He was blinking slowly , trying to clear the tears he had valiantly but futilely fought to hold back.

" Get a grip," he chastised himself. He couldn't help staring up at the beautiful sky then; its brilliant blue bravely competing with the color of the irises of the woman he had only recently called his " fiancée."

" Henry? Henry," he heard a cautious whisper, a susurration breaking his flight of fancy with bemused authority, " you may kiss her now."

The small crowd, a confluence of people that would otherwise may have never met except for those rushed calls that had beckoned them to this beautiful yet simple setting, let out discreet, giddy chuckles as if rehearsed.

Nothing had been rehearsed, there was precious little time.

Henry gave a tacit look to his left, nodding in belated understanding to the man speaking and then re-focusing his attention on her, poised in front of him, expectantly tightening the grip on their linked hands.

" Hi, Mrs. McCord," he let out, his words suspiciously soggy yet confident.

" Hi, Mr. Adams," she husked, giggling, her hips swaying slightly within their surprisingly intimate embrace.

The radiance of her smile, her whole entire face, conveying more love than anyone ought to have.

His eyes slid shut just long enough for a silent, grateful prayer and then dusted his lips against hers.

She pouted, chasing his mouth a little desperately.

" You call yourself a Marine, boy?" bellowed someone standing in the back, sounding a lot like his father. " Go on, give your bride a proper kiss!"

A few in the small gathering let out joyous whistles, lighthearted laughter.

He could barely breathe for loving her.

Elizabeth was now his wife.