“I have some of Wisconsin’s waterfalls mapped,” I suggest. “Might be cool to get married in front of a waterfall.”
“Or on a scenic trail. Plenty of those around here.”
“If we’re going to get married on a scenic trail, we might as well just get married in our own backyard,” I joke. Then we both freeze and stare at each other, because it’s perfect.
“Why is that not the first place we thought of?” Nicholas says wonderingly.
“Right?” I’m dumbfounded that it’s taken us this long. “The pretty trees. The pond. Imagine the barn in the background, all those icicles coming down. And snow everywhere! Oh, it’ll be a fairy tale.”
“Walking to our honeymoon will take thirty seconds. Free lodgings. We won’t have to pack.”
“Yes.” I clap. “Yes, yes, yes.”
“And to think, we were considering getting on a plane and flying all the way to Juneau to stand on a glacier and be just as cold as we are here. And we own the venue!” He swings a look at me and grins. “Naomi, we’re getting married.”
We pass the Junk Yard, and I crank around in my seat to peer out the back windshield. “Wait! Turn around.”
“What? Why?”
I pat his arm repeatedly. “Turn around, turn around!”
“You turn around first, crazy lady, and then I will.” He reverses in a driveway. “Where are we going?”
“Right here.” I point at the Junk Yard. There are two cars out front—Leon’s and Mr. Howard’s. I don’t know right away why we needed to turn around, but I know it, and wait for the reason to catch up to me. My instincts were right, because I remember:
“My old boss, Melvin, is an ordained minister.”
Nicholas parks and stares at me. “Seriously?”
I’m so excited, I can’t speak. All I can do is nod. It’s not a Monday, it’s not morning, and opportunity knocks. Mr. Howard walks out of the shop carrying the sign from above the register, It’s the little things, and stops when he sees me. I wave, opening my passenger door.
“Hey! Do you have a minute?”
The best weddings are surprise weddings. I had no idea when I woke up this morning that I’d be getting married today, and I hope it’s a sign. I hope our marriage is full of spontaneous surprises like this one, and plan Cs that go spectacularly right.
I dig through the closet of what’s going to be a guest bedroom, now that I’m not sleeping in it anymore. Every article of clothing I own is swallowing the bed or scattered all over the floor. What do you wear to a spontaneous backyard wedding?
My nicest dress is sleeveless and about as thin as tissue paper. I’d turn into a Popsicle.
I try on a sweater and immediately rip it off. I try to layer a turtleneck and leggings under a different dress, but they don’t mesh well. “How’s it going?” Nicholas calls through the door. I bet it took him fifteen seconds to get dressed, the heathen.
“I have nothing to wear!”
“Go naked, then.”
I throw a shoe at the door and he laughs. “Hurry up!” he says. “I want to marry you.”
“Hush, go away. I love you.”
“I love you, too. See you on the other side.”
I hear the staircase creak as he heads downstairs, and resist the temptation to look out the window and see if he’s out there yet. I open the door, thinking to tiptoe into our bedroom and plow through his wardrobe in search of something better to wear, but step in a puddle of fabric laid in front of the door.
Coveralls. I pick them up and shake them out. They’re mine, the smaller of the pair. They’re practical and they’re not much to look at, but if you’re going to be standing outside in seventeen-degree weather reciting your vows, layers aren’t a bad idea. I smile and yank them on over ordinary clothes. Then I yell for Brandy, who bounds up the stairs with a hairbrush and curling iron. Brandy is one of the exceptions to our no-guests rule, since she’s positive and respectful of our choices and won’t cast a shadow on our day.
“Ready?” she asks happily.
“Good luck. You’re going to need it.”
“Oh, shush. You have nice hair.” She shoves me into a chair and begins to fuss with my bangs, which have grown out a smidge. Nicholas thinks he doesn’t like bangs, which goes to show he doesn’t know what he’s talking about, since he keeps falling in love with me whenever I have bangs.
She gives me a crown braid that I never could have pulled off arranging myself, and when she’s finished I’m pleasantly surprised by the Naomi who blinks back at me in the mirror. My hair is actually pretty darn cute. “Stunning,” she says, hugging me as she hops up and down. “Here, I brought you this.” She opens her palm and shows me a breath mint.
“Wow, thanks so much,” I reply dryly.
“It’s my wedding present to Nicholas. Girl, no one wants to kiss a quesadilla.”
I pop the mint and swipe on simple lip balm for a finishing touch. Leon, the other exception to our no-guests rule, is waiting downstairs. Mr. Howard must already be outside with Nicholas.
“Your husband-to-be made this for you,” Leon says, handing me a bouquet of snipped evergreen branches. I hold them to my nose and twirl.
“How do I look?” I pose for them.
“Like you’re gonna go spray somebody’s crawl space for termites,” he says.
“Excellent. That’s what I was going for.”
Brandy offers me her arm, which I accept. I thought Brandy was here to be my maid of honor, but evidently she’s going to be giving me away. “You ready?”
“I’m beyond ready. Need to go lock that man down before he gets any ideas and escapes.”
We all walk out the back door into lavender twilight, picking our steps carefully down the snowy hillside. There’s no aisle. There are no flocks of bridesmaids or groomsmen, no flower arrangements, no flash of a photographer. It’s as far from St. Mary’s as you could get.
The forest retreats into a black smudge, cold air rushing into my lungs. The man I love is waiting for me at the pond’s edge, and I feel his pulse as if it’s my own. My senses kaleidoscope, collecting pictures and scents and sounds to preserve until my dying day. I’ve been holding my breath since the second I met him; how strange now, to exhale at last. Breathing will never feel the same again.
I’m sure the scenery is lovely, but it dawns on me that it doesn’t matter where we are. Nicholas could be standing in a storm, a desert, a vacuum. I wouldn’t know the difference, because he’s all I see.
He hits me with a smile so beautiful that it swells me with more emotion than can fit inside my body. The word love feels like Nicholas. It’s filled all the way up with him. One day that word will evolve, filling up with the people we bring into this world together. I can’t wait to see what kind of magic we spin with that word, how many shapes it will take. I can’t wait to see how many memories emerge from our decision to stand right here, right now, and take each other for better or worse. As far as that goes, I say: bring it on.
We already know each other’s worst. We’ve battled right through it and come out the other side unbreakable. There will inevitably be arguments, concessions, and peace treaties drawn up in spilled blood, sweat, and tears. We’re going to have to choose each other, over and over, and be each other’s champion, never letting ourselves forget the good whenever we’re stuck in a patch of bad. It’s going to be work. But let me tell you something about Nicholas Benjamin Rosefield: