Chapter 1 - Daddy in the White Chapel
The marble was so cold through my shoes I could feel it in my teeth. I stood in the middle of the white aisle with the baby against my chest, both my arms locked under her blanket, and the daylight coming down through the tall windows made everything too bright to blink away. The flowers over the arch smelled sweet and dusty. People in the rows on both sides turned to stare, and I couldn't look at all of them, so I looked at him.
He was sitting near the front in a black tuxedo with a bow tie, his hands on his knees, and he wasn't smiling like the other grown-ups in pictures. Behind him the bride was already moving. Her white dress caught the light when she stepped fast down the aisle, her veil shaking, her mouth tight. The chandeliers over us threw little spots on the floor that moved when I breathed.
I was eight that morning, and I hadn't slept right in two days.
I remember the weight first. The baby had slid a little low on my cardigan, and the cream of my sweater was damp where her cheek was. Her knit top bunched up under the light pink blanket, and I had to hitch her up without letting go. My left arm shook. I tucked my chin to hold her head still. The thin chain under my dress pressed flat against my skin when I shifted, but I didn't touch it yet. I kept my eyes on the man.
The guests blurred at the edges. Someone coughed. The organ had stopped. I could hear my own breathing too loud, and the baby's little snuffling breath against my neck. His face changed when he saw us, just around the eyes, like he recognized the blanket before he recognized me. The bride came up fast behind his chair, her heels loud on the marble. She didn't look at the flowers or the guests. She looked straight at me.
"Daddy!"
"Get them out of here."
I flinched because she was so close by then. She reached for my arm and then my shoulder, her fingers digging through my cardigan. I twisted sideways to keep the baby out from under her hand and clutched her tighter until my arms burned. The blanket slipped and I caught it with my chin. The windows were too bright behind her veil.
"Go straight."
"No, don't take her."
He stood up so fast his chair scraped. He stepped between us, his back half to the bride and his arm out just in front of me, not touching me yet but close enough I could see the black sleeve of his tuxedo shaking a little. He looked down at me and then at the baby, and his mouth opened.
May you like
"All right, don't touch those children."
Nobody moved after that. The bride's hand was still in the air where my shoulder had been. The guests went quiet in a way that hurt my ears. The baby fussed and rooted against my chest, and I bounced her without thinking, still holding on. My right hand started to slip free from under the blanket, down toward the neckline of my dress where the chain was hiding warm against me, while he kept staring and hadn't said my name yet.
