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My wedding day arrived. I sat in a small room just off the altar of Holy Name. Mary Catherine and I were putting the kids to good use today. Brian was my best man. Trent, Eddie, and Ricky were the groomsmen and ushers. Juliana was the maid of honor. Jane, Bridget, and Fiona were bridesmaids. Shawna and Chrissy were the flower girl and ring bearer respectively. My grandfather, Seamus, would be the one to marry us.
Following tradition, I had not seen or spoken to Mary Catherine today. She and the girls had spent the night in a hotel. It was as close to a bachelorette party as Mary Catherine wanted.
The boys and I had had a pretty good bachelor party too. We’d continued the video game marathon that had been interrupted in the line of duty, and we also managed to eat six pizzas, drink eight liters of soda, and destroy a pile of chicken wings.
At the moment, Brian sat with me, and the other boys rotated to my side as their ushering duties allowed. They all looked extremely sharp in their tuxedos.
Sister Sheilah popped her head into the little room where we waited. She was in full habit but looked different somehow. Then I realized she was wearing makeup. Not a ton, but enough to change her look dramatically.
Sister Sheilah said, “It’s showtime. Your boys have seated all the guests, and your grandfather told me to get you moving.”
Brian and I stood together. He took a moment to straighten my tie and brush a microscopic piece of lint off my shoulder.
Then Sister Sheilah stepped forward. As a child, I’d been her student, and she’d also taught all ten of my children. In her eyes, I’d never grown up. Sheilah looked at me, giggled, and pinched me on the cheek, repeating the words she’d been saying for months: “I can’t believe our little Michael Bennett is getting married.”
Today, it was finally true.
She kissed me on
the forehead, and I received her blessing.
Brian and I took our positions at the front of the church. It was all I could do not to cry at the sight of my sons escorting their sisters down the aisle to take their places near the altar.
Chrissy followed, holding our rings, and Shawna dropped rose petals on the way to join us at the front of the church. This was a family event. Only Maeve was absent. I felt her looking down on me and smiling at the happiness she’d brought me and the kids by sending Mary Catherine.
The crowd was a sea of familiar faces. Harry Grissom sat next to Terri Hernandez. All the priests and nuns from the church intermingled with dozens of friends.
A movement flashed in the back corner of the church, and I craned my neck to see. It was Brett Hollis, sitting in a wheelchair, raising his arm in something between a wave and a salute. I was honored by his presence, even more so that he was accompanied by detectives from our squad—not his mother.
It was tough to keep the stupid grin off my face. Everything was great.
Then it got better. Almost to the point of fantasy.
The organist played the opening chords to the “Bridal Chorus”—“Here Comes the Bride.” Mary Catherine, dressed all in white, took her cue, appearing to float along the rose petals Shawna had tossed onto the carpeted aisle.
The veil covered her face, but I could tell she was beaming with joy. She touched hands with several people in the pews as she continued her graceful glide toward me.
She was so gorgeous, I barely noticed my grandfather walking her down the aisle. He looked sharp too. Dressed in his best vestments, he stood tall and walked with a determined pace, planting each foot carefully.
I felt the lump in my throat grow as a few tears started to leak out of my eyes and my hands trembled.
Then Mary Catherine stopped, joining me at the altar, and taking hold of both of my hands. The effect was instantaneous, as calming as a shot of a tranquilizer.
Things rolled quickly from there. I know my grandfather conducted the service, but I cannot recall a word of it. I don’t even remember reading the vows I had written and that Juliana and Jane had approved.
All that I remember—all that I will remember until I’m an old man—is lifting Mary Catherine’s veil and melting when I saw her beautiful porcelain face, yet with a pale spray of freckles, like any good Irish girl should have.
We kissed. Our first kiss as husband and wife. And then we were enveloped by a sea of children and an elderly priest. We stood in front of all of our friends, hugging like we’d never let go.
It was probably the best moment of my entire life.
