Murmurs of delight ripple through the crowd as Odette strides seriously down the aisle wearing a dress that Jeanne has been working on for the last month. “Hand-smocking,” she called it, the bunched top scattered with embroidered pink and white rosebuds. Odette tosses white and pink petals from a basket, and when she joins Mamie at the front, she asks in a whisper loud enough for all to hear, “How did I do?”

“Very well, my cabbage,” Mamie reassures her, pulling her granddaughter in to stand next to her. Then, looking back, she puts her hand to her mouth and her eyes well with tears.

I turn to see what she’s witnessed.

The entire congregation breathes in all at once. I can’t breathe. I reach blindly for Siaka’s hand, find it, and squeeze the hell out of it so I won’t burst out crying. I’m not normally a crier. But watching those three figures walk down the aisle, arm-in-arm, almost melts me into a puddle of tears.

In the center of the group is Kate’s grandfather, Papy, with noble nose and full head of cotton-white hair. I’ve met him a couple of times in the last month. He’s stopped by with Mamie to see Odette and pulled me aside to express his gratefulness for my part in saving his great-granddaughter. The crooks of his arms accommodate the hands of his granddaughters. The three of them pace in time to the music.

Georgia’s strawberry blond pixie cut is grown out long enough to curl up at the sides. Her hair is topped with a wreath of white poppies. Her light-gold dress is straight out of The Great Gatsby. Floor-length. Satin. Sleeveless. Dipping at the neck and draping low in the back. A train in the same fabric spreads out behind her.

Kate wears the same dress, but in a light silvery color. Her long brown hair is curled in waves and crowned with a wreath of brightly-colored flowers. She looks like a goddess of springtime or nature or beauty. Maybe all three.

They all beam as they stride down the aisle.

Siaka leans over and whispers, “Find a man who looks at you like Vincent looks at Kate.”

I tear my eyes from the brides to look at the grooms, and see that Vincent is transformed. I’ve often seen him gaze at Kate with an expression of awe and surprise, as if he can’t believe he’s lucky enough to be with her. But this look beats them all. Maybe it’s because she’s making The Statement in front of everyone.

She chooses him.

I shift my gaze to Arthur. As he watches Georgia walk toward him, he looks as though he’s about to burst out in tears. I have to look away so I won’t do the same.

“This is my first wedding,” I whisper to Siaka. “Are they all this emotional?”