Chapter 11 #2
“You did. These first pictures are from when Christopher first came into our lives, before you became ill the first time,” Angie said and watched as Willow looked through them slowly.
When she was done, she took the next stack her husband handed her.
“These next ones are when you were in the hospital. I have to warn you, Wanda, they aren’t good.
I took your picture every day. Your father would stop by the hospital on his way to work to see you, then he’d go to the office, and after Fern and Doug were put on the bus, I’d come to the hospital and sit with you.
I’d read, color with you, or just sit and hold your hand.
Depending on how you felt that day.” She paused as her daughter went through the pictures.
“Oh my. I was really sick, wasn’t I?”
“Yes,” Randall said. “Each round of chemo you had consisted of eight injections. Not to mention the radiation. Over your time in the hospital, you went through three rounds of chemo. It was after the third round was completed, the tests were run, and the doctor told us to make plans for your funeral.” He paused and rubbed his face.
“I don’t mean to be blunt, and the doctor wasn’t that blunt, but that’s basically what he said.
There was no improvement, you were getting worse by the day.
“Your mother and I talked it over, and that night when we left the hospital, we went to the church and prayed. Pastor Jones was there, and we told him everything. Before this, he knew you were sick and would come to visit you, he’d mention you in Sunday Service and ask for prayers on your behalf, but he didn’t know the extent of your illness until that night.
See we went to the church to ask him to come to give you the last rights.
It was that bad.” They were silent for several minutes before Angie continued.
“The next day, your father took off work, and we spent the entire day with you.
One of our neighbors brought Fern and Douglas to the hospital after they got out of school.
It was then that we explained how sick you were and that you might not last the week.
When Pastor Jones came, you asked to talk to him alone.
When we came back from the cafeteria, you were alive, but sleeping peacefully, and Pastor Jones left.
“The next day, after school, Christopher Evans came with his parents. He stood at the end of your bed and just watched you while you said hi to Fern and Doug and his parents. When they were done saying hello, Christopher climbed on the bed, crawled up to you and literally bent to one knee and asked you to marry him. You gave the sweetest sad little smile and said yes. He then told you that if you could hold on for two weeks, he would plan everything out, but you had to get better to walk down the aisle because he was going to give you a church wedding. It was all so cute, we thought it was one little kid placating another one.”
“Like saying something to make the sick one feel better?”
“Exactly,” Randall said. “Now you didn’t get better overnight, but you held your own, and you got to the point where you could sit up in bed on your own.
We didn’t see Christopher again until three nights before Easter Sunday.
He and his parents came to our house, and he laid it all out what he had planned.
He had this pad of paper with lists all made out.
He went over the wedding ceremony step by step.
He even assigned tasks to your mother and me. ” He chuckled.
“I was to go out and buy you a white lace dress.” Angie giggled.
“Thank god it was Easter time and all the cute dresses were on sale. Fern and I did that and Fern made the wreath to go on your head, with the flowers and ribbons. Your father was to talk to the doctors and get you released from the hospital that day. With the promise that you’d return after the ceremony. ”
“What was Doug’s job?” Willow snickered.
“He was armed with one of Christopher’s lists, and it was his job to make sure the church was in order. That the organist had the right music, the flowers were in the right place, a spot in the front pew was available for the families of bride and groom. Stuff like that.”
“And how old was Christopher at this time?”
“Five and a half.” Angie grinned. “The day came, we went to the Sunday service, and you were being brought to the church by ambulance.
You arrived just as the service was ending.
Pastor Jones was talking to the congregation about what was about to take place.
No one was warned ahead of time. They were invited to stay or leave.
They all stayed. Your father met the doctor and nurse in the vestibule and Doug joined you to make sure you were ready.
When you were, he opened the doors and came to the front to sit down.
“You had asked me to be your matron of honor, and Christopher asked his father to be his best man. It was slow going, and so many times I wanted to run down the aisle, pick you up and carry you to the front.”
“You and me both,” Randall said. “At one point I tried, but you told me no, this was your dream to walk down the aisle on my arm at your wedding. The nurse walked behind us rolling your IV pole.” They paused and handed her photos.
“We finally made it to the front, Pastor Jones asked who gave the bride, I said we did, then I picked you up and set you down beside Christopher. It only took fifteen minutes, but you had the wedding ceremony, and afterward, you asked me to carry you down to the basement to the reception, where cupcakes and Kool-Aid were served. You were only there about an hour and a half total, then went back to the hospital.”
“One of the parishioners worked for the local paper and did a human-interest piece on the wedding,” Angie said, and showed her the article.
“A national paper picked up the story, and it generated tons of potential donors. See, by this time, we’ve had everyone who was remotely related to us for a bone marrow match tested.
Nothing. The doctors said that was going to be your only chance of survival, a bone marrow transplant. They couldn’t give you any more chemo.”
“The next three weeks after the wedding was chaos.” He looked at his wife and grinned at the word.
“You took a turn for the worse, but it seemed like at the last minute we found a perfect match, and you had the bone marrow transplant, and it seemed like overnight you improved. I mean improved enough that you only spent another month in the hospital, was in remission and went home.”
“So, where was Christopher during all this?”
“His father was in the military, and it wasn’t until recently when he found us, while looking for you, that we found out his father had been transferred, and Christopher and his mother had gone to Japan with Mr. Evans. So, he was out of the country.”
Willow didn’t know what to say to that, and she sat there looking at all the pictures. She kept going back to one of the two of them with Pastor Jones behind them after they were ‘pronounced’ husband and wife.
“But what about this?” Willow showed them the license and frowned.
“No clue how that happened.” Angie sighed.
“I know Pastor Jones was having trouble with his intern clerk, saying he was too pushy and overzealous in the paperwork, that not everything had to be done right then and there.
As for my signature, the only thing I can think of was a couple of days after the ceremony, I stopped by the church to talk to Pastor Jones.
See that's when you took a turn for the worse. I had been on several committees at the church before you became sick and that clerk said my signature was needed on some reports for a committee. I remember him shoving a clipboard at me, and I signed it as I was practically running down the hall to talk to Pastor Jones. Never even looked at what I was signing. I was looking to talk to the Pastor in order to plan your funeral. Signing dumb documents were the furthest thing from my mind, I signed it just to get him to get the hell away from me.”
“But surely it can’t be legal?”
“You wouldn’t think so, but when Christopher arrived in Oregon, he said a few weeks prior he had gone to the courthouse in Manhattan to get a marriage license for him and his fiancée.
That’s when he was given that. I know the wedding took place in California, but I’m assuming if it was on file in New York, then it’s legal. ”
“Well, I have one of the guys from next door looking into it. Before you judge, not everyone next door is hardened bikers. They’re what you would call weekenders.
They all have good day jobs, but love to ride.
Only a couple of them operate the bike shop.
Scott, who made a copy of the license is an actual lawyer, but he doesn’t do divorce, he’s looking into finding me a good lawyer.
I even called my lawyer I used for the business, and she’s looking into it also.
But until I have an actual divorce lawyer, I’m at a standstill. ”