Chapter 37

Whole Again

S tella gazed up at the silent bells of the Church of St Helena and St Mary as the chilled November breeze nipped her cheeks. Family and friends from RAF Bourn and from Mac’s base at Bassingbourn filed into the church to take their seats. Mr Thompson opened the door as Stella stepped out of the sleek black Austin Princess, accompanied by her Uncle Bill.

‘Thank you, Mr Thompson.’ Stella smiled at the elderly man. He was a friend and neighbour of Mrs Brown and had generously offered to drive her to the church today.

‘Stella, I thought you’d never get here.’ Vera emerged from the church, holding up her long, pink dress so as not to trip over it. ‘You’re cutting it fine.’

‘Is everyone here?’

‘Everyone who needs to be, love.’ Vera winked. ‘Don’t you worry. My Sam’s been keeping an eye on him.’

Stella’s heart leapt. The big day was finally here, and her man was waiting just a short walk away. She swallowed.

‘Ready, Stella?’ Uncle Bill held out his arm, his mouth curved up into a smile. ‘Your dad would be right proud of you, lass.’

A lump rose in her throat as tears rushed to her eyes. She blew out a breath as Vera arranged the train of her dress. ‘Thanks for being here, Uncle Bill.’ She placed her hand on his arm and gazed down at her bouquet of pink carnations and fern as she caught the scent of their subtle sweet perfume on the breeze.

‘Right then, all perfect. Ready?’ Vera rose and ran her hands down her waist and hips, smoothing out her dress.

Stella glanced at her uncle, smiled, and nodded. She took a step forward, and Vera filtered in behind her, carrying a posy of pink carnations. They paused at the entrance, and Stella glanced down the red carpeted aisle to where Mac waited at the altar, his back to her, his wavy black hair gleaming. Seeing him there released a flight of doves from inside her soul and the breath caught in her throat. Beside him stood Wilson, his best man. Mrs Brown was seated at the organ, hands poised over the keys, staring directly at her, waiting for her cue. Stella nodded.

The wedding march rang out, and Stella glided down the aisle, past rows of polished mahogany pews, clutching her uncle’s arm for support. Fresh carnations, gypsophila, and hydrangeas adorned vases placed on the altar and around the church. An icy breeze flowed around her, and Stella shivered, glad of the fur stole Mrs Brown had given her that morning. She’d said it was for ‘something borrowed.’

The congregation rose. Mac’s side of the church was fit to burst, with so many of his friends from the base. She spotted Colonel Edwards sitting among them. Nestled near the back was Archie, along with Blackie, Pete, and Bea. She recognised them all instantly and smiled as she passed by. Archie grinned, his blue eyes sparkling as he winked.

Her stomach rocked and fluttered. That was bound to be nerves. Everyone suffered from nerves before their wedding, didn’t they? Her mother had called it the ‘jitters.’ She was almost there, and everyone paled into insignificance as Mac spun around and their eyes met. Heat flared in her cheeks as he gaped, his open mouth breaking into a broad smile. His uniform was immaculate, and her gaze flicked to the medals proudly displayed on his left breast—the Purple Heart now complemented by the oak leaf cluster, the most recent addition. Uncle Bill turned, lifted her veil, and kissed her cheek before taking her hand and placing it in Mac's. A tingle, like an electric current, fizzed through her soul.

‘You look so beautiful.’ Mac squeezed her hand affectionately.

They both turned to face Reverend Peters, who smiled warmly and glanced at Mrs Brown. The organ music faded, replaced by the low murmur of the wind outside mingling with the shuffling and whispers inside the church. Reverend Peters began to speak, and Mac’s smile was radiant, lighting up his face.

As the ceremony concluded, Mac gently slipped the gold band onto Stella’s finger. Her heart swelled as she gazed into his eyes, sparkling with love.

‘About time, Mrs. Mackenzie,’ he whispered.

Her stomach fluttered with joy as she realised she was the luckiest girl in the world. Her gaze slipped across the medals on his chest, symbols of bravery and sacrifice. Blinking back tears, she linked her arm with his, and they moved to the vestry to sign the register. As she carefully penned her married name in fresh ink, each letter felt like a promise, binding them together forever.

‘Well, Mrs Mackenzie, are you ready to greet our guests?’ Mac asked, holding out his hand and winking.

