Gerard doesn’t know if the man droning on and on in front of the crowd should properly be called a priest or a minister or a preacher or what, but he’s not wearing a clerical collar and he’s incredibly dull. The only thing keeping him from making faces to try and make the flower girl and ring bearer laugh is the fact that he knows the bride will kill all three of them if they do. If the Matron of Honor doesn’t beat her to it.
Uncle Roger looks happy, at least. Aunt Lily doesn’t exactly look happy, but at least she doesn’t look completely miserable. Martin and Melanie are hard to read from the outside. Gerard knows they’re both excited about what this means, and they’re taking this very seriously, but he also knows neither one of them is particularly comfortable.
Mostly it’s the clothes. Martin’s suit, while in theory made to fit, is just a bit too tight around the middle and shoulders, and his shiny black dress shoes are narrow and pointed and probably pinching his feet, which are short for his size but wide. Melanie, on the other hand, is stuffed into a monstrosity of taffeta and tulle and metallic-threaded lace that would emphasize her curves if she had any and wearing a pair of white patent-leather heels that bring her up to Martin’s shoulder. Neither one of them can fold their arms all the way, leaving Melanie clutching both handles of her now-empty basket and elbows akimbo like a marching band member at attention and Martin biting his lips in concentration as he fights to keep his hands at the perfect distance to not drop the pillow resting on them.
It’s also hot and stuffy in the venue; Gerard is having enough of a problem, but at least there are people around him fanning themselves to keep him cool. It’s practically airless where the bridal party stands. Melanie’s hair, pressed into ringlets for the occasion, has gone limp in the heat, whereas Martin’s by contrast has curled more tightly than usual. The flames on the candles on the altar aren’t even flickering.
Still. It’s the first wedding Gerard has ever been to; not much of a surprise, as he’s a thirteen-year-old boy with no relatives aside from his mother and no connections other than the people involved in this wedding. It means he has nothing to compare it to, but it is rather nice, and a bit exciting.
If only the officiant would shut up already.
He does, finally, and then there’s a lot of talk about bonds and sanctity, and both Uncle Roger and Aunt Lily are making promises and reciting oaths. Martin steps forward carefully and presents the pillow—there’s a small tearing sound as the seam up the back of his suit jacket splits but doesn’t completely separate, thank goodness—and the couple slip rings on one another’s fingers, rings Gerard knows are made not of gold or silver but of polished bone. The officiant declares them man and wife, and they kiss, not particularly romantically or tenderly but sincerely enough.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the officiant says at last, “I present to you Mr. and Mrs. Roger King.”
Polite applause, the wedding march strikes up and the party processes out, and Gerard is free. Or at least as free as he can be under the circumstances.
He ditches his seat and goes looking for Martin and Melanie.
He finds them in a vestibule, tucked safely out of the way. Martin has shucked his suit jacket and stands behind Melanie, unzipping the back of her dress. Anyone else would think they were up to something inappropriate, for all they’re only ten years old, but even if they hadn’t just become stepsiblings, Martin’s known he likes boys even longer than Gerard has and Melanie swore both of them to secrecy over the fact that she got Rose Lovejoy to kiss her right before break. Still and all, it’s probably a good thing they’re somewhere hidden.
“There,” Martin says, draping his discarded jacket over Melanie’s shoulders. The split is far less noticeable, considering she’s half his size and it hangs loosely on her. “Should be enough to pass muster, anyway.”
“Thank God we did the pictures ahead of time.” Melanie turns around and grins when she sees Gerard. “Hey!”
Martin turns, too. Gerard beams and holds out his arms. “Congratulations!”
They both hug him tightly. It’s cooler out here, at least, but they’re all still a bit sticky and they probably hug for too long under those circumstances. Still, Gerard is probably almost as excited for them as they are. Uncle Roger and Aunt Lily being married means Martin and Melanie won’t ever have to risk being separated—they’ll have at least one friend they can always count on, no matter where they go. Gerard will always hunt them down, too, but it’s not the same thing.
They’re family now, real family, and nobody deserves to have a loving family more than they do.
“I can’t believe this is real,” Melanie says into his shoulder. “It feels like I’m going to wake up any minute and it’s just going to be another dream.”
“I can’t believe it’s real, either,” Martin admits.
“I can believe it’s real, because if this was just a nice dream it wouldn’t be so bloody hot,” Gerard says, making both of them laugh. He pulls back and grins at them. Melanie’s got a life in her eyes he’s rarely seen, and Martin looks happier than he has since they laid his grandfather in the ground fifteen months ago. “I’ve never been to a wedding before. Do they usually go like that?”
“More or less,” Melanie says. “They didn’t have the ‘speak now or forever hold your peace’ part, though.”
