Justice of the Couple

Grace pulled her white robe off its hangar and swore to herself. She’d forgotten to iron it, and now there was no time. Just another bump in this bumpy day. 

First it was rain. She hated it when it rained on one of her wedding days. It made the couple, the guests, even her overly anxious, perhaps wondering why nature conspired against the day. 

Then, there was the early morning call from Tony’s mom, the mother of the groom, checking for the umpteenth time on the service details. It irked her that Mrs. Viterelli wouldn’t trust her after all the discussions and meetings. And, besides, this was the day for the couple, not the mother. Mrs. Viterelli would notice the rumpled robe.

And finally, Pete, who told her on her way out the door that he was reneging on his promise to attend the reception, preferring to stay in his sweatpants and watch a football game. So she’d be alone, the odd duck in a party room of people who all knew each other.

“Well, that’s just fine, Pete,” she yelled on the way out the door, slamming it as an exclamation mark on her feelings. Maybe he didn’t deserve it, but it made her feel better to yell. He needed to think more about her wants. She chuckled to herself. Maybe she would stop washing his sweatpants so he only had nice pants to wear. Was attending a party such a big ask?

***

Grace made it to the Round Barn in plenty of time and plastered a smile on her face that she didn’t feel. She hugged the groom, Tony, and sought out Meghan, the bride, and reassured both that all was well. The busy commotion of the guests usually raised her spirits, but this time it wasn’t working; she was still stewing at Pete’s selfishness.

She shook her head to clear her mind and closed her eyes for a moment. Focus on the couple. On their day. Opening her wedding binder full of notes, she reviewed the service details: blessings, readings, vows, rings. She reread the details of Tony & Meghan’s time together at UVM, their love of winter adventures, and the stresses of the wedding planning, especially Tony’s mother, the wedding tyrant, pushing for her way on every detail. Initially, the couple had tried to negotiate for things they wanted, but eventually they gave up and let Mrs. V roll over them; it was easier.

Grace’s memory snapped back to her own wedding to Pete over 40 years ago. They had a party and cake. They had guests. She wore white. Their celebrant read the traditional vows and they repeated them. But she couldn’t remember anything unique about their service. Perhaps that was why, in her retirement years, she became a Justice of the Peace, a champion of the wedding couple. A superhero in a white robe, her role was to keep the couple focused on the importance of the service, creating meaning for the words at this, the formal beginning of their married life.

She remembered her surprise when she found out that her elected role as Justice of the Peace also included tax appeals and abatements, reviewing electorate rolls and overseeing elections. In her head, this was a job about weddings. She had a true soft spot for them. Maybe it was the promise of a new beginning, the adrenaline of new love, or the victorious emergence from the stresses of the wedding planning process, but she cheered for all her couples. All 42 of them she’d had the pleasure of presiding over for the past decade.

Oh, they weren’t all easy. In fact, it was usually the tricky ones that were more memorable. Cranky fathers, preening mothers, crying babies, multiple divorced parents, sulky children or adult children from prior marriages. But her favorite was always the current couple, the current wedding, the current service.

In this wedding, it was Tony’s mom who was the challenge. Pushing the old school vows over the personal ones the kids wrote to each other, challenging the length of the Meghan’s veil, choosing the exact shade of blush for the boutonnieres, sniffing the local cheese to find the aroma she liked best, pretty much deciding everything from what Grace heard from Tony and Meghan.

As the music began and the ushers guided people to their seats, she patted Tony’s arm, and they headed to the front of the room. She watched as Mrs. Viterelli walked in and sat in the front, with a frown on her face, in her gown and shoes dyed a dark rose to match the color scheme she dictated for the wedding. Her eyes swept critically over her son and his brothers, lined up under the arch of white roses and daisies, glaring at the younger ones until they stood up straight. Grace colored slightly as the roving eyes disapproved of her creased robe. The day isn’t hers. It’s Tony and Meghan’s.

She watched the doors open at the back of the milking parlor and the strains of “Ode to Joy” heralded the bride’s approach. Wow, Meghan looks nervous. She glanced at Tony who was staring intently at the ground as if he was a 5-year-old watching an ant carry a morsel of bread. They were always nervous, all of her couples. That’s how it was. It was a big day. She finally felt the wave of wedding happiness. Her heart warmed, her spirits lightened as she pushed cranky Pete and her crumpled robe out of her head. She was here for a job. Here to make this couple focus on their moment. Their first moment of married life, of lifetime commitment. 

