EJabby FanFiction by Wayne-Daniel Berard artwork by ClaudiaYvette
The invitations were purposely select and entirely original. A single pink silk rose, bloom fully open, was delivered by courier to several households in the town of Salem. The words “EJ and Abigail,” All Souls,” “Dec. 11” and “4 PM” were caligraphed in deep plum letters on four of its petals.
Earlier that week, EJ had rung the bell at the Dimera mansion. His right hand held a silk rose.
Harold, the longtime faithful manservant, answered. “Mr. Dimera, sir!” he said, surprised. “You needn’t have rung, sir. This is your home.”
“No, Harold,“ EJ sighed a little. “No, it isn’t. Not anymore.”
“Shall I tell Master Chad that you’re here?”
“No, Harold. No need. I’m actually here to see you,” and EJ handed him the rose.
“I . . . I don’t understand, sir?”
“Abigail Deveraux and I are marrying each other. We’d like you to be there.”
“I’d be honored, sir,” said Harold, taken aback but beaming.
“And there’s something else, Harold,” EJ continued.
“Ever since I came to this house, you have watched over me. You took care of me. You kept my secrets and cared for my wife and my children as if they were your own family.”
“Not to overstep, sir,” said Harold, “but they were. To me.”
“Quite right,” answered EJ. “And you to us. To me.
“I don’t have many male friends, Harold. My own doing, in many ways. I have not always been the most . . . reliable of men. But, you, Harold, you were always there for me. Entirely trustworthy and caring. So, I have a favor to ask. Would you be my best man?”
EJ thought for a moment he would need to pick the older gentleman up off the entryway floor.
“Mr. Dimera, sir . . .” he began.
“EJ,” the other interrupted him. “Friends, on a first-name basis.”
“Oh, I could never get used to that, sir, begging your pardon,” Harold laughed a bit. “But as for the other, it would be my great honor to be your best man!”
“Excellent!” said EJ and patted Harold on the shoulder. Looking around with a smile and a bit of staged caution, he added, “My father and brother won’t be pleased, you know. Will you worry for your job?”
“Oh, no, sir,” Harold actually winked at the groom to be. “A good memory is the best job security, I say!”
Scene change: The doorbell at Dr. Daniel’s apartment rings, and Melanie answers.
“Hi!” she and Abigail both say in unison, and hug each other closely.
“What’s that?” Melanie says, seeing two silk roses in her friend’s hand.
“Invitations, “smiles Abigail. “For you and your dad. EJ and I are marrying each other!”
“Wonderful!” squeals Melanie, truly delighted. “A little soon after returning from Europe, but . . .”
“We’re sure, Mel,” answers Abigail, “and the babies can’t wait.”
“Babies?! Plural?!!” Melanie’s platter eyes opened even wider!
“Yes, but I haven’t told EJ yet. I just learned myself this morning.”
“Learned what?” said Daniel, fresh from the shower. He had a pair of stone-washed jeans on and nothing else, as he dried his head with a towel.
“Here,” Abigail presented Daniel with the rose.
He stopped for a minute. “Abigail, I think you’re a very nice girl, but . . .”
The two friends burst out laughing!
“Put a mirror on the floor and get over yourself, Dad!” Melanie chortled. “Read the flower!”
“Read the . . . oh. OH!! Congratulations!” he started toward a (shirtless) hug, but thought better of it.
“And I have something to ask the two of you, “Abigail said. “Melanie, you know you’re my best friend in the world. Will you be my maid of honor?”
“Will I!” said Mel, and hugged her friend tight.
“And Daniel,” Abigail continued, “I truly thought that by now you’d be my step-father.” Daniel looked down and shuffled his bare feet. “Still, with the exception of my Dad, you’ve been the kindest, most caring man in my and JJ’s life. And Mom’s, too. Will you give me away?”
“I would love to,” said Daniel, “but your Mom -- how does she feel about all this.”
“Mom and JJ are invited, of course. I don’t know what they’ll decide to do. Aunt Maggie and Victor are coming. She’s agreed to fill the role of ‘mother of the bride.’ But Daniel, you were always more to me than just my Mom’s boyfriend. You were my friend, as well. We have our own relationship. And it’s that friend that I’m asking now.”
“Then . . . okay! Of course!” and Daniel’s dimples only deepened with his huge smile.
