A cord of three strands is
not quickly broken.
Ecclesiastes 4:12
Ann
Jordyn Michels Ballard
And
Mark
Devin Roth
Request
the honor of your presence
As they
exchange Marriage Vows
On
Friday September 23
Hope
Church
Madison,
Wisconsin
Eleven O’clock
AM
“That color on
you will wash you invisible,” Rachel, Ann’s younger sister, declared in her
no-nonsense voice. “Here.” Rachel reached over the wheelchair she’d been
pushing, ostensibly to hold their purses, and not Ann, to thrust an outfit in
her face.
Annoyed and
grumpy after two hours of shopping for a wedding dress that didn’t look too fru-fru,
too young, too matronly, two second-wedding, Ann was ready to go back to her
closet at home and have something altered. She took a deep breath of dusty tissue
paper and packing boxes shipped on tramp steamers from India and Sri Lanka and
Morocco. Her eyes widened on their own. The knee-length pleated algae-green
skirt and boxy square necked blouse with a big bow—knit—Rachel thrust in front of Ann made her gag. The aroma of
imagined pea soup beat out romantic tramp steamers and Rick’s.
She raised her
face to spy the mirth threatening to spill from between her sister’s lips. Ann
swallowed and leaned both hands on the cane, trembling and shaking with
laughter. Ingrid Bergman would have looked okay in that get-up, as long as she
wore a trench coat over it and stayed on the black and white side of the
screen. Many decades had passed since Bogie and Bergman had reunited at the
American Café.
Guffawing out
loud in such a trendy shop was gauche.
“Did you want
to see that in your size, ma’am?” a snooty sales clerk asked. The woman had
undoubtedly realized her commission was nothing more than a pipe dream when she
caught the sisters in naughty giggles.
Ann cleared her
throat. “Thank you, but no. I can’t see myself walking down the aisle in
that…outfit.”
“Not…me either,
as the maid…matron of honor,” Rachel said in her flinty in-charge college
administrator voice. “But thank you for your help. I believe my sister and I
will take a break and consider the choices we’ve seen so far today.”
The woman
nodded, curiosity warring with the ennui under her shiny blond sweep. “We don’t
carry wedding gowns. Have you tried Brides?”
Rachel put her
hand under Ann’s elbow.
Ann pursed her
lips while she decided whether to laugh or cry. “I suppose we make quite a
picture,” she said, keeping her eyes shut.
“Mmhm,” Rachel
muttered. “You had to wait until two weeks before the wedding to look for a dress.”
Ann opened one eye. Rachel, at forty-four, wore her golden brown hair around her shoulders. Under the harsh fluorescent of the mall the highlights Ann admired in natural sun faded to a dinge. These days, with her grown daughter Maeve, her only child, out of the house, Rachel left her hair natural, a little dry and threaded with white, and refused to let Ann treat her to a goo
d cut and color. But maybe for the wedding…
She fingered
her own one-inch length of spiky hair even across her scalp. Easier to deal
with since her stroke. “That other one I picked out…before…” She waved the
cane. “All this.” Ugh. “I still can’t believe he even wants to get married…”
Ann gulped the laugh. “A bride…again…” She shook her head. “What am I doing? I
can’t even walk straight!”
Rachel grabbed
Ann’s hands in hers. “Hey. If you don’t want Mark, I’ll take him.”
Rachel was only
half-kidding. Ann steeled her spine and tugged her hands from her sister’s grip.
The diamonds Mark had given her left a red scratch along Rachel’s hand. “Nuts.
I’m sorry.” Rachel had given so much of herself to help Ann heal. Rach had
proven her sibling love in so many ways over the last seven months. Ann’s
unexpected stroke following Mark’s proposal had forced them to admit simmering sibling
rivalry and work out painful issues that had made their relationship prickly
over their adult years.
Mark Roth,
who’d swooped into Ann’s life more than a year and a lifetime ago had brought
the family together in the oddest of ways while exposing the root of their
contentiousness. Mark, beautiful Mark, had backed out of an engagement in Virginia
where he practiced law to return to Wisconsin, seek and woo a woman from his
past more than a decade older, and help her put to rest the mystery of her
long-missing husband. Unlike Ann, Mark had never married. Ann’s stroke at age
forty-seven had floored everyone. She hated to admit it, but she might not have
been as strong for Mark if it had happened to him.
