The Last Hour (46 page)

I sniffed. It already meant everything.
 

I took a breath and said, “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

She bounced on her feet in excitement and said, “I wish we could have just done a double wedding.”

“No. Tomorrow is all yours ... don’t even tell anyone. I’ll send out an email on Monday.”

Alexandra’s eyes widened. “You’re going to tell everybody by email?”

“I guess I could post the pictures on Facebook and let them figure it out?”

Her phone beeped, and she pulled it out of her purse. “Come on. They’re here.”

I checked my makeup one last time, then said, “Okay.” I don’t think she could hear me, because I was suddenly as scared as I’ve ever been in my life. Alexandra took my hand, then opened the dressing room door, and led me down the hall.
 

It was, of course, the City Clerk’s offices, but it couldn’t have been any grander if it was the biggest cathedral in Europe. Because standing at the end of the hall, waiting for me, was Ray. I walked, slowly, feeling as if I were floating, until I was face to face with him. His eyes widened as I approached.

He wore his dress uniform, dark blue, almost black. A blue knitted rope circled under his right shoulder and through the epaulet, and beneath that, over his pocket, were two rectangular ribbons. On his collar were two gold disks, one with the legend U.S., the other with the symbol of two crossed rifles. I recognized that, the crossed infantry rifles were on half of his t-shirts. Both gold disks were mounted on blue disks behind them.
 

On his left breast he wore one of the two decorations I recognized, the one he prized above all others: the Combat Infantryman’s Badge, a silver rifle mounted on a blue field with a circled wreath behind it. Below that, his medals: the Purple Heart ribbon, and next to that a bunch of others I didn’t know. I’d ask him later. The bright yellow Sergeant’s chevrons marked both arms. He wore white gloves.

I swallowed. I’d never seen Ray in his dress uniform. It was ... almost overpowering. I just ... wanted to touch him. Right now. I reached out, with both hands, and took his. He was smiling, and I was too.

A sweet lady from the city clerk’s office asked, “Would you like to get a couple of pictures before we get started?”

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. Alexandra gave a camera to the woman, who shot half a dozen pictures of the four of us, Dylan standing next to Ray, Alexandra beside me. Then she handed the camera back, and said, “Let’s get started then.”

I didn’t hear her next words, because my eyes were fixed on Ray. He was looking at me, his eyes wide and a soft smile on his lips, just barely revealing his teeth. I licked my lips, and, unconsciously I think, he did the same. I felt like I was swimming in his eyes.

I did catch it when the lady from the clerk’s office said, “Well then. Sergeant Raymond Calhoun Sherman, do you take Carrie Anne Adelina Thompson to be your lawful wedded wife?”

“I do,” he said, his voice tender.

“Do you promise to love, honor, cherish and protect her, forsaking all others and holding only unto her?”

“I do,” he said. And now he was smiling, a broad, happy smile, and his eyes were still fixed on mine.
 

My heart was thumping so loud they probably heard me three blocks away as she said, “Carrie Anne Adelina Thompson, do you take Raymond Calhoun Sherman as your lawful wedded husband?”

I couldn’t stop myself. Tears, big fat happy, wonderful tears, started rolling down my face. I was such a geek sometimes. “I do,” I said. My cheeks felt like rubber, I was smiling so widely.

“Do you promise to love, honor, cherish and protect him, forsaking all others and holding only unto him?”

I nodded, probably flinging little tears all over his uniform, and said, “Yes, I do.”

“Are you ready to say the vows you’ve written?”

We both nodded.

“Raymond, go ahead.”

He took a breath, and said, slowly, “Carrie, before these witnesses, I vow to love you and care for you as long as we both shall live. I take you, with all your strengths and weaknesses, as I offer my own strengths and weaknesses to you. I … will turn to you when I’m in need ... and will give help when you need it. I choose you as my partner, as the person with whom I’ll spend my life.”

And then he slipped a ring on my finger, next to the engagement ring he’d bought only yesterday.

By this time I couldn’t breathe, because tears were freely running down my face and my nose was getting clogged up. I sniffed, and then said, “Ray. Before these witnesses I vow to love you and care for you as long as we both live. I take you with all your strengths and weaknesses, and offer you my own. I will turn to you in need, and offer help when you need it. You’re my partner, the person with whom I choose to spend my life.”

I took his hand and pushed the ring onto his finger.
 

The clerk smiled and said, “Carrie and Ray, in so much as you have agreed to live together in matrimony, and have promised your love in front of these witnesses, by the power invested in me by the State of New York, I declare you to be husband and wife.”

I couldn’t stop crying! But then she said, “You may kiss the bride,” and Ray swept forward, his arms around me, and our lips touched, a perfect connection between us. I felt as light and as beautiful as I’d ever felt in my life. Everything in the room narrowed down to a tiny circle, a tiny protective circle, where the two of us were safe and warm and protected together.

A
s Dylan placed the ring on Alex’s finger,
I couldn’t help but glance past them to Carrie, who stood just opposite me in the Maid of Honor’s spot. Neither of us was wearing our rings, but she gave me a secret smile, and I knew what she was thinking, because I was too. She’d been right, of course. Despite all my worries, I knew we’d made the right decision.

I couldn’t help but wish, however, that I’d been able to give her this kind of ceremony. Saint Paul’s Chapel at Columbia University is a hundred and five year old pile of northern Italian Renaissance brick and masonry, absolutely beautiful. The chapel was packed with hundreds of people: mostly Alex and Carrie’s family, but also Dylan’s mother and some of his other relatives, as well as dozens of their friends. Alex had six bridesmaids: her five sisters, and her roommate Kelly, with Carrie as the maid of honor. I stood beside Dylan, along with Corporal Reynolds and three of Dylan’s friends from Columbia.
 