”Enough schmaltz!” Melanie called out. “We have dress shopping to do. NOW!!”
Scene shift: EJ is sitting on a bench in a secluded section of the park. He has his reading glasses on and seems engrossed in his book. The cover reads “Paulo Coelho.”
Clyde Weston approaches and sidles up next to EJ.
“Well,” he drawls, “I don’t know I-talian, but I’m gettin’ to think that ‘Dimera’ must mean ‘cat’ or somethin’. You surely do have a lot a lives.”
“Mr. Weston.” EJ puts aside the book. “I’m sure you recall this spot? Or, more precisely, that grove of firs just to the left?”
“Yes, indeed I do,” replied Clyde with a smirk. “That’s the place you fell dead. At least I thought so.”
“You mean, the place where you murdered me. Or at least YOU thought so?”
“Now, hold on a minute!’ Clyde stood up. “You wired up?”
EJ also stood and extended his arms; Clyde patted him down.
“Alrighty, than,” Weston went on. “Let’s get something straight right off the bat. I didn’t shoot you. Your own man, that Carlo, he’s the one that done that.”
“At your behest,” said EJ. “And he was no longer my man. He was working for you. For which he paid a hefty price, I understand?”
“Now, he took that shot all on his own. Thought you were movin’ on me. And then – well, let’s just say your death was avenged. You should be grateful.”
“Grateful? That you left me there to bleed to death?”
“Now, now, I thought you were already dead. Nothing I could do, either way. So I did exactly what you’d do. I vamoosed; took care of myself.”
EJ bent down and picked up the book he had been reading.
“Do you know this author?” EJ asked.
“Don’t go in for readin’ much,” Clyde answered. “Never had the time.”
“Pity,” said EJ. “Magnificent book. All about the world’s greatest lie.”
“The world’s greatest lie? And what’s that? ‘The meek shall inherit’ or some such thing?
“Oh no,” EJ went on. “It’s this.” And he opened the book. ‘That at a certain point in our lives we lose control of what’s happening to us, and our lives become controlled by fate. That’s the world greatest lie.’”
“Well, I’ll be,” Clyde grinned his widest cornpone grin. “Me and a big-time writer actually agree. I don’t believe in fate or such; I’m always in control of what’s happening to me.”
“Indeed,” said EJ. “Except that you are the exception that proves this rule.”
“The exception. Because, as of now, you are no longer in control of your own life, Mr. Weston. You have met your fate; you are meeting it at this moment.
“ Life has a way of correcting its own course, don’t you think?. Or, to quote the man whose beatitude you just disparaged, ‘The measure you use for others will be the one used for you.’”
Clyde stepped up into EJ’s face,” Are you threatin’ me, Dimera? Because lightnin’ can strike twice in the same place.”
EJ smiled broadly. “’To realize one’s destiny is a person’s only real obligation’ – page 22. Enjoy your destiny, Mr. Weston.”
EJ stepped back and tapped his glasses in a little two-finger salute.
“Much obliged,” he said. And turned and left.
Scene shift: The interior of All Soul’s Episcopal is already decorated for Advent, with green garland strung around its interior, and purple candles lit everywhere. The vault of the nave itself is a bright Christmas red, with a vaulted–panel ceiling, its sections beginning in trapezoidal shapes, then tapering to triangles at its apex, all bound in walnut. Approaching the nave and hovering above the front pews on each side are the giant walnut casings of a pipe organ, its notched silver tubes just waiting to fill the great space with sound. The pews are likewise walnut, and in them are seated guests whom Abbey and EJ love and respect: Rafe is there, as are Will, Sonny, and little Arianna, in a tiny purple gown. Jordan is present, escorted by her brother, Ben; he has never trusted EJ, but has put his feelings aside on this day. Marlena and John sit beside each other, joined by Brady (who is Melanie’s date). Kayla and Maxine arrived early to help in any way they could. Hope has come with Aiden, Ciera and Chase; Lucas shares a pew with them. Visibly absent are Jennifer and JJ.
T arrived just before the ceremony was about to begin, still trying to tie his tie. He plopped down beside Jordan and Ben, looked around and said a little too loudly, “Wow, talk about a huge organ -- ooomph!” Jordan gave him a good-hearted elbow in the ribs.
