Standing there in the Bride’s Room, listening to the start of the music, I remembered what Aunt Sally had said before, about ten years being a long time to grieve. I wished Dad had met Sylvia earlier—that he could have had more years of being her husband. But then, of course, Dad and Les and I wouldn’t have had all these years of being so close. I didn’t know what I wished except that we would get through this wedding without anything awful happening.
While Lois fussed with Sylvia’s dress and hair, it was my job to stand at the door and listen for the end of Martin Small’s composition and the start of the wedding march. I was pleased that I could recognize the three instruments—the violin playing the melody, the piano, and the cello adding its mellow accompaniment. And this time the parts that had made me feel sad before didn’t bother me at all, and I smiled when the second movement was over and the third began.
I peeked into the sanctuary. Not only were all the seats filled, but so were most of the extra chairs that had been set up near the back. There are doors at the end of our sanctuary, and when there’s a really big crowd, we can open those doors and put chairs all the way out into the foyer. I saw so many students that I began to think there wouldn’t be room for any grown-up guests. Uncle Harold and Uncle Howard were performing their job as ushers, even though they hadn’t made it to the rehearsal. I guess by the time you reach your sixties, you’ve been an usher at so many weddings that you know the ropes backward and forward.
Everyone was listening to the music, though, and it was fast and happy again, one note tumbling over another, like everything was sliding into place, right up to those final, finishing notes. And here it was, their wedding day! That was our cue.
In the hush that followed the end of the third movement, I sensed that the listeners almost wanted to applaud but knew they shouldn’t. There was a soft rustling sound as the musicians put one piece of music aside and took out another. All the guests sat up a little straighter, and some of them looked around. I ducked back into the Bride’s Room.
“We’re about ready, Sylvia!” I said.
She smiled and took a deep breath, held it, then let it out.
“Let the wild rumpus begin!” said Lois, and we moved out into the hall. A small bead of per spiration slid down between my breasts and nestled between the lace cups of my Victoria’s Secret bra. One of the spaghetti straps on my long teal dress was looser than the other, but it was in no danger of falling off my shoulder. I knew I looked good, and I just wanted to get moving. I knew I wouldn’t feel so nervous once my body was actually doing something.
The ensemble began the familiar, joyful wedding march.
“This is it, baby!” I heard Lois say.
Holding my bouquet in front of me, my little silk clutch hidden beneath my arm, I took my first step down the aisle. The ribbons at the end of each row of seats were a cluster of teal, ivory, and royal blue, and I thought how perfect it would have been if Nancy had been in the procession in her royal blue dress to go with my gown of teal.
Dad and Lester were waiting at the altar, handsome in their dark blue suits—Lester in a red-and-blue tie, Dad in a blue-and-silver one. I realized I hadn’t seen Lester all morning, and Dad had still been wearing an old sweatshirt when I left the house. But now there was something about Dad’s face that made him look ten years younger. Everything about him was smiling—his eyes, his cheeks, his mouth—I’d swear, even his ears were smiling.
Step … pause … step … pause… . Lord, please don’t let me stumble. I breathed deeply. Step … pause …
I smiled, too, as I came down the aisle, first because Brian and Mark had positioned themselves on either side of the door in case Jim Sorringer walked in, and second because of the quirky little look Lester gave me to make sure I wouldn’t cry. My gown rustled softly with each step I took in my dyed teal pumps.
I had just passed Patrick when I felt the silk bag under my arm slip away. For a moment my face froze, but I knew I couldn’t stop to pick it up. Keep going, I told myself. Ignore it and keep going.
Then I thought, What if Sylvia doesn’t see it and trips over it? What if … ? But out of the corner of my eye I saw Patrick reach down, and I knew he would take care of it for me. Step … pause … step … pause.
I could see friends looking at me on either side of the aisle—Jill and Karen, even Amy Sheldon. Aunt Sally, of course, already had a tissue in her hand and was dabbing at one eye. A few more feet and I could smell Dad’s cologne. I reached my spot across from Lester, and all of us turned expectantly toward the back of the church.