Meghan and her dad walked down the aisle, her dad kissed her, shook Tony’s hand and took his seat. The young couple looked into each other’s eyes. She whispered to them, “Remember to breathe,” and was rewarded with shaky smiles. “Remember, this is your day. Your first day.” The couple nodded, but she could see they didn’t believe her.

She raised her voice to start the ceremony, welcoming everyone, giving the blessing, asking for the readers to come forward. Finally, it came time for the vows, and she read from her binder.

“Tony, repeat after me. I, Tony, take thee, Meghan, to be my lawful wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part.”

Tony dutifully repeated the sentences. She peered at him. He was nervous, yes, but there was more. How could she make this better? She paused. “I’m sorry, but this isn’t right,” she said softly. “You can’t start this way.”

Tony and Meghan looked at her, their eyes wide in disbelief. The guests in the front rows gasped and passed her words into the back rows like a giant game of telephone.

Tony cleared his throat. “Grace, what are you doing?”

She flipped the pages back to the beginning of her binder. “I’m sorry, but I can’t marry you like this.”

Meghan’s eyes welled, “Grace…”

She motioned for them to lean in and she whispered urgently to them, “This is your day. The beginning of your life together. Trust me.”

She looked at the gathered crowd, noting the faces somewhat confused, and a few scowling like Tony’s mother in the front row. She looked at her couple. Protocol be damned. This was the right thing for these two people, on this day, at this time.

She pulled out two handwritten pages, glanced at them and handed one to Tony. “Read this.”

Tony looked at the page, bit back a smile, and tried not to glance at his mother. Grace joined his free hand to Meghan’s, and he squeezed as he read the vows he had written weeks ago.

“Dear Meghan. You make me laugh. And cry… usually with tears of joy.”

The crowd chuckled.

“You challenge me to ski faster, hike higher, learn deeper. You are exasperatedly good at Wordle.” He raised his eyes from the paper, “I pledge to spend the rest of my life making you happy you chose me today. I love you now and forever.”

As if on cue, the rain clouds outside parted and a shaft of setting sun shone through the window, draping the front of the room in a golden glow. Grace silently thanked the Lord and Mother Nature for the display of approval.

Meghan whispered, “I can’t believe you wrote that. I love you.” Tony blushed and beamed at his bride.

She handed the other sheet to Meghan, who smiled through her tears and read in a shaky but determined voice, “Dear Tony. What did I ever see in that boy in history class with all the answers to all the questions? How annoying. And that same boy who dared me to race down Spring Fling. Good thing I beat him so he’d ask again.”

The crowd smiled.

“You are my soul mate. Who else would get married in a milking parlor, fueled by the past and embracing the future in a single moment? I pledge to grow our love deeper over all the decades to come. I love you.”

A sigh emerged from Meghan’s friends in the second row.

Tony whispered, “History class, huh? I always thought it was my good looks.” He squeezed her hand.

Grace looked at the now smiling crowd. She noticed Mrs. Viterelli’s raised eyebrow but, surprisingly, a tiny upward tilt of her rose-colored lips. Grace’s eyes crinkled in response as they shared an admiring look between strong women.

She raised her hand and addressed the onlookers, “I’ve been officiating weddings for a while now. Forgive an old woman her well-earned views, but I think honesty is the best way to start.”

“Now, for the best part of my job.” She held her hands high above the heads of the bride and groom. “I now pronounce you man and wife. We would all like to cheer your first kiss. Go for it.”

Meghan and Tony wrapped their arms around each other and kissed while the crowd rose to their feet and clapped. The newlyweds turned and walked down the aisle, hand in hand. Grace stood at the front of the room as the bridal party exited, followed by all the guests, as they moved upstairs to the reception. The room drained of noise and color. How quickly Tony and Meghan had forgotten her. She hoped they remembered her gift.

Laying down her binder, she took off her robe and folded it neatly. The music and more applause echoed above her in the party room and she wistfully looked at the ceiling. It never felt comfortable to join the party by herself. As she put the service items into her bag, she heard a steady clap, clap, clap. Looking up, she saw Pete walking down the aisle, wearing a suit and tie.

She straightened up and stared at him. A flood of emotions surged in her. She wasn’t sure if she was still pissed or not. But here he was.

“You did good, Gracie,” he said. “You got them off to a good start.” He approached the front of the room, and she could see his eyes shining a little. “I can be a fool sometimes.”

“Sometimes?” she asked. She noticed some new gray hairs in his eyebrows. Her shoulders dropped. “I’m sorry I yelled.”

He smiled and extended his arm toward her as the music swelled above them. She reached to grasp his hand and folded into his arms. They danced together in the empty milking room, the scent of flowers surrounding them, another wedding successful blessed, another new life beginning.