A Walk Along the Beach by Debbie Macomber Page 0,73
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“Where will we hold the wedding?” Lucas asked, shaking his head at Chantelle. “Only a few days ago you told me you’d searched every hotel and venue in the city. It would be impossible to pull off a proper wedding in a matter of a few days.”
Chantelle placed her hands on both sides of my brother’s face, her gaze holding his. “Oh ye of little faith. Don’t you know where there’s a will there’s a way?”
My thought exactly, especially when it came to Harper. We all needed to stop with the doom and gloom. We had to help Harper, stand with her. Fight with everything in us.
Overwhelmed, Lucas shrugged. “All right, woman, you tell me where and I’ll be there in a tuxedo, ready to swear my love to you for the remainder of my life.”
* * *
—
Two days later, I got a text from Chantelle asking me to phone her as soon as I could. Harper was resting. I let her sleep as long as she wanted to, believing her body needed as much rest as possible. I stepped out of the room and called my soon-to-be sister-in-law.
“Hey, what’s up?” I said, fully prepared for Chantelle to admit defeat. A part of me wanted her to fail so that when the day came for the wedding set in Oceanside, I could believe Harper would be there, well on her way to recovery.
Also, I thought Chantelle had taken on an impossible task. No way would she be able to put together a wedding on the spur of the moment, unless we all trudged over to the King County Courthouse and stood before a judge. It went without saying that wasn’t the kind of wedding Chantelle or my brother wanted. She’d worked far too hard creating her wedding dress and our bridesmaid gowns. A wedding before a judge would be a cheap imitation of what had been already set into place.
“How’s Harper?”
“She’s resting.”
“Good. She’s going to need all the strength she can muster for Friday afternoon.”
“You found a venue for the wedding?”
“It’s the perfect place for Harper, and for Lucas and me, too.”
“Where?” I gasped the question, shocked that Chantelle had managed to pull this off.
“Have you ever sat in the courtyard outside the hospital cafeteria?”
I had. Many times. The space was lovely, with greenery flowing over waist-high planter boxes. Picnic tables dotted the area. It was an oasis in the middle of the hospital. Fresh. Green. Thriving. Alive.
“You and Lucas are going to be married…here?” Although I had asked the question, it was more of a statement. Just as Chantelle had promised, it was perfect for Harper. I’d fretted endlessly about her ability to dress and then be transported with her IV pole and wheelchair into town, or wherever Chantelle had found.
“Pastor McDonald is driving your father with him into town for the ceremony. My parents and the rest of the wedding party are all on board. I’ve got all the details handled.”
“How…I mean, what made you think of holding it here?” The suggestion was brilliant.
She was quick to give credit where it was due. “John came up with the idea. I called him to ask about the risk of transporting Harper. As we were discussing what would need to be done, I realized how difficult it would be. He said it was too bad we couldn’t hold the wedding in her room. That got me thinking about an area in the hospital that would work.”
“Chantelle, it’s perfect.”
“It’s a great solution,” she agreed proudly.
“Do you have a time set?”
“Yes, well, that was the tricky part. As you know, the patio is a popular area at lunch and dinner. The best time we could arrange is three o’clock in the afternoon. The space will be cordoned off and decorated with streamers and balloons. The florist is supplying an archway for Lucas and me to stand under to exchange our vows. I’ve arranged for huge baskets of white roses on each side. It’ll be every bit as good as what I’d planned for the ceremony in Oceanside.”
“What about—”
Chantelle didn’t let me finish. “Lucas and I decided we won’t cancel the original date, seeing that the invitations have already been mailed. Instead of the wedding, it will be a dinner and reception.”
It only made sense they would keep the original date. Making sense, however, was something that seemed to have been lost on me since our last meeting with Dr. Carroll. I was afraid, scared out of my wits that