Daniel jumped from the altar.
Hammer gripped the overskirt near its fastenings and tore downward. Old lace split. Hooks snapped. The sound was loud, ugly, and final.
Guests rushed him.
Daniel hit Hammer across the shoulder while my brother wrapped both arms around the biker’s chest. Three other men pulled him away from me.
“Get him out!”
“What is wrong with you?”
“Call the police!”
Hammer did not fight back.
He pointed at the floor.
The detached train was burning.
Orange flame moved through the lace where it had brushed against a candle stand. Hammer tore off his leather vest, dropped it over the fabric, and pressed down until the flame disappeared.
Only then did I feel the heat against my right calf.
A bridesmaid wrapped me in an altar cloth while an off-duty paramedic examined my skin. The burn appeared limited, but she wanted it evaluated. An ambulance was delayed behind a traffic closure from a downtown festival.
Hammer’s Harley stood outside with a professionally installed rescue sidecar used during the Iron Lanterns’ charity events. After the paramedic and dispatcher agreed I was stable enough for the short, controlled transfer, Daniel rode beside me in a police vehicle while Hammer drove the sidecar slowly to the nearest hospital.
I wore his leather vest over the torn underdress.
At the emergency entrance, Hammer helped me from the sidecar, handed my care to the staff, then disappeared before I could ask why he had been invited to the wedding.
The chapel closed after inspectors found fire damage near the candle platform. My mother’s dress could not be restored in time. Our caterer had another event. Half the flowers wilted while we waited at the hospital.