In the sacristy, Father Eric Brady, the newly appointed vice-rector of All Souls, Episcopal, was getting ready for his first wedding in his new environment.
“You’ll be great, “said Nicole, fussing over him, adjusting the stole hanging around his neck and down to the floor on each side. It was purple, each side embossed with a rose-colored heart containing a yellow-orange flame. “It’s like driving a car; you never forget. It’s just that it’s, like, you know, England, and you’re driving on the left side of the road!” And she giggled.
“You’ll be right there in the front?” Eric asked a bit nervously, “for moral support?”
“Well,” Nicole laughed, “that’s one kind of support I never thought I’d be! But yes, Eric, I’ll be right there. You can’t miss me!” And indeed, the length (or lack thereof) of her otherwise conservative black dress suit with white piping would make her anything but inconspicuous.
The organ began to play, surprising softly and sweetly for all its grandeur. The piece was a waltz, Brahms’ Number 15 in A flat major. Father Eric emerged from the sanctuary, followed by EJ and his best man. Even over the organ music, one could detect a little gasp from the women guests; EJ looked more handsome and dashing than ever. He wore a waist length evening jacket, in a purple so deep it was almost black. It featured a Nehru collar that might not have worked at all on a lesser figure of a man, but with EJ, tall in that classically British nave, it became almost the look of a raja, standing with his major domo by his side, awaiting whatever might come next. The white shirt and narrow pink tie softened the effect, saying, “Here is a man of iron and a heart of devotion.” Harold’s ensemble matched the groom’s, but for his purple tie.
Daniel, in a dark suit and collarless white shirt, escorted his mother down the aisle to a front pew, then hastened back to the vestibule. A moment later, Melanie began to walk down the aisle. She looked a combination of adorable and sensual, without one overpowering the other. Her red hair was piled upon her head; her dress was a soft purple, sleeveless, with a fitted bodice. A narrow purple satin sash encircled her waist, while wider satin trim lined her hem, which fell just below the knee.
She winked at Brady as she passed by, entered through the open gate of the altar rail, and took her place, as Eric stood in the center, all nervousness gone. He felt right at home.
Then, at the inner vestibule door, there stood Abigail. To say she was radiant would be to underestimate the sun itself. Her mermaid gown was white and strapless, with a sweetheart neckline. A sash of glittering crystals hugged her high waist. Her hair was long and swept back to one side and over her shoulder, accentuated by a thin band of matching crystals. She carried a shower of snowdrops and pink French roses.
Daniel took her arm. Father Eric called out, “Please rise!”
But the organ didn’t play. Instead, a series of guitar chords, picked rather than strummed, began to fill the church from the choir loft directly over Abigail’s head.
She and Daniel hesitated for a moment, but then a voice familiar to many in the place began to sing:
“Longer than there've been fishes in the ocean
Higher than any bird ever flew
Longer than there've been stars up in the heavens
I've been in love with you . . .”
Everyone strained around to see. There was JJ, standing in the choir loft, in his mustard-colored leather jacket and jeans, serenading his sister down the aisle.
“Stronger than any mountain cathedral
Truer than any tree ever grew
Deeper than any forest primeval
I am in love with you . . .”
Smiles abounded. Abigail and Daniel made their way slowly toward the sanctuary. EJ took a step forward, a combination of Prince Charming and Bogey’s younger, handsomer (and tougher) brother. (Here’s looking at only you, kid!)
“I'll bring fires in the winters
You'll send showers in the springs
We'll fly through the falls and summers
With love on our wings”
EJ shook Daniel's hand; Abigail handed her bouquet to Melanie. Then the two lovers faced each other, hand in hand, under the bright red vault and in the brighter, loving glow of all present.
“Who gives this woman in marriage?” asked Father Eric aloud.
“No one,” came JJ’s voice from the choir loft. “She gives herself. Just as it should be.”
“Then let us be seated,” Eric smiled.
“Friends, family,” Eric began, “From every human being there rises a light that reaches straight to heaven. And when two souls that are destined to be together find each other, their streams of light flow together. And a single, brighter light goes forth from their united being.” Father Eric looked at the bride and groom knowingly, first one, then the other.
“Abigail, EJ, I think that I can speak for everyone here in saying: ‘Thank you for adding to the available stock of light in this world. And in this town. God knows we all need it. And we are grateful to you for showing what is still possible, in love. For all of us. Let us all say, Ah-men!”