The musicians played even louder now, and then there she was, on her brother’s arm. No one was standing, because the program had respectfully requested that guests remain seated during the bridal procession. As Sylvia had explained to me, there was no reason in heaven why people should stand up when the bride comes in, as though she’s the queen of England or something.
I had agreed. “Besides,” I’d told her, “this way everyone can see the bride, not just the ones on the aisle.”
Kirk was smiling, Sylvia was smiling—it seemed as though everyone on earth was smiling right then. Sylvia’s face and neck and shoulders seemed to have taken on a soft patina, like the alabaster I’d read about in Arabian Nights. Her eyes weren’t on anyone but my father, and Dad seemed to see no one but her. His face was so full of delight and awe that I wondered if Les would have to prompt him when it was time for his vows. He reached out for Sylvia, one arm circling her waist, and pulled her close, as though he would never, ever, let her go.
The sunlight streaming through the glass panels filled the whole sanctuary with warmth, and I felt like I was standing in the Emerald City of Oz.
“Dearly beloved … ,” the minister began, and I let out my breath in one slow, relieved sigh.
The ceremony was an odd mixture of traditional and modern. The minister talked about the different phases of love—how Ben and Sylvia had experienced grief and separation and loneliness during their courtship, yet love had prevailed. Not the kind of love that focuses on self, he said; not the kind that demands immediate gratification, but a love built on trust and loyalty and patience and understanding. A love that can’t be toppled by distance or events that postpone fulfillment. “Ben and Sylvia,” he finished, “have found in each other the three elements of lasting love: passion, tenderness, and joy.”
It was just then, as my eyes scanned the guests, that I saw Jim Sorringer appear in the doorway at the back of the church.
I stopped breathing. At the same moment he stepped into the sanctuary, I saw Mark and Brian glance at each other and then, like robots, move a few steps toward him and stand on either side.
Pamela and Elizabeth, in the third row, must have read something in my face, because I saw them glance hastily toward the back of the room, then forward again, their eyes huge and fixed on me. Across from me, Les raised one eyebrow. I concentrated on Dad and Sylvia again. There were no seats left. Sorringer would have to stand.
“… with this ring, I thee wed,” the minister was saying.
“With this ring,” my dad repeated, slipping a wide band of white and yellow gold on Sylvia’s finger, “I thee wed.”
“With my body, I thee worship …”
“With my body, I thee worship,” said my dad.
I’m not sure, but I think I blushed just then. Of all the times I had fantasized about two people in bed having sex, I had never exactly thought of it as worship. But I liked the sound of it—between Dad and Sylvia, anyway.
I stole another glance at the back of the room. I wondered how many times Jim Sorringer had worshipped Sylvia with his body. I considered casting a cold, calculating look in his direction, but I thought better of it.
All I could see of Sylvia now was the back of her head, the veil white and billowy down to her waist. I could see Dad’s face, though, the tender look in his eyes as he repeated the minister’s words, Lester’s solemn expression.
“I, Ben, take thee,
Sylvia, as wife of all my days …”
Then we heard Sylvia’s soft voice saying her vows: “I, Sylvia, take thee, Ben, as husband of all my days …”
I had thought that when Sylvia was finished, the minister would pronounce them husband and wife. Instead, Sylvia turned to me and Dad turned to Lester, and each put out a hand and drew us close to them at the altar.
“Just as we welcome Sylvia into this family circle,” the minister continued, “Ben and Sylvia’s love for each other encompasses Alice and Lester, too. This union is one of more than a single couple. At the end of every year may each of you be able to say to the others, ‘You have brought out the best in me and made me a better person.’ Together you make a family, and as a family, you make a home.”
I almost lost it then. From my end of the lineup, I could hear Lester swallow and I knew that it got to him, too. But just when I thought I might cry, I heard the minister saying, “If anyone here knows a reason why these two should not be united in holy matrimony …”
There was a rustle and a creak, and I thought my heart had stopped beating. I couldn’t help myself. I just had to glance toward the back of the sanctuary, then forward again, before I realized it was only Grandpa McKinley, impatient for the minister to get on with it.
