“I wonder if he’s nervous. Do you think he’s shaking like this?” Annie laughed and shook her head. “Probably not. He’s a cowboy. He rides… used to ride bulls for a living. What’s a little—” she turned for another glance in the mirror, complete with bouquet, and smiled “—wedding?”
“There’s no such thing as a little wedding,” Sally said, speaking from her all-too-frequent experience as a captive TV watcher. “By the numbers, this one is little. But it’s big by my calculations.”
“I know. It’s all Sam’s fault.”
“I’m not calculating in dollars. Zach’s brother’s money definitely falls into the easy-come-easy-go category, and since there’s so much of it, why not enjoy the frills? I’m talking about big, as in big as life. This is your wedding, and it means the world to me.”
Sally touched the simple strand of pearls around her sister’s neck. They had belonged to their mother, whom Sally saw so unmistakably in Annie’s big, soft eyes and bow-shaped mouth and dainty chin. Sally looked more like their father, but she was the one who clearly remembered Mom. Sally was the keeper of Drexler memories.
“I’ll be kinda glad when it’s all…” Annie gave her head a quick toss. “No, I’m glad now. I’m ready. I feel beautiful. And you look beautiful, Sally.” Annie turned her sister so that the mirror made a framed portrait unlike any they’d taken together before. They’d been big and lively, little and sweet. One primary, one pastel. One ready to go first, the other pleased to follow.
“I love you so much,” Annie whispered, and Sally had no doubt. But Annie was the one once meant to wait while Sally went ahead. And it wasn’t that Sally was resentful of the reversal—she really did look good in her chic, fluid blue waterfall of a dress, Annie’s gift of opals around her neck and studding her ears, fragrant gardenias in her hair—but she was unsure of her footing. Annie was taking a big step.
Where did that leave Sally?
“Me, too, you,” she said as she squeezed that ever-dependable hand again. “Lest we spoil the makeup, consider yourself kissed.”
“You know you’re not losing a sister, don’t you? You’re gaining a brother. And we’re not going anywhere. We’re partners, and we’re family, and we’re going to—”
“—be late for your wedding. Listen. I am fine.” She enunciated each word forcefully, willing her sister to make sense of three simple words and move on. “Look at me. No cane, no pain.” Enjoy this with me while it lasts. She needlessly fluffed Annie’s veil. “This is your day, honey. Take a deep breath. Your man is out there waiting and, yes, probably feeling just the way you are. When you take each other’s hands…” Sally smiled, blinking furiously because she would not cry. “Tell me what it’s like, okay? That moment.”
Annie nodded as she pulled her hand free, placed a finger lightly at the outside corner of Sally’s eye, caught a single tear and touched it to her lips.
Granite spires bound the crystalline-blue lake on the far side, the perfect backdrop for a hand-woven red willow arch decked out with a profusion of flowers. Guests were seated in white folding chairs. Zach’s niece led the way, tossing handfuls of white rose petals on a path of fresh green pine needles. Sally followed, taking measured steps in time with the string quartet’s elegant processional. Looking as handsome and relaxed in his black tux as he did in well-worn jeans, Zach waited for his bride. His brother, Sam—a little taller, a little darker, a little less at ease—stood like a sentry overseeing his charges. Daughter, son, wife, mother, brother—Sam’s eyes attended to each one. He was clearly the Beaudry caretaker. Funny, Sally thought. That’s Annie, not me.
Before she’d been diagnosed with multiple sclerosis, Sally had been the seeker, the doer, the risk taker. She’d cared passionately, but she’d never taken care. That was Annie’s role. Careful, care-giving, selfless Annie.
Sally paused before the minister and looked the groom in the eye. Be good to her, Zach. Be the man she deserves. She pivoted and took her place, knowing she’d made her point. She felt Annie step up to fill the space she and Zach had left for her, but she couldn’t quite turn to watch Hoolie place her sister’s hand in Zach’s. It was enough to see the movement from the corner of her eye, where Annie had touched her for a tear.
It was happening. Annie was interlacing her life with someone new, becoming someone else’s next of kin. Sally clutched two handfuls of flowers and listened to identical promises exchanged in voices that complemented each other in a way she hadn’t heard before. It was a pure sound and a simple truth. Annie and Zach belonged together.
And they stood together, hand in hand, while Hank played an acoustic guitar and sang “Cowboy, Take Her Away” in a deep, resonant voice that was made for a love song. He’d said his gift was his song, and he sang to the couple as though no one else was there and every note, every word had been written just for them. Sally was enchanted. Her beautiful sister, her new brother, the music and the man who made it—she wanted to suck it all in and keep it alive within her in a way that the video camera could never do.
At the end of the song, Hank said, “Kiss her, Zach.” And he did, cheered on by friends and family, who showered them with white rose petals as they retreated down the path. The guests followed, and the violinists made merry music at the back of the line as it wended its way up a gentle slope between stands of tall pines. When they reached the lodge’s gravel driveway, Zach swept his bride up in his arms and carried her across the path and up the steps to the front porch, where he set her down and kissed her again. Women sighed. Men whooped. Cowboy hats sailed skyward.
Annie and Zach were hitched.
“You’re a lucky man.” Sally raised her glass of sparkling water in toast.
“Yeah, I know.” Sam put his arm around his new wife, Maggie. “I hit the jackpot.”
Maggie looked up at him. “You did?”
“Trusted you and got myself a whole family.”
“I think Sally’s talking about winning the lottery,” Maggie said. “It’s crazy. Real people don’t win the lottery.”
“Well, it was complicated,” Sam said. “It was Star’s mother’s ticket—our daughter, Star—but she died before she could claim it. In fact, we thought the damn thing was lost in a car accident, but it turned up, kinda like…” He waved his hand as though words failed.
“Miraculously,” Maggie supplied.
“To put it mildly,” Sam said. “It’s been a year, but it still doesn’t seem real. We’re trying to manage it sensibly. You don’t want to go crazy. You want to put some of it to good use now, give some away, make sure there’s plenty left for the kids. I’ve never known any rich people, never thought I’d like them much.”
“He won’t give up his job,” Maggie said.
Sam laughed. “She won’t, either.”
“I’m part-time now, but our little clinic needs nurses, and I’m a good one. We just moved into a house we built on Sam’s land. It’s a gorgeous spot.” Maggie made a sweeping gesture. “Kind of like this, but the lake is smaller and the mountains are bigger. You have to come for a visit.”
“Where’s Hank?” Sam asked, searching over the heads of the guests. “Man, that guy can sing. He about killed my brother with that song.” He grinned at Zach. “He didn’t leave yet, did he?”
Did he?
Sally hugged her new brother-in-law. “Where’s Hank?”
“I’ll tell you a little secret about ol’ Hank. He don’t like compliments. He does his thing, and then he disappears for a while. He sang at a funeral once—bull rider, wrecked his pickup. Hank tore everybody up singin’