The Magic Room: A Story About the Love We Wish for Our Daughters

by Jeffrey Zaslow

  For her part, Julie tried her best to see things from her daughters’ perspective. “It’s taken me a while to realize that my kids lost something different from what I lost,” Julie said. “They lost a dad to walk them down the aisle, to guide them through life. They lost a grandfather for their children. I lost so much, but maybe they lost more.”

  As the wedding approached, she tried not to talk about it too much, especially after her daughter Camie said, “What do you think this is? The wedding of the century?”

  In calmer moments, though, Julie found herself giving her daughters this message: “I’ll always love your dad. I love Dean, too, but he won’t go certain places in my heart that remain reserved only for your father. I’ve started a new place, a different place in my heart, for Dean. I think Dad would understand this, and as time goes by, I hope you will too.” She was buoyed when they said they appreciated her words.

  As a process engineer at GM’s Cadillac plant in Lansing, Dean Schafer is in charge of the robots used for the automated painting of all the cars. It’s an exacting job, and he’s good at it. He knows what he’s doing.

  On the volatile home front, understandably, he’s less certain. He knows he’s an outsider when it comes to the issues and animosities swirling in Julie’s family. He’s very much in love with Julie; that’s without question. But how can he best support her? A couple times, he has reprimanded her children when he thought they’d been rude to her. There was a shouting match once. But mostly, he holds back. He’s trying to build bonds with them, not turn them away.

  Dean feels extremely lucky to have found Julie, and he’s committed to finding the right way to build relationships with her family. He knows that will take time, partly because his journey has been different from Julie’s.

  Dean’s first marriage resulted in three daughters, a son, and a lot of heartache. He remembers how much he loved his first wife, how excited they were when she went to Becker’s to get her dress. But as years went on, his wife fell out of love with him, and her commitment to the marriage became an issue. The marriage eventually fell apart, and Dean endured a period of great depression. “I went through my own mourning process over my marriage,” he says. “So I could empathize with Julie.”

  Dean didn’t really know Julie earlier in his life, even though they had both lived in tiny Fowler. The crazy thing was that Dean and his first wife had bought their first home from Jeff and Julie. There hadn’t been much interaction then, beyond pleasantries and a few house tours.

  But once Dean and Julie began dating, he fell for her fast. Early on, he wrote her a poem titled “In Just Ten Days.” That’s how quickly he knew he wanted to marry her.

  To his credit, Dean has completely accepted that Julie’s bonds with Jeff remain unbreakable. “I know she’s still in love with Jeff,” he says. “Still is, and always will be. But I’ve also figured out that Julie has an amazing capacity to love. She has a heart the size of the Grand Canyon. And so I’ve told her: ‘If I can have a little sliver of that heart of yours, you can keep the rest for Jeff.’ Let me have just that small sliver, and I’ll have more love than I’ve ever experienced in my life.”

  Dean’s children are pleased to see him happy again, and they’re glad he’s marrying Julie. But for them, of course, the circumstances are different. Unlike Julie’s kids, they still have both of their parents.

  Dean and Julie

  A few days before the wedding, Julie invited her daughters, Dean’s daughters, and her mother to join her for a group outing of manicures and pedicures. Julie was nervous. How would everyone get along? Would her daughters be friendly?

  It wasn’t a full-on, joyous get-together, but everyone was gracious and made polite small-talk. It went fine. “I know we’re not as accepting as you and Dean would like us to be,” Julie’s daughter Lauren later told her. “We’re going to try harder.”

  It meant a lot to Julie, and to Helen, to hear that. “I think I’ve gotten through to the kids,” Helen said. “Or maybe they’ve come to an understanding on their own.”

  The day before the wedding, Shelley called from Becker’s to say she’d made sure that Julie’s simple dress with the brown sash was pressed and ready to go. “I’ll come early to help you get dressed,” Shelley promised. “You’re going to look stunning.”

  A nurse. A widow. A mother. A daughter.

