Ghost Sniper

88

Lena Deiss looked resplendent in her wedding gown. Her heart thudded in her chest as she walked up the aisle toward a smiling Sabastian Blickensderfer, a bouquet of white roses clutched to her breast. Both sides of the towering cathedral were filled to capacity with admiring friends and adoring family. There was a genuine buzz in the atmosphere — a buzz akin to that of a royal occasion — and Lena was content with her decision to marry.

Sabastian had matured since their reconciliation, and he had begun to pay her more attention. Lena had matured as well in the short term, forcing herself to admit that chasing a life of adventure was childish and fanciful. Not even the men who lived that life lived it for very long. They died young, and they died tragically, and they left heartbreak in their wake.

Now she was focused on being a wife and eventually a mother. There would always be plenty of money, and Sabastian had promised to build her the house she had dreamed of. Well, to be honest, it would be more of a modern castle than a house, but wasn’t that a rich husband’s job, to treat his wife like a queen? Besides, if she would be expected to tolerate his occasional indiscretions, a castle wasn’t too much to ask.

Halfway up the aisle, however, all of her contentment and focus went out the window.

At the far end of a pew on Sabastian’s side of the aisle, she glanced at the set and chiseled visage of a man she had believed dead, his piercing gray eyes staring back at her.

Certain that her own eyes were playing tricks, she blinked and shook her head. In that space of time, the ghost had disappeared.

My God! she thought to herself, stealing a backward glance down the wall to make sure she hadn’t seen whom she thought she’d seen, flashing a smile to some friends to cover her awkward lapse.

Her friends smiled back excitedly, giving her a collective thumbs-up of encouragement. The rest of her trip up the aisle was spent in the panicked realization that she could never be content as a wife and mother. She suddenly saw herself taking lovers behind Sabastian’s back, as he would take lovers behind hers, both of them living the same mutual lie their respective parents had lived, raising a son or a daughter who would in turn grow up to perpetuate that same lie.

She took her first step at the base of the altar and, for an alarming moment, thought she was going to be sick. Sabastian saw it on her face and stepped down to offer his hand.

“Thank you,” she whispered, stepping up to his side and taking his arm.

“Are you okay?” the priest asked for their ears alone.

She nodded, her breath coming in shallow drafts.

“Very well,” he said, switching on his tiny microphone and lifting his gaze to the congregation.

“Dearly beloved,” he began in a gentle voice, “we are gathered here today in the presence of witnesses to join Lena and Sabastian in the bonds of holy matrimony. Commended to be honorable among all, this is not a union to be entered into lightly, but reverently, passionately, and lovingly. These two persons—”

Lena cleared her throat, and for a fraction of a second, the priest’s attention faltered.

“—present now to be joined—”

She cleared her throat again, and this time he looked directly at her, switching off the microphone. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked quietly.

She shook her head, breaking out in a sweat and pulling Sabastian’s arm to bring him closer. “I can’t,” she whispered. “I’m sorry, but I can’t do this!”

Sabastian closed his hand over hers, looking into her eyes and smiling. “You might have said something a little sooner, my love.”

Tears spilled down her cheeks. “I’m sorry… I truly thought I could, but I can’t.”

The cathedral could not have been quieter in that moment had it been completely empty.

He kissed her lips and caressed her face.

“I’m so sorry,” she croaked, the tears flowing.

“For what?” he asked softly, brushing away the tears. “For being the smarter of us?”

She put her arms around him, and they held each tightly for a long moment. Finally, he whispered into her ear, “Don’t be afraid. I’ll take care of everything.”

They separated, and he asked the priest for the microphone. The perplexed young priest took the slender wire from around his neck and handed it to him.

Sabastian switched on the microphone, put his arm around Lena’s waist, and turned to face the congregation, confident and composed.

“Dear friends,” he said, seeking out faces on both sides of the aisle that he knew he could count on. “Dear family.” He kissed Lena’s hair. “Lena and I thank you from the bottoms of our hearts for the love you have shown us both by coming here today. We apologize for this last-minute change in plans, and we beg your forgiveness. We are all imperfect human beings — I more imperfect than most — and we have all made mistakes in our lives.” He paused to smile compassionately over the crowd. “Lena and I have decided against making a mistake here today… but will you please—if you love us—will you please join us at the reception hall? There is a fine meal and some very expensive champagne awaiting us all, with an orchestra and dancing that will last the entire night. So please, please honor us by joining us in a celebration of this life which we are all so privileged to live.”

With that, he handed the microphone back to the priest, and to Lena’s astonishment, the congregation began to applaud as Sabastian took her by the hand and led her down the aisle. They arrived at the entrance, and he turned them both to face back toward the altar, waving airily as everyone began standing.

“How was that for poise?” he said into her ear.

Her eyes flooded again. “You’ll be a legend.”

“No,” he said, laughing, “but nor will I look the fool.”