Authors: Renee Ryan
Tags: #Love Inspired Historical
The look in Marc's eyes gave Jonathon pause. If he didn't know better he'd think he'd insulted the man. That hadn't been his intention. “I'm the product of an alliance between a woman of questionable virtue and an adulterer.
That's
where I come from. My blood is forever tainted.”
“Your background is no different than my wife's.” Marc leaned his elbows on his knees. “Is Laney's blood tainted?”
“You're missing my point.”
“Am I?”
Heart grim, Jonathon told Marc about his half brother's recent antics, about the money he'd given Josh to set up his latest mistress in her own house, where she would raise their illegitimate child in secret. “The sins of my father have carried over into one of his sons.”
Marc pressed the tips of his fingers together, brought them to rest beneath his chin. “You believe you'll turn out like your father and brother.”
Unable to deny it, Jonathon merely nodded.
“What about my influence in your life?” Marc asked, his tone giving away nothing of his thoughts.
And yet Jonathon knew exactly what his mentor was thinking. By hanging on to his connection to Joshua Greene, Jonathon was denying his link to this man.
Breaking eye contract, Marc stood, stepped around his desk and rummaged through the top drawer. He pulled out what looked to be a faded photograph, and handed it to Jonathon.
The image of the first Hotel Dupree stared back at him. The brick building had boasted nine impressive stories, and large, wrought-iron balconies on every floor. Jonathon had copied Marc's original design, all the way down to the blue-and-white striped awning over the entrance.
“You once told me,” Marc began, “that you kept my name on your hotels because you wanted your legacy tied directly with mine.”
Jonathon continued staring at the photograph, the word
legacy
ratcheting around in his mind. “I remember.”
Marc laid a hand on his shoulder. “Not only did you go into the hotel business because of me, but you have carried on my tradition of hiring employees who need a second chance. Men and women with little skill or talent, who may have made mistakes in the past but want to change their lives for good.”
Jonathon looked up from the picture.
“The future stands before you, Johnny. You can either continue focusing on the fact that you are the son of an adulterer and a prostitute, or you can accept that you've overcome a difficult past to make something more of yourself. It's up to you.”
Jonathon lowered his head and studied the image of the original Hotel Dupree, built by the man he most admired in this world. The backs of his eyes stung.
He swallowed hard, attempted to return the picture.
“Keep it,” Marc told him. “As a reminder of where you really come from.”
Unable to speak, he tucked the picture in an inner pocket of his jacket. “Thank you.”
“I've had the privilege of watching you grow from a troubled youth to a good, solid, godly man. You'll make Fanny a proper husband. Don't let anyone ever tell you otherwise, including yourself.”
If there was any good in him, it was because of this man's influence. The Lord had blessed Jonathon with a surrogate father a thousand times better than his real one. Part of him would always be defined by his past, but he didn't have to make the same mistakes the men who shared his blood had made.
Marc squeezed his shoulder. “Let's get you married.”
They made the trek out to the backyard, which spilled onto the church's property. With plenty of time before the ceremony, Jonathon took a few minutes to toss a ball around with a couple of the older boys. The activity was simple, a game he'd played hundreds of times in this yard.
A reminder of where you really come from
.
A half hour later, with Marc standing on his left and Laney perched in the front pew beside Fanny's mother, Jonathon took his place at the front of the church.
Reverend Beauregard O'Toole moved in on his right. The rebel preacher opened his church to the lost, the broken and the hurting. Jonathon had found God thanks to Beau's guidance. It mattered that he was the one to officiate this next step in his life.
Beau nodded to the woman at the piano and the short processional began.
Fanny's sister entered the church first and made the brief journey down the aisle. Callie's gaze was stuck on her husband sitting in the second pew. Reese Bennett Jr. winked at her. She blushed. He winked again.
Feeling as if he was intruding on their private moment, Jonathon looked away.
Still smiling, Callie drew to a stop on the other side of Beau, then turned to face the back of the church.
The music changed.
The wedding guests collectively rose to their feet.
And then...
Fanny appeared at the end of the aisle, her arm linked through her father's.
Jonathon's breath caught in his throat and all he could do was stare in wonder at the vision she made.
Dressed in cream-colored lace from head to toe, Fanny was the very picture of a beautiful bride. She'd pulled her blond curls into a fancy, complicated style atop her head. Little sprigs of wildflowers were scattered throughout, giving her beauty an ethereal quality.
His heart pounding with rib-cracking intensity, Jonathon knew he would forever treasure this moment when his bride stood in the doorway, arm in arm with her father, poised to begin her march down the aisle.
She was too far away for him to read her expression accurately, but he could feel her run her gaze over his face, each sweep a soft caress.
Minutes from now, she would be his wife.
She'd had little choice in the matter.
Jonathon braced his shoulders for the familiar guilt to slam through him. He experienced only a surge of joy.
His mind emptied of every thought but Fanny.
She was more than his business associate, more than his friend.
She was his future.
His bitter soul didn't deserve this woman, but now that he'd received her caring, experienced her generous spirit, he would never let her go.
Chapter Sixteen
C
aught inside Jonathon's stare, Fanny's heart took a tumble. Now that the time had come to pledge her life to him, she couldn't be more ready.
She started down the aisle.
Her father pulled her to a stop. At the sight of the concentrated intensity on his face, she felt her stomach clutch. He had something important to say to her, something that he wasn't quite sure how to voice.
She waited, impatient for him to break his silence.
“Are you sure this is what you want?” he asked at last.
Fanny glanced to the front of the church, her gaze uniting with Jonathon's once again. His eyes were filled with promises, promises she knew he would do everything in his power to keep.
If she'd had any doubts before, they vanished beneath the silent assurances she caught pooled in his eyes.
There were no guarantees, Fanny knew, but she also knew that with her love, and God's guidance, Jonathon would one day give her his entire heart.
She had to believe he would fully commit to their marriage, and make their union real, preferably one day very soon.
Fanny wouldn't force his hand on the matter. She would not nag or cajole, but she wouldn't remain completely docile, either. Some things were worth fighting for, and her marriage to Jonathon lived at the top of that list.
For now, Fanny would take whatever he was willing to give her, and hope for the rest. “Yes, Daddy, I'm absolutely, positively sure this is what I want.”
He tilted his head to the side and regarded her with a long, searching look.
“Truly,” she added.
He nodded, obvious relief flickering along the edges of his gaze. “Then I wish you the same happiness I have with your mother.”
Fanny remembered what her mother had said to her just this morning during the carriage ride over.
Where there is life, my dear, there is always hope.
Hope. All Fanny needed was hope, which started with faith. One small leap of faith.
She lifted her foot to begin the march into her future with the man she loved. This time, her father didn't pull her back.
With a quick glance to the left, then to the right, Fanny took note of the people packed shoulder to shoulder in the pews. The majority of her family was here, Mrs. Singletary, of course, as well as friends and other close relatives.
She caught her mother's eye.
Mary Mitchell looked happy, healthy andâpraise Godâwas breathing easily. Her asthma seemed to be improving by the day. For that reason alone, Fanny had been right to accept Jonathon's proposal.
Her gaze returned to the front of the church. Marc Dupree stood like a sentry by Jonathon's side.
Jonathon had gone through most of his life alone, save for the four years he'd spent at Charity House. Four blessed years that had helped mold him into the man she loved. As she closed the final distance between them, Fanny made a silent promise to herself, and to Jonathon. She would spend the rest of her days making sure he knew he was loved.
The next few minutes passed in a blur. Pastor Beau asked who gave this woman away. Her father answered without pause, “Her mother and I.”
Eyes shining, he kissed her cheek and then joined his wife in the front pew.
Jonathon took her father's place, reaching out his hand to her. Fanny placed her palm against his and let him draw her forward.
