A Ring For Christmas. Joan Elliott Pickart

Luke thought, that was exactly why they were there. This man, him, and this woman, Maggie, were about to be united in holy matrimony, become husband and wife until death parted them.

      He had never in his entire life felt like this. He was consumed with a soothing warmth of peace that was somehow combined with the coiling heat of desire. The chill within him that he now knew had been loneliness was gone, pushed into oblivion, never to return because Maggie was here. He’d waited an eternity for this, for her, to find his soul mate, and she was here at long last. Maggie.

      Oh, man, this was nuts, he thought, unable to stop a smile from forming on his lips. He was an attorney who dealt in facts, absolutes, things being either black or white, proven data, and…Yet he had suddenly been flung—there was no other word for it—flung helterskelter into a strange new world that embraced the romantic notion of love at first sight.

      Oh, yeah, this was crazy. And wonderful. And hard to believe, but he did believe it with his entire being—heart, mind, body and soul.

      Maggie Jenkins had come, she had seen, she had conquered. By doing nothing more than being, she had stolen his heart for all time, and he didn’t want it back. Not ever. He loved her. It was as simple and as complicated as that. It was exciting and terrifying at the same time. It couldn’t, shouldn’t, be true, but yet it was.

      He was in forever love with Maggie.

      “After you have lit the single candle from the ones that will be burning next to it,” Reverend Mason was saying, “blow out the others and place them back in the holders. The single burning candle will represent your union, becoming one entity.”

      Yes, Luke thought firmly.

      Yes, Maggie thought dreamily. Wasn’t that just the sweetest thing?

      Reverend Mason’s word became a buzz, like a multitude of bees in the background, as Maggie and Luke continued to look directly into each other’s eyes. Then suddenly what the priest said was loud and clear.

      “You may kiss the bride.”

      Luke framed Maggie’s face in his hands, looked at her intently for a long, heart-stopping moment, then slowly, so slowly, lowered his head and captured her lips in a kiss that was so tender, so reverent, so…theirs, that tears filled Maggie’s eyes. She savored the taste, the feel, the very essence of Luke, yearning for the kiss to never end.

      Reverend Mason cleared his throat. “Yes, well, that’s fine. Thank you, Luke, Maggie, for playing out your roles so convincingly.”

      Luke raised his head and both he and Maggie stared at the priest as though they had never seen him before in their lives.

      “I, um…” Reverend Mason continued, “I will then introduce Mr. and Mrs. Robert St. John to the congregation, the organ music will burst forth and the recessional will take place. Any questions?”

      Ginger jumped to her feet. “No, no questions. It’s going to be so beautiful. I can hardly wait until tomorrow night. Thank you so much, Reverend Mason. We’re off to the restaurant now for the rehearsal dinner. I do hope you and your wife will join us as planned.”

      “We’d be delighted,” he said, sliding one more glance at Luke and Maggie, who were still staring at him with rather stunned expressions on their faces.

      Maggie shook her head slightly to escape from the eerie spell that seemed to have transported her to a faraway place. She stepped back from Luke, averting her eyes, then spun around and forced another big smile onto her lips. Lips that still held the taste of Luke, the feel of Luke, tingled from the kiss shared with Luke.

      “Ginger,” Maggie said, “I’ll come to the restaurant to make certain that everything is as it should be, then I’m going to scoot on home.”

      “But you’re supposed to have dinner with us, Maggie,” Ginger said, pouting prettily.

      “I had a late lunch,” Maggie said. “I couldn’t eat a bite. Really.”

      “Don’t be silly, my dear,” Mr. Barrington said. “We all know how hard you’ve worked all these months to make this event perfect for our Ginger. I insist that you join us for dinner, even if you don’t eat much. Good. That’s settled. Me? I’m starving. Let’s get going.”

      “But—” Maggie said.

      “Come along, Mrs. St. John,” Luke said, encircling her shoulders with his arm.

      “What?” Maggie said, staring up at him with wide eyes. “Who?”

      “Oh, sorry,” Luke said, smiling. “I’m still in my role, I guess. You and I did get married a few minutes ago, you know. Maggie St. John. It has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

      “Ginger St. John has a nice ring to it,” she said. “That’s who I was pretending to be, remember? I’m Maggie Jenkins and that’s who I intend to remain.”

      “Ah,” Luke said, nodding.

      “And what does ‘ah’ mean?” she said.

      “Only that none of us have crystal balls to see into the future, Maggie Jenkins,” he said. “Who knows what might happen? Shall we go?”

      Without speaking further, Maggie grabbed the box that had held the satin bows, then marched down the aisle, snatching her purse from the last pew as she went.

      Outside the summer sky was a black velvet canopy sprinkled with twinkling diamondlike stars and a silvery moon, all of which went unnoticed by Maggie as she stomped to her ten-year-old van and slid behind the wheel.

      As she took her place in the line of vehicles headed to the restaurant she drew a deep, shuddering breath.

      Don’t think, she ordered herself. Don’t dwell on what took place in that church. Don’t relive that kiss, or see again the smoldering passion in Luke’s eyes or feel the tenderness of his hands on her flushed face or acknowledge the desire that had swept through her. Do not do that, Maggie Jenkins. Okay. Fine. She wouldn’t. She would not.

      But, darn it, what had happened back there? She had never in her life experienced anything so…so…whatever that had been. It was as though everyone had disappeared, leaving only her and Luke in a wondrous place that was theirs alone. The bride. The groom. The kiss. The undefinable something that in its intensity took desire beyond description. Luke.

      Maggie sighed. It was a dreamy, wistful, womanly sigh that caused a soft smile to form on her lips. In the next instant she smacked the steering wheel with the palm of her hand.

      “Cut it out, Maggie Jenkins,” she yelled. “Just stop it right now. You are acting so ridiculous, it’s a crime.”

      It was amazing, she mentally rushed on, how asinine a person could behave, think, feel, when they were totally exhausted. That, of course, was the explanation for what had happened. Overreaction due to overfatigue. It was all so simple now that she calmed down and thought about it like a rational human being.

      At least no one had been aware of how silly she’d behaved while performing in her role of the bride. Well, Reverend Mason had given her and Luke a rather inquisitive look, but everyone else had been oblivious to the nonsense between them.

      Well, that was probably not even accurate. Luke had been doing a stand-in thing for his brother, nothing more. She was the one who had gotten all wiggy and weird, not him. Luke had just been pretending to be Robert and seeing her as Ginger. End of story.

      Maggie flicked on her blinker and followed the cars into the parking lot of the restaurant.

      She’d nibble a bit of dinner, she thought, then be on her way home to bed as quickly as was socially acceptable. Everything was fine. Just fine. She was erasing what had happened from her beleaguered mind. So there.

      As the chattering group entered the restaurant, Robert pulled Luke to one side and spoke to his older brother in a quiet voice.

      “Luke, my man,” Robert said,