[December 20, 1989]

Tami wore a simple but attractive white dress, and Eric donned a black suit for their hobbled-together wedding. A few elegant and colorful flowers adorned the altar, courtesy of the Lady's Altar Guild, and Tami carried a tasteful bouquet as she walked down the burgundy carpeted aisle, between the thinly populated wooden pews of the historic chapel, to her groom.

The congregation was small, with a few churchgoers who came to every wedding and funeral, Mr. and Mrs. Taylor, Tami's mother and sister, Eric's aunt and uncle, and a handful of friends. It struck Tami how very small, yet how surprisingly supportive, both of their extended families were.

Eric and Tami repeated the words they were spoon fed by Pastor John. Tami even said, "love, honor, and obey," though she didn't like the obey part, but she'd never had the courage to tell Pastor John she wanted that part of the vows altered.

Eric looked a little pale to her, and she could see a few beads of sweat on his brow. His suit was no doubt heavy; it was a flukish, 70 degree December Texas day, and the chapel had no fans or air conditioning – only the large, front, wooden doors remained propped open – but she didn't think that was what made him sweat. He looked happy and nervous, terrified and proud all at once, and she wanted nothing more than to escape the ceremony and be alone with him, to hold and be held by him, to feel the comfort of his arms in some private place.

Pastor John kept the wedding sermon short, much shorter than his assistant had when he and Mom had married. Eric and Tami exchanged simple gold wedding bands.

The cake and punch reception that followed in the fellowship hall only lasted a little over an hour, and there was no dancing, not at First Baptist church. Nor was there alcohol, but they could not have afforded it anyway. Pastor John and Mr. Taylor offered thoughtful toasts with sparkling apple cider.

Pastor John recalled the Corinthians passage on love, emphasizing the line "love keeps no record of wrongs." He told them, "Never keep score. You aren't in competition. You're a team. You're young and in love now, but the days are coming when you'll need more tolerance and compassion and forgiveness for one another than you can at this moment imagine."

Mr. Taylor admitted, "I'm in no position to give marriage advice. I haven't been married long myself." He smiled at Karen before returning his attention to the couple that stood beside him, flutes in hand. "But I've tried to raise my son to be an honorable man, and I hope he proves that for you, Tami." He raised his glass to her. "Early on, when Eric started dating you, you struck me as a young lady who is loyal and supportive and who puts her family first."

I did? Tami wondered as she stood with her flute in one hand and her arm around Eric's waist.

Mr. Taylor continued his toast: "Eric's lucky to have your support, to have someone to lean on, and he may lean hard. I hope you'll let him. That's a gift not every man receives."

Throughout the reception, Joey hit the punch and cake hard, while Sarah made the rounds among the few other high school friends who were there. Stumpy and Gretchen hovered together in a corner, offering each other commentary on the oddness and simplicity of the wedding, no doubt. Stumpy looked surprisingly handsome in a suit and tie ("He cleans up nice," Gretchen told Tami). Gretchen herself had opted for a long sleeve dress that hid her tattoos. She looked, Stumpy said, "shockingly conventional. Almost glamorous," for which he was rewarded by Gretchen with a light smack on his cheek, which only caused him to grin and wink.

As Tami left, beneath a small crowd of blowing bubbles instead of rice, she performed the traditional bouquet toss. She lobbed the flowers in the general direction where Sarah and Gretchen and Shelley stood. No girl reached out for it. In fact, all three stepped back, and the bouquet fell lifelessly to the concrete sidewalk.

As Mom tsked, Pastor John forced his smirk into a frown. Shelley snorted. Mr. Taylor chuckled, and Mrs. Karen Taylor said, "I felt that way just a few years ago, but things can change." She slipped her arm around her husband's waist, and he put an arm around her shoulders.

"Two new Mrs. Taylors in the space of a year," Mr. Taylor said. "Whoever would have predicted such a thing?"

[*]

The honeymoon would consist of three nights at a beach resort in Galveston, courtesy of a gift certificate provided as a wedding present by Eric's aunt and uncle. The weather was delightful when they arrived, in the high 60s, and sunny.

Eric called her "his bride" that night when he made love to her in the queen-sized bed, the window slightly open, the curtain billowing in the winter breeze, and the scents of the gulf tickling their noses. At least they didn't need condoms for the time being.

"You feel so good," Eric whispered while he moved inside her.

She moaned softly. He was being so much more tender than usual. She didn't know if it was because it was their wedding night, or because she was pregnant, but she needed that tenderness tonight, to ease away her fears for the future.

Afterwards, he lay with his hand on her bare stomach. "How big is it now?" he asked.

She held her fingers less than an inch apart.

"That's tiny," he said, and looked down at her stomach. She wasn't showing yet, but much to her dismay she had gained five pounds already.

"Well there's other stuff in there, too. Didn't you take biology in high school?"

"Yeah." He leaned down and kissed her stomach. "But I forget the details."

"I gave you that book to read," she said.

"I'm going to read it," he promised. "Tomorrow. On the beach."

Maybe he shouldn't read it. It was scary. It told you all the things that could go wrong. For instance, she was worried she hadn't had any morning sickness yet, because the book had said morning sickness was actually a good sign. She sure needed to pee more often, though, so she supposed she was ahead of schedule for that. And the cravings…red meat. She felt like a lion in the jungle some nights.

"It's heart should be beating by now," she said.

"Really? Already?" he asked, wide-eyed.

She smiled. "Yeah."

"That must be a tiny heart."

"Well, if it's anything like yours," she said, "I think it must be a very big heart." She kissed him.

He settled his head next to hers. "I love you," he said. "It's gonna be a'ight. Everything's gonna be a'ight."

She didn't know if he was reassuring her or himself.