Her stomach flipped with excitement. The congregation rose, watching as the happy couple strolled down the aisle, arm in arm. Outside the church, Mac’s friends had lined up on either side of the oak doors, forming a guard of honour with raised swords.

Mrs Brown had arranged for a photographer to capture the moment. There was much fuss over positioning, arranging Stella’s dress, and ensuring everyone was in place. After several minutes, the icy wind cut through Stella’s dress, and she shivered. Her teeth chattered uncontrollably as the chill seeped deep into her bones.

‘How about you kiss the bride, Mac? We’ve come a long way to see this.’

‘Archie!’ Mac laughed and turned to Stella. ‘Better do as the doc says, honey.’

She lifted her chin as he pressed his lips to hers, and a cheer erupted as cameras clicked furiously around them. The taste of him sent her heart soaring.

The trees shook, casting leaves of red and burnt ochre into the wind, scattering them like confetti. A few guests threw small handfuls of rice, and Stella giggled when some of it slipped down the back of Mac’s tunic jacket, tickling his neck as it slithered down.

Mrs. Brown and the ladies from the WI had done a marvellous job transforming the village hall. Bunting bearing both the American and British flags hung around the room, while vases of flowers adorned the tables. The musty odour would soon be eclipsed by rising tobacco smoke, no doubt. As Stella strode across to the top table, her eyes widened at the sight of the feast and the white-iced, two-tiered cake, complete with a miniature bride and groom on top.

‘Oh, Mac. It’s beautiful,’ she said. ‘And real fruit.’

‘Yeah, it sure is something,’ he replied, grinning back.

Once Wilson had delivered his best man’s speech, it was time for the groom. Mac scraped his chair back and stood tall.

‘Well, I’m not one for speeches, but I’d like to thank you all for helping us celebrate our special day.’ He cast a loving gaze at Stella and smiled. ‘Almost a year ago, I saw a beautiful girl across a smoky dance hall, and something smacked me hard in the chest. I knew then she was the one. But what she didn’t know was that she came along just when I needed to believe in something, or someone. And when I was injured, instead of running for the hills, she decided that maybe I was worth sticking around for.’

As the guests laughed, Mac glanced at Archie and nodded. ‘And as for the doc there, well, he even tried to poach her for his own staff, but the RAF wasn’t having any of it.’

Archie laughed and raised his glass as people turned to look at him. ‘It’s all true, of course. I’m well known for poaching people.’ He chuckled, and everyone laughed.

‘So today, I stand here because my beautiful wife and Archie refused to give up on me, and boy, can they push and nag a guy.’ More laughter rippled around the hall. ‘I reckon I’m the luckiest guy in the world, so please raise your glasses in a toast to my beautiful bride.’

Everyone stood and chorused, ‘The bride.’

‘And if I can just add, Archie, when you first saw me and said you’d fix me up, I didn’t quite believe it, but you did.’ Mac’s voice faltered for a moment. Stella reached out and took his hand in hers, grounding him. He took a deep breath and continued. ‘And for that, I’ll be forever in your debt, and I’ll never forget what you did for me. Please, everyone, raise your glasses to Archie, the Maestro. A great surgeon, an even greater friend, and the perfect matchmaker.’

‘Oh, I don’t know about that.’ Archie chuckled. ‘You’d better check with the bride first.’ Another wave of laughter rippled through the room.

‘The Maestro,’ everyone chorused.

‘Here’s to you, Archie.’ Mac raised his glass as Archie grinned and nodded.

Mac gazed into Stella’s eyes and brushed her lips with his while the guests smiled and cheered. She was the happiest woman on earth. Mac always said they were meant to be, and he was right.

The first notes of ‘Moonlight Serenade’ swayed out into the room, and Mac held out his hand. ‘They’re playing our song. Excuse me, ma’am. May I have this dance?’

Stella rose, and as he led her to the dance floor, he slipped his arm around her waist and placed his hand on the small of her back, firm and warm, his touch electric.

‘Say, haven’t I seen you before?’ His blue eyes sparkled as he smiled, the skin crinkling at the corners, lighting up her world.

‘Oh, Mac. You remembered this was playing when you first asked me to dance.’ Tears pricked her eyes.

‘Well, Mrs Mackenzie, how does it feel to be a married woman?’

‘Perfect, and what about you?’

‘A married woman?’

