Wade stood by the brass railing, holding a small navy velvet ring box in his right hand.

I took my place facing Margaret and held both her cool, thin hands in mine.

“We don’t need the whole service,” Margaret whispered, her eyes bright despite the dark shadows under them.

“Just the real part.”

I touched the brass wedding band on my left hand for a moment before reaching for her.

“Margaret,” I said, “I take you to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, in sickness and in health.”

She smiled softly, pressing her thumb into my palm.