Page 76 of Song of Lorelei
Siren married sea captain one foggy August afternoon on the sands of their private cove.
Lorelei spent the morning with Lila, Nireed, and Katrina, leisurely getting ready for the ceremony. They had the whole cottage to themselves; Killian was getting ready at the Walshes’s.
The air buzzed with a staticky nervous excitement. They laughed and giggled themselves silly on too many mimosas, swaying to instrumental music—something not offensive to Nireed’s ears—and plucked finger foods from trays brought by Marci, while also giving into her admonishments to drink more water.
Her longest, oldest friend braided her thick auburn hair into a loose fishtail braid, tied off at the end with white ribbon, then draped over her shoulder. The siren who taught her to embrace her oceanic origins, and who saved her loved ones, wove in pearls and small sprigs of Mystic Spires Blue, a type of sage that brought tiny pops of cool color to her hair. And the woman who faced innumerable uncharted waters with her, who protected her, and gave her and her kind the gift of dignity and control, applied a clear lacquer to her nails.
As they primped and preened, Nireed regaled stories of how sirens of old used to claim their lifelong mates in elaborate wooing rituals that were starting to return. Lila talked about her own wedding, and how nervous Will had been.
Lorelei’s dress was made of ivory tulle, delicately embellished with flowered appliqué that started at her sheer shoulder straps and trailed down the plunge of her bodice to flowing skirt. Standing before a floor-length mirror, she smoothed down the front with shaking hands, drunk on joy, and maybe a little tipsy from all the mimosas.
Now for the final touches.
She picked up a worn, red velvet box from her dresser, opening it to reveal two polished pearl earrings on age-yellowed satin that had once belonged to Greta Roth. Her grandmother had worn them to her swearing in and every court case that followed. Tears filled her eyes as she donned them, followed by a simple silver ring band borrowed from Marci, the mother-in-law of her heart.
What might Annaliese Kruetz be doing now? Had she returned to Michigan? Lorelei had considered inviting her; but that was a lot of emotionally charged pressure for them both on a day such as this. There would be other opportunities for them to continue working on a relationship, and there was no need to rush it.
As her bridesmaids readied themselves, in dresses of different shades of blue, chosen based on what flattered them best, Lorelei sat down at her desk and wrote a letter to Killian. Part reflection on their time together, part vows that she’d give to him tonight. Or tomorrow morning before brunch, depending on how much downtime for reading they gave each other after the reception.
Pictures came next. Then time for the ceremony.
As guests got situated outside, Lorelei waited in the living room, nervously picking at her wildflower bouquet, waiting for Walt to come get her. She nearly jumped out of her skin when he slipped in through the front door, dapper in his black tux and bow tie.
“My girl, you look beautiful.” His eyes watered as he held out his hand for her to take. “You ready?”
She let out a ragged breath, placing her hand in his. “I’m ready. Don’t let me fall.”
“Never.”
He opened the door.
She gasped, tears springing to her eyes.
Merfolk dotted the cove—Undine, Aersila, and the others who had been a part of the Dawn Chaser crew’s rescue—each holding vigil with candle lanterns floating between their hands, glimmering in the fog that rolled off the water. A chorus of siren song began as a low melody, then rose in tempo as Lorelei stepped down onto the cottage stoop, hand threaded through the crook of Walt’s elbow.
They sang a song that Lorelei loved. That they learned human music for her… She sniffed, happy tears rolling down her cheeks, touched by the thoughtfulness and foresight. Lila and Katrina must have helped coordinate it.
Walt covered her fingers with his, squeezing them gently, and held her steady as they descended the sandy slope to the water’s edge.
Their small gathering of human guests stood in two short rows on the sand. Marci. Killian’s crew. Jackie Gaten. Ed Knudsen from Portland. Susan Lennard from Marquette. And, of course, the photographer.
But she wouldn’t have it any other way. While she longed for the mother who raised her, and the one who might one day become a regular part of her life, this was as close to a perfect wedding day as she could ever hope to have. These people were the family of her heart, and they were plenty.
She locked eyes with Killian.
Her anchor. Her lifeline. Her beacon in the fog. Her soul’s other half.
Heart in her throat, she choked back a sob, trying not to ugly cry on her wedding day.
Misty-eyed and grinning from ear-to-ear, he was so handsome in his slate grey tux, hands clasped behind his back, dark brown hair tousled by sea breeze. Along his jaw he sported the thin layer of scruff she liked. White shirt. Black tie. And pinned to his lapel was a boutonniere made from Mystic Spires Blue, just like the ones in her hair.
Their closest friends flanked him to either side. Will and Lila to the right. Katrina and Nireed to the left.
Walt brought her to her soon-to-be husband, kissing her cheek before rounding to the other side of them to also serve as their officiant. Lila had helped him maneuver an online course, so that he could marry them.
Giving her bouquet to Katrina, Lorelei turned to Killian, scarcely able to draw breath. This was it. Face to face with her husband to be. He beamed down at her with a watery smile and tears in his eyes, one good blink away from escape. As he threaded his fingers through hers, ever seeking her touch, her nerves settled, and she breathed.
This man was her comfort, her joy, her safe harbor. No one could predict what the future may hold, life as changing and unpredictable as the seas, and they’d weather together whatever storms came, but this moment was certain, a gift.