An Accidental Hero
Copyright© 2026 by A Kiwi Guy
Chapter 7
For a heartbeat, nothing moved. Then Amanda crumpled. Duane was at her side instantly. At the same moment, Petra collapsed, and Corey dropped to his knees beside her — only to be joined by Aaron, who gathered his daughter into his arms and, for the first time in living memory, broke down openly. Rosemary, stunned and white-faced, knelt with them.
The congregation erupted into sound — confusion, whispers, gasps.
“Order!” the vicar’s voice rang out, cutting through the noise. Gradually, the clamour subsided.
“Mr Somers,” he said gravely, “I presume you have very good reason for interrupting this marriage.”
He paused, then continued, firmly.
“I suggest that the wedding party and their parents adjourn to the vestry while we determine what has occurred, and what must now be done.”
Turning to the congregation, he added, “Ladies and gentlemen, I ask for your patience. This interruption is exceptional in my experience. Please remain seated while we seek clarity.”
And with that, he ushered the principals and their parents through the side door.
...
In the quiet of the vestry, the women’s sobbing gradually subsided. Corey, Aaron and Rosemary knelt close to Petra, while Duane and Amanda clung to each other a little apart from the others.
“Corey,” the vicar said gently, “we all need an explanation for what has just happened. And just as importantly, we need to decide how we proceed from here. There are many lives involved.”
“It’s hard to explain, sir,” Corey said, his voice unsteady, “but something that had been building in me broke loose when you issued the invitation. That’s not a criticism — it just forced into the open things that should have been faced long ago.”
He rested his head briefly in his hands, one arm still around Petra, as if letting go might undo him.
“Amanda believed she owed me her life,” he went on. “She put aside what she really felt, out of a sense of duty. It was selfless — and I honour her for it — but it was taking her towards a terrible ending. And me...” He swallowed. “I believed I owed the world something too. That because people had rescued me, given me a life I didn’t earn, I had to repay it. If Amanda needed me, I thought I had to be there.”
A low intake of breath moved through the room.
“Oh, Corey,” Rosemary said softly. “We didn’t realise. The pain you were both carrying ... and all in silence.” She faltered, unable to finish.
“You owe the world nothing,” Aaron said, his voice breaking. “You are a gift simply by being who you are. I should have said that plainly years ago. I thought you knew. I was wrong — and I’m deeply sorry.”
Corey nodded, tears falling freely now.
“It was when Petra walked down the aisle beside Amanda,” he said, “that I finally understood. I love her. I always have. And I realised I’d treated her unforgivably. If I let the marriage service continue, I would destroy not just my own life, but others as well.”
He turned fully toward Petra, awake but confused.
“Please forgive me,” he said. “For my blindness. For my cowardice. I love you — and I want to spend my life with you alone.”
“These are holy moments,” the vicar said quietly. “God delights in truth and reconciliation. But we are still faced with the question of what to do next.”
“I have a suggestion,” Rosemary said. “It’s unorthodox — but I believe it may serve us all, if you are willing to bend a little.”
Given how this morning has unfolded so far,” the vicar replied dryly, “I am prepared to hear anything. But I make no promises.”
“Let’s be clear,” Rosemary said. “Duane — you love Amanda?”
He nodded. Amanda’s hand tightened in his.
“And Amanda,” Rosemary continued, “you love Duane, and would marry him freely, if you could.”
Amanda nodded through tears.
“And Corey,” Rosemary said, turning, “you say you wish to spend your life with Petra. I think you had better ask her whether she agrees.”
Corey sank to one knee.
“Petra,” he said, his voice shaking, “after everything I’ve done wrong — will you marry me?”
She laughed softly through her tears.
“I came close to killing you once,” she said. “I won’t promise I won’t finish the job. But yes. I love you. I always have. And I will marry you.”
They kissed — deeply, awkwardly, but unmistakably — the first kiss they had ever shared.
“Well,” Rosemary said quietly, “that settles two things.”
She turned to the vicar.
“My suggestion is this: that we proceed with a double wedding.”
There was a collective gasp. The vicar opened his mouth, but Rosemary raised a hand.
“I know what you’re thinking. You cannot legally marry a couple without the paperwork. I agree. But you can bless the unions of two couples who solemnly commit themselves before God and witnesses, with the understanding that the legal formalities will be completed as soon as possible.”
She paused, then continued.
“I did some research about marriages. In Tudor times in England, there was no paperwork. All that was required was that the couple vow to marry in the presence of two witnesses. Clergy were not necessarily involved.
“In the old days in the American West, couples lived as husband and wife for years because no minister was available. When one finally came, the marriage was formalised. This was considered quite normal. We both know that a certificate does not make a marriage. Commitment does. And these couples have made clear they are committed.”
The vicar was silent for a long moment.
“You make a compelling case, Mrs Somers,” he said at last. “May my superiors show mercy.”
He straightened his stole.
“Wait here,” the vicar said to Corey and Duane. “I will speak to the congregation. Amanda, Petra — and parents — slip out this side door and go round to the front of the church. Re-enter when you hear the organ.”
...
The buzz in the church faded quickly when the vicar reappeared. He moved to the centre of the chancel, waited until the last murmurs died away, and smiled.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I have good news. There is going to be a marriage.”
A ripple of relieved laughter.
“However...” — he paused deliberately — “it may not be the marriage you were expecting.”
That brought a puzzled hum.
“There appears to have been a significant misalignment of affections within the wedding party. It has come to light that the bride is in love with the best man, and the bridegroom is in love with the bridesmaid. Mr James made his interjection when he did because of a conviction — arrived at only just in time — that proceeding as planned would have done a disservice to everyone concerned.”
The hum swelled, then broke into scattered exclamations.
“After consultation with all involved — including the parents of the bridesmaid — we have agreed not to abandon the day, but to reshape it. We are therefore going to have not one marriage, but a double ceremony.”
The vicar paused again, allowing the astonishment to settle.
“I must be clear that these marriages will not be legally binding today. New certificates will need to be issued, and I will amend the wording of the service accordingly. What we will conduct is, in effect, a blessing rather than a formal marriage.”
A few people shifted uneasily.
“However,” he continued, “it is worth remembering that the wedding as we now understand it is a relatively modern development in Western society. In Tudor times — the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries — there were no official forms or registries. A man and a woman made vows to one another in the presence of witnesses, and that was sufficient. In the early history of this country, many settlers married without churches or clergy at all — particularly when one partner was local-born. And, of course, these days the law does not require two people to marry in order to live together.”
A pause. A gentler note.