“What?” I whisper in shock-relief rolled into one.
My mother was weeping, and my father looked at me with a deer-in-the-headlights expression.
“I don’t understand? You argued that he is dying to marry me? Should I assume he is dead?” I angled my voice to make it look like it was trembling to shake, and I was trying hard to find my voice.
But on the inside, I’m dancing, celebrating, happy isn’t the word, Delirious. I’m the happiest woman in the world. Though my sister, Lee, was consoling my mother, she narrowed her eyes at me and the meaning was clear. Suspicion, doubt, and cynical written on it. She was trying to figure out if I had a hand in this drama.
“We don’t know...” my father dragged his words, not sure what to say.
“You don’t know? That’s comforting, Dad. What should I do? Stay in the church forever or wait for him to return from the Mountains or rise from the dead?” I tilted my head to look at my weeping mother.
“What do you think I should do, Ma? Do you have an anecdote on how a girl should act when dumped by her Fiancée hours before the wedding? Considering how you both blackmailed me into this ‘hurry-I’m-going-die-if-you-do-not- marry’ situation?” I sneered.
My Mom and Dad looked away, ashamed.
Let me get this clear, I’m not angry that my good-for-nothing fiancée dumped me, but I’m mad at my parents for putting me through hell for nothing.
The wedding is taking place in a small but lovely church. The church was large and lonely, and we loved to go there, especially on bright nights. Arguably one of the most beautiful churches in America is St. Patrick’s Cathedral. A large, low porch let one into the building by a Norman doorway and a heavy oak door studded with iron. Inside, the arches rose into darkness, and between them were the reticulated windows, which stood out white in the moonlight. In the chancel, the windows were of rich glass, which showed in faint light their noble coloring, and made the black oak of the choir pews hardly more solid than the shadows. But on each side of the altar lay a grey marble figure of a knight in full plate armor lying upon a low slab, with hands held up in everlasting prayer, and these figures, oddly enough, were always to be seen if there was any glimmer of light in the church. It is not suitable for a fairy tale wedding but perfect for a low-budget wedding like mine.
My parents had a typical arranged marriage. My father was into marketing, a man who w