  This time around, Julie knew, she wouldn’t be just a bubbly, naïve bride, like she was in 1986. This time, guests might be judging her; wondering why was she remarrying so quickly. This time, nine extra people would be walking down the aisle ahead of her—her children and Dean’s. And this time, everything would feel much more spiritual. Maybe her widowed grandmother would be there in spirit, waving to her from her front porch. And maybe Jeff would be there too, smiling that great smile of his, letting her know that in his absence, it’s OK if she gives a little sliver of her heart to someone else.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Ashley

  Here’s what can happen two days before a wedding.

  Ashley Brandenburg was in the car with her mother, running errands, when her mom just blurted it out. “You know,” she said, “you don’t have to get married if you don’t want to.”

  Ashley looked at her for a moment quizzically. What should you say in response to such a statement?

  “I mean,” her mother continued, “you can call it off today if you’d like, and it’s OK. Dad and I will understand. Everyone will understand.”

  “Why are you saying this, Mom?” Ashley had to ask.

  “Well, it’s nothing to do with Drew,” her mother answered. “We think he’s terrific. It’s just that nobody ever said to me before I got married that I didn’t have to go through with it. And I think a young woman should be told that she has the option to back out. That’s all. If you don’t want to get married this weekend, you don’t have to do it.”

  Ashley, the PhD candidate in French literature, the valedictorian of her high school class, had, not surprisingly, already taken an intelligent, questioning look at whether marriage was right for her—and whether Drew, the materials engineer, was the man for her. She did all that soul-searching around the time they got engaged. “Trust me, Mom, I gave it a lot of serious thought,” she said. “And I’m at peace. I don’t feel any pressure to get married. It’s what I want.”

  Her mother was quiet for a moment, then figured she’d better explain.

  “I’m never sorry I married your father,” she said. “But I did feel like at twenty-two, that was too young for me to get married. I could have waited.”

  “Well, I’m twenty-seven, Mom,” Ashley said. “I’m ready.”

  Later, Ashley ruminated a bit over what she would come to call “that weird talk.” Maybe some daughters are desperate for their mothers to give them last-minute permission to run. They may need an exit strategy, a rescue, a reason.

  And Ashley knows that each marriage has its issues; she’s just decided that the issues between her and Drew are surmountable.

  Like her father, Ashley is pretty close to being an atheist. (The wedding will be nondenominational.) But she has agreed to raise her kids as Jews because Drew’s Judaism is important to him, not necessarily in a religious sense, but culturally. Ashley admits she’s not fully comfortable with the rituals and the rules of the Jewish faith. She hardly recalls meeting a Jew during her childhood in central Michigan, and not all the people she’s met at Drew’s synagogue have been especially welcoming to her. She attends Passover seders with Drew mostly to be supportive of him.

  “I had to think for a while before I agreed to raise the kids Jewish,” she says. “But in the end, I decided it’s important for children to be brought up having a cultural identity.”

  After Drew defends his dissertation, he and Ashley will be moving to Tempe, Arizona, where Drew has been hired at Intel Corp., the technology company. Ashley will be able to continue working on her dissertation from Arizona, and has more than a year before she’ll
have to defend it.

  Ashley hopes to come back to Michigan each Christmas, especially once they have children. “Christmas, as my family celebrates it, has lost all its religious implications, but it’s important to us,” she says. “It’s about gathering as a family, presents, lots of eating.” She’d like her kids to be a part of that, and to have a connection to the Midwest sensibilities and rural way of life that she knew growing up. Funny, she thinks, how things that annoy you when you’re young can seem so inviting when you’re older.

  Ashley also wants their offspring to receive a bilingual education. That idea seemed strange to Drew. But he was surprised to learn that there are more than a few French/English schools in the United States. And so he acquiesced on this point.

  When two people commit to each other, Ashley is finding, there are a good number of issues that need to be discussed and decided on. They can’t just be tabled. That’s dangerous. And there have to be compromises.

