The church was packed. It looked like the whole town had turned out for Debbie's wedding, and I was glad. It was her big day, pineapple dresses, flowered hats and all.
There was Joe, smiling at me from a pew, tall and handsome in a pinstriped suit and the vintage Hermes tie I'd given him for the occasion. I tried not to look at Evan, knowing he'd make me laugh, but couldn't help but notice how fabulous he looked in a untucked fitted buttondown and gray silk blazer. His boyfriend Butch stood next to him, bald head gleaming, muscular shoulders straining the fabric of his coat, a single daisy pinned to his lapel.
Then I was at the front of the church, taking my place next to Diane. Silence for a moment, broken only by a final sniffle from Brittany , and the wedding march began. Despite my desire to be somewhere else, wearing something else (anything else), I felt my heart swell along with the music.
Nicholette Nadine Styx, romantic sucker extraordinaire.
A shuffle of feet as everyone rose, and all heads turned toward the rear of the church. All heads except Joe's, that is. He was looking at me. I gave him a wink, and was rewarded by the way his smile deepened, warming me to my toes. I might look like a pineapple piñata in a borrowed dress, but Joe didn't seem to mind.
Debbie was glowing, trembling on the arm of my Uncle John as he walked her down the aisle. I shot a glance at Dale where he stood at the altar, a band of white showing on his forehead where his hat usually rode. The pants of his rented tuxedo were hemmed too short, and the sleeves too long, but he was beaming as he watched Debbie come toward him.
The church organ was only slightly off-key. I risked a glance at Evan, not surprised to find him clutching at Butch's arm, a bit dewey-eyed as he watched the bride. I was quite familiar with his fairytale visions of me in white and him in Armani—we'd talked about our ideal weddings since we were kids in junior high school.
Evan caught me looking at him, but he just arched a blond eyebrow, then turned his gaze back to the altar.
A lump rose in my throat as Uncle John said the words that gave Debbie away, placing her hand in Dale's.
My dad would never get a chance to do that. He and my mom had died together on that wet stretch of road seven years earlier. It was my only comfort, knowing they'd died as they'd lived, together.
I missed them so much.
And then it was time for the vows, which I only half-listened to. My attention was distracted by a shaft of light that came through the stained glass window over the altar. Dust motes sparkled, twisting and spinning, and then there she was—though no one could see her but me.
Michelle, dry and smiling, come to watch her best friend get married.
Her form was vague, indistinct, wavering like a mirage in the beam of light that carried her. I knew what it must cost her to fight the pull of the Light, to anchor herself here for however long it took to see Debbie wed.
But she did, and when it was over, when the "I do's" had both been said, she turned to me with a smile and mouthed, "Thank you."
To my eyes, Michelle looked like she did that day in the bridal shop, before she knew she was dead—young and carefree and smiling. I gave her a little nod, then jerked my chin toward the stained glass window, trying hard not to cry.
Time to get going, ghoulfriend.
Then she was gone, and the recessional march was playing, and we all stood up to watch Debbie and her redneck prince leave the church in triumph.
The reception was held right there at the church, in a big meeting room right off the kitchen. Dale and Debbie danced their first dance to "Can You Feel The Love Tonight," and the funny thing was, I did. The way they looked at each other was really sweet, and I even dared hope that they'd be happy together.
Maybe their particular litter of little rednecks wouldn't be so bad.
My Aunt Nadine and Uncle John were both beaming; flower girl Brittany had forgotten her tantrum and was being chased around the tables by her sister Amber; Donna and Diane squabbled amiably over how much rum was needed to thoroughly spike the punch.
"Aren't you going to introduce me to your friends, Nicki?" Darlene had stopped by our table with a plateful of food from the buffet. She'd already met Joe—I'd introduced him after he'd waited patiently in the front pew during our interminable post-wedding photo session. Now she was eyeing both Evan and Butch with interest.
"Yes, this is my partner, Evan Owenby," I said, patting Evan fondly on the arm. "And this is his partner, Butch." I leaned in toward Darlene, remembering what she'd said to me at the shower, and stage-whispered, "That's what we're supposed to be calling it these days."
To her credit, Darlene just cut her eyes at me and laughed, extending a hand to Evan and Butch in turn. "I'm Darlene," she said, "Nicki's favorite cousin."
"Have a seat, Darlene." Joe rose, pulling out a chair for my cousin like the gentleman he usually was. "Join us."
And to my surprise, she did. We were laughing and chatting with surprising ease, when Debbie came over to our table, flushed and happy.
"I have got to sit down," she said, fanning herself with a hand. "I need to catch my breath."
Evan leapt up before Joe did and pulled out a chair for her. "You sit right next to me," he said gallantly, "and tell me all the details about your bee-yoo-tiful wedding. Love the dress. Who did the catering?"
I saw Butch's arm move toward Evan, and knew they were holding hands beneath the table. Both men listened, spellbound, as Debbie held court, while Joe and I exchanged smiles.
Barely a minute passed before my Aunt Nadine came bustling over. "Don't get too comfortable, sweetie. It's almost time to cut the cake," she said to Debbie. Glancing around, she added distractedly, "I can't believe Michelle isn't here. Even if you two had a little spat, surely she could've made it to the reception."
"It's okay, Mom," Debbie said cheerfully. "She's with us in spirit."
Darlene froze, fork halfway to her mouth, but I bit back another smile, knowing what was coming.
"I got a text message from her last night," Debbie went on. "She was really sorry for acting like such a bi—" Debbie caught herself, shooting her mother a guilty glance. Apparently getting married didn't change the normal mother/daughter dynamic. "Like such a twit. She apologized, and we're cool, but she was too embarrassed to face everybody after bailing on me at the last minute."
Darlene couldn't help herself. She lowered her fork and asked, "Are…are you sure it was Michelle?"
"Of course it was her; my cellphone has caller ID. Besides, who else would it be, silly?" Debbie grinned at her sister. "Michelle was probably worried that somebody might make a scene."
Darlene gasped in outrage, ready to spit fire, but she just happened to catch my eye, and subsided. Instead, she took a big bite of potato salad, chewing determinedly, a fixed look on her face.
"Well," Aunt Nadine said, sounding doubtful, "I'm just surprised, that's all. It's not like Michelle to miss something as big as this—she's your best friend."
"It's okay," Debbie said, rising to her feet with a smile on her face. "Michelle and I are good. We'll kiss and make up in person when Dale and I get back from our honeymoon. Now let's go cut the cake."