White chairs on the lawn, soft lights strung between wooden beams, wildflowers on an arbor facing the mountains.

And Hannah spent weeks choosing her pale-blue junior bridesmaid dress, practicing walking slowly with her flower basket, because she worried that excitement would make her scatter everything before she reached the aisle.

“Do you think I’ll walk too fast, Dad?” she asked me the night before.

“You’re going to do wonderfully, sweetheart,” I told her, smoothing her hair.

On the wedding morning, Pamela complimented her dress and kissed the top of her head.

“You look like a little princess today, Hannah,” she said softly.