Starlit

Jemma stared up at the last handful of the night’s stars. They were like sequins of silver sprinkled on the blackest of canvases. Perfectly and brilliantly placed. It was five in the morning and Jemma was too full of the jitters to sleep. She was brewing coffee and thinking of how the yard was so picturesque. Out there, were two hundred chairs arranged almost like a perfect orchestral set up; each chair with a swag of coral and white satin ribbon draped over its back. The thick grass was cut impeccably. The oak trees waited patiently with the weeping willows to see today’s affair.

The groomsmen would be on their way in an hour, or three. Of course, they had been out celebrating Spencer’s last night of ‘freedom’. As long as Spencer’s best man has the rings, she refused to worry about them at all today.

The bridesmaids would be up soon, all giddy with excitement. Trailing up and down the stairs like four Wee Willie Winkies in their nightgowns; all holding instruments of torture such as mascara wands, nail glue, eyeliner pencils with dangerous endpoints or eyelash applicators. They would be leaving a puffy trail of powders and blushes all along the away.

The flower girl would wake up with the energy of a little star following her own orbit all over the house until showtime. Later, she would spill punch on her dress and eat too much cake, Jemma was certain of it. Then, she would fall asleep on her favorite uncle’s shoulder as the night went on.

The matron of honor, Emileigh, had a perfectly fantastic outbreak of eczema on her hands at this time yesterday and it was unbelievable that she had single-handedly put this day’s basic arrangements in place. Chairs, cake, cupcakes, hor d'oeuvres, tables, ribbons; invitations (printed, sealed, and delivered). Plus, printed thank you cards and made the cutest wedding favors, which Spencer’s sister had chosen. Jemma hoped her matron had summoned up enough energy to soak her hands in oatmeal last night to ease the itch, but she doubted the woman did anything more than crash onto a bed upstairs.

 Like in a fairytale the scent of all the flowers were in everyone’s hair, it just had to be true. Jemma wanted to run through the house sniffing each person’s hair to test her theory. She had to be correct, they slept in a house full of jasmine and roses all night like little maiden fairies in a giant floral bloom.

Jemma was taking in everything as the sun began to tease the dew with its light, bounding through coral and copper-toned clouds. If only the photographer were here to capture this beautiful sunrise. The first morning of forever with Spencer.

Jemma was surprised at the perfection of her wedding day. The sun was there for them the whole day. There was a gentle breeze but not so blustery that the photographer couldn’t get good shots of the entire wedding party. The flowers looked just as perky as they did when they were placed everywhere a few hours earlier. Not a single person seemed unpleased with the refreshments or the music. The maître de, Nick, was brilliantly charming with everyone and his timing was spot on. Obviously not his first rodeo, as they say.

The punch was perfect with a slight tingle of carbonation but not enough to cause undue amounts of belching. Emileigh once again was apparently meant to organize weddings. The cake was stunning, and the cupcakes were moist. What could Jemma say? Perfection. Like it had been bottled up for the day, labeled with Jemma’s name and saved. The only thing that wasn’t perfect was the lack of a father on her special day. She had to walk down the aisle herself with no one to give her away, but she didn’t let that put a damper on anything. It wasn’t anyone’s fault-not hers, not his, nor her mom’s. And on the lighter side, she should have had one less coffee before the ceremony, but that was a minor inconvenience compared to what happens to some unsuspecting brides.

Jemma watched people dance and sing. There had been no greater day of joy in her entire life. This was exactly how it would be remembered by her for decades to come. When she and Spencer have fights, and she knew they would, then they would reach for the photos of this very day and smile, remembering to cherish what they started. Recalling how perfectly happy the day had made them.

As the day ended Jemma kissed Spencer and as they looked at each other she could have sworn she saw the stars reflecting in his eyes. She heard him say: “You will be loved as long as the stars shine at night and the sun glows during the day. That’s how long I will love you, Jemma.”

As they left the house in the rented limo, she was a new woman. She was proudly Mrs. Spencer Thallon. They rounded the first curve as a married couple, so full of life, thrilled at what they had just accomplished. Like two children with a secret, they beamed at each other while rose petals still fluttered in their hair. Just as they were rounding the second curve from the house, the crowd that was left at the party heard a loud crash. A driver who had been passing them, he must have misjudged his distance from them, sideswiping their car. Their vehicle was stopped by a grand old oak tree in the nearby field. As Jemma looked to her left side, she saw Spencer was bleeding from his head and unconscious. She felt warmth rush down the side of her face, she gradually realized her own head was bleeding too. Then Spencer came to with Jemma feeling a rush of relief. She felt light-headed as she looked out at the night stars and then she could have sworn they twinkled a little extra just for her.