“If any member of this congregation knows of any impediment why these two should not be joined, let them speak now, or forever hold their peace.”

A gust of salt air cut through the warm scent of roses as the heavy double doors at the back swung open, the latch echoing, drawing the heads of the back three rows around in a single motion.

Karina Andrews stood in the doorway with her silver pen clipped to her jacket and her leather pad under her arm.

Beside her was a woman in a gray wool coat, her fingers rubbing a small scar at her temple.

Rowena Duncan took two steps forward into the center aisle, her quiet, accented English cutting through the silence.