The family
scaffolding with all its bent and rusty parts regrouped around Ann and Mark. Maeve,
who’d learn to corral her rebellious nature with Mark’s help, together with her
grandfather pulled Mark out of his funk. Mark may have gone off the deep end
for a short time, but he never lost faith that Ann would pull through and stuck
by her, proving he could weather the “sickness and health” aspect of wedded
bliss.
Ann’s adult son
Ritichie from her first marriage had been a harsh critic of his mother’s new
love interest with a former neighbor. After initial spouts of anger including a
right to the jaw, Ritchie manned up and decided to side with Mark when he
proved he was solid.
Mark was amused
about the Michels women’s excitement over a family wedding. He’d been genial
and accommodating. Maeve was standing up with him, along with Ritchie.
Ritchie’s wife Colleen was joining Rachel to stand with Ann—who hoped to be
able to stand through the ceremony. At least she could walk again, and she was
improving. They told their pastor to keep it short.
Ann tilted her
head to study her sister, which she knew Rachel hated. Rachel dropped her gaze
first, sniffing and reaching for the cup of coffee the waiter delivered to
their table. She ignored the scratch along the side of the forefinger of her
right hand. Bright pearls of blood had dotted a line like a rotary cutter. It
would probably hurt later.
Ann accepted her own cup and left it on the table in front of her to cool. “You were right. Peach is not my best color.”
“Mark’s wearing the tux Maeve found, isn’t he? And Ritchie? They’re still waiting on your majesty to get with a color scheme.”
Rachel and her twenty-year-old daughter Maeve, and the sisters’ mother Alice, had taken more interest in the wedding than Ann. Drooling occasionally from her affected left side, shuffling and droopy when tired, which happened way too easily, Ann would have preferred a simple ceremony in the living room of the house Mark bought them.
“You wouldn’t
have made purple your wedding color, either,” Ann said. “No matter who picked
it out. Love your daughter and all, but it’s still my wedding. And yes, Maeve
promised Mark she’d wear a dress.” It was the one thing Mark insisted on,
knowing that small token of traditionalism would please Ann.
Maeve had
turned tigress and emphatically nixed elopement. “He deserves a real wedding, a
celebration, Aunt Ann, and we’re going to do everything we can to make it
happen,” Maeve said, arms folded, golden eyes flashing in youthful indignation.
They had decided she and Rachel would wear fall colors, but Ann would make the
final choice. Since the ceremony would be held near the fall equinox, Maeve
declared a theme of changing seasons—Fall. Apropos in Ann’s case. Ann rubbed
her knee where a bruise had blossomed after her trip in the kitchen that
morning. Ann had always thought of fall as the time of dying, but her sister,
mom, and niece had run with the idea.
“Yeah,” Ann
muttered ungraciously in answering Rachel.
Rachel crossed
her legs and shifted slightly away, looking down bright walkway at gaggles of
teens and fast-trotting middle-aged women Ann wanted to trip with her cane. Rachel had been far too
forgiving these past weeks since Ann had gotten back from rehab. Ann was
spoiling for a smack down.
“Well?” She
challenged Rachel. Their minders, Maeve and Mom, weren’t there to referee. “Why
didn’t you get married when you got pregnant with Maeve? That’s enough to make
a man run. Me? I’m not rich or…or able. Why would I believe someone like Mark
wants to marry me? Even my kid tried to beat him off.”
Rachel’s jaw
muscle tightened. She lifted the cup to her lips with a shaky hand and lowered
it again. “Ritchie and Mark are friends now.”
“So? What did
you promise Mark to stay with me? You? Who couldn’t keep the man who made your
daughter?”
“You know
nothing about it.”
“I spared you
the indignity of asking. Were you even in love?”
Rachel twitched
her lips, pressed them together, but would not face Ann. “Does it matter?” she
asked in a quiet voice several heartbeats later.
