The Path Of Dreams

by Eugene Woodbury

  “For exactly this purpose.”

  Connor said, “I’ll meet you in the chapel,” and she had to let go of his hand.

  In the men’s dressing room, Connor changed into white slacks (kept on the shirt), white tie (replacing the cravat), and white socks and slippers. Then he and Oh Sensei rode the escalator to the second floor chapel.

  “McKenzie-Packard,” Oh Sensei said to the temple worker. He pushed Connor forward. “This is the McKenzie half.” “Oh, yes,” she said, checking the tags they’d received at the recommend desk. She made two marks on her clipboard.

  They sat on the pew that ran along the back of the chapel. Organ music played in the background. A couple came in and spoke to the temple worker. The woman was wearing a more conventional wedding dress. Elly finally appeared in the doorway, June a step behind her. Connor bounded to his feet.

  “You’re beautiful,” he said, taking her hands in his. She smiled, her face aglow against the shimmering silk of the kosode.

  The temple worker said to June. “The mother of the bride?”

  “The aunt, in place of the mother.”

  Elly said to Connor, “You wanted to see me in a kimono, didn’t you?”

  “I didn’t know how much.”

  Melanie and Lynne joined them. Wanda came in a few minutes later, and then Martin. Martin was so effusive in his compliments that Wanda finally shushed him.

  Elder and Sister Packard were the last to arrive. Like the temple president, Elder Packard was wearing a white suit coat. Connor and Elly stood when he approached. “Now, aren’t you the prettiest bride in the world,” he said to his granddaughter.

  A bell softly chimed, indicating that the next endowment session was about to begin. The McKenzie-Packard party filed out of the chapel.

  A little over ninety minutes later, Elly and Connor sat together in the celestial room. It was a relief to sit back and relax and do nothing at all, if only for a few minutes.

  Connor said, “I feel pretty married already.” “Nice try,” Elly said, a twinkle in her eyes. “But I’m still going through with it.”

  Sister Packard and a temple worker came around to collect them. They met up with Bishop Ferguson and Glenn on the way down to the sealing room.

  The small sealing room glowed with light. The velour of the altar was a rich burgundy. Their perception of the room’s size changed considerably when they entered the room. The mirrored walls reflected each other into infinity, pushing the walls out and out, creating the illusion that they were standing in the midst of a large expanse.

  Elly and Connor sat closest to the altar. There was no requirement that they sit on one side or the other, but that was what everybody did anyway.

  After a moment of silence, Elder Packard stepped forward. “A marriage,” he began, “is also the union of two families, and by extension, the union of their friends and relatives. Today, in the somewhat unusual case of Elly and Connor, their relatives will represent their parents. While the bride and groom know each other, many here are strangers. So let’s begin with some introductions.”

  He went around the room, eliciting a few words from each person about their relationship to Connor and Elly. It was corny, but had the desired effect—that Elder Packard had no doubt intended—of loosening things up a bit. Then he clapped his hands together and said, “I once had the wedding ceremony described to me as sixty sacred seconds preceded by thirty minutes of bad advice.”

  The man knew how to work a room. He continued, “Keeping that in mind, I shall endeavor to keep the bad advice to a minimum.” He paused just long enough to turn a mental page to his more serious material.

  “There’s no real need for me to justify the importance of marriage— the determination of Elly and Connor to be married speaks for itself. Even the Apostle Paul—and we all know the reservations with which he approached the subject—was moved to write that ‘marriage is honorable in all.’ More important is what we can say about the qualities that should govern the marriage from this day forward. And so we return to Paul and the fifth chapter of his letter to the Ephesians, in which he advised couples that ‘the husband is the head of the wife, even as Christ is the head of the church.’ This scripture is easily misconstrued, and to say something in Paul’s defense, he notes only two verses later, ‘Husbands, love your wives, even as Christ also loved the church, and gave himself for it’—a command equal in its severity.

