The Wedding

He is the half part of a blessed man
Left to be finished by such as she:
And she a fair divided excellence
Whose fulness of perfection lies in him.
William Shakespeare

Chapter II

"What? How can we get married, without one?" Patrick was stunned.

"We can, Patrick. We just need someone licensed to say the words over us and sign the certificate after we take the vows. We can get married at the courthouse. By a justice of the peace. We can call a rent-a-preacher and get married right here."

"I see what you're sayin', but…that seems such a cold way to do it, Angel," he protested slowly. "Not like the Margaret I know at all. What about our friends and family bein' there to share our happiness? What about Andrew Carpenter, won't he be hurt if we have anyone else say those words over us? What about you, in a lovely white dress, walkin' down the aisle to me, waitin' at the altar for you? Margaret—why don't you want those things with me?" he asked plaintively.

Marty felt tears prick her eyes. Oh, damn, she thought in frustration, this is going to be even harder than I expected.  "It's not that I don't want them with you, Patrick," she tried to explain. "It's just that…I've already had them.  Every one of them. And look what happened. I ended up making the biggest mistake of my entire life, and I put three people, most of all you and Dylan, through hell. Do you think I want to go through another wedding like that one?"

"But aren't all weddings like that? You just had what everyone has—" he began.

"No—no, please listen to me, Patrick. They might be like that on the surface, but I hope they're not like it underneath.  What I learned from that wedding is a lesson I won't repeat with you. I learned that the reason I had to have such a big deal wedding was to convince the whole town that I was in love with Dylan, and that maybe, just maybe, if everyone else believed it, I would believe it, too. I had myself fooled that it was the real thing, with a wedding to prove it—but in my heart of hearts, I knew it was all for show. Patrick, with you…I don't need or want to prove anything. There's nothing to prove, and I don't want to tempt fate. We might as well already be married as far as I'm concerned, we just need to make it legal." After she finished her speech, Marty looked at him anxiously.

As her words sank in, Patrick realized with a sense of overwhelming relief that she did want to marry him, it was only a matter of how they did it. The trappings might be nice to have, he supposed, but to say they were of even secondary importance was to give them more than their due. He didn't really care about them.  

Just as Marty had wanted the whole town there to witness her make a commitment to Dylan, though, he wanted to stand up in front of the whole world and announce that he, Patrick, would love, honor, and cheearer, while they were getting dressed, Marty to go to the hospital and Patrick to perform another secret errand, a reasonable question occurred to her. "Patrick, in all the plans you're making, have you thought about clothes?  I mean, can you give me even a clue about what I'm supposed to wear the day we get married? Will it be hot or cold?"

He grinned. "Of course I've given it a thought or two, Angel. You're leavin' it all in my hands, aren't you?"

"But—"

Patrick stopped buttoning his shirt and walked over to Marty, standing by the closet in her slip and bra. He cupped her face in his hands and pressed his lips against hers. "No buts," he whispered. Then a wicked light appeared in his eyes. "Just lips…and tongues…right now. That's all there's time for, or you'll be late for work."

The kiss made Marty forget any more questions as she kissed him back, and in the end, she had to scramble to get out the door on time. After that, she knew she wasn't going to get any information out of Patrick, no matter how much she wheedled.  But that didn't stop her from trying, since he had such enjoyable ways of changing the subject.

End of Chapter II | Go to Chapter III