And the entire assembly answered with a voice like light’s own, “Ah-men.”
“And now, Abigail and EJ have words to share with the other.”
Abigail squared her beautiful shoulders, held EJ’s hands a little tighter, and began:
“ EJ: I don't love you as if you were the salt-rose, topaz
or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:
I love you as certain dark things are loved,
secretly, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that doesn't bloom and carries
hidden within itself the light of those flowers,
and thanks to your love, darkly in my body
lives the dense fragrance that rises from the earth.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,
I love you simply, without problems or pride:
I love you in this way because I don't know any other way of loving
but this, in which there is no I or you,
so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand,
so intimate that when I fall asleep it is your eyes that close.”
The room barely seemed to breathe. “Thank you, Abigail,” said Eric. “EJ?”
And EJ began, his eyes never leaving Abigail’s:
“At that moment, it seemed to him that time stood still, and the Soul of the World surged within him. When he looked into her dark eyes, and saw that her lips were poised between a laugh and silence, he learned the most important part of the language that all the world spoke -- the language that everyone on earth was capable of understanding in their heart. It was love. Something older than humanity, more ancient than the desert. Something that exerted the same force whenever two pairs of eyes met, as had theirs here at the well. She smiled, and that was certainly an omen -- the omen he had been awaiting, without even knowing he was. The omen he had sought to find in his travels and in his books, in the crystals and in the silence of the desert.
“It was the pure Language of the World. It required no explanation, just as the universe needs none as it travels through endless time. What the boy felt at that moment was that he was in the presence of the his deep heart’s destiny and that, with no need for words she recognized the same thing. He was more certain of it than anything in the world, because when you’ve learned the universal language, it’s easy to understand that someone in the world awaits you, whether in the middle of the desert or in some great city. And when two such people encounter each other, and their eyes meet, the past and the future become unimportant. There is only that moment, and that incredible certainty that everything under the sun has been written by one hand only. It is the hand that evokes love, and creates a twin soul for every person in the world. Without such love, one’s dreams would have no meaning.
“’It is written,’” the boy said.”
Candle light became tears falling down the cheeks of more than one person in that church.
“When EJ and Abigail came to see me about their wedding plans, “Eric took up, “they were adamant about one thing: that it wasn’t that one had proposed and the other had accepted, but that both of their lives had reached out simultaneously. That they were marrying each other, to engage a life lived in a shared heart. In that spirit, they have written and will express their vows.”
Hands still clasped, moving a step closer to each other, EJ began:
“Abigail, I marvel at your desire for my company.
I stand in awe that your love finds and chooses
me, for I had given up hope of ever being addressed
so lovingly by anyone. And now, you choose me
and tell me that I make a difference to you.”
And here, Abigail took up:
“Utterly amazed, I experience myself differently
because of your choice. I learn to appreciate myself
in a new way. I see my worth and my contribution
when I look at myself with your eyes. How can I
begin to thank you?”
“There is only on appropriate response to you, my Great Love, and it is: To love you, to honor you, to cherish and respect you, in sickness and in health, in times of ease and in times of struggle, for richer or poorer (or poorer still!) At the top of the Eiffel Tower or in Horton Square, my vow is the same:”
“To reveal to you every day your own unimaginable beauty; to (as the poet says) “do with you what spring does with a cherry tree,” to be the trellis that supports, but never defines or directs your unfolding; to delight with obvious mirth in your Abigailness.”
“You often say to me, sincerely, amazingly, “There is nothing about you that I do not love.” It took me awhile to believe that such a thing could be possible, but there it was, day after day -- the stunning certainty of EJ’s love.”
“And so today, I give to you my undefended heart. In you I am permitted to see myself as God sees me -- beloved beyond all measure. I ask you: permit me the infinite honor of a life spent doing the same for you?”
Father Eric’s smile beamed across the sanctuary. “And who says they don’t teach memorization in Salem schools anymore?” he laughed. And the church laughed with him.
“Arianna Grace? “ Eric asked. And Will stepped forward, carrying his precious daughter. In her hands was a little silver box.
Eric took the box from her; it contained two silver wedding bands, Abigail’s delicately thin, EJ’s broader, with a sapphire thread running around its circumference.
Eric handed the rings to the couple; they held each other’s hand, each ring hovering in front of the appropriate finger.
