Chapter 24: The Second Wedding

Claire's POV

On the third Saturday in October, at ten minutes to four, Tara pinned the last flower into my hair.

She did it with her tongue between her teeth, and her baby asleep in a sling against her chest.

"Hold still," she said.

"I am still."

"You're vibrating."

I looked at us in the vestry mirror.

My dress was cream silk, plain at the neck, with a skirt I could walk fast in.

I had picked it myself, on a Tuesday, from a little shop in Fishtown, and I'd paid for it with my own money.

Nobody had taken it in.

It fit.

"I want to say something," Tara said.

"You've said it."

"I want to say it in a church."

She tucked the pin in and stepped back.

"I'm sorry I took the first one," she said. "Thank you for letting me do your hair."

I turned and put my forehead against hers, careful of the baby.

"I haven't forgiven you for all of it," I said.

"I know."

"I forgive you for today."

"That's enough," she said, and sniffed. "That's plenty."

Bruno was waiting in the vestibule, in a black suit and no cap.

He offered me his arm, and I took it.

"The boss has been at the altar since three," he said. "He keeps checking his pocket for the ring."

"He has it?"

"He has had it for six months."

The church doors opened.

St. Brendan's was half full.

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