InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity Redux: Metempsychosis ❯ Vows ( Chapter 86 )

"An' Sesshoumaru turned him into a giant rock an' made him 'splode!"

Biting her lip since she wasn't nearly as excited about Kells' story as Kells was, Jessa rubbed her belly.  For some reason, it was feeling a little out of sorts, almost a little nauseous, probably because the only thing she'd had to eat so far was a couple bites of soda bread and a tepid cup of tea.  "I'm glad he was there," she said, forcing a smile as she ruffled the lad's hair.  "Your da was probably scared out of his mind."

"Daddy's not scared of nothing!" Kells insisted, eyes widening , as though the very idea of Ashur being afraid had never, ever occurred to him.

"It's 'anything', and sometimes even daddies can be scared.  I would have been scared.  I would have been terrified . . ."

"Why?"

She smiled.  "Because you're the most precious thing on earth to your da—and to me.  That's why."

A soft knock on the door interrupted the moment as Kells hopped up off the stool he was sitting on and skittered over to open it.  Nora peeked inside and smiled.  "I'm not interrupting, am I?"

"Oh, no," Jessa insisted, smiling at her aunt, giving her a careful hug so that she didn't wrinkle her dress too much.

"Master Kells, your father is looking for you," Nora said.

The lad's eyes grew round, and he tugged the heavy door open to let himself out of the room.

"That boy . . ." Jessa mused with a smile.  Then she grimaced, pressing her hand against her stomach once more.

"What's the matter, lass?" Nora asked, brow furrowing in alarm as Jessa waved a hand quickly.

"I'm fine," she insisted.  "Just a little hungry, I guess . . ."

A strange kind of look passed over her aunt's face, but she sighed.  "Didn't you eat that tray I sent up to your room this morning?"

Jessa wrinkled her nose.  "I bit.  I was so excited, though . . ."

Nora didn't look impressed with Jessa's reason, and she shook her head.  "I'll be right back," she insisted.  "I think the caterers are setting up in the reception room, so they may have something . . ."

Jessa opened her mouth to protest, but her aunt quickly ducked out of the room, and she sighed instead.

They'd rented a local chapel, complete with a very cozy reception room, for the wedding.  It wasn't very big, but it was so quaint, so warm and welcoming, that Jessa had loved it upon first sight.  With the old stone work, the rich and heavy wood trims, even the beautiful stained glass windows, it reminded her of the old chapels that dotted the countryside back home, and the long breezeway that connected the chapel with the reception room was a gorgeous area.  The travertine floors, the marble pillars that spiraled up to a vaulted ceiling with wide plate windows, giving the illusion that one was outside, even when they weren't, with a beautiful aquarium built under the glass floor that ran the length of the walkway, dotted by soft garden lamps, fashioned of very old, very worn wrought iron, blackened with age . . .

Ivory flowers of all kinds had been fashioned into long garlands, wrapped around each of the pillars, adorning the marble and iron benches.  She hadn't had enough time to properly inspect the florist's work, but Carol had assured her that it was all exactly as she wanted for the pictures later on, and the reception room?

Just the thought of that particular area brought a dreamy little smile to her face.  It was fashioned to look like a giant gazebo, large enough to easily accommodate a hundred people or more.  Considering their entire guest list was around thirty, there was also plenty of room for the festivities to follow, including the string quartet that Jessa had hired.

Now, however, she was feeling just a little anxious, and as much as she was looking forward to this day, she had to admit that she was also looking forward to it all being over, too.

Carol slipped into the room with a radiant smile, the skirt of her ivory silk dress, rustling quietly as she hurried over to hug Jessa.  Then she turned her around, held onto her shoulders as she stared at Jessa in the standing oval mirror.

Her gown was a simple A-line/princess styled confection of flowing chiffon, held up by a couple thin straps despite the cascading ruffle sleeves.  The front of the full, but simple skirt just brushed the tips of her satin shoes, but the long, trailing ends of the waist tie in back dragged along behind her.  It was understated and elegant, nothing elaborate, and somehow, entirely perfect, and the only jewelry she wore to add embellishment was the fire stone necklace that Ashur had helped Kells make that exactly matched her engagement ring . . .

Fussing with an errant lock of hair that had already escaped the careful arrangement that had been drawn up on the sides and secured in place with delicate enamel combs, adorned with the tiniest white satin pedals, Carol sighed and then laughed.  "It's not going to stay up through the reception," she warned.

Jessa nodded.  "That's all right.  Ashur likes it down, anyway."

Carol gave her shoulders a reassuring squeeze.  "You're gorgeous, you know."  Then she made a face.  "Oh, now, don't cry!  You'll ruin your makeup!"

