Outside my Frosted Window

Outside my frosted window, a thick blanket of fluffy white powder covers the ground. The icicles hanging just feet from my face tempt me to reach out and grab one of the long spires to use as a popsicle. I barely resist the temptation, remembering how many times Kayah and I got our lips stuck as kids and had to peel them from the ice. Not on my wedding day!

Never being one for romantic fancies, I couldn’t imagine that my wedding would turn into a fantastical winter wonderland. Snow blankets as far as my eyes can see, the fields, the barn. Pillowy cotton balls cling to every tree and bush in our back acres. It’s gorgeous, even if the sun sparkling off the top layer nearly blinds me.

My eyes slide to the finished wedding area with its dark, wooden platform and chairs that thanks to Ash are on solid snow. My best friend was kind enough to compact a large section for me before the sun rose this morning, allowing us to get to work setting out chairs and decorations first thing after breakfast. Those three feet that fell overnight made morning preparations akin to trudging through freezing mud, but the reward of seeing our backyard transitioned into a crystalized panorama for my wedding… worth it.

Since frostbitten temperatures plan to hang around all day, I’m extra happy that we have torches flanking the maroon carpet I’ll walk down. Tradition dictates there are only seven waiting to be lit with fire closer to the ceremony. No matter how many times I argued with my dad that the odd number wouldn’t work, he insisted. Don’t mess with the lucky number seven and a Cherokee man. I laugh remembering the frustration on his face trying to blend his traditional senses with my stubborn, modern side.

And that carpet was another of Dad’s gentle demands. At least it matches the deep wine roses that’ll decorate my bouquet around my favorite flower, the Calla Lily. Dad stood firm on needing the long velvet walkway, though. Although his argument that since I’m his first princess to get married, he wanted to treat me as such, softened my otherwise non-princessy tendencies. Eventually, I’ll admit to him I love the red carpet… just not yet.

Tears sting my eyes for the millionth time today. I push them down, not wanting to be bloodshot when it’s time for Ama to do my make-up. Having my sister as a part of today, making my wedding special, threatens to pull the plug on the waterworks despite my best efforts.

Sniffing, I turn my back on the snow-covered scene outside, enjoying the first quiet moment I’ve had all day. I fought for this lull between the chaos of food prepping and decorating. The hardest part was convincing my mother that I didn’t need the presence of every female member in my family to help me wash up for the wedding.

Thank you, Mom. I’ve been showering successfully for years now.

Chuckling, I shed my fluffy robe and slide on the bedazzled sweats my sisters gifted me at the rehearsal dinner. The soft fuzzy jacket has ‘Bride’ emblazoned in jewels on the back with matching silver stitching across the butt of my pants. Very tacky fashion, but incredibly sweet of my girls. Do people need reminding that they’re a bride on their wedding day?

A knock interrupts my inner mocking of these silly wedding day traditions.

“Come in,” I sing-song, expecting every woman in my family to be on the other side of that door, waiting to attack me with their fluttering preparations.

When the door bangs open, my two sisters, clad in matching red sweats similar to my white ones, sing ‘Going to the chapel’ at the top of their off-key lungs. Both dance into the room with champagne bottles in hand, my mom and Gran following behind with four glasses held aloft… also in matching sweats. The four women turn around in unison—even Gran—and shake their butts to the silly 1960s song. Their backsides announce their titles as maids-of-honor, Mom-of-the-bride, and head-Gran-in-charge. It’s adorable and sweet and hilarious at the same time.

By the time they’re done, I’m laughing so hard it’s difficult to breathe, the stitch in my side doubling me over. Eventually, no one in my family can hold a straight face anymore. They all crumble into a laughing hug around me, my mom’s face blushing from going along with my sister’s silly game I’m sure.

“I love you guys!” I squeeze them all tightly before my sisters pull away to pop our bubbly.

Mom helps Gran sit on the trunk bench at the end of my bed before turning to me and wrapping those thick, motherly arms around my neck. I melt into her warmth while my sisters pass out the glasses of bubbly. When she pulls back, her eyes are brimming the same as mine. Instinctively, Mom’s hand goes to adjust one of my curlers, but a throat clearing behind her stops her efforts to fuss with my hair.

“Mom, leave her alone,” Kayah teases, handing mom her own glass to keep her hands busy. Kayah winks when she earns a put-out look from Mom.

Thankfully, Ama’s clinking glass covers my giggle. “I want to toast to our Evie today and that fine chunk-of-hunk she landed…”

Whack! Gran’s hand connects with Ama’s thigh, which she’s eye level with thanks to her primo resting spot.

“Ow, Gran… jeez. I was joking.” Ama rubs her thigh. Their antics make me laugh harder, earning a grin from my grandmother. “As I was saying… E, everyone in this room couldn’t be happier to have you home. I’m a little jealous,” she admits, pinching an inch in the air with her fingers. “We may be as different as the sun and the moon, but you’re still one of my top people. I respect you. I trust you. And I love you.”