“It definitely
matters. I need to know love is somewhere…was somewhere in the relationship.
That it’s possible love conquers…more than…more than all the problems it
creates.”
“I know you. I
know why you’re doing this, Ann,” Rachel said. “Quit wallowing in your own pity
party. You’re making a habit of it and liking it too much.” She fit her hands
together in prayer pose and stared at them. “I was just as scared, but I wasn’t
alone. And you’re not alone in this. Yes, yes, of course I loved him. I…I
always will. That’s real love. The ‘always’ part.”
Adrenaline
leaked out of Ann’s pores, leaving her on shaky pins and needles. “Do you know
where he is? What happened to him? How could he not want to see his daughter?”
“He doesn’t
know.” Rachel glanced at her briefly, puckered her lips and quickly turned
away.
Ann digested
the disappointment, wounded more for Maeve than anyone else involved. Except
maybe the man who was robbed of knowing the wonder of watching his child grow
into womanhood. “In many places, keeping such information from a parent is
illegal.”
“So is
adultery.”
Ann snapped her
jaw shut. Her deluded, goody-two-shoes sister must have been thoroughly
bewitched. Such a man who take advantage…no, maybe he didn’t deserve any
sympathy. “So…he’s married.”
Rachel cleared
her throat. “Couple of times.”
“You have been
keeping up with him?”
“No!” Rachel
shifted and folded her arms. “Just looked on the internet…since you and Mark.”
A glow started
in Ann’s gut. “You know, if Mark wants us, he deserves us. Everything we
are…the good, the bad, and the beautiful.” She reached to pat her sister’s
clenched hand. “But I decided. I’m not sharing.”
Rachel clutched
Ann’s hand. “You two need each other.”
“Ouch. Maybe I
should reconsider the pea green outfit,” Ann said.
Rachel looked
at her over the top of her glasses. “Maeve would kill me first, then you
slower.”
“Right.” Ann
let her neck relax. Generic instrumentals crooned over the mall loudspeakers.
“That reminds me…Maeve put the music together, right? For the ceremony? That
was nice of her friends to agree to play. Do you think it was an imposition on
them? With school and all. I hate to make everything hard.”
Rachel tilted
her head, as if listening to something in her head. “You’re not going to
believe this, but the three of them, Stacey, Paula, and Robert, were already
working on some American music for a concert. When Maeve told them about Mark’s
love of Appalachian folk music…”
Ann rolled her
eyes
“I think you’ll
appreciate this. Mark will love it. I heard them rehearsing the ‘Appalachia
Waltz.’ It’s so beautiful. Even you won’t trip.”
“Huh. Even me.
That kid is nothing but resourceful. I can’t wait to see what she does when
she’s through school.”
“I just want
her to get through school,” Rachel
muttered.
Ann turned her
head to look across the expanse of the court to the stores on the other side
when she saw it.
It…the perfect
outfit.
“Rach…over
there. On the left, no my right. Look. Do you see it?”
Rachel squinted
over her shoulder. “That thing in the window?”
“Yes…the lacy
one, pale mauve, that looks like it will float.”
“Lacy top over a sheath.” Rachel closed one eye and held up her thumb. “Guess it could pass for the back of a maple leaf in late color. It’s not peach…or pink. You’re still planning to walk down the aisle?” Rachel kicked the wheelchair Ann had been ignoring, pretending it belonged to someone else, even though Rachel had rolled it along from the last store and made it look like the third person at their table.
“I did okay
with the cane in the last store,” Ann said. “And I was tired.”
“If you fall
during the ceremony, that straight skirt will tie you every which way and
you’ll never get up.”
“You’re just
jealous this grandma can wear a sheath.”
Rachel raised
her brow. “Yeah, sis, that I am. That I am.”
Ann growled. “Listen
to me! I didn’t mean it. You are beautiful. You always have been. I’m sorry.”
“Yep. I know.
Hormones. Nerves.” Rachel smirked in annoying sibling calm as she faced the mauve
dress in the window. “Let’s go try it.” She glanced at her watch. “But due to
the fact that it will take us fifteen minutes to saunter over there and I have
to get you home in an hour…”
“All right! The
chair.”