  That’s true with wedding planning too. Too many brides have an attitude that “it’s my day, so I want my way.” Their parents, fiancés, and future in-laws often indulge them, just to keep peace. But it’s often healthier, in the long run, if all the players respectfully hash things out. That’s why some people say planning a wedding can be good preparation for living a marriage.

  Ashley’s biggest pre-wedding fight with her mother was over plans for a photograph. Her mother comes from a large family—fifty of her relatives will be at the wedding—and by tradition, a group photo is always taken at major family functions. Her mother was adamant about taking the photo right after the ceremony. Ashley knew it would be crazy trying to round up fifty people, including children, when there would be other things she’d need to be doing.

  “It’s not essential that we take this photo of this enormous crowd right then and there,” Ashley told her mom. “Maybe we’ll do it later at the reception.”

  Her mom didn’t like that Ashley seemed dismissive. Ashley, already feeling stressed, didn’t like that her mother wouldn’t back down over “a stupid picture.” What followed, as Ashley came to describe it, was “an explosion of words.” Both she and her mother were being stubborn.

  Later, when Ashley calmed down, she asked herself: Why didn’t she just go along with what her mother wanted? Why did she put up a fight? So what if the photo took twenty minutes to organize? How many of those fifty people won’t be around in ten or twenty years? It would be nice to have one photo of them all together.

  Ashley returned to her mother. “I apologize,” she said. “We’ll find a good time for that photo and we’ll get it done.”

  So many brides and their mothers spend the weeks before a wedding discussing and debating every minute detail of the ceremony and reception. They trade thousands of words about issues that, in the grand scheme of things, don’t really matter—napkins, place cards, tablecloths, photos, whatever.

  Perhaps that’s why Ashley’s mother, two days before the wedding, decided to say something so unexpected: “You know, you don’t have to get married if you don’t want to.”

  Yes, in that moment, Ashley was taken aback by her mother’s comment. But on reflection, she realized that her mom was trying to go beyond the surface conversations that mothers routinely have with brides-to-be. It’s not just about the dress, the flowers, the reception. It’s about the man and the marriage and the life that will follow.

  “You don’t have to get married.”

  The delivery of those words, Ashley came to realize, was actually an act of love.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  “I Do”

  On any given weekend, an average of fifty-four Becker’s brides find their way down the aisles of Michigan churches, social halls, or country clubs. As Shelley and Alyssa go about their lives on a Saturday night, they sometimes look at the clock and think about which bride is saying her vows at that moment.

  What happened to the accident-prone bride who feared she’d trip over her train and break her neck? Did that mother and daughter who argued bitterly in the store last week reconcile by the wedding? Did that bride who thought she’d collapse into a fit of giggles contain herself? “I wonder how they’re all doing,” Shelley will say.

  Alyssa might venture a guess. Or she’ll encourage her mother to clear her mind; the dresses looked gorgeous, the seams held, everything went fine. In all the weekends since Shelley began working at the store at age fourteen, it’s been rare that she hasn’t had a collection of brides on her mind. Sometimes, she wishes she could stop by certain ceremonies for a few moments, just to see the promises of the Magic Room come to life.

  Danielle and her grandmother Cynda

  Danielle

  Before Danielle’s wedding, her grandmother, Cynda, visits the cemetery where Danielle’s mom, Kris, is buried. She places a rose by the headstone, underneath the years of Kris’s life: 1966–1999. “You did a damn good job raising Danielle,” Cynda says softly. “You deserve to be at the wedding.”

  For most guests, the cemetery is on their way to Charlevoix, the resort town where the wedding will be held. One old friend of Kris’s blows her a kiss as she passes the cemetery. Others see the tombstones out their car windows and silently reflect on that December afternoon when Kris was buried there.

  Now it is five p.m. on a cold autumn day in Charlevoix, and everyone has gathered at a massive stone building called Castle Farms. Built in 1918 as a getaway for the president of Sears, Roebuck & Co., the castle has been converted into a banquet hall. Danielle and her fiancé Brian picked it after falling for the majesty of the place.

