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Making sure I’m facing away from the wind, I gingerly open the box, lift out the bag, and open the small perforation. I hold it aloft, and ashes fly out of it, catching on the wind and whipping across the water.
I save half of her for myself and secure the bag inside the box, returning it to my backpack.
Unceremoniously, I look up at Josh, whose eyebrows are knit together. “Alrighty. Let’s go,” I say.
He rests a hand on my shoulder to stop me, and I see his face etched in worry.
I’m about to ask him what’s wrong, but suddenly my throat is blocked and all that comes out of me is a great, chest-heaving sob.
“There it is,” he murmurs, pulling me in close, wrapping his arms around me until I have no tears left.
And this, among the hundred other ways he has guarded me, strived to understand me, and loved me unconditionally, is why I’m someday, somewhere, going to marry the funny, gangly kid who was my first kiss.
Epilogue
One year later
Penny
All of the guests at our wedding seem confused about why Joshua and I are getting married at a small fishing resort on Lake Huron at the end of a rickety wooden dock, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.
I have my dad and stepmom here, Joshua has his mom and grandparents. Gretchen and Matthew have since become great friends of ours, so they’re here with their kids to witness the nuptials. Aside from the fact that this is their resort, they are solely responsible for bringing us together.
The tugboat captain from across the channel, it turns out, is ordained to perform weddings. This officiant is a no-nonsense sort of fellow and Joshua and I are declared married after what seems like the quickest ceremony in history.
After we share our first kiss as husband and wife, Joshua makes me yelp by picking me up in his arms and carrying me over his shoulder toward the reception on the shoreline.
The keg is tapped, the campfire is lit, and there are enough hot dogs and bratwursts to choke a bull moose.
My dad is so happy for us he almost has my stepmom overlooking many details that would normally horrify her at a wedding, namely the tugboat captain entertaining the children with terrible tales of shipwrecks. And fart jokes. Lots of fart jokes.
Instead of cake, we have splurged on hiring a local dairy to bring one of its trucks to scoop out ice cream in every flavor imaginable. Instead of the ceremonial cake cutting, Joshua feeds me vanilla praline, and I feed him his favorite, rum raisin.
When everyone is properly toasted, and children are being carried off to wash the campfire smell out of their hair, Joshua has a surprise for me in our cabin.
In the bedroom, hanging on the hook on the wall is an E
dwardian-style dress. I’m confused by this, but I put it on anyway and check myself in the mirror.
“Let me see you in your dress,” Joshua says through the door. “Just a minute,” I say. “This is even fancier than my wedding dress, you know. This calls for a Gibson girl top knot.” I pin up my hair. It’s not perfect, but it’ll do.
When I come out of the bathroom, Joshua is standing there in front of me in a tan pinstripe suit from the same era, complete with a pocket watch and a bowler hat. “Joshua, what in the world have you done?”
“M’lady,” he says, offering me his arm. “Your getaway vessel awaits.”
By the time we check into the Somewhere In Time themed room at the Grand Hotel on Mack Island, I am sobbing my eyes out. All my makeup is ruined.
The room is even more beautiful than the photos I’ve seen of it. The vintage blue wallpaper, lush red fabrics, and an enormous bed that’s fit for royalty.
Josh holds me against his hard chest, my body still heaving sobs. “I never imagined my wedding night would include this many tears,” he teases, edging me out of my overwhelmed state.
He lets me go long enough to fetch me some water to drink. He hands it to me and says, “Here, you’d better hydrate.”
I laugh and dab my eyes, then take the glass and drink it down. “I’m not taking the dress off. So you’ll just have to dick me in it, husband.”
“Damn, I love you,” he growls, taking the empty glass from me and plonking it down hard on one of the many antique surfaces in this room. For a moment, I wonder if the furniture here can handle us. When my man turns back to me with the expression of a hungry bear, attacking my mouth with deep, frantic kisses, all thought about the fancy furniture flies out the window. The tears are gone and I’m mewing with desire.
His fingers fan out over my ass cheeks, and I can’t get enough of it, moaning my appreciation into his mouth.