Reaching for a tissue from a box on the small table nearby, Jessa sniffled.  "I can't help it!" she squeaked, blotting at her eyes, grimacing at the traces of eyeliner that came away on the tissue.  "I don't know why I feel so emotional . . ."

Carol laughed.  "Because it's your wedding day," she told her.  "And it's almost time, so you really need to stop crying . . ."

Choking out a sound caught somewhere between a sob and a laugh, Jessa turned around, hugged Carol tight.

"Absolutely not!  It's bad luck, I tell you!  You're not coming in, and—"

"That's nothing but silly superstition, and I only need to see her for a minute, Nora.  I—"

"Life is hard enough without adding more bad luck, superstition or not.  You'll see her soon, anyway, so—"

Jessa sniffled and uttered a terse laugh.  "It's okay, Nora," she called, setting the cup of tea aside.  "I don't believe in that sort of thing, anyway, and . . . and I'd like to see him, if you don't mind."

Her aunt looked less than pleased by Jessa's statement, but she stepped aside with a very pronounced 'hrumph' as she slipped a cup of tea into Jessa's hands.

Ashur stepped into the room, but stopped short, mouth falling open as he stared at her.  He looked absolutely stunning—if that was the right way to put it—wearing the slate grey tuxedo that he'd ordered for the wedding, his golden-brown ponytail, laying over his shoulder, eyes the exact shade of the mellow summer skies.  For some reason, seeing him in his finery made her feel a little shy.  Even so, she stepped toward him, reaching out to fuss with the single ivory rosebud affixed to his lapel.  "You wanted to see me?" she asked softly.

Ashur blinked, seemed to shake off the reverie that he'd been caught up in, as the barest hint of a blush crept into his cheeks, and he smiled.  "I . . . made something for you," he admitted almost sheepishly.

"Oh?"

Letting out a deep breath, he drew a bouquet of stone flowers from behind his back, and Jessa gasped, eyes widening as she slowly, hesitantly, reached out to take it.  "This is . . . You made this . . ."

He shrugged and leaned down to kiss her cheek.  "You mentioned moonflowers," he muttered, seeming almost embarrassed.  "If you don't want to use it, that's fine.  I just thought . . ."

Reaching up with one hand, she leaned up to kiss him gently.  "I love them," she said.  "Thank you."

He finally smiled, running his fingertips down her jaw as he stared at her for another long moment.  Then he sighed.  "I better get down there," he told her, "before Dev comes looking for me, anyway."

She laughed as he stepped back, sparing her one last, long, lingering look before he let himself out of the room.

Carol hurried over to look at Ashur's gift.  "Wow, those look real," she remarked.

Jessa nodded, gently touching the delicate petals.  A lovely arrangement of the rare moonflowers—the flowers that weren't possible to use, given how quickly they died.  Ashur had made her a full bouquet of them, and every last detail was so ornate, so life-like, that it was hard to believe that they were really fashioned out of stone . . . Wrapped in a layer of lace and satin and ribbon that matched her dress, the ethereal beauty they possessed was haunting, right down to the glimmer, the sheen, of every petal—petals so whisper-thin that she could see the light from the window passing right through them . . .

"That is a man in love," Nora remarked, her gaze softening as Jessa smiled at the bouquet in her hands, brushed a single tear from her cheek.  "We haven't much time," she went on, digging into her pocket.  "But your mother . . . She wanted you to have this on your wedding day . . ."

Jessa blinked, let Carol take her bouquet as she accepted the small parcel, wrapped in nondescript brown paper.  "What's this?"

Nora smiled a little sadly.  "Orlie asked me to give this to you on your wedding day," she admitted.

Pulling the small white envelope, Jessa grimaced when she saw her mother's neat script inside the plain card.  'Carry this on your wedding day, Jessa.  Something old . . . Love forever, Ma.'  With trembling fingers, she tore the paper away, only to wince at the sight of the intricate and beautiful Irish lace kerchief. . .

"What's that, Ma?"

Orlaith smiled at four-year-old Jessa, who was sitting neatly on the edge of the bed, watching her mother dress for the fancy dinner that she wasn't allowed to attend, but that her parents were.  "This?  This is a kerchief, Jessa—a very special kerchief.  Your . . . Your grandmother—my ma—she made it for me . . . for my wedding day . . . And one day, when you marry, you'll carry it, too, if you like."

"May I?"

Orlaith laughed and quickly kissed her cheek as she tucked the kerchief into her pocket.  "Of course, my lamb . . ."

Nora sighed and carefully turned Jessa's face, gently dabbed away the tears that the memory inspired.  "She never wanted you to cry, lass."

