grin.
“The wedding, yes. That’s why I came to talk to you.” Erik’s suffering—and his kiss—had pushed everything else from her mind. “I want to send Anders and Signe an invitation, but your mother thinks I should talk it over with you first.”
He dropped his hand from her face, his grin disappearing. “I don’t want Anders at the wedding.”
“But he’s your brother.”
“And your ex-fiancé. I don’t want him there.”
“I don’t want to be the cause of this rift between you two. If you invite him, perhaps you can mend fences.”
“It’s not going to happen.” He raised his hand to silence her when she would have continued to argue. “I’d better get back to work.”
Disappointment made Anne turn away. They couldn’t ignore the fact that she’d been engaged to Anders. Just when she thought they were growing closer, that he felt the same way about her she felt about him, he closed down and shut her out.
Would he ever let either of them forget she’d once been engaged to his brother? Anne vowed to someday bring the two brothers together.
****
“I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
Erik lifted Anne’s veil and looked into her eyes. His wife. He could scarcely believe this beautiful woman was his. That she had consented to marry him still humbled and amazed him.
He leaned on his cane as he reached for her, bringing his mouth to hers for a kiss to seal their vows. He lingered over the kiss, holding her when she would have pulled away. This moment was too precious to rush.
Finally he let her go, and she smiled radiantly at him, happiness glowing in her eyes. How long would she look at him with such joy, like he was the only man in the world? He prayed their time together wouldn’t be too short.
****
The three-piece band, consisting of an accordion player, a fellow on drums, and another on guitar, played an energetic version of “The Beer Barrel Polka.” Erik tapped his foot to the beat of the music as he watched his neighbors and friends get up to dance. He couldn’t keep a small note of bitterness from creeping into his thoughts. Here he was at his own wedding reception and unable to dance with his wife. He’d give anything to be able to take her into his arms and whirl her around the floor.
Anne sat beside him, clapping in time to the music and singing the words of the old song along with the rest of the crowd. Carl Bjornson, their closest neighbor, approached their table and, after introducing himself, extended his hand to her.
“Would you care to dance?”
Anne glanced at Erik, and then smiled at Carl. “That’s very kind of you, but no, thank you.”
Erik touched her arm. “Just because I can’t dance doesn’t mean you shouldn’t.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, of course. I’ve heard Carl hardly ever steps on his partner’s toes.” When she hesitated, he squeezed her hand. “Go. Have fun.”
Excitement lit her eyes. She kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Erik.”
With that she accepted Carl’s offered hand, and together they navigated the crowded dance floor. Erik watched as they began to dance across the floor, the voluminous skirts of Anne’s borrowed wedding dress swirling around her legs. She laughed up at Carl, and Erik experienced a painful pang of jealousy. It should have been him dancing with her.
When the dance was over, Carl led Anne over to the table where his pregnant wife Julia sat with his parents. Anne shook their hands, making small talk. He imagined her asking Julia when her baby was due and how she was feeling. His wife was a caring and compassionate person.
His mother took the seat beside him. “I think she’s going to fit into the community just fine. People already like her.”
“Of course they do. She’s wonderful.”
Astrid chuckled. “Be careful, dear. People will start thinking you’re in love with your wife.”
“Let them think what they want.”
“For what it’s worth, I believe the two of you
“The wedding, yes. That’s why I came to talk to you.” Erik’s suffering—and his kiss—had pushed everything else from her mind. “I want to send Anders and Signe an invitation, but your mother thinks I should talk it over with you first.”
He dropped his hand from her face, his grin disappearing. “I don’t want Anders at the wedding.”
“But he’s your brother.”
“And your ex-fiancé. I don’t want him there.”
“I don’t want to be the cause of this rift between you two. If you invite him, perhaps you can mend fences.”
“It’s not going to happen.” He raised his hand to silence her when she would have continued to argue. “I’d better get back to work.”
Disappointment made Anne turn away. They couldn’t ignore the fact that she’d been engaged to Anders. Just when she thought they were growing closer, that he felt the same way about her she felt about him, he closed down and shut her out.
Would he ever let either of them forget she’d once been engaged to his brother? Anne vowed to someday bring the two brothers together.
****
“I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
Erik lifted Anne’s veil and looked into her eyes. His wife. He could scarcely believe this beautiful woman was his. That she had consented to marry him still humbled and amazed him.
He leaned on his cane as he reached for her, bringing his mouth to hers for a kiss to seal their vows. He lingered over the kiss, holding her when she would have pulled away. This moment was too precious to rush.
Finally he let her go, and she smiled radiantly at him, happiness glowing in her eyes. How long would she look at him with such joy, like he was the only man in the world? He prayed their time together wouldn’t be too short.
****
The three-piece band, consisting of an accordion player, a fellow on drums, and another on guitar, played an energetic version of “The Beer Barrel Polka.” Erik tapped his foot to the beat of the music as he watched his neighbors and friends get up to dance. He couldn’t keep a small note of bitterness from creeping into his thoughts. Here he was at his own wedding reception and unable to dance with his wife. He’d give anything to be able to take her into his arms and whirl her around the floor.
Anne sat beside him, clapping in time to the music and singing the words of the old song along with the rest of the crowd. Carl Bjornson, their closest neighbor, approached their table and, after introducing himself, extended his hand to her.
“Would you care to dance?”
Anne glanced at Erik, and then smiled at Carl. “That’s very kind of you, but no, thank you.”
Erik touched her arm. “Just because I can’t dance doesn’t mean you shouldn’t.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, of course. I’ve heard Carl hardly ever steps on his partner’s toes.” When she hesitated, he squeezed her hand. “Go. Have fun.”
Excitement lit her eyes. She kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Erik.”
With that she accepted Carl’s offered hand, and together they navigated the crowded dance floor. Erik watched as they began to dance across the floor, the voluminous skirts of Anne’s borrowed wedding dress swirling around her legs. She laughed up at Carl, and Erik experienced a painful pang of jealousy. It should have been him dancing with her.
When the dance was over, Carl led Anne over to the table where his pregnant wife Julia sat with his parents. Anne shook their hands, making small talk. He imagined her asking Julia when her baby was due and how she was feeling. His wife was a caring and compassionate person.
His mother took the seat beside him. “I think she’s going to fit into the community just fine. People already like her.”
“Of course they do. She’s wonderful.”
Astrid chuckled. “Be careful, dear. People will start thinking you’re in love with your wife.”
“Let them think what they want.”
“For what it’s worth, I believe the two of you
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