“Probably so no one could object,” Martin mumbles. He wipes his forehead with the back of his hand. “I was kind of worried Mum wouldn’t do it at the last minute, though. O-or that—that my dad would suddenly come back and say it was all a mistake.”
Gerard snorts. “Dead men rarely walk into the middle of highly emotional situations with nothing more than a hi, everyone, did you miss me, so I don’t think there’s any worry of that.”
Martin’s brow creases in evident confusion. “He’s not dead. He just left us. With Mum being sick, and me—he said we weren’t worth it and walked out on us a couple months before I met you.”
Oh. Okay, Gerard is, as usual, an idiot, and he definitely walked right into that. It’s going to be hard dancing at the reception with his foot in his mouth, but he’ll give it a go. “Shit. Uh, Martin, I don’t—I’m pretty sure he’s dead.” He drops his voice as low as he can. “I think he’s in Mum’s Book.”
Martin’s face turns paper white. They all know what the Book is—Gerard’s mother showed it to them last year just after Martin’s birthday, telling them to watch closely and then reading aloud in a language Gerard now knows was Sanskrit from one of the pages until somehow, none of them saw the moment it happened, the ghost of a woman appeared in front of them sobbing and begging to be freed. She meant it to demonstrate what wonderful things could be done with a powerful book in the “right hands,” or so she said, but all of them had been terrified. More so when she explained to them in detail exactly how all the people had become trapped in its pages, and what she would do to them if they ever displeased her.
“What makes you think that?” Melanie demands in a hissing whisper. “Did you see him?”
“No, but I heard Mum and Aunt Lily talking once, and it sounded like Mum was teaching her to read in some other language, and when she read that page to us I recognized some of the words. And after a while, she told Aunt Lily that ‘in a few more days, you’ll be ready to pull him up whenever you want, you’d be amazed how cathartic it is’. Something like that.”
Martin swallows hard, twisting his hands together. “That—that doesn’t mean it’s my dad. I-I mean…it could be anyone who’s done something bad to Mum.”
“Like who?” Melanie demands.
“I dunno. Anybody. Everybody. To hear Mum tell it, the whole world’s been against her since the day she was born, except Roger and Aunt Mary.” For the first time Gerard has ever heard in all the time he’s known him, a little bit of bitterness slips into Martin’s tone when he speaks about his mother. “Depending on how long ago it was, it might even be Granddad.”
“It was longer ago than that,” Gerard assures him quickly, before Melanie can get spun up. He only met Martin’s grandfather once or twice, but the old man was amazingly kind to both him and Melanie, treating them both like they were as much his grandchildren as Martin. The thought of him being bound in the Book is even more painful than the thought of Martin’s father—or Gerard’s—being bound to it, but Gerard is sure he isn’t. “It was even before Aunt Lily and Uncle Roger were dating. Why’d they wait so long to start, anyway?”
“Dad had to wait for the mourning period for Mama to be up,” Melanie answers, still looking tense but not pushing things. “He can be kind of old-fashioned sometimes. It might have been Grandmama and Grandfather pushing it, too, but I dunno. Anyway, he didn’t just wait a year after she died, he waited a year after he met Lily.” She pauses and looks up at Martin uncertainly. “Am…am I going to be calling her Mum too?”
Martin looks uncertain. “I dunno. That’s kind of up to her, I guess. Just like it’ll be up to your dad if I can call him that, too.” He thinks for a moment. “Actually, it might be Mum’s call on that, too.”
Gerard decides to try and change the subject. “We can worry about that later, I think. C’mon, let’s get out there for the reception.”
“Yeah, they’ll both be upset if we miss the cake-cutting,” Melanie agrees.
Martin gives an exaggerated bow and offers her his arm dramatically. “May I escort you, milady?”
“You may, good sir,” Melanie drawls, resting her fingertips delicately on his arm. She extends her other hand towards Gerard. “Will you accompany us, my liege?”
Gerard bows so low his hair—which he’s managed to avoid letting his mother cut for long enough that it’s down to his shoulders—brushes the floor, then sticks out his arm. “It would be my honor, mademoiselle.”
All three of them dissolve into a fit of giggles as they proceed towards the courtyard, where the reception has been set up. Gerard knows it’s going to be rough—that Martin’s mum will find something to pick at or belittle him over, that Gerard’s mum will be poisonously sweet and do something hurtful to them, that Melanie’s dad will be too wrapped up in his little cloud of bliss to notice and none of them will tell him for fear of upsetting him—but for the moment, he’s happy to be a teenager, reveling in his friends’ joy.
He can save the little bit of hurt over the fact that they get to really be brother and sister, while he’s just going to be called that, for later. There will be time enough for sadness, for knowing that he’ll never matter as much to them as they do to each other, some other time. For now, he’s going to put it out of his mind and enjoy the moment.