

### A Wedding Disaster... Or Was It?

By

Sheila Holmes

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2014 Sheila Holmes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, locales or events is entirely coincidental.

Ebook cover and formatting by www.ebooklaunch.com

# Acknowledgments

This is the first book in the Wedding Woes Series. Yes, there are more to come in this series.

I don't think until now that I ever took seriously the words of my principal who told me, after a scheduled observation of my second period class, that rather than just teaching my classes, I put on five performances daily. His counsel was that I put those dramatic skills to work writing a novel. He didn't seem to care what kind of novel, just that I should write. Thank you, Dr. Hill. If you should ever dig this up and read it, thank you for encouraging me to do this. I'm just so sorry that it took me twenty years to act upon your counsel.

My adorable husband, Daniel, has always been my champion and prayer warrior. He has always thought I could do just about anything that I want to do. And, he pretty much lets me do just that... anything I want to do. But what I prize the most is that he prays for me to make the right choices, and do them "heartily as unto the Lord." I'm thankful Daniel is sharing this life with me, making the hard times more bearable, and the good times just hilarious. The Lord knew that I needed someone with an oversized sense of humor to counteract my gravity. He will always be the one-and-only love of my life.

DanniLaii, our adorable daughter, is far beyond all my expectations. She, like her father, can make me laugh when almost no one else can. She chooses daily to become an exceptional woman of God. She uses her spiritual gift of helps to minister to her mom all the time. I am so proud of her choice to follow the Lord in her life, and for bringing Carl into the mix, who acts as my "human garbage disposal," willing to eat anything I send home to him (and always brags on it, even though I know my cooking couldn't possibly be as good as he says).

Finally, I want to thank any and all who stumble upon this work of fiction. If I bring any enjoyment to your life through this "tall tale", I've done my work. I can hardly wait to complete the second in this series, and hope that you will enjoy this book so much that you'll be waiting with anticipation to read the next.

# Books by Sheila Holmes

Wedding Woes Series

A Wedding Disaster... Or Was It?

A Catastrophic Wedding Reception... Or Maybe Not?

Wedding Designed by Email... KiirstiAan's Nightmare?

Non-Fiction

With This Ring: Creative Ways to Give Your Purity Ring to Your Future Spouse

Christmas Romance Plans (How-to) Series

Christmas Romance: 25 Dazzling Days to Romance Your Spouse 'til Christmas

The Twelve Days of Christmas: A Romance Plan

Awesome Love Series

Becoming His Awesome Beauty: Volume 1

Becoming His Awesome Beauty: Volume 2

Fixing His Broken Ballerina: Volume 1

Fixing His Broken Ballerina: Volume 2

All in a Name Series

Joyful, Joyful

From Grace Abounds Grace (coming Winter 2016)

Table of Contents

Acknowledgments

Books by Sheila Holmes

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Book II Sampler

About the Author

### "And we know that all things work together

### for good to them that love God, to them who

### are the called according to his purpose."

Romans 8:28, The Bible.

# Chapter 1

Simply put, instead of her usual emails to me which consisted mainly of texting language, such as "RU", "luv u", "^5", "AAF", "88", "511", "AATK", "ABD", "AYTMTB", and various other ones I still can't make heads nor tails of, two weeks ago she emailed me the following:

Mom,

_I was thinking about our phone conversation day before yesterday. While we discussed all the minutia of my upcoming wedding, you told me some of the most outrageous wedding disaster stories I've ever heard. Instead of stressing and thinking, "_ Oh, no, what if any of those things happens at _my_ wedding?!" _, I started giggling while I was telling one of them to Evan, and we were both laughing so hard that he choked on his soda. I could hear him gagging and trying to catch his breath. It scared me so bad, because there was no way I could help him over the phone. He finally caught his breath and said that while he wanted to hear the rest of the story, he needed to "keep things more serious" until he could breathe properly again. He told me to save them until we go out tomorrow evening for dinner. I gave two of the stories titles (Drop-Dead Gorgeous,_ and _Corny, But Cute), and I'll share those with him then._

I got to thinking, though, when I got off the phone that you told me at last count you were either an attendant in- or a guest at thirty-two weddings since you were in your first one as a junior bridesmaid at age ten for your brother. (I believe your comment was something to the effect that you had seen some of the most unbelievable wedding incidents known to man, so much so that you felt like you could write a book.)

So... Why don't you? Write a book, I mean!

Nope, nothing else to say, just WRITE A BOOK!

Later!

KiirstiAan (Your Favorite Daughter, oh, yeah, I forgot, I'm your ONLY daughter, and your only child!)

After thinking about it (and praying about it for a couple of weeks), I emailed her back and simply said:

Ok! I'll write if you'll proofread.

Her simple email reply:

You're on!

My email reply to KiirstiAan:

_Why is it I feel like each story needs a title? I don't know. But, it's my story and I want it to have one. So, there you go. I'm going to call this one,_ The Bride Wore White... and Green, and Pink, and Blue, and Gold _._

Ok, it's named, I can start now.

# Chapter 2

Chelsea wasn't one of those girly-girl fashionistas who had been looking at wedding gowns since she was so young that she wouldn't know what a "girly-girl" or a "fashionista" even was. She was simply a young engaged woman who had loved looking at her mom's and dad's wedding album ever since her childhood and admired the beautiful dress (albeit so outdated that it was laughable) that her mom had worn the day she married Chelsea's daddy, some twenty-nine years ago.

Her mom was now in the presence of Jesus since the car crash two years ago caused by no, not a drunk driver, just a young guy returning home from college during spring break who fell asleep at the wheel that night and jumped the highway divider into the oncoming traffic lane, ending both her mom's life and his own. It still caused her sighs of melancholy each time she looked through the well-worn pages of her parents' wedding album.

She had never thought it could be any other way. It was just assumed that she and her mother would do the whole wedding-planning thing together for _her_ wedding day, probably agreeing on everything, including venue, food, flowers, attendants' dresses, right down to her own special-day gown.

That was one thing at which she and her mother had always marveled. Their tastes in almost everything were spot-on the same. But the assumption that they would plan that joyous event together was wrong, and now Chelsea was on her own. Her mom was gone, and her father was fighting his own terminal-cancer battle, having no physical or emotional reserves to assist her. He had saved money faithfully during the years for both Chelsea's college education and wedding, but when she'd bring anything up about her current planning stage, he would simply re-iterate that he trusted her judgments on "all things wedding." That phrase from her father always ended any further conversation. He was too weak and in too much pain to help this daughter that he so loved. Chelsea was asking the Lord continually to let her father be here to walk her down the aisle. " _Please sustain him long enough for my wedding day, Jesus,"_ was her continual prayer.

*****

So it was that Chelsea completed all the planning herself for her upcoming wedding. During those four months, she was assisted now and then by her four bridesmaids, but they each were unmarried and hadn't been through the process themselves, so their help was limited. Chelsea valued and leaned most toward the design opinions of her maid of honor, Delane, who was an art major with indescribably beautiful taste in both art and fashion. (Chelsea had actually purchased two of Delane's watercolors and posted them on the walls of her dorm room.) But, Delane as well as the others voiced their opinions, of course, mainly about their own attendants' dresses, which she duly noted, but again, the overall planning and decision-making rested heavily on her own shoulders. Chelsea's father had given her the instructions to pay for the attendants' gowns, as well as the flower girl's dress so that she could have full and ultimate control over what her wedding would be, without any of the grief heard of so often when bridesmaids want their own visions realized rather than the bride's. Since he was too ill to participate in the planning, he wanted to give her the ultimate gift of realizing _her_ vision exactly as she had it in her mind and dreams.

*****

Her wedding day arrived bright, sunny, and unusually warm for April. If there had to be a day with horrid weather, she was so grateful that the Lord had allowed yesterday to be that day. The sporadic downpours had made everything sparkle with a fresh newness, and Chelsea was beside herself with joy, excitement, and a large sprinkling of nerves. The joy and excitement were understandable. After all, it was her _wedding day_! But, what was the nervousness all about? She had meticulously planned every detail of this day, and frankly, it was coming together without a hitch.

Well, maybe "without a hitch" was not exactly accurate. There was the momentary panic when the bakery said they hadn't produced the exact design Chelsea so thoroughly explained and paid for. She had a dream vision of a four-tiered cake with very specific decoration detail. As soon as she laid eyes on this culinary creation, she exclaimed, "You're right. This isn't what I dreamed of. This is so much better!!!" It had three tiers and a much more stunning decorating design. Whew! _Thank you, Lord!_

Then, there was the snafu with the florist, located some twenty-plus miles north of the old country church Chelsea had rented to fulfill her Country Shabby Chic wedding dream.

While they had created the most magnificent arrangements for the old church she rented, and the bridesmaid's bouquets (as well as her own) were beyond perfection, they had completely forgotten the boutonnieres for the groom, his attendants, the father of the bride, the father of the groom, and a corsage for the groom's mother.

For a hefty charge, they had delivered her flowers to the church. There was no time today for them to now go back to the florist, design the forgotten items and return them to the church. Here it was, the morning of the wedding. What was she supposed to do now?

She was quick to admit that her confidence was in the Lord, but even so, a semi-panic gripped her heart. Chelsea looked up the address listing for the closest florist, jumped in her car, checked her watch and mentally recorded 9:14 a.m. (a little less than nine hours until the ceremony), and drove the ten miles to the local country town with its one-and-only florist. (And the term "florist" was being generous.) It was really a street stand with fruits, vegetables, and flowers that grew in their own home garden.

Jumping out of her car at the worn old stand, Chelsea carefully trod through the mud of yesterday's rain up to the stand and asked for help with the flowers. She noted that on the stand to the side of the main attraction of produce, there was a small basket with scissors, florist tape, wire, a small cluster of brightly-colored flowers, and a few spools of assorted colors of ribbon. Certainly not the makings of a floral business, but at this point, she was desperate! Her only encouragement at all was that the flowers were truly beautiful! But there were so few of them, not to mention the fact that they were random types of flowers, as well as a multitude of colors, none of which was a part of her wedding style or color theme. Chelsea just knew this was going to be an impossible task ahead of her.

The young girl running the stand pulled an iPhone out of her worn red gingham apron pocket. Chelsea giggled inside, because the stand, the handwritten sign above it, the old shanty in the background all spoke of decades past, not of the tech-savvy days of this decade. She listened as the girl held the conversation. "Nanny, this here girl wants some flowers... I don't know... she ain't from 'round here. Let me ask her." Raising her voice much louder than necessary, the girl asked Chelsea, "What d'ya need 'em for?"

"I need some boutonnieres and a corsage. Today is my wedding and the florist didn't bring me all the flowers I ordered."

The girl relayed that message to someone on the other end of the line, hung up, and within two minutes an old bent-over woman descended the rickety porch steps and joined Chelsea at the produce and flower stand. Her open-mouth grin exposed the reality of no teeth, which she asked pardon for, saying she couldn't find her dentures anywhere in the house before coming outside to help. Chelsea was heartsick. This poor old thing not only looked like she could drop dead of old age within moments, but she no doubt had no clue about boutonnieres, corsages, and generally what is appropriate at modern day weddings, even if they were held in an old country church in the middle of nowhere.

Chelsea knew it was fruitless trying to explain that she was going for a Country Shabby Chic wedding style. The old house in the background showed that the woman had a clear knowledge of country and shabby, but would never understand _chic_ joined with them.

Before Chelsea said even one word, the elderly woman crooked her index finger back and forth, signaling Chelsea to follow her. And thus the two walked, the elderly woman slightly ahead as they approached the house until they turned the back corner at the side and entered the backyard. Chelsea took a gigantic breath as she gazed at flowers that were unequivocally the most beautiful she had ever seen. It wasn't so much a garden as a small field of color that dazzled the eye. The sun was shining brightly and illuminated them until the view looked quite surreal.

The old soul never once asked Chelsea what her floral desires were. She walked into the flower field and began picking singular buds of this kind or that, Gold Stocks with their long stem and golden round orbed flower, massive handfuls of Goldentuft, and long-stemmed hyacinths in a multitude of colors.

Chelsea stood watching her, saying nothing. She was in somewhat of a shocked stupor that did not allow for words.

The old woman walked in and out of the rows of color, using the pluck-n-stuff method. Pluck a flower and stuff it into a large potato sack that hung from a looped rope thrown over her shoulder. At one point Chelsea realized that her own mouth was hanging open, and she consciously closed it. Her lips may now have been closed, but her eyes were still wide open, and as round as two silver dollars. She was contemplating two issues at once.

First, the old woman didn't know that she was single-handedly destroying Chelsea's color theme. She had decorated the entire country church with white and cream roses, and tied the pew rows together with looped strands of starchy white tulle. What in the world was she going to do with multi-colored hyacinths, Goldentuft, and Gold Stocks?!

Secondly, she was mentally calculating the costs of all these flowers as they were plucked and stuffed into the potato sack. The florist had charged her seventeen hundred dollars for the arrangements and bouquets that were already at the church, both in the main worship sanctuary and the downstairs fellowship hall, where the reception would be held. By her mental calculations, the elderly woman had already collected about two- or three hundred dollars' worth and was not giving any indication she was through. How in the world was she going to pay for this?! She had _maybe_ twenty-five dollars in cash between what was in her purse and any change she might find in the car glove compartment and between car seat cushions.

Even so, she did not say a word. She just stood in one spot and watched the elderly woman continue her mission, which seemed to be emptying as much of the garden's contents into the potato sack as was possible. Already the seams were puckering and yet more flowers were being placed within the sack's confines.

Several times during the filling of the potato sack, Chelsea would begin to speak in protest, but before more than a word or two came forth, the old woman would bounce a hand several times in Chelsea's direction, indicating that Chelsea needed to stop talking, that it was "interrupting the creative juices," a term she was sure the old woman had never heard in her life.

Fifteen minutes later, the old weather-worn woman just walked out of the garden with her filled potato sack, back around to the front of the house, to the produce and flower stand, leaving Chelsea standing in the backyard alone.

After a moment, she realized that the old woman was not returning, so she walked back around to the front of the property, and specifically to the stand where she saw the old woman bent over a table of sorts made from two crotchety saw horses with several old boards side-to-side perched lengthwise across the six feet of open expanse between them.

Walking around to the front of the old woman, she already began to see magic being performed, as the elderly woman created boutonnieres for each male attendant, the fathers, and a stunning corsage for Derek's mother. As she put the finishing touches on the corsage and never lifting her head, she asked a question of Chelsea, "Do ya have any o' that see-through material they use at weddin's, I think they call it "twool" or "tullie"?" Chelsea knew exactly what she was referring too and responded that she had some left after decorating the church, it was in the trunk of her car, and quite a bit actually. The old woman told her to go get it, and continued working over her floral creations.

By the time Chelsea returned with the tulle, the old woman was potting collections of multi-colored hyacinths in some old cracked pots. She grabbed the offered bolt of tulle from Chelsea's hands and began cutting lengths of it and wrapping the pots, tying a large fluffy bow with long streamers on each one. Although the pots were not the same colors, nor the same size, there was actually an elegance about the collection of them. _"Wow,"_ thought Chelsea, _"These are actually..."_ , and the last word in fact exited her mouth, "Magnificent!" The old woman never looked up, but a small half-smile formed on her dry, cracked lips.

In total, the old woman had made eight boutonnieres (she said she made an extra one to give to the pastor), the corsage for Derek's mother, ten potted arrangements, and filled a grocery bag with copious amounts of both Gold Stocks (to use how and where, Chelsea didn't know), and Goldentuft (for which she instructed Chelsea to pull the flowers and throw handfuls along the middle aisle floor to represent "walking the golden way" (whatever that meant). The work was done and Chelsea had no choice but to ask the inevitable, "How much do I owe you for all this?" Holding her breath, she waited for the old woman's answer. "How's fi'teen sound?"

"What??? Fifteen dollars???"

"Yer right, that's a bit much, ain't it? Weddin's is 'spensive enuf, ain't they? Let's say twelve. Kin ya do twelve?"

Chelsea stood there not responding at all. Her mouth was agape, her eyes were open about as wide as possible, and she kept shaking her head from side to side, trying to ascertain if she had heard the old woman right. After a full two minutes, she simply nodded her head, then watched the old woman and the young girl, who had already begun loading them, pack the wedding floral treasures into the car's front passenger seat, the floor below it, the seat and floor in the back, and the entire trunk.

Placing a twenty dollar bill on the produce/flower stand, Chelsea walked back to her car and took one last look at everything just purchased, then closed doors and the trunk. As she was opening the driver's door to climb in, the old woman hobbled around to her, grabbed both Chelsea's hands in her own two old crooked-fingered ones, and bowed her head. "Jesus, ya created all these flowers an' ya created this young woman an' her sweet man to love. Thank you. Now make this the most beautiful weddin' they could ever 'a' thunk of." She gave a final squeeze to the bride's hands, and Chelsea drove off, knowing that somehow the Lord would honor this old woman's prayer. _Although how all this circus color would fit in, she did not know!_

*****

# Chapter 3

KiirstiAan's email to me:

Well, Evan and I have been reading this story together, but had to stop, because Evan and I both started crying. (I just love that he cries at movies and sad stories... Well, maybe I mean emotional stories.)

That old woman that helped Chelsea with the flowers just got to us until I was actually sobbing. What makes me like that?! But, I didn't feel so silly when I looked over and Evan had this one big tear rolling down his cheek.

Old people get to me anyway. They just seem so helpless, but add to the mix that she seemed to have such a heart for the Lord, and I was hooked! We both loved the way she prayed with Chelsea at the car. Precious old thing.

By now you know I was serious when I told you to do the whole wedding-planning thing yourself. I might feel guilty about it, but when you told me you did the same thing to Grandma, I guessed you'd understand. I just don't care about that stuff, and I know you will make it gorgeous.

Anyway, I hoped you wouldn't mind if we went with Evan's idea this time. He just mentioned to me this evening that he has a personal friend who has a florist business and he would like us to use him. Is that ok? Actually, I assumed you wouldn't mind it at all, since the wedding date is so close and you haven't been able to locate a florist who will take on that big of a project this close to the date.

Thanks, Mom, for all you're doing!

My email reply to KiirstiAan:

I know what you mean about the little old lady. Wasn't she a sweetie?!

No, Honey, I don't mind at all going with Evan's friend for the flowers. I've called so many florists within a twenty-five mile radius, and am convinced there are none who'll take us on. I am so relieved. A real weight has been lifted off my shoulders.

Have Evan either give you the man's name and phone number and you can give it to me, or Evan can call me himself. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I'm sooo relieved.

Let me know what you think of the rest of the story.

KiirstiAan's email reply to me:

Oh, Mom, I can't believe I almost forgot to say anything.

When I called Tricia yesterday to ask if she'd be one of my bridesmaids, she asked if she and Mark could make our wedding cake. (You know I told you they started a catering and wedding cake business this year. They don't have a shop yet. So, they're doing it at their house. She said they've already been given four orders for wedding cakes.) She said that you and I can give her a picture of what we want and they'll duplicate it.

Anyway, I just couldn't bring myself to tell her no. She and Mark are so pitiful trying to get this business going. She said that would be their wedding gift to us. I know they don't really have any extra money for a gift. (BTW... She was so excited when I told her you are paying for all the bridesmaid dresses. She told me flat out that she couldn't have been in it if she had had to buy her own dress.)

Have I totally blown it accepting her offer?! Please tell me you haven't already paid for one to be made from somewhere else.

My email reply to KiirstiAan:

To be honest, Sweetie, yes I have another bakery commissioned to do the cake. I paid them a two-hundred and fifty dollar non-refundable fee.

_I guess it'll be ok for Tricia and Mark to do it. Do they have enough experience? Have you seen any of their cakes? It makes me a little nervous not knowing their skill level. No, actually it makes me a_ lot _nervous not knowing what their skill-level is._

But, the cake I selected was going to be twelve hundred dollars, so we're still ahead financially, I guess.

Yes, Cutie, it's ok.

Just do me a favor, Sweetie Pie. From this point on, don't make any decisions before talking with me first, unless you prefer to plan the wedding yourself with me just helping you. And, BTW, that would be fine. I wouldn't be offended. We need to keep a handle on the budget, but other than that, I'm amenable to whatever you want to do.

We just want your wedding to be everything you want it to be!

KiirstiAan's email reply to me:

_No, I still want_ you _to plan the wedding!_

Thank you, Mommy! Thank you for helping me keep my word, and for not freaking out over this. You're the best!

Gotta go. Evan and I are going to have some dessert and coffee and finish the story.

(Still can't help thinking about that old woman. Wish I knew who she is, where she lives, if she's even alive. I think I'd go get some flowers from her... a whole mess of 'em.)

# Chapter 4

As she drove back the ten miles from the "florist stand" to the country church, she quickly checked her watch. Today's timing was not turning out to be as Chelsea expected. Lunchtime would be here soon enough. Her stomach was growling for a bit of sustenance and the car needed some gas, and she needed to get going if she was going to get back to the church at all. Stopping at a Gas-n-Grab, she put three dollars of fuel into the tank and while paying at the inside checkout, grabbed a bag of chips. She really could use some healthy food, but there was no time, no restaurants, and no money left to spend on a meal. The chips would have to do.

Another twenty minutes and she was pulling into the parking lot to the side of the church. The dirt parking area, the stone steps to the church entry, and the faded and peeling paint on the church exterior seemed charmingly Country Shabby Chic when renting the facility, but at times like this moment, when she needed to walk the flower arrangements through the rain-produced mud, the charm was wearing thin. Her rose-colored glasses were a bit murky, to say the least.

All flowers and arrangements were now lined up on the church front steps. They did look sweet, but was she willing to totally give up her vision of white, cream, and ivory?

Well, there was already the green of her attendants' gowns, so it's not like she was not having _any_ color. Plus, she had purchased them, and something in her memory about the way that old woman lovingly designed them, then prayed with her before she left the stand tripped a switch in her that told her she simply must use them.

Grabbing the largest two hyacinth-planted pots, she opened the church doors and walked into the church sanctuary. Both were heavy and she ultimately had to place one on the floor and carry the other one to the front, where she set it down to the left of the pulpit, already adorned with beautiful roses. She didn't even analyze how it looked. She simply went to the back and picked up the other pot and marched it up to the front and placed it to the right of the pulpit. Stepping down from the elevated stage, she took maybe three steps, turned back and gazed up at the flowers.

_Oh my... they looked really sweet!_ After blinking at them a moment or so, she exited the church and grabbed the next two smaller ones. This time she walked at a very clipped pace back up to the pulpit and distributed these two pots on either side (and slightly to the front) of the large pot to the left of the pulpit, almost touching the large pot. By now, she was so excited that she literally ran out the church doors, returning with yet another two pots, and placed them into a cluster with the large pot on the other side of the pulpit. That made two clusters of three pots each on either side. _Oh, my goodness_... Was she delirious, or was this as adorable as she thought it was?!

Four more pots remained, each with three different colored hyacinths shooting out of them. She put two of them at the back of the church in the vestibule, one each on either side of the guestbook stand. What to do with the remaining two pots? Huh!

_Ok, let's see..._ She didn't think any more of them were needed in the sanctuary or vestibule.

She walked out the church double doors and stood. Should she just leave these last two pots of hyacinths on the church steps? She placed them on each side of the top step leading to the doors. It didn't seem quite right. Maybe she should place them on either side of the church doors. No, that wasn't right either. Taking a quick look at her watch, she noted that time was rapidly getting away from her, and she was due to meet her attendants down in the bride's room at 2 p.m.

Leaving the two pots where they were and looking back in the church through the open doors, she spotted the two clumps of flowers she had left on the floor in the rear of the sanctuary. She walked purposefully to the Goldentufts. Quickly pulling handfuls from their stems, she sprinkled the small flower petals along both sides of the middle aisle, creating "the golden way." _That old woman was right, it does look like some kind of regal walkway on which the bride should enter._

What to do with the Gold Stocks. They weren't very impressive looking flowers, just a long stalk at the end of which was a completely round ball of golden flora. Her first impulse was to simply toss these in the nearest garbage receptacle, but she realized quickly that she just couldn't do it. So... what to do? What to do? No inspiration answered her twice-asked question.

Walking up the right outside aisle, she proceeded to the front of the sanctuary with a cluster of five or six of them. Calculating nothing, and with no inspiration whatsoever, she poked all of them into one of the pots on the stage. Then, she spread them out a bit within the same container. The stocks were rather wilted, so that rather than standing erect, they folded over the pot's edge with almost the effect of water cascading over a waterfall. _Interesting_.

Marching back to the rear of the church, Chelsea grabbed all remaining Gold Stocks and hurried to the front of the sanctuary again. Counting quickly, she found that she could evenly distribute them in the two clusters of pots, which she did, even more quickly than she was already working once she glanced at her watch.

Whoa! _Times a-tickin'_ , she thought. She grinned as she caught her mental phrase. She'd never said that aloud in her life, but somehow it seemed right in this rustic setting.

Walking yet again to the rear of the church, she took one final perusal of the entire room. First her eyes went from the roses (the main arrangement), to the hyacinths in their pots, then her gaze slid down the Gold Stocks to the "golden way." _Magical!_ It hit her consciousness for the first time that she actually thought that old woman knew exactly what she was doing with flowers, maybe not by training, but by listening to the Master as He gave her instructions on what flowers to gather for Chelsea's wedding day.

Chelsea took the two boxes that held boutonnieres to the groom's room, which was to the right of the stage, through a door, into what turned out to be the pastor's study. The groom's mother's corsage was placed on the guestbook table. She would ask Delane to pin it on the groom's mother when she arrived.

Walking out the church, closing the doors, Chelsea began pacing back and forth at the base of the steps. _Wow, there was a lot of mud here. Her guests were not going to be excited about walking through this to get into the church!_ One problem at a time. She still had those two extra hyacinth pots.

On one of her turns while pacing and thinking, she noticed that in the open field to the right of the country church there was what looked to be a small white produce cart or wagon, she wasn't sure which it qualified for. It was small, maybe three feet long, had old rusty wheels that looked way too big for this little cart, and a rusted long handle, with which to pull it. The white paint held almost no shadow of its former glory, mostly this was an old wood cart with patches of crusty white paint hanging on for dear life. A small cry of victory escaped her lips as she ran through the mud puddles to retrieve the cart. Bringing it up to the steps of the church, she lifted it up the stairs, set it to the right of the doors, placed the two remaining pots in it, and propped the handle in an upright position.

Country Shabby Chic!

*****

# Chapter 5

KiirstiAan's email to me:

Mom,

What exactly IS "Country Shabby Chic"?

I know my wedding theme is "English Country Garden", and I have a good handle on what that is, but when Evan asked me what "Country Shabby Chic" is, I just sat there scratching my head.

How does it differ from Evan's and mine?

My email reply to KiirstiAan:

"Country Shabby Chic" is a mixture of all things country (old vintage distressed furniture, old country churches that desperately need a paint job, etc.), all things shabby (again, old-looking, rickety furniture that has paint worn off it, but clean, not to be confused with dirty, just old and in need of some TLC, old moldy flower pots that are mismatched, etc.), and all things chic (crystal light fixtures, beautiful old lace, white tablecloths, and antique silverware).

I think that's the best I can do for you. Actually, you might want to go online and Google the term Country Shabby Chic and see what you find. Make sure you look it up in Google Images.

Also, in Country Shabby Chic, garden flowers are important. Either whites and creams are the order of the day, or... bright multi-colored flowers in every hue available. The white and cream thing is more refined, while the bright colorful flowers are more cheerful and fun.

"English Country Garden" is more elegant. It's like its name, I think. English gardens are laid out very methodically and elegantly. Colors are usually blues and pinks. Beautiful wrought iron gates with floral vines and flowers dripping from them. You will fit in beautifully with the theme. Your gown makes you look like an elegant country lady walking through her garden to have a tea party. (Boy, that last statement looks really corny written down.)

You better just Google that term too.

KiirstiAan's email reply to me:

_Evan and I Googled both terms. You really nailed them. And, of the two, I love_ _my theme better. Oh, boy, my wedding's going to be gor-geeeee-ous!_

# Chapter 6

After a few small jumps into the air, and with elation that had never been known to mankind, Chelsea remembered the other problem. Oh, yeah, the _mud_! Thankful for technology, she grabbed her iPhone out of her jeans pocket and dialed the church pastor's number. After informing the minister of her mud-dilemma, she relaxed when he told her to walk around to the left side of the sanctuary and she would find a large piece of particle board, painted white. He explained that they often propped the board up the steps as a ramp for this exact situation on Sunday mornings. It certainly wasn't fancy, but once she labored to pull it into place, she realized that quite frankly, it just lent an extra layer of Country Shabby Chic.

Extra two hyacinth pots in cart. Mud puddles covered in front of church. Check and check. Everything was back on track!

Chelsea was a couple of minutes late in arriving to the bride's room, but only three of her four attendants had arrived so far. Because the room was entered through a basement door at the side of the church, it was possible that her fourth attendant was out front, wandering around, trying to find where to enter to join the other bridesmaids. The groom and his attendants weren't supposed to even get there until one hour before the wedding.

Because Chelsea's father was so ill, he had been unable to attend the rehearsal last night and the dinner afterward, so it was agreed that at 2 p.m. today, he would join Chelsea and her attendants at the church. His tuxedo was hanging in the groom's room. Chelsea was grateful, as she gazed at it, that Delane had driven him here in her visiting parents' RV, and that he was able to come at all, for that matter. She had told Chelsea that she would take full responsibility for him today, bringing him now and taking him home anytime he required, after the wedding. How blessed she was to have her father present to walk her up the aisle, and also claim Delane as her own selfless friend. Chelsea didn't discover until later that on her own, Delane had taken the tux to the RV, along with the boutonniere for her dad.

Taking no more than five minutes to get into her wedding gown, Chelsea didn't bother with hair, makeup and veil. Her purpose right now was to give her ailing father an opportunity to have a practice run at walking her up the aisle in this large princess gown. He was now seated in the church, just waiting for her to call him out to the front church steps, where he would provide her an arm to hold, walk her into the sanctuary, down the aisle, be instructed exactly as to what his further contribution would be to the ceremony, then be whisked off into the borrowed RV parked at the church's rear, where he could take a nap before being helped to dress in his tux for the actual wedding.

All four of Chelsea's attendants were now present and accounted for, none of them dressed in their gowns. They each sported whatever casual clothes they arrived in, planning to dress and complete their makeup and hair within the last couple of hours of the ceremony. Right now their only job was to assist Chelsea however needed.

Asking Delane to go into the church and bring her father out onto the church steps, Chelsea then sent the other girls off to go down into the fellowship hall to do some mundane last-minute preparations.

Chelsea's dad was in the front right pew with his head bowed. Delane knew he would be praying, and that it would be petitions on behalf of Chelsea and this wonderful man God had provided her.

Delane did as she was bid and asked Chelsea's dad to come join her on the steps, and told him to be prepared for how large her skirt was. She noticed his pallid color, frailty, and general lack of wellbeing, and made some silly comment about if he got tired walking Chelsea up the aisle, the skirt of her gown was so huge that he could just lie down on it and Chelsea could drag him up the rest of way to the pastor and her waiting groom. All he could manage was a half-smile as he slowly walked back to the entry of the country church. Delane remained in the sanctuary, picking up and re-poking in two Gold Stocks that had fallen out of the pots up front.

While waiting for her father to come outside, Chelsea stood on the plywood board that covered the steps of the church and muddy bog at the base of them. She patted and adjusted the folds of her gown, thinking to herself that all things considered, her wedding plans had come together relatively easy, only marred by the moments divided between the cake incident and the circus-colored-flowers situation. Both had been tamed into submission by God's Grace. _The same Jesus who told the storm, "Peace. Be still," and it did, had resolved the two issues of her wedding, for no other reason than His Love for her._

Resting in a very real and poignant peace that moment, Chelsea was not prepared for what happened next. It was so fast, so unexpected, and as it was occurring, she felt like she watched it in underwater slow motion, knowing there was not one thing she could do to prevent it. Not one thing!

Chelsea looked up to see her father coming out the church doors and heading slowly toward her down the steps which were now covered with the plywood. Immediately she saw his distress and lack of sure footing. She stood frozen in her beautiful wedding gown, as Chelsea could see the inevitable fall that her father had already begun.

As his legs crumpled and he began his descent into darkness, she jumped toward him and grabbed him. Her reflexes were fast. But, while she did indeed grab hold of him, she also pulled him back and to the right, directly off the plywood edge and into the soggy grass. She fell at an angle on her right side, with her father's full weight lying on top of her prostrate body. He was out cold, and she couldn't lift him off of her.

The sound of her scream was unearthly her attendants told her later that evening. She explained to them at that later time that it was born of a combination of physical pain caused by her father's body falling on her, her fear that perhaps he had just died, and knowing that her wedding gown had been trashed in a wet, soggy clump of grass.

Delane came running toward them with the remaining three bridesmaids directly behind her. As Chelsea continued to cry out, sprinkled with intermittent moans of pain, she and her entourage of attendants pushed and pulled, until Mr. Dayton was lifted and carefully placed prone on the plywood board, head elevated.

Chelsea jumped up the very moment her father was off of her, and dove for his side. Delane told another of Chelsea's attendants to phone 911. Chelsea was on her knees, pleading with her father to wake up, and after a minute or two, he did just that. He was far too weak to stand up, but at least he was alert.

"Thank you, Jesus!" was Chelsea's exclaimed prayer of praise. And, if it escaped her mouth once, it rang through the air five or six times more.

She asked her father how he was. Rather than responding to that question, he said quietly, but firmly, "Call 911 and cancel the ambulance. If you think I'm letting them haul me off and possibly not let me return to give my daughter away, you don't know me very well." Since he had the strength to present this challenge to the cluster of young women, he backed it up by standing. He then simply turned away and walked slowly back into the church and sat on the closest pew, leaving Chelsea standing on the plywood ramp with Delane who quickly phoned 911 to cancel the ambulance.