Alex was radiant. She was a beautiful girl, with large green eyes framed by long brown hair, and she had a smile that lit up the room. But in truth, my eyes kept returning to the woman who had made my life matter. Something about Carrie just stole the show from everyone around her.

The priest continued on. And on. And on. This was a Catholic ceremony. I’d never attended one before, and so it was an eye opener for me. But finally, the priest said the magic words. “You may kiss the bride.”

I couldn’t help but grin. Dylan had shown up at our room at ten o’clock last night. On
our wedding night
, the nit. Because he had needed help. Dylan’s memory had been spotty ever since his injury. When he showed up at our hotel room door, his face was drenched in sweat.

“I know this is a bad time,” he had said. “But ... I need help.”

“Get in here, bonehead,” I said.

And then he explained it. Catholic ceremony or not, Alex and Dylan had written their own vows to each other. And Dylan was terrified that he was going to forget them when it counted the most.

When he explained the problem, Carrie’s eyes watered a little, and she caught my eye. Alex never missed an opportunity to tell the story of how he had proposed, and even though I’m not the most sentimental of guys, there was something just incredibly touching about it.

“Okay,” she said. “You can do this. Do you have it with you?”

He nodded and pulled out a couple of index cards from his back pocket. Carrie bit her lip, a smile on her face.
 

“Okay,” she said. “Come here.”

She stood facing him and said, “We’re going to practice this standing up, since you’ll be standing when you say it tomorrow. Pretend I’m Alex.”

 
He nodded, and then said, “I’m going to try it without the notes first.”

She nodded, and I left them to it, ducking outside on the balcony, where I found Crank smoking a cigarette and casually fingering his guitar. I still couldn’t get used to the reality of having Crank Wilson as a brother-in-law, but that didn’t stop me from bumming a cigarette from him.

Anyway, the practice worked. Dylan performed flawlessly, and now the priest told them to face the congregation and said: “Now I present to you Mr. and Mrs. Dylan Paris.”

Everyone in the pews started clapping, and that was my cue. I gave the order, “Post” and started marching down the center aisle, sword slapping at my side. From the pews, several other soldiers got out of their seats and followed me out. Including Sergeant Hicks. The others were veterans who attended Columbia, who Dylan had met through the veterans outreach program there.

Outside I arranged them on the steps, just past the portico, in two lines facing each other, then took my position. Sergeant Hicks was opposite me, immaculate in his dress blues, his blonde hair cropped to less than an eighth of an inch. I kept my eyes off of him. His betrayal was palpable. But the invitations had long since been mailed when we found out he’d pointed the finger at me, and for whatever reason, he and his wife made the trip to the wedding.

Unfortunately, we were also met outside by a phalanx of reporters, some of them here to catch photos of Crank and Julia, who were more or less constantly hounded by the paparazzi, and some of them here, unfortunately, to harass me, Hicks and Reynolds. A few of them shouted questions and shot photos, but they couldn’t get closer to us than the curb, thanks to the line of off-duty police officers keeping them at bay.

I heard the recessional music from inside, and a long black limousine was waiting at the curb. Alex and Dylan would be going down the aisle now, and then into hiding while the people in the pews came out. As the first people came out, I turned my head slightly to the right and called the words, “Attention!”

All eight of us came rigidly to the position of attention, in two rows of four facing each other, and the crowd flowed by us, gathering at the foot of the stairs to the chapel. And then Carrie came out, and leaned close to me and gave me a kiss on the cheek. I was at the position of attention and couldn’t move. Helpless. But I winked at her. “They’re coming,” she said.

I let her get clear, and then called out, “Present ... arms!” just as Dylan and Alex appeared in the doorway.
 

Both rows of soldiers drew their sabers, and we held them in an arch. Alex’s eyes went round. This part of the ceremony was Dylan’s idea, and my implementation. She hadn’t known about it, which is a miracle, because I swear that girl had
everything
about this wedding planned down to the nanosecond.
 

They walked underneath the arch of swords, Dylan’s arm around her waist, and got in the limo and off they went. As I called out the order to sheath the sabers, Hicks gave me a dark, angry look.

Moving the wedding guests from the chapel at Columbia all the way to The Surrey Hotel was a huge exercise in logistics. Alexandra enlisted Julia for this task, given that Julia’s day to day work involved moving dozens of people and tons of equipment all over the globe when Morbid Obesity was on tour. So after Alexandra and Dylan rode off in their limo, the rest of us lined up to board the eight tour buses lined up along Amsterdam Avenue. The wedding party boarded first, and it was a little awkward, because Ray and I sat in the first row of seats, and my mother and father sat facing us. Dad gave me a curt nod and was inexcusably rude to Ray, simply looking away. I felt Ray stiffen beside me, so I wrapped my right hand around his left arm and leaned in close to him.

My mother was still dabbing her eyes. She said, “I know I never approved of that boy Dylan, but I was wrong. That was a beautiful ceremony.”

I swallowed and said, “It was.” This was a side of Mom I wasn’t used to at all. My mom? Sentimental and teary-eyed at one of her daughter’s weddings? Hardly.

Tactful as always, she said, “Have you heard any news about the trial?”

I sucked in a breath, and Ray said, “My attorney is still holding out hope they won’t move forward with it, Mrs. Thompson.”

She nodded. “When will you know?”

He coughed and said, “The investigating officer will forward his recommendations next week. They’re waiting... ”
 

He frowned, his eyes darting to the two other soldiers in the back of the bus, and shook his head. “They’re having some trouble, because the Afghan authorities haven’t agreed to allowing our forensics guys to look for ballistic evidence.”

My mother looked confused, so I clarified. “Mom ... Ray reported the crime ... but the soldier who actually did it made a counter accusation against him. They want to exhume the body and see if they can match the bullets to one of the rifles.”