Then she led me onto the deck.
White daisies were everywhere.
They filled glass jars.
Decorated the railings.
And surrounded the little wooden aisle between the chairs.
Soft lights hung overhead.
Beyond the deck stretched the old dock.
The same dock where Mark had told me twenty-seven years earlier that he intended to marry me.
Our family and closest friends were waiting.
Dave.
Tommy.
Ray.
My sister and her husband.
Several longtime family friends.
Pastor Jim, who’d married us the first time.
And Sophie, standing in a yellow dress with tears already running down her cheeks.
At the end of the aisle stood Mark.
He wore a dark gray suit.
His hair was neatly combed.
His hands were clasped nervously in front of him.
When he saw me, his entire face changed.
He looked at me the way he’d looked at me on our wedding day.
As though I were the only person in the world.