It was at this moment that all her attendants, except Delane, let fly what were both screeched and screamed comments simultaneously, "Chelsea, your dress!", Oh, no, her gown!", and "Lord Jesus, what do we do now?!" When Chelsea looked down to where their gazes were cemented, she saw a streak of grass stain varying in widths from one-half inch to two full inches that went up the right side of her gown, from hem almost to her knee, not to mention the engulfing watermark that fully surrounded it.

This was truly the worst disaster that could ever happen on her wedding day... or was it?

*****

# Chapter 7

KiirstiAan's email to me:

You have got to be kidding!!! Her gown??!!

I've heard of brides getting makeup on their gowns while doing last minute face repairs before the ceremony, but without exception they were able to get the stain out, either with Resolve (that fabric stain remover), or soap and water. At least I think it was soap and water. Somehow that doesn't seem right. Oh, well...

No, wait. I take that back. I was a bridesmaid in a wedding where the bride's niece spit up on the gown. It was small, but the stain wouldn't come out. The bride's mom was a quick thinker and had brought along a sewing kit. In it was a tiny little lace applique (two inches across) that she stitched on right over the damage. It wasn't something I would have been pleased with, but it certainly didn't look tacky. In fact, I feel certain that no one noticed it. I guess you just do what you have to do, right?!

Wow! I guess you just don't know what that magical day will bring about, huh?

Oh, Mom... you haven't said anything more about venue. Are you having any success trying to find us a church? (Can you believe that our own church doesn't have an appropriate room? According to the scaled model in the foyer, the wedding chapel was supposed to be completed long before now. I never heard why it was decided against, did you?) Somehow I can't imagine trying to pack our little group in a twenty-five-hundred-seat sanctuary.

Well, I think I've actually taken a deep breath and can go back to the story now. I am still floored that Chelsea's gown had grass stains on it. (What do you use to remove grass stains?) I think I'll Google grass stain removal. See? I really am trying to be thoroughly prepared for a wedding day emergency. Are you impressed?

Last night Evan and I only got as far as Chelsea's fall in the grass. We got sidetracked trying to find the florist guy's phone number. I think Evan is going to call you himself. Probably to give you a little information on the man. I've never met him.

Evan said he'd call me this evening after work, and I'm supposed to read the rest of the story to him then.

My email reply to KiirstiAan:

No, you really don't know what will or won't happen on your wedding day. I was so sick the last several weeks before your dad's and my wedding. I lost ten pounds. My gown was just a bit too loose.

On the day of the wedding I looked deathly pale, with a bright red nose. We had to have a theatrical makeup artist do my makeup that day so our pictures wouldn't be ruined. Up close it was thick and nasty-looking, but at least the pictures turned out beautiful!

Still contacting churches. I've called about twelve thus far, but I'll keep looking. I might need to go outside the city a bit. We'll see.

I have to admit, I'm in a bit of a quandary. I don't know if the church is more crucial or the reception venue. I know we want them separate. You've already said you don't want a church fellowship hall reception. It seems like whichever I call and tell them the date, they either laugh and say, "You're not from 'round here, are ya?", or they just say that I've got to be kidding. One venue actually hung up on me. I think they thought it was a phone prank. Anyway, they're all telling me that churches book weddings about a year in advance. But, don't get nervous. You know me. I shall persevere.

I have no idea what takes out grass stains. But, you've given me an idea. I've already removed the Stain Removal Guide from the back of our washing machine and put it in the wedding planning tote I carry all the time. Do I get extra points for being so smart?

KiirstiAan's email reply to me:

^5

# Chapter 8

Not a sound came from her down-turned mouth. From the sight of her ruined dress, the helpless attendants looked up to Chelsea's quivering chin, then further up to see one large tear flowing down from each eye. All the while, Chelsea remained frozen to the plywood board ramp.

Delane was the first to respond. She took several steps forward, wiped the tears from the bride's cheeks, took Chelsea's hands in her own, and asked a simple question of the bride-to-be, "Chells, do you trust me?" Chelsea only nodded in response. She wasn't sure what the question had to do with anything, but she did trust sweet, honest, talented, and faithful friend Delane.

"But, more importantly, do you trust Jesus, Chells?" Again, the nod.

To Chelsea's nod, Delane said, "Come with me," and reaching out she took hold of Chelsea's trembling hand. They walked hand-in-hand to the exterior left rear of the church, then descended the basement steps. Once inside, Delane told Chelsea to remove her gown, once stunningly beautiful, but now thought only to be worthy of residing in a rag bag. Her attendants assisted her. She now stood in her under clothing. No one spoke. Four faces with sad, hopeless countenances, and one face that had a partial, but hopeful smile.

The smiling face took hold of Keneisha's hand on one side, and MaryAnne's on the other. It didn't take much time for Brittany and the others to realize that Delane wanted them to join hands and gather in a circle around Chelsea.

"Lord, You have made it so clear that You want Chelsea and Derek to marry. In this church, on this day, with family and friends gathered to support them. I've got an idea, and I am wise enough to know that it comes from You. You're awesome! We love you and we're going to trust You to bring something ridiculously amazing out of this. Thank you, Jesus." And on cue, they all (including Chelsea), whispered, "Amen."

No one was sure what to do next, so they all just looked to Delane for direction.

"Chelsea, put on the clothes you were wearing earlier today. Keneisha, MaryAnne, and Britanny, take Chelsea to her dad in the church. All of you help him to the RV, give him something to eat or drink if he wants it. There's stuff in the RV fridge. Then have him lie down. Chelsea, the girls will come back to help me. You stay with your dad. Call Derek first, and tell him that you love him and you can hardly wait to become his wife tonight. Don't mention the dress ordeal. He has enough to deal with today himself. There's nothing he can do from a distance, and you'll be seeing him in a few hours anyway. Then, if you want to, lie down yourself for a while. If you fall asleep, don't worry. I'll come get you when it's time for you to do your hair and makeup, and, of course, dress for the ceremony."

"But, my gown..."

"Chells, do you trust me?"

Pause. "Yes."

"Girls, I'll meet you in the sanctuary in ten minutes."

*****

When Keneisha, MaryAnne, and Brittany entered the church ten minutes later, Delane was already there. The tragic wedding gown was draped across the left side front pew. Delane herself was seated cross-legged on the floor, and had a painter's pallet, all her watercolors, brushes, rags, Exacto knife, and other artists' tools spread around her on the floor directly below the steps leading up to the pulpit. The girls knew that she kept these tools at all times with her when she traveled, and in whatever vehicle she was using, but were surprised that they now lay spread out on the floor of the church, _any_ church. Delane herself looked to be in a staring match with the floral arrangements on the stage.

As the girls walked forward to join her, Brittany was the first to speak. "Lanie, what's going on?"

"I've got an idea and I need you girls to help me. But, mostly I need your prayers. I'm going to try something I've heard of and done internet research on, but never tried before. I don't want to waste any time, so I'll just let you know what assistance I need.

"If one of you could run to the parsonage and ask the pastor's wife if I can borrow a couple of large bed sheets. I need a clean surface here on the floor to work on. And, could one of you go down to the fellowship hall and bring me up a few containers of clean tap water. I also need a few butter knives from the church kitchen. One of the caterers can help you find them.

"Keneisha, you brought your hair-dryer diffuser, right? Could you let me borrow it? I promise to get it back to you in time for your own use before the wedding.

"Oh, yeah. For whichever one of you needs to know, the parsonage is the little white house two doors down to the left as you exit the church front doors. The pastor's wife's name is Bernie. Pastor said she doesn't like people to call her by their last name. It makes her feel old.

"I can't think of anything else right now, but just make sure you stick close to me as much as possible from now on, so that I can get your help when needed. And, in case I don't take the time to do this later... Thank you for being my friends. I love you girls so much. You bless my life."

After briefly talking with each other, all four of the girls ran out the church in different directions, depending on who was doing what job.

*****

While awaiting the attendants' return, Delane mixed watercolors with some fabric fixative from her artist's tool box. She had never used fabric fixative before, but it was a standard in most artists' tool boxes. Delane had read on several artists' blogs just this last week that it could be combined with watercolors, even though most artists on the blog said they'd only used it with latex paints.

By the time she had mixed five or six pale tints on her pallet, MaryAnne returned with three large bed sheets. Delane asked her to spread them out on the floor in the middle aisle.

"Lanie, are you trying to blend the right shade of white on your pallet?"

"I'm not mixing any whites at all. Come up close and see. Tell me if these tints look like they came from the colors in all the flowers in here."

MaryAnne came up to Delane's pallet.

"Oh, they're different colors, just really, really light. Yeah, they _do_ look like they're really light versions of the flowers in here."

"Good. I feel like I'm flying blind here."

"Lanie, I think they call this 'an act of faith.'" Pause. "When Keneisha and Brittany get back in here, we're going to sit on the last pew together, and when you're not having us run errands or help you, we're going to sit there, join hands and pray like crazy."

"Thank you."

She laid the gown out on the sheets, held her paintbrush in hand, glanced back at the three girls who were now seated together on the back pew, took a deep intake of breath and turned back around. From this moment on, Delane tuned out everything and everyone that was in that worship area. She was on a mission!

Because Delane's back was to them, the girls couldn't see what she was doing. But it didn't matter, because the three of them bowed their heads, closed their eyes, and began praying together. Sometimes they whispered in agreed prayer petitions, and other times they each prayed silently. They believed in what they were doing, considering it to be the greatest gift they could offer Delane, and ultimately Chelsea.

Thirty-five minutes passed. Keneisha lifted her head and saw Delane was standing, looking down at the gown. She squeezed the hands of the others. Almost in unison, they stood and walked up the aisle to where Delane was visually transfixed to the sight on the floor.

Within one minute, revival broke out in that small country church. The girls were jumping in the aisle, crying, laughing, shouting "Hallelujah!", hugging each other, reverently bowing their heads and praying a simple one-word prayer... the blessed name of "Jesus!" Five seconds of silence passed while they looked back down to the satin masterpiece on the floor, then it began all over again. More crying, more laughing, more shouting of hallelujah, more hugging, and more praising of the name of Jesus.

Delane reverently leaned down and carefully picked up Chelsea's wedding gown, now a splendiferous work of art. She hung it back on its original hanger, and then from the pastor's study door frame.

"Lanie, is that going to dry in time for the ceremony?" That came from Keneisha, the ever-practical one.

"I hope so. Did you bring your hair dryer and diffuser?"

"Yeah, here it is."

As she began drying the painted fabric, the girls stood around her, analyzing what beauty Delane had created.

Using the pale grass stain as the fauna background, Delane had painted watercolor multi-hued hyacinths, Gold Stocks and Goldentuft in and around the stains, as though they were growing in a field. Then, in an arc that began at the hem, surrounded all the flowers, then arced back down to the hem on the other side of the flowers, she painted a dimensional white tulle border with a bow slightly askew from the top of the border, along the wet watermark that had previously been considered a scar on the gown.

Brittany, who was known for her spiritual discernment, softly remarked, "Lanie, I believe the Lord placed you at this time, in this season, in this place for this one task, just as surely as He did Queen Esther for hers. Girls, the Lord has allowed us to witness His Miracle."

"Amen," from one and all.

"Let's go down to the kitchen and check up on things. I need a cup of coffee, and maybe a sampling of an hors d'oeuvre or something before starting hair and makeup," giggled MaryAnne.

Delane grabbed the gown and carried it as she followed the girls out the church doors and around to the basement stairs down to the bride's room. She hung it up on the room's door frame, used the diffuser on it a few moments more, then exited the room to join her friends in the kitchen for a sustenance break.

Those next moments were filled with recounting the story of today's "dress miracle," while looking around the fellowship hall, now decorated in delightful Country Shabby Chic, and congratulating Chelsea (although not even in their presence), on having achieved something truly special here. The only interruptions to their pleasant chatter were the oohs and aahs from each girl when sampling the hors d'oeuvres.

Perhaps fifteen minutes passed when Delane suggested that they should probably go get Chelsea, and check on her dad, as well.

Quietly they opened the RV door, and were surprised to see Chelsea and her father sitting across the table from each other, sipping hot cocoa and chatting. Yes, chatting as though nothing unusual had happened that day. The girls knew Chelsea well enough to know that this was all for her father's benefit. If she was calm, he would stay calm. They could tell by looking at her father, that he truly had no idea how badly the wedding gown had been damaged, and that Chelsea was ministering to him by not showing the anxiety dwelling within her.

Immediately letting her know that her gown was great and they were anxious for her to give the final ok on it, they told Chelsea she should probably go down to the bride's room and begin preparing herself for the ceremony. Before standing and leaving with her bridesmaids, Chelsea took her daddy's hand and asked him if he wanted to ask her any other questions about his ceremonial duties as father-of-the-bride. He assured her that he understood her instructions, and told her to go enjoy her day. He did ask that Chelsea send one of the groom's attendants to come assist him when it was time to get dressed. She assured him she would, gave him a tender kiss on the cheek, and left the RV.

The moment she exited and closed the door of the large travel vehicle, she looked fearfully at Delane and asked, "Lanie, what's the _true_ verdict on my gown?" All four of her attendants looked knowingly at each other with huge grins on their faces, then back at Chelsea. When Delane started to answer, Brittany interrupted saying, "No, no, no... Don't tell her. She wouldn't believe you anyway. Chells, you've got to see this for yourself! You've been highly favored by the Lord this day!"

As the other girls chattered all the way back to the church basement, Delane walked behind, glad that she could have these moments free from conversation. While walking, however, she noticed that three or four times before arriving to their destination, Chelsea, whose arms were crossed, extended her right hand to stroke her left side from the lower rib cage down to her hip. Once or twice, Delane probably wouldn't have paid much attention, but this many times gave her reason to think there was something wrong. She immediately flashed back to the fall in the front of the church. Chelsea's father had been dead weight when falling on top of her. Granted, Chelsea's dad had lost a lot of weight during his health struggles, but as tiny as Chelsea was, Delane wondered if her clothes hid any damage at the direct pressure point of that impact. She would ask her when they got back to their assigned dressing room.

Just before reaching the stairs that descended to the basement, Delane jumped in front of the group of girls to take first-in position. She wanted desperately to be already standing next to the dressing room door frame from which the refurbished gown hung, so that she could see Chelsea's honest first reaction to what she'd done to the wedding gown. (The first facial expression _always_ speaks the truth.)

Reverting to childhood practices, MaryAnn said, "Lanie, close your eyes and we'll guide you the rest of the way. We'll tell you when you can open them." The other two attendants began giggling. Keneisha , although laughing, threw out this rebuke, "What are we, like seven years old?!" Everyone but Chelsea responded with laughter. It was obvious that she wasn't convinced that anything of any repair success could have totally reclaimed her beautiful dress. It might be ok. It might even look nice, but these girls were acting like it was even more glorious than Chelsea thought it was when she purchased it. In her own mind the phrase "considering all it's been through" would no doubt be the truthful qualifier for how it would appear now.

Keneisha, MaryAnn, and Brittany each had a hand on either Chelsea's shoulder or arm, as they led her the last three steps down the stairs. At the bottom, they turned right and shuffled, in a cluster, just four steps and told Chelsea to stop.

"On the count of three, open your eyes."

"One, two..., three," they sang in unison.

Chelsea opened her eyes, which widened to a comical size, immediately began jumping up and down, clapping her hands, and squealing with delight! Tears ran mad dashes down her cheeks and dropped off her chin.

"This can't be my dress! My dress was ruined! I saw it! It was ruined!"

Delane was beyond joyful. Chelsea's face was guileless. And, the truth it spoke was as clear as if it had been spoken aloud. _"It's gorgeous and thank you, Jesus, it's mine!"_

After her trembling hands had lightly touched the pastel field of flowers, and run full circumference around the painted tulle border with its bow and flowing streamers, Chelsea turned slowly to Delane. She said not one word, but walked slowly the few steps to her, put her arms around Delane's neck, clung to her and wept. Delane responded with her own hug and tears. They stood clinging to each other.

After not more than one minute of this, practical Keneisha told the girls all to stop the crying or they would all have splotchy faces with puffy, nasty eyes when the ceremony began. It only took another moment for the girls to agree and dam up the floodgates.

*****

# Chapter 9

KiirstiAan's email to me:

You're kidding! You can paint fabric, satin or otherwise?!

True to myself, I did yet another Google search for fabric painting. (What would we do without the Internet?) I ended up getting the most information from an artists' forum. Almost all of them said they had painted on fabrics of varying types, but only with latex paints.

Two artists, though, described their success with watercolors, and one specifically on satin. (I wonder if that's the one Delane read.)

Hey, while I'm thinking about it...

I passed two churches today that looked to be the right size, and had a charm about them. Both of them were on Jeffrey Avenue. They're both medium-sized. One was Jeffrey Avenue Baptist Church, and the other was Christ Covenant Church. You might want to check them out. The Christ Covenant Church looked like it belongs in a travel magazine. You can go see it online, or drive by next time you're in town.

Momma, I hope you're not stressing over the venue locations.

I love you.

My email reply to KiirstiAan:

No, not stressing.

Yeah, I'll go look at both of them tomorrow. I have a doctor's appointment and drive down that street on my way there.

The fabric painting IS pretty amazing, isn't it?

KiirstiAan's email reply to me:

Doctor's appointment? Are you ok?

My email reply to KiirstiAan:

Yeah, Honey, I'm fine. It's just my yearly physical. And, I'm turning it into a fun time. I'm going to meet a friend from church afterward, Charlene. (You don't know her. She and her husband are new to church.) We're having lunch together, then maybe a bit of shopping afterwards.

Gotta run. Need to start dinner.

Let me know when you finish this story and what you think.

BTW... I'm so glad you're enjoying this story, but don't forget that if you think there are things I should include, exclude, or whatever-clude, you need to advise me. It's not just about your entertainment and checking for obvious grammatical errors and spelling.

KiirstiAan's email reply to me:

YB (means you bet!)

# Chapter 10

"You girls quit beatin' them mugs and messin' with them weaves, and do somethin' to make yo' mama proud!" This from Keneisha, in imitation of her dad's voice.

The girls broke into fits of laughter, mainly because they had heard him say this at least once every time they were at Keneisha's house. She was one of five daughters, all of which _did_ have weaves, except Keneisha. Her hair was long, straight, so black it was almost blue in the sun, lustrous and the envy of her four sisters. Her oldest sister was known for asking Keneisha repeatedly, "What kind of strange gene mix produced your head of hair? If your face wasn't almost identical to Momma's, I'd swear you weren't even related to us."

Makeup and hair done, Chelsea asked if they would put on their dresses before she donned her own. She wanted to see how they looked as they would walk down the aisle. She even had the bouquets in a large box on a small table in the corner of the room. She would hand them over to each girl for a moment's time to get the entire effect of her band of bridal attendants.

While the girls were changing, Chelsea's iPhone signaled an incoming text message. It said, _OPN DR ON FLR._ She walked to the door and opened it a crack. There on the floor resided a thick white envelope, bottom side up, secured with sealing wax that had been applied over a string which both secured the closure and kept Derek's purity ring dangling from it. Above the wax was a simple message: Dear Virtuous Woman, As of today, _this_ and _I_ belong to _you_!

Closing the door and returning to her folding chair in the room, she opened the envelope and began reading. Almost immediately the silent tears began to flow.

Delane was the first to dress, and as she returned to the room from the attached bathroom, she watched Chelsea as she simultaneously swiped away the tears, then rubbed her left side. After three repeated hip-and-ribcage-stroking movements, Delane determined to ask her about it while she helped her into her gown.

By now the girls were trickling out of the bathroom to "strut their stuff" before Chelsea, but they were slowed down by Delane, who was giving them the index finger vertically positioned across her lips with one hand, and the Stop sign with the other. Quiet reigned for the next few moments. When Chelsea's head came back up, she never offered to read it to them, but as she was closing the letter and returning it to the envelope, she whispered, "Jesus, I am crazy-in-love with this man You've given me." She grabbed her makeup bag from the floor, placed the envelope inside, then turned to her attendants who were all lined up.

"Ready for inspection, are we?" Chelsea had a serious "staff sergeant" look on her face that she couldn't hold, because it was almost immediately replaced with a grin and giggles.

"What????" This from all of them in unison.

"All I can think of is Red Lobster's Seafood Sampler. Just a little bit of everything! I know you're all wearing the same dress, but you couldn't look anymore magnificently different."

She was right. Keneisha had medium dark cocoa skin, stood 5'8" and had long, long black hair. Brittany was covered from head to toe with freckles, stood a scant 5'2", and sported medium length layered red hair. MaryAnne and Delane were both brunettes, but any similarity ended there. MaryAnne had medium-toned skin, barely reached 5' even, wore shoulder-length hair, and had startlingly blue eyes with lashes that were so long that she had to trim them every six weeks. Delane looked like she belonged on the cover of a fashion magazine. Her 5'10" frame was about two-thirds legs. Combine her long curly locks, exquisite facial features, and the truth was that it was almost impossible to not stare at her. And, the amazing thing... she seemed to have no earthly clue how stunning she was!

Adding Chelsea to the mix contributed even more variety. Her 5'6" frame wore a scant one hundred and nine pounds tops at any given time. Her sweetheart chin, huge green eyes, fair skin with rosy cheeks, and very, very blond medium length bob combined to give her the look of a Dresden doll.

Yep, they were a group not soon to be forgotten.

Now that the girls were adorned for the wedding ceremony, it was time for Chelsea to get into her gorgeous one-of-a-kind gown. She asked Delane to help her. Chelsea went behind a free-standing chalkboard and began slipping out of her casual clothes, while Delane lifted the wedding gown off the door frame and walked over to join Chelsea in the semi-private realm.

The girls watched Chelsea's feet for a moment below the chalkboard, admiring the adorable mid-calf white lace Victorian boots she had chosen to wear. She knew no one would see them until that moment when they were pronounced husband and wife, at which time she would lift her skirt, revealing the boots, and walk down the steps arm-in-arm with Derek. Chelsea thrived on the idea of that dramatic moment.

Once the girls resumed their laughter and chatter, Delane took a long breath, prepared herself to confront Chelsea about the rib-and-hip-stroking, and entered the dressing area behind the chalkboard.

Before the question could even be asked, however, she saw the bruise that extended the left side from Chelsea's ribcage down to her lower hip. Fortunately the girls didn't hear Delane's sharp intake of air. Chelsea's pleading eyes said not to comment out loud. Delane mouthed to her, "Is that from your dad falling on you? Are you in pain?" Chelsea shook her head slightly and whispered, "Yes, and no, not much. Please don't say anything to the others or Daddy. If it isn't better in the next day or two, I'll have my sweet husband take me to a doctor. I'm sure I won't be the first bride ever to visit a doctor or the ER on her honeymoon. You _could_ bring me a couple Tylenol and the bottled water in my makeup tote."

Delane mouthed, "Ok," and moved to get the pain pills and water. While completing her mission, she whispered a short prayer that the Lord would not let this injury mar Chelsea's enjoyment of her wedding and honeymoon.

When Chelsea floated out from behind the chalkboard, the girls all oohed and aahed. The comments made by the girls were so affirming to Chelsea, that she squealed.

"I do look gorgeous, don't I?!"

Laughter and the affirmative nodding of all heads let Chelsea know that she was absolutely breathtaking in her wedding regalia.

*****

# Chapter 11

Chelsea opened the vestibule doors just a crack and looked in at the congregation of family, friends and co-workers. The small country church was filled with both organ music and whispering lips. She could pick up remnants of comments, all in admiration of the music, the decorations, and wedding party attendants. She stole a moment's glance at the flower girl walking the aisle.

The church hostess and guestbook registrar removed her view, however, when they fully closed the double doors. During her short visual perusal, Chelsea had seen that Derek's parents were in their assigned pew, but Chelsea didn't have time to admire her waiting prince, because the organ opened the first chords of "Here Comes the Bride", her cue to enter.

Holding her father's arm, Chelsea drew him in close to her right side. She spoke a quick prayer that the Lord would give him strength through their walk up "the golden way", and the entirety of the ceremony.

"Daddy, when we get to the front, stay next to me. Then, say 'I do' when the pastor asks who gives me to be married to...," she began whispering.

"Chelsea, I have been to so many weddings in my life, I could do my part if I was in a coma," he whispered back.

They both grinned.

Chelsea squeezed her father's arm and kept on squeezing it, partly to support him and partly to be supported herself as they began their entrance.

With only eyes for her beloved Derek as they slowly made their way up the aisle, her ears were experiencing a whole different story. She could hear the phrases, "...stunning gown," "... and she's always been so elegant anyway," "... that gown is so her," " ... I want to look just like that on _my_ wedding day," and her favorite, "... and look at Derek, he's just in awe of her!"

The bridal entrance was beautiful, not unlike most. Very lovely, very sweet.

When they arrived at the front, Chelsea's father did his "father of the bride thing" perfectly, ending by placing Chelsea's hand in Derek's hand, kissing Chelsea's cheek, giving them a slight nudge to ascend the three steps to join the pastor, then taking the few steps to the left to enter his appointed pew seat.

Chelsea expelled a small breath when her father was safely seated. She briefly looked back at him, and when he smiled, she knew everything from here on in the ceremony would go flawlessly.

After the expected welcome, sharing some marriage insights, and generally setting the stage for the vows, Pastor Dayton asked them to face each other.

And that is when it happened...

Before their turn was even completed, a sharp gasp escaped the mouths of almost every person in the church, followed by whispering and finger-pointing.

Everything from this point was slow, very slow, like viewing it from beneath tons of water.

Chelsea and Derek were both trying to stay in the moment, but even the pastor had stopped speaking.

Derek looked beyond Chelsea to something behind her. She turned her head just enough to see the organist walking down from her instrument, to see what they were all pointing at. Chelsea saw her jaw drop open, which now matched the mouths of most of the congregation.

All Derek's attendants were angling toward the couple, bending forward and out of their appointed lineup, in an attempt to see what had caught the attention of all the guests. Chelsea's attendants, however, stayed in place, each with an enormous and knowing grin on her face.

The fingers seemed to be pointing to the base of the bride and groom. Derek and Chelsea almost looked down in unison. They shared later that they thought perhaps a field mouse, a rabbit, a dog, or who-knew-what was making its way between them and into the ceremony. Or... maybe even a snake was slithering on the stage.

Chelsea saw nothing at their feet, but Derek's mouth formed into a large "O." His face immediately changed from shock to absolute delight, as he simultaneously shook his head and began a slight chuckle. Not disruptive. Just enough to release the entire congregation (and pastor) to do the same.

Still uncertain what was happening, Chelsea looked for answers in Derek's eyes. Her still confused gaze followed his finger as it pointed to the gorgeous artwork on the right lower side of Chelsea's gown, which mimicked the flower arrangements on the stage. The greens, blues, pinks, and golds of the flora and fauna were unmistakable, but only gave a hint that the same flowers that were on her dress would explode into vivid color on either side of the bride and groom in the actual floral arrangements.

Oh, she had forgotten all about Delane's labor of love on her gown!

A smile escaped her lips. A very fulfilling smile! A contented smile!

A "Ha, ha, it's _my_ dress" smile!

Within one minute's time, Pastor Dayton reclaimed his presiding officiant's authority, giving nothing more than a look toward the congregation.

Once silence was restored, the ceremony vows spoken, the pronouncement of husband and wife completed, the bride and groom sealed their vows with a kiss, Chelsea raised her skirt, revealing her white calf-height Victorian lace boots, to which the entire sanctuary lifted their voices in praise.

Praises on the boots, her dress, or the wedding pronouncement, she didn't know.

But, more importantly, she didn't care, because it was accomplished...

Derek belonged to Chelsea, and Chelsea belonged to Derek! For always!

# Chapter 12

KiirstiAan's email to me:

Mommy Dearest (Just kidding!),

I think I remember something about you going to that wedding. Aren't his parents members at church? One of the problems of going to a mega church is that you recognize names, but can't put faces to them, or vice versa. Sometimes I feel lost in the crowds. (I think maybe I went to school with one or two of Derek's brothers.)

Anywho.. (Remember when you used to use this word to me when I was growing up and I hated it?!)

I loved this story! I was engaged from the first word to the last. Oh, boy, I can hardly wait to read more! I read it to Evan. (Oh wait... you already knew that.) His reaction was the same. He thought it was so cool. His comment was something about reality being stranger than fiction. I asked him if he wanted to hear more of them. He said yeah, could we make every Monday evening "Storybook Night". Isn't he adorable?! I love this man!

Now, for a critique...

_First off, USE SPELL CHECK. You spelled the word_ _boutonniere_ _five different ways. And, frankly, it was frustrating, because of course I had to correct it each time. Two or three times I had to re-think where I was in the story. UGH!_

After I finished reading this one to Evan, he had the same three questions I did. Well, actually four. (At first we thought you should have covered these in the story itself, but after we talked, we decided that it wouldn't have enhanced the story, it might actually have been anti-climactic.)

1. _What was the feedback on Chelsea's gown from the guests at the reception?_

2. _Did Delane ever paint anymore dresses?_

3. _Did Chelsea's bruises heal up ok?_

4. _What happened to Chelsea's dad?_

BTW... I LOOOOVED THIS STORY! (Or did I say that already? Ha ha.)

My email reply to KiirstiAan:

Thanks, Sweet Stuff! I'm so glad you enjoyed it.

Yes, you DID go to school with Derek's brother, Travis. I think you even had a crush on him for a while in high school.

_Anywho (to use_ your _phrase, which is no longer fun to use since it no longer bothers you)..._

I try to spell carefully, but sometimes I don't take the time to check. If I'm in the midst of a train of thought, I don't want to "squelch the spirit." Besides, correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't that part of the job of the proofreader?!

Now, to your questions...

Number three first. Yes, Chelsea's bruises healed up over the next few weeks, and there were no lasting negative effects.

_Number four comes second. Chelsea's dad went to be with the Lord two months or so after the wedding. He deteriorated so quickly after that day, and although she says she misses him something awful (even after these eight years), she will see him again before she knows it and will be able to introduce him to his twin granddaughters and twin grandsons. Do you believe that?! Apparently_ both _sides have multiple births running through them. In fact, Chelsea's aunts on her father's side were triplets. Back in the day, they used to give rhyming names to multiples. Chelsea has an Aunt Mary, Aunt Jerry, and Aunt Carry. (Isn't that a hoot?) All still living, I understand._

Number one and two come last.

Your dad wasn't feeling well that evening, and I remember we had to leave early. But, even in the thirty minutes or so that we stayed at the reception, there had to be half a dozen people come up to Chelsea and ask where her exquisite and unique gown was from. At one point I heard Chelsea ask one of the guests if they had paper and pen. When they responded yes, she asked the woman if she would give the paper and pen to Delane (whom she pointed out to her), and give her instructions to write down her name and phone number to all those who wanted to know if she could do something similar for them. I watched Delane give her name and number to at least four or five people before we left.

Since Delane was only one month short of completing her undergrad studies at the time of the wedding, she began a small home-based (or perhaps I should say apartment-based) business immediately after graduation, fulfilling the gown fantasies of local brides-to-be. She started grad studies simultaneously, but within six months, she had so much business, she decided to quit school and pursue gown-painting fulltime. Her parents fronted her a tiny store. The only condition was that she start it back home, close to Mom and Dad. Actually, that was ok with Delane. She and her folks always have been and still are really tight. So, she's gone now to Atlanta, where her parents did indeed set her up in a storefront.

Her business grew at a frantic pace, and now she has three stores, where she employs fourteen artists. The original in Atlanta, another in Manhattan, and a third somewhere in Texas (Dallas or Austin?) Apparently she has perfected fabric painting and teaches the technique herself to her employees. They have a six month internship with her, at the end of which they are either hired or fired.

Amazing, right?!

I'm thrilled for her. She always has had such a heart for the Lord, and even on her website, she shares her testimony.

Oh, that's right. I just said she has a website. I should probably give the web address to you. It's BridalExtrava-Gown.com. You should go there and check it out. I only went there once almost immediately after she opened the site. Even then there was one sample of her work. It was an Eiffel Tower that started on the middle back of the bride's gown and wrapped around the front and up to just below the bust.

Now, are you ready for this? You can read it yourself when to go to her site, but I can't stand it, I have to tell you first.

The whole Eiffel Tower thing was because the bride's first name was Paris, the groom's first name was Etienne (French in origin). And their married last name? Hightower.

_Evan's right. Sometimes reality_ is _stranger than fiction._

KiirstiAan's email reply to me:

1. _So sorry about Chelsea's dad._

2. _Can't believe about all the multiple births._

3. _Seriously? Paris and Etienne Hightower?_

4. _And this is the most important one..._

I'm going to visit Delane's website. Since I already have my gown, maybe I should have her do something outrageously artistic to it. (I promise not to put pictures of the cats or Evan's car on it.)

My email reply to KiirstiAan:

What's with you and this numbering everything deal? I think you've been doing that since you were three or four years old.

Here's where I'm trying not to sound like the controlling mother...

Please be careful to not do anything totally unorthodox to your gorgeous gown.

Oops! Who wrote that comment?

Wow, what I would say is, What a totally exciting prospect for you! (That's what you call "a save.")

Ok, time to start the next story.

KiirstiAan's email reply to me:

To the numbering question: I don't know.

To the gown-painting: No comment.

To the writing of the next story: ^5

My email reply to KiirstiAan:

_There can only be one title for this new story,_ The Pirate Bride _._

KiirstiAan's email reply to me:

Pirate Bride?! Oh, this is gonna be good! I can just feel it!

GFI (Go for it!)