  “But we need only turn to Joseph Smith to put Paul in the proper context. ‘No power or influence,’ the prophet Joseph wrote in the 121st Section of the Doctrine & Covenants, ‘can or ought to be maintained by virtue of the priesthood, only by persuasion, by long-suffering, by gentleness and meekness, and by love unfeigned.’ Dispelling any other doubts, the Lord had already commanded the elders of the Church, in Section 42, ‘Thou shalt love thy wife with all thy heart, and shalt cleave unto her and none else.’

  “I’d like to further examine the two verbs in that verse. First, cleave, meaning ‘to adhere closely, to remain faithful.’ In other words, cleave unto your wife, not to the NFL football schedule. And not even the BYU football schedule.” Another round of smiles. “None else. I don’t see any wiggle room in that qualifier.

  “Second, love. As Paul instructs us in the thirteenth chapter of First Corinthians: ‘Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.’ It doesn’t matter if you can speak with the tongues of angels, Paul argues. Without love we are nothing.

  “But what is this love, and how do we keep it alive? Ah, poets have sought the answer to that question since the beginning of time. And I’m afraid my thirty minutes is about up. But the answer is really this simple: ‘Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments.’ So said Shakespeare, and he was right as scripture.”

  He looked at the bride and groom. “One last bit of advice, and this I consider the least useless of all I have to say. Too many practical and wise men, psychologists and counselors and advice columnists, tell us that the love of courtship will necessarily fade. You cannot stay in love forever, they say. Those giddy feelings won’t last, they warn. To which I answer: Nonsense! I’ll quote Brother Shakespeare again:

  Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle’s compass come: Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom.

  “Do not enter marriage expecting love to fade. Expect it to grow. You cannot know what will happen in the next year, the next five, the next fifty. No farmer plants in the spring expecting only weeds in the fall. Begin this marriage with faith that a richer harvest awaits than the one you can imagine now, and work toward it with all your effort and ingenuity. That faith, I promise you, will be rewarded.”

  He stepped forward and held out his arms. Elly and Connor rose from their chairs and knelt at the altar. Elly still had questions. But no doubts or second thoughts. She answered without hesitation. His response was no less resolute.

  After a moment of silence, Elder Packard took them behind the altar so they were standing on either side of him, facing the witnesses to their union. After another moment he asked in a muted voice, “Do you wish to exchange rings?”

  The shocked look on Connor’s face answered for him. “No matter,” Elder Packard said with a soft chuckle and a pat on the back. “It’s a nod to tradition, not part of the ceremony.”

  And then Elly, her face radiant with affection, took her husband’s face in her hands and kissed him thoroughly, making it clear that no rings were necessary.

  Chapter 32

  Pictures of a Wedding

  W hen Connor and Elly came out of the sealing room, the temple concourse was flooded with afternoon light.

  “I forgot all about the ring,” he apologized.

  “So did I. Besides, exchanging rings is one of those silly western traditions promulgated by jewelry maker
s. It certainly never occurred to any of my Japanese ancestors until you Americans showed up. I know who I’m married to, Go-shujin-sama.” She hugged him with all her might. “I see that Auntie is waiting for me.”

  She reluctantly left his side, flashing a smile over her shoulder as Aunt June led her away.

  Connor stood in front of the mirror in the dressing room and adjusted his cravat. He could hear the beating of his racing heart. All that suspended anxiety and adrenaline coursed through his bloodstream. He stepped back and took several deep breaths.

  A temple worker straightened the back of his collar. “Thanks,” said Connor.

  “Just got married, eh? Congratulations.”

  Nobody but a bridegroom ever wore a morning coat to the temple. He, Oh Sensei, and Martin decamped to the lobby, where they joined Glenn. Elly was not yet there.

  Connor paced along the wall from the back partition to the reception desk. He tugged absently at the lapels of the morning coat. Elder Packard walked up to Connor and handed him an envelope. “Your marriage certificate. The temple will send you a much nicer facsimile.”

  From behind them came an audible gasp. Somebody else whispered, “Look at that!”