  The wedding ceremony begins with Cynda and Brian’s mother lighting two candles at the altar, after which Cynda places a calla lily on the table there; it was one of Kris’s favorite flowers. After the bridal party enters to an acoustic version of Jason Mraz’s “I’m Yours,” it’s Danielle’s turn. She walks slowly, escorted by her grandfather and her mom’s boyfriend, Ted, who carries in his pocket the handkerchief given to him an hour earlier by Danielle. It’s embroidered with the words FATHER OF THE BRIDE, a gift of thanks to him for being there when her biological father was not.

  Once Danielle and Brian are together at the altar, the minister, a woman named Glad Remaly, begins by explaining that the lily is in memory of Kris. “Even though Danielle’s mother is no longer here physically,” the minister says, “she is carried in our hearts as a source of love and inspiration. Danielle, your mom’s spirit lives on in all fortunate enough to have loved her, and she is felt here today on this happy occasion.”

  The minister asks the couple to recite their vows, then leads them to the two candles. “At the beginning of this ceremony,” she says, “Danielle’s grandmother and Brian’s mother came forward and lit their child’s individual candle. Brian and Danielle, these two lit candles symbolize your uniqueness as separate people.” She instructs them to use their individual candles to light a third candle together, “the unity candle.”

  She then asks Danielle to hold Brian’s hands, palms up, “so you may see the gift that they are to you. Danielle, these are the hands of your best friend, the hands that will work alongside you, comfort you in illness, and hold you when fear or grief clouds your mind.” She offers a prayer that ends, “May Brian and Danielle see their four hands as healer, protector, shelter, and guide.” A minute later, she declares them husband and wife, and their friends and family applaud.

  Cynda, in the front row, is wearing a gold bracelet with a small diamond that Danielle gave her the evening before, at the rehearsal dinner. “I had two of those bracelets made,” Danielle explained. “The other one is for me.” The diamonds came from Kris’s most-cherished earrings. And so, on this wedding day, two simple bracelets speak to the love, past and present, between three generations of women.

  After the ceremony, as the photographer poses the bride and groom with Cynda, Ted stands off to the side, observing. He’s there with his wife, whom he met and married after Kris died. At one point, Cynda
and Danielle both start laughing. “Listen to them, it’s the same laugh,” Ted says. “And Kris sounded exactly like that. She had this loud, deep, let-it-all-out laugh that would light up her whole face.” He pauses. “It can be painful when I hear Danielle laugh now. But it also brings back a lot of good memories.”

  He remembers playing checkers with Danielle and Kris, using the squares on his kitchen floor. He’s thinking about Kris and Danielle, bobbing their heads together to Prince’s “When Doves Cry,” driving to the cottage in northern Michigan. Then a third memory comes into his head, of how he and Kris had a playful routine when he’d ask her to make him a drink. “No you make it,” she’d say.

  “No, you.”

  “No, you.”

  “No, you make it,” he’d finally answer, “because you always put love in it.” And she’d laugh that full laugh of hers.

  Once his photo is taken with the bride and groom, Ted tells guests standing nearby that he always has premonitions about pregnancies. He can predict the gender of a baby. “I had a streak of sixteen correct predictions, then I got one wrong, and now I’ve been right six times in a row,” he says. “Here’s my prediction for Danielle: Her first child will be a girl, in honor of her mom.”

  Danielle and Brian on the dance floor

  At the reception, some guests choose not to mention Kris when they congratulate Danielle. They don’t want to make her sad. But a few feel the need to articulate what they’ve all been thinking. “Your mom loved you so much,” one says, “and she would have thought you looked beautiful today.”

  As for Brian, he picks his own moment to let Danielle know that he also misses Kris, the mother-in-law he never got to meet. The DJ plays Michael Bublé’s “Everything” for the newlyweds’ first dance, and there on the floor, Brian gently pulls Danielle toward him. “I’ve been wishing your mom could see us and how happy we are,” he says in her ear. “But you know what? She’s here. She knows. She sees us.”