velvet bodices and short, full, chiffon skirts, white anklets edged in lace and black Mary Janes. Their hair had been caught up into sausage curls on opposite sides of their heads and each carried a small basket filled with rose petals, which they sprinkled judiciously along the white satin runner on which they walked. One of Vince’s nephews had unrolled the runner along the aisle earlier before two of his cousins had entered to light the many candles now glowing and flickering about the room, their light refracting against the stained glass windows.
The double doors at the end of the aisle closed behind the girls. Once they reached their assigned spots, the organist switched from Debussy to the wedding march and the crowd rose to its collective feet.
The doors swung open again, revealing Jolie on the arm of the man who would shortly become her father-in-law. Larry Cutler couldn’t have looked prouder walking his own daughters down the aisle, and none of them could have looked any more beautiful than Jolie did.
She wore her mother-in-law’s circa-1960s dress, and the simplicity of the Empire style, with its delicate lace hem, suited her well. A short, close fitting jacket of ivory velvet was added to make the sleeveless bodice suitable for a winter wedding. Along with the lengthy but fragile veil that rested atop Jolie’s head beneath a simple coronet and trailed along behind her, it lent an elegant air to what would have otherwise been a sadly outdated gown.
The bridal bouquet was made up of pale-yellow roses, their stems tied together with velvet ribbon. To please Vince, Jolie had left her long, golden-brown hair down, the coronet sitting just far enough back on her head to keep her bangs out of her eyes.
This was perhaps the first time Connie had ever seen her sister wearing makeup. Nothing heavy—a touch of blush, mascara and a glossy, pink lipstick that called attention to her pretty mouth. The effect was astonishing, though.
Vince looked absolutely stunned, entranced by the vision that glided toward him, and he didn’t snap out of it until Marcus announced in a clear, ringing voice, “I give this woman in marriage.” At which point, Larry kissed her hand and placed it in Vince’s.
Larry then did something that would stay with Connie for a very long time.
He leaned forward and hugged his son tightly.
It was unexpected, at least to Connie. She wasn’t used to seeing two grown men, father and son, masculine and strong, display a deep, easy affection for a special moment.
Connie couldn’t help but think that Russell would never have that.
Because of her—because of the mistakes she had made—her son would never know the love of a father so complete that embarrassment simply did not exist in the same sphere with it.
Tears immediately gathered in her eyes and she had to look away.
She wasn’t the only one crying at that point. Vince’s mother and oldest sister were already dabbing at their eyes. Sharon, in fact, had a difficult time getting through the Old Testament reading that she had chosen. Olivia delivered the New Testament portion more easily, but she was in tears, too, by the end of the music.
Marcus, bless him, elevated the ceremony from tear-filled to joyous simply by his demeanor as he delivered a short homily on the blessings and responsibilities of marriage and read the vows, which the happy couple spoke loudly and clearly.
In a small departure from the norm, it had been decided that it was best if the ring bearer—the youngest of Olivia’s three sons—make as short an appearance as possible in his formal role. This arrangement also gave him a real moment in the spotlight as he now came forward, carrying the actual rings attached to a small pillow by ribbons. Connie and the best man, Boyd, a friend and employee of Vince’s, met him at the head of the aisle and took the rings from him, then moved into position once more while shepherding the young boy into his spot among the groomsmen, who were his uncles.
The rings were exchanged.
Marcus lit two taper candles and passed them to the bride and groom, who together lit the unity candle while the organ played. Then they knelt at the altar and received their blessing.
Finally, the moment came when Marcus pronounced them man and wife, followed by the admonition “You may kiss your bride.”
To her shock, Connie found that she couldn’t watch.
It was ludicrous. She had seen the two kiss before, and she’d always felt such delight for her sister’s sake. She knew that Jolie deserved the kind of love that Vince showered upon her. Yet, in that moment when they publicly sealed their lifelong commitment to each other, Connie could not bear to witness it.
Somehow and very unexpectedly, it was as if a knife had been driven into her heart, as if she were witnessing the death of all her romantic notions, silly as they had been. Even as the newly married couple turned to be presented to the assembly as Mr. and Mrs. Vince Cutler, Connie could not look at them. She applauded along with everyone else and she truly was happy for them, but she suddenly felt as if a sob was about to break free from her chest.
She knew what it was, of course. She had felt envy before but never like this—never with this searing sense of pure loss—for surely this moment was as close as she would ever come to a wedding of her own.
Not even time could diminish the mistakes that she had made. Only in Heaven would she be able to say that it no longer mattered. As Marcus often said, God removes the consequences of sin in the hereafter, but in the here and now, our choices often yield terrible fruit.
The sad result of her choices was that no decent Christian man would ever want her for his wife, and that was as it should be. She thought that she’d faced and accepted that harsh truth, but suddenly she realized that deep down she harbored a very foolish hope, which now surely had been properly dashed.
It was all for the best, she told herself. She was not like Jolie. Unfortunately, she was much more like their mother, and this just served to prove it. No matter how much she had tried to deny it in the past, the emotional neediness of Velma Wheeler was very much her legacy to her youngest daughter.
Disgusted with herself, Connie fixed her smile and followed her sister and her new husband down the aisle. The best man—a perfectly nice, married gentleman—escorted her, but it was all she could do to hold his arm until they had cleared the room.
At once, she was swept into a joint hug by the newly married couple, and then it was fairly chaotic for several moments as the remainder of the wedding party joined them. Telling herself that she would be thankful for this reality check later, Connie allowed herself to be hurried into a side room while the photographer snapped candid shots and Marcus told the guests how to find the hall where the reception would be held.
After the guests had headed toward the reception site, the wedding party hurried back into the sanctuary for a few group photos. Then the attendants trooped over to the reception en masse while Jolie and Vince struck a few poses as husband and wife.
It was a happy, talking, laughing mob in the reception hall. Connie couldn’t have counted the number of hugs that enveloped her, and yet shortly after the new Mr. and Mrs. Cutler arrived, Connie found herself standing alone in a corner watching the festivities. She felt apart, solitary, sealed away behind an invisible wall of past mistakes.
Some prisons, she had learned, were not made of bars.
Squaring her shoulders, she scolded herself for letting regret stain this of all days. After sending a quick prayer upward, she fixed her smile and
