Chapter 11 - We Stood Where the Vows Were Supposed to Go
The doors in the back didn't close quiet. They thumped and then the daylight from the lobby cut in for a second and then was gone, and everybody turned at once to look at us coming back down the aisle.
I kept my eyes on Daddy. I didn't look at the rows. I could feel them looking anyway, the way you feel heat from a vent. My arms were getting tired under her. She was warm and heavy against my cardigan and her pink blanket kept slipping off her shoulder, so I hitched her up higher and tucked it back with my chin while we walked.
Daddy walked a half-step in front of me. He didn't hold my hand. His hand hovered back by my elbow like he wanted to steer me without grabbing me. The marble was loud under his shoes. Mine didn't make any noise.
When we got to the front, the lady with the veil was already up by the flowers. She wasn't standing where she'd stood before. She'd moved over by the side of the arch, near the white stand with the tall lilies, her arms down tight at her sides. Her veil had caught on her shoulder and parted crooked. She didn't fix it.
The man in the long robe was still there by the center with the little book open in his hands. He looked at Daddy, then at me, then back at Daddy. Someone coughed in the third row.
Daddy stopped at the bottom step and turned to face everybody. I stopped with him. I shifted so the baby was a little behind his leg, away from the aisle. From the side I could see little white flashes popping near the back — phones. I turned my shoulder in and cupped my hand around the back of her head so the light wouldn't hit her face. She stirred and made that soft snuffle against my dress and then settled.
He cleared his throat. It sounded too loud in the mic, even though he wasn't wearing one. The speakers picked up something.
"Folks," he said. His voice cracked on the first word and he stopped and tried again. "Folks, I'm sorry. I know this isn't — this isn't how this was supposed to go."
Nobody said anything. The chandeliers ticked a little above us, or maybe that was just my ears.
He glanced down at me for half a second. His eyes went to the baby and then back up to the guests. "We've had a family emergency come up. Just now. With these girls here. I need to ask for your patience while we — while we sort out what they need."
A murmur went through the rows. A woman in a blue hat whispered something to the man next to her. In the back somebody stood up a little to see better and then sat again.
"We're going to pause for a few minutes," Daddy said. "Please just — please stay seated for a moment."
He looked toward the front, toward her. "Will you come stand —"
"No."
She didn't move from the arch. Her hands were fists now. The flowers behind her were so white they looked blue in the daylight from the tall windows. She stared straight out at the guests, not at him, not at me.
"I am not standing up there for pictures like nothing happened," she said. Her voice was flat and carried. "You address them."
A few people turned to look at her. The man in the robe closed his book halfway with his thumb holding his place.
Daddy nodded once, quick. A muscle moved in his jaw. He turned back to the guests. "I understand this is uncomfortable," he said. "I'm not going to get into private details here in front of — in front of everyone. I just need a little time to make sure the kids are safe. That's all I'm asking for."
The flashes went off again near the left side. I bent my head down over the baby and pulled the blanket edge up to shade her eyes. My hair fell forward and made a curtain. I could smell the lotion from this morning still on her knit top and the clean church smell underneath.
"Hey," Daddy said, a little sharper. He held his hand up, palm out. "No photos, please. Please. They're minors."
The lights stopped. One more went off late and then stopped too.
The man in the robe stepped forward then. He put his hand lightly on Daddy's sleeve and leaned in close enough that I heard, even though he tried to keep it low.
"Son, do you want me to suspend?" he asked.
Daddy didn't answer right away. He looked at the bride by the arch. She shook her head once, small, and looked away toward the windows.
"Yes," Daddy said. "Please suspend the vows. For now. Until we resolve this privately."
The man nodded like he'd expected it. He turned to the guests and raised both hands a little, the book still in one.
"Friends and family," he said, steady and practiced, "in light of an urgent family matter, we're going to suspend the ceremony at this point. No vows will be taken at this time. I'm going to ask the ushers to show you to the lobby where there's refreshments, and we'll update you shortly. Thank you for your grace and understanding."
For a beat nobody moved. Then chairs scraped. A man in the front row stood and buttoned his jacket. The ushers in their gray suits started up the side aisles, waving people toward the back doors. The talking started low and then got louder, purses zipping, programs folding.
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We just stood there while they filed out around us. I kept watching Daddy. He kept watching the aisle, nodding at people as they passed, his hand still half-back to keep me close. The bride didn't move from the arch. She didn't look at any of them. The daylight kept coming through the tall windows in long bars across the marble, and dust floated in it over our shoes.
The last door thumped shut, and the chapel went quiet again.