# Chapter 13

A piercing scream emitted from Sarah's lips, followed by a bone-chilling, agonizing screech. One on the heels of the other. If not in the room with her, the sounds could easily have been misconstrued as a homicide in progress. If actually present with her at the time, it at least would have caused shuddering, as it replayed in one's mind the shower scene from the movie, _Psycho_.

Dean arrived first in the kitchen. He had been in the bathroom relieving himself when his "task" was interrupted by the blood-curdling shrieks. Kate was a close second. She had been in the family room, organizing and placing a combination of Sarah's and Dean's book collections in an empty bookshelf, while Sarah and Dean were in the kitchen, papering the cabinet shelves.

If any undertaking was a fulfillment of Kate's gifts, it was home design. Kate knew it and so did everyone else. She was almost as excited about this new-home design commission for Sarah and Dean, as she was co-planning their wedding.

Upon arrival, both of them registered horrified looks on their face when they saw Sarah lying on her left side on the kitchen floor, one hand clutching her left eye and cheek and the other hand holding her "lower right cheek", both covered in a flowing and growing deep crimson stain.

Funny the things that go through one's mind in crisis.

Dean immediately envisioned himself in white armor, on a white horse, charging in to rescue the fair maiden from her distress (whatever that anguish was). Not that he saw himself as such, but Sarah had told him he was just _that_ so many times during their courtship, that it automatically surfaced in his brain upon hearing her cries.

Sarah's mother, Kate, on the other hand, was torn equally between realizing that taking Sarah to the emergency room at the hospital was going to take them off-task, preventing the house from being organized and decorated by the wedding a week from Saturday, and fright over the damage that must be underneath the hand-covered facial area that was spewing so much blood. She did see the blood coming from Sarah's right _glutimous maximus_ , And yes, she actually saw that term in her mind, and wondered two things. Was that spelled right (she didn't think so), and why was it that even in the privacy of her own thoughts, she couldn't think the word _butt_? Oops! She just did. Somehow, however, nothing seemed as serious as any damage caused to that beautiful, beautiful face of her daughter's.

*****

"Sarah, Baby, what happened?" But, she was moaning too much to even give Dean an answer.

There wouldn't have been enough time for a considered response anyway. By the time Kate arrived, Dean had already slammed the kitchen cabinet door closed, noticed the blood saturating the corner of it, grabbed a white bath towel from the bathroom, applied it to Sarah's eye, picked up Sarah, saw the screwdriver drop to the floor, and was standing as though confused. Bedroom or car? Home medical fix or professional? No contest! He reclaimed his presence of mind, barked out the order for Kate to go out and start her car, and was right behind her, carrying his beloved.

Kate dove in the driver's seat, while Dean opened the door and backed into the rear seat, never relinquishing his hold on Sarah.

"Sweetheart, how did this happen?"

"I was using the screwdriver to tighten the hinges on the lower cabinet..." she moaned, "and stood up really fast to grab the shelf paper you were using instead of walking over to the box with the new ones in it. I didn't know the upper cabinet door where you were working was open. I guess I stood up too fast and ran my eye right into the corner."

"Honey, I would gladly have given you my roll of paper, if I'd known you needed it."

"I know, but then you would have had to go get and open a new roll, and I didn't want you to have to do it either."

Needing to shift her position on Dean's lap, she moved just slightly, but it was enough to send a shooting pain where the screwdriver had penetrated. She yelped and Dean held her tighter.

"But how did you get the other wound?" her mother asked, more demanding than asking from concern.

"I was holding onto the screwdriver when I stood and just never released as I was using that hand to break my fall. Must have had it tipped at an odd angle."

Kate barked out, "Sarah!"

"I know... it was stupid. I guess my reflexes just weren't that good."

"It'll be ok, Baby. We're almost to the emergency room," interjected Dean.

The rest of the drive, they all gave in to their own thoughts. Dean was worrying about Sarah and asked the Lord to take care of her. Sarah was worried that Dean would feel responsible for the injuries, asking the Lord to heal her quickly so that Dean wouldn't feel any guilt. Kate was still volleying between the spelling of the lower anatomy part that Sarah had injured, the probability that this would ruin her interior decorating completion date, and anger that Sarah was so clumsy.

Kate gasped, but no further sound came forth, just the disturbing thought _, Oh no, if her face is damaged, we'll have to postpone the wedding. There's no excuse for this kind of carelessness._

Exactly seven minutes later they arrived at Memorial Hospital Emergency entrance.

*****

"I'm sorry I couldn't get here any sooner. I was right in the middle of a procedure. Some kid ran his motorcycle into a picket fence, and when he..." This from Jonathan, who was both an ER doctor and Sarah's stepdad. The only reason the explanation wasn't completed was because Kate gave him a look that he had long ago learned to interpret, _Please shut up!_

"What happened?" Jonathan asked.

"As I already told you on your cell, she hit her eye on the corner of a kitchen cabinet _and_ fell on a screwdriver. JB, I'm frantic. I think it's going to maybe require Richard's skills. We're going to have to postpone the wedding, I just know it."

"Where is she?" Jonathan petitioned.

Short of patience, Kate insisted, "She's in with the doctor right now. I don't know what room. Could you go in and check on her and let me know what's going on? I'm going to have to get going on the wedding postponement cards." With this, she grabbed her iPhone from her purse, and hit speed dial to the stationer to rush order the engraved cancellation cards. No reason not to get started on the inevitable. Once connected with the call recipient, she walked away from Dean, and began explaining to the stationer the situation and exactly what she needed in both card style and order completion time.

Jonathan turned to find the room in which Sarah was being treated. Before he took more than five or six steps, Dean caught up.

"JB, I couldn't see under her hand, but from the amount of blood, she's really hurt. Please make sure they take good care of her."

"I will, Son."

Before Jonathan even passed through the doors to the exam rooms, Dean had already seated himself in a deserted corner chair and begun to pray.

"Lord, please put Your Hand on Sarah. Only You can provide healing and peace. I trust You to take care of her like no one else can. In Jesus' name, Amen."

*****

Seven stitches below her left eye, a rolled eye patch, bandaging covering half her face, four stitches in her right glut, a tetanus injection, a heavy duty pain pill, and four hours later the arguing had already begun at home.

Raising her head from her pillow, Sarah re-iterated, "No, we're _not_ postponing the wedding!"

Kate was up for any verbal fight necessary, "Yes, we _are_ postponing it. Have you taken a good long look at your face in the mirror?! Your face is blown up like a balloon, and your father told me when he came out of the ER that you looked really bad. He said you have stitches that probably won't even be out by the wedding day, and the swelling and bruising are going to be monumental! We're postponing the wedding."

"Mom, I am too sleepy right now to argue," responded Sarah, even as the medication was causing her serious drowsiness. "We'll talk in the morning when we're both less stressed."

"Sarah..."

"Goodnight, Mom."

"It's only 5:45 p.m., Sarah."

"Yeah, and I need my beauty sleep."

"Sarah..."

No answer.

"Yes, we _are_ postponing the wedding," she whispered so quietly that _no one_ could have heard her, even if standing directly next to her. She exited Sarah's bedroom and closed the door, while only mouthing the words of her final authoritative declaration, " _Yes, we_ are _postponing the wedding!"_

*****

# Chapter 14

Next day, after many curt, ugly words and tears on both sides, Sarah won her argument for going ahead with the wedding, now seven days away. Kate was not a happy camper about the decision, but Sarah knew her mother had accepted it when the FedEx package had been delivered from the stationer. Sarah watched her mom from the office window as she tearfully threw it directly in the trash can at the side of the house without opening it. Sarah didn't even want to know how much money her father had spent on this now obsolete purchase. She knew her mom well enough to know that she would never bring it up to her dad, and her father would simply accept the credit card charge as yet another wedding expenditure.

Sarah's moment of feeling sad for her mom was quickly overshadowed by joy that she had stood her ground and would still become Dean's blushing bride next weekend.

Suddenly wanting to hug her mom and tell her that she was so grateful to her for letting Sarah move ahead with the wedding, she followed Kate outside to the trash can location, hobbling pitifully. Her hip was hurting her terribly, and she favored it with each step. _I must look like I have a peg leg,_ she disgustedly thought. And, it was already causing pain throughout her lower back. _Man, remind me never to sit on a screwdriver again._

Her mother was already striding away from the cans, however, and headed purposefully out the gate and down the block.

From a long distance behind Kate, Sarah curiously followed her to the neighbor's house four doors away. Within a couple of minutes of Kate's entrance to the home, Sarah knocked on the door. She knew these neighbors by sight, but not much more. She wasn't sure what she was going to say when the door opened, just that she needed to speak with her mother.

On the very first knock, a young girl, maybe ten years old, opened and stood shyly with a large bedazzled flower to the left side above her eye, a large wide ribbon tied in back keeping it attached to her totally bald head. No one needed to explain to Sarah that this little one had been under a chemotherapy regimen. Her face and body spoke clearly of imminent death, but her alert eyes, first registering horror at Sarah's countenance, disclosed deep compassion for Sarah.

"My mother is here....." Sarah began. But the little girl was more interested in Sarah's beat-up face.

"You're sick, too," she said, softly.

"Kind of." She was just about to ask if she could come in, but the little girl was ahead of that question, already motioning her to come in, which she did.

"What happened?"

"I stood up too quickly and hit my eye on a cabinet corner, then fell down on the screwdriver I was using."

That response first drew a slight smile from the little girl, but was almost immediately replaced with concern. "That almost sounds like the way a story would begin on one of the old Carol Burnett shows. But, you must be in a lot of pain. I'm so sorry. I don't feel very good either."

"Really? What happened to _you_?" Sarah knew very good and well that it was health-related, not an accident, but wanted the girl to be able to tell her own story.

"I have cancer and I have to have creamatherapy. That's why I don't have any hair." Sarah knew she meant chemotherapy, but didn't correct her pronunciation.

"I'm so sorry. But, to tell you the truth, I was looking at that adorable headpiece you're wearing. It's all fancy and shimmery. I wish I could hide my injury with something beautiful like that."

"You like it??? I made it myself."

"No, you didn't. It's too beautiful to be homemade."

"Really, I did. Come over here in the dining room and I'll show you my hobby station and some of the things I've made. Oh, I almost forgot... My name is Caitlin."

"Mine is Sarah." She knew she should be asking to speak with her mom, but Caitlin was so excited to show her the work station, that Sarah put that task aside momentarily.

Following Caitlin, she hobbled to a dining room table and perused all the tools being used for the child's crafting projects. All of them involved a Bedazzler. There were rhinestones, imitation emeralds, amethysts, aquamarines, pearl drops, several shapes of clear glass chain, and a number of imitation stones she didn't recognize. There were glue sticks, fabric adhesives, swatches of multi-colored satins, taffetas, and lengths of ribbon in many widths and colors. Frankly, she was wowed by the extensive hobby tools. And on a small separate table were a multitude of projects already completed, among them more headpieces, small purses, and what looked to be uniquely styled necklaces. And, _everything_ was organized as though by an adult, a very, very OCD adult.

Sarah wanted to reach out and touch some of the "goodies" on the table, but even as her hand approached the table, peripherally she could see Caitlin wince. She pulled her hand back and said, "I just want to touch everything, but I'm afraid I'll mess things up."

"Tell you what... I can teach you how to do it. Just sit next to me here, and I'll take you step-by-step."

"Am I supposed to decide what I make, or will you decide what a beginner like me can handle this first time?"

"Why don't we start with a sparkly ribbon. I'll teach you how to bedazzle it. You can learn while doing it, then take it home with you."

"Caitlin, you're going to let me have it? You're the best! And frankly, that's a good choice of item. My cheek and eye still really hurt, and when I brush my hair back on that side, it just about kills me, the pain is so bad. If I have a ribbon, I can just pull my hair back and keep it out of my face altogether."

"Sarah, could I see what it looks like? I can tell by the bruises and your puffy cheek that it's going to be bad, but don't worry, I'm not screamish." Sarah knew _squeamish_ was what she meant, but this was not the time to correct her. Frankly, she thought this innocence was quite becoming to a young girl her age.

"Well, if you think you can look at it without getting sick, ok."

Caitlin screwed up her face as Sarah began removing the bandage edge. Sarah could tell it was an empathetic facial reaction.

"Oh, Sarah!" Her eyes clouded over and a tear slid down Caitlin's cheek, halting at her chin.

"It looks pretty bad, huh?"

"I can see all the stitches. Six...", she counted again out loud as she leaned forward for a better look. "No, seven of them. And, the white part of your eye is completely red, like blood. Your cheek is all puffy and purple. What makes bruised skin that color?"

"It's the blood that's draining on the inside of the skin."

"Oh."

"I haven't looked at it yet. I'm kind of afraid to."

"I can hold your hand while you look. There's a mirror on that wall," she instructed, as she pointed to the large decorative mirror over the sideboard. You don't even need to get up. You can sit right here. We'll sit here together."

She really didn't think she wanted to look at this stage, but with Caitlin's support, somehow she thought it would be okay.

Only about half the bandage was peeled up and Sarah looked at her reflection in the mirror. She could see that her face was a mess, and there was swelling to a level that she could not believe was possible. She was beyond looking like a chipmunk. She more resembled a blown up balloon on that side. A _fully_ blown up balloon... A ready-to-burst, fully-blown-up balloon. _How did a cheek get that swollen without the cheek actually cracking and exploding?_

Nevertheless, she lifted the bandage further, and saw the entire injury in all its radiant splendor. She remembered being told in the ER that it would get a whole lot worse before it ever got better. But, this was beyond any horror in her wildest imagination.

"Oh, no." She quickly pulled the lower edge of the bandage down and placed pressure on the tape points. She just felt sick inside, which could be seen as her entire body slumped as though being deflated. Caitlin could sense her anguish and squeezed her hand, then began patting the top of their entwined fingers.

"Sarah, it's going to be ok. You just wait and see. We can wait together. You can wait for your face to heal and I'll wait for my hair to grow back. I'll pray for both of us every night. We just need to be patient."

"The problem is that I'm getting married in a week. That isn't much time to heal."

"Are you wearing a long white gown and a veil?"

"A long gown, yes. But, I'm not wearing a veil. I'm wearing a pearl and rhinestone tiara that belonged to my grandmother." Caitlin looked perplexed. Sarah asked if Caitlin would pick up about five of each of the items she pointed out. Caitlin nodded.

"Pick up some of these, and these smaller ones, and the really big ones. Then, how about these teardrop pearls, and just a big handful of the rhinestones. Now, put them here on the table."

Sarah began to use combinations and form them into the general configuration of a tiara.

"Are those the exact stones... pearls and rhinestones?"

"Well, what I've made here looks pretty sad, but yes, pearls and rhinestones, and this is the general shape."

"But no veil, huh?"

"I wasn't planning to, but now all I want to do is hide that side of my face. A veil wouldn't hide it anyway, unless I made it about ten layers thick."

"Couldn't you get married another day?"

"No, Caitlin, we're going ahead with the wedding on the day we planned it for."

"Sarah, I still think you're beautiful. And your husband will too. What's his name?"

"Dean."

"Dean will think you are just beautiful. Trust me. I know these things."

It was a shame Sarah's mother didn't feel the same. Kate's feelings spoke very loudly through the looks she gave Sarah at almost any given moment they were together. They seemed to crawl back and forth along a continuum that held sympathy on one end and disgust and rage on the other. In one three minute conversation they had had about Sarah's stunning bridal gown, Kate's facial expressions changed from "My poor little daughter..." to "You look just terrible, I'm so embarrassed for you" to "I could just smack you for being so clumsy in the first place and then going ahead with the original wedding date."

At some point during her musing over her mother's attitude, Sarah realized that she had been there with Caitlin for quite a while. She looked over at the wall clock to see that thirty minutes had passed since she had arrived. Looking through the back window, she could see that her mom and Mrs. Trenton were still deep in conversation.

And, with her last comment, "I guess I'll talk with my mother later," she walked out the door, waving goodbye to Caitlin.

"Caitlin, I want you to be a guest at my wedding next Saturday," she said, turning around for a moment before continuing her walk home. "I know your parents are coming, but I'm going to put your own personal invitation in your mailbox, between now and tomorrow morning. Will you come?"

"If my mom says ok, I'd love to come. Thank you, Sarah. Bye."

"Bye."

Exiting Caitlin's house and beginning her painful and lopsided trek back to her own abode, she was overwhelmed with what she'd seen in the mirror. She looked like the Bride of Frankenstein. Between the damage to her face and her sutured hip that caused her to walk with a limp, she felt like a monster. The tears began, and once they did, she thought they'd never stop. Tears of horror, tears of disbelief, tears of mourning, tears of loss, and tears of hopelessness and despair mingled together in a torrential downpour that splashed off her chin. It was a quick step to overwhelming grief that caused her shoulders to shake and hiccups to wrack her being.

This was a wedding disaster of epic proportion... or was it?

*****

# Chapter 15

KiirstiAan's email to me:

I stopped right in the middle of the story. I couldn't find the correct spelling of gluteous maxamus. I tried this spelling, but that annoying squiggly red line was still underneath it.

Oooooh, this is just so frustrating! I had to get out of the story, go online and find the term. I decided my best bet was to look up an online medical dictionary. Found it and corrected it. I'm good, that's right, I'm good!

But, I'm nervous to find out what Sarah could possibly have done when she knew how distorted and broken her face was and only one week before her wedding.

Remember when you were ten and in your brother's wedding? You said Aunt Linda was only seven years old and was also going to be a junior bridesmaid. But, three weeks before the wedding she fell on her face on the sidewalk while roller-skating. When I saw the picture Grandma took, it looked bad enough to me to require plastic surgery.

Didn't you say she didn't even need any stitches? I don't remember, though, what you said happened. Was she still able to be in the wedding?

Anyway, back to Sarah's story.

My email reply to KiirstiAan:

No, Baby Girl, don't change it. That was the spelling Sarah's mom said she saw in her mind. That's why she questioned it in the first place.

And, about your Aunt Linda... Yes, she was still in the wedding. Amazingly enough, by the big day, it was pretty much healed. Her face was kind of pinkish, but since she's a redhead anyway, it wasn't distracting. And obviously no lasting damage, since as you know she is such a stunning woman.

KiirstiAan's email reply to me:

Yeah, Aunt Linda is beautiful, isn't she.

Already looked it up and changed the spelling. I'll go back, though, and spell it incorrectly for story-telling purposes.

Ok, back to my proofing assignment.

My email reply to KiirstiAan:

I've already thought it over. You're working so diligently that I'm going to pay you twice as much as I originally planned for your proofreading services.

BTW (see, I'm learning texting language)... Did you ever go online and check out BridalExtrava-Gown.com?

KiirstiAan's email reply to me:

Yes, I did check it out, then called her. You're gonna be surprised by what I've come up with. (Shhh, it's a secret!) You don't get to know anything else right now!

A raise? Well, I'd think so! BTW... how much is zero dollars and cents times two?

All nonsense aside... back to reading.

My email reply to KiirstiAan:

Before you go back to reading, I thought I should ask you something?

I read in the newspaper that the bridal mart downtown is having a massive sale on all bridal footwear. But, it's only this Friday and Saturday. (Adrianna Bridal? Adelle Bridal?) Why can't I remember the name of that place? You know the one I'm talking about. It has the family law practice on one side and the bible/book store on the other. Wow! Is that weird, or what? It's kind of like they're saying, "Go ahead... get married. Then, when your marriage falls apart, you have a choice... You can just come back here and get a divorce, or you can buy a Bible and try running your marriage God's way, like you should have done in the first place!"

Uh, I'm digressing, huh?

Anyway... we could go out to lunch and go take a look at what they have. Do you even know what kind of shoe you want? With your gown, you could swing a couple of different ways. I'm really crazy about Victorian boots, but I think you've already said you're not that fond of them.

Let me know if you'd like to go. You'd get a free lunch and free shoes, if you find what you want. It's a win-win!

KiirstiAan's email reply to me:

Sounds like so much fun!

I can't go Friday. Remember me, I work! Either Friday evening or Saturday anytime.

My email reply to KiirstiAan:

Let's go Saturday, if it's ok with you and Evan. I never asked if you two had anything else planned.

If I don't hear back from you, I'll give you a call Friday evening and we'll discuss time.

*****

# Chapter 16

KiirstiAan's email to me:

Hey, what happened to you earlier this morning? I thought I'd have some more of Sarah's story. (And don't tell me you weren't up in the wee hours when you do the majority of your writing. You're always up by three or four a.m.) I'm so excited each day to get a new installment. I pull up my email each morning at work during my morning break, pour a cup of coffee and with great anticipation, pull up the next episode.

Since I need to lose about six or seven pounds before the wedding, I play this game with myself. I allow myself a cup of coffee or hot tea and the choice between either a snack pack or the next segment of whatever story you're telling. In all the time I've been doing that, your story only lost one day. I hadn't eaten any breakfast because of running late. And, the snack choice for that day was an Oreo Cookies six-pack. Come on... we're talkin' Oreo cookies here! Seriously, which would you choose???

Hello, hello. Is anyone there? Does anyone care that I haven't had my wedding-disaster fix today? Hello? Is anyone out there in cyberspace?

My email reply to KiirstiAan:

First of all, let me say that you're truly annoying!

Now, having said that, I'll also say that I applaud your food-consumption discipline, and if it takes a mind game to make it work, you go, girl!

You're not going to believe this anyway.

Yes, you're right, I was up at 4:15 a.m. or so. I was feeling a little chilly, so I decided to go downstairs and make myself a cup of Mocha Latte. (And before you ask, yes, I still drink one every day.)

When I sat down to the computer, the coaster already had a glass of water on it, so I put the cup of Mocha Latte on top of the new jar of body lotion Aunt Tina sent me for my birthday. It had a broad round top that I assumed would hold it fine.

Wrong! Somehow I knocked it over and the entire contents, minus one swig, went flying right onto the computer table, keyboard, mouse, carpeting, my favorite sweater,... well, it might be easier to say what wasn't doused in that hot sticky mess... the stapler.

After jumping up and running to the bathroom for towels, I returned to the computer, where I've been cleaning up, only semi-successfully. By the time your dad got up this morning (around 7:30 a.m.), I was still popping keys off the keyboard, wiping them down, scraping drying mocha ooze from underneath, and replacing keys. Your dad suggested WD40, which I've now added to the cleanup mix. (Incidentally, it works!)

So, during the several hours I could have been writing, I was cleaning, cleaning, and cleaning some more.

The good news is I've only got one key that still sticks, Backspace. I am now having to be incredibly sure that I make no mistakes under any circumstances, since using that key means I have to remove it, use my letter opener to punch the inner workings to actually get it to backspace anything. Plus, when it sticks, it starts removing all prior wording, of course, until I can pop it up again. So, I have to re-type one or two sentences each time, assuming, of course, I can remember what I'd written in the first place. Ugh!

Is it even necessary for me to tell you what that does to my typing speed? It has made the process about twice as long.

And, just for the sake of comment... Why in the world am I emailing this to you when I could have called you and hashed it over on the phone? Look how long this email is! I could submit this as my master's thesis. I think I've lost my mind.

I need to get away from this computer a while today. Hey, should I meet you at work with some lunch? Greek salad, hummus and pita bread slices? And, I picked up a couple of bridal magazines. Maybe we could look at some bridesmaids' dresses and a mother-of-the-bride dress.

What d'ya think?

KiirstiAan's email reply to me:

Noon

Need diet root beer too

One better be Modern Bride (the newest one)

I think I know what colors I want in the wedding

My poor Momma!

CUL8R

My email reply to KiirstiAan:

Ok... ADBB

KiirstiAan's email reply to me:

ADBB???

My email reply to KiirstiAan:

ALL DONE. BYE BYE.

KiirstiAan's email reply to me:

You just made that up!

My email reply to KiirstiAan:

No, actually I found it online in a texting language site.

And, your break has got to be over. Get back to work!

# Chapter 17

There were no more tears left to cry. She knew it to be true, because they had all been shed in this last week. After multiple days of trying on cloches with asymmetrical net face veils and donning four-layer tulle veils (the longest veil hanging down the back, while the other three come forward to cover the face), Sarah gave up, well, that is right after one last attempt to attach a cluster of six flowers around the right side of her tiara... unsuccessfully.

Here it was her wedding day and she still looked like something out of a nightmare. The mirror spoke its unkindness to her, and in Technicolor, no less. Her eyes were still a rich blue, which clashed terribly with the white of the left eye. Mainly because it was no longer white, it was a sickly yellow-pink combination, only to be marred further with red vein roadmaps that ran unrelentingly through it. Add to that the two black sutures of the original seven that were still in the fleshy skin beneath that eyeball.

The piece de resistance, however, was her cheek. Perched directly on the eye socket bone were the proofs of her injury, five pink suture scars. No, that was not the major flaw. It's from that point down that the real affront began. It was an abstract artist's delight, a work in ombre. From a medium purple, the bruise faded down her cheek to a sickly puce, then ultimately a jaundiced yellow.

As she gazed at a face that could not belong to her, Sarah mournfully raised her small voice to the One who designed that face.

"Lord, I can't believe that it is my wedding day, the day I have looked forward to my whole life, and this is what Dean will see walking, in a still painful and awkward gait, toward him up the aisle. He has reassured me so many times I can't count them that he thinks I'm beautiful and he is marrying me for so many reasons that have nothing to do with my face, with or without injury.

"You knew from before time that my wedding day would include this challenge. And, since that's so, I guess I have a choice to make.

"I can become bitter, blaming You for allowing this to happen. Or, I can choose to praise You, and acknowledge that Your Plan for me is so much better than anything I can even anticipate."

Sarah stopped mid-prayer. _It really is my choice, isn't it? It is totally in my own heart how I choose to see this and how I will respond to it._

Lifting her eyes to heaven, she completed her prayer.

"Jesus, I've fretted over this long enough. Forgive me. I all but threatened my mother that if she didn't let me go ahead with the wedding _today_ I'd make sure she'd be sorry. Forgive me. I've pretty much hidden myself away from almost everyone this last week, because of embarrassment about my looks. Forgive me.

"I'm choosing to give you thanks and praise instead.

"So...

"Thank you for parents who are giving me the most beautiful wedding a girl could imagine. Thank you for a man who loves You first, and me second. Thank you for this beautiful church to get married in. Thank you for family and friends who are coming today to celebrate with us, just because they love us.

"But most of all, Lord, thank you for my salvation. The injuries You sustained that day were far beyond mine. And, Your Wounds were voluntary and for selfless reasons. They were for me.

"I'm choosing, Jesus, to rejoice today. I'm going to hold my head high as I walk down that aisle. Not from a rebellious pride that dares anyone to even act as though they are shocked at my damaged appearance, but as a tribute to You. And, I ask that all the guests here today will see Christ in me.

"Let something truly amazing come from all this, Lord. In Your Name, I pray. Amen."

A peace not of this world settled over Sarah. Her shoulders relaxed, her hip hurt considerably less, and she was even smiling.

*****

Sarah had been sitting alone in the church's bridal room. The Lord had intervened, wanting this time to be between just the two of them. Once her petition to the Lord was completed, her bridal attendants began entering the room.

The day had not begun like she thought her wedding day would. The weather was chilly, there was almost no sun all day, and it had even drizzled earlier in the day. But none of that mattered, because it was now evening, smelling clean and fresh, and the stars were simply dazzling as she looked to the sky through the window.

Closing the privacy blinds, Sarah began chit-chatting with her girls. Even with the silliness of wedding night honeymoon predictions and the requests for help from all the girls to help zip-, tie-, lace-, or button up, the time they spent together in that dressing room was precious, holding memories that Sarah would long remember.

The only things that marred this time were the sympathetic looks that inevitably came from everyone present. She knew she was making the right choice not to cover the injured side of her face, but it was actually easier when she had worn the bandages. At least then no one knew how bad the damage really was, and everyone could pretend that maybe things underneath were not so bad after all.

Every single communication interaction between Sarah and any of her bridesmaids held something extra. Either, they avoided looking at her in the eyes, choosing rather to look elsewhere while laughing and chatting, accompanied by an arm- or shoulder squeeze, or they would look at her in the eyes, visibly wincing when Sarah would smile or speak, assuming that she was experiencing pain that must come with injuries that severe.

Sarah had been putting off completing her grooming until her bridesmaids started harassing her for not already having completed her hair, makeup, and donning her gown.

But time was moving on, and she realized she needed to "get to movin.'" After all, her eye makeup, foundation, powder and blush, even though only being applied to one side of her face, were not going to apply themselves. Fortunately, she just needed to refine some of her curls with a quick use of the curling iron. So, move she did.

As Sarah was applying the finishing touches of makeup to the right side of her face, plus adding a glosser to her lips, Kate walked in the door, holding a small paper or something in her hand. Sarah had noticed a change coming about in her mother. Rather than the distance between them toward the beginning of this last week, each day had softened Kate, until today she had nothing but kindness toward her daughter.

"Hey, Sweetie. I just ran into that adorable husband-to-be of yours in the sanctuary. He and his groomsmen were doing one final walk-through, reminding each other of the correct walking speed, who would accompany which bridesmaid, and practicing standing in their correct locations up front.

"Dean came up to me and thanked me for all the years I'd invested in you. He said that you wouldn't be the woman you are today without my contribution.

"Was that a precious thing to say? I can see why you love him so much. He is an amazing man!"

"He is, isn't he?!"

Sarah pulled Kate by the hand into the restroom. After closing the door, she spoke.

"Mom, first I want to tell you how sorry I am for some of the things I said this week after the accident. They were unkind and I can't believe I spoke to you that way, when you have done so much for me. I knew even at the time I was breaking the Lord's Heart being so disrespectful, but didn't stop myself. Will you forgive me?"

"Already forgiven and forgotten."

"Thank you. And secondly, I want to thank you for this beautiful, beautiful wedding you and Daddy are giving Dean and me. I know you have worked so hard. And, even though I know you love to decorate anyway, I know that all you've done in the planning has been through a selfless gift of love.

"I am so grateful!"

"You are so welcome, Honey.

"You are such a joy to us. We are so proud of the woman you choose to be, and we are so completely convinced that Dean is _exactly_ who the Lord has given you.

"Now, before you and I completely have a melt down and get all puffy-eyed crying, we better get you back in there and get you into your wedding gown. I can hardly wait to see Dean's face when he sees you coming down the aisle."

Kate tipped her head sideways, as she looked thoughtfully at Sarah.

"Your hair looks just beautiful. I think the tiara will look fantastic among all those long curls of yours. Your Grandma would be so proud that you're using it."

"Thank you, Mom."

Sarah and Kate opened the restroom door to re-enter the bridesmaid's realm, but Kate pulled Sarah back in and said, "Oh, I almost forgot what I was going to give you.

"I wanted you to see the insert that is in each wedding program.

"I so hope you're pleased."

Handing her daughter a small piece of elegant stationery, Kate stood there quietly while Sarah perused its presentation and contents.

First, she noticed that the shadowy ichthus in the background with the superimposed and overlapping wedding rings was _identical_ to the pattern on the wedding invitations and the cover of the programs. Her mom had kept the theme running throughout. Then, her eyes swept down to the wording, which immediately caused unshed tears to pool in her eyes.

"Many daughters have done virtuously,

But thou excellest them all.

Favour is deceitful, and beauty is vain:

But a woman that feareth the Lord,

She shall be praised." ~ Proverbs 31:29, 30.

Last week Sarah was brutally attacked by a kitchen cabinet.

Although she persevered to win the battle,

She still bares the wounds of that skirmish.

Many of you know of this incident, but for those of you

Who do not, we want to express our whole-hearted

Approval in the couple's decision to move ahead at this time

In marrying one another, despite this challenge.

Our heartfelt blessings to Sarah and Dean.

Kate and JB Dayton

Although she had finished reading the insert, Sarah stared at it further, unblinking. If her eyes closed even just to blink, she felt like the floodgates would spring open and any tears that had not yet sprung forth, would surely fight and claw amongst themselves to be the first to be released.

"Sarah, this is good, right?"

"Mom, it's more than good. I was so afraid that you'd always be angry with me for insisting on going ahead with the wedding, even though I know how bad I look.

"The good thing is that my hip doesn't hurt this evening. I don't know that the limp is gone yet, but I am so thankful that the pain is gone.

"I wish my face were healed, but at least now I don't think any of the guests will faint dead away from the shock of my appearance. Giving them this warning was a super idea. Thank you for the little bit of comic relief in it, '... Sarah was brutally attacked by a kitchen cabinet...'. And I hope you really meant the verses above. I want the Lord's approval first, but it really feels good to hear it from you and Daddy."

"You beautiful child! We are beyond proud. You trust the Lord for all the happenings in your life. And, you've chosen well the mate for your life. I have done a lot of thinking and praying this week about my own behavior.

"You know, I saw you the day you visited Caitlin. That was the day I really began re-thinking my attitude about things in general, and in particular whether you should or should not continue with today's wedding.

"I was standing in the living room close to the front window and saw you approaching their house. Jennifer and I went out in the backyard. I asked her for her take on the whole situation. I knew Caitlin would keep you occupied until Jennifer and I were finished talking.

"Jennifer sided with you. She told me that you were an extraordinary young woman who loves Jesus and simply _needs_ to move on in your life with Dean."

"You knew that I was there the whole time? Well, thank you for letting me have that time with Caitlin. She is amazing!

"Mom, how bad is her cancer? Will this chemo take care of it? She looked so weak and pale."

"I would love to stand here on your wedding day and relieve your mind by telling you that she's going to be just fine. But, the truth is that while the Lord is the only One who knows the number of our days, unless He chooses to intervene, no... Caitlin is not going to be ok. Well, to put it the way Jennifer does, 'It may be that the Lord is going to grant her the _ultimate healing_ and take her home.'"

"Are Jennifer and Caitlin coming this evening?"

