As the image recedes, there is a commotion at the door and my mother comes in. Automatically my father takes a step back, almost guiltily. And I see what I have never seen before. The unconscious pattern of our relationships. All of us afraid to show affection to anyone but my mother.
My mother takes a deep breath. ‘You look wonderful, Snow,’ she says.
And I smile at her. As if she really means it. As if she really loves me. I know she thinks the dress is too big and not elegant enough, but I don’t care. It doesn’t matter. I love her, anyway. I just have to remember what Shane said, ‘Love does not measure. It only gives.’
‘You look beautiful too, Mum.’ And she does, in a cream suit with her trademark pearl necklace around her throat.
‘Thank you, my dear,’ she says politely.
‘Well, I guess we better get going,’ my father chips in.
I turn to him, beaming. ‘Yes, we should.’
In the car, with the fragrance of my bridal bouquet enveloping us, my father turns to me. ‘She does love you in her own way, you know?’ he says.
‘I know, Papa. I know,’ I say and squeeze his hand.
‘You have a heart of gold, Snow. A heart of gold,’ he mutters. ‘To everyone else you may look like a grown woman, but to me you will always be in pigtails and asking me what God eats, or why mice are not striped like tigers?’
We arrive at the castle and an assortment of people are waiting outside; the planner, photographer, and some other organizers. Little Liliana is one of the flower girls. Dressed in a black and white printed dress with a flower crown and carrying a miniature green wreath, she looks utterly adorable. She grins and waves at me. And Tommy, the ring bearer, is all dressed like a mini man, and trying very hard to look up someone’s skirt.
As we walk to the entrance, we pass lovely moss-covered animal topiaries. Pigs, bears and rabbits. We enter the impressive doorway and walk down a dark stone corridor.
My father turns to me. ‘Are you ready?’
I nod silently, speechless. They open the great doors and the little girls go ahead, strewing rose petals.
Everyone turns to look at me, but I walk down the aisle in a daze, my eyes searching for Shane. I see his dark head almost straight away. He has turned and is looking at me. Through my veil our eyes meet. And my breath is snatched away.
He is so incredibly handsome.
My feet stumble and I cling automatically to my father’s arm. He glances at me anxiously, and Shane makes a slight movement as if he is about to leave his position and come to me, but I recover, and we carry on down the aisle under Shane’s watchful gaze.
My father lifts my veil and kisses me on my forehead. Shane breaks tradition and hugs my father as if they are old friends. My father nods, overcome with emotion and turns again to me. He hugs me tightly and then pulls away. As he is turning away, I call him as if I am a little girl again, ‘Daddy?’
He twists around, tears in his eyes, and I hug him again. ‘I love you,’ I whisper in his ear.
And he says, ‘I hope you know I’ve always loved you the best.’
And I whisper back, ‘Yes, I know that.’
Then I am given to Shane. He holds out his hand and grins irrepressibly at me, as if he too can’t believe his luck.
The words of the service sound like they are coming from the bottom of the sea. I repeat them carefully. It is truly like a dream. I just cannot believe that I am marrying Shane. As if in slow motion, I am holding out my hand and Shane’s strong fingers are slipping the ring onto my finger. I look up at him.
‘You may kiss the bride,’ the priest says.
Shane bends his mouth and, as his lips touch mine, all the hundreds of guests fire their cap guns at the same time. The reverberating sound startles me. I gasp and a laughing Shane gathers me in his arms and takes my mouth in a long, deep kiss.
‘God, I love you, Snow,’ he says, looking into my eyes.
The organ music reaches a crescendo triumphantly.
‘Let’s go,’ Layla says to me after we have posed for photos in the castle and on the lawns, ‘Time to change.’
‘Change? Into what?’
‘It’s a surprise,’ she says with wink.
We go into one of the smaller rooms next to the great hall where the reception will be held, and there is a deep red and gold traditional Indian bridal costume hanging on a hanger. I turn around and look at Layla. ‘I’m wearing an Indian costume?’
She laughs gaily. ‘We all are. It was Shane’s idea.’
I laugh in disbelief. ‘Really?’
‘Yes,’ she says excitedly.
‘OK,’ I say, getting into the groove of an Indian wedding. I think of Chitra sitting out there in the crowd. She’ll be so tickled.