“Ready?” he whispered in her ear.
She smiled up at him. “I am more than ready.”
Pastor Beau opened his Bible and began the ceremony.
“Dearly beloved, Jonathon Marc Hawkins and Francine Mary Mitchell have invited us to share in the celebration of their marriage.” He paused to smile at Fanny, then Jonathon. “We, your family and friends, come together not to mark the start of your relationship, but to recognize the bond that already exists.”
As the preacher continued, Fanny swiped surreptitiously at her eyes. Conflicting emotions rolled through herâjoy and excitement, restlessness and anxiety. The combination made her stomach churn. She wasn't afraid, precisely, but...all right, yes, she was afraid, a little. What if Jonathon didn't come around to her way of thinking?
She didn't regret agreeing to marry him. She loved him. But what if she couldn't convince him to make their union real?
Fighting back a wave of panic, she swung her gaze up to meet his. Her breath caught in her throat. He was watching her with tender affection.
The sweet expression helped allay her fears.
She gave in to a smile. Something quite wonderful passed between them, something that nearly stole her breath again.
Biting back a sigh, she quickly focused her gaze again to the front of the church. She really needed to pay attention to the words of the ceremony. Both she and Jonathon were about to make lifelong promises to one another.
Per the pastor's direction, her groom took her hand and repeated the first of their marriage vows. “I, Jonathon Marc Hawkins, take thee, Francine Mary Mitchell, to be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish till death do us part.”
His voice was strong, each word spoken with perfect diction. Fanny nearly believed he could love her.
She knew it would be unwise to allow her mind to wander toward something that could very well end in heartache.
Where there is life, my dear, there is always hope.
The preacher directed Fanny to repeat after him.
She did so with her chin high and her eyes locked with her groom's. “I, Francine Mary Mitchell, take thee, Jonathon Marc Hawkins, to be my husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish till death do us part.”
As she made each pledge, Fanny knew she would keep every word. She would stick by Jonathon through each and every trial, no matter what joy or suffering lay ahead. She would work through any challenge with himâeven if they had a child together.
Pastor Beau's strong, steady voice broke through her thoughts. “Will you, Jonathon, have Fanny to be your wife? Will you love her, comfort and keep her, and forsaking all other, remain true to her as long as you both shall live?”
“I will.”
Fanny detected the confidence in his voice, the seriousness behind his vows. She also noted how Jonathon's eyes gleamed with genuine affection. Surely, love was but a step away.
Pastor Beau shifted his stance and presented Fanny with the same questions he'd just asked of Jonathon.
She responded directly to her groom. “I will.”
Jonathon clasped her hand and squeezed gently.
Her world instantly became brighter.
Only when he pulled his hand away did she become aware of the preacher's voice once again.
“Before this gathering, Jonathon and Fanny have professed their devotion. They will now give each other rings to wear as a sign of their deep commitment.”
Jonathon stretched out his hand to Marc, who passed him a pretty gold band. Eyes dark and serious, Jonathon took her hand in his.
“Fanny, I give you this ring as a symbol of our vows, and with all that I am, and all that I have, I honor you.” He slipped the gold band on her finger. “With this ring, I thee wed.”
Fanny looked over her shoulder at Callie. At the sight of her sister's watery eyes, she felt her own fill. Firming her chin, she resolved to get through the rest of the ceremony without crying.
Callie handed over the ring Fanny had picked out for her groom weeks ago. She slipped it onto his finger and kept her hand over the band of gold.
“Jonathon, I give you this ring as a symbol of our vows, and with all that I am, and all that I have, I honor you. With this ring, I thee wed.”
He smiled, then leaned so close to her she thought he was going to kiss her before given the go-ahead. Instead, he whispered in her ear. “I promise to do right by you, Fanny.”
She treasured that final vow above all the others, because she knew he meant to keep his promise.
Everyone else faded away, leaving just the two of them.
