Chapter 93
Chapter 93
T he chapel was packed. Not having to reserve venues meant the planning came together quickly. All of Freetown had dressed for the occasion and filled every square inch, while Camp was a nervous wreck. He was wearing his dress whites and his chest was covered in medals. Something else he didn’t feel the need to explain. His groomsmen were all fellow SEALs who had served in his platoon. Alongside. A unique brotherhood. I felt fortunate that he’d chosen to work with us. Camp was special. One in a million. Which was exactly what Casey deserved.
When the music started, Bones seated Summer and then sat alongside her. The only person in the room with more medals than Camp. Which I thought fitting. Summer, meanwhile, was stunning. I had a difficult time taking my eyes off her. She was glowing. How that beautiful and magnificent woman ever married me I’d never know. When she winked at me, Camp noticed. He whispered, “You’re blushing.”
I wasn’t prepared for what happened next. The wedding party. Angel and Ellie. The two processed down the aisle arm in arm, causing me to wonder if I’d be able to stand up when I was asked, one day, to give either of them away. I was pretty sure I wouldn’t be able to make it through that.
Rounding out the party, and taking his ever-loving time, strode Gunner, cheeky as ever. He was escorting Shep, who was escorting Atlas, who was still trying to figure out how to get his big paws to move in a straight direction. Attracted to everything that glittered or moved or breathed, the ring bearer walked a pinball path toward the altar, stopping at every hand for a pet or a stroke. The levity was good for the soul. Gunner led Shep and Atlas to Summer’s side, where she lifted them onto the pew and tucked them in close to her. Then Gunner took his place next to me.
The music changed to “Canon in D,” and Clay appeared at the back of the chapel. I whispered to Camp, “Your turn’s coming.”
It was a fun, and beautiful, moment.
Everyone stood, and Casey—a vision—took Clay’s arm, and the two began that long, slow walk into the rest of her life. I wouldn’t soon forget it. Watching Camp watch her. His tears. Hers. It was one of those beautiful moments when the sun stopped and all the world held its breath.
I remembered the shower and lifting Casey off the floor. Her faint pulse. The way she laid her head on my neck. Breathed once. Then twice. How she clung to me while her life departed. Then returned.
I remembered the hospital and how she held my hand. In disbelief. Given her past, given all the men who had used her and discarded her, who would rescue her? Who would ever value her? Who could? She walked slowly. Elegantly. Was anything more beautiful than a bride presented to her groom?
Then there was Clay. The statesman, the gentleman of Freetown. Tux. Black patent leather shoes. White beard. Beaming. A man who understood freedom. And who better to present the bride?
Halfway down the aisle, Casey’s tears broke loose. Clay, ever watchful and not the least bit hurried, stopped, pulled out his handkerchief, and handed it to her. Casey, in perfect self-effacing fun, accepted it, wiped her face, blew her nose—which brought much laughter—and then waited for him to resume their walk. Which he did.
When they reached me, Casey stood like an angel who had flown too close to the ground. Camp, teetering on my left, was close to hyperventilating, while Clay had become our anchor. He held us all together. We made a beautiful patchwork. A mosaic of broken shards now indistinguishable from the whole.
I spoke to the audience. “You may be seated.”
While they did, I marveled at Casey. A revelation. Never had I seen a bride so brilliant. So full of life. So deserving of that dress. She was a mixture of smiles and tears and laughter and a wadded-up, snotty handkerchief. A beautiful expression of a messy life in bloom. Which she was. Which we all are.
The music stopped, and it was my turn, so I spoke. “Dearly beloved, we have come together in the presence of God to witness and bless the joining together of this man and this woman in holy matrimony. The bond and covenant of marriage was established by God in creation, and our Lord Jesus Christ adorned this manner of life by His presence and first miracle at a wedding in Cana of Galilee. It signifies to us the mystery of the union between Christ and His church, and Holy Scripture commends it to be honored among all people.
“The union of husband and wife in heart, body, and mind is intended by God for their mutual joy, for the help and comfort given one another in prosperity and adversity, and when it is God’s will, for the procreation of children and their nurture in the knowledge and love of the Lord. Therefore, marriage is not to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly, but reverently, deliberately, and in accordance with the purposes for which it was instituted by God.
“Into this holy estate, Camp and Casey come now to be joined.”
While part of me spoke, part of me watched. Maybe it was the writer in me, but I’d always been pretty good at people watching. The audience was mesmerized. Completely absorbed in the moment. One of their own did it. Casey was living the fairy tale. Most everyone in that room had been rescued from hell and lived to tell about it, and every single one dreamed the dream. The impossible dream that said, “Maybe someone will love me too. Maybe I’m lovable.” And Casey, whose story was as bad as was conceivable, showed them that the fairy tale was possible. That happily-ever-after could happen. That each of them not only deserved to but would wear white. Which was their heart’s cry. To wear white and not only not feel guilty in the wearing, but feel like they deserved to.
Because there was a difference. A big difference.
“Casey.” She never took her eyes off Camp. “Casey Bishop.” She shot a glance at me and cracked half a smile. “Will you have this man to be your husband, to live together in the covenant of marriage? Will you love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health, and forsaking all others, be faithful to him as long as you both shall live?”
“I will.”
“Camp, will you have this woman to be your wife, to live together in the covenant of marriage? Will you love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health, and forsaking all others, be faithful to her as long as you both shall live?”
“I will.”
Next I spoke to all of Freetown. “Will all of you witnessing these promises do all in your power to uphold these two persons in their marriage?”
“We will.”
I couldn’t hide the smile. “Who gives this woman to be married to this man?”
Clay tried to speak, could not, and tried again. This time, he looked across the audience and then back at me. “We do.”
Maybe that was the moment. The moment when I knew Marie had been right. My life had meant something because she’d made one singular decision.
I closed my book and spoke to Camp and Casey. “Okay, you two. This is ‘that day.’ It’s here. Take a deep breath. Nobody’s in a hurry. You’re surrounded by friends and family. Every single person here is pulling for you. We can’t mess this up. And even if we do, they’ll never say a word, so take a deep breath.”
They did. Which was good, because Camp was about to pass out.