Eighty-Three
There was a very fancy uniform that Cary could wear to his wedding. A white coat and dark pants. His mom had been angling
for it. Shiloh had initially agreed, but then she’d changed her mind.
On this one day, she didn’t want to think about the Navy. She wanted to think about the man.
So Cary was wearing the navy blue suit he’d bought for Mikey’s wedding. (Janine had been right after all—he was wearing it again.) He had a white rose boutonniere, and he’d grown his hair out as long as the Navy would let him. It was
long enough to look blond again in direct sunlight. Shiloh couldn’t get enough of it.
Shiloh was wearing a white lace, fifties-style wedding dress. A-line, tea-length, with white gloves and a little jacket. She’d
hired a woman in the costume shop to make it for her. (Not Kate.)
Junie got to pick the color of her flower girl dress. She wanted pink. Gus wore navy shorts and suspenders, with a pink clip-on
bow tie. He wanted to throw flowers with Junie instead of carrying the ring.
Shiloh and Cary got married in Miller Park and had the reception down the street in the youth wrestling hall. (Janine still
had all the tulle and Christmas lights in her garage. Shiloh borrowed them.)
Shiloh hadn’t wanted a bridal dance. She didn’t want to dance with everyone watching her—it made her skin crawl.
“But you’re an actress ,” Cary argued. “People stare at you all the time.”
“I don’t want them staring at me when I’m actually being me.”
That meant the first dance of the night was Cary and his mom. Lois had zero issues with everyone staring at her. She was wearing a new dress. Pink, like Junie’s. She left her walker at the table, and
Cary supported her.
Shiloh watched from the side of the dance floor, holding Gus on her hip, even though he was too big for it.
Cary kept looking over at Shiloh. She’d honestly never seen him this happy. The lines in his cheeks hadn’t disappeared all
day.
Lois had picked the song for the mother-son dance—“Landslide” by Fleetwood Mac, which Shiloh hadn’t been expecting. (She would
have bet on something country.) It was making Shiloh cry. She swayed to the music with Gus-Gus. Junie was leaning into Shiloh’s
skirt. Shiloh put a hand on her head.
When the song was half over, Mikey jogged over to Shiloh’s mom and dragged her out onto the dance floor, too. That made tears
spill down Shiloh’s cheeks. She hoped that Lois wouldn’t mind sharing the spotlight—but, no, Lois was smiling. Everyone was
smiling but Shiloh.
“Mommy, are you okay?” Junie asked.
“They’re happy tears,” Shiloh said.
“Mommy, you okay?” Gus said.
“I’m okay.”
“Don’t cry.”
“Okay, Gus-Gus, I won’t.”
Cary hadn’t wanted alcohol at the reception, not with all his sisters there and their grown kids. Shiloh had worried that
would mean no one would dance. But her friends from the theater didn’t need booze to make a scene.
After the first dance, Cary wanted to walk around and thank everyone personally for coming. Shiloh wanted to sit on the dark
side of the room, gossiping with Tom and Daniel, and letting Gus eat more cake.
She’d loaded the reception playlist with songs about people named “Carrie” and “Carey.” Plus “Voices Carry” and “Carry On
Wayward Son.” Every time one came on, Cary found Shiloh across the room and smiled at her.
That was her husband. (That had legally been her husband for months. Cary was relentless—they’d gone to the courthouse two weeks after he gave her a ring.)
Three of Cary’s friends from his early days in the Navy had flown in for the wedding. He was taking the opportunity to visit
with them. He was the only one of them not in uniform.
Shiloh kept an eye on him.
Shiloh and Gus ate so much cake. Junie danced like a little maniac.
The reception was winding down when Cary came to Shiloh’s table. “You have to dance with me,” he said. “It’s my wedding.”
“He makes a compelling case,” Tom said. Tom liked Cary. Tom liked anyone who could quickly get off book.
Cary took Shiloh’s hand. She groaned.
Junie ran up to their table. “Mommy, will you please dance with me? I’ve been waiting all night!”
“She makes a compelling case,” Cary said.
Shiloh stood up. She handed Gus off to Cary and took Junie’s hand. All four of them walked out to the dance floor.
The song was “Babe” by Styx. Shiloh had always liked Styx. Even though they were a hessian band.
Shiloh held Junie’s hands and sang to her.
Cary dipped Gus backwards and swung him from side to side. Gus loved it—until he didn’t. “Gus wants to dance with Mommy!”
“ I want to dance with Mommy,” Shiloh corrected.
Shiloh took Gus, and Cary picked up Junie. The four of them swayed. Cary sang, too.
“This doesn’t count,” he said to Shiloh during an instrumental break.
Before the song was over, Cary was waving over Shiloh’s mom to come get the kids. Shiloh let Gus go.
Cary put an arm around her waist and took her hand. The Styx song started over from the beginning.
Shiloh laughed. She laid a hand on his shoulder. “Oh, wow, is this your bridal dance?”
“Yes. I waited until people started to leave. No one’s staring at you.”
“You are.”
Cary nodded, giving her a serious look. “Yeah.”
Shiloh held the look as long as she could, then shivered, stepping closer and pressing her cheek against his.
Cary wrapped his arm tighter. “You okay?”
She nodded. “I’m happy.”
He let go of her hand and hugged her with both arms around her waist.
Shiloh put her arms around his neck. “I’m sorry it took so long, Cary.”
“Me too, Shy.”
Shiloh closed her eyes tight. She bit her lip. She imagined herself holding him at every moment she’d known him, like a pearl-ended
pin stuck through time and space.
“I want to remember this day,” she whispered. “But I also want to have so many good days that this one gets lost in the plethora.
Cary, I want to make you so happy that all your happy memories run together. I want the rest of your life to be a bright gold
streak.”
He pulled away to lower his eyebrows at her. “Shiloh, I’m not going to forget our wedding day.”
“I hope you do,” she said fiercely. “I’m going to make you feel so consistently good that the days lose specificity.”
“Is that a threat?”
“Yes. I’m going to obliterate your memory. All you’re going to remember at the end is a blur of milk and honey.”
Cary blinked. His eyes were shining. “You should have put this in your vows.”
“I was always heading your way, Cary.”
He kissed her. It was a way of covering her mouth. “I know, Shiloh. You got here just in time.”