“I'll never leave you,” she whispered, not sure why she felt the need to say those words to him.
“Marriage is a gift from God,” Pastor Beau said, straying slightly from the traditional service. “Fanny, Jonathon, through the sacredness of your vows you have become one with one another and God. I urge you to honor your commitment the way the Lord intended from the beginning. Be fruitful and multiply.”
Be fruitful and multiply
.
Prudent advice, straight out of the Word of God, and yet the words were like a dagger to Fanny's heart. Feeling like a fraud, she lowered her gaze. When she lifted her head again, Jonathon's eyes were different. He'd morphed into the stranger he'd once been, not the man she knew now.
The thought had barely materialized when the pastor continued with the ceremony.
“Let love rule your household,” he said. “Hold fast to what is good and right and true. Outdo one another in showing love and mercy. And...” He paused, gave a self-deprecating laugh. “I think that's enough from this preacher for one day.”
The gathered guests joined in his laughter.
Fanny and Jonathon simply stared at one another, neither moving, both caught in a suspended moment of shared consternation.
Unaware of the tension between them, the pastor placed his hands on their shoulders. “It is with great honor that I declare you husband and wife. Jonathon, you may kiss your bride.”
Jonathon seemed to come back to himself at the pastor's instruction. Gaze somber, he placed a palm on Fanny's waist and drew her close.
Fanny wasn't sure what she saw in his dark, intense eyes. But when his lips pressed against hers, all her doubts and fears disappeared.
* * *
To Jonathon's way of thinking, this kiss with Fanny, their first as husband and wife, was filled with more emotion and feeling than all the others combined. He wanted to linger. Just a moment longer...
From a great distance, he heard Pastor Beau clear his throat, twice.
Slowly, reluctantly, Jonathon stepped back, away from Fanny, now his wife
.
His wife
.
By the sound of muffled snickering and actual hooting from a few of the Mitchell brothers, Jonathon figured he'd been a bit too enthusiastic with the obligatory kiss.
He gave Fanny an apologetic grimace.
She simply smiled. “Well done, Mr. Hawkins.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Hawkins.” He liked the sound of her new name rolling off his tongue.
Arm in arm, they turned and began their walk down the aisle.
Fanny's mother beamed at them from her perch on the front pew. Her father gave him a nod of approval.
Smiling at the people who were now his family, Jonathon continued guiding Fanny down the aisle. Each step pulled them toward an uncertain future, one they would face together as husband and wife.
Jonathon didn't know what awaited them in the days, weeks and years ahead, but he was determined to make their marriage a success.
At the back of the church, Fanny turned her face up to his.
She was so beautiful, so full of compassion and goodness. He wanted to believe all would turn out well.
But a sickening ball of dread knotted in the pit of his gut. He was going to let Fanny down, the truth of it as inevitable as snow falling in winter.
Smiling tenderly, Fanny touched his face. “I'm in this with you fully, Jonathon. I'm not walking away or letting you go, no matter what you say or do. I believe in you. I believe in us.”
These were her real wedding vows, the ones that came straight from her heart. He had to blink to stop the tears in his eyes.
He wanted to be as confident as she, wanted to give her a similar pledge from the depth of his soul.
Overcome with emotion, and an unfamiliar surge of hope, he planted a tender kiss on the tip of her nose. “I'll do everything in my power to be the husband you deserve.”
“I can't ask for more.”
She should. She should ask for much more from him.
After a moment of basking in her goodness, her purity of heart, Jonathon looked out over the church still full of family and friends. “Please, everyone, join us back at the hotel and celebrate our marriage with us.”
Taking Fanny's hand, he escorted her to the carriage waiting for them outside the church. He climbed in behind her. The carriage dipped and swayed as he settled in the seat across from her.
He smiled at his beautiful bride. “And so begins our adventure as husband and wife.”
“Not yet.” She took his hand and yanked him onto the cushions beside her. Snuggling against him, she released a happy sigh. “
Now
the adventure begins.”