  Connor spun around as Elly came into the lobby. His eyes widened in amazement, his lips forming around the word, Wow! She looked like she was wearing a mantle of freshly fallen snow. The fabric of the shiromuku uchikake gleamed against her dark hair, red lips, and the tan of her cheeks. The obi gathered in a tight bow high on her back. The robe spilled down to the floor in a frozen waterfall foaming around her ankles. The traditional tsuno-kakushi adorned her head like a white crown.

  Elly was escorted by June, wearing a more muted kimono. Sister Packard, Melanie, and Lynne followed close behind. Connor collected himself and crossed the lobby. Elly turned to him. The care with which she had to move lent every gesture a particular gracefulness. He said, “You are absolutely gorgeous.”

  She grinned. “Then it was worth it.”

  “Don’t scrunch anything,” June said under her breath.

  Somebody asked Elder Packard, in a voice louder than courtesy dictated, “Who in the world is that?”

  “That’s my granddaughter,” he announced, and none too softly either.

  They made their way out of the lobby, under the portico, to the curb. Connor took hold of her arm, and a few times steadied her at the shoulder. Elly laughed. “Wearing a kimono like this is more a stand-there-andlook-beautiful type of thing.”

  June got out her cell phone and made a brief call. A minute later, a man trotted up from the parking lot, two cameras swinging from straps around his neck. June said. “Once everybody gets here I think we’ll move over to the lawn by the fountain.” She nodded at the broad, sloping green before them.

  A young man’s voice called out, “Sensei!”

  Both Elly and her uncle turned. Four missionaries strode up the walk. The missionary in the lead beamed and waved. Her student, Bradley. His companions hung back and exchanged bewildered looks. “Omedet gozaimasu,” he said, bowing a bit too deeply.

  Elly responded with a respectful nod. “D itashimashite,” she said. “And how are you, Bradley Ch r ? O-genki desu ka?”

  “I’m doing well,” Bradley bravely responded in the language. “I don’t know if I told you, but I got my call to the Kobe Mission.”

  “Please communicate my regards to my father. Yoroshiku onegai shimasu. I wish you the best on your mission.”

  Bradley bowed again, and then he and his troupe continued along the portico to the temple. Not yet out of earshot, one of his companions asked, “Who was that?” in tones of awe and envy.

  “My Japanese teacher,” Bradley explained.

  Oh Sensei said dryly, “That’s one way to get a positive teacher evaluation.”

  They gathered on the grass before the fountain. The photographer (his name was Jake Kimball) positioned them for the light (from the back, illuminating the borders of the uchikake) while June mixed and matched: his hands on her shoulders, standing side by side, and lastly, gazing into each other’s eyes (“A required pose,” Jake quipped). And then various combinations with everybody else.

  Elder Packard left to change out of his temple whites. Wanda said to Connor and Elly, “I’ve got to take care of something back at the house. It shouldn’t take long. I’ll see you at your aunt and uncle’s.”

  “Thank you, Wanda,” Elly said, “for everything.”

  “Seeing the two of you married is thanks enough.”

  June bustled about, making sure everybody knew where to go next. Elder Packard returned from the temple in his business suit. They carefully bundled Elly into the back seat of the Buick. Connor got in next to her. The bow of the kimono’s obi pretty much prevented her from leaning back against the seat. So she rested against his shoulder. “We’re going to scrunch something,” he whispered in her ear.

  “Scrunch away,” she murmured.

  “I’ve taken plenty of wedding photographs in my life,” Jake-the-photographer said as he posed Connor and Elly in the Oh’s backyard. “But this is my first Japanese style.”

  The late afternoon sun shone across the orchard canopy. The deep, shadowed, verdant green set off the glimmering white of Elly’s robes. A slanting yellow ray lit up the highlights in her hair. The smell of apples lingered in the air, accented by a sharp charcoal scent as Oh Sensei started up the barbecue.

  Kusanagi Sensei arrived with her husband. Several members of the Ohs’ ward stopped by. They soon had a small audience. Wanda showed up, having dealt with whatever had called her away.