"I don't know, Honey. When I arrived, the only people in the sanctuary were Dean and his groomsmen. It was too early for any guests to arrive. I spoke with Dean a few moments and then came straight back here. But, I truly believe that Caitlin would be the first to tell you to truly cherish this day and rejoice that you have found 'the one whom your soul loveth'."

Sarah gave her one of those looks that said, _Wait..._ _Seriously?!_ _You're telling me that a kid would say, 'the one whom your soul loveth'?_

"Well... maybe she'd say it differently, but that would be the sentiment.

"Now, let's get you back in the room and get you dressed for this beautiful wedding."

Sarah nodded her assent and walked from the restroom back into the bridal room. Because Kate was already in her dress, she was able to give Sarah her complete attention.

While Kate buttoned up all of the five hundred buttons down the back of Sarah's gown... ok, maybe only fifty buttons... they were quiet. Talking seemed unnecessary. She was grateful for a silent moment. It was during this time that Sarah lifted up two requests before the Lord. One, a prayer for Caitlin's health and the other, praise for her mother's softness and change of heart.

As she prayed, Sarah realized that two really good things had come from this accident, meeting Caitlin and having her mother confirm that Sarah was right to go ahead with her wedding, despite her wounds.

*****

Sarah could hear the soft romantic strains of classical music coming from the organ in the sanctuary. Even though the doors were shut, the melodies floated into the foyer, where she and her father were the only two left to enter the ceremony.

Although the wedding coordinator was not with them, she had given instructions to the organist that Canon in D was not to be started until _after_ the two doors swung open.

Sarah was to have total control over the very moment she would enter. When Sarah had asked how the doors would open if no one was in the foyer with them, the woman had explained that several years prior to this, the church had installed an automatic door opener for this very reason, and pointed to the wall button that should be pushed when the bride and her father were ready to enter. She told Sarah that there was a five-second delay, then the doors would swing open. She made sure they knew to clear the door swing range by standing behind a certain stripe in the carpeting.

In the moments left before her entry on her father's arm, she visually scanned the foyer. Her mother had even included this area in the extensive decorating. There were white sparkle lights draped on every wall and wrapped down the guestbook stand. Large clusters of magnificent flowers were attached to four Greek columns Kate had brought in, each flanking a set of double entry doors.

Just a minute or two and she would hit that button and begin her entrance.

Somehow during this last moment before the pomp and circumstance of her entry, her hand involuntarily loosened grip on her bouquet and it plunged to the floor. _It must be nerves!_ Bending and reaching down to retrieve it, an intense pain shot through her left eye and down the left cheek. Her hand immediately flew to her eye, rather than to the lavish and fragrant bouquet on the floor.

The flash of pain disappeared as quickly as it appeared, but that was all that it took to remind Sarah of her disfigured face.

"Oh, that hurt so much."

"Sweetheart, let me take a look. This may be one of the biggest advantages to having a father who's a doctor."

"No, Daddy, the pain is gone. Could you just pick up my bouquet? Really, there's no pain at all left."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," she responded, turning to face him and straighten his bow tie.

"By the way, you sure look handsome tonight. I knew you would, but..."

Sarah felt a tap on her left arm, to which she turned. There stood little Caitlin with a little white tissue wrapped package, which she extended to Sarah.

"I was so afraid I'd miss you before you went in. This is for you. You don't have to use it, but I wanted to give it to you as a special gift for your wedding. Mom and I are going to go in and sit down now. I can hardly wait to see you come in."

And with that brief encounter with Sarah, Caitlin and her mother entered a side door to be seated for the wedding ceremony.

Thinking that maybe Caitlin had made her another sparkly ribbon to wear during her honeymoon, or a bedazzled pouch purse to carry during the time she and Dean were away in Tahiti, she came very close to asking her dad to put it in a pocket until during the reception, when she would open it in front of Caitlin and the others in attendance.

However, something within her needled her to open it now, so open it she did. When some ribbon began sliding out the opening, she confirmed within herself that she was right, it was a ribbon for her hair. But, it kept sliding out, longer and longer and longer. It actually puddled on the floor now, and frankly Sarah was puzzled beyond words what Caitlin could possibly have been thinking by making it so long.

Continuing to unwrap it, another ribbon slithered through Sarah's fingers and joined in a second puddle on the floor. Sarah's father bent to pick them up and held them in his hands, as curious as Sarah as to what in the world this was. The two ribbons, each at least six feet long, gave no clue as to what the remainder of the package's contents would be. But, since the two extensions of ribbon didn't fall completely out, they must be attached to something.

When the last flap of white tissue was released, Sarah and her father gasped.

"Sarah, that is the most amazing thing I've ever seen!"

"Daddy, do you know what this _is_?"

"I've never seen one like _this_ before, but yes, I do."

There in Sarah's own hands lay the most extraordinary eye patch ever seen! It was over-sized. It would certainly cover Sarah's left eye, but almost half her cheek as well. It was made from white satin, lined with more satin on the back.

"That's the shape of an amoeba. I really like the way it curls up and around. I guess that side would be on the outside of your eye. What are those gems?"

"I told Caitlin that I would be wearing this tiara, covered in pearls and rhinestones. Daddy, she made this to match."

It was not until this moment that Sarah actually lifted it up to examine it thoroughly. And, when she did, she and her father discovered even more "deliciousness" to it.

Not only were there rhinestones and pearls in a stunning pattern covering the patch, but from the bottom were five extensions that hung down. Each was a chain of round pearls. The two outside chains hung about one-half inch long, with a small teardrop pearl dangling from them. The next two closest in had pearl chains about three-quarters of an inch with a slightly larger teardrop pearl at the end. But, the middle pearl chain, oh, the middle one... The middle pearl chain hung about two inches long, its length rotated between one pearl, one rhinestone, repeated back and forth until at its end, there hung a large solitary teardrop pearl, perhaps as much as one inch in length. It was clear that these extensions would have a flowing movement, hanging free from her cheek as they would.

"Sarah, my suggestion to you is to hurry up and put it on. Because I am _not_ hitting that button until that patch is resting on your eye."

Sarah did not have to be persuaded. She planned to put it on whether or not her father agreed with her choice. _Oh, Lord, please let Mom love this as much as Daddy and I do!_

Once the eye patch was in position and Dr. Dayton had tied the ends in the back of Sarah's head into a bow, with streamers that extended all the way to the back hem of her gown, father and daughter looked directly at each other.

"Daddy, what do think?"

"Sweetie, I thought you looked stunning before, but now you look absolutely regal!

"Are you ready to do this?"

Sarah only had time to quickly nod before her dad punched the button.

As the organ, violin, and harp began unfolding the melody of Canon in D, Sarah thanked the Lord that He had turned a disaster so horrendous into something so beautiful. She felt no embarrassment to enter the Lord's sanctuary to wed her precious Dean, adorned by an eye covering made by a child. Her slight limp, she was sure no one would see. As for her eye patch, her dad said it made her look regal, and judging from the dropped jaws which turned to huge smiles throughout the sanctuary, everyone agreed with him.

When they reached the first pew, Sarah turned to her mother with a question in her eyes. No words of response from Kate. Both her hands, however, flew to her heart, which she tapped repeatedly on her chest, while a smile began extending from one side of her face to the other.

Looking confidently now to Dean as she walked the four steps up to the stage, his mouth formed only four words, "My beautiful, beautiful bride."

# Chapter 18

KiirstiAan's email to me:

Mom,

Evan and I both just loved this story! It's amazing! Evan said he wouldn't believe it was true if you and Daddy hadn't actually been there. To think that nobody at the wedding knew the background of all the happenings before the day of the wedding. All they knew was what they read in the wedding program insert and then saw Sarah enter through the double doors with the eye patch on. Speaking of which, how did you know all the background things with Sarah's mom Kate, Dean, Caitlin and her mom, Jennifer?

I gotta tell ya, if that had happened to me, I would have cancelled out the wedding so quick, it woulda made your head spin. (The Draytons would have lost beaucoup bucks if it had been cancelled. You already told me that through your searching for my wedding, all the venues have non-refundable charges after a certain amount of time.) Man, you and Dad could have paid for my whole wedding with what they woulda lost!

Now, you knew this would happen, so let's get started with the numbered list.

1. _How is Caitlin? (If you tell me that she died, I'm just going to break down and cry.)_

2. _I know this wedding has been several years back, so I'm assuming (please tell me I'm right) that Sarah's face healed up ok over time._

3. _And... I have this funny feeling you're going to tell me that Caitlin, if still living, now has an online business making bridal eye patches, or headpieces or something, so you might as well give me the web site address now. (Not, Lord willing, that I'll have a mishap like Sarah's, but at this stage, I'm thinking I need all the information I can get about wedding ideas, samples, repairs, etc.)_

Before I go on, Evan and I have this feeling like there's even more of an '... Or Was It?' to this story. (You know...even more good things coming out of this wedding disaster.)

Actually, we both like where you ended the story, when Dean saw her at the stage and whispered about her being his "beautiful, beautiful bride." It was complete right there. And, you did share in the story that Kate's heart had changed throughout the course of events, she loved Sarah's eye patch, and apparently having Caitlin introduced into her life was worth to Sarah everything she went through.

Just fill us in on everything we don't know about the rest of the story.

I have some things about Even's and my wedding that I need to discuss with you. (If you're scared it involves a numbered list, be afraid, be very, very afraid!)

P.S. I don't remember if I thanked you for my work lunch? (Did I mention that I didn't know until this week that hummus was made from ground up chickpeas?) And, oh, those wedding magazines! I've just about worn them out. They're all raggedy and have soda spills all over them. But, they sure have been fun! (My favorite gown in the whole Modern Bride magazine now has a Hershey's with Almonds candy bar stain on the model's left breast. Very classy-looking!)

P.P.S. Look at the length of this. I've never written emails this long in my life!

Love you!

My email reply to KiirstiAan:

Hey, Toots!

I was just sitting here admiring my new wireless keyboard, and thinking how much more comfortable this one is than the one that just experienced "death by mocha latte." (I really did think that cleaning it and applying WD40 was going to be the solution.) Simultaneously, I was thinking back on the story I just finished. I realized that when I was writing about the long ribbons on the patch Caitlin gave Sarah, it made me think of something. (Don't ask me why ribbons made me think of your garter. I'm an old woman. Indulge me. Ha ha!)

You told me a few days ago that you weren't going to have Evan remove your garter during the reception, even though you do plan to wear one, just because wearing one is traditional.

I got to thinking. And, it's only a thought.

You've been trying to come up with a way to give your purity ring to him. Maybe you'll like this idea.

What if you remove the "flowery thingie" from the garter (when you shop for one you'll see there always is one!) and hand stitch on your purity ring in its place. Then, put it into an envelope along with a small handwritten note (or you could even have it printed out on one of those diy printers in the stationery stores) that thanks Evan for helping you during your time together to remain chaste until your wedding day. Maybe tell him in it that "As of this day, this and I both belong in your safe-keeping" (or something like that).

Give the envelope to Jonathan. When he gives the best man's toast at the dinner, he can say that you sent it to Evan with the instructions that he is to read its contents and show everyone the garter after the reception dinner.

He gets his garter and you and he have just shared that purity is possible, even in the twenty-first century.

Anyway, it's just a possibility.

My email to KiirstiAan:

I think our emails must have passed each other in cyberspace.

While I'm waiting for your response to the purity ring thing, I'll address the stuff in your email.

1 and 3 kind of go together.

Yes, Caitlin is still alive. Her hair has grown back and looks beautiful. It hangs down her back, but honestly, that's about the only good news. They are "guardedly optimistic" (that hateful phrase, although it does hold some needed hope). She has some days she feels pretty good, but most days not so much. Her parents took her out of school and she has been home-schooled for the last two years.

Now for the positive part.

Caitlin knows firsthand how horrible cancer is. But, rather than spending her time feeling sorry for herself, she decided to do something about it.

The night of Sarah's wedding, almost everyone asked where in the world she had gotten that eye patch. By the next day, Jennifer had gotten a massive amount of calls about Caitlin's eye patches, and inquiries as to whether she made any other "blingy" things.

_I don't know all the details, but apparently Caitlin_ does _have an online business making beautiful pouches, hair ribbons, headbands, chokers, bracelets and some other stuff I can't remember._

But, here's the kicker. Seventy-five percent of the profit goes to cancer research, while the remaining twenty-five percent goes to inventory, postage, business paperwork and whatever else needed to run the business. More precisely, just business expenses.

_I actually read a human interest piece online recently about her. It told all about her business. In the last three years, Caitlin has given almost twenty-five thousand dollars to cancer research. And, apparently since the online article, she's had calls and emails from people wanting to contribute by placing inordinately large orders for her pretty things. And, I guess, several young kids also struggling with cancer are meeting with her to consider contributing_ their _little designs (earrings and some other things my pitiful mind can't remember)._

_If you want to, you can Google_ Caitlin's Cancer Crusher. _The campaign isn't named anything sophisticated or exotic, but Jennifer let Caitlin name it herself, and according to the article, that's exactly what Caitlin's hoping her business will do... crush cancer. When you find the website, let me know what it's like. I haven't been there._

Oh, yeah... Sarah's face.

It healed, but not until after a small plastic surgery procedure. I guess the two stitches in the soft tissue below her eye were puckering kind of weird, so they corrected that. Now she's fine, and, incidentally, she and Dean are expecting their first baby. Don't know any details of it at all, so don't bother asking. But, I'm so excited for them!

Listen, gotta run. Much to do today (well, what's left of today). I have an appointment later today. Don't ask what it's about, because I don't know if I told you or not, but my daughter is getting married and she's leaving the whole wedding-planning to me. Go figure!

L8R

KiirstiAan's email to me:

Just a quick note about Jeffrey Avenue Baptist. Don't bother going to look at it. I did that with Evan.

While it probably would have been a great location for Chelsea's wedding, it isn't what the two of us want.

The whole time I was looking around inside, I kept thinking, "Barn-Raising." It was sooo rustic! The sanctuary seating was made up of rummage sale chairs. I don't think there were more than three chairs in the whole place that matched. Most all of them were old, old, old (not to be confused with vintage). They were battered and the few I sat down in not only creaked, but wobbled. There were even a small number of rocking chairs.

Also, they only had a piano, and it wasn't in great shape. Plus, it needed tuning desperately. I didn't even ask if it could be tuned, though, because we prefer an organ.

I did ask, however, if we could use birdseed packets out front for showering the bride and groom. He was sweet, but said that the parishioner who does the grounds-keeping (and I use that term loosely), only works twice monthly. When I couldn't give him a date for the wedding yet, he couldn't say if the weekend of our wedding would allow for the cleanup, so he probably should just say not to count on it. He did say we could use hand-held bubble blowers, though. But, I don't think that's what we want. Or is it? Oh... I don't know. I'm so confused. See why I'm leaving it up to you?!

Funny thing is, we asked him so many questions, that I'm sure he thought we were a sure deal, when in reality we both knew from the moment we entered the front doors that this place wasn't for us.

Actually, you would have loved that moment, Mom.

The pastor opened the doors and we followed him in. Practically the second we crossed the threshold, we stopped, slowly turned our faces to each other, and just stared at each other for a couple seconds. Not a word spoken. Those two seconds said it all.

However, there was a certain country charm to the place, just not refined enough for our English Country Garden wedding.

You can go ahead and check out Christ Covenant, though. We haven't looked at it yet.

Talk to ya later.

Oh, wait... I never responded to your purity ring idea.

I luv it! I also had an idea or two. We'll compare notes later. Maybe we can combine some of our two ideas and come up with a purity ring/garter/anything else hybrid of our own.

P.S. Have you noticed that for leaving the entire planning up to you, that I'm sure giving a considerable amount of input?!

_This is the part where if you gave me any grief over my ideas, I'd say something about it being_ my _wedding. Thank you for your patience, Mommy!_

LUV U

KiirstiAan's email to me:

Ok... Where to begin with Evan's and my wedding stuff?

This may or may not be in any particular order. I think what I'll do is just number each item as I have them written down on my list. (A numbered list? Really? What a shocker coming from me, huh?)

1. _Venue? I remember thinking that you are having to coordinate two venues, one for the wedding and one for the reception. Just wondering if you've come any closer. You haven't said anything much about that. I know that you won't be going to check out Jeffrey Avenue Baptist, but wondered if anywhere else has presented itself._

2. _I know you purchased a whole mess of that 'twool' on Thursday (what Chelsea's old country lady called it). I couldn't believe you bought all those bolts. With that amount of tulle you could cover an entire church building. My intention was to ask how you think you're gonna use it, but since we don't even have the venues nailed down, you probably don't know yourself. All I know is judging from the amount alone, I know our wedding is going to be so romantic looking. (I looove tulle!)_

3. _Evan and I decided that we want the entire wedding to be in blue. Anywhere from light to medium, or a mixture of shades and tints. No particular styles in mind for my attendants, flower girl, or you, Mom. Just whatever you think is most lovely with my gown and the theme. (BTW, you know when I say 'the entire wedding', you know that I'm talking about dresses, not the flowers, right?)_

4. _What kind of headpiece do you think would be best with my wedding gown? I've been thinking about it ever since I read that Sarah wore a tiara. (I don't think I've ever been to a wedding where the bride wore anything but a veil. I think they were just attached to a comb.) And, as I've said before... I'm so confused! This is another one of those things I think I'll need to leave to you._

5. _This one I saved until last, because I have so much to say about it. I am so excited with the mid-calf lace Victorian boots you got me from Andriana's Bridal when we went out Saturday. I had my heart dead set against them when you first suggested them. I always thought of them as being kinda frumpy. I always pictured myself in a strappy three-inch heel that looked very girlie. Because Evan is so tall, I knew I could get away with something really high._

But, when you pointed out those boots, it was like a flash of light. I realized immediately that if we're trying to pull off an English Country Garden theme, then I really wanted something that looked like it would really be worn in a garden during the Victorian era. And, as you pointed out, because the heel is only one and one-half inches high, and is kinda squatty in shape, I would be much less likely to slip during the walk up the aisle or going up and down the steps in the front of the church sanctuary. (I guess I'm making assumptions about the church, when we won't know for sure until we lock down the venue, huh?)

Continuing with my assumption about there being steps, since the dress is all the way to the floor, no one will even see my feet until I lift my skirt and walk down the steps after the ceremony. What a shocker! I don't think anyone will expect my Victorian boots. I have never been to a wedding where the bride has worn anything like them.

This is just so exciting, I can't stand it!

Mom, thank you for the suggestion. I just love your vision of this wedding. I'm so blessed to have you as my wedding planner.

BTW... As my wedding planner, you should know that you are to spare no expense in making this the most gorgeous wedding that ever was or ever will be experienced on this side of heaven! Ha ha!

Mommy, you rock!

My email reply to KiirstiAan:

I looked back over your email about the Jeffrey Avenue Baptist Church.

I had already dropped by there before you emailed me.

If you remember, on Saturday while we were out, you said that I didn't need to check in with you on any church or reception venue decisions. Because your engagement period is so short, you knew that I needed to be able to make immediate choices on the venues, without wasting time consulting, during which we might lose out on the place altogether. Remember?

Based on that, I checked out both churches. Jeffrey Avenue was, like you say, just too rustic. I agree.

I called Christ Covenant Church. They set up an appointment for me after work yesterday. But, before we even went into the sanctuary, the pastor's secretary asked how long we'd been attending there. When I told her we didn't attend there at all, she said she was so sorry, but they only marry couples that go there. They don't have to be members, but must have attended regularly for a minimum of six months prior to the wedding date. Seeing as how you will be engaged only three months total before the wedding, that place is out.

But, as I said before, don't panic. If I'm not nervous, you don't need to be.

In fact, don't be nervous about anything related to the wedding planning until I tell you it's time to be nervous.

Fair enough?!

K

C4N

KiirstiAan's email reply to me:

C4N???

My email reply to KiirstiAan:

Ciao for now. (I was feeling continental.)

When I was looking up how to say goodbye in Italian, I got on a site that showed the hand signs for hello and goodbye. They're exactly the opposite of ours. You wave American goodbye for Italian hello, and American hello for Italian goodbye. (Could that possibly be right?) Very bazaar.

I'm already confused. Remind me never to go traveling to Italy.

If I heard one of the nationals say, "Ciao", I would say, "Yes, absolutely", because I'd think he was saying, "Chow", and as you know, I'm always hungry!

Let's continue tomorrow, k? I'm so tired. I need to go to bed.

K?

KiirstiAan's email reply to me:

^5

# Chapter 19

My email to KiirstiAan:

Hi, Cutie.

I am free as a bird today, so I am using the entire day as a wedding planning day.

I have never been one for extensive lists like you, but I wanted you to see the one I'm working off of right now. That way you can add to it, if you feel like it's necessary.

Nothing is in any kind of order. It's very random. Right now I just want to make sure everything is included.

1. _Church Venue?_

2. _Reception Venue?_

3. _Officiant? I'm assuming you want Pastor Regan, but haven't asked since we don't have a date yet._

4. _Music? You've talked about organ and trumpet, so that's what I'm working toward._

5. _Florist? Looks like we'll be going with Evan's friend, Timothy._

6. _Caterer? First I need the venue and date. Some venues have their own catering staff._

7. _Bakery? Well, I know Tricia and her husband are making the wedding cake, but you never said if you wanted a groom's cake or not. It might be better if we get something really special for his cake from a bakery._

8. _Color Theme? Blue._

9. _Flower Girl and Ring Bearer? You've never really mentioned about these, so you can get back to me whenever._

10. _Wedding Invitations and RSVP Cards? I know which stationer I'm planning to use, but can't get started on invitations until the church and reception places/date are locked down._

11. _Bridesmaids? I know you've asked Tricia. Do you have any others decided on, or are you waiting for the date/venues? Your dad is going to pay for all dresses (bridesmaids, flower girl, my dress). You'll need to decide what shoes they are to have. They'll need to buy those themselves._

12. _Wedding Gown? I am sooo glad you already have your dress. The story behind why and how you have already had it for a year and a half will make a great story to tell your kids and grandkids._

13. _Bridal Accessories? You have your Victorian Boots, but we still need to make decisions on headpiece, hair accessories depending on how you plan to wear your hair, undergarments. Also, small things like nail polish, lipstick, anything that you might want something special just for that day._

14. _Groomsmen? Has Evan mentioned who his attendants are going to be, other than Jonathan, who will be his Best Man? Get him to thinking about it. You haven't said, but I'm assuming you'll want the same number of attendants apiece? If not, that's ok, but you two just need to be thinking._

15. _Male Attendants' Tuxes? I assume (have you noticed that I do a lot of that?!) you'll want to give some thought to what will look best with your wedding gown and English Country Garden theme. This will be for the best man, groomsmen, ring bearer, your dad and Evan's dad._

16. _Decorations for Church and Reception Venues? We can't do this, of course, until we know the venue locations and date. (I'm thinking like sparkly white lights, tulle, anything else that would decorate the room (or church) themselves._

17. _Photographer? For engagement pictures, bride's portrait, and wedding. We'll need to schedule the engagement pictures and bride's portrait soon. One goes into the newspaper announcement, and the other is for framing and sitting in the entry of the reception venue._

18. _Videographer? I'll ask around. Surely someone from church has some ideas._

19. _Reception Dinner Menu? Once I locate a venue and caterer, I'll get the menu options back to the two of you as quickly as possible so you can decide together what you want for the dinner menu._

20. _Reception Music? You've never said if you prefer a stringed quartet, dj, canned music._

21. _Wedding Music? Any ideas on a soloist?_

22. _Ballerina? I don't know if I mentioned or not, but the McAllisters at church have a fourteen year old daughter, Nadia, in the church worship dance group. She is very accomplished and said that for your dad and me she would joyfully do an opening performance for your wedding. She said she'll use whatever music you want and just needs to be let into the church the day before the wedding so that she can choreograph it. Trust me, she is amazing! What do you think?_

That's about all either you or I can handle right now. I just really need to get the venues nailed down. There are so many things that depend on them.

I have three church venue appointments and two reception venues scheduled for today. That is the only mission I have today.

I will get back to you as soon as I know anything.

_By the way, just to whet your appetite, the name of the next story is going to be,_ Twinkly, Twinkly Wedding Sight _._

T2UL

KiirstiAan's email reply to me:

" _Talk to you later." I got it. (You're really getting into this texting thing, aren't you?)_

Either email me or give me a call tonight and we'll hash over whatever you find out today.

Wow! Your list is huge! If there's more, don't tell me right now. What you've put down to paper is already overwhelming. I can't take in any more.

Oh, the one thing you can go ahead with is the ballerina. I have never, ever been to a wedding where a ballerina danced to open the ceremony. I just looove it! Would it be appropriate to have her stand with my bridesmaids when she's finished, as though she were also an attendant? Evan counted up the men he wants as his groomsmen and he has one more than I do. If the ballerina stood up there with my girls, it would be even on both sides. We can even have a bouquet made for her, leave it on the front pew and she can pick it up as she joins the bridesmaids after her dance. I think I really like this idea!

One more thing while I'm thinking about it...

I don't know one single little girl and boy to act as flower girl and ring bearer. I guess that's inevitable when you're an only child, your fiancé has three brothers, but all of them are younger and unmarried, having no children, and all your cousins that have children the right age live on the West Coast, while you're on the East Coast. I'm going to leave this one entirely in your hands, Momma.

L8R

::poof::

My email reply to KiirstiAan:

_Changed my mind. I'm calling this next story,_ Angel White, Twinkly Bright Nuptials _._

'Night!

# Chapter 20

The church was old. Stately and old. The kind of old that included a stone exterior, tall spires, a bell tower, and the typical side yard graveyard with lavish headstones that spoke of deceased members who came from "old money."

Although neither Melissa nor James were members, the church minister had assured them that the only concern was that the couple were born-again believers in- and followers of Jesus Christ.

After sharing their salvation testimonies with the elderly man, Reverend Johnson Reeves grinned from ear-to-ear and said his church would be glad to host their nuptials. Nuptials? Really? They'd never heard anyone use that phrase in this century, so although they knew the word and it was used by the old minister correctly, they broadly smiled at each other. No doubt, the elderly man thought it was because he had just told them they could marry here, but in reality, while that was partly it, it was mainly because of the term itself, which frankly tickled them.

Upon being accepted, Melissa and James shared with the minister that they would like their own pastor to be the lead officiant, but would be honored if he would be co-pastor, whose responsibility would be prayer in the wedding service.

"I would be most honored to co-pastor the wedding of my younger brother and sister in Christ."

Melissa smiled the huge smile she was known for, and responded, "Thank you, Reverend Reeves. James and I are blessed to have you there celebrating with us."

As they left the church property, Melissa turned around and gazed at the building one final time. She squealed, "Yea! I can't believe we're going to be married in this gorgeous church!"

James grabbed hold of the hand of this woman he so loved, and they strolled back to the car. Happy at having completed one of their gazillion wedding planning duties, they drove off to the Dairy Queen down the street to celebrate their success at having secured their wedding venue. Yes, a hot fudge sundae was definitely the earned reward!

*****

The sanctuary had needed little embellishment to be adorned for a wedding. It was regal. Everything about it was visually awe-inspiring. So, all Melissa had needed to do was place a large spray of white roses on the communion table at the base of the pulpit and add a large white satin bow on both sides of the inside aisle at the end of every third long carved wooden pew, then loop a length of white tulle to connect them. Wedding decorations done.

Melissa could not believe that her wedding day had come so quickly, although not quickly enough for her.

As she stood outside the church on the arm of her beloved father, she leaned closely to him and half whispered, "Daddy, look at the sky. Have you ever seen a night sky with this many stars?"

"No, I don't believe I ever have. And, don't think it didn't cost me a boatload of money to arrange it."

Melissa giggled and punched his arm slightly. "Daddy," she said, as she shook her head in disbelief at his levity right before this holy service.

"Thank you for my beautiful wedding. James and I are both stunned that you let us have just about anything we asked for. This is a dream come true!"

"Sweet Girl, your mom and I are so proud of the woman you are and continue to become by your life decisions. And, of all the men in the world, I truly think we would have chosen James for you."

Melissa swiped a small unbidden tear from her eye.

"Daddy, would you pray with me right now, that the attention tonight will be on Jesus, not us? Today is nothing if Jesus isn't the honored guest."

His response was typical, "Would you like to pray, or shall I?"

"I will. This will be the last time we'll pray together before I'm a married woman."

Bowing their heads, Melissa began, "Jesus, Thank you first that James and I both know you. Please be with us as we vow before you and all these witnesses to love and cherish each other for the rest of our lives as husband and wife.

"We know that not everyone here tonight knows you. Please make this wedding service a holy and worshipful time. Make it beautiful for Yourself, Lord, and take all the glory. Amen."

"Amen!" Andrew wondered how this godly young woman could have come from him. He felt unworthy.

Andrew squeezed the hand of this beautiful young woman that was his daughter.

She squeezed back.

Within a minute after their shared petition before the Lord, they were summoned by the wedding planner to come into the vestibule.

As Melissa and her father walked through the church doors into the vestibule, Melissa could hear through the double doors into the sanctuary the strains of beautiful classical music on the organ. She had always dreamed of hearing the music of the old classical masters, then walking to James during the strains of Canon in D.

The first chord of Canon in D was struck with authority on the organ.

"Here we go, Daddy."

The sanctuary doors flew open due to the simultaneously fast work of the wedding planner at one door, and a woman Melissa did not know at the other door.

In her quick glance in, Melissa saw all the wedding attendants, the two pastors, two hundred and fifty smiling guests. Her eyes ultimately rested on her beloved James.

And at that instant, the unthinkable happened...

A loud boom (or was it a bang?). The entire church became as black as a midnight with no moon or stars. The organ abruptly stopped, and the entire congregation was engulfed in darkness, totally silent black darkness.

For whatever reason, Melissa began counting. _One, two, three... Are the lights ever going to come back on? ... eight, nine, ten... Come on, come on! ... thirteen, fourteen... They aren't coming back on, are they?!_

This was just the worst wedding disaster... ever! Or was it?

*****

# Chapter 21

Two months earlier...

"Hey, Rev. What 'r' ya doin' outside on a day as cold as 'dis?"

"I could ask the same of you, Angel."

"Just doin' my fiddle thing. What 'bout you?"

"Well, I guess a couple of things. I'm on my way to the coffee shop for some breakfast and a cup of hot coffee before I begin my workday. I could have driven, I suppose, since I pass the coffee shop on the way to the church, but if I don't walk, then I would miss your 'violin concert'."

"Rev, how long you been stoppin' here to stand and listen to me play?"

"How long have you been playing the violin at this sidewalk corner, Angel? A year and a half?"

"Two years come November."

"Then I have been coming to listen to your playing for two years come November."

Reverend Reeves tossed a ten dollar bill in Angel's open violin case.

"Rev, you don't need to do 'dat every time you come by here."

"True, but if I don't, you may find some other location downtown like the civic center that's more lucrative, and I would miss your 'concerts' terribly."

"Well, since I ain't got no car, that might be a bit of a walk. Let's see... seven miles one way, 'dat's fourteen miles roun' trip. That's an awful lot a' hours wasted 'dat I wouldn't be gettin' no earnin's in my fiddle case."

"Well, then I guess my little pittance has helped convince you to stick around.

"Ok, Angel, get to playing. I always pray while I walk, and having your violin accompaniment helps. How about making your next selection, 'Sweet Hour of Prayer.' Oh... you want your usual? Sausage and cheese biscuit and large coffee, no cream or sugar?"

"You got it, Rev. Oh, Rev? If I kin ever do _you_ a favor of any kind, you'll let me know, right?"

"You know I will, Angel. And right now you can play 'Sweet Hour of Prayer'."

"Gotcha covered, Rev."

*****

# Chapter 22

KiirstiAan's email to me:

Angel? Who's Angel? I'm going to assume that he fits into the story somewhere further on? You haven't inserted any flashbacks in the other stories. Come to think of it, you've never had any flashbacks in any of the wedding disaster stories you've personally told me.

And, while I'm questioning things...

Why did you only email me the first part of the story? You must have known that I'd be chompin' at the bit to find out what happens. (Still trying to fit the guy Angel into the scheme of things.)

I've already gone through and made some spelling corrections and put some quotes and commas in their correct locations. Oh, I also corrected a run-on sentence. So, I'm ready to go on to the conclusion of this story.

Oh... It just now clicked that the title of this story, "Angel White, Twinkly Bright Nuptials" has the word 'Angel' in it. I'm going to assume that the guy whose name is Angel makes him have something to do with this story. Really having trouble figuring out, though, how some homeless person would even remotely fit into it. (Hard to believe I'm so smart, huh?! My momma didn't raise no fools!)

Mom, I've got a new thought for a reception venue, but it's too much to email about. I'll call you tomorrow and we'll talk. It's sooo gorgeous!

I'm at Evan's family house. Evan, his brothers, his parents, and an aunt and uncle are all here for dinner and we're reading them all the stories you've written so far. They were asking so many questions about our wedding plans that we couldn't answer that Evan diverted their attention by suggesting we read your stories to them. I was hoping I'd have the rest of this story, so that I could read it to them also.

See... You're already a famous author!

Oops, gotta go. Evan's mom just called us to the table.

L8R

XOXO

My email reply to KiirstiAan:

Well, before you go congratulating yourself on not being a fool...

What makes you think Angel is homeless? Bad assumption, Cutie. As a matter of fact, he's not. He has a small apartment down the street from the corner he plays on. He leads a basic no-frills lifestyle, but he's definitely not homeless.

I know you're going to ask me how I know if he's homeless or not, and how I would know where he lives. So...

Nope, on second thought, I've decided you have to wait. (The suspense is killing you, isn't it?!) I feel so powerful!

