With Beth’s absence the room became uncomfortably quiet, but I didn’t feel alone. I looked down to my stomach. Bean was invisible, nestled under the fabric of the dress I would wear to marry her father. I placed both of my hands above my bump, and smiled. Would Bean know he or she was a guest at our wedding? The thought of a tiny body inside of me with a fancy dress or tux on made me giggle.

“What’s funny?” Cynthia said as she entered the room. “Certainly not the sight of you. You’re a vision.” I smiled and stood so that she might get a better look. “I’ve arranged for a car. Well, not so much a car as a beat-up truck, but it will get us to the chapel.”

“I wondered how I would get there and keep my dress white.”

Cynthia frowned. “I didn’t say it wouldn’t be difficult. I’ve considered wrapping you in plastic. It will take all of us along with a concentrated effort, but it can be done.”

“Thank you,” I smiled. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

Again, a deluge of emotion caught Cynthia off-guard, and she furiously searched through her purse for a tissue. Before the first tear could pour over her lashes, she dabbed it away. “I’ve never,” she said, annoyed. “I hope this doesn’t continue throughout the day.”

I rested in the chair and Cynthia sat on the bed, seeming uncomfortable and out of place, yet she remained cordial and poised. She brought up appropriate subjects such as the weather, and stayed far away from anything that might induce another onslaught of tears. We shared a few polite laughs, and I silently prayed that Beth would return sooner rather than later.

“Ding dong!” Bex said, opening the door. “The truck is less than a mile away. You ready?”

“Something like that,” I sighed.

Beth popped in behind Bex. Her smile lit up the room. She was stunning in her French blue cocktail dress, and for the first time since I’d met her, she actually looked like the former beauty queen that she was. Her lips were stained a wine color, and her short auburn hair was wavy and soft instead of sticking out in every direction. “Oh, good!” Beth squealed as the engine grew louder upon the truck’s approach. “It’s like a Bronco! It has a back seat!”

“That’s nice,” I said, minding my mother’s expression as I gathered my skirt.