Chapter SeventeenEmily’s heart beat like a timpani in Bach’s Christmas Oratorio. Across the sanctuary, Gerard stood next to the priest whose serene expression belied the seriousness of their situation. She tugged at the skirt of her borrowed suit and nibbled her lower lip. The ladies treated her like a normal bride-to-be, giggling and smiling as they helped her prepare for her nuptials.
Convinced she would arrive, the woman had everything ready for her, including a blue ribbon tied around the flower stems. Apparently, somewhere along the way, they’d learned about the English tradition. With lightning speed, they produced her outfit and swept her hair into an elegant chignon, then pinned the small hat on top. The bouquet, clutched between her damp palms, was a collection of pink, yellow, a