The minister’s face broke into a happy smile. “Then by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you, Ben and Sylvia, husband and wife. Ben, you may kiss your bride.”
Lester and I automatically stepped aside. There wasn’t the faintest creak or rustle or cough as Dad turned toward Sylvia, his hands clutching her arms. For a few seconds he just gazed into her face, and then he leaned forward, his lips lightly brushing hers. Finally he drew her to him and kissed her tenderly—a long kiss—before he let her go, and I saw her fingers discreetly caress the back of his neck.
The hush was almost something you could touch. The hush, the smiles, the sunlight, and then—from Pamela and Elizabeth in the third row—a soft, triumphant “Yes!” and the entire audience broke into applause.
6
Hearts, Broken and Otherwise
I took Lester’s arm, and we walked back up the aisle behind Dad and Sylvia as the ensemble played the last movement of the wedding composition again, full of life and joy. It seemed to me as though every bell in the universe should be ringing. I couldn’t stop smiling. I was afraid I might cry at the same time, because sometimes I cry even when I’m happy.
All I did, though, was swallow, and Lester noticed.
“Don’t cry,” he muttered, giving my arm a shake. “Don’t cry or you’ll smear your mascara and end up looking like a raccoon.”
I laughed then and waved to people I knew from school. We had to wait in the stone chapel at one end of the church as the guests were leaving. Most of them were heading for the reception at the Hyatt, but all the kids from school were directed to the church lounge. When the sanctuary was empty, we went back for photos. Sylvia took off her shoes, and so did I.
“I promise I’ll make it quick,” the photographer told us, smiling. He took shots of the bride alone, Sylvia and Dad, Sylvia and me, Dad and Sylvia and Lester and me, the four of us plus Kirk and Nancy—almost every combination you could think of.
Lois stuck her head in the chapel. “I count seventy kids out here, Sylvia. I sent one of them to the Giant for more cookies and punch, and they want to know if they can dance. One of them brought a CD player.”
“Bless you, Lois,” Sylvia said, slipping on her shoes again. “We’ll be right out.” She turned to Dad. “Could they dance for a while, do you think?”
“I don’t see why not,” said Dad.
When we entered the lounge, the kids all clapped and cheered, and maybe it was the first time Dad had seen just how popular a teacher Sylvia was.
“When are you coming back to school?” they kept asking her.
“First week of November,” she told them.
“Oh, Alice, it was beautiful!” Elizabeth said as my own friends came crowding around. “And you’re gorgeous in that dress!”
“It’s really hot!” said Jill. And she actually sounded envious. Of me!
“Sex-y!” said Karen.
“What happened to Jim Sorringer?” I whispered. “One minute he was there and the next he wasn’t.”
“I think that long kiss was more than he could take,” Brian said. “He went outside about then for a cigarette.”
“When the minister asked if anyone knew why they shouldn’t be married, I almost died!” said Pamela, and we all began to giggle.
“I was sure I’d turn around to see Sorringer coming down the aisle for Sylvia,” I told them.
“We were ready,” said Mark. “Brian and I were going to do the bouncer bit.”
Patrick had been standing off to one side, smiling at me. I felt my face flush a little as he walked over. “Nice dress!” he said. “Very … uh …”
“Hot!” said Elizabeth.
“Sophisticated,” said Patrick. “Here. I think you dropped something.”
“My purse!” I said. “Oh, Patrick, thank you!”
“I wondered if there was anything in it you’d need up there, so I peeked. I was afraid maybe you were the one with the ring.” He looked at me strangely. “What’d you do? Pig out on doughnuts before the ceremony?”
I remembered the Krispy Kreme bag I’d stuffed in my clutch at the last minute. “No, it was supposed to be a barf bag in case Sylvia threw up.”
He stared at me incredulously. “Girls think about stuff like that? I mean, you actually plan for somebody throwing up?”
