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“I’m
coming, I’m coming,” called Anne Roberts, bustling into the kitchen,
brandishing a pen. “Where do I sign?”
Her
husband was hunched over, writing his name on a document. He finished, stood
and looked at his wife.
“I’ve
never been a witness to a marriage before. I mean not in the legal sense. I
mean signing my name and all.”
“Anne,
you’re cute. You signed our marriage license,” Mr. Roberts said.
“Oh,
yes, that’s right. I did.” She colored a becoming shade of pink. “Where should
I?”
“Right
here, Missus,” John said, pointing to a line with an “x” on it.
“Very
good, John. Thank you.”
The
butler took Maggie’s hand and gave it a squeeze. His eyes glowed as he glanced
at her.
“There
you go,” Anne said, straightening up.
“Congratulations,”
Mr. Roberts said, shaking John’s hand. Anne gave them each a hug.
“Here’s
a little something for the wedding,” the master of the house said, slipping a
check into John’s hand.
“Thank
you, sir. It’s official, my lady. We’re married, ceremony or no,” John
chuckled.
Maggie
picked at a tissue in her hand. Her eyes watered with happiness and fear.
Anne
handed a bottle of champagne to her husband. He poured four glasses.
“To
a long and happy life together,” he said, raising his flute.
What happens when
John finds out what I’ve done?
Maggie’s
stomach clenched.