I'll talk to you sometime tomorrow. Give me a call anytime after nine in the morning. I'm going to bed shortly and plan on sleeping in. Your dad has a pretty bad headache and he really needs a good night's sleep. So, we're going to crawl in bed. He'll probably go to sleep right away. I'm just going to read a while first. So, don't call us when you get home from Evan's parents' home.

I'm looking forward to any ideas or suggestions you might have on reception venues. The good news is that I have a couple of possibilities in a holding pattern until we thoroughly talk it through and make a decision. (Typical stuff. Each has tradeoffs. Some great things, some not so much.)

I put a deposit down on both places, so we need to make a decision within the next two days so I won't lose the deposits.

Your daddy just said, "Tell her I love her and goodnight."

So, "Your dad loves you and goodnight."

I LUV U 2

KiirstiAan's email reply to me:

It's almost midnight, so I know you won't read this until morning. But, I just wanted you to know that the venue suggestion I had is no longer in the running.

Neither of us was feeling great so we left early, and I had him drive by the place. There is a FOR LEASE sign in front. You would have loved this place, Mom! It kinda looks like an old southern plantation. Even its name is cool, The White Rose Manor.

I'm glad you have two on hold.

We'll talk in the morning.

BTW... Finish the story, would ya?!

P.S. Ok, so I messed up on assuming Angel is homeless. But, at least I did figure out that he's in the story. Does that make me just half foolish?!

*****

KiirstiAan's email to me:

Mom,

I think Daddy's illness is contagious. After Evan drove me home last night, I started getting a horrible headache. Within an hour of getting home, I threw up three different times. My rib cage is so sore this morning.

I'm not getting out of bed today. Evan offered to come and bring me meals today, but I told him I'm too sick to eat. (I can't believe my rib cage hurts so bad! I must have thrown up harder than I realized for me to hurt this bad.)

I'm so sorry that I've messed up our plans to talk about the two venues this morning. I was going to suggest we go look at them together today and then compare the two, but until I feel human again, I'm not leaving this bed.

Momma, do you think you can bring me some soda crackers and 7-Up sometime today? I've had the dry heaves a couple of times already, and I'm convinced that it would be better to have something in my stomach that I can just bring up and be done with it.

When do you have to decide on one of these reception halls before you lose the dep...

Sick again...

My email reply to KiirstiAan:

We must have passed around some bug. I was throwing up all night. I feel a lot better this morning. I was able to eat a little dry cereal with milk. It's been two hours and I've kept it down. Other than weak, I'm really not feeling too bad.

Your dad isn't vomiting anymore, but he still has the headache. He'll probably be in bed most (if not all) of the day. I'm going to take him in some crackers. He told me he doesn't want them, but I'm going to just leave them on his bedside table.

Don't worry about the reception places. If you're not feeling any better by tomorrow, I may just have to go make the decision myself. Would that distress you something awful?

Your dad's calling. Gotta go.

I'll bring you some crackers and Sprite in a little while. (Don't feel like going to the store first to get 7-Up.)

Hang in there!

KiirstiAan's email reply to me:

Evan just called. He's been throwing up all morning. No one's home but him. If you feel like you can possibly do it, could you take some of those crackers and soda to him too?

If you can, his house key is on the driver's side tire, hidden under the tire hood of his car. It's in the driveway. Please don't forget to put it back when you leave.

Just go on in. If you can hear him throwing up, just put the stuff in the kitchen and leave. He would be so humiliated if you saw him. If you don't hear anything, sneak down the hall and knock on the door. Just tell him you've brought crackers and Sprite. Ask him if he wants you to bring th....

Oh, man! Sick again...

KiirstiAan's email to me:

Nausea has passed.

Thanks for the crackers, Sprite and chicken soup. (Boy, when we're sick, are we cliché, or what?!)

Sorry that Evan was heaving over the toilet when you got there. I emailed him about the crackers, soda and soup. He replied that he'd get up and get the stuff in a while, when he's feeling better.

No, Evan and I don't mind at all if you make the reception venue choice. We both love your vision for our wedding, and we both trust you completely.

It would have been fun to go together, but, hey, life just happens, doesn't it?!

I don't think I'll be emailing you any more today or tonight. I'm just ruined, but so thankful not to be nauseated anymore.

I'll eat some of the soup this evening, if I can.

I LUV U, Mommy.

We'll talk L8R.

P.S. If you truly loved me, you'd finish the story and email it to me. Now that I'm not nauseated, I could use just a bit of entertainment.

Evan's email to me:

Thanks for the soup and crackers. I think it was the Sprite that actually kept me from dying, though.

I think KA already told you we're fine with you picking out our reception location.

I love you, Mom. (I'm practicing. Although calling you that doesn't sound as strange as I thought it would.)

Goodnight.

My email reply to Evan:

Glad the food helped.

Yes, KiirstiAan told me you're ok with me picking out the location. Thanks for the faith in me.

_I love you back, Son. (Actually, calling you that_ does _sound strange. But, then I don't call KiirstiAan, Daughter.)_

Continue your practicing. I love the sound of it! (It's my second choice, however. My first choice would be "Your Royal Highness," but somehow I think you're going to be resistant to that one.)

Goodnight. Hope you're able to sleep ok.

My email reply to KiirstiAan:

Ok, Sweetie.

I'll get back on the story, finish up the last of it and try to get it emailed to you today, although it may be more like tonight.

It'll have to wait a while, because I have the appointments at the two reception venues. So far, I don't feel nervous about making the choice. Pray for me today that I will exercise wisdom and make the right decision. And, remember that the right decision might be coming to the conclusion that neither one is what is best. Then, we'll be back to square one, and I'll have to spend the rest of the day looking at other locations.

If, however, I decide on one of these two, I think I'll take advantage of the time I'm out anyway looking around at churches. I've got my iPhone, so I can look up other churches, map them out and drive around until something materializes.

If I don't decide on either one of the two reception locations, then I'll spend the rest of the day looking for both churches and reception venues. (I'm starting to hate the word "venue.")

(Don't suppose you'd like to make your wedding a couple months later, huh???)

Just kidding!

B4N (Bye for now? Did I get that right?)

Oh well, at least I'm still trying to learn texting.

*****

My email to KiirstiAan:

Well, you've got a choice.

You can either yell at me for not calling you yesterday evening, or...

You can rejoice, because you are going to have your wedding reception at...

wait for it... The Weeping Willow!

You are just going to die when you see this place!

I still can't believe they still had it available on your chosen date. The lady who helped me said the same thing. She said that reception venues are usually booked close to a year in advance. In fact, she said that this is the shortest time span before the wedding that she's ever booked. She says we displaced a record-holding booking that was three and a half months before the wedding.

Are we special, or what?!

The outside front lawn of this place is not to be believed. There is a ginormous weeping willow tree that greets you when you drive in the two hundred and forty-five foot long driveway. It hangs over the driveway entrance. You can't even see the building until you drive almost all the way back to it. But, you don't want the driveway to end, because the flowers and shrubs that edge the driveway on both sides are phenomenal, and I've never seen such green, green grass in my life.

The building itself looks like an English cottage, only a huge one. (Talk about fitting into your English Country Garden theme, it's insane!) And, to walk in the reception hall, you have to pass through a garden gate that opens to a stone walkway. After maybe fifteen to twenty steps, you cross over a bridge that has fish swimming in the stream below it, then another maybe thirty feet to the front entrance.

Oh, I almost forgot...

The cottage is covered in twenty-five thousand small white twinkle lights. (That's not an exaggeration on my part, she told me this.) The lady that showed me around turned them on, and even though it was daytime you could see that it would be a romantic fantasyland vision at night.

I have to describe the inside to you, but I'm too exhausted to do that tonight.

I think what I'm going to do is finish the last little bit of the story, email that to you, then go to bed. Shouldn't take me more than maybe thirty minutes to finish up.

I wasn't sick today, but I'm really tired, have been all day. I probably shouldn't have spent the day reception-venue hunting right after that "blight" we all had. But, now that it's ours, I feel such a sense of satisfaction.

I've attached some pictures of the interior of the place, and a floor plan.

You can get an idea of what it looks like inside, then as soon as we're both feeling up to it, we'll go look at it together.

Or...

Don't open the attachments at all, and when you and Evan walk in after your wedding, you can just both be dazzled by it!

Your choice!

What do you say?!

Now, I've got to keep on church-hunting.

G'night, Cutie.

My email to KiirstiAan:

Did I say that I have two church venue appointments tomorrow? Sometimes I think I have too many details on my mind and am not letting you in on them. Be sure to pray about this. I'm sure the Lord has a wonderful church in mind, and will lead us to it.

_Ok, now I really_ am _going to finish the story._

Really! I am! I'm not kidding this time!

Enough of this nonsense.

I'll send the story ending as quickly as possible.

Again, G'night.

# Chapter 23

Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen... These lights definitely are not coming back on! Lord, what are you doing? Eighteen, nineteen, twenty... Jesus, this is my wedding. This isn't supposed to happen! You're supposed to make this into the most wonderful and memorable night of my life! Twenty-one, twenty-two... What do we do if the lights just simply don't ever come back on? Lord, I can hear people starting to whisper. And, I hear that little girl crying. She's scared of the dark. Jesus, please... We need a miracle!

*****

They had been plunged into darkness not more than fifteen seconds when Pastor Jerry felt his left arm being squeezed by Reverend Reeves, who was now leaning in and whispering to him.

"Jerry, I'll take care of this. I'm leaving in the next few seconds. You're going to have to keep this going. I've got an idea.

"Go ahead and give the welcome and talk with the congregation about how Christians view marriage as opposed to the world's view. Then, if I'm still gone, go ahead and give the couple their marriage charge. If not before, I should be back by the end of that part. If not, improvise, Brother.

"And, make sure the bride and her father don't move from where they are. They aren't to begin walking up the aisle until they see light.

"Got it?"

"Got it."

With a deep breath and a calm resolve, Pastor Jerry began.

"Dearly Beloved, we are gathered here even in the darkness of this moment to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony."

Total quiet and calm entered the Lord's House at this moment.

"There are two very important illuminations that must come together to place this couple in God's Hand as one. One is light within this room so that this couple has the ability to find each other, and the second is the illumination that can only come from God's Word.

"To the bride and groom, in your current separate locations in this sanctuary, I would say to you that it is actually something good the Lord has done this evening in letting you have these moments with no light. It gives you the opportunity to tune out all other things and exclusively think on what marriage is, as God designed it..."

With the affirmation of Pastor Jerry that he would "hold down the fort," and having begun words of welcome to all the wedding guests, Reverend Reeves turned and dashed in the darkness down the side stairs of the stage, turned left and half-walked, half-ran down the outside aisle until he passed through the small door that led into the narthex. (He and Pastor Jerry had been in their official positions on the stage, standing side-by-side, awaiting the bride to be brought forward and joined with her groom, where they would vow before God and this assembly to love, honor, and cherish each other until death would part them.)

It was fortunate that he had been at this church for decades now and could navigate almost every square inch of it blindfolded, because that is exactly what was needed at this moment.

Once in the vestibule, he went directly to the wedding planner and her assistant. They were easily found, even in the dark, because they were both huddled together and loudly whispering together in a panic-mode.

"Ok, here's what needs to be done.

"One of you needs to go to the choir room. Pull two blue choir robes and one men's white robe. You two each need to put on the blue robe. Don't bother with the neck sashes for each of you, but do bring a white one to go with the white robe only. Have the white robe and neck sash ready when I get back. The man I am bringing back is the violinist, and you need to have him put the robe and neck sash on. I will give him his instructions as I'm bringing him back.

"The other one of you needs to go to my office, where you'll find the white candles for the upcoming Christmas Eve Service. They're in the coat closet. Bring three of the four boxes here to the vestibule. You'll also find two large white baskets in that same closet. Bring those as well. Put half the candles in one basket, the other half in the other basket. Then each of you take a filled basket and place yourselves at either side aisle door. Station yourselves each just inside the door. Listen for my instructions from the pulpit. Just follow those instructions. Oh, don't forget you'll each need a candle lighter. Questions?"

Almost in unison, "No, we've got it." And, with that, each woman briskly walked out the side narthex door, one to the minister's office, the other to the choir room.

Having completed this portion of his mission, he bolted out the double front doors of the church and began running toward Angel's corner violin-playing station. He was prepared to go to Angel's apartment, if necessary, but having already whispered a prayer that the Lord would make Angel easily found, he audibly spoke this, "Thank you, Jesus. You're so faithful!"

Packing up his violin and closing his case, Angel was just now preparing to walk the short distance home to his apartment and say goodnight to another day of playing his old and beloved violin for passersby.

"Rev, slow down. What's wrong?"

"Nothing, if you're free and will allow me to cash in on the favor you said you wanted to do for me."

"I'm all yours, Rev."

As they ran back to the church, Reverend Reeves explained his plan to Angel. There was just enough street lighting that he could see Angel's grin at his forthcoming appointed duties. In fact, he chuckled and sped up his running enough that now Reverend Reeves had to step it up to stay astride him.

"Wow, Angel! Is this your way of telling me you ran track in high school?

"No, this is my way o' tellin' you I ran track on scholarship all the way through college."

Reverend Reeve's jaw dropped open. He didn't know Angel was a college graduate. By his displayed language skills, he was unsure Angel had even graduated high school.

"I know. It's a shocker, huh?! Rev, close yer mouth and breathe through yer nose 'til we git there."

Neither spoke again until they entered the church doors together and joined the blue-robed wedding planner and her assistant.

Reverend Reeves checked his watch, forgetting there was no light by which to read it. He was guessing maybe eight or nine minutes had passed since he left Pastor Jerry's side at the pulpit.

The wedding planner helped Angel into his robe and neck sash, then planner and assistant walked in opposite directions, feeling their ways along the wall until they felt the side aisle doors, which they then opened and stood directly inside, each with her basket of candles and a lighter.

Reverend Reeves quietly opened the double doors leading into the sanctuary, having just helped slip Angel into his robe and neck sash before entering, then pulled him around the bride and groom, placing him two strides in front of them and facing him in the direction of the pulpit.

With one squeeze of reassurance to Angel's arm, Reverend Reeves quickly walked from the back middle aisle where he had deposited the violinist, across the back left side and up the side aisle, up the stage steps, and stopped at Pastor Jerry's side, squeezing the clergy's arm just as he was finishing his words, charging Melissa and James to make Christ the foundation of their marriage.

Pastor Jerry knew this was the signal that Reverend Reeves would begin his speaking portion of this desperate "wedding save."

With a slight breathlessness, Reverend Reeves spoke.

"Remain seated and let's pray that the Lord will feel most welcome here this evening as two of His children, Melissa and James, join their lives in holy matrimony.

"Lord Jesus, we so thank you for your part in bringing Melissa and James together. Your Ways are awesome and we believe their union is part of Your bigger plan for their lives. Thank you. In Christ's Beloved Name we pray, amen."

With the prayer concluded, Reverend Reeves continued.

"Beloved family and friends, please stand." They stood.

"From the side aisles you will each receive a candle. Pass it to the person next to you. And keep receiving and passing until everyone in your pew has one.

"The outside aisle candle will be lit by the blue-robed attendants, but then we will light each other's candle with our own until all candles in the row are lighted.

"Melissa, follow the light and the music until you are joined here with your groom."

One-by-one, each person's candle on both sides of the back row was lit.

And, it was at that point that Angel mounted the violin between his shoulder and chin and began what were the most reverent and haunting strains of 'Amazing Grace.'

Oh, how does one explain the power and majesty of the sound that permeated the church sanctuary. It was not a traditional wedding song, but there is no other song that could have surmounted its beauty and its message.

All the while he played, Angel walked only as far as each row that was completely engulfed by candlelight on each side, then stood motionless, continuing to play, as he waited for the light of the next row forward to complete its glow, at which time he walked forward to that light, then stopped again. The process was unrelenting and totally magnificent. All the while, 'Amazing Grace' lit the way for the bride and her father, who followed Angel's steps forward, then halted, then stepped forward, then halted, following Angel's lead.

By the time the bride, on the arm of her father, reached the front of the church, Angel was concluding the musical piece. He turned to face the church body, and as Melissa's dad joined her hand to James', the musical phrases that remained were not lost to anyone in that congregation.

"I once was lost, but now I'm found, t'was blind, but now I see."

Almost as though on cue at the conclusion of the song, and joining of the hands of Melissa and James, the lights came back on with a slight jerk.

The entire congregation moaned in unison. The sound clearly translated to,

_No, wait, wait. Don't come back on. This is so indescribably beautiful. Please don't come back on._ But, when the lights did come on and remained steady, each person blew out his candle and held it.

Angel lowered his instrument and bow, smiled and walked to the organist. By now, Pastor Jerry was beginning the vows so Angel wasn't noticed when he lowered his head and whispered into the ear of the woman, asking her if he could please have the privilege of escorting the bride and groom out at the end of the ceremony. She replied with a grin and slightly nodded her head affirmatively. He then walked to the end of the front pew and sat down.

Pastor Jerry smiled and spoke solemnly.

"Beloved family and friends, please be seated. Witness now the vows that Melissa and James profess to each other before the Lord."

*****

"... and now, it is with great joy as ministers of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, that Reverend Reeves and I together pronounce you to be husband and wife.

"Melissa and James, you shared during your counseling sessions that you have saved your first kiss until this very day. So, James, what are you waiting for? Your bride awaits!"

The entire church body as one began applauding and cheering. There was even one wolf call from one of the groomsmen which initiated laughter from all present.

James took hold of one of Melissa's hands, swung her around in a complete circle, then dipped her low as their lips met for the first time.

But, when they parted, it wasn't over. In a giggling response, Melissa took James' face in both her hands and kissed him right back. Hard and long!

When they turned to face the congregation and exit the church, it was expected that the organist would begin her recessional arrangement. However, in an unexpected move Angel stood, walked back to his leading position in front of Melissa and James, and escorted them back out the same way he had brought them in.

Only this time, his violin song was a salute to victory, as he played with great enthusiasm, 'The Hallelujah Chorus.'

Once the bride and groom had been led out through the sanctuary double doors, into the vestibule, the doors were shut. Melba, the organist, began softly playing her original recessional selections as the guests left through each side aisle rear exit.

After their next kiss, which was in the narthex, they turned to thank their violin-benefactor for his participation in the ceremony. But, alas, he was gone.

James softly asked the same question Melissa was asking herself, "Who was that violinist?"

Melissa answered correctly, although she didn't know it at the time.

"I believe the Lord graced us on this day by sending us His 'Angel.'

And, indeed He had.

# Chapter 24

KiirstiAan's email to me:

Oh, Mommy, I want Angel to play for my wedding, too! If he's local, I really do think I'd love to have him do the same for us.

You should see me. I'm sitting here sobbing. (I'm such a sucker for this kind of thing.)

I just now finished up the story, 'cause I'm on my morning break. I'm gonna have to get these tears stopped before I can even focus in on the paperwork before me.

Oh, ugh. I just pulled out my hand mirror and was going to wipe under my eyes. You should see me. I look like a raccoon! Serious makeup repair needed.

Why am I like this?

And, I am serious about having Angel in my wedding. We'll have to talk about this on the phone.

The only difference I would make is leaving the lights on the whole time.

I realize that Melissa and James had no control over the lighting situation. It's so cool the way it worked out for them, though. What a blessing!

I loved the candle thingie too, but I don't really have a desire to have lights off at all. I think it would be great if the church we ultimately decide on has dimmer switches. Do churches have that, or am I delusional? I could see the lights down low with a multitude of candles glowing from stands all over the place. Wow! (I can see it vividly in my head.)

Since we're talking about the story first, I have some questions.

Was it ever revealed to the family and friends who Angel was? Did people ask about him at the reception? Did he ever show up again, or was he gone for good? Other than the wedding itself, did anything good come from it for Angel?

I think I'm kinda stunned that Angel is a college grad. I am going to take a wild guess and assume that Angel's degree has something to do with his skills on the violin. Right? Like maybe performance or teaching?

When you email me back, don't leave out anything!

Ok, on to other stuff.

You left off at number twenty-three on the wedding to-do list. But, I want to add another one.

When you were telling about the baskets with the candles at Melissa's and James' wedding, it made me realize that we need to get a basket and flower petals for the flower girl.

I know our church won't let you sprinkle real flowers on the carpeted aisles, so I'm assuming other churches may do the same. So, I went online today and Googled "artificial rose petals." I found a number of places that carry silk ones in a multitude of color options. But, I found this one site that has heart-shaped ones. Do you believe that? Heart-shaped! Am I allowed to make a request for them, instead of regular ones?

Oh, now that I think about it, we'll need a ring bearer's pillow, right?

That means I've just added:

23. _Heart-shaped light to medium pink artificial rose petals and a basket_

24. _Ring bearer's pillow with probably blue trim (to fit in with the blue color theme)_

And, finally, what's the status with the churches? Did either of the two work out?

LUV U

My email reply to KiirstiAan:

I'll tackle the questions on the story first, mainly because it's weighing on my mind. I feel such sadness about it.

Angel was killed in a car accident about two months ago.

It was prom night at the local high school. Angel always played until nine or ten p.m. on prom nights each year, because the attendees returned from the prom using this avenue.

Because it was the main route to all the nice restaurants, the kids came back this way after prom, drove slowly by Angel, and tossed money into his violin case on their way to their dinner reservations. (Normally, the kids are in high spirits on prom night and have a tendency to be generous with Angel on that night.)

Unfortunately, several of the prom-goers were drinking alcohol from their car trunks even before they left the prom. The school didn't allow it, but it's amazing how kids can manage a way to do anything they really want to.

The bottom line, when the drunken prom-goer who was the driver swerved for the passengers to toss money into Angel's case, his foot hit the accelerator and he struck Angel down right there. He died upon impact.

Apparently Pastor Jerry announced it from the pulpit, but your dad and I must have been gone that weekend. Several of our friends said he broke down and openly cried when he told the congregation about it. I don't think many people knew Angel, but Pastor knew quite a few of the families that had attended Melissa's and James's wedding, and at least knew of him.

Reverend Reeves held the memorial service at his church. We didn't know about that either, or we surely would have attended.

Sweetie, your dad's calling me. Apparently, one of the churches has called me. I'll email you after I talk with him.

Before I go...

Do I put the church on hold if they're calling to say we can have the church that evening, or do you want me to ask you first? I'll leave my email open while I'm on the phone, so get right back to me, 'k? If I don't get an email response, I'll tell them yes, I guess.

KiirstiAan's email reply to me:

Oh, mom, I can't believe this! Was Angel a believer? Please say yes.

Do whatever you think about the church. Yes or no, whatever you think. Evan and I trust you.

Either email or call me after you talk with them.

My email reply to KiirstiAan:

I am on the phone and checking your response at that same time. They said we can have it. So, I've just told them yes.

I'll email you as soon as I'm off the phone with them.

Yay! (I can't believe I'm spelling this like kids do today.)

My email to KiirstiAan:

This is just so exciting!

You're getting married at Friendly Bridge Bible Church.

Do you know that church? If not, you need to go online and look at it. They even have a 360 degree camera view of its interior. You said you were not going to go inside, but you have the option to see the inside on their site, if you guys want to.

Any way...

You're going to love it! It couldn't be any more charming.

Email me your reactions after you take a look at it!

You're going to get married at Friendly Bridge Bible Church, then have your reception dinner at The Weeping Willow.

I am so excited for you!

Now, for the not-so-fun talk:

I know what you're feeling about Angel. And, to put your mind at ease about this, yes, Angel became a Christian just a short time before his "home-going." He even led one of his street friends to Jesus.

It was Reverend Reeves that kept sharing Christ, even when Angel didn't want to hear it. Finally, he gave in and said that he was tired of fighting, and asked Jesus into his heart and life. My understanding is that he turned that little corner of his into a mission field, sharing Jesus with anyone and everyone who would listen.

Apparently he began attending Reverend Reeves' church. He was only there a number of weeks before his death.

Maybe you would like to have a candle somewhere in the church or narthex to honor his life. I know you didn't know him, so it's entirely up to you, Sweetheart. Maybe since you didn't know him, it wouldn't make any sense to you. I guess I was just thinking about the number of people coming to your wedding that did know him, or at least of him.

I won't drive you crazy in this email, but I think starting tomorrow we need to start prioritizing our To-Do List(s). (I don't know if you see the list as ours, or if we each need our own responsibility list.)

I'm anxious to hear what both you and Evan think of the church. It might be a slightly tight squeeze to fit in the number of guests you plan on having, but to have my wedding in a church like that, I'd definitely be willing to cut my list of guests... way down! (You don't need to do any cutting. I'm just saying that it would be worth it.)

KiirstiAan's email reply to me:

Evan and I are together this evening at his parents' house. We came over to watch a video movie and eat snacks, so it's kinda laid back. Evan and I are going to sneak into the study while his mom is getting the snacks ready and check out the church online.

I won't have a chance tonight to get back to you, but we'll connect by either phone or email tomorrow.

Mommy, thank you for all you're doing to make this wedding happen.

I LUV U BUNCHES AND BUNCHES!

P.S. Don't think because Evan and I are taking a break tonight, that you can. I expect to have the start of a new story as soon as possible, as in five minutes ago! Just kidding! But, only kinda kidding.

P.P.S. Oh, I didn't mention this before, but in addition to the movie tonight... I just found out it's a Netflix movie we haven't seen... Evan's folks want to hear the newest story you wrote, "Angel White, Twinkly Bright Nuptials." So, before the movie, we have to read it to them. And, Mom, they're the type that have to thoroughly discuss after hearing each one. (It's really kinda cute. I'm glad they're like that. It makes it more fun.) So, there will probably be thirty minutes or more talking about it, then the movie begins.

'NITE

*****

My email reply to KiirstiAan:

I know you just said you wouldn't be emailing me back tonight, but just in case you happen to check your email tonight when you go home, I am in a quandary about the next story. I'm not sure if it qualifies as a wedding disaster or not. Some might say no, while others would say yes.

Maybe I'll just give you the short version and you can let me know if I should expand and use it, or use the other one I'm considering, that truly was a disaster. (I did leave out some of the hilarious detail, but this will give you the gist of it.)

Pastor Jerry's second oldest daughter just got married. It was just beautiful, but the funniest thing happened during the ceremony. I guess it's a toss-up if it qualifies as a disaster or was just plain funny, I mean really, really funny.

Lyndy had asked the parents of one of the little girls in the church if their daughter could be her flower girl. And, in a church as ginormous as ours with all the kids available, I guess the parents thought it was quite an honor that their daughter was "the chosen one." Of course, they said yes. Lyndy told them that any time she was in the pre-school department during second service and little three-year-old Kelsey was there, she was the "shining star." She wasn't afraid of anyone, wasn't shy, and had no problem with being in front of big crowds. So, she would absolutely be the perfect choice for flower girl.

Pastor Jerry and Ruth purchased the dress for Kelsey. It was magnificent. And, once she was dressed in it, with that blonde, blonde hair hanging down almost to her fanny, she looked beyond beautiful. It had layer after layer of great big ruffles, the last one ending about at her ankles. Wow, was she adorable!

Anyway...

Lyndy was on Pastor Jerry's arm. They had just begun the walk up the aisle. Kelsey was maybe eight or ten steps ahead of them. She was tossing the flowers in the aisle. But, not like any other kid would do.

She would take about three steps, stop, tilt her head to the right, then reach in with her right hand and get some rose buds, toss them into the air and watch them float to the floor, then she'd take a few steps, tilt her head to the left, and use her left hand to toss the next handful of rose buds. Very dramatic! Very, very cute!

Meanwhile, Pastor and Lyndy were walking up the aisle.

About half way up, apparently Lyndy remembered that she had forgotten to take her engagement ring off and place it on her right hand, so that once the wedding ring was placed on her left ring finger during the ceremony, she could simply slip the engagement ring back on the outside of the wedding band, not ever removing the wedding ring again. It's all about tradition, right?!

So, she was trying to do this ring transfer while holding her wedding bouquet, Pastor's arm, and walking up the aisle. Bad news is that she managed to drop both the bouquet and the wedding band.

Kelsey heard the bouquet drop, turned around and flew into action.

She screamed for everyone in the sanctuary to hear, "It's ok. I got it covered!"

She took her basket, held it over her head, and turned it upside down, dumping the entire contents. The whole huge clump of rose petals fell at her feet. I guess she wanted to feel like she'd completed her duties before helping.

But, instead of stepping over them, she ran through them toward Lyndy and Pastor Jerry, slipped, and catching her shoe in the bottom ruffle, she partially ripped out the lowest layer of ruffles, and splatted on the floor. Now, most kids would cry or something, right? Not Kelsey. While lying on the floor and waving her hand, she yelled out, "I'm ok! I'm ok. I'm comin', Lyndy!"

She jumped right up and began running to Lyndy. But, it wasn't until she was picking up the bouquet, that she heard Lyndy whisper to her dad, "I dropped my engagement ring. It's somewhere on the floor."

And with that little bit of knowledge, Kelsey literally dove underneath Lyndy's wedding gown to look for the engagement ring.

She completely disappeared under the skirt of Lyndy's princess ball gown, but you could hear her talking loudly to Lyndy from underneath, "I can't find the ring. Pastor Jerry, move your left foot. Ok, now move your right foot. Nope, not there. Ok, Lyndy, lift up your right foot. I think I feel something ketched on the heel of your shoe. Yep, it's the ring. Take off your shoe and I'll get it off."

Lyndy did as she was told. She stood there, slipped off her shoe, and apparently Kelsey was able to get the ring off. All the while, Canon in D regally accompanied everything that was happening.

By now the entire church was cracking up, including Lyndy and her dad.

But it got even worse.

Having retrieved the engagement ring, Kelsey couldn't figure out how to get out from underneath Lyndy's skirt. She actually stood up, still under the skirt, and began kicking the skirt, trying to find a way out from under it, all the while yelling, "How am I supposed to get out'a here? Where's the opening?"

Lyndy by then was laughing so hard that she was crying and couldn't answer her.

Pastor Jerry let go of Lyndy's arm, and began lifting up his side of Lyndy's skirt. When the skirt was lifted high enough for her to see a means of escape, Kelsey was able to come out from her "cage" and stood in front of Lyndy. She said, "Here ya go. Are ya all right now?" Lyndy, still laughing and crying, nodded yes.

With total pomp and circumstance, Kelsey turned around, faced the front of the church, and began her walk again, throwing imaginary rose petals into the air. When she got to the front, she turned around to the congregation, deep curtsied, and with all seriousness in her words, she said, "Don't worry about my dress. Mom and dad didn't pay for it anyway. Thank you, Ladies and Gentlemen," then took her position in the second pew beside her mother.

By the time Lyndy reached the front with Pastor Jerry, it took her several minutes to stop laughing and for the ceremony to continue. Even after Pastor gave her hand over to Curt, and walked up to the pulpit to officiate, the couple was laughing so hard that Pastor Jerry had the soloist go ahead and do her song early to give them time to collect themselves.

The rest of the ceremony was faultless.

But, after the ceremony was over, Lyndy, Curt, and all the bridal attendants unabashedly laughed all the way back down the aisle as they exited.

Apparently, it was the hit of the evening!

Ok... so I left off a lot of details, but that's basically it.

What do you think... in or out?

L8R

LUV U

KiirstiAan's email reply to me:

Here I go with the numbering. (You've got me so aware now that I do this, but I'm afraid I'll forget things unless I can easily count them off.)

1. _That story about Kelsey is hysterical! I can hardly wait for Evan to call me on my afternoon work break, so I can tell it to him. However, it definitely was not a disaster. At least I wouldn't consider it one. It seems like people would have to have absolutely no sense of humor at all to not see the fun and laughter it would bring. It seemed to have brought levity to an otherwise serious and somber occasion. (You know, Mom, you have always taught me that the Lord has an amazing sense of humor, and frankly, I believe He enjoyed the spontaneity of humor as much as anyone else present at the wedding.)_

I don't think even if you included more detail of a distressing nature, it would qualify as a disaster. I personally think it was just a wonderful example that the Lord loves us so much that He allows some things in our lives for our complete enjoyment. (It's kinda like how Daddy is. Some things he does on purpose just to make all of us laugh. And, they do. It's one of his endearing qualities.)

2. _I don't know that this should get its own numbering, but I just wanted you to know that Evan's mom and dad went crazy over the story about Melissa and James._

Now here's the kicker... Evan's dad has driven by Angel's corner for what seems like forever! It's on his office route, so he drives by there both morning and evening. He said to tell you that weather permitting, he would try to drive at a speed that would coincide with the red stop light, put down the windows on that side and sit and listen to Angel play his violin. He said that he noticed a difference in the music selections he played toward the end before his death. Instead of Broadway show tunes, and 1940s big band music, he almost exclusively played hymns. He said there were a couple of times that he actually shed tears listening to Angel's rendition of "How Great Thou Art." And, when he'd throw Angel some money, Angel had a standard way of thanking him. He'd say, "The Lord make His Countenance shine upon you and give you peace." That's beautiful, huh?!

3. _Angel might not be able to play in our wedding, but Evan and I want to know what you think about having trumpet and violin as our signature instruments at our wedding? It's not that we're against having the organ, but maybe something a little different would suit the bill. Anyway, think about it, 'k?_

4. _I definitely think we should have two lists. One for you, Mommy, and one for me. In fact, maybe it would be a good idea if we each had both, that way there's accountability on both our parts. Is that a good idea? Maybe I'm being selfish. You already have so much to do without having the extra chore of making two responsibility lists. I know you'll come through with your duties, but sometimes I wonder if I'll forget things that are really important that only I can do._

5. _And now, for the biggie..._

Evan and I are going nuts over the church! Friendly Bridge Bible Church. Its name actually fits it. Oh, Mommy, I don't think I can think of enough adjectives that describe it, but I'm gonna give it a shot: charming, vintage, fascinating, serene, "old world", charismatic, compelling, captivating, enchanting, and magnificent! And, if I looked up synonyms, I could probably find others.

