Page 6 of The Wedding Run
Dad offers it to me, and I hold it reverently, as if it might shatter into a million sparks of light and then disappear. Elle and Charlie nudge each other to get close and read it, too.
“It’s for all of us,” Elle declares, her voice rising with eagerness.
Dad adds, "It’s been a few years since your last one."
Charlie steps back as if she cannot handle this new revelation. Bailey approaches her, and she strokes his head.
“When your mother was ill,” Dad says, “we imagined what each of you would be like when you grew up and stepped out into the world. It brought her comfort in those final days. She made me promise to give this letter to the first one of you to tie the knot.”
“Wait!” Ellie protests. “I’m not allowed to read it?”
“Not yet,” Dad confirms.
Charlie aims her camera at the envelope and clicks away.
“But that’s not fair!” Elle protests with a pout. “You could have told us there was another letter.”
“Then you might have raced for the altar before you were ready,” Dad says. “Or are you ready to marry someone you haven’t told me about?”
“No.” Elle jerks her chin.
Charlie shakes her head and focuses on her lens.
Elle waves a hand like she couldn’t care less. “Fine. Go ahead.”
“When it’s your turn,” Dad tries to appease, “you’ll read it. Until then…” He tilts his head toward the doorway.
“We can take a hint.” Charlie caps her lens.
Elle scoops up my iPad. “Don’t take too long. We have a schedule to keep.”
“We’ll check onDebbie’sprogress,” Charlie says, which makes me smile.
Dad grins. “Trust the plan.”
Elle skirts out the door, and Charlie motions for Bailey, who escorts them. Then she closes the door.
Holding the envelope with anticipation and dread, I walk toward the arched window. This could be the last letter, and if so, it’s a moment to savor and cherish. The paper is high quality, thick and weighty, imbued with importance and expectation. The linen weave crisscrosses the envelope like tiny etchings, and I trace a curlicue in Momma’s handwriting. She did everything with such care and love.
A band tightens around my chest. Oh, how I miss her.
A whiff of something catches my attention, and I pull the envelope close. A rancid scent assaults me. Immediately, I push it away.
“Sorry,” Dad says. “I kept it in my tackle box. Figured you wouldn’t look there.”
“You’re right about that.” I open the envelope and tease out the letter. As I unfold it, the paper feels stiff with age. When I begin reading, I can hear my mother’s gentle voice.
My dearest, darling girls,
Life doesn’t always follow the plans we make. It grieves me not to see you grow into womanhood. I dreamed of spa parties, manis and pedis, searching for prom dresses, making wedding plans… and eventually planning baby showers. I imagined your first dances, graduations, and, hardest of all, your wedding days….
Dad comes to stand beside me, and I tuck my hand into his as I have through so many monumental moments in my life. I continue to read, and my vision blurs.
Your father and I wanted to show you girls how beautiful a marriage can be, but Dad had to do that all by himself. I knowwithout a doubt that he has been faithful to the promises we made, the plans we envisioned, and the dreams we shared.
Momma’s words float around the room like tiny effervescent bubbles as she writes of love, joy, forever, and always.
When I finish reading, my vision shrinks to a pinpoint, and everything becomes dark and still. My lungs compress, and I struggle to draw a breath.
