Chapter 5
Zackary woke up before the alarm.
He moved quietly, probably thinking I was still asleep. With my eyes closed, I heard him wash up, change clothes, open and close drawers.
After a while, he came to the bed and pulled the blanket up for me.
"Jenny," he said.
I opened my eyes.
Zackary was already dressed in a white suit, with the silver whale tail cufflinks I gave him last year for his birthday. He had promised to wear them on our wedding day.
If I hadn't seen those messages, I probably would have been happy right now.
Zackary smiled when he saw I was awake. "Why are your eyes so red? Didn't sleep well last night?"
I shook my head.
He reached out to touch my forehead, then glanced at the stomach medicine on the bedside table.
"Still hurting?" he asked.
"No," I said.
"Don't push yourself," he said. "When we get to the waiting area, make sure you eat something. Today's schedule is packed, so don't go on an empty stomach."
He said all this with that same gentle, patient tone, like last night never happened.
I glanced at the whale tail on his cuff and suddenly asked, "Zackary, do you remember what you're supposed to use to recognize me today?"
He paused for a moment, then smiled.
"The brooch, the vows, and the third wedding yacht," he said.
I picked up the whale tail brooch from beside my pillow.
"What if I don't use it?" I asked.
Zackary raised an eyebrow. "Why are you asking that all of a sudden?"
"Just wanted to see what would happen," I said, closing my hand around the brooch. "Isn't it said that at the lighthouse wedding, true lovers can recognize each other—even through a veil?"
Zackary looked at me, his eyes softening.
"Even if you don't wear it, I'll still recognize you," he said.
His voice was steady.
I picked up the vow card and wrote a line on the back.
Zackary tried to look, but I blocked his view.
"It's a secret," I said.
I folded the card and tucked it into the little pocket I'd sewn inside the cuff of my dress last night. There was also a small piece of blue thread hidden there.
It was a habit I picked up years ago when Zackary's mother taught me how to mend clothes. Island brides always carried something blue, as if the sea itself was blessing them.
Only he knew about this habit.
Before we left, Zackary got a call.
He walked over to the window and kept his voice down. I didn't look at him, just adjusted my veil in the mirror.
After he hung up, he turned to me and said, "See you at the waiting area."
I nodded.
He walked to the door, then suddenly came back and gave me a hug.
The hug was brief.
"Wait for me," he said.
I didn't answer.
The waiting area was in the white wooden building beneath the lighthouse.
It was still dark outside, but all the brides were already in their wedding dresses, sitting behind their veils in their designated seats. Once they took their places, they couldn't speak, lift their veils, or give any signals.
The grooms had to find their brides using registration info, keepsakes, and familiar little details.
I sat in the third seat.
I wasn't holding the brooch.
The whale tail brooch was stashed deep in my bag.
Inside my cuff, I'd tucked away a piece of blue thread, and on the back of the vow card, I scribbled: [Zackary, this is the third time.]
Outside the window, a row of wedding yachts waited.
The third yacht had a pale blue ribbon tied to it, the color I picked myself. Its canopy was swapped for a creamy white one, and inside the cabin sat a little badge from the local seabird rescue center.
Zackary always said he liked it this way, not like some high-society wedding, but something that felt like home to us.
At 6:20, the first group of grooms entered.
Cheers erupted outside the wooden building.
A staff member reminded us, "Please remain quiet, brides. Unless you're refusing to board, you can't speak or lift your veils."
I lowered my eyes, my palms slick with cold sweat.
When Zackary came in, I heard his footsteps first.
After all these years, I could recognize Zackary's footsteps anywhere. When we were kids, he'd sneak out at night to fetch water for his mom.
Later, working the night shift at the seabird rescue center, he'd always come home with those same quiet, careful steps.
I used to believe that if we were this familiar, nothing could ever tear us apart.
His footsteps stopped right in front of me.
Through the veil, I watched as his hand reached out.
It was long and clean, with an old scar running across the web between his thumb and forefinger.
He didn't reach for me right away.
At that moment, everything around us suddenly went quiet.
I knew he was looking at me.
I also knew that if he leaned in just a little more, he'd spot the blue thread peeking out from my cuff.
I lifted my hand, pretending to adjust my skirt.
Zackary noticed it.
His breath caught for a second.
He gave a quiet laugh.
"Don't be nervous," he said.
Those words were meant for me.