The dress fit
and flattered. The color could have been mother of pearl but, unlike the pastel
peach, a hint of lavender accented Ann’s dark hair and pale cheeks.
<<>>
At the church
two weeks later, Ann hoped her niece didn’t think she was getting her way with
a purple bridal party. She studied her reflection in the full length mirror.
With the cane off to the side but still in reach, Ann could pretend she stood
on her own. Low-heeled shoes put her closer to the top of Mark’s shoulder
instead of his chin, but her desire for stability outweighed wishful elegance.
The shoes were still fashionably strappy and dyed to match the dress. A second
wedding was extravagant enough. Neither a white gown nor a veil at her age was happening.
She chuckled. Mark was the one who should wear white. A discrete slit up past
Ann’s knee hidden in an inner fold, allayed Rachel’s fears of strangulation.
Rachel appeared
in the mirror behind Ann. Ann reached to touch her sister’s image. Rachel
seemed off-kilter this afternoon, pale and wobbly in her draped and pleated, darker
rosy-colored gauze dress; Colleen and Maeve’s outfits were a similar color but
another complementary shade deeper with accents that matched maroon streaks in
her hair. Alice laughed and Rachel had yet to comment after Maeve arrived at
the church on Madison’s south side that morning with her new style. Ann thought
it was pretty.
Alice and Maeve
were too serene against Rachel’s discombobulation, which ratcheted Ann’s
tension.
“Where’s Dad?”
Ann turned from the mirror to fiddle with her cane, bending over it to check
for the zillionth time how close it came to tangling in the long hem of her
dress. They’d said a definite no to walkers, and when Ray had asked if she and
Mark were sure about having a deaf old man to hobble down the aisle, Mark had
been the one to quietly reassure his future father-in-law that he’d couldn’t
imagine marrying Ann any other way.
Ann tugged on
the ribbon crisscrossing the smooth cane that Maeve had tied yesterday. “Hmmm?
Who’s picking him up? Ritchie?”
Ray had not
wanted to dress in the church, and had to be coerced into a nice outfit at all.
Casual flannels and loose-fitting chinos to cover his bowed, gimpy gait were
his preferred uniform, no matter the event.
“I suppose his
shoes don’t fit.” Ann looked up when no one answered.
Maeve and
Rachel stood arm-in-arm to one side, while Mom held out her hand and approached
slowly. “Honey, we took your dad to the hospital last night. He’s all right…”
The roar of an
artic blizzard blasted Ann’s spine and shut out the rest of her mother’s words.
“We can’t do
this.” Ann pushed past them toward the door of the comfortable room they had
commandeered. “Not without him. I have to go. Why?” She became dizzy with the
inability to decide whether to be afraid or angry, and which direction to go. “What’s
the matter with him? He’s too tough to…to… I presume you told Mark. Why not
me?” She whipped around too quickly and wobbled. Naturally the door opened as
she reached it and bashed her elbow.
“Ow…” She felt
herself falling but grasped in firm hands before she collapsed. “Ritchie,
what…thank…never mind.” She pulled herself slightly away from her son—hers and Gene’s
from her long-ago broken, complicated marriage. Ritchie was a strong young man,
a physical education teacher with a lovely wife and adorable son, and perfectly
capable of keeping his mother from hitting the floor. “You’re driving,” she
told him, massaging her funny bone. Never mind that he was all grown up and a
father, she was still his mother and could boss him about.
“Mom, wait.”
Ritchie kept
hold of her arm, which was a good thing when Mark appeared, framed in the
doorway. Brides were supposed to steal their wedding day, but Mark, dressed to
slay any hint of doubt, took her breath away.
His
self-conscious grin failed to hide the worry in his eyes. He glanced between
her and Ritchie, then behind at Alice. “I—”
“If Ritchie’s
not driving, you are,” Ann said and took a step toward him.
