Chapter 31 #2
"I wasn't running," Rita tells us. "I was giving them room."
Rudy climbs down from the tree. "Very considerate. Nearly gave them the parking lot."
"At least I stayed on the ground," Rita shoots back.
Molly presses her lips together. I study the bee on my lapel before I can trust my own face. The church ladies emerge from under the table and rescue their chairs.
"Should we—" Pastor Hayes looks uncertain. "Should we continue?"
"Please," Molly says.
I take my vow paper back from her. It's crumpled now, a little torn down the middle from how hard I'm gripping it.
"Okay," I say. "Where was I?"
"Eight years ago," Molly prompts.
"Right." I smooth the paper. My hands are still shaking, but differently now. "Eight years ago, I stood in front of you with vows written on my arm because I was terrified I'd forget them."
Molly's eyes are wet.
"I broke those promises," I read. "I kept things from you. I made decisions without you. I let you stand alone in rooms you should never have been alone in. And when everything fell apart, I didn't know how to fix it because I'd never learned how to be the husband you deserved."
Clem reaches for the paper. I let her touch the edge while I keep reading.
"This year taught me what I should have known from the beginning," I read. "You don't protect someone by keeping them in the dark. You protect them by standing beside them, by telling them everything, by making sure they never have to wonder where you are or what you're thinking."
I have to stop for a second. I keep going.
"So these are my promises," I tell her. "I will talk to you before making choices that belong to both of us. No more letting you find out after everyone else. When I'm afraid, I'll tell you instead of hiding until the damage is done. And when you need me in the room, I'll be there."
I look up from the paper. The bee on my lapel buzzes softly.
"I love you, Molly Edward," I say, and I don't need the paper for this part. "I have loved you since you walked out of a field with a box of bees and no fear. I will love you until I stop breathing, and probably after that too. Thank you for giving me another chance to deserve you."
The crowd is crying. My mother is a wreck. Even Eli looks suspiciously wet-eyed.
Molly hands Clem to my mother and takes my hands.
"My turn," she says.
She takes her folded vows from the pocket of her dress, glances down once, and starts talking.
"First," she says, "that bee on your lapel is actually kind of adorable. You should consider keeping it."
The crowd laughs. Somebody whistles. Then she looks back down at the paper, and nothing is funny anymore.
"Eight years ago," she reads, "I married a man who wrote his vows on his arm in blue ballpoint pen. I thought it was the most romantic thing I'd ever seen. I still think that."
My throat locks.
"You weren't perfect then," she says. "You're not perfect now. But here's the thing: I never needed perfect. I needed someone who would learn. Who would mess up and come back and do the work to be better."
She squeezes my hands.
"This year almost broke us," she says, and her voice drops. "It should have broken us. But you fought for me. You let me be angry. You waited while I figured out what I wanted. And when I came back, you didn't make me feel guilty for leaving. You just—opened the door."
Her voice wobbles.
"So here's what I promise," she says. "I will tell you when you're being an idiot. Disagreeing won't mean we've failed, and I won't hide what I want to keep the peace. I'm your partner, not your project. I love you, and I intend to spend the rest of our lives making that extremely obvious."
She wipes her eyes.
The church ladies sob into their napkins.
Nobody laughs this time.
Pastor Hayes pronounces us married again. Renewed. Committed.
I kiss my wife while our daughter claps and the church ladies weep and a single bee buzzes softly against my heart.
The reception is chaos in the best way. String lights glow against the darkening sky. The champagne flows. Rudy dances with Rita and steps on her feet twice, and she forgives him both times.
I dance with Molly first. Then with Clem, holding her against my chest while she tries to grab the lights.
"Once she can walk, your boots are going to disappear," Molly says, watching us. "She's already tried to move one under the sofa."
"I'll follow the trail of stolen property," I tell her.
Molly laughs at us over her champagne. "She'll be faster than you think. You've raised cattle, but you've never negotiated with somebody wearing a bee tutu."
"I married her mother," I say. "I have some experience."
I look at my daughter. My wife. The meadow full of people who came back, who forgave us, who showed up.
I tighten my hold on Clem as she lunges for a string light. "Apparently the negotiations have started."
The music changes to a slow song. Molly takes Clem from my arms, and we dance together, the three of us, swaying in the light, and I finally understand how close I came to losing the only thing I ever built that mattered.
"Mol," I say into her hair.
"Hm?" she murmurs.
"Thank you," I tell her.
"For what?" she asks.
"For being brave enough to leave," I say. "And brave enough to come back."
She leans her head against my shoulder.
"Thank you for being someone worth coming back to," she says.
The stars come out. The bees sleep in their new hive at the edge of the meadow. And I hold my family close and don't let go.