Jessa sniffled, taking the bouquet back from Carol, holding it, along with the kerchief, before her.  "I know," she replied.

Nora smiled, pausing for a long moment to give her a critical look, her own gaze brightening suspiciously.  Finally, though, she gave herself a mental shake, waved her hands to hurry them all along.   "Come now, Jessa.  Time to see you married!"

Jessa walked down the aisle, holding onto the hand of a fidgeting three-year-old boy who looked entirely proud to be the one escorting his mommy, and Ashur smiled, meeting Jessa's gaze through the sheer veil, her eyes bright, her smile brighter.

"Far better than you deserve," Devlin murmured beside him.

Ashur nodded.

"Did I do good, Daddy?" Kells asked in a loud whisper that sparked a rumble of subdued laughter in the church as the sounds of the harpist, playing Sí Bheag, Sí Mhór, or Small Fairy, Big Fairy, softly faded away.

Ashur chuckled and ruffled Kells' hair.  "You did," he told him.  "Now, go stand with Dev for a little bit."

Kells did as he was told, but only after insisting that Jessa kiss him on the cheek, which she was more than happy to do.  Only then did he skitter over to stand next to Devlin as Ashur reached for Jessa's trembling hand.

"Dearly beloved, we have gathered here on this day to bear witness to and to celebrate the joining of this man and this woman, Ashur and Jessamyn, into the state of holy matrimony.  Is there anyone here who has just reason, why these two should not be wed?  If so, speak now or forever hold your peace."

Thankfully, no one did speak up, which was all well and good, considering Ashur might well have killed someone if they had.  Now that the big moment was here, though, he couldn't quite help the wish that the good pastor would hurry it along a little bit.  Expounding on the virtues of marriage, the poor man didn't realize that everyone in attendance either was youkai or hanyou or had ties to one, and they, better than anyone, understood those things instinctively.

"Now, Ashur and Jessamyn have written their own vows," the pastor said, holding out his hands toward them.

Ashur cleared his throat as Jessa handed her bouquet to Carol.  "Jessa . . ." He sighed.  He already knew what he'd written.  He'd read it over enough that he'd memorized it.  The thing was, he wasn't really great with words.  They'd failed him often enough in the past.  Even so, this one time . . . "I never thought that I'd find you.  I gave up, looking for you, long ago, or maybe I never really tried.  I . . . I thought that I was the last person who truly deserved the kind of happiness—the kind of contentment—that you've brought into my life, and you did it without ever asking me for anything in return.  For every smile, every laugh, every tear, every second that you looked at me, that you saw something that I'll never understand . . . I thank you, and I . . . I promise you that I will share everything with you because you'll be more than my wife.  You'll be my entire world—you and the family we create together."

She choked out a little half-sob, blinking rapidly to stave off the tears that he could smell, but this time, it was all right, wasn't it?  They were happy tears, and he knew that, too . . .

"Ashur . . . When I met you, I was lost in every sense of the word, and it wasn't your responsibility to find me, but you did.  You found me, and you led me back, and you never let me go, even when I . . . when I was too frightened to believe.  You are everything I'm not, and I want to grow with you in a lifetime of laughter and love and even tears . . . You've given me so much, and you've done it because that's who you are.  You are love—my love—my sunrise, my midday, my sunset, my night . . ."

He smiled at her, gave her hand a little squeeze, started to turn to face the pastor once more, but Jessa cleared her throat before letting go of his hand, before grasping her skirt as she knelt and held her hands out to Kells.  The boy giggled and bounced over to her, and she smiled as she touched his cheek, as she tucked his hair behind his ear.  "And Kells . . . I will never be the perfect Ma.  I'm young, and I . . . I'm still learning, but . . . But I promise you, a chroí—my heart—that I will always love you, and that I will always put you first . . . and I will always, always be your ma."

Kells giggled again, throwing himself into her arms, and Jessa sniffled, hugging him tight for a long moment.  "Don't cry, Mommy," he said, grasping her face, veil and all, with his tiny hands.  "I love you, too, Mommy!"

She choked out a laugh and gave him another quick hug before she accepted Ashur's hand to help her to her feet once more.  Then he nodded at Kells, who darted back over to stand beside Devlin once more.

She took the handkerchief that Ashur offered her, reaching up under the veil to dab at her eyes.

The pastor smiled indulgently, waited for her to pull herself together, before clearing his throat.  "Do you have rings?"

Ashur turned, took the ring that Devlin held out to him while Jessa took the one from Carol.