Evan and I couldn't stand it. We had to look at the online tour. Oh, wow, I couldn't have dreamed up a church in my imagination that would be more perfectly suited to the look and feel we want at our wedding.

Evan was so funny. While we were "touring," he said that he sort of assumed he'd be wearing a tux for the ceremony, but now he's wondering if something more English-looking might be what's called for. He asked what about morning coats and gray-and-white striped pants for the guys. First, I asked him where he'd even heard of or seen that style worn. He said his family all went to a wedding last spring. It was in the late afternoon in a public garden park and that's what the groomsmen wore. I told him that I thought gray striped pants with morning coats were for actual morning weddings. But, I told him I'd ask you and he says whatever you say is great with him.

I think I've hit my saturation level with this email. I think I've covered just about everything of real importance.

I do plan to call you tomorrow morning. I'm having two dilemmas. One is with the bridesmaids and the other is, well, actually, I guess they're both with the bridesmaids. One is with regard to the bridesmaids themselves and the other has to do with their accessories. (I know Daddy is buying all the girls' dresses, but two of the girls I want to be in the wedding are having serious financial problems, and even though their dress is free to them...)

No, wait. This is going to take a while to explain. I think I'll just wait until tomorrow. I could really use your counsel.

LUV U THIS MUCH... (my arms are open wide as far as I can stretch), plus ten thousand miles! (Remember when you did this with me each night when you put me to bed, and I'd ask you how much you loved me?)

My email to KiirstiAan:

I know you won't get this until you get up in the morning, but it's 3:30 a.m. and I just got a call from your Uncle Bill. Aunt Serena had a stroke during the early evening and they don't know if she's going to make it through the night. He asked if I would come be with him until the actual status is known. (He sounded so pitiful!)

I have already packed and your daddy is taking me to the airport in the next few minutes. The flight leaves at 5:15 a.m., so I'm going to really be cutting it close.

I don't know how long I'll be gone, but I don't want you to panic.

I am taking my wedding planning materials with me and Uncle Bill says I can have full ownership of his laptop while I'm there.

I have completed a portion of another story, but only to the "it's a travesty, a disaster, what will we ever do?" part. ( I haven't even named it yet.) I've attached it to this email. We'll talk later.

Your dad just called me to come on to the car.

Gotta go.

Pray for Uncle Bill and Aunt Serena.

BTW... I love you this much (my arms are stretched to capacity) plus two fishie kisses, four nose kiss pecks, and unlimited numbers of crooked mouth kisses.

Uh-oh... your dad is yelling up the stairs.

Bye!

*****

# Chapter 25

"Victoria," Mona yelled up the stairs, "I need to talk with you about this guest list."

"Mother, give me about fifteen minutes and I'm all yours. Ask Rena to bring you a cup of tea while you wait."

"You said the same thing last night. I had tea and you still weren't down here. It turned out to be thirty-five minutes instead of fifteen."

"Tonight I'll set my alarm clock."

"Don't be ridiculous! Just get down here as quickly as possible. This wedding isn't going to plan itself!"

"Fifteen minutes, Mother. I promise."

*****

"Lord, this is turning into a Broadway production, and my heart is breaking. Neither Trevor nor I want this big huge wedding. Mother is trying to bump up the guest count from three hundred and twenty-five to three hundred and fifty. I've looked at the list. I don't know these people. I think most of them must be from Daddy's firm and Mother's charity work. I counted the guest list a couple of days ago. I only knew forty-three out of the whole list of invited guests. The invitations are already sent. I'm crushed, Jesus. She's saying she's going to have to order at least twenty-five more invitations! She doesn't ask me anything of value, and even when she asks me things of little to no importance and I give my opinions, she goes behind my back and does what she wants.

"And, the church, Lord... it's like a huge mausoleum. Mother said it would comfortably seat four hundred and fifty. I'm afraid she'll try to fill up the whole place.

"Last night Mother told me that I am welcome to add more attendants to my wedding. I've already asked everyone I want, all five of them. She says I'm welcome to have up to fifteen bridesmaids, if I want. I don't want! I've never wanted! I'm scared she'll ask some girls I don't know well (or at all!) to join the bridal attendants group. What do I do then?

"A five-tier cake, two grooms cakes, heavy hors d'oeuvres followed by a five-course dinner? I didn't even get to pick out my own cake. And, I have no idea what the dinner menu includes. She did all of it herself 'just to help me out.'

"And the reception hall in the fifteenth floor penthouse of a hotel. That room is gigantic! And, so impersonal! I told her that I really preferred a small, more intimate place, but she said that was impossible if she was going to be able to fit in all the guest tables, a bride-and-groom table, a wooden dance floor, a harpist, and the fifteen piece orchestra. She said the baby grand piano and orchestra pit alone would 'eat up' a good third of the room.

"The only thing I really do like is my wedding gown. Although I really wanted a straighter skirt, I do love this princess ball gown. Mother doesn't even know that the tulle skirt is detachable, and underneath is a knee-length lace dress. Not that it'll make any difference. She would have a heart attack if I removed the overskirt for the reception. But, knowing this bit of secret information is the only part of this wedding that feels like I've had any control over.

"Jesus, I'm asking you to... I don't even know what I'm asking. I just know that this is not the wedding of my dreams. It's the wedding of Mother's dreams.

"If I could have anything I wanted, I'd have a small group of family and friends, maybe thirty-five people at the most, tucked away in a tiny little chapel. A small assortment of white roses up front, and the only music would be from someone who played a portable type instrument like a violin, a harmonica, a flute, or... I don't know. I'd wear my short knee-length lace dress with a simple tiara on my head, and plain white satin ballet slippers. Trevor could wear anything he's comfortable in, because I love him and would want him to really enjoy this.

"Lord, I've always wanted to share our first married communion together as bride and groom, but Mother nixed that. She said it would be tacky at such a grand wedding. Plus, it might offend guests that aren't Christians.

"We'd have a tiny little two-layer white cake that was simple, very, very simple. Maybe just one dance that Trevor and I would start, but the others would join in toward the end. Then, we'd all dance for a while.

"Jesus, this wedding is not going to be what I want it to be. Everything about it is contrived and pretentious. Lord, please do something. I need a miracle from You in the worst way.

"Lord, in Your Word, John 16:23,24 says, 'Verily, verily, I say unto you, Whatsoever ye shall ask the Father in my name, he will give it you. Hitherto have ye asked nothing in my name: ask, and ye shall receive, that your joy may be full'

If I'm taking this out of context, forgive me. It's just that I'm desperate, and You are the only one who can help me.

"I'm going to leave it in your Hands.

"Help me, Jesus. I have nowhere else to turn."

*****

Victoria quickly swiped away the tears that trailed down her cheeks as she was walking down the stairs. The clock above the fireplace mantel showed that she had made it downstairs in under fifteen minutes, two minutes under to be exact. While the prayer time alone with the Lord had given her some peace, the problems were not solved. She still hated everything about this wedding, other than the knee-length white lace dress minus the tulle overskirt, and the groom-to-be. She could undergo anything to finally be the wife of this amazing man God had given her. She could hardly wait to escape the wedding travesty and disappear with this man. She needed him to hold her in his arms and reassure her that everything would be ok.

She couldn't bear it, however, if her mother began grilling her about why she'd been crying, reminding her that she had nothing to cry about. She was going to have the wedding of the century, after all. With this in mind, she gave one final wipe down each cheek with the back of each hand.

Trying to smile, she sat down next to her mother. Her glance swept to all the fabric swatches, linen samples, flower arrangement pictures, and other items that covered the coffee table and floor. She didn't care enough about all the items to even visually examine them.

Victoria was just preparing to ask her mother what details needed to be discussed just now. But, before her lips could even form the first word, her mother began the "showdown." It was going to be a war of wills, and Victoria knew Mona would win, so why bother to fight it? These were not "hills she was willing to die on."

"Rena, we're going to be here a while, so would you bring us some finger sandwiches, celery and carrots with dip, and some hot tea." Mona demanded this of her housekeeper, with no little amount of condescension. Victoria had always been shocked at the little grace her mother showed the woman who was more responsible for holding this household together than anyone else.

When the food and drink arrived some ten minutes later, Mona simply dismissed Rena with the whisk of her hand. Victoria quickly compensated by telling Rena that no one could make tuna sandwiches as good as hers. She threw in the question to which she already knew the answer. "Rena, what is it you said you put in the tuna salad that makes it so amazing?"

"Curry."

"Oh, that's right. Maybe as a wedding gift to Trevor and me, you would make a small cookbook with the tuna salad recipe, and I guess you already know the other things I love so much! I think that gift I would cherish more than any other gift we'd get. Oh... and could it look exactly like the one you made yourself?"

Mona quietly humphed.

"I'd be honored, Victoria. Enjoy." And with that comment, Rena gratefully vanished from the room.

No time at all passed and Mona was on her overpowering way to making this her own dreamed-of wedding.

"I just wanted you to know you don't need to worry. I've already ordered the additional wedding invitations. I told you twenty-five before, but I decided to go ahead and order fifty. I'll get those out as soon as they're delivered in the next couple of days. You can add any guests you want, but keep it down to about fifteen to twenty. I'll need all the rest for your dad's golf buddies, their families, the town council members. And, somehow I feel like I'm forgetting some others. Better keep yours down to fifteen total.

"And, I know you said you wanted your girls in pale blue. I agreed until I went back to look again at the church sanctuary. Their stained glass windows have an overwhelming amount of smoky blue in them, so I notified the wedding gown vendor to change all the attendants' dresses to deep smoky blue instead of the pale ice blue you chose. While I was at it, I ordered three extra dresses. I thought maybe you should call your Aunt Glendell and ask her if Chauncy, Preanda, and Mendolin would like to be bridesmaids as well.

"What kind of weird names are those, anyway? She must have been drugged up at the hospital when she came up with those. They sound like they belong to pet goats. And, frankly, after getting your Uncle Austin's nose and mouth, maybe the names aren't that far from being right for them."

"Mother! That is really unkind. All three of those girls are so sweet. I like all of them. But, I'm not close to them, and I think it would really be awkward to include them, since I only see them about once every other year."

"Well, if awkwardness is your only complaint about having them, then ask them to arrive a few days early, so you can spend some time with them before the wedding."

Before Victoria could further protest, her mother had already moved on.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you. The church called and said that they are updating and upgrading all the chandeliers in the sanctuary. They gave me the webpage address to go look at the ones going up over the stage. The address is chandelierium.co... I don't know why I'm telling you this. I wrote it down on stationery. There it is on the coffee table to the left of the bridesmaids' dress fabric swatch. When you go online to see them, it's the biggest one for over the pulpit, and the next size down for either side of the big one. They will be hung during the week before your wedding. The minister said they are very large and impressive, just like their sanctuary. Make sure you go online and look. You'll love them!"

"Ok, let's go to the next item on my list. I really like the white roses you chose for the flower arrangements, but I got to thinking about it, and that would probably be a little washed-out. So, I called the florist. He's going to add just a smidgen of blue Volkenfrieden Delphinium. It'll pull the blue out in the stained glass windows and the girl's dresses."

"Mother, I wanted the flower arrangements to be all-white."

"Ok," Mona sighed. "I'll call the florist Monday morning and have him go back to the all-white," she whined.

"Never mind," Victoria quietly acquiesced.

"Never mind? Ok, the blue is back in. Whatever you want. It's your wedding."

If only that were true.

*****

# Chapter 26

The organ was droning some hideous piece of classical music that sounded more like a death dirge than something for the celebration of holy matrimony. Victoria just slightly shook her head and remained planted in her assigned location in the vestibule.

Looking around to locate her father's whereabouts, she saw him all right. Her father would offer his arm to her at the appropriate moment to walk her up the aisle, but right now he was standing far to the side talking to one of his golf cronies. They were discussing something. At first she thought it was probably something important until her father busted out laughing and the other man pursed his lips together in the signal for him to be quiet. She had hoped he would be more engaged in the wedding. But, typical for him, he would probably run to her side at the appointed moment and take on the prototype of the doting father that adored his little girl and couldn't believe she was actually marrying today. When he handed her over to Trevor at the altar, he would no doubt swipe an imaginary tear from his eye, then kiss her cheek with the one and only kiss she had received from him so far this year.

Thank goodness Victoria's mother had already been led into the sanctuary and seated in her "throne of honor." This would at least give Victoria a few moments in which someone wouldn't be instructing her to stand up straight, pull her shoulders back, smile (for heavens' sake!), and remember that she is representing the family.

The ceremony processional continued.

Three ministers were officiating. Three! Victoria caught glances of them when the double doors opened to let in the participants. Reverend Black was the primary. After all, this was his church. Then, there was some other minister. Victoria didn't even remember his name. Apparently he was an associate minister at this church. His duty was to read some sort of love poem that Mona had coerced them into incorporating into the service. And then, there was Pastor Art, Victoria's pastor at the church where she and Trevor met in the Singles class. His responsibility was all prayers offered up in the ceremony. Victoria smiled when she spotted him. Now this was truly a man of God. His prayers would be heard by the Lord and answered as a father would for a beloved child, which he was.

Overkill! It was the only word Victoria could think of as she watched the procession.

Eight bridesmaids, four junior bridesmaids (Victoria didn't know the name of even one of them), three flower girls (each with an assigned color of rose petals), two ring bearers (one of which fell down, began crying, and refused to walk another step until his mother came and snatched him up and walked him out of the church), two lavishly costumed trumpeters (one of which must have had allergies, because he began sneezing halfway through the trumpet duet and had to duck out a side door), and... the highlight... a soloist garbed in an angel costume, that stayed hidden in the choir loft until her turn to sing, at which time a spotlight shone down on her! Victoria did have to admit that her voice was magnificent, but even that was overshadowed by her halo falling off, making a clanging sound as it hit a seat first, then rebounding for a second clang onto the floor.

"It's time! It's time!"

Victoria jumped slightly when the wedding planner repeatedly poked her arm.

"It's time?"

"Yes, the music has been cued. Hear it? It's time. Where's your father?"

Victoria saw him in the same location, talking with the same man. But now, they were both laughing, albeit quietly.

"He's over there talking with that man."

Taking her planning duties very seriously, the woman moved quickly and quietly to Victoria's father, took hold of his arm and pulled him toward Victoria. While they hurriedly walked, she could hear the planner telling him his duties: the walk, the transferring of her hand from his own to the groom's, saying "Her mother and I" when asked who was giving her to be married to this man, and the kiss given to Victoria on the cheek.

How did I miss my entry music cue? I don't know... maybe because I've never heard this piece of music before in my life?! I told Mother how I know that Canon in D may be overdone at weddings, but it is what I've always wanted to hear at my nuptials.

*****

So fast... how could screams turn into turmoil and consume a room so fast?!

She was only half way up the aisle when everyone heard the crack, looked toward the ceiling and saw the crystal chandelier and a generous portion of the ceiling diving down toward the best man, and saw Trevor launch himself under it to push him out of the way.

When the screams subsided, there lay Trevor groaning and writhing as the chandelier lay on top of his leg, holding him immobile to the floor.

The whole scene played out as though it were in slow motion. That's how it seemed to Victoria, as she watched helplessly.

With a scream that spoke of true agony, Victoria broke free from her father and bolted toward her fallen groom.

This was a tragic, tragic disaster... or was it?

*****

# Chapter 27

My email to KiirstiAan:

Hi, Sweet Girl. I got here safely. Your cousin Lizbeth met me at the airport. She said Uncle Bill refused to leave Aunt Serena's side. He has his own bed in her hospital room.

After she dropped me off at the hospital, Lizbeth left to pick up her kids from the babysitter's house, and take them home for homework help, baths, and dinner. She'll leave the kids home with John, come pick me up from the hospital around dinner time, take me to Uncle Bill's house to get the car, where I'll also pick up some of his personal items, and stop for a bite at a fast food drive-through on the way back to the hospital. I don't know if I'm staying the night at the hospital or driving back to Uncle Bill's.

Aunt Serena is non-responsive, unless you loudly say her name. Then, she opens her eyes for just a moment, before closing them again. She has only spoken once in response to Uncle Bill. He was told to talk to her. So, he was telling her that she'd had a stroke. Her reply was, "What makes you think I had a stroke?" He answered her, but she closed her eyes again and hasn't regained consciousness again yet.

I have no idea when I'll be coming home.

I am exhausted! What is it about flying that makes a person so tired? I mean, you just sit there while the plane does all the work. Makes no sense, but I feel like I've run in a marathon.

Knowing you, I'm sure you've already read the first part of the current story. Hold off on talking to me about your first reactions. I think I might be pretty much occupied for the next couple of days.

Don't worry about your wedding plans. As I find any free time (maybe only at bedtime), I'll continue working on details. I've got everything I need with me.

While I'm gone, Sweetie, ask your girls to act as bridesmaids. Make sure they know your dad is paying for their dresses. But, do tell them that they're responsible for their own shoes. (Don't tell them, of course, but you'll give them their necklace as a bridesmaid gift.) And, if I'm not being ridiculous, you might want to take them dress-shopping. Don't be afraid to go without me. You have wonderful taste, and I have complete faith in you. Keep in mind that since your dad is paying, you are the one that needs to be thrilled with the dresses. If you find something you like, go ahead and ask your daddy to go to the shop and pay for them. If you're feeling insecure at all, just email a picture of your "possibilities" on one of the girls. Or, if you decide on your own, just email the picture of that dress. (Alterations are being paid by him as well, in case I forgot earlier to tell you that.)

For right now, that's all I can think of. I'll email you when anything else needs to be discussed or acted on.

I love you, Cutie. Take good care of your daddy while I'm gone. I've already talked with him by phone since I've been gone, but check up on him, especially make sure he's eating, ok? Maybe give him a call and invite him to dinner (his treat, of course).

Love in abundance.

KiirstiAan's email reply to me:

So glad you got there safely. Evan and I prayed together on the phone, plus we each prayed for your safety separately. God is so faithful, isn't He?

I was reading in Proverbs again today. I'm really into the thirty-first chapter, about the virtuous woman. I am more aware of a person's character now more than ever. I think it must be because I want to be the best wife ever to Evan.

Sleep well, Mommy!

*****

KiirstiAan's email to me:

I hope you slept well last night, Mom. Evan and I not only prayed for Uncle Bill and Aunt Serena, but we also prayed that the Lord would re-fuel you during your rest last night and that you'd be ready for whatever today holds. I'm convinced Uncle Bill is leaning heavily on you, so you need strength.

Yes, I read (first to myself, then to Evan) the first half of this current story. I remember when you told me about this wedding. You said you didn't know the couple, but that you were visiting Uncle Marc. The bride's mother is a neighbor of his, right? I think you said she told Uncle Marc and Aunt Lena to bring you and Daddy with them to the wedding. She said something about there being enough food at the reception to feed an army battalion.

The only other thing I remember is that the groom had to go to the hospital and he and his bride never returned to the wedding or reception. In fact, I think you said they were still unmarried when the two of them left for the hospital.

Let's see... You said everyone in the church was shooed outside quickly, and the best man came out just long enough to announce that the bride's family invited you to go on over to the reception location. So, you guys went to the reception. I can't remember anything else.

Oh... I take that back. I do remember your quote. You said, "I heard the crack, but I've never heard a sound so loud and so scary in my life as when that chandelier hit the floor!"

Now that is truly a wedding disaster! Wow, it stopped the wedding, hurt the groom, and required a reception dinner minus the wedding party. Not even married yet! That is so pitiful!

Anyway, I made some spelling corrections, removed two sentences (you had written the same sentence twice in two different paragraphs), changed some awkward wording in a few places, and juxtaposed two paragraphs that flowed better afterward.

JUXTAPOSED (did you notice the big word I used?)... see what you got for the undergrad and Masters' degrees you paid for?! Pretty good deal, huh?!

I won't even ask when we get the next installment. In fact, put it on hold. You have plenty on your plate right now. We can wait until you get home.

I called and asked my bridal attendants... Roxanne, Mary, Connie, and Grace. I had already asked Tricia (who is still planning on doing the cake also). They all said yes. I've already booked an appointment at Andriana's Bridal for this Saturday. (They already know that their dresses will be some shade of blue.) We're all going to lunch, then bridesmaid-dress shopping. I'm so hoping you'll be home by then, but if not, I'll keep an eye out for a mother-of-the-bride dress as well.

Just shoot me an email to let me know how Aunt Serena is doing. Tell them we're praying.

G'night, Mommy!

My email reply to KiirstiAan:

* _Aunt Serena is holding. Uncle Bill stays with her almost all the time at the hospital._

* _Glad to hear about your dress-shopping excursion with your girls. Thank you for keeping me in mind (the mother-of-the-bride dress). If you find something, great. If not, I'll go looking when I get back. Don't stress yourself._

* _I narrowed the wedding invitations down to two styles I thought you'd love._

Go to weddinginvites.com. The two styles are items #449632 and #498355.

I know you'll love both of them. Feel free to go ahead and choose. Email me your choice and I'll order them tomorrow. I'll have them sent home so they'll be ready to start filling out and addressing when I get back.

* _Today Uncle Bill insisted I stay at his house instead of sitting at the hospital. He said he'd call if there are any changes. I'm grateful. I'm just so tired._

* _I called your Aunt Lena to both give she and Uncle Marc an update on Aunt Serena and Uncle Bill and to ask for her help with the details of the rest of Victoria's and Trevor's wedding. She was really sweet to supply me with all the main things I needed. And, the truth is I had to fill in some blanks with what I assume happened. She would have told me, I'm sure, but I neglected to ask. But it's ok for me to do some creative writing on those parts, right?_

I'm going to rest and write some today. Actually, I've already got the story resolution partly done, but needed to fill in some blanks and finish it. Hopefully, I can email the last of this story to you either tonight or tomorrow morning.

Continue to pray. Give your daddy a big hug and kiss for me. He calls me a couple times daily, but I miss him anyway.

LUV U

*****

# Chapter 28

"Let me go!"

"Victoria, you stay put," whispered her father, holding her arm tightly as they stood stationary midway up the wedding aisle.

"Trevor's hurt, and I'm going to him!" she insisted. Wrenching his fingers from her arm, Victoria ran with purpose to the front of the church. By the time she reached the general area of the fallen chandelier and her beloved Trevor, already eight or nine men (all the groomsmen and several others) had circled around him and were desperately trying to lift the chandelier from Trevor's leg.

Because she couldn't get any closer to him than the second of six steps up to the pulpit, she began talking to him in a rather frowned-upon decibel level in this church. She wanted to reassure both him and herself that he was going to be ok.

"Trevor, are you in terrible pain?! Why are you holding your wrist like that?! Has anybody called 911?! How's your leg?! It's ok, Baby, the men almost have the chandelier off your leg. The ambulance will be here in a minute. I'm going to the hospital with you. I love you, Trev!" She knew her rambling was just that... rambling, but she couldn't seem to stop. She now began instructing the men gathered there trying to heave the crystal light fixture off Trevor's knee. "Guys, please hurry! He's really in pain. His knee is bleeding. Pastor Art, is he going to be all right?! Is his leg broken?! Can't you pull any harder?! Guys, hurry, something's wrong with his wrist, too!" Turning to the pews, she called for more men to join the crew. Two or more did run up to the pulpit to assist, although most of the guests were dashing down the aisles to exit the church. Understandably they felt vulnerable and frightened while still inside this building.

Pastor Art, who had been one of the men trying to move this immovable object from Trevor's lower left extremity, stepped aside and allowed three other guests take his place. He walked down to Victoria, put his arm around her, led her back down the two steps and seated her on the front pew.

As he patted her arm, he said, "Victoria, it's going to take them a few minutes to get this light off Trevor's leg. The ambulance has already been called... I hear their siren. They'll be here in a minute. You can ride with him in the ambulance, if they'll let you. If not, I'll drive you to the hospital. But right this minute what you and I do need to do is pray."

Without waiting any longer, Pastor Art began, "Lord, this was something we never expected. And we're scared. But, we know you love Trevor even more than we do..." By this point in his fervent prayer, Victoria's parents, Trevor's parents and grandparents, all the bridal attendants, and any who were still in the church sanctuary joined in around the two of them. It was a small gathering, considering the number of wedding attendees.

Pastor Art never stopped in his prayer. Although not one person in the small prayer group had their eyes closed, they were in total agreement with Pastor Art's petition. They were rotating their glances from Trevor to Victoria to Trevor to Victoria. They wanted to talk to the Lord about this, but they also wanted to emotionally cheer on the men who were still struggling to remove the stubborn chandelier from its landing zone.

"Jesus," the pastor continued, "give strength to the men helping Trevor, bring the ambulance quickly, and give both Trevor and Victoria peace. It's in your name we pray. Amen."

By the "Amen" of that group prayer, the chandelier was off Trevor, and had been deposited (actually it was dropped) by the bearers at another spot on the floor about five feet from Trevor. The sound of shattering crystals was so unexpected, that everyone in the sanctuary, including the men who had just dropped the chandelier, involuntarily took a deep shocked breath combined with an involuntary body jerk.

Thinking that Trevor would sigh with relief, they were stunned when he now began a repeated yelping noise, somewhere between a scream and a groan. Apparently, when the chandelier was on his leg, after breaking the knee it at least kept everything in a static position that was a steady constant pain. Now, with the pressure gone, the pain was pulsating and excruciating.

About five or six yelps later, the EMT workers arrived at Trevor's form and quickly jumped into action. While one was taking his vitals, another was splinting his leg, another was putting a strange balloon-looking contraption around his left wrist, and together they were consoling Trevor, reassuring him that they were going to take him right then to the hospital. One of the EMTs (a woman wearing a wedding ring), turned and saw Victoria sitting with a group of onlookers. She turned to the others and said that she was going to let the bride come in the ambulance with Trevor, which hopefully would keep both of them more calm.

Apparently in horrendous pain, Trevor, who would never even take aspirin for a headache, begged them for something to relieve his pain. While they said they couldn't do that, they reassured him that they would be at the hospital within five minutes, and the attending doctor would give him something almost immediately.

*****

When wheeled into the emergency room, an orderly immediately took charge. Because all of Trevor's vital statistics and injury descriptions were electronically relayed while they were still in transit, there was nothing left for them to do, other than help the orderly transfer Trevor to a hospital gurney, while the female EMT told Victoria and Trevor not to worry, they'd be fixed up and on their way to their honeymoon venue in a very short while. Neither of them clarified to her that they had not yet taken their vows and were not yet married. The honeymoon was the least of their concerns right now.

Thanking the EMTs and telling them goodbye, Victoria looked past them to see three of her bridesmaids, Trevor's parents, and Pastor Art seated together in the waiting room. She waved to them and mouthed that she'd be back out to report on Trevor's condition as soon as she knew something.

While they were walking down the hall to the exam room, Victoria slipped away for just a minute when she saw a restroom avail itself. Once inside, she dis-attached her tulle overskirt, threw the voluminous tulle layers over one arm and ran back out and into the exam room directly across the hall. She sure wished she could get rid of these wedding shoes. As beautiful as they were, she hated these three inch satin strappy heels. Her feet were killing her. If she were outdoors, she'd kick them off immediately and deposit them in the nearest trash can. The joyous fantasy of bare feet filled her mind for exactly three seconds before the reality of their situation re-took its rightful place in her thinking.

Joining Trevor in the exam room, an RN was already working on him. She had already cut away both Trevor's left tuxedo pant leg and his left shirt- and tux sleeves, then placed his left hand in a hanging contraption that gripped each finger and left the hand suspended in mid-air. Having completed these major tasks, the nurse hooked Trevor's right arm up with an IV, which dripped clear fluid into his vein. Obviously it was not pain medication, because he continued moaning. Between what was obviously a broken leg and what appeared to be a broken wrist, Trevor was in horrific pain.

Seeing no visible relief on Trevor's face, she asked the nurse if she could please give him something for the pain. She said one word, "Absolutely!" and disappeared from the room. While she was absent, Victoria patted his left shoulder and repeatedly told Trevor that she loved him and everything would be all right.

Returning to the exam room in under three minutes, the nurse now returned to his right side, inserted a hypodermic filled with serious pain medication into the IV tube. Victoria knew it was potent, because an almost immediate wash of relief came over his face, and he sighed deeply.

"I'm guessing by the smile on your lips, the pain is gone?" Victoria ventured.

"Yeah. Wow! What is that stuff? I'm feeling pretty good."

A grinning nurse answered, "Ask Dr. Baynor. He'll tell you all about it. He'll be here shortly, but first let's get some x-rays taken."

*****

After two long hours in the ER, during which time Trevor's left leg was put in a garish neon blue cast, and his left wrist and hand were securely bound in another cast (also neon blue), a second orderly wheeled Trevor (accompanied by Victoria) out to the waiting room, where they expected to be greeted by wedding attendees. Victoria had only made it out to the area once during their time there, and after handing her tulle overskirt over to Connie for safe-keeping, she gave an accurate report to the gathered family and friends of Trevor's broken leg bone and three breaks in his left wrist, then returned to Trevor's exam room. Now, everyone was gone. Everyone was gone!

"Where'd everybody go?" Victoria threw the question up to the entire room, which was empty, other than one young Latino woman with her baby. Apparently she didn't speak English, because she just shrugged her shoulders and said something in Spanish, which was lost to Trevor and Victoria, both having only studied French in high school and college.

The orderly deposited them in a quiet corner of the room, said goodbye, and then strode out of the room, disappearing through now closed doors.

"Where did everyone go?"

"I have no idea, Trevor. And, this kind of leaves us in an interesting situation.

"Neither of us has our iPhone, no money, no credit cards, no car, and no one to tell us what we do now. We can't go to a hotel and get a room, because we're not married. And, if that weren't enough, the left arm and leg of your tuxedo is gone and you're in a wheelchair. Not to mention the fact that my feet hurt so bad in these shoes that I wish they'd just go completely numb and put me out of my misery."

With gusto, Victoria kicked off her shoes and put her feet up under her on her chair.

"Huh."

"Huh."

Holding up his hand as though he had a long-stemmed champagne flute, and waiting for Victoria to do likewise, Trevor offered Victoria this toast, "Victoria, I love you more today than the day I met you. Yes, I fell in love with you the very moment I saw you peeking in the Singles class door window. You mouthed to me, 'Is this the Singles class?' When I nodded my head yes, you walked in and sat right down beside me. I thought you were the most enchanting woman I had ever seen. But, time has proven you to be so much more. You are my personal gift from God. We have waited a long time for this, our wedding day, and now that this special day has come and gone, I am so blessed to know that we are going to share our life together as husband and wife... well, as soon as we can find a minister to officiate. Here's to you, my very own Un-Wife!"

Victoria giggled at his toast, then added her own, "Trevor, I will love, honor, and obey you all the days of my life. And, I can honestly say I will never forget our wedding day as long as I live. Here's to you, my very own Un-Husband!"

Clinking their pretend glasses, they mimicked taking a sip of a sparkling beverage.

"Victoria and Trevor, will you follow me, please?" It was Dr. Baynor.

He gave no further instructions, so Victoria grabbed the handles of Trevor's wheelchair and they began to follow the doctor to the end of the hall. Turning left, they continued their trek down a second hall, turned right, went about fifteen feet, then halted, following Dr. Baynor's lead. A second doctor joined him in the hall. They exchanged a few words Trevor and Victoria couldn't hear, led the couple down the hall, then veered left to a set of double doors. Each doctor took a door handle and together they grandly swept them open.

And, that's when it happened... the tears began to flow from both Victoria and Trevor... tears that would not stop for another twenty minutes...

*****

In the last two hours all those who loved Trevor and Victoria had created a wedding fantasy that awaited their entrance.

In the center and front of the hospital chapel pulpit, a vase of one dozen all-white roses were perched on a small table that was draped with a white floor-length cloth. On one side of the roses were two communion glasses filled with grape juice. On the other side was a pair of snow white ballet slippers with a small white bow at the toe. Victoria recognized them. They were the shoes Cynthia purchased that day they selected and purchased their bridesmaids dresses. Victoria knew Cynthia bought those shoes for herself to go with a cute black and white halter dress she'd treated herself to. _This was a sacrificial gift from this dear friend_.

Along the middle aisle were long looped strands of white tulle, which were attached to the end of each row chair from the back to the front row chair with a large white ribbon and white-tipped ivy dripping from them. The ivy that was in her mother's backyard garden, and the all-white roses... _O_ _h, mother, you cut your prized white roses just for me, another sacrificial gift_.

All the bridesmaids and groomsmen were already in their proper positions on either side.

Trevor's best man walked solemnly to the back of the chapel and took the wheelchair handles from Victoria. He ceremoniously pushed the groom into his position up front.

Softy, from a lone flute, began the strains of Canon in D. Victoria looked toward the origin of the music to see Cynthia's younger sister, Lauren, soulfully playing, with eyes reverently closed.

A little smiling girl that neither Victoria nor Trevor knew, maybe three years old, long auburn curls resting on her shoulders, and dressed in a soft blue lacy ankle-length dress, walked out alone from the left last row chair, prompted by her mother, and positioned herself in front of the bride, who had now been joined by her father, as he passed to her the long-stemmed white rose he had been holding. He presented his arm for her to grasp, whispering to her that her dress was lovely. _Oh... she forgot she was wearing the short version._ Remembering this made her instinctively reach to her head. Her tiara was still in place, but the long attached lace veil that had swept seven feet on the floor behind her in the church sanctuary was now gone. _She didn't remember taking it off... when had she taken it off_?

Their little "flower girl," minus any flowers, took several steps, then turned, and said to the bride and her father, "C'mon." When they stepped up to her, she took several more steps, turned, and told them again to come on. It took four repetitions for them to arrive to the front.

