Libby watched as the trains of her girlfriends’ deep-blue dresses flowed over the polished tiles. She waited until they had stopped at the altar before giving her father a nod as the “Wedding March” began.
Sam’s steps were measured and slow as he rolled the walker, decorated with a combination of blue irises and white chrysanthemums, before him. There had been days she never thought he would walk. And a wheelchair would have sufficed, but he’d been adamant that he would walk her down the aisle. It had become a goal he was determined to achieve, and achieve it he did, through pain and persistence. With each step, her pride in her father grew as they walked, arm and walker, toward the altar, toward Chance.
“How are you doing?” she whispered to her father.
“Never better,” he replied. She doubted that, but it comforted her to hear him say so.
The music seemed to swell with her happiness as she passed smiling faces and camera flashes. The wedding photographer crouched ahead, snapping away.
But it was the man at the end of the aisle who sent her heart soaring. The handsome one in a fitted tux who was looking at her as if she was a wonder of the world. His gaze served as a beacon, calling her to his side.
She heard someone sniffle as they moved to the steps of the altar and guessed it was Deidre.
Chance’s smile broadened, lighting up his face, as he mouthed “you’re beautiful” and stepped down to stand beside her father. The words of the minister were lost on her as she watched Chance’s face, looking for any signs of hesitancy. All she saw was a beaming groom.
“Who gives this woman?” the minister said.
“I do,” her father replied in his familiar, strong, booming voice. He lifted her veil, and she saw the tears in his eyes as she felt the warmth of his kiss on her cheek. He turned and grasped Chance’s hand, and then hers, to unite them.
“I know you’ll take good care of her, son,” her father whispered in a firm, confident tone, and then he turned and steered the walker toward the pew where Ed Farley stood ready to assist him into the seat.
This was it, she thought, as Chance pulled her hand up to his lips and kissed it, making her feel truly loved.
The rest of the ceremony was a blur. Libby said her vows, handwritten and memorized, talking of her love for him, his spirit, his courage, his determination, and how she would always strive to be worthy of his trust. He told her he was thankful for her persistence, gratified she had taught him about love and family, and vowed he would spend their life together striving to be worthy of her love.
After the minister said, “I now pronounce you husband and wife, you may kiss the bride,” she stepped into Chance’s embrace, and his arms surrounded her. His kiss was passionate, clearly unconcerned about the applauding audience. When he had finished devouring her mouth, he stood back and smiled.
“I love you, Libby Cochran. Now and forever.”
That was the moment she would cherish, always.