“I’m thinking about the future,” Barbara replied. “Brandon will eventually have children of his own.”
That phrase stayed with me.
Children of his own.
As though Lisa could never possibly count.
I told Brandon about some of Barbara’s remarks.
He always seemed uncomfortable.
“She’s old-fashioned.”
Or:
“She’s protective of me.”
Or:
“She’ll adjust.”
I wanted to believe him.
For most of the wedding planning, Barbara kept herself under control.
She complained about the flowers.
Questioned the guest list.
Thought we were spending too much.
Normal mother-in-law stuff.
She even volunteered to help with decorations.
So on the morning of the wedding, I wasn’t suspicious.
I was nervous.
Excited.
Overwhelmed.
We were getting married at a small bed-and-breakfast about forty minutes outside town.
Afterward, Brandon, Lisa, and I planned to stay there for a few days.
Lisa called it our “family honeymoon.”
The night before, she packed her own little purple suitcase.
“You’re not allowed to check it, Mommy,” she told me.
I raised my hands.
“Fine. But you better have toothpaste.”
“I do.”
“Underwear?”
“Yes.”
“Pajamas?”
“Mom!”
I laughed.
That morning, my wedding gown hung inside the bridal suite while my sister Megan helped me with my hair.
Barbara came and went several times.
At one point, she disappeared for around twenty minutes.
I barely noticed.
There were photographers everywhere.
Bridesmaids running around.
My aunt was panicking over her mascara.
By the time I put the dress on, I was too distracted to examine every inch of it.
The train was long anyway.
I couldn’t really see the back.
Barbara suddenly became unusually helpful.
“I’ll carry your train.”
“Thank you.”
She smiled.
“Of course.”
Right before the ceremony began, she crouched behind me.
“Let me arrange this properly.”
I heard fabric moving.
Then she stood.
“There.”
I glanced over my shoulder.
“Everything okay?”
Her smile widened.
“Perfect.”
