Thanks, friend,” Scott said with a grin.

Scott found his sunglasses and slipped them on, looked over at his new wife and grinned. “Ready to go?”

She laughed as she tried to get the rice out of her hair. “Please.”

She watched where they were going until she saw Scott
turn onto the interstate. She settled back in her seat and made herself comfortable. The stress was over, and she was now conserving her energy for the evening. It had been a very long day already. She closed her eyes with a sigh.

“You were beautiful today.”

She turned her head on the seat and smiled. “You looked dashing in your tux.”

“You think so?”

“Most definitely. Can you tell me where we are going?”

“I thought we could use a little uninterrupted time. We are borrowing the home of friends for the next week. It’s a country place, secluded. There’s a pool table in the den, so we can play a few friendly games. There are horses to ride and cross-country trails to ski if we get some snow. I also thought you might enjoy the peace and quiet to work on your book. Rachel transferred everything to my laptop, and your notes are in the briefcase.”

She reached over and hugged him. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He gestured to the map on the seat beside him. “It’s a four-hour drive, so it’s going to be late when we arrive. Why don’t you try to get comfortable and catch a nap? There should be a couple of pillows in the back seat, complements of Trish.”

Jennifer found them. “Thank you, Trish.” She piled them up against the door and made herself comfortable.

Scott looked over, a short time later, to find Jennifer had fallen asleep. Her hands were slack in her lap, her breathing low and level, and her head was leaning against the locked side door, the seat belt holding her still. He smiled. His wife.

Thank you, Lord. I owe you one.

Her eyes had been so crystal clear since the day she had come awake. No fear, no tension, no stress. It was the Jennifer he had seen in pictures from years ago. She hadn’t told
him why the fear was gone, and he didn’t intend to press. She’d tell him when she was ready.

It was a glorious sunset an hour later, wonderful in color. Scott considered waking up Jennifer to enjoy the view but decided against it. She was sleeping so peacefully. She woke about twenty minutes before they arrived, stretched her arms and settled back, relaxed.

It was a beautiful home. Scott led Jennifer to the front door and, with a smile, carried her over the threshold.

Scott found Jennifer in the kitchen when he came downstairs from carrying in the luggage. “They left a nice note,” Jennifer said, gesturing to the counter. “They also left dinner. There’s Italian beef and a wonderful cheese dip, all the fixings for salad. Interested?”

“Very. I don’t remember lunch.”

Jennifer smiled. “See if you can find the plates, and I’ll get started on the salad.”

They played four games of pool after dinner, effectively dispelling any notion of her stiff hand having affected her game. After soundly beating her husband for the fourth time, Jennifer couldn’t prevent a giggle as he swept down on her after she sank the eight ball and picked her up off the floor. “You are lethal at this game. I think it’s time we did something else.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck. “What did you have in mind?”