It was my turn to walk down the aisle, then my sister would follow. My mother was walking Jules down the aisle. My mother held a small, handsome photo of my father so he could walk his daughter down the aisle, too, which made me get all emotional, but I have a feeling that the doors of heaven open up for occasions like this. Henry Lindsay would be watching, and he would see it all.

I winked at Marco on my way down the aisle, then stood at the front of the gazebo and turned around to see Jules, my best friend, my love-sister.

The music changed from rock and roll to a traditional wedding song.

Jules was resplendent. Her wedding dress was white, lacy, and sleeveless, so her shoulders were bare. The layered skirt came to midthigh so her black knee-high leather boots with silver sequins at the top made quite an entrance. She wore her long blonde hair loose like a Viking with a black JULES AND MACK FOREVER headband. A white lace veil was attached to the headband, which created a five-foot train that fluttered in the wind.

She was naturally exquisite.

When she appeared at the end of the aisle, everyone stood, gasped, and started cheering for her. My mother cried next to her, Jules cried. I cried. My aunts cried, even practical Aunt Iris. Mack, dressed in his black leathers with a black bow tie, his arms outstretched at the end of the aisle, had tears racing down his cheeks. “Come on down, my apple pie! I’m waiting for you!” he boomed.

“I’m coming, baby,” Jules called back. “I’m coming!”

Whew. What a day.

The wedding was everything Jules and Mack wanted. Mack’s best childhood friend, Jay Dove Boy, in his leathers, led the solemn vow ceremony where they promised to be loyal, kind, and devoted and to ride their motorcycles as they explored life and love together until death did they part. A band played a blend of rock/disco/old-time dance music. Everyone loved wearing their own black leather JULES AND MACK FOREVER headbands. It seemed to give everyone a new “wild and rockin’” mentality and the party boomed. The barbeque went over deliciously well.

The cake was made by the Bommarito sisters in Trillium River. It was a three-layer cake painted with exact replicas of the motorcycles that Jules and Mack rode. But on the top layer, using who knew what, they had made two edible motorcycles, exactly patterned off of Jules’s and Mack’s favorite motorcycles, with Jules and Mack on top. Jules’s blonde hair was flying behind her, and they were in their leathers.

The beer and wine flowed like a river. There was dancing and laughing and toasts. The woman they hired to paint fake tattoos on guests was extremely talented.