Abigail nodded like a waterfall in the sun. At the same moment, they slipped the ring onto each other’s finger, and said in unison:
“With these rings are we wed!”
The church exploded in applause! Father Eric could barley be heard over the throng to say, “By the power vested in me, I declare that you are, indeed, husband and wife,” (he then gestured widely) “and family to each other! You may kiss each other!”
But EJ and Abigail were way ahead of him, and remained so for several long seconds!
Finally, Eric took a side of his stole in each hand, draping one over EJ’s shoulder and the other over Abigail’s. Then he turned the couple forward to face the shining assembly.
“It’s been my great joy to perform a number of weddings, “Eric began. “And with each, I often hear the same thing: All the planning and choosing and detail and drama, and then – poof! -- the wedding itself seems to be over in a split-second! And you wake up on a honeymoon in . . . where are you two going?”
“Smith Island,“EJ smiled rather rakishly at his bride. Was it only the reflection of the red vault in Abigail’s smiling cheeks?
“You wake up on Smith Island, and say to yourselves, ‘What happened? It was all such a blur!’ Well, we don’t want that to happen with you. So, as I pray this final blessing, I want to invite you not to be in the next frame of the film, as it were. But rather to be right here, right now. In this moment.
“And accordingly, I’m going to ask all of you here not to close your eyes in prayer. And not to bow your heads in prayer. But rather, to turn your loving gaze toward this amazing couple, and to join your intentions to mine, as a we pray.”
And Eric placed a hand on each of their shoulders. “Oh you who are Love,“ he prayed, “in us and for us and among us. Hear our prayer for EJ and Abigail today. It is a simple prayer, Lord, and it is this: that wherever they may go, whatever they may do, there will be a place deep in both their hearts, where it is always THIS moment -- their wedding moment -- when with their friends, their family, and with you, oh God, they began their life together in One Heart.
“May they visit that place often, Lord. And let us all say, Ah-men!”
A loud “ah-men!” resounded across the pews.
“And now, “Eric concluded, “it is my great pleasure to introduce for the first time as husband and wife, Mr. and Mrs. Elvis and Abigail Deveraux-Dimera.” The organ peeled magnificently the familiar Fanfare-Rondeau by Mouret, better known as the theme to . . .
“Masterpiece Theater?” Victor turned to Maggie with his characteristic up-turned eyebrow and quarter-scowl.
“Well,“ a delighted Maggie was still applauding, “It works on both levels. They are a masterpiece! And there will certainly be theater!!”
Arm in arm, the newlyweds took a few steps down the aisle, when suddenly the music changed! Four high notes in fast, descending order sounded from the organ, followed by a single rim-shot on a snare drum. Then –
“Oh, can't you see that she's mine
We've been together for a long long time
And yet they try so very hard to pull us apart
But we don't care what they say
We're gonna keep on lovin' this way
'Cause if they break us up
You know it'll only break my heart”
Once more, guest strained to look back and up into the choir loft. There was JJ on guitar, now joined by Sonny Kieriakis on drums. Ben Ridgeway played bass, while T blew a convincing riff on tenor sax (who knew?!) Everyone shared the vocals, and everyone wore shades! Even Arianna was shaking a little plastic toy tambourine, tiny sunglasses on, while Daddy Will swayed her to the music.
“And don't you know I love her so
And I'll never, never, never let her go
No matter what the people may say or try to do
'Cause can't you see that she's mine
We've been together for a long, long time
And it'll stay that way
Because I know she loves me too
“People talk and try to break us up
When they know they don't understand
But I don't care what the people may say
I'm gonna keep on holdin' her hand . . .”
EJ and Abigail were the epitome of classic cool, walking gracefully down the aisle while in the pews on either side, people clapped and swayed in rhythm. (Melanie was positively retro—a-go-go, behind them).
When the joyous couple reached the end of the aisle, they found Abe Carver and Roman Brady standing there.
“Here to congratulate us, gentlemen?” EJ asked.
“Not exactly, “Roman grimaced. “EJ, you’re going to have to come down to the station with us.”
“What?” Abigail cried out, aghast. “No! Why? Mr. Carver, please! This is our wedding day.”
“I’m very sorry, Abigail,” Abe tried to speak gently. “But Clyde Weston was just found. Dead.”
