The guests rose from their chairs and turned toward the aisle in happy anticipation, and Brenda, hearing her cue, tried to pull herself back together, smoothing her veil, reaching for control of the moment.

She reached out and caught my arm, and put on a desperate, coaxing smile.

“Chris,” she said, low and urgent, “we are both just tired, and stressed, and everything feels enormous right now.

Let’s just walk down this aisle, and finish the ceremony, and then we can handle these little family issues privately, later, like mature adults.

Please.”

I took a large step backward and drew my arm completely out of her grasp.

“There is not going to be a ceremony today, Brenda.” The words came out quiet and final, and I felt, as I said them, none of the panic I might have expected.