Elizabeth and I burst out laughing. “Well, somebody has to, Patrick! You can’t just let life happen to you,” I said, smiling back. It felt strange to be telling Patrick Long, the world’s ultimate life planner, something like that.
Dad motioned for me to come over and stand in the receiving line, even though we knew we’d have to do the same thing once we got to the reception. What was funny was how all the guys who are in high school now—Mark and Brian and Patrick and the others—took the opportunity to kiss the bride. The junior high kids who were still her students were too shy. They just stood around and giggled.
What was even funnier was that some of the guys, Patrick included, kissed me too. And he held it a few seconds longer than the others did. I smiled at him, surprised, as he straightened up again. I guess if you’re standing in a receiving line, you have to be prepared for anything. But what was really hilarious was the number of girls who wanted to kiss Lester.
He did look sexy in his dark blue suit. I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen Les in a suit in my life. A sport coat, of course. Maybe even a blazer. But a suit? “Weddings and funerals only, that’s my limit,” he said when I asked him where he’d wear it.
Gwen and Pamela wandered over to the punch table, where the guys had gathered, the junior high boys grabbing whole handfuls of cookies at a time. I was still in the receiving line talking to Karen and Jill when I saw Elizabeth gesturing to me wildly from across the room.
I looked toward the end of the receiving line where the last five kids were standing, and there was Jim Sorringer, waiting to kiss the bride.
With my eyes, I motioned Elizabeth to get the guys, and she must have understood, because I saw her whirl around and head for Patrick and Brian. By the time she had rounded up a small fleet, Jim Sorringer had got up to me.
“Uh … Lester, this is Mr. Sorringer, our vice principal back in junior high school,” I said, not knowing if Lester had ever met Sylvia’s former boyfriend or not.
“Nice to see you again, Alice,” Mr. Sorringer said, shaking my hand. “Lester …” He shook Lester’s hand, too, but his eyes were on Sylvia.
Hurry! my eyes pleaded, watching the guys around the punch table whisper among themselves and then start toward us.
It was too late.
Sylvia turned toward the next person in line and startled when she realized it was Jim. The smile sort of froze on her face. Dad looked both pleasant and p
rotective, as though he would allow nothing or no one to ruin this day. He put one arm around Sylvia’s shoulder.
“Hello, Jim,” Sylvia said, putting out her hand.
My heart was racing. I was maid of honor! I was supposed to help out! I was supposed to know what to do in emergencies to save the bride. I remembered the time I had poured my glass of 7UP down the back of an actress who had hold of Lester’s pants and wouldn’t let go. What should I do if Sorringer tried to grab her? Get out the barf bag and pull it over his head?
Jim reached out and took Sylvia’s hand in both of his. “I saw the notice on the bulletin board that your students were invited to the ceremony, Sylvia,” he said. “I hoped it applied to old boyfriends as well.” Sylvia blushed slightly, and he added, “I wish you happiness every day of your life. And I want to thank you for making the time we spent together the happiest of mine.”
He leaned forward then and kissed her on the cheek. I think he’d been aiming for her lips, but she turned her head slightly so that he got the side of her face.
“Thanks, Jim. I appreciate that,” Sylvia said. “And I wish the very best for you.”
I’ll bet Sorringer had that little speech all prepared. Rehearsed it, even. I noticed the way his fingers squeezed her arms, but even before Patrick and Brian and Mark moved in, Jim Sorringer turned to Dad. “Congratulations, Ben,” he said, giving his hand a quick shake. And then he turned and made his way through the bouncers who had gathered in case he needed an escort, and strode on out the door.
“Talk about a class act!” said Lester.
I was watching Dad and Sylvia exchange looks, saw Dad squeeze her shoulder.
“All except that line about the time they’d spent together,” I murmured to Les. But Mr. Sorringer hadn’t tried to ruin the wedding. He hadn’t made a scene. It suddenly occurred to me that I didn’t have any huge worries at the moment. Dad and Sylvia were married, I hadn’t tripped or stumbled, Nancy was recovering even though she couldn’t be in the ceremony, Lester was living close by, and life was good.