Once Victoria was standing before Pastor Art, separated from Trevor only by her father, the pastor spoke.

"Before this man and woman are joined in holy matrimony, we will observe 'The Bridal Wedding Shoe Exchange.'" Everyone lightly laughed. Everyone present knew that he was referring to the ballet slippers residing on the communion table.

Victoria's father reached for the slippers, but their little auburn-haired beauty took them right out of his hands and said with authority, "Here, let me do it." Again, there was a chapel-wide wave of laughter.

"Gemme yer foot." Victoria raised her right foot. When the slipper was placed on, it was the left-foot slipper. So, Victoria, wanting to spare the little girl any embarrassment, said, "I'm sorry. I made a mistake. I should have given you my other foot." The little child smiled and responded, "That's ok."

Once the ceremonial "Bridal Wedding Shoe Exchange" was completed, Victoria's father gave her daughter's hand to Trevor. Having responded with his proper "Her mother and I", he moved to his seat beside his wife, but only after placing a chair next to Trevor's wheelchair, and helping Victoria to sit down.

"Dearly Beloved, we are gathered here today to try a second attempt at joining this man and woman in holy matrimony..."

*****

"... I now pronounce you to be husband and wife. Trevor, you finally get to kiss your bride. Don't disappoint us." He didn't!

The flute began playing again, only this time the music was something Victoria didn't recognize. But then, she wouldn't. Lauren had written this piece just weeks ago. It was an original. Soulful and magnificent it was.

Victoria stood and her father moved the chair aside. She then took her position behind Trevor's wheelchair and walked her husband back down the aisle.

Just before exiting the rear doors, Victoria turned back to face the attendees. They were unsure of her reason, but they stood stationary and watched her respectfully.

Victoria knew that this was turning out to be the wedding she had asked the Lord for. Only two things remained to be fulfilled.

First, she counted the attendees in the room. Exactly thirty-five. Her already-existing grin grew even larger.

Second, she turned back around and was handed an invitation. Beautiful! Elegant! White background with gold writing:

Please join us

In the Bridal Suite Sitting Room

Eighth Floor

Of

Hanover's Highland Inn

For

Mr. and Mrs. Trevor Errington's

Wedding Celebration Buffet Dinner, Dance

And

Cutting of the Wedding Cake

As Victoria wheeled Trevor out the doors and began the group exodus from the chapel to the reception celebration at Hanover's Highland Inn across the street, she lifted her heart to the Lord in simple praise.

"Jesus, thank you for my dream wedding, this godly man that is now my husband, and the two-tier white wedding cake that I know is awaiting us across the street. You're amazing!"

# Chapter 29

My email to KiirstiAan:

Hey, Sweetie. Good news!

Aunt Serena is awake and alert. Although she has physical issues as a result of the stroke, the doctor is releasing her in a couple of days.

I am going to stay tonight and tomorrow night, then I'm coming home. Uncle Bill says that she'll have plenty of physical therapy ahead, but nothing I need to stick around for.

I don't know right now exactly what flight or when, but I'll get that information to you as soon as I've booked my return flight. Your dad will pick me up, so you don't need to do anything. I just want you to be in the loop.

I LUV U QT!

KiirstiAan's email reply to me:

I'm so thankful for Uncle Bill and Aunt Serena. Uncle Bill has always adored her and I know he'll take good care of her when she goes home.

I'm glad that you're coming home. I have wedding things I need to get your feedback on and your quick counsel on something.

_I've read (and re-read to Evan) the conclusion of your story. Together we came up with the name of the story,_ Wedding from the Heavenlies _. We, of course, loved it. But, I'll wait to ask some questions we have about it until after you get home._

We'll pray for your return-trip safety.

LUV U BACK

*****

KiirstiAan's email to me:

Mom, I know you're traveling home later today. And, I probably should have waited until you got home for this, but I'm kinda panicked.

The Weeping Willow phoned me yesterday afternoon to say that their floor is under several inches of water from all the rain we've had in the last few days. They're not sure if repairs will be completed in time for my wedding reception.

They've put us on some kind of 'wait list.'

Evan and I have driven over there and it's a mess!

Please pray with us that it will work out ok. The wedding invitations have already arrived and I've gone ahead and addressed more than half of them. (That was supposed to be a surprise for you when you got home. They would have all been done and ready for mailing.)

My email reply to KiirstiAan:

I have absolutely nothing to do until your Uncle Bill gets home later.

You can't keep me hangin'.

What feedback, quick counsel, and what questions about the story ending?

KiirstiAan's reply email to me:

1. _Feedback is on the girl's shoe choice. I've tentatively decided on a shoe, but want your input before sending them back to actually purchase them. I forgot to take a picture, or I'd email it to you._

2. _Quick counsel is on the thing I already told you about... The Weeping Willow flooding dilemma and what to do. Right now there's nothing. So, we'll put that off until you get home._

3. _Actually, the story ending is great, but Evan, his mom, and I are dying to know all the details (who did what to make the chapel wedding and reception happen). You said they only were in the ER for two hours. That's not much time to make so much happen! But I can wait on this until you get home._

That's it.

LUV U MOMMY

My email reply to KiirstiAan:

I immediately began praying that the Lord would take care of the reception venue dilemma. I had even done some online searches for other locations right after praying. But, as per His usual, the Lord was way ahead of us.

I called The Weeping Willow and spoke with the owner. He told me that not only would it be completed about two weeks before your wedding, but that you are going to be ecstatic with the two upgrades that are being added.

Remember the twenty foot wall on the one side of the ballroom that you and I said we'll have to think of something dramatic to do with? He said they're having that wall completely covered in white pin lights. It's going to be put on a three-way switch: solid white lights, sparkling and blinking white lights, and color-changing lights. He said you could have your choice which is set that night. Or, he said, you can even change during the evening (maybe start with solid white, change to blinking when the dancing begins, etc.).

He said a two-foot elevated bridal party table platform is being added. Twenty feet long! I can't remember where he said it's being placed. I just remember thinking that you were going to LUV this!

Now, as for the story...

1. _Victoria's maid of honor, Cynthia is a nurse at the hospital, so she was able to reserve the chapel in minutes._

2. _The tulle runners were brought by one of her bridesmaids (Candace), whose aunt owns a fabric store. She met Candace at the store, opened it and gave her several bolts of it._

3. _The white roses and white-tipped ivy came from Victoria's mom's garden. And, the white communion table covering was from her also. She put the tulle chair runner decorations up herself. I don't know if from a loving heart, or fear it wouldn't be done right if somebody else did it. (Wow! Did that sound caddy? I can't believe I just wrote that. As soon as you read that, conveniently forget it so that you still have a pristine picture of my perfect character. Deal? Deal.)_

4. _Cynthia donated her white ballet slippers and the flute-playing services of her sister. (You already knew this.)_

5. _Lacie (one of her bridesmaids) is a computer whiz. She ran home during those two hours, designed the reception card, printed it out and brought it back to the chapel._

6. _Victoria's collective bridesmaids decided to make the wedding evening special for themselves so they all went in on the bridal suite. They were going to spend the night there celebrating just among themselves after the evening wedding festivities. The suite apparently has a large central entertaining/living room (where the reception ended up being held), with two bedrooms, one on either side. The bridesmaids were going to flip a coin for which two girls shared the bridal bedroom with its king size bed, fully stocked mini fridge, and Jacuzzi bathtub, while the remaining others would have to figure out how to split up who shared the two double beds in the other room. This was an expensive sacrifice on their parts. Oh, I did find out that they had management lock the door to the spare bedroom before the bride and groom arrived. Still not sure why!_

7. _Another bridesmaid went to the Inn during those two hours. (I can't remember which one, but I guess it doesn't matter since you don't know them anyway.) Anywho... She went into the bridal bedroom, sprinkled silk rose petals all over the bed, and placed a boxed romance game there. (Maybe you've heard of the game... An Enchanting Evening.) Then, she went downstairs and got a silver tray, two white linen napkins, and a bottle of sparkling white grape juice (all complimentary from the inn), returned to set them up on a silver tray on the bed, next to the game._

Let's see...

8. _Dr. Baynor had apparently told Trevor that he was released, but that he would need to return to the hospital to return the wheelchair and get a set of crutches before leaving on his honeymoon. Instead, one of the nurses on duty wrapped them together with thick white ribbon and a big bow with streamers hanging from the top. Attached was a one hundred dollar bill and a handwritten note that said, "What are you hanging around here for? Catch that plane and start celebrating! Dr. B" The nurse placed them in the hands of Victoria's father, who ran them across the street and set them against the wall behind the food table, which had been brought up to the suite and decorated by the inn's kitchen staff._

9. _A whole reception meal was provided for the thirty-five. Apparently, Victoria's mother called the cell phones of a number of reception attendees, told them what to bring and where to bring it. They did, then disappeared as quickly._

10. _There was music, but I don't remember who provided it, or how. I only remember there was music, because I was told that Victoria sat on Trevor's lap in his wheelchair and they "danced" around that way._

11. _Pastor Art was the only officiant, as the Lord knew he should be._

Oh, and this, I think, is the best part...

12. _Yes, there was a white two-tiered wedding cake, as per Victoria's wishful prayer. How it got there, and why only two layers were gone from the wedding cake at the reception, nobody knows. (Nobody's talking!) But where it came from was seen by every attendee at the original wedding venue location... a gigantic white and blue wedding cake, minus... the top two layers._

If I've left anything out, I'm sorry, but your Uncle Bill and Aunt Serena just drove up. (I didn't think she was coming home yet.) I want to spend a few minutes of time with them before Lizbeth comes to take me to the airport.

Although I still have fourteen more stories to commit to paper to complete my book, (maybe a fifteenth as well, still trying to decide on one of them)... I need a break!

Did I tell you I am trying to help my adorable daughter plan a wedding? It is going to take some real commitment time and work to get everything done and make it as fabulous as she deserves!

I'm a blessed mom!

Time was made to read one last email from KiirstiAan and responding to it before rushing out the door to catch her plane...

KiirstiAan's email reply to me:

Yay! We're back in The Weeping Willow!

I read something today about you.

I didn't realize that King Solomon and you were such close friends.

"Strength and honour are her clothing; ... She openeth her mouth with wisdom; and in her tongue is the law of kindness. She looketh well to the ways of her household, and eateth not the bread of idleness.

Her children arise up, and call her blessed..." ~ Proverbs 31:25-31.

I LUV U!

My email reply to KiirstiAan:

You adorable girl! I can't imagine any things you could say to me that would give me more joy. I am so grateful for the woman you are, and that you appreciate me just for who I am (warts and all!).

Now...

Hold those loving thoughts until I get home. You think I work hard?! You have no idea all the work you are going to be doing? You aren't going to believe the amount of work that is yet ahead of us (not me... us!).

1. _Reception menu?_

2. _DJ selection?_

3. _Music for wedding?_

4. _Music for reception?_

5. _Videographer?_

6. _Favors for reception guests (purchased or handmade)?_

7. _Photographer?_

8. _Decorations for reception hall?_

9. _Table centerpieces?_

10. _One or two ministers officiating?_

11. _DJ/live band/stringed quartet?_

12. _Vocalist(s) for wedding?_

13. _Gifts for your bridal attendants and flower girl?_

14. _Seating decisions at the reception dinner?_

15. _Registering at stores for wedding gifts?_

16. _Wedding guest book style and size?_

17. _Wedding guest registrar?_

18. _Organist?_

19. _Church wedding planner? (She'll take care of everything we forget.)_

20. _Flowers (church, reception venue, bouquets, boutonnieres, corsages for mothers and grandmother)_

21. _Evan's parents will take care of paying for the rehearsal, but if they're anything like my mother- and father-in-law, they'll tell you to pick the place, menu, etc., and they'll just give you a check to cover it all)_

22. _Car/carriage/limousine from wedding to reception and hotel afterward?_

23. _Decorations for above transportation, and who does the decorating?_

I'll spare you numbers 24 through 39. And I do that for two reasons... First, I don't want to scare you. Second, I left the original list at home, so I've probably forgotten some of the items that are on it. And, third, I haven't had the time here to read through the planning book I brought. (It's un-telling how many items I'll be introduced to when I start reading it again.)

Suffice it to say that if we want your wedding to be free from any of the story disasters I've been writing about, the disasters of the stories I still plan to add, and any other possibilities that we can't even imagine, when I exit that plane, I'm going to have to hit the ground running! (And, don't think I won't grab your hand as I'm sprinting through the airport exit gate!)

Feel free to re-think the whole idea of me being the Proverbs 31 mom (at least the "rise up and call her blessed" part).

I'm going to be your worst nightmare!

KiirstiAan's final email reply to me until I got home:

I love you anyway, Mom!

Oh, and I only have one thing to say in response to your threat...

BIO (Bring it on!)

#  Book II Sampler

### A Catastrophic Wedding Reception... Or Maybe Not?

### -Prologue-

If anyone had told me that it was possible for a mother and daughter to plan a wedding almost entirely by way of email, I would unequivocally have said he or she was stark raving mad. And yet, here we were right smack dab in the middle of doing just that.

We didn't start out with a plan to do so. It just sort of happened. I would ask KiirstiAan if she'd like to meet me at this place or that to investigate something or other, to which she'd almost invariably say, "Mom, I am so sorry, but I have a such-and-such meeting then. How about making it tomorrow instead at the same time?" . My response would be, "I'm so sorry, Sweetie. I can't go then. I have a doctor's appointment (or hair appointment, or dinner at a friend's house, or church meeting) at that time. Ok, tell you what... go online to (whatever).com and see what they have. If you see anything that you like, email with the website address and product item number, and I'll check it out." Every email conversation ran about the same, with small variables. And, over just a few days of this, we found ourselves (never having meant initially to do so) not even bothering to call or meet places. We just emailed back and forth. I think between us, we've researched our wedding needs thus far at maybe thirty-five or forty websites.

Our online wedding planning patterns were quickly set. Amazingly enough, we were almost half way through the three months until KiirstiAan's wedding. And, although there had been some intense moments of frustration or uncertainty, it went quite well. We got a lot accomplished. Although there is still much to do, we're both grateful to say that the church- and reception venues were secured, the officiating pastor selected, bride's and bridal attendants' dresses purchased, and the florist assigned. (Why do I feel like this list of accomplishments should have ended "and a partridge in a pear tree?")

At about week seven of planning, however, I hit a door, or maybe a wall, or perhaps a dead end. Maybe there's a more dramatic way of expressing it. If I could think of it, I'd use it, because I'm nothing if not dramatic. The truth is, though, I was just so tired that I felt like I had to get away for a while. I needed to be released from doing online wedding planning research, comparing online prices on "wedding stuff," emailing KiirstiAan back-and-forth to ask her this-or-that, as it applied to the upcoming wedding. Not to mention (although I will), that I had written seventeen wedding disaster stories (no, sixteen, I forgot I decided not to complete one of them). I realized part way into writing number seventeen that since it had been almost two decades ago that I attended that wedding, I had forgotten so many of the mishap details, and had no way to contact someone that also attended who could refresh my memory. As exhausted as I was, I felt I simply could not make up details that would fill in some pretty large gaps. So, to make sure I didn't re-visit the effort of moving forward with the story, I deleted all traces of it from my computer, then wiped it from my rather frayed, frazzled and fried brain. It was gone. Forever!

Wedding disaster stories? What stories you ask? Oh, I guess I've left out some important information.

We had barely begun our email wedding planning when my dear daughter, KiirstiAan, said that since I had attended, or been an attendant in over thirty weddings, beginning at age ten, and had seen so many weddings go so terribly awry, I should write a book chronicling each disaster. Thinking she would say forget it, I told her that I would, if she would proofread each and every one. But, alas, instead of telling me no, she enthusiastically said yes, yes, yes. That began a whole new job for me, the recalling and writing of sixteen of the most horrendous wedding disasters imaginable, all to which I was an actual observer. I now was both a wedding co-planner and a fumbling new author. Whew! Just thinking about it exhausted me.

As worn out as I was by this point, my sweet and thoughtful husband said that I needed a week away to simply bask in the sun, eat splendiferous foods, and shop 'til I dropped in Charleston, South Carolina. He only made one stipulation, that during that week my laptop was off limits. I could not do anything wedding-related.

Charleston?! My absolute all-time favorite place to be in the whole world. It took me all of three seconds to think over the offer. "Yes. A thousand times yes!" And, by eight a.m. the next morning the luggage and we were out the door, backing out our driveway and headed to the most wonderful city in the world.

I have no idea, looking back, how I managed to clear a whole week. I had two scheduled meetings, three wedding-related appointments, and a dentist appointment all to cancel and re-schedule. Plus, I needed to talk to KiirstiAan long enough to tell her we'd be back in a week, and in the meantime, she should do any things on her to-do list that she felt confident enough to handle herself. And, if she didn't, we'd resume our wedding plans when her dad and I returned. Most of that night before we left was a blur. Amazingly enough, I got everything taken care of, and off we went.

The week was glorious. The sun shone with only a downpour one night that made the next morning just sparkle with freshness. I was a really good girl, too. I never once opened my laptop. I did take it with me, with the intention of simply checking my general email daily. But, my adorable husband paid so much attention to me, pampering me outlandishly with presents from some of my favorite stores, taking me on old historic house- and plantation tours, lavishing me with horse-drawn carriage- and tandem bicycle rides, ending each day with either dinner at some old favorite restaurant or dinner brought into our room, that I decided he deserved my undivided attention. Wow! It was like a romantic honeymoon! Vive l'amore!

Upon returning home (and to the reality of continuing the wedding planning for KiirstiAan), I was invigorated and ready for whatever challenges those last seven weeks before her wedding brought. Little did I know that an email awaited me that would just knock the wind right out of me.

### -Chapter 1-

KiirstiAan's email to me:

Mom,

I need desperately to get in touch with you, but you never told me where you and Daddy went! Things are going terribly, terribly wrong and I don't feel like I can make decisions without your counsel!

I know my numbering drives you a little crazy, but it keeps me centered while on-task, so here goes:

1. _The Weeping Willow has put us back on a wait list. Apparently when they were working on the flooding repairs and upgrades, they hit an electric line and now have no electricity. The manager says while she's glad to keep us on the list in case things are taken care of in time for my wedding, she feels like it's unlikely. She needs us to call her immediately! You already have her number._

2. _Two of my bridesmaids can't be in the wedding after all. The dresses are already paid for. Too late to get a refund (I've already asked them). Connie can't come because her sister is having surgery (ACDF) and can't drive or hold the babies for six weeks afterwards. So, she's going to spend the first week there after surgery, taking care of things for her. Grace isn't coming because her family is getting together for two weeks during that time for a family reunion, which she had promised them months ago that she would attend once they decided on dates and location. What do I do now?_

3. _I got a call from Delane (BridalExtrava-Gown.com) saying that she shipped my gown back to me when the painting on it was completed, but neither she nor I can find out where it is. I've tracked it at least twenty-five times. Each time it stops recording anything once it reached the UPS location in Nashville. Delane and I both have called the Nashville phone number, but they say they have no record of it. We've both called the location before there, and they say it was on board the truck, according to the manifest. I have no idea what to do at this point!_

4. _And, if all the above isn't enough, I took my Victorian boots to work yesterday. One of my co-workers wanted to see them. I told her I'd show them to her while we were eating lunch. We were walking down the street to eat at the café. I tripped over an empty cigarette pack on the sidewalk (who would litter like that?) and dropped the shoe box in the gutter. Between the sewer water and whatever filth was floating in it, they have light brown stains on them. I took them immediately after work to the shoe repair place on Brighton Avenue. They said they didn't do that kind of cleaning. They suggested I take them to the dry cleaner over on Layne Street. They have them right now, but left me a message before I ever got home, saying it looked very unlikely that they would be able to get the stains out. I'm supposed to pick them up from them on my way to work in the morning. The lady said either the stains would be completely out, or they couldn't do anything. I am panicked, to say the least!_

Mommy, hurry up and get home! I need you!

My email reply to KiirstiAan:

Y _our dad and I just got home less than an hour ago. We're both exhausted! We love Charleston, but that five hour drive is a killer!_

I can't believe you have been going through this alone! But, I'm too mentally worn out to do anything about it tonight. Let's see... it's 6:45 p.m. That's too late to call anyone, or do anything of an investigative nature. We're going to unpack, eat a quick bite, then turn in for the night.

Let us get some much needed rest and I'll get right on it tomorrow morning. In the meantime, between now and when I talk with you again (or email you), do any things that are on your list that you can do. If there's nothing, then just spend the time praying that the Lord will take care of some of these things over which we have no control.

Oh, yeah... between now and tomorrow, go through your mind and decide on a couple of replacement bridesmaids. I guess that means that you need to start a brainstorming list of girls to fill Connie's and Grace's places. If you have trouble, think of girls at work, in your apartment building, in your Sunday school class, or any female relatives of Evan's. (What about that girl, Marta, Marcia, Martha... I can't remember?) You said you met her at the café close to your work. She's the one you said you thought you recognized when you met her there, but couldn't remember from where. It turned out she is one of Evan's parents' neighbors, and you see her outside in her parents' front yard almost every time you and Evan go to his folks' house.

G'night, Sweet Stuff.

Don't worry. Life as we know it (and your wedding) will still go on!

Pray! He can work unbelievable miracles out of our blackest moments!

*****

My email to KiirstiAan:

It's 9 a.m., up, and already on it!

I called The Weeping Willow at 8:30 a.m. this morning. I spoke directly with the owner (not the manager). I told him what the manager told you. He said you are NOT on any wait list. He is the one working with the contractor and work crews, not her. He said that the information that she gave you was because of what the work crews told her. It was NOT what the contractor said.

_In fact, in the contract he has, there is a pretty stiff non-completion penalty, if not finished by two Wednesdays before your wedding. (He said there's no way they'd give up that much money.) I asked him not to get in his manager's face about this. She was just concerned and thought you should be advised so that you could start making other arrangements. He said to call him and set up an appointment to meet_ him _there, if you would like to see the progress made already and he'd go over exactly what must be done weekly to stay within the contract. I told him I'd give you his number and you could decide what you want to do._

_Plus, he was so upset that_ you _were upset that he told me to relay to you that even if the work was not completed on time, he would transfer your whole venue to The Gala Experience downtown (at his cost). Have you seen that place?! Gorgeous and expensive!_

Really gorgeous and really, really expensive!!! (I actually looked at this place. It was not to be believed, but was so far outside our wedding budget that we gave up that idea immediately.) Are you ready for this? I was really pushy. I had him pull out your contract and add what he just told me. He did it and we both signed and dated it. You're covered either way!

Of course, I can't do much about the bridesmaids' situation. Keep me posted on how that goes.

Hey, what about your dorm room buddy that was down the hall from you? She's even local, right? Didn't you tell me she had accepted a position with a company here? (I think you said for two reasons: one is that her soon-to-be fiancé lives here, and two, she can't bear the thought of moving back up north with all the snow, when it's so beautiful here all year 'round.)

Has Delane or you heard anymore about your gown? Have either of you talked with anyone about it again? (This may or may not help, but I had a package go rogue one time also. But, I eventually got it. Turns out it was accidentally shipped to Canada somewhere, then it was re-routed and finally got to me.) Don't despair, just keep praying.

Ok, listen carefully. About the Victorian boots. I am sorry that they were stained, truly I am. But, they're "things," Sweetie. Just "things." If the dry cleaner can figure out what to do, great. If no solution is found, we'll simply get you a replacement pair. Your dad and I don't want you stressing over unnecessary stuff. Your dad told me last night that this time should create the most precious memories of your life thus far (only better was when you were born into God's Family).

_Hey, this shoe-thing actually happened to one of_ my _bridesmaids. She didn't drop them, they were food-stained. She bought a second pair, then had the stained pair dyed black. You could always do the same._

Now that I've updated you on the concerns I could take care of, I'm going to have a cup of coffee, a bite of breakfast, then I'm going to pull out our to-do lists and plot out the best course of action for today.

I'll talk with you later, Cutie.

DWBH (You'll have to look this one up yourself!)

KiirstiAan's email reply to me:

Good morning, Mom. DWBH. I had to look it up in an online texting language site. "Don't worry, be happy!" I'm trying.

Thank you so much for getting back to me so quickly today. I'm not feeling so much stress now that I know you're home and are working your wedding planning magic.

I am sooo relieved about The Weeping Willow. Evan and I both just love that place and it would just break our hearts if we couldn't celebrate our reception there. I've also seen The Gala Experience. Well, what's there to say? Gorgeous, gorgeous-er, and gorgeous- est! At this point, come what may. I'm covered either way! (Hey, that rhymed!)

Hey, guess what? I got a call from the dry cleaner this morning and they said they were able to get out all the stains, and they look as good as new, which is good since they are new. They said the cleaning solution they used, though, is so slow to dry that I have to wait until tomorrow to pick them up. I think they're really trying to do a thorough job. The woman I spoke with said they want to keep an eye on the shoes and make sure none of the stains works its way back to the surface. I told her yeah, that made sense, but frankly, why do they need to keep an eye on them? Either the stains are out or not, fully dry or not, right?

Well... What would I know? I'm just so glad that burden has been lifted.

I'm starting to feel less stressed over things. In fact, I'm feeling pretty good about how things are going. So much so that I want to ask you a favor.

_Evan and I were talking (always a good sign, huh?). We're feeling like since we've read all your wedding disaster stories and there are still six weeks until our wedding, maybe you should start writing some wedding_ reception _disaster stories. I began telling Evan about that reception you and Dad were at where the car came crashing through the reception hall. Except I think I left stuff out. It didn't sound the same as when you told it to me._

What do ya say? Will you write us some stories about wedding receptions that were absolutely catastrophic? Please, please, p-l-e-a-s-e???

I LUV U MOMMY!

My email reply to KiirstiAan:

Oh, I'm so glad about your Victorian boots! I would have been really sad if that hadn't worked out. I guess we would have had to look some other places for them, but I'm sure we would have had to pay full retail for them. I guess this calls for two things... "Whew!"

And a great big "Thank you, Jesus!"

Now, as to the wedding reception stories... Sweetie, we're going to start feeling a real crunch as we begin trying to finish up all the remaining details of your wedding and reception. (You don't want your wedding and reception to be disastrous, do ya?) I just don't think I can give up that kind of time. I'm so sorry.

*****

### -Chapter 2-

KiirstiAan's email to me:

Mommy, pleeeeeaaaase?!

Evan and I have gotten so used to having our wedding disaster story time on Monday evenings. How about if I play on your sympathy and tell you that it's been like a special wedding gift to us from you. Every Monday evening we order take out and either go to the park, or go to Evan's parents' house and have an Eat-n-Read. It's making our engagement and wedding planning so much more fun.

Pretty please with sugar on top?

My email reply to KiirstiAan:

I'm sorry, Sweetie, but the answer is still no. You know that your daddy and I would do almost anything for you to make this time a wonderful memory for you, but this is something I just can't do.

Moving on, I will be sending you several reception menu possibilities this afternoon or evening. I'm meeting with the manager at The Weeping Willow later today. We're going to run over the decorations they provide (linen color choices, buffet set up, wedding cake location, number of tables and where they can be set up, etc.) and she's going to go over all the buffet menu possibilities. I asked her if you two were supposed to come to do a tasting, but she said that only applies to a wedding cake, not the dinner menu. (You know, now that I think about it, I don't remember if I told you that The Weeping Willow said that since they are also a full-service caterer, even if their venue was not finished on time and we had to go to The Gala Experience, they would still do all the catering. I'm starting to feel like royalty!)

You haven't said whether you and Evan are getting together this evening, but even if you don't, please discuss the menu choices with him as soon as possible. I have only three days until I feel like I need to have that finalized. She said that we could email or fax that information to her no later than this Friday, but I really want to have moved on to other things by then.

Again, Cutie, I am so sorry about the wedding reception storytelling thing, but you're going to find out that our wedding planning schedules are going to get pretty frantic from here on in. Maybe sometime after your wedding I can resume writing for you guys.

LUV U

*****

My email to KiirstiAan:

I was planning to get this info to you earlier today, but it just didn't happen. I spent the whole afternoon going through the menus and deciding on your dinner possibilities. Now comes the time for you and Evan to take over. (I guess you two will have to do the decision-making tomorrow sometime.) I'm so sorry that it took me this long! But, who knew their menu was so extensive?!

I started to FAX this to you. I had actually dialed the area code and four digits before I realized I was calling your cell phone. When my poor brain registered what I was doing and that you don't have a FAX machine, I hung up, of course, but spent probably two or three minutes having an out-loud conversation with myself about how I'm losin' it.

I am so excited about your menu possibilities. I'm glad you and Evan have to make the choices here, because if it were me, I'd want everything!

While guests are arriving from the wedding venue, we'll serve appetizers. The servers will float around the area with silver trays filled with an assortment of your choices.

Appetizers/Finger Foods (pick 3):

* _Gourmet Mini Sirloin Burgers_

* _Mini Brioche French Toast Square topped with Caramelized Apples and Orange-Vanilla Scented Mascarpone_

* _Jamaican Jerk Chicken Skewers with a Cucumber-Cilantro Dipping Sauce_

* _Arugula and Prosciutto Wrapped Shrimp_

* _Assorted Flavors of Petite Mini Quiche_

* _Lobster and Tomato Gazpacho "Shots" - Served in Shot Glasses (non-alcoholic)_

* _Carolina Pulled Pork on Mini Corn Bread Griddle Cakes_

Did your dad or I ever tell you about the wedding reception we went to, where they actually served the Pulled Pork dealies above. One of the guests found a bloody bandage in his, and one of the teenagers present had the tip of a finger in hers. Between her shriek and the sound of the dropped china plate as it shattered on the floor... well, let's just say it livened things up that evening. (Wait a minute... I'm getting side-tracked.)

Ok, from here on in, you are making choices for the actual sit-down meal. I did the initial narrowing down of items, so you don't have to worry whether they'll go together or not. I actually counted up the salad choices and there were 23. I didn't want you two to become overwhelmed, so I cut it down to the most un-exotic ones, because I know Evan is a meat and potatoes kind of man. Just choose what sounds good to you both.

Salads (pick 1):

* _Panzanella Salad Made with Croutons, Cucumber, Tomato, Arugula and Shaved Parmigian Cheese with a Lemon-Olive Oil Vinaigrette (never have seen Parmesan spelled this way before)_

* _Tuscan White Bean and Arugula Salad with Organic Tomatoes and Basil Vinaigrette_

* _Baby Spinach Salad with Crispy Bacon, Toasted Almonds and Warm Mushroom Vinaigrette_

* _Organic Garden Salad with Choice of Dressings_

Main Course (pick 1):

* _Herbed Atlantic Salmon Filets_

* _Chicken Breasts with a Dijon, Caper and White Wine Sauce_

* _Medallions of Filet Mignon with a Sauce of Wild Mushrooms and Cabernet_

* _Tuscan Style Slow Cooked Sirloin with Roasted Tomato, Garlic, Capers and Herbs_

* _Alaskan Halibut with a Pancetta-Hazelnut Crust_

* _Risotto with Rock Shrimp, Saffron, Basil, Sun-Dried Tomato and Romano Cheese_

Side Dishes (pick 2):

* _Roasted Baby Red Potatoes with Rosemary_

* _Classic Potato Gratin with Melted Cheese and Herbs_

* _Sauteed Vegetable Melange with Lemon and Garlic_

* _Grilled and Sliced Portobello Mushrooms with Fresh Oregano_

* _Caramelized Baby Carrots with Orange Zest_

I hope this whole thing isn't throwing you two into a frantic anxiety attack. As I said above, I have poured over all the choices and only picked things that weren't weird, and that would completely go together. So don't get all frantic!

I have a multitude of other assignments for you, but I think this is enough for now.

Have fun figuring out what you want. And just in case you're thinking of doing so, do not under any circumstances ask me to break any ties between you two. You will pick your own food, got it?!

Oh... while I'm thinking about it. At the meeting with the manager (her name's Barbara, by the way), the following was decided:

* _All-white linens (tablecloths, napkins, runners). The tables were already set with linens, silverware, and centerpieces. Everything was white, except the tablecloths, which were chocolate. I asked if I could have the tables set_ exactly _the same for your reception. She asked me if I wanted the light chocolate tablecloths. I said very sarcastically, "Oh, yes. I definitely want 'brown' tablecloths at my daughter's wedding!" She just smiled. I think it will be worth every extra penny to have the layout and centerpieces already done. (I loved the crystal vases and white flowers with white-tipped ivy.) I did ask if it would be ok if I brought some pink and blue flowers? I thought I could poke them in the arrangements if the all-white seemed too pale. She said yes._

* _You and all your attendants were supposed to sit at the head table, but when I asked how all the spouses and dates would fit up there too, she said the significant others would be seated at a couple of tables together in the front part of the room close to the head table. When I suggested that that may take some of the enjoyment out of the evening for the attendants, she asked what I saw as a solution. I told her that you two, Evan's parents, your dad and I, the maid of honor plus one, the best man plus one were probably enough. All the remaining attendants (bride's and groom's) and their spouses or dates could be seated at two of the regular tables, which would be reserved just for them. She agreed._

* _White lights on 20-foot wall will be solid white, then change to twinkling during dancing. (I wish I could have seen what this looked like, but nothing's electrically wired yet.)_

* _There will be four uniformed (tuxed) servers._

* _The entry hall will be set up with a long table for gifts, a picture of you in your regalia at one end, and a picture of you and Evan during your engagement at the other end. The picture of you both will have a ginormous matting, on which your guests can sign and write their well-wishes Oh my goodness! I just realized you haven't had your wedding portrait done yet._

I thought Maynor's Portraits did an incredible picture for your engagement announcement in the newspaper. Could you just call them again tomorrow morning and set up this appointment. (Actually, this is on your to-do list, not mine, Sweetie. So, if you've already made an appointment... great! If not, this is just a gentle reminder for you to call and take care of it. I'll go with you to this one, 'k? I figure you'll want me there to help you into your gown and headpiece. Don't forget your Victorian boots.)

