“Come with me.”
Margaret led me down a hallway and into a small civil ceremony room.
Against the wall stood a wooden wedding arch.
I recognized it immediately.
“This is where Larry and I got married.”
“I know.”
I turned toward her.
“You were here?”
“No.”
She walked toward a cabinet.
“But Larry was here the afternoon before.”
I stared at her.
“Why?”
Margaret unlocked the bottom drawer.
“I asked him the same thing.”
She pulled out a thick binder and placed it on a table.
“He sat in that chair for almost an hour.”
She pointed toward a seat beside the arch.
“What did he want?”
“Nothing.”
Margaret smiled.
“He said he was nervous.”
I almost laughed.
“A man who worked around weddings for twenty-eight years was nervous about getting married?”
“That’s exactly what I said.”
She rested her hand on the binder.
“He stared at that arch and told me, ‘Tomorrow, I’m standing on the other side of the desk.’”
Suddenly, I remembered Larry’s shaking hands on our wedding day.
I had blamed the illness.
Maybe I had been watching something else entirely.
Margaret opened the binder.
“Look.”
Inside was an old marriage record.
Two names I didn’t recognize appeared at the top.
Near the bottom was a familiar signature.
Larry.
Next to his name was one word.
Witness.
Margaret turned the page.
Another couple.
Larry.
Witness.
Another page.
Different couple.
Different year.
Same signature.
Again.
Larry.
Witness.
I looked at Margaret.
“What is this?”
“Sometimes couples came in without anyone with them,” she explained. “Larry would leave his desk and sign as their witness.”
She turned another page.
“He hated the idea of someone getting married with nobody standing beside them.”
I ran my finger over one of his old signatures.
It was strange seeing Larry’s handwriting from decades before I knew him.
The same narrow L.
The same crooked y.
“How many times did he do this?”
Margaret shrugged.
“Hundreds, probably.”
She smiled.
“You’re acting like this is an actual wedding.”
For a moment, Larry had gone quiet.
Then he smiled.
“First marriage. Let me be nervous.”
I laughed then.
Sitting in that courthouse, I couldn’t.
Margaret took the chair beside me.
“Did Larry tell you why he wanted to marry you?”
“He gave me a reason.”
I explained the letter.
The story about burial arrangements.
His confession that he had made the situation sound more desperate because he knew I would help if there was a problem to solve.
Related Posts