“Wow, Ama… that was… amazing,” I gush.

“Even if you did steal one of the hottest men on the mountain.” She grins at our mother, who’s shaking her head. “But the sacrifice is worth it if he keeps you home with us.” She lifts her glass. “Here’s to love, laughter, and long-.”

“Ama!” My mom screeches, finally interrupting my sister while the rest of us double over with laughter.

I’m the first one to calm myself in the group, so I take over, reaching my glass high. “To family.”

The tings of five glasses mix with feminine chatter from the women I value most in this world. Only Kayah and my mom take their glasses slow, the rest of us downing the first and going in for a refill… much to my mom’s annoyance.

Gran waves away my mom’s playfully chastising look. “Oh, you remember your wedding day, Ana. I practically had to tie you to the chair for your hair, you were so…”

“Drunk?” Ama exclaims. “Was Mama drunk?”

“I was relaxed and a little… excited.” Mama hiccups into her glass with a smile, giving me a hint that maybe she and daddy have been celebrating their daughter’s wedding a little early today.

Ignoring the questioning eyes, Mom steps forward and hands me a dainty, lace handkerchief she had tucked in her pocket. “This, my girl, is the hankie I used on the day I married your father.” She chuckles when all of us cringe in front of her. “Oh, jeez. It’s been washed.” Gently, she folds it into my hand with a smile. “I thought this could be your something borrowed,” she says, planting a kiss on my cheek before Kayah steps forward for her turn.

“This, my favorite sister, is a blue chalcedony crystal to bring you calm and clarity going into your new journey.” She ignores Ama’s tut at the ‘favored sister’ comment. “It’s rumored to ease fear and anxiety and promote communication. That’s key for a happy marriage, right?”

Both Gran and Mom crack up, knowing the many lectures they’ve given us girls about sharing our feelings, even when our teenage hormones made us snipe and gripe at each other. I hug Kayah hard, grinning when I pull back and see her cheeks a toasty pink.

“Ok, Bug, this is your something old.” Gran stands, removing the thin copper bracelet she’s never without. “Your grandfather made this for me on our fortieth wedding anniversary. He said that on our first date he knew it had to be me, so he carved that line from our favorite song into this bracelet and I haven’t taken it off since.”

With a watery smile, she slips the bracelet over my wrist and squeezes my hands. “I knew the first time I saw your Wyatt that it had to be him, so I want you to have this now. And look at it when he bugs the piss outta you because it’s gonna happen. Just cause two people are perfect for each other, doesn’t mean the rides always smooth.” She gently pats my cheek before going back to her seat and holding her glass out to Kayah for a top off. I catch her dabbing the corners of her eyes, but my tough little Gran waves off any of us fussing over her while Kayah fills the rest of us up. Most of our circle's sniffling before Ama steps forward, deciding to bring some levity back.

“Alright, my turn.” Ama reaches under the bed and pulls out a bracelet-sized white box she must have hidden when I was in the shower. Without a word, she hands it over with that cocky grin Ama uses when she’s being naughty. Lifting the lid, I flush hot at the racy, red garter belt nestled in white tissue paper.

“Show us. Show us,” Gran claps, squealing like she didn’t have us all in tears a few minutes ago. Her bark of laughter when I turn the box, showing the lacy garment decorated with tiny bows and little silver bear charms dangling from satin ribbons, turns my face into a tomato. “Ooh, your young man’s gonna love that one.”

“I know. I can’t wait to get the picture of Wyatt’s face when he pulls that thing off with his teeth.” Ama’s giggle matches Gran’s.

“We are not doing that,” I insist. “Throwing the bouquet is one thing. I am not tossing my undergarment at a room full of men in my family.”

“So, you would do it if the men weren’t from your family,” Mom teases, cracking the ladies up further. Mom and Kayah join in on the teasing, much to my annoyance. They’re usually the calm ones.

“We are so getting that photo,” Ama whisper-yells to Gran.

Knowing I won’t win this argument, I grab Ama’s hand, tugging her over to the colorful assortment of products on my dresser. “Time for makeup, oh-wise-one.”

Ama laughs as I plop my butt in the chair where I will transform from ordinary Dr. Eveline Amos, veterinarian badass, to the future Mrs.—although still Dr. because hello student loans—Eveline McAllister.

“Make me beautiful, sister dear.” I grin up at Ama, fully ready to enjoy my sister’s skilled hands in all things girly. “And thank you all for the sweet gifts. Y'all are amazing!” I finger Mom’s hankie, wondering if I’ll need the thing before the wedding even starts.

Gran corrects my wording in her sweet way. “You’re always beautiful, Bug. All three of you are.”