"Ashur Kyouhei Philips, do you take this woman, Jessamyn Rose Orlaith O'Shea, to be your wife: to have and to hold from this day forward and forsaking all others to cleave only unto her for as long as you both shall live?"

He cleared his throat, forcing down the suspect thickness that had gathered.  "I do."

"Take the ring and place it on her finger."

Ashur slipped it over her knuckle.

The pastor's smile widened.  "And do you, Jessamyn Rose Orlaith O'Shea, take this man, Ashur Kyouhei Philips, to be your husband: to have and to hold from this day forward and forsaking all others to cleave only unto him for as long as you both shall live?"

"I do," she murmured.

"Then take the ring and place it on his finger."

She did, and he chuckled.

"Then, by the power vested in me by the province of Quebec, I now pronounce you husband and wife.  Would you like to kiss your bride?"

His hands were shaking just a little as he lifted her veil, as he pulled it back over her head.  Jessa rose on her tiptoes, meeting him halfway as he slipped his arms around her, as he kissed her—the sweetest kiss, the wash of emotion, enough to humble him, and yet, long before he was ready to end it, he forced himself to do so, dropping his forehead against hers, just for a moment.  "I love you," he murmured.

Her smile was positively radiant.  "I love you, too."

Extending his hands, indicating that they should turn around, to face their assembled family and friends, the pastor chuckled.  "Ladies and gentlemen, it is my absolute honor and privilege to present to you Mr. Ashur and Mrs. Jessamyn Philips!"

"So . . . lost your wife already, have you?" Ben asked, slipping into the conspicuously empty chair beside Ashur at the table arranged strictly for the bride, groom, best man, maid of honor, and Kells.

Settling back in his seat, Ashur chuckled.  They'd already shared their first dance to a beautiful Irish song, Carolan's Dream after spending a good forty-five minutes, posing for pictures in the breezeway.  Instead of confining them to the wedding party, however, they'd opted to incorporate everyone in attendance, featuring pictures with the bride and the children, with the women, with family on both sides . . .  pictures of Ashur in much the same way.  After those were finished, she’d told him that she needed to change and had hurried away.  That was about ten minutes ago, and Ashur had been happy enough to sit down and accept the well-wishes from those in attendance while he waited for her.

"She said she wanted to change," he replied.

Ben chuckled.  "Or she just said that so that she could slip out the back way."

Ashur grunted.  "Not even you could ruin my mood today, Ben, though you're welcome to keep trying."

Charity slipped into the chair on Ashur's other side.  "Ben, you'd better not be picking on the groom on his wedding day," she warned.

Ben winked at his mate.  "Wouldn't dream of it."

Before Charity could respond, a sudden hush fell over the room, spearheaded by the abrupt end of the song that the string quartet was playing, and Ashur broke into a smile when he saw why.

Jessa strode forward, stopping in the middle of the dance floor facing him with Emmeline on one side and Nadia on her other one, but that wasn't what made him smile.  She'd changed out of her wedding dress, only to put on another dress that looked exactly the same, except the skirt had been modified into a mini skirt that brushed mid-thigh.  Under that, she wore black tights and a pair of black Irish hard shoes.  The twins were dressed in much the same way, and Charity giggled.  "So, that's why Jessa wanted to buy their dresses," she mused.

Jessa let go of the girls' hands, letting her arms drop to her sides as she crossed one foot behind the other, toes resting on the floor, while the girls mirrored her stance.

The song that started was a classic Irish tune, full of bounce and rhythm, and Ashur clapped when the three started to dance.

"Oh!  I didn't realize she taught them how to dance like that!" Charity breathed, staring at her daughters with her gaze alight with all the pride in the world.  The girls' golden hair, pulled up high on both sides in the cutest little piggy tails that bobbed up and down with the hopping motion of the dance.  Tiny feet managing intricate steps, the light thump of their shoes, hitting the floor in unison, they smiled so brightly, absolutely having the time of their lives.

Jessa flicked her heels, turning, kicking, perfectly in time with the twins.  The little ones hopped back, scuffing their shoes against the floor, thumping the toes of their left feet over their right and stopping while Jessa scooted forward, feet keeping perfect time to the music.

She danced by herself, feet moving just a little faster with a little more complexity, shoes cracking on the floor with every step, every bounce.   Careful, measured hops and kicks, the flirt of her skirt, flowing around her, fluttering out, dropping down again in time with her movements.

Feet flying so quickly that they seemed to blur at times, she met his gaze, smiled, just for him, and he chuckled softly as that sense of his stomach, tightening, only to release with a flash of sensation surged through him, just like it had been, the very first time she'd smiled at him . . .

