Page 132 of Once a Hero

But first we have to get married.

Pastor Wilcox must be pushing ninety or a hundred years old. He was wobbly on his legs, but was determined to stand through the entire wedding ceremony. All fifty minutes of it.

His wife had passed away many years ago, but Pastor Wilcox continued to preach “all the way to heaven.” His personal goal was to go from the pulpit to heaven.

Beatrice prayed that he would live through their wedding day because for him to die while officiating the wedding would be awkward.

And tragic.

Speaking of tragic, Beatrice wondered who Philomena was really like as a mother. Her memories of her childhood until she was five were scanty as best. She wished she could sit down with Dad and ask him about Philomena. However, he had still been grieving before the US Marshals had whisked him away to parts unknown.

She did not want to broadcast this wedding online for anyone to see. So there would be no live-streaming, and thus no chance for Dad to watch his only daughter get married.

So sad.

Beatrice opened her eyes and found herself standing outside the bridal room, greeted by her brother who had cleaned up and looked like a prince in that tuxedo.

“Ready?” Benjamin asked.

“Will we ever be?”

“I don’t know. Never been married. Not sure if I’m going to marry any time soon.”

“We don’t know what will happen tomorrow. We’re only given today.” Beatrice recalled Matthew 6:34.

Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.

Yes, the world today was filled with evil.

“Let’s focus on today then,” Benjamin said.

“Focus on God for today? After all, the word today is filled with evil—Oh!” She squeezed her brother’s arm gently. “Forgive me, I’ve corrected you twice, and all you did was try to encourage me.”

“Don’t worry, Little Sister,” Benjamin patted her gloved hand. “We know each other well. I’d rather you be transparent with me. And I promise to be honest with you the rest of my life.”

“Thank you.”

The wedding march started playing. Beatrice wanted to both smile and cry at the same time.

“I wish our parents were here,” she whispered.

“God is with us. That’s enough for us.”

“Yes. God is enough.” She sniffled.

The old chapel door opened. It was not a long walk up the aisle toward Jake, who grinned like a school boy. He looked dashing in his black tuxedo with a bow tie.

Standing next to him, Earl made faces, trying to make Beatrice laugh.

She chuckled. It was good to have friends like that, who knew that such as solemn moment sometimes required brief levity.

Benjamin handed Beatrice over to Jake, who smiled from ear to ear like he was going on a much-awaited field trip.

Pastor Wilcox held up—by sitting down on a barstool—and conducted the ceremony flawlessly. Bride and groom exchanged traditional wedding vows to cherish each other until death.

Death.

The fact that it had to be brought up in a wedding reminded Beatrice of the brevity of life. Someday, she and Jake would grow old and pass away, leaving the next generation to fend for themselves and carry on. The cycle of life would continue until Jesus came back again.

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