“Thanks, Gran,” we chime in unison. Ama, Kayah, and I turn to flutter eyelashes at our grandmother, giving her the look that used to earn us extra cookies after school.

While Ama does my makeup and Mom unrolls the curlers from my hair, Kayah entertains Gran with stories of our snowy wedding preparations. The whirling wind of early morning is long gone. But the dead calm outside doesn’t stop Kayah’s impression of Ash pushing a snow compactor against the wind any less hilarious. Her teetering walk and twisted face make me feel slightly guilty for how much work my family put into making this day beautiful for me and Wyatt, but it’s quickly washed away by more silliness. Who looked like a deer on ice? And our growing need for hot cocoa and caffeine to survive the outdoor frost.

“At least you’ll have Wyatt to keep you warm tonight,” Ama teases, dabbing the finishing touches to my face. I feel a blush tinting my ears to even think of my wedding night in the same room with Gran and Mom. I don’t care how old I am, it’s going to be hard to look my parents in the eye after I’m married. They’ll know I’ve had sex.

Chills run through my body, imagining telling my dad I’m pregnant one day. Ick.

Ama keeps up her embarrassing innuendos while we get primped and ready in my childhood bedroom. At some point, one of my aunt’s delivers a plate of fry bread with more champagne, kicking our party—and our noise level—up a notch.

Finally, after two hours of pampering, all five of us have exchanged our matching sweats for formal dresses, updo’s, and glittery heeled boots. Except, Mom and Gran, who chose glittery ballet flats, saying we younger girls were crazy for putting torture devices on our feet.

“You should try Spanx sometimes, Gran,” Kayah jokes, squeezing her hands together to mimic choking our ribcages.

“Never gonna happen, young lady.”

I smile at the determined face Gran makes, taking in both my sisters who are ready to go. If I didn’t love them so much, I’d be jealous of how radiant they are in their burgundy A-line dresses. Each dress’s neck and hemline suit the girls’ individual personality, but that color against their tanned skin… the wide silvery sash cinching their waist. It all comes together in a knockout package. Especially when paired with those silver, calf-hugging boots. They’re dressy while still giving a nod to our southern roots.

Glancing down at myself, I’m glad I chose a simpler wedding gown that I can breathe in, especially as the time looms closer to walking down the aisle. Fitted lace overlays my strapless sweetheart neckline, helping me not feel like I’m going to fall out of the dress. It plays peek-a-boo with skin across my collarbone and down to my wrist, enough to entice Wyatt—I hope—but keeping a little modesty and tradition as well for the occasion. My high-low hem will show off our custom footwear and a little leg for Wyatt too.

Knock, knock.

Knowing gazes lock on me as Mom opens the door for my dad, who’s sporting his traditional Cherokee suit with his thick black hair braided down his back. He’s incredibly handsome, though his red-rimmed eyes make mine glass up again as he takes in me from head to toe, fully dressed for my wedding.

Gran walks over, dropping a kiss on both my cheeks before her choked voice whispers. “You will be as happy with that man for all your years as I was with your Gramps, Bug.” Smiling, she grabs my mom’s arm to usher her from the room before we all start blubbering and mess up my makeup.

My sisters give me a thumbs up and file out behind them. Then, it’s just me and Dad left waiting for our time to walk into the snowy oasis. Dad’s smile lights up his whole face, despite his swimming eyes. His support eases some of my anxiety over this huge transition in life.

“We’re so happy to have you home, Eveline. I’d say I’m gonna keep that boy in check, but I’m pretty sure he’s got me there.” We share a laugh, knowing Wyatt’s shifter strength is not something human men can match. The fact that my dad is able to joke about it shows how much he truly trusts Wyatt after everything we’ve been through.

“You’re always going to be my protector, Daddy.” A few tears spill over for us both as he gives me one more solid hug as his little girl. Pulling away, I fan my face, worried about my mascara but also about having frozen water tracks down my face if I step outside while crying. “Stop it! Ama will kill me if I have streaks before I make it down the aisle.” Dad chuckles too and tucks my hand in the crook of his arm.

“Just remember, we are always here for you, Punkin’. Whatever you need.” His callused hand covers mine as we walk out of the house onto our back porch. “But trust me… I wouldn’t be handing you over to someone so quickly if that man hadn’t saved my baby girl once already.” Dad’s dark brown eyes sear into mine with honesty I’ve always valued from him.

“I know, Dad. I know.” Smiling, I pat his hand in return, lifting my head to my handsome savior waiting for me at the end of a fairytale walkway. Wyatt grins as my dad helps me navigate those last few stairs, careful of the ice.

As the bridal march floats through the air and everyone stands, I find Wyatt’s molten eyes locking me in, his magnetism making it impossible to look away as I take that final step onto frozen ground. The crunch under my heel vibrates through my body, but I’m not cold or nervous anymore. I’m floating on the air of happiness, knowing my future is at the end of this walkway.