LITMIR.BIZ

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demeanor as he delivered a short homily on the blessings and responsibilities of marriage and read the vows, which the happy couple spoke loudly and clearly.

      In a small departure from the norm, it had been decided that it was best if the ring bearer—the youngest of Olivia’s three sons—make as short an appearance as possible in his formal role. This arrangement also gave him a real moment in the spotlight as he now came forward, carrying the actual rings attached to a small pillow by ribbons. Connie and the best man, Boyd, a friend and employee of Vince’s, met him at the head of the aisle and took the rings from him, then moved into position once more while shepherding the young boy into his spot among the groomsmen, who were his uncles.

      The rings were exchanged.

      Marcus lit two taper candles and passed them to the bride and groom, who together lit the unity candle while the organ played. Then they knelt at the altar and received their blessing.

      Finally, the moment came when Marcus pronounced them man and wife, followed by the admonition “You may kiss your bride.”

      To her shock, Connie found that she couldn’t watch.

      It was ludicrous. She had seen the two kiss before, and she’d always felt such delight for her sister’s sake. She knew that Jolie deserved the kind of love that Vince showered upon her. Yet, in that moment when they publicly sealed their lifelong commitment to each other, Connie could not bear to witness it.

      Somehow and very unexpectedly, it was as if a knife had been driven into her heart, as if she were witnessing the death of all her romantic notions, silly as they had been. Even as the newly married couple turned to be presented to the assembly as Mr. and Mrs. Vince Cutler, Connie could not look at them. She applauded along with everyone else and she truly was happy for them, but she suddenly felt as if a sob was about to break free from her chest.

      She knew what it was, of course. She had felt envy before but never like this—never with this searing sense of pure loss—for surely this moment was as close as she would ever come to a wedding of her own.

      Not even time could diminish the mistakes that she had made. Only in Heaven would she be able to say that it no longer mattered. As Marcus often said, God removes the consequences of sin in the hereafter, but in the here and now, our choices often yield terrible fruit.

      The sad result of her choices was that no decent Christian man would ever want her for his wife, and that was as it should be. She thought that she’d faced and accepted that harsh truth, but suddenly she realized that deep down she harbored a very foolish hope, which now surely had been properly dashed.

      It was all for the best, she told herself. She was not like Jolie. Unfortunately, she was much more like their mother, and this just served to prove it. No matter how much she had tried to deny it in the past, the emotional neediness of Velma Wheeler was very much her legacy to her youngest daughter.

      Disgusted with herself, Connie fixed her smile and followed her sister and her new husband down the aisle. The best man—a perfectly nice, married gentleman—escorted her, but it was all she could do to hold his arm until they had cleared the room.

      At once, she was swept into a joint hug by the newly married couple, and then it was fairly chaotic for several moments as the remainder of the wedding party joined them. Telling herself that she would be thankful for this reality check later, Connie allowed herself to be hurried into a side room while the photographer snapped candid shots and Marcus told the guests how to find the hall where the reception would be held.

      After the guests had headed toward the reception site, the wedding party hurried back into the sanctuary for a few group photos. Then the attendants trooped over to the reception en masse while Jolie and Vince struck a few poses as husband and wife.

      It was a happy, talking, laughing mob in the reception hall. Connie couldn’t have counted the number of hugs that enveloped her, and yet shortly after the new Mr. and Mrs. Cutler arrived, Connie found herself standing alone in a corner watching the festivities. She felt apart, solitary, sealed away behind an invisible wall of past mistakes.

      Some prisons, she had learned, were not made of bars.

      Squaring her shoulders, she scolded herself for letting regret stain this of all days. After sending a quick prayer upward, she fixed her smile and forced one foot in front of the other until she was in the midst of the throng once more.

      Marcus sauntered forward, free of his clerical robes, a cup of punch in one hand and a relaxed smile on his face. He glanced across the room to the table where Jolie and Vince were seated. Russell lolled on his aunt’s lap, playing with the edge of her veil, which she’d looped over one arm before taking her seat.

      “I never expected this,” Marcus said, surprised when his sister jumped slightly. He shouldn’t have been. She held herself apart too much. It sometimes seemed to him that Connie had not yet left prison behind her.

      “What?” she asked uncertainly.

      He waved a hand. “This. Somehow, I never thought about it. There always seemed to be so much else to worry about, and now suddenly here we are, a real family doing just what real families do.”

      “It’s the Cutlers,” Connie said. “They’re just so normal that they make you feel normal by association.”

      “I don’t know,” he mused, his green eyes narrowing. “I think we might be more normal than we realize.”

      “You, maybe,” she countered softly, then immediately amended that. “And Jolie. Definitely Jolie.”

      He cocked his head. “Not you?”

      “Not me,” she answered softly.

      He looped an arm around her shoulders in brotherly support.

      “You may be the most normal of us all, Connie.”

      She shook her head and Marcus sighed inwardly. Sensitive and caring, Connie had suffered the most after their mother had abandoned them. As a result, she could not seem to stop punishing herself for past sins. She carried such needless guilt, such overwhelming shame. It was one of the reasons Marcus had convinced her to regain custody of her son. Going against Jolie had hurt him, but he had known Jolie would survive. He hadn’t been so sure about Connie, and yet here she was, as lovely and sweet as ever.

      He followed her adoring gaze to her son. No longer entertained by the delicate edging of Jolie’s veil, Russell suddenly flopped over and tried to pull himself upright on Jolie’s lap by tugging at the bodice of her wedding gown. Vince immediately reached over and plucked him off Jolie, settling him in his own lap, but Connie was a very conscientious mother. She had a gift for it, frankly, if Marcus did say so himself.

      She immediately started toward her rambunctious son, saying “Uh-oh. Someone is restless.”

      Marcus followed in her wake, watching the way that Russell so readily came up into her arms.

      “He looks so adorable in that little suit,” Jolie said, her eyes shining.

      Her smile looked permanent, Marcus was thankful to note.

      “Marcus insisted that he had to have one,” Connie said, sliding a look at Marcus. “He spends too much on us, doesn’t he, munchkin?”

      “Don’t be silly,” Marcus scoffed. “If you’d let me pay you for keeping house—”

      “You do pay me,” Connie interrupted tartly. “You’re putting a roof over our heads.”

      “It’s more than a fair exchange,” Marcus argued.

      “Somehow, I don’t think he minds,” Vince told Connie, smiling at Marcus and clasping Jolie’s hand in his.

      Marcus saluted him with his punch glass.

      “I’m sure he doesn’t,” Connie replied, “but I do. That’s why I’m intending to go to school and learn a trade of some sort.”

      Marcus studiously kept a grimace off his face, even as Jolie

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