My Groom Fled the Wedding, So His Father and His Guides Kept Me novel · Chapter 21 of 24

Chapter 21: The Ski Plane

The wedding dress hung on the back of my cabin door where it had hung since September, in its zippered bag.

I took it down at half past eight, with the engines growing in the south.

"What are you doing?" Jesse said from the doorway.

"Getting dressed."

"In that?"

"In that," I said.

He looked at me for a moment, and then he went and got the others.

They stood in my little cabin in their coats, four big men with their breath smoking.

I stepped into the pearl dress and held it up over my ribs.

The forty buttons ran down my spine, undone.

"Who does them?" Rolf asked.

"Hank," I said. "From the bottom."

Hank came and knelt behind me.

His hands did not shake.

He did the first button at the small of my back, and the second.

With each one his knuckles slid up my spine, warm and sure, and I stood still and let him.

He did not count out loud this time.

He did the last one at my nape, and he laid his palm on it for a moment, flat, and took it away.

"You look like a bride," he said.

"I look like the owner."

I stood on the end of the dock at nine with my heavy coat open over the dress and my braid down my back.

Hank stood on my right, with Beck and Rolf and Jesse in a row behind us.

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