23. Epilogue: Michael

Epilogue – Michael

E ighteen months later…

I stood at the front of Olga’s family’s church, nervously tugging at the collar of the starched white shirt I wore underneath my black suit. My stomach churned with nerves, making me shift back and forth on my feet.

Behind me, Olga’s brother-in-law Jayden nudged me. I’d spent a lot of time with him and Alona since Olga and I officially got together, and we’d gotten to be pretty good friends. Good enough friends that I made him my best man for the wedding.

“Just so you know, if you run, my brothers and I are prepared to chase you down, cut you into a dozen pieces, and throw your sorry carcass into Lake Michigan.”

The entire Oliver clan had turned up for the wedding, filling up two rows of seats. I turned and gave my future brother-in-law a wry look.

“While I appreciate the amount of effort you’ve spent planning my death, Mr. Pavlenko will kill me first. Besides, Olga and I have been living together for more than two years and we have a child together, I wasn’t planning to run.”

“Ah, so you’re nervous she’ll be the one to run?” he asked. “Don’t worry, Alona won’t let her skip the ceremony. You know their mother’s already upset that you waited so long to get married. If Alona lets her get away, her mama will never forgive her.”

“I’m just nervous I’ll mess something up,” I explained. “These Ukrainian Orthodox ceremonies are so different than what I’m used to.”

Olga and I hadn’t particularly cared where we got married. We would have been perfectly satisfied going down to the courthouse or getting married in the park, but her mother had been adamant that we get married in their church. Mrs. Pavlenko had pressured me to convert to their religion, but I’d stayed firm on that one. Fortunately, since I was baptized in another Christian church, I could still marry Olga in a Ukrainian Orthodox ceremony without having to convert.

Jayden chuckled at my worry about the ceremony.

“Yeah, when Alona and I got married, I didn’t understand the crown part. The priest put it on my head, and when I turned to look at Alona, I managed to send it crashing to the floor.”

I heard a shush and looked over to see Mrs. Pavlenko giving us a warning glare. She shook her head and pressed her pointer finger against her lip in a clear warning to shut up. Next to her, our daughter Sofia was sound asleep on the bench, her stuffed bear clutched in one arm. She’d just turned one, and she was the light of my life.

Everyone quieted as music began to play, some sort of Orthodox hymn that sounded a little too solemn for a wedding. The entire event had been a negotiation, with Olga’s parents wanting a more traditional wedding while Olga and I wanted something more modern.

Fortunately the priest we’d chosen was younger, and after growing up here in Chicago, he was well versed in how to Westernize the ceremony enough to work for the bride and groom while still maintaining the most important religious aspects.

The priest proceeded down the aisle and joined us at the front, then the music changed, and Alona appeared in the doorway. Olga’s maid of honor was wearing a dark green dress that matched Jayden’s tie and a huge smile. Once she got to the altar, she sent me a wink as she took her place on the other side of the priest.

Then the music changed again. Olga had been adamant about wanting Wagner’s wedding march for her entrance. It wasn’t the norm for these Orthodox ceremonies, but since the priest had approved it, her mother was okay with it as well.

I caught my breath as my love entered the church on the arm of her father. I felt a wave of love for her that was so strong it was almost painful. Olga was wearing a simple white wedding dress that hugged her curves. They were more generous now that she’d given birth, but she was still stunning.

We were fortunate that despite Olga being, as the doctor called it, ‘a geriatric pregnancy’, both the pregnancy and Sofia’s birth had gone perfectly. Our daughter was born right on time, healthy as a horse. Olga and I were loving being parents, and our little girl was surrounded by a big, loving family, just as we both wanted.

After we broke the news about the pregnancy and shared that we were engaged, it had been a bit of a battle with Olga’s parents about the wedding date. They’d tried to insist that we get married right away, but Olga felt strongly that she wanted to wait until the pregnancy and breast feeding was done first.

Of course I supported my fiancée. She’d made a commitment to me that day she’d accepted my ring, so the wedding ceremony itself was just a formality as far as I was concerned.

Mr. Pavlenko kissed Olga on the cheek, gave me a nod, then went to join his wife in the front row. I took Olga’s hand and moved close enough to whisper in her ear.

“Are you ready to finally make this official?”

She turned her head so she could see my face. “I’m ready if you are.”

“I’ve been ready to marry you since kindergarten,” I told her. “That’s why I brought you this as a token of my love for you.”

I pulled a wrapped twinkie out of the jacket of my suit, and Olga burst out laughing, earning us another glare from her mother.

“You really know how to make a girl happy,” she winked.

“Being with you makes me happy,” I countered. “You and Sofia.”

Her smile could power the entire city of Chicago. “In that case, let’s get married Mikey.”

***