Mark put his
hands on her shoulders and gently drew her from the room. He nodded at the
audience and closed the door. In the dim hallway, heedless of her makeup, Ann
touched her forehead to her fiancé’s shoulder. “I can’t bear to lose another
thing, Mark,” She huddled in his embrace. The warmth of his chin near her ear
calmed her. She inhaled deeply of warm fabric and aloe of Mark’s shaving gel,
mindful of healing and relaxing powers in regulated breaths. They settled into
a rhythm, matching exhalations as they would for the rest of their lives.
“Ritchie and
Darren have a screen rigged with audio input,” Mark said quietly. “Your dad
will be here, if not in person. He can see and hear and talk.”
“I can’t
believe he agreed to that. I pictured him comatose, attached to…he’s in good
enough shape? He hates to even have his picture taken.”
“He loves you.
He’s doing well this morning.” Mark soothed his hand along her shoulders. “Your
mom will walk down the aisle with you. If you want.”
“I want.” She
wrapped her arms around him under the jacket and took in a few calming if shaky
breaths. As long as Dad was conscious and willing to sacrifice his pride, she
could manage too. “There seems to be a conspiracy going on. Is this what I can
expect from now on?”
Mark’s low
chuckle jounced her cheek. She lifted her face to study his. High cheekbones
and a straight nose were a perfect platform for his clear, deep blue eyes. He’d
let his hair grow a quarter-inch longer so it curled around the tops of his
ears. “We’ll come out of this all right,” he told her. “No matter what happens.
Your dad taught me that much.”
Ann reached to
finger the tiny cleft of his chin. “I know. I just…missed when Elle died while
I was in the hospital.”
“Your aunt was
a mighty woman. We’ll be together again. Ray managed everything like a pro and
I was honored to help. He loved his sister like he loves the rest of us.” He
slipped his palm around her cheek. “Okay? Can we finally get hitched? I’m not
getting any younger.”
“Funny man.”
Ann twitched her mouth. “I think I’m getting younger by the minute.”
“Well, then…”
His lips moved close.
Ann’s slow
smile straightened at the sound of high heels clicking along the hall.
“Hey!” Colleen,
Ritchie’s pretty wife, strode toward them. “Five minutes! The church’s tech
guy—Dar—Der—Da—”
“Darren,” Mark
said, winking at Ann.
“Anyway, he has
your dad up on the screen. He says it’s time to get the show on the road.” She
beckoned. “Where is everybody?”
The door
cracked open. “Safe to emerge?” Alice tiptoed over to straighten Ann’s collar
and pinch her cheeks. “Not that you need any more color. What’s this?” she
asked Colleen. “Ray’s in technicolor?”
Colleen nodded.
“It’s a little scary, having him so big like that, looking over everything.”
Alice nodded.
“Tell him to button his shirt.”
Colleen’s eyes
widened. She was still sweetly plump after giving birth to seventh-month-old David
who was sitting with his other grandmother in the church proper. “How did you
know?”
Alice’s eyes
twinkled. “Fifty-odd years of marriage does that.”
“Oh.” Colleen
looked like she wanted to take notes. Ann adored that girl, especially for
putting up with her prickly son.
They all turned
when the swell of two violins joining the piano for “Canon in D” rolled toward
them.
“Your father.
He’s so impatient.” Alice shook her head. She held out her hand. “He probably
has to go to the bathroom.” She glanced around. “Well? Let’s not keep him
waiting.”
“Don’t worry,”
Maeve whispered as she skipped by. “They’re just getting warmed up. You’ll get
your song.”
Ann sent her
best love in a last longing look at Mark before Maeve hustled him and Ritchie
around the corner. She passed her mother’s hand to wrap her arm around her
mother’s waist. With her other hand, Ann reached back to gather her sister and
daughter-in-law. “I love you all so very much.”
Rachel squeezed
back briefly, then pulled Ann gently down the hall. Colleen handed them
bouquets of dusty roses and baby’s breath. She and Rachel blew her a kiss then
took slower steps toward the altar.
“I’m doing the
right thing, I’m doing the right thing,” Ann muttered, looking down the
too-long aisle where Mark and Ritchie and Maeve made an entrancing trio. The
music began a repeat. “Tell me I’m doing the right thing, Mom.”