What's the latest on your gown? Have they found out where it is? Do you have it already? No, you would have told me. I'm still praying about that. You haven't said anything more, so you must know what's going on. Tell me! Tell me!

My brain is fried. I've got to go to bed. Your dad fell asleep in front of the tv earlier, so I sent him on ahead. Gonna join him.

IAT

::poof::

Post-poof: The length of my emails is getting out of hand. I just re-read this one. Somehow I thought I'd left something out. I hadn't.

KiirstiAan's email reply to me:

Wait a minute... What reception did you go to that a finger was found in the pulled pork thingies??? You can't just bring up something like this and not tell me about it! I expect the full story... and I mean immediately, young lady! (Am I allowed to call you "young lady?")

Mommy, Evan and I need reception catastrophe stories. Monday evenings are supposed to be storytelling night. This would be a good one to start with. Even Evan's parents mention how much they miss the stories when we talk with them.

Is there anything I can do to get you to resume the stories????

My mommy is the best story teller in the whole world!!!

XOXO

My email reply to KiirstiAan:

_Yes, there is something you can do to get me to continue writing about the catastrophic wedding receptions... Hurry up and get married so that your pitiful mother has the free time to do some writing._ _(I can't believe you've read sixteen disaster stories already, and that wasn't enough!)_

_BTW... I hope you weren't disappointed when you read my email, that there aren't any_ _dessert choices to make._

KiirstiAan's email reply to me:

I am disappointed. Why no dessert choices, Mommy?

My email reply to KiirstiAan:

You're kidding, right?! Your wedding cake is the dessert!

KiirstiAan's email reply to me:

Gotcha!

(I've decided that I'm going to give you nothing but grief until you start writing about the wedding reception catastrophes.)

My email reply to KiirstiAan:

Hey, give it your best shot! The answer is still no, you wretched child! Shame on you for giving grief to your poor mother! "And, after all I've done for you!" (Isn't that the line parents are supposed to batter their kids with for the rest of their lives?)

_Hey,_ _I was crawling into bed when I realized I hadn't told you what happened today. So, here I am yet again at the keyboard. It's gotten so late that I suspect you won't even read this until morning, but I've just got to tell you._

Late this afternoon while I was working on your menu, there was a knock at the front door. When I answered it, it was Mr. and Mrs. Layton (they're the parents of the Laytons' four doors up.) I'm gonna take a stab at them being in their late eighties, maybe even in their nineties, considering Bob is sixty-four.

When I asked them to come in, they said they couldn't, that they were overdue for their afternoon nap. They told me they just wanted to bring your wedding gift over. They said thank you for the wedding invitation. They thought it was so thoughtful that you included them even though they were only visiting their son and his family, but that they would be ending their vacation a couple days before your wedding and flying home. I thanked them, told them I was sorry they couldn't attend the wedding, and they left.

After they were gone was the first time I really looked at the gift. I just stood there and laughed. The present was wrapped in Baby Shower wrapping with a bow that secured a decorative rattle on the top. The label was addressed to KristenDawn and Kevin. It was an oversized homemade card with all sorts of baby paraphernalia items hand drawn on it. Inside was written their heartfelt wishes that you (KristenDawn) and Evan (Kevin) would have a joyful wedding, and that even under the circumstances of little Elizabeth's conception (apparently your upcoming or already born baby), you would consider her to be a gift from God, and that you three would choose to make Christ the center of your home.

I had barely completed reading the card when Joyce called. She said that Bob and she were so sorry, but that during Bob's parents' visit, they had been invited to a baby shower and your wedding. They aren't able to go to either because they're leaving early to fly home, but wanted to get each couple a gift. She said Bob's parents were fighting hard to keep their independence, but she thinks they're losing the battle. Apparently they got the couples mixed up. She told me that I will get a kick out of the card on the real gift. She said she's not even sure each gift is the right one. So, since Bob's parents asked her to deliver the baby shower gift for them, she'll just come collect the gift I was given, take it home with her, open both gifts, re-wrap them, put appropriate cards on them, and give yours back to us. She said the one thing she is truly grateful for is that Bob's folks couldn't come to the wedding. At least now there would be no uncomfortableness for the bride and groom when the baby gift appeared on the wedding gift table. Poor old couple! Just trying to be sweet and generous.

Ok, now I really am going to bed, if I can keep my eyes open long enough to find our bedroom.

Nite!

*****

### -Chapter 3-

KiirstiAan's email to me:

" _Happy, happy, happy birthday... Happy, happy, happy birthday!_

Happy, happy, happy birthday... To you, to you, to you... Ole!" (Isn't that the thingie the staff comes out and sings to you at Monterey Restaurant?)

Anywho... Happy birthday, Mommy!

We had so much fun having your birthday dinner together last night. Evan and I were planning on paying for it. We couldn't believe when Daddy stepped up and said it was his gift to you. Kewl! And, was that food unbelievable, or what? "Kevin" (what that old couple who gave us the baby shower gift called him) and I just love that restaurant, but can only afford to eat there about once a year. Yay! Now we'll be able to go there once more this year, without feeling guilty or anything!

Did you get your Nook e-reader account set up last night? Evan and I didn't know if we should show you how to set it up, or if we should assume you're the intelligent people you are and would figure it out yourselves. (Hmmm... We probably should have done it for you! Just kidding!) We're so glad you like it! We love ours, and are hoping you love yours.

If you'll remember, Evan and I said there's a second gift for you, but you have to find it yourself. Do you have it yet? Nope, you don't get any hints!

So...have you found any good freebies to download in Christian Fiction?

Can't spend too much more time on here right now. But, I had a couple of things to tell you.

1. _Marsha is going to take Grace's place. She wears the same size, so it works out perfectly. (Thanks so much for the suggestion.) And, I asked Lydia (the MK that I was really close friends with during our senior year in high school, while her parents were here on furlough). She's come back here after college. She is spending her summer here raising her support monies, then will return to Zimbabwe, where she'll join her parents in ministry. I think they are in "tentmaker" status there, or church-planting. Don't know for sure. When I told her Daddy and you were paying for the dress, she said she would love to do it! (She is a little smaller than Connie, so a slight alteration is needed, but just very little. I am so relieved to have that taken care of.)_

2. _When I picked up my Victorian boots, I was freaked out that maybe when they thoroughly dried, they'd have returned stains, but when I took them out of the box this morning, they were just perfect. (If you didn't know I'd dropped them in the sewer, you wouldn't even suspect it.)_

3. _I talked with Delane last night. She said UPS got in touch with her and told her that my gown was shipped to the exact same street address in Victoria, Canada. When the recipients notified UPS that it didn't belong to them, the package was picked up and has now been re-routed to me. (Didn't you say that you had a package that also went to Canada by mistake? What's up with that?!) I guess I can't get mad, though. I should have it in a couple of days. I can't wait to see it. Delane emailed me a picture of it when she completed it. You are just going to go crazy! It's not anything you would expect._

Guess that's all for now. Stuff to do.

*****

My email reply to KiirstiAan:

I cannot believe this!!! You two are sooo sweet (not to mention sneaky!) I'm so excited, I can't stand it! This is unbelievable! I never ever would have guessed my second birthday gift! Never ever in this lifetime would I ever have guessed! Never, ever! This just doesn't happen to regular people! Oh, boy! Oh, boy! Wow! Wowzers! This makes up for the trauma caused me at six years old when I found out that there really wasn't a Santa Claus!

Last night your dad and I set up my Barnes and Noble account for my Nook e-reader. It was pretty fast-going, and of course, I immediately began searching Christian Fiction, like you suggested. I noticed that the books are in alphabetical order. I must have spent two hours going through and downloading all the freebies I could find throughout the entire alphabet. There are quite a few that look really, really good. I've got enough ebooks downloaded to read for probably years to come.

When I got all the way down to the w's , I saw a title that really caught my eye, "Wedding Chronicles." It had a very professional cover of an old, old, well-worn leather journal, quill pen, and ink bottle, with a couple of soft washed out brides and grooms hovering over and around it. The couples were dressed differently. One couple looked like they lived at the turn of the century in the days of Queen Victoria, all fluff and frills on both the bride and groom. The other couple was dressed like the nineteen-forties. The bride had on a flapper style gown, with lace and fringe. It ended just above the shoes, which were Victorian boots with squishy heels. The groom was wearing...

Wait! I'm telling you this like you two don't already know!

Of course I immediately opened the page to read the synopsis, and to read the four reviews, all of which were five stars. I read the reviews before even reading what the story line was. My two favorite reviews were these:

" _I have never heard of any wedding disasters that were so unbelievable and made the weddings themselves sound hopeless. I broke down crying so many times while reading, thinking, 'That poor, pitiful couple. What horrible things to happen on their wedding day.' And, even though I knew it was all fiction, it seemed so real that I just grieved for the imaginary brides and grooms. Kudos to this amazing author! All I can say is that if you stop writing, it will be one of the most tragic happenings in the literary world!"_

" _... How in the world did this author come up with these stories??? The stories themselves were amazing, but the way they were told is just stunning! I will be very disappointed if this author doesn't come up with another novel... soon!"_

_When I went back to the synopsis, almost immediately I started recognizing some of the story line ideas from the ones I'd written for you two. When I opened it up and began reading, I almost had a heart attack! There in black and white were_ my _stories. I can't tell you how long I sat there and tried to sort through my very, very confused thoughts. I couldn't seem to reason out that they were my stories. I would have reasoned it through much more quickly, except that there was the prologue. In it, the author wrote in first person, how she had traveled throughout the United States with her husband on an RV excursion. Whatever RV campground they stayed at each night, she would get to know at least one couple, prompting them to either tell about a wedding disaster they'd seen or one they'd experienced in their own wedding. I got pulled in hook, line, and sinker for a few moments, until, of course, I began reading word-for-word the stories I emailed you. And, the piece de resistance was looking back at the ebook cover and seeing my very own name as the author._

I am blown away! Which one of you wrote the little in-between goodies (the little dialogues between the storyteller and the couples she interviewed)? KiirstiAan, I could picture you doing that. Am I right? And, knowing how computer- and tech savvy Evan is, he is probably the one that did everything else.

Guys, three things:

First, I can't think of any gift better in the whole world than to give your mother the gift of authorship. Reading my name as the author on the ebook cover just started a torrent of tears that I couldn't stop for probably thirty minutes or more.

Second, I want to hear in minute detail everything you two did to pull this off in the week your dad and I were gone to Charleston.

And third, Yes, I will begin tonight writing the wedding reception catastrophes. I think I'll start with the one where the finger was in the Pulled Pork. I think I'll call it, 'Finger-Foods Wedding Reception.' I'll write the stories as they happened, but I may embellish them somewhat. Maybe! Or, maybe not! You'll just have to wait and see.

No... I've just changed my mind. I'm going to write the one about the car that crashed through the reception wall, running into- and trashing the cake and part of the buffet. I can remember the details of that one better, so I guess I'm just working myself into writing again with the easiest one. Besides, since the groom's mom is a close church friend, I can call her in the morning if I have some details I forget. Or, I guess I could just fill in with what seems like must have happened.

Hey, before I start... KiirstiAan, you need to be going through your personal to-do list. Complete everything you can do without me. You have your wedding credit card your dad gave you, so make whatever purchases you need to. As soon as you read the story tomorrow morning (I'm only going as far as the point where the catastrophe happened, the car crashing through the wall), we need to show some accountability to each other. Ya know... what you've gotten done from your list, what I've gotten done from mine. And, to add anything either of us think of to the appropriate list.

Ready or not, by tomorrow morning, you'll be reading this first one! I don't think I'll be sleeping much tonight!

P.S. Thank you for one of the most amazing and cherished birthday gifts I think I've ever received!

You two rock! 'Nite

IHTTMWKITWW

(It's my own texting for "I have the two most wonderful kids in the whole world!")

XO times infinity!

_Oh... I just thought of a title for it... wait for it... drum roll... (I'm out, can't think of anything to put after this last "..."),_ The Wedding Reception Crasher. _Get it?_ The Wedding Reception Crasher? _Oh, quit rolling your eyes at me. I know you are! Just go to bed, I've got writing to do!_

*****

### -Chapter 4-

Daisi was known for being a little crazy (in a good, fun way). She consequently picked up early the moniker "Crazy Daisi." She had a perpetual toothy smile on her face, unless things were going badly, in which case she wore a smaller, closed mouth smile. If you asked _anyone_ that knew her, they would be hard pressed to remember a single time they saw her that she _wasn't_ smiling. If that weren't enough to make her stand out positively in people's minds, she was fun... creative and fun! There wasn't one college get-together that Daisi didn't sit in on the planning committee. Not once since she came to the college class two years ago. If she wasn't available, the planning would be discontinued until she _was_.

Everything Daisi touched turned golden. If she helped plan a beach trip for the college students at church, it wasn't good, it was unbelievably great. If she helped with a service project, not only was it successful, the church would be called on by other local churches to send someone to teach them how to plan their own.

Once a college get-together was cancelled because of lack of interest until it became known that Daisi said she'd take over if it would help. Oh, it helped! She planned a "cooking class" for college students who signed up. Because there was only room in the church kitchen for fifteen, plus another ten who would utilize the small side room for non-cooking food preparation, and there were seventy-five who wanted in on it, the get-together was repeated three consecutive weekends. Truth be told, twelve from the first get-together and eight from the second one wanted a "repeat performance." Of course they did! Daisi had planned and run the whole thing!

Everyone, however, had to admit there was one thing about Daisi that they just didn't understand... how in the world had she and Drake gotten together, fallen crazily-in-love, and decided to marry? They were _nothing_ alike. Drake was 6'2" to Daisi's 5'1". Drake had black straight hair cut short to Daisi's long blond naturally curly ringlets. Drake was quiet and serious to Daisi's "let's have a party" demeanor. Drake had just graduated from his senior year studies to become a CPA to Daisi's yet unfinished culinary arts studies. This whole relationship made no sense to anyone other than to themselves. But, there was one thing in which _everyone_ agreed they were identical... their heart for the Lord. Oh, how they loved Jesus, and wanted everyone that came in contact with them to know and love Him too.

Each person in the college department was beyond ecstatic when they received their wedding invitation. For two reasons. If Daisi was planning the celebration, it would be the most amazing event _ever_ , and Drake, or so it was rumored, had a surprise wedding gift for Daisi that could never be rivaled. Who started the rumor no one knew, but it was true. And, the only one truth about the gift that anyone had knowledge of was that he was going to present it to her at the wedding reception.

*****

No one was surprised to find that Daisi's wedding invitation was not even close to traditional. The background picture was of a carousel in the right upper corner. But not a cutesy nor nostalgic one. The horses' bodies were in a racing stance, ears laid back and mouths open as though they were breathless from fighting for first place ranking. In the left lower corner were a bride and groom. He was extremely tall with black hair and she was short with blond hair. _Hmmm... Wonder who they were supposed to represent?_ They were both in traditional wedding attire. But, what made the invitee smile, and sometimes even chuckle, were that the bride and groom had their respective gown skirt and pants legs hiked up, revealing athletic running shoes, as they crouched in a running position aimed directly toward the carousel, as if boarding that carousel were the most important goal in this world.

In the most casual font style read the following:

Get rid of any other plans...

You need to join us on this day

Saturday, August 16, 2008, at precisely 8 o'clock p.m.

At Dandridge's Country Estate by the Lake

Nestled in the Kempton Valley

Daisi Caryn Caruthers

&

Drake Allister Covington

Are, with the approval of both their sets of parents,

Going to vow to love, honor, cherish, and

Ride the Carousel of Life together as...

Mr. and Mrs.

You were lovingly chosen to join Jesus and

The Blessed Couple as they celebrate!

Bring gifts of joy and laughter,

A voracious appetite, and...

Expectation of the Unexpected

There was no RSVP card included that the prospective guest filled in to say how many would be coming, nor their regrets at not being able to attend, what their main entrée preference was, or if they would be bringing a "+ 1." But, there _was_ a small card included. It simply read, "Plenty of room, plenty of food, plenty of love to go around for you and a friend of your choosing."

Every invited guest registered nothing but joy at the invitation. After all, this was _Daisi_. They would have been shocked had the invitation been gold embossed script on cream eighty pound cardstock, stating in the most formal language that she and Drake were preparing for their nuptials.

Guests smiled at the enclosure card. That was Daisi, too! There was not one person invited who would dare not attend, if for no other reasons than their love and respect for this young godly man and woman... and intense, unquenchable curiosity.

*****

### -Chapter 5-

The day was hot and humid. The evening gave no relief. But, the wedding day excitement was to unbelievable levels as family and friends made their way out onto the hillside seating, which sloped toward the lakeshore. Lovely white folding chairs in neat rows showed that the young couple were expecting a large group of supporters.

The beautiful and lowering sun-sparkled water made for a beautiful view behind the couple who would soon be joining together in holy matrimony. Only it felt more festive than a usual wedding. In fact, it felt quite a bit like a cross between a fantasy land and a carnival.

Among the massive amounts of interesting and unique decorations were clear-wrapped red-and-white mints thrown on the ground on either side along the middle white runner. Guests were encouraged while waiting for the ceremony to begin, to help themselves, as well as drink from small individual closed clear bottles with eighteen inch long swirly straws, attached to the back of the chair in front of them by a wide band of multi-color-swirled ribbon. "Mmm" could be heard from random drink samplers in the congregation, as they discovered upon their first swallow, that the liquid repast was sparkling white grape juice.

There was so much sensory enrichment going on, that congregants didn't have time to become bored before the start of the ceremony. They did a quick scan of everything when first arriving, then once seated, they began long and pointed examination of every unexpected decoration around them. No one had ever seen such a "fantastical" wedding venue and decorations.

The only question running through most of their minds was why there was a chuppah at the front, under which the couple would apparently vow their lives to each other before God. _Was one of them from a Jewish background? Not that they knew of!_ Huh! Oh, well... back to sipping sparkling grape juice, sucking on mints and visiting with friends, old and new.

*****

"... I now pronounce you husband and wife. Drake, you may kiss your bride." At that, Drake put out his hand as if to shake Daisi's. When she stood there dazed, Drake smiled, put his hands under her arms, lifted her off the ground with the utmost delicacy so that she was eye level with him. Looking into her eyes, he whispered, "You are my gift, Daisi. I will love you all the days of my life," then he brought her lips to his. It seemed underwater slow motion, and anyone there would have denied it, but felt it... it was downright erotic somehow. _Wow! Where did that come from?! Drake was always so reserved._ One pre-teen boy in the audience yelled out, "Wow, he really loves her, doesn't he?!" To this everyone began clapping, while Drake and Daisi got lost in their shared kiss.

After the kiss, Drake stomped the cloth-wrapped glass. A small handful of people responded with a hearty, "Mazel tov!" Their exclamation of congratulations was heartfelt.

"Oh, boy! It's time for the party part, right?!" This from a young boy of ten or eleven. And, he was right. It _was_ time for the party.

*****

Mr. and Mrs. Drake Covington led the procession, from under the chuppah, in through one of two sets of double doors that provided entry into the reception room. Maybe _room_ was not the correct term. Perhaps more fitting was _grand room_. But, for all its beauty, both in rustic architecture and wedding décor, everyone was sad to leave the outdoors. During their visual perusal of the area before the wedding ceremony began, they each scanned three hundred and sixty degrees outside. As one faced the chuppah and considered its location to be twelve on a clock, there was a carousel, more vintage than the one on the wedding invitations, that could accommodate thirty persons. That was at ten o'clock. Continuing counter clockwise, there was a beautiful winding walkway of stone that led its strollers to three tennis courts, maybe a five minute walk. At perhaps seven or eight o'clock was a huge stone-edged pool and Jacuzzi. Within the pool was set up a volleyball net and two floating volleyballs that rose and fell as the elevated waterfall spouted its three streams of water into the pool, troubling the surface.

If that weren't enough, there was a large old-timey freestanding popcorn station on the opposite side of the chuppah, with an attached ice cream shed. Wow! One o'clock never looked so inviting! Until they were herded inside, most of the guests were hoping it was operational, but it wasn't.

But, of all the remaining stations that filled in two o'clock through five (shuffleboard, a dunking pool with a suspended seat inside, two or three carnival games that had closed tarps over their fronts), stood the piece de resistance... a totally clear-glass enclosed paintball war zone, but, of course, not open for the enjoyment thereof.

Six o'clock was, of course, the rear entrance of the rustic estate house. "Huge," "ginormous," and "expansive" were all words that didn't capture its massive stature. The multi-level decks, three decorative water fountains, potted flowers in every hue in the rainbow weren't eyesores by any means to the outside. However, strictly and _only_ due to budget restraints, Daisi and Drake could only financially afford (even with the help of both sets of parents) the indoor great room. It was being used for the wedding reception buffet dinner and dancing. It was large, held everything Daisi and Drake wanted: buffet food stations, a lion-head spewing fountain filled with a colorful punch, dj with all their favorite canned music (1940s big band for Drake, and 1960s Motown for Daisi), a vast polished wood dance floor, four two-person game tables with special games that Drake and Daisi prepared, and large round tables throughout the room that bordered the dance floor. And, of course, _the cake_! Oh, the cake!

The guests in attendance didn't know that the actual cake on which they would feast was being "held hostage" in the kitchen by the manager, who knew that _no one_ was to see (or even suspect) that it existed and was in there until he heard his cue to bring out this masterpiece, the dj introducing the song, "How Sweet It Is (To Be Loved by You)." And, this wouldn't happen for a couple of hours yet. And _this_ cake "took the cake!"

Daisi had pulled out all the stops when designing her _fake_ wedding cake. In fact, the design and execution, size, layout, and decorating were even beyond her own expectations. With its four layers, ombre coloring from the top layer (very pale lavender), to its bottom layer (deep purple), it was beyond magnificent! Decorated in Daisi's favorite color... purple! Oh, how she loved purple! But just in case a one-color cake might be rather boring to the eye, Daisi went a little nuts. She poked pointed colorful plastic icicles into random locations on every layer, some pointing upward, others on the sides pointing horizontal. Love it or hate it, it was a spectacle! What the guests didn't know yet was that the numbered plastic card they were handed when they entered, had a purpose. After the reception got started, Drake was going to roll in a large wheeled two-compartment cart that was literally filled on both sides to capacity with bright and colorful gifts of different sizes. The left compartment held the smaller gifts, the right held the larger ones. He would park it somewhere near the cake, while Daisi explained that during the evening festivities she or Drake would randomly be calling numbers. If a guest's number was called and he or she could throw a proffered large plastic ring onto the spike of their own choosing, from a pre-labeled line on the floor that was about ten feet away, and it stayed on for the count of five, they could claim a gift of their choice.

Naturally, a ten-year old boy (the youngest guest in attendance) had to ask why there were small gifts in one compartment and large ones in the other. And more importantly, how'd you earn the large ones. Daisi smiled at Drake at this point. The question couldn't have been any more timely than if it had been scheduled with the youngster beforehand.

Daisi pointed all guests' attention to the cake. She asked them if they noticed that while the upward pointing icicles did just that... point straight up, the icicles horizontally positioned on the sides of the cake were just slightly, slightly tipped downward. "Oh, yeah... I see that now," was the quiet comment from almost every mouth. She went on to explain that having the ring stay on the upward icicles wasn't as great a challenge, whereas if the ring thrown could avoid slipping off a downward-sloped horizontal one for at least a five-count, that was quite an achievement.

"Bottom line... throw it on the upward pointed icicles, you get your choice of a small gift. Throw it on a downward-tipped horizontal icicle and wait for the all reception party attendees to count to five. If it holds its position that long, you have your choice of a small _or_ a large gift."

The rules were barely out of Daisi's mouth, when a college student in the group yelled out, "When does this game start?"

"At unexpected moments during the evening." responded Drake.

"Boo," hissed a number of teenagers. Everyone laughed.

The fun that was already in progress was more than ever could have been anticipated. Parents didn't have to entertain or discipline their kids. Food abounded, sparkling drinks were unending, dancing took all forms, and the two-person game tables lining one inside wall were popping with excitement as ages ten to eighty-six competed with someone of their choice for "the win" to whatever competitive board game they selected. There were grab-bags of small games that Drake and Daisi had designed over this last month. Challenge someone to play, with eyes closed, pull a game from the grab-bag, win the game, win a chip. (Later in the evening the leftover big, big gifts would be auctioned off to the Win Chip holders who bid the greatest number of unredeemed chips from their overall earnings during the evening.)

The occasional number was called, the ring tossed, and gifts of all sizes were being grabbed from the cart. Laughter rocked the rafters!

Perhaps one hour into the celebration fun, Drake stood from his seat where he and Daisi whispered sweet nothings in each other's ears and watched the festivities. He used a butter knife to clink his crystal fluted glass. The congregation came to silence, some choosing to echo the tinkling sound on their own glass (if, of course, they were seated at the tables and not dancing or playing games).

"My heart is so full this evening. Jesus has saved me, I am surrounded by all the people in my life that I love and love me, and I have been given as a lifetime gift the most amazing woman the Lord ever created. I am blessed." He then turned to Daisi and spoke directly to her.

"My precious Daisi... my heart is so full tonight that it feels like it might burst right out of my chest. In my exacting accountant's world of numbers, there is a one in seven billion chance that someone like you would ever fall in love with someone like me. How it happened, I still don't understand. But, here you are, and my life is joyously beyond what I ever thought it would be."

The speech at this time drew a tear from Drake's eye. Daisi stood, leaned toward him, put her hand on his cheek, then wiped away the tear with her thumb. He resumed his thoughts.

"The greatest gift I can ever give you is to be the New Testament husband you deserve. And, I promise you that I will obediently follow God's instructions to husbands to make sure you have the life mate you deserve. This gift will require my lifetime to fulfill.

"I wanted a gift that I could give you today, though. One that would show you that I listen carefully when you speak, one that would show that I intend to do what the Bible says when it instructs me to find out what gives you joy and execute a plan to fulfill that, and one that would make you do that squeal of joy that I so love..."

Everyone in the room that had known Daisi for any time at all recognized exactly what squeal he was talking about. She would throw her hands up to her face, steepled across her mouth, and let loose with a sound of excitement that was so high pitched that it summoned all dogs within a tri-county area. Because of this, the comment brought a huge round of laughter from almost everyone present.

When the laughter died down, he continued.

"So, I only have five questions I want to ask you, Daisi. Number one... Judging from the color of the wedding cake, the flowers on all the tables, the linen napkins throughout this room, the shoes you are wearing with your gown, all boutonnieres worn by my groomsmen, the bouquets of all your bridesmaids, and on-and-on ad nauseum, I'm guessing your very favorite color is what?... Purp...???"

At this very second, Daisi displayed her prowess at this exact shriek, and was joined by everyone, including all staff and formally-clad servers, as they heard the sound of clanking metal, splintering wood, and breaking glass. Jumping from their present locations, running in a direction that took them _away_ from the point of impact to the far opposite wall, they now stood in complete silence in semi-darkness. There were no lights in the room. At all! The only illumination came from the lights that shown in windows and doors adjacent to the lavish patio deck. Just enough to see the most horrifying sight.

The wedding cake that had been such fun to throw rings at was now smashed and thrown on the floor, in a splat that sprawled to almost halfway across the room onto the dance floor. One large table, that along with two others which in total made the beautiful long head table where the bridal party sat, was thrown onto its side and further into the dancing realm, two of its legs busted clean off. All its contents, which included the tablecloth, flower arrangement, linen napkins, silverware, fine china plates, two bowls of colorful mints, had been thrown into the air, separated from their last occupancy and now rested with the cake. The full crystal pitcher that had been placed directly in the center of that table was now empty, the shattered shards of glass floating on a layer of iced water in the exact middle of the dance floor.

As the guests glanced into the direction of what previously had been a six-table long fully stocked buffet, filled with a luscious assortment of wondrous culinary delights, they now in horror glimpsed a four-table long buffet. The two tables that were closest to the point of impact were trashed and fallen warriors who had until now been joined with their four comrades against the war on wedding-reception hunger. Hot-, cold-, sweet-, and salty main dishes, salads, and side dishes had joined in a final battle cry as they flew through the air, but now laid dead or dying along with their friend the spikey purple wedding cake, all marinating in a fruity red wedding punch puddle, creating one very, very large "wedding reception goulash."

While standing immobile, transfixed by the wedding reception food carnage before them, the guests were assaulted with yet another frightening sound. It came from a different direction, to their left side along the same wall against which they took any refuge. Any music that had brought familiarity and fun to them immediately stopped, following a tumbler of multiple sounds. In unison the multitude jerked their heads to the left, just in time to see the cause. In a mad rush to escape what was happening, the dj bumped one of his assortment of mechanical equipment while trying to disembroil himself from the fray and run for safety. In the next three point seven-tenths seconds, he stumbled over and felled every piece of equipment he'd brought, as though he were chopping down trees in a forest. Once free from his station, he began running, only to land in the "goulash," sliding an easy twelve feet before coming to a stop.

In the approximately one minute before the dj jumped up from the floor and ran post haste out one of the sets of French doors leading to the elegantly decorated patio and decks, the gazes of all friends and family of the newly married couple returned to the origin of all this mayhem.

Instantaneously, every attendee realized what had caused this horrid catastrophe.

There wedged in both wall and broken French door remnants was what used to be the most beautiful restored 1957 Chevy Bel Air. Now, however, it looked like it had been a casualty of the last world war. Scratches and dents covered most of its once stunning body. The two front headlights were crushed, with their frames in two curled piles in the "food goulash." The left driver's front wheel was perched at a forty-five degree angle to the floor. And, nesting on its roof and hood were respectively a gnarled white wrought iron patio chair and a bunch of twisted exterior tarp and metal that used to be identifiable as a table umbrella.

This gorgeous vintage purple piece of art had been in mint condition. Well... actually, it still was. When the chocolate mint fountain had been catapulted off one of the two now fallen buffet tables, it had suffered extreme "motion sickness" and "threw up" its entire contents on both the car exterior and to its interior through the broken front passenger side window.

When the driver car door opened, out stumbled a tuxedo-clad young man, bleeding from a gash just below one eye, who had a ridiculous smile on his face. He seemed somewhat disoriented, but was able to speak one word that said it all, "Oops!" After this declaration, he turned and walked back out through the same path of his entry, and walked in a drunken fashion down the driveway and into the side kitchen door.

Almost as one large choir would raise its voice in unison to sing, every person in the banquet room, from young to old, purposefully and in unison turned their stunned gaze to Drake and Daisi, who were both transfixed by the sight of what the groom already knew- and the bride just realized. They were staring directly at Drake's magnificent wedding gift to his beloved. He had paid very close attention when she told him that of all cars ever designed, she thought the 1957 Bel Air was most visually stunning. Especially if it were, of course, purple. Of course he heard her. How many times had they talked about that very thing? Probably every single time they passed the one on the showcase floor of the Chevrolet dealer in town that now reclined in a disastrous mess in this very room.

What had once been a beautiful and sacrificial offering from Drake, was now wretched and deformed. Interestingly enough, the only part of the car left untouched through the debacle were its two white side fins. Starchy and pristine, they were the mocking reminders of how perfect the vintage vehicle looked before being so brutally assaulted.

Drake and Daisi turned to look into each other's faces. Both simultaneously closed their dropped-open mouths, blinked once, then returned their stares to the damage, in abundant proportion, that was directly before them.

This was horrible... beyond horrible! They had just been witness to the most catastrophic wedding reception mishap ever... ever! Or maybe not?

*****

# About the Author

Sheila and her husband Daniel are empty-nesters living in a couple of the most beautiful acres of forest in all of North Carolina. With no jobs and no prospects, they moved cross country and built their home thirty years ago, and can honestly say they never have longed for a newer one. Because, however, they've lived in this home for three decades, they occasionally would admit to each other that things were looking a little "tired," which prompted updates and re-dos. Their home has had additions, upgrades, color pallet changes, and changed out furnishings until they can't even remember what the original home looked like.

Each of them having hoped originally for a larger family, it was quite a shock when they finally realized they would only be having one child, a daughter, DanniLaii. It has now become a joke that, of course, she's an only child. When you do it right the first time, you don't need to try over and over for new ones. DanniLaii and Carl are the delights of Sheila's and Daniel's hearts. Living only five miles across town, the four of them spend huge amounts of time together, talk on the phone multiple times daily, and take every summer's vacation together.

After a number of years of teaching public high school, Sheila gave herself an "early retirement" and now is engaged in writing contemporary Christian fiction and creating Christmas romance plans for husbands and wives, in addition to designing marriage certificates and marriage vow renewal certificates.

Almost a decade and a half ago, Sheila was given the gift of multiple web sites by her daughter, which she's been running from then until now. Her heart is primarily for married couples and her commerce sites reflect her desire to minister to marriages.

Sheila's two greatest endeavors these days are writing and expanding her culinary pursuits. She weekly pulls one or two recipes from online and is surprising herself, her husband, and her family with countless new and exciting dishes. (We won't talk about the ones that don't make the grade, because they are gross and disgusting.)

Members of an extraordinary church, Westover Church of Greensboro, North Carolina, Sheila and Daniel sit under-, absorb-, and apply the Biblical truths that come their way weekly. They are forever amazed that the Lord has put them in such an extraordinary spiritually uplifting environment.

Sheila always has two or three books in progress at any given time, so her hope is that her readers will enjoy her "long, tall tales" so much that they'll return over and over to keep grabbing another one.

To read more about this author and her works, visit her at www.sheilaholmes.com.