Stella laughed as he drew her close. One by one their guests joined them, filling the dance floor. ‘You’re mad.’ She nestled her cheek against his tunic and drank in cedarwood.

‘You’d better believe it, honey. And that’s why you love me.’ He planted a kiss on her lips. ‘I have a little surprise for you, wife.’ He smirked. ‘How do you fancy two days at a top-class London hotel with all the trimmings?’

‘Oh, that sounds perfect.’ As the closing bars played, he held her close and kissed her.

A little later, Stella passed Archie and overheard him talking about his work to a rather captive audience. Some of Mac’s crew were huddled around, along with her mother and some of the WI ladies while Archie talked about tubed pedicles, describing them like elephant trunks. She smiled to herself.

‘Hey, Mac, Stella. We wanted you to be the first to know. Bea has agreed to marry me.’ Pete beamed as he wrapped his arm around Bea’s shoulders.

‘Well, how about that? Congratulations.’ Mac shook his hand and slapped him on the back, and he suddenly realised he was holding skin, rather than leather. Pete had finally ditched the gloves. He leaned in and kissed Bea on the cheek. ‘That’s swell news. I’m pleased for you both.’

‘Well, that’s not all,’ Pete continued, a hint of pride in his voice. ‘I’m staying on with the RAF. They offered me a desk job.

‘So much good news,’ Archie said. ‘Must be something in the water right now.’ He smiled and shook Mac’s hand. ‘Congratulations again. I knew you could do it.’

‘Well, I almost didn’t, and I have you to thank for that.’

‘Oh, I didn’t do anything at all. The credit is all Stella’s.’ Archie grinned and winked at her.

As Stella gazed at Archie’s kind, genuine face, words failed her. There he stood, such an ingenious man, next to her husband, the man he had saved. And then there was Pete and all the others she’d met on Ward III. She understood why some of the men called Archie God. When he turned to her, held out his hand, and said goodbye, she smiled and hugged him. ‘Thank you, for everything,’ she whispered, tears filling her eyes.

‘Not at all, my dear. All in a day’s work.’ He chuckled. ‘Just make sure you live life.’ He pushed his spectacles up on his nose as his face broke into a huge grin.

‘Mrs Mackenzie, how about you and I get a little fresh air.’ Mac steered Stella away from their guests and led her outside. The air had chilled even more, and wafts of smoke drifted like smog from neighbouring chimneys.

Stella gazed admiringly at her new husband. He was so smart and handsome. ‘I love you.’

He brushed a loose curl from her face. ‘I love you too, honey, now and always.’

She moved towards him, raised her chin, and gently caressed his face, both sides, comparing smooth skin to roughened, reddened scar tissue. ‘I love who you are, Mac. You’re beautiful, inside and out.’

He kissed her brow. ‘As long as I have you by my side, the world’s my oyster.’

‘It’s funny, I never thought we’d see this day, and now here we are. It’s a miracle really, isn’t it?’

He cupped her chin and looked deep into her eyes. ‘I was lost for a while, but you guided me back to where I needed to be. You showed me who I am and who I could be. You’re the only woman for me, Stella. You’re all I need. Without you, I’m nothing.’

‘As Archie says, what good is a face if the man is not whole?’ Stella smiled.

Mac was now whole, the circle complete. She linked his arm, and a radiant warmth filled her, glowing so bright her cheeks warmed. A formation of Flying Fortresses droned from the east, and within minutes several dark cruciform shapes gracefully roared over their heads. Mac glanced up, his lips moving as he counted.

‘Nine.’ He turned to her and kissed her gently, his breath warm, with a tinge of whisky. ‘All back.’

‘How did you know how many had flown today?’

‘I counted them out this morning.’

She sighed. ‘You miss it.’ Stella tried to mask the sadness in her voice.

Mac held her face in his hands. ‘You know, the truth is, I missed you more. And there’s no place I’d rather be than grounded here with you.’

Stella’s heart drummed to the tune of love. ‘You’ll fly again, I know it.’

‘I know, and I’m taking you with me, remember? Across the prairies, just like I said.’ He slipped his arms around her waist and drew her close. ‘You’re my girl, now and forever.’

She smiled, leaning into his chest, drinking in undertones of cedarwood, with a hint of a prairie future and reminiscent notes of aircraft and war. Two white doves fluttered overhead, circling in the tranquil, sterile blue sky before swooping down to roost in the old oak tree across the road.