“You don’t need
me to tell you that, honey.” Alice nodded to the big screen to the left of the
podium. “We believe in you and Mark. He’s a fine man who’s loved you for a long
time. You’ll make him happy, mad, sad, and fill each with joy. There will be disappointments
and great satisfaction for both of you. That’s the way things go. We learn to
forgive and move on. It’s the way we are. But surrounding everything is love.”
As Ann and her
mom stood waiting for their cue, the music changed to the Appalachian Waltz Violins beckoned in stately
grace like a warm breeze inviting her to dance. How perfect. Rachel was right.
No one could trip with so smooth a joy-filled accompaniment.
Daughter and
mother matched each other’s halting strides. Alice kept her eyes on the man on
the screen with a suit jacket and boutonniere thrown over a hospital gown. Ann
studied the oxygen tubes snaked up his nostrils. His hair was plastered over
his forehead and a day’s stubble appeared magnified on the screen, but most of
all, he was alive and moist-eyed. Ann sniffed but steeled herself to stay
serene for Mark’s sake. Her mom’s hand tightened on hers as they began their
journey.
A few steps
from the groom’s party, Ann turned her attention to Mark. She was glad they had
broken tradition and seen each other before the ceremony, or she might have
gotten the shakes. She smiled in gratitude to her lovely niece who had finally
gotten her act together with Mark’s help and encouragement, and her son who
beamed with pride at Colleen.
A
throat-clearing from Dad sounded as the music faded.
“Alice and I
have already given our little girl—our eldest daughter—away once, so we don’t
have the right to do it again.”
Chuckles
fluttered around the room.
“However, we do
want to say that we are so proud of you, Annie, and your young man. Mark,
you’ll do right by the family, I know. You already have.” He raised one
blue-veined knuckle. “God be with you. Go on with you, now. Hitch.”
Alice laughed
as she kissed Ann on the cheek and took her seat in the first row of pews.
Ann handed her
bouquet to Rachel, and the cane to Colleen as she stepped into the security of
Mark’s hold.
<<>>
Ann would have to watch the recording of the ceremony to remember what she’d promised, and what their pastor had said. Snatches of the music, a cleared throat, the hint of a burning wick and melting candlewax roiled in her mind. Maeve had recited a poem, part of Song of Solomon, she said. Ann remembered Mark’s grasp of her wrist and elbow and his lips moving as he settled the warm ring in place. She wished her hands weren’t so cold. She’d repeated traditional vows, promising to love and honor Mark all the days of her life, then shakily sliding a matching wedding band on Mark’s finger.
She shook her
head when Colleen offered the cane. She’d float back up the aisle. Ann Roth was
capable of everything her former incarnations as Ann Michels and Ann Ballard
together could accomplish. Ann Roth could do anything. Too bad they’d planned
only a light reception lunch in the church hall and not a dance. Today she felt
like a tango—wild and passionate.
Ann perched on
a high stool next to Mark as their guests greeted them on the way to the church
hall. Maeve bounced around making sure the punch bowl was refilled, her
grandfather got a good view of everything, and the cake was ready to cut.
“That was the
perfect music, Maeve honey,” Ann whispered when her niece finally came to a
rest at her side. “Thank you.”
“It seemed to
fit.” Maeve shrugged. “Mark’s got good taste, and the kids were already really
into playing it.”
“Thank you. I
appreciate all the trouble you went to.” Ann waved her hand at the hundred
guests milling about enjoying finger sandwiches and nibble food. “And for all
this. You’re amazing.”
“You’re my
bestie aunt. And Mark’s a dream.” Maeve stared at Mark’s back where he stood
talking animatedly to one of his colleagues from the law office. “I don’t think
I…” She ducked her head and swiped at her right eye. “Anyway, I’m glad you
found each other. I can only hope someone will love me like that someday. Take
me away, and all that.”
Ann squeezed
Maeve’s shoulders. “You will. He’ll love you to the moon. I just know it.”
“Wasn’t it cool
having Gramps here? I mean, in a techy way?”
