Ward Fulton - The Violated Virgin

The car pulled away from the house, and the trees lining the driveway became a blur. She was only conscious of the wild excitement within her and the anticipation of the honeymoon. They had decided to go to Bermuda for two weeks, and then on to Rio and back through Mexico City.

In all, they planned to be gone a month. "That's enough time to get acquainted," Mr. Delacorte had said, squashing his wife's notion of a three-month European tour for them as a going-away present. "After all, they're not going to be doing much sightseeing. What can you see from a hotel suite?" Mrs. Delacorte had sniffed and told him not to be coarse.

As the car approached the church in Grosse Pointe, Suzanne saw a small crowd outside. Her heart beat even faster as she noticed two photographers standing to one side, their cameras ready in their hands.

The car pulled up slowly, and her father walked down from the steps to help her out. There were gasps of envy from the women, and some man gave a low whistle. Suzanne grinned up at Mr. Delacorte, who nodded his approval.

"I'm happy for you," he whispered.

"Thanks, Daddy," she replied, and together they walked into the church, her lace veil and train billowing in the slight breeze.

The ceremony was brief, and Suzanne was not aware of anything but Sam's firm hand on her own and his deep voice repeating the vows after he minister.

"You may now kiss the bride,"

She felt Sam's soft lips on her own, a quickly her tongue licked his, and then they separated, flushing, and turned to walk down the aisle.

On either side she saw the admiring glances of her friends, the smiles and whispered words of congratulation, and she felt a warm glow within her. She held on to Sam tightly, conscious that the strain was beginning to tell. It would soon be over and they would be away, alone again.

They paused at the entrance, and the photographers were standing there.

The barrage of flashbulbs blinded her for a moment, and then the hail of rice descended and the excited shouts of the crowd gathered there.

Sam helped her down the steps, afraid she might trip on her dress.

Suzanne bent down and took the end of it, placing it over her arm. She raised up, and her eyes met another pair among the crush of people, a pair of blue eyes that stared at her with incredible longing and incredible sadness. She felt a stab within her heart, and she paused, unable to move, her attention held by the intensity of the gaze that burned from the youthful features. She felt herself unable to take another step, and was dimly aware of Sam's hand on her arm, pulling her forward, but her feet seemed riveted to the sidewalk.

"Come on," whispered Sam, and then he saw her expression. "You all right?"

She nodded vaguely, conscious of the sad young face in the crowd which threatened to burst into tears any second. The mouth quivered and formed the words: "I love you." She felt her catch in her throat.

"Oh, Donald," she whispered inaudibly to herself, and then she stepped forward, clinging to Sam's arm. As they climbed into the car, she felt the wetness on her own cheeks. Sam put his arm around her shoulders and sudden concern showed on his face.

"Darling, you're crying."

Slowly the car pulled away and drove quickly up the street, leaving behind the excited throng, cheering and waving hands excitedly, and one lonely young boy, standing apart and alone, his eyes blurring as he watched the limousine disappear around a corner.