And then, Jessa hopped back, stopping between the twins, and Ashur laughed when Kells skipped forward, hands clasped behind his back.  He turned to face his father, feet keeping time with the steady pace of the music, flipping his heel outward and then straight.  The twins danced forward on either side of Kells, all three of them, dancing in perfect syncopation as Jessa joined in behind them.

Everyone in the room was clapping along, thoroughly enjoying the entertainment while Jessa danced with the children.  "You're not going to join them?" Ben asked, raising an eyebrow at his brother.

Ashur chuckled.  "I'd ruin it," he said.

Charity glanced up from her phone—she was filming it.  "That's the cutest thing I think I've ever seen," she murmured.  "Mama and Papa will love this!"

Ashur stood as the four of them ended the dance with a flourish, a hearty stomp to the last note of the song, clapping as he stepped around the table.  Kells darted over to him, grabbed his father's legs as he peered up at him anxiously.  "Were we good, Daddy?" he asked.

With a soft laugh, Ashur scooped up the boy.  "You were terrific, Kells," he assured him.

Kells squealed happily, bouncing in Ashur's arms.  "It was a surprise!" he exclaimed.

"Yes, well, you'd better get that out of your system," Ashur warned.  "We've got a long time on that plane soon."

"'Cause we're going to moon!"

Barking out a terse laugh, Ashur shook his head.  "Honeymoon, Kells . . . Mooning is something entirely different . . ."

"I wanna go play now, Daddy . . ."

Ashur kissed his temple, then let him down.  "Behave yourself."

He darted off, waving a hand over his shoulder as he sped over to Cain's twin sons, who were stomping around, obviously trying to mimic the dance they'd just seen.

"So, I've danced with my son," Jessa remarked, slipping her hand under his elbow.  "What about his da?"

He chuckled and offered her a slight bow.  "Before that . . ."

"What?"

Digging into the inner pocket of his jacket, he pulled out a folded document and handed it over.

She shot him a curious glance before carefully unfolding it, and when she read the first line, she gasped.  "It's . . ."

"You're Kells' mom now in every single way," he told her.

She choked out a soft sob, smothering the sound with her hand over her lips as she stared at the birth certificate that Sesshoumaru had brought with him from Japan.  As the Inu no Taisho, he was able to fill in the blank where Kells' mother should have been listed.  It was all official.

He chuckled, stepping forward, pulling her into a warm hug.  "Will you be all right?" he asked, rubbing her back as she sniffled, as she struggled not to cry.

She nodded, and he sighed since she was nowhere near under control, but he supposed he could understand that.

"Wow, making her cry already?  That's terrible, Ash.  Really awful."

Ashur grunted, but smiled.  "You're still here, Broughton?"

Devlin laughed, hands dug deep into the pockets of his trousers.  "How about it, Irish?  Care to dance?  I swear I'll not make you cry."

Jessa choked out a laugh, dabbing at her eyes with Ashur's kerchief that he'd handed to her during the wedding ceremony.  "Well, I . . ."

Ashur took the birth certificate and stowed it back into his pocket once more.  "Return her when you're done," he said.

Jessa smiled at him before allowing Devlin to take her hand and lead her off to dance.

"Congratulations."

Turning to smile as Gin Zelig stopped beside him, Ashur nodded.  "Thank you."

She laughed.  "I'm so happy for the both of you!  And Jessa . . . Just beautiful!"

"She is," he agreed.

Gin sighed in a dreamy kind of way, golden eyes shining gently.

"Would you care to dance?"

Gin nodded and allowed Ashur to lead her off to dance.  "So, do you have any more advice for me?" he asked as he slipped his arms around her, holding her at a respectable distance.

She stared at him, her brows coming together as she considered his question.  And then, she smiled, her effervescence, radiating from deep down inside her.  "Look for something every day that you two can laugh about," she said.  "Even on days when you don't feel like laughing—especially on those days."

"That's . . . good advice," he decided.

She giggled and leaned closer.  "It wasn't mine," she whispered.

"Oh?"

Shaking her head, she wrinkled her nose, but her smile didn't fade.  "My uncle, Souta told me that once, and I love to laugh, so . . ."

"It's still good advice," he said.

She nodded, her gaze slipping over to light on Jessa, who was laughing at whatever Devlin had just said to her.  "Ashur?"

"Hmm?" he intoned, following the direction of her stare.

Gin bit her lip, shot him a quick glance before looking at Jessa once more.  "Never let her go."

Ashur chuckled, smile widening when Jessa glanced at him, only to stop, to blush just a little, her eyes sparkling, bright.  "Oh, I don't think that'll be a problem," he said.  "Not now, not ever . . ."