The wedding couple were our colleagues. They seated you at my table. The evening was hot and humid—the wine cooling and delicious. I toasted the newlyweds, glass after glass. My professional reserve evaporated.
You waxed witty and teasing, and I leaned into you, giddy and laughing. You asked me to dance. I stood, unsteady. You proffered a supportive hand. Your arm slipped around my waist. I closed my eyes and drank in the scent of you: sun-washed cotton and spicey cologne.
I turned; our eyes locked. Wordless, our hearts signed an irrevocable, binding contract. That night, our paths converged.
Copyright © 2021 Lynn Nicholas All rights reserved
Lynn Nicholas’ first novel, Dancing Between the Beats, was published in 2019. Short fiction and poetry publication credits include Story Snacks and The Storyteller (published by Society of Southwestern Authors), Foliate Oak Literary Magazine, SandScript Arts & Literary Magazine, The Wild Word, Every Day Fiction, The Rose City Sisters, Wow! Women on Writing, Leaves of Ink, and the AARP Bulletin. Lynn is a member of Sisters in Crime and the Society of Southwestern Authors.
The sun was peering into the windows of the trailer at 161 Springer Lane. The smell of bacon on the stove was becoming more pronounced. Earl reached over and turned on the television set.
“Lurleen, you ready yet?,” Earl shouted. Lurleen had been outside “getting some sun” for the last five minutes, “so I can brown the same time as the bacon,” she said.
The calendar said it was April 1, 1957, but they both knew it as their wedding day. Lurleen came in from outside and changed from her robe to a gown. She grabbed Earl’s hand, and smiled.
© Copyright 2016 Steven Craig. All rights reserved.
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Steven Craig has not achieved accolades of any kind at any time. Not even a participation trophy, as he does not participate.
“Hold it! The wedding’s off!” Craig Carson, the bride’s father, roared at the caterers.
Guests were notified to appear at the Carson’s lakeside cabin instead, for a picnic sans bride and groom.
They’d both been married before, Matthew twice. His mother, Madeleine, would’ve bet money on this time.
She heard a commotion and turned to see Matthew and Cynthia arriving, hand in hand.
Maybe I can get to them before Craig kills him, she thought.
“You didn’t expect this; neither did we. The familiar arrangements spooked us like a premonition. We’ll be in Mexico. No use wasting a great honeymoon.”
© Copyright 2016 Sandra McGillivray Ortgies. All rights reserved.
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Sandra McGillivray Ortgies lives on Whidbey Island, WA and is a member of the Whidbey Writers Group. Her focus is on travel articles, short stories, and poetry.