Livora Gracely

He slipped on the ring. Her smile needed no rehearsal.

Daniel had put instructions between the lines of his promise.

Slowly.

Look up.

Breathe.

The officiant examined the little page, then glanced at Daniel.

“That last one is advisable throughout.”

Daniel folded the paper along its existing crease. From the room beyond the doorway came the scrape of a chair, followed by someone asking where the flowers should go.

“I’ve practised,” he said.

“I can see that.”

Little Pencil Marks

The evening before, Daniel had stood beside his kitchen table and read the words aloud. His white hat lay beside the page. When he reached the longest sentence, he started again, trying to arrive at its end without sounding as though he had run there.

He had borrowed the officiant’s pencil after the rehearsal. The marks were meant to help. By breakfast, he had added so many that the promise looked rather busy.

Now, waiting near the front of the room, he touched the folded paper through his jacket. The ring was in a separate pocket. He had checked which pocket twice before leaving home and once after arriving.

Then Mae appeared at the doorway.

He took his hand away from his jacket. Her veil moved behind her as she approached, and a loose strand of hair curved beside her cheek. When she reached him, she held out her hand.

His shoulders lowered before he remembered the instruction about breathing.

Before the Words

Mae stood close enough that he could hear the faint rustle of her dress when she turned towards the officiant. She glanced at Daniel’s bow tie, straightened one edge with two fingers, and returned her hand to his.

“There,” she whispered.

“Was it crooked?”

“A little.”

“I’ve been checking the wrong things.”

She pressed his fingers. The officiant opened his book, and the room settled around them. Someone in the front row stopped searching in a handbag.

When Daniel’s turn came, he unfolded the page. He read the first sentence, then looked up at the place he had marked. Mae was watching him, her head tilted slightly, waiting for the rest.

He knew that look. Usually, it came while he was explaining something about the kitchen shelf.

He lowered the paper and finished the next sentence facing her.

Her Waiting Hand

One word caught. He tried it again, more quietly, and Mae’s thumb moved against his hand. She let him finish without supplying it.

After the final sentence, he remained looking at her. He folded the page and slipped it back into his jacket. The officiant waited a moment before prompting him for the ring.

“Yes,” Daniel said, reaching into his jacket.

He brought out the folded paper.

Mae’s mouth curved.

“The other pocket,” she whispered.

“I checked that.”

“I believe you.”

This time, the ring lay between his fingers. Mae extended her hand, and he steadied it in his own. The small gold circle passed over her knuckle and settled into place.

Her smile widened while he was still looking down. When he lifted his eyes, she was holding her hand where he had left it.

After the Ring

Mae spoke her promise with Daniel’s fingers resting beneath hers. He listened without consulting the page. When she finished, he answered the officiant’s next question promptly enough to raise a little laughter from the front row.

They turned towards the room together. Mae’s shoulder brushed his sleeve, and he reached for her hand again as the guests began to stand.

The officiant closed his book, then leaned towards Daniel.

“Whenever you’re ready, I’d like my pencil back.”

Daniel patted his jacket. Mae waited beside him, smiling while he checked both pockets.