  Jake stored the Hasselblad and wandered around the party, capturing more candid moments with a digital Canon. Elly announced that she was changing out of her kimono, which brought on a final flurry of snapshots. Connor and Uncle Martin and Oh Sensei carted the teriyaki chicken out to the back porch. Naomi, as per her mother’s instructions, had started simmering the sukiyaki sauce in the three electric frying pans (two borrowed from the Relief Society kitchen), and was keeping her eye on a pair of rice cookers.

  Elly returned to the porch in her Sunday dress. “The carriage turned back into a pumpkin and now it’s plain, ordinary me.”

  “Yet you still look exquisite.”

  June came out to the porch steps and announced the menu. “And for those who prefer a more American fare, my husband is in charge of the chicken.”

  Elder Packard delivered the blessing on the food.

  There were settings at the picnic table, an extra folding table (also borrowed from the church), and the dining room table. As they were partial to the sukiyaki, Connor and Elly settled at the dining room table. The Packards joined them, though they resorted to more conventional utensils.

  Sister Packard asked Elly, “That hooded cloak you wore with your kimono, does it represent anything in particular?”

  “It’s called a tsuno-kakushi, which literally means hidden horns. It hides a woman’s jealous horns on her wedding day. Because if she gets jealous, she’ll turn into an oni, an ogre.” She placed her fists on her temples and extended her forefingers. She said to Connor, “And they are sharp.”

  June interjected, “Like her mother’s.”

  Elly’s grandmother said, “It’s interesting the gestures different cultures come up with. When you refer to yourself, don’t you point at your nose? I’ve seen your mother do that.”

  Elly held out her hand, palm down, and waggled her fingers back and forth. “You probably saw her do this when she wanted me to come here. It’s the opposite of how we do it.”

  “How about kuru-kuru pah?” Melanie said. She made a fist by her right ear and flicked her fingers outwards. “It means you’re nuts. Like them.”

  “And when you make a promise—” Elly held out her right pinkie and Connor locked his pinkie with hers. “That’s making a promise.” They tugged playfully back and forth. Elly’s thoughts flashed back to all the silly romance manga she’d read as a child, and the inevitable scene of ch
ildhood friends entwining pinkies and vowing never to forget each other. “Yakusoku shimasu,” she softly said in Japanese. I promise.

  June asked, “Do you miss Japan, Elly? You’d lived there most of your life until you were nine.”

  Elly shook her head. “Not at the time. It was a great adventure. I was the one making all my friends jealous, because I got to go to America. Funny how I thought about it from that perspective—that I was Japanese, not American. One thing about Utah, though. I miss the rainy season.”

  “You didn’t when you were there,” Melanie said. “I remember: monku, monku, monku, complain, complain, complain.”

  “It’s different when you’ve got to tract all day.”

  June said, “As I remember it, your mom would get furious at you for coming home soaking wet every day after school during the monsoons.”

  Elly grinned. “I was only exploiting the talent all kids have for figuring out what will annoy their parents the most.”

  “Something you were very good at.”

  “So I’ve gathered,” said Connor. “Though she’s been sparing with the details.”

  “I’m sure her mother would be more than willing to supply them.”

  “That she would,” said Oh Sensei, coming into the dining room from the porch. “It’s getting a bit late,” he mentioned in an offhand manner.

  “Yes it is,” said June. “You two need to go around and thank everyone for coming. I took seriously your not wanting a cake. But you do have wedding presents to unwrap.”

  “You didn’t have to get us wedding presents as well,” Elly protested.

  “I didn’t,” June said. “I won’t charge your mother for the photographer. But others did rise to the occasion. It’s a wedding, isn’t it? These things go hand-in-hand.”

  Sitting on the piano in the living room were several cards and wrapped boxes. The remaining guests crowded in with them. Elly first opened the card from her grandparents. Inside was a clipping of a dinette set from a Vintage Oak newspaper circular. “For your new kitchen,” Sister Packard said.