“And again, I’m
so grateful. It would have been hard to do this without him.”
“Ritchie will
take Grandma to see him pretty soon. She wants to take him a piece of cake.
Ready to cut?”
“Sure,” Ann
said. “Whenever you guys are ready. We’re planning to stop at the hospital,
too, on our way to the airport.”
“I’m jealous,”
Maeve said. “Hot springs…Idaho…mountains and fresh air. You’ll be in heaven.”
“I already am,
my sweet.”
Ann and Mark had looked at cake pictures from the caterer who Ann used to supply Ballard, Gorman, and Wicht, her former husband’s investment firm’s events. The one they’d chosen was three layers, frosted gently with raspberry and off horizontal white stripes, decorated with live flowers similar to ones in their bouquets added earlier in the morning. Mark’s choice of layer was a coffee chocolate since the cake was special for another reason; hers was toffee bits, and one layer was plain. “That should make everyone happy enough,” Mark had said with a grin. They’d done little else, since all the rest of the decisions had been easy enough. The church was free on a Friday morning, and the church secretary had worked with Maeve to arrange for a trio of praise band members to provide music. Maeve demanded charge of decorating and the groom’s party upon informing Mark she was standing with him.
Ann and Mark
had begun pre-marital counseling before Ann’s stroke and completed it once Mark
convinced her marriage was the only way he could be in her life. Rachel took
care of invitations with Maeve’s help, clicking through Ann’s personal
directory like it was her own. Mark’s family was complicated. He’d contributed
only the names of a few colleagues for the guest list, having returned to
Wisconsin after living away most of his adult life.
Maeve walked
slowly by Ann’s side toward the edge of the room and the cake table. Maeve
poked Mark as they passed. He bowed out of his conversation, kissed Ann’s nose,
and took up her other side.
Ann admired the
smattering of glittery, small gifts and cards lay on a table next to the cake.
They drew a small crowd and Maeve took out her camera. She’d set up a few
stills of the wedding party and the family earlier after the reception line
emptied. Ann let her and Mark decide what groupings and poses to arrange for
her lens. She was getting tired, and let Mark guide the knife for the first
cuts of the bottom, rosette-frosted layer of cake, maneuvering between flowers
while smiling for Maeve. Ann and Mark shared a piece while Maeve and Rachel and
others of their friends called out happy suggestions about where to smear
frosting. Ann shook her finger at one of Ritchie’s comments, which Maeve
gleefully captured.
When Ann
stumbled, Mark swooped her up and set her down gently keeping his hands under
her elbows. “Had enough party yet?” he whispered with a suggestive eyebrow
waggle.
Ann faked a
yawn. “It’s almost two in the afternoon. Nap time.”
Maeve thrust
Ann’s bouquet into her hands. “One last thing, Aunt Ann. Toss the bouquet. It’s
tradition.”
Ann smiled up
at Mark. He stepped back. She turned her back, twirling slowly to see Maeve’s
friends and the daughters of others she knew, even Rachel being drawn into the
group waiting to catch the flowers, a playful symbol of the next to be married.
Ann closed her eyes and gripped the pretty bundle of pale roses with both
hands. She whipped her hands up over her head and prayed they went toward the
general group of women.
At the oohs and
ahhs she opened her eyes and put her hands over her mouth. Mark laughed and
helped her turn to see Rachel glowering at the bouquet in her hands. Maeve
closed her mouth in time to get a photo, but the stunned look would remain in
Ann’s memory for a long time.
Ann clapped
with the others, then stood and waved farewell.
Their friends
quieted when Mark paused. He lifted Ann’s hand to his lips for a kiss. “Ann and
I wish to thank you for joining us today,” he told their guests. “We have had
an eventual year.” His gaze swept across Ritchie and his family, Maeve, and
Alice before resting back on Ann. “You have been so gracious welcoming me and
allowing me to be part of your lives. We are forever grateful for the love and
support you have given Ann and me.”
The dry eyes
Ann had been proud of suddenly spilled over. Her lips trembled in a smile
matching her husband’s. She squeezed his hand. “We love you all and appreciate
your witness on this special day. Help me wish my new husband a happy birthday!”
Two members of
the music trio, Paula and Robert, approached from either side, playing their
violins to accompany the traditional song. Mark scratched his nose and looked
up and around while they sang, but otherwise smiled.
“Wow, thank
you. I’ll never forget our anniversary. And now,” Mark said, “we have a plane
to catch!”
Laughter
lightened the mood. More hugs, kisses, and thanks from Maeve and Ritchie,
Colleen and the baby bolstered Ann’s flagging energy level. Rachel stepped up
for a last hug, still carrying Ann’s flowers. Ann grinned. “Really? How hard
did you have to shove Ellie Bambridge out of the way?”
“Silly.” Rachel
looked pensively at the flowers, then brightened. Her hug was tight and quick.
“I love you. Love you both. Be happy. Stay healthy.”
“I’ll try.”
“I’ll be here
for you always, Annie.”
“I know. Take
care of you.” Ann fingered the silky petal of the roses in her sister’s hand.
“And don’t rule it out, okay? Romance is
all it’s cracked up to be.”
“Mm. Maybe.”
“Like the song
goes, I’ll sister-love you forever. You’ve given everything to raising a beautiful,
fine daughter. It’s okay to think about yourself.”
“Never too
late, hmm?” Rachel said with a wink.
Mark bent down
to kiss Ann. “Never ever.”
***
© by Lisa J Lickel December 1, 2018, 2025
Fox Ridge Publications
Inspirational short fiction collection
The Michels Girls, Ann Michels Roth, Rachel Michels Friedemann, and Maeve Michels Kane, are characters from the Forces of Nature series and are entirely fictional, as are the character and settings of the series. They are not meant to represent any persons and are the exclusive rights of the author, Lisa J. Lickel. Excerpt from Meander Scar, courtesy of Black Lyon Publishing. Centrifugal Force and Parhelion excerpts, courtesy of Fox Ridge Publications. All rights reserved. Please enjoy!
Scripture quoted is from THE HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®, NIV® Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.® Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide.
The hymn, “By Vows of Love Together Bound” Words by Eleazor T. Fitch, music by Ira Heinrich C. Zuener, 1845, is in the Public Domain
The quote on Rachel and Gervas’s wedding invitation is from The Irrational Season by Madeleine L'Engle, Published January 1st 1984 by HarperOne (first published 1976) “Appalachia Waltz” by Mark O’Connor, 1993 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vguZmqHJ6OA Artists: Yo-Yo Ma, Mark O’Connor, Edgar Meyer Licensed to YouTube by SME (on behalf of Masterworks); Audiam (Publishing), CMRRA, & 2 Music Rights Societies
Published on Youtube on May 9, 2012 by the Piano Guys Artists: The Piano Guys
Published by SUMMIT BASE CAMP FILM MUSIC, EMI BLACKWOOD MUSIC INC, CHRISTINA PERRI D/B/A MISS PERRI LANE PUBLISHING Arrangement produced by Jon Schmidt Arrangement written by Al van der Beek, Jon Schmidt, & Steven Sharp Nelson Performed by Jon Schmidt: piano Steven Sharp Nelson: acoustic cello, & cello-percussion Music recorded, mixed & mastered by Al van der Beek at TPG Studio Piano was recorded and edited at big idea studios by Jake Bowen Video produced by Paul Anderson & Tel Stewart Licensed to YouTube by SME (on behalf of Masterworks); Warner Chappell, UMPI, EMI Music Publishing, Kobalt Music Publishing, UBEM, CMRRA, SOLAR Music Rights Management, AMRA, and 17 Music Rights Societies “Trumpet Voluntary” by Jeremiah Clarke, circa 1700 Published on Youtube on January 12, 2008 by Hui Bernard https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8lTTWraugCI
Artist: Stuttgarter Kammerorchester Album: Festliche Hochzeitsmusik Licensed to YouTube by NaxosofAmerica, AdRev for 3rd Party; UMPG Publishing, AdRev Publishing
Forces of Nature series published in print by Sisyphus Triumphant Publishing and available as a boxed ebook set.