Made of Honor

by Marilyn Griffith

  Somehow.

  “I thought I would get used to it, but I can see now that I let that diamond and…other things cloud my judgment. I feel like I’m waking up from months of sleeping.”

  What a word picture. The phrase “I told you so” bounced around in my head, but I squelched it like the evil it was. That was the last thing she needed to hear. “Hey, it’s not so bad. This is how it is for everybody at first.”

  Her voice perked up a bit. “Really?”

  “Really.” I hoped not. Until this conversation, I’d really been considering skipping my little dedication ceremony and getting married instead. We had all the paperwork done. The end of the month seemed years away. But listening to Tracey, I realized how difficult marriage could be if I tried to do it without being grounded in God. Adrian was a good man, but he was still a man. And God knows I can be a real piece of work myself. “It’ll just take some getting used to. It’s like Rochelle said in that devo yesterday—”

  “That’s the problem.”

  “What? Chelle?”

  “No—me. I’ve been deleting the devotionals, skipping my turn, not reading my Bible. It’s like I’m having a showdown with Ryan…and God. I try to pray, but I just can’t. I know He’s going to tell me to let go of my anger and I don’t want to! My husband is wrong!”

  I took a long breath and ran my tongue over my lips, which still went numb from time to time. What a price anger had exacted in my life. Tracey’s words made me cringe at first, but only because they could have once come from my own mouth. Even worse than her, I’d kept doing my “Jesus stuff”—church, Bible study, devotionals—and kept my anger, too.

  “Tracey, believe it or not, I understand the angry frustrated thing. I do. But we both know that we can’t stay here.” When had she become we? “God doesn’t want us to hold on to this stuff. It’s poison. Go back in there and talk to your husband. Tell him calmly what you told me and pray on the rest. Let’s just see what the Lord is going to do.”

  The Tracey I knew and loved responded from the other side of the receiver. “I love him. I really do. I just didn’t figure it would be like this. I guess I haven’t been exactly praying for him, either…”

  “See? There you go. Just take a step. Sow a seed to righteousness. The next one might be easier to toss.”

  “Umph, umph, umph. Girl, you always know just what to say.”

  Sure do. Except to myself.

  I stayed silent, knowing she’d talk it through. This listening thing was really cool if you could get the hang of it.

  “I guess a trip to Jamaica won’t hurt. I know I’m nearing the end of my pregnancy and I’m all crazy, too.”

  Nearing the end? Had it been that long? “Will you be okay to fly?”

  “Sure. I’ve got a few weeks yet. My only problem was flying with him.”

  “You’re too much. Now scoot, before Ryan thinks the phone has swallowed you.” I really wanted to get off the phone so I could call Adrian. We talked a lot, now that we’d allowed ourselves to relax a little. Very little. It didn’t take much to get us going. Still, I was starting to wish I hadn’t invited everyone to Jamaica. More and more, I wanted to spend time with just Adrian. But without being married, he and I being alone on a beautiful beach pretty much wasn’t going to happen. I closed my eyes. Maybe we could get married before we went and have that as a honeymoon. The phone beeped. “Tracey, you still there? I think that’s Adrian.”

  She giggled. “I’m going. Pray for me, okay?”

  I’d been praying since the day they announced their engagement. “Will do.”

  I pressed the button and listened for Adrian’s voice. There it was, real and smooth. Strong. He bid me good-night, told me he loved me and said a short prayer. He was exhausted, I could tell. I prayed, too, and we said our goodbyes. It was a simple thing, those few minutes at night, but they meant a lot. I pulled the headset off my ears and let it dangle around my shoulders, before dragging myself to the back bedroom to grab some bath fizzies just for me—pineapple, coconut and orange with a few drops of Vanilla Smella added in. And of course, one candle.

  Island Wedding.

  Peace.

  It was a hard sell at first, especially since I could only pay for a few people and the whole church was still convinced I was going to marry Adrian anyway, but didn’t want them to be there. Once I explained about my “Marrying My Maker” ceremony, my plans were being discussed and duplicated all over town.

  And that was okay. Most women I knew had spent their lives caring for other people and never so much as lit a candle for themselves. I certainly wasn’t any expert in this allowing-God-to-love-on-me thing, but it was time to learn, especially if Adrian’s planning was anything near what he kept hinting at for our wedding. Rochelle thought I was unwise to let him plan it, but just doing this ceremony was driving me mad. He wanted to give me something and for once, I was going to allow myself to receive. For now, I had Jesus to get ready for.

  I prepped myself with small wonders at first, fresh roses for my dinner table, tea with Austin on Mama’s china, taking out my hair extensions and getting my own hair braided, with cowrie shells in unexpected places.

  Though I only had two weeks to plan, my ceremony of redemption and renewal came together so smooth even I couldn’t believe it. All those travelogues from Adrian with notes in the margin didn’t hurt, either. The sight of Seven Mile Beach took my breath away and from the looks of its dog-eared page, Adrian liked it, too. Some days I got overwhelmed with it all and considering canceling. How could I do such a frivolous thing? Whenever I doubted my worthiness, I heard the Holy Spirit whisper, You are bought with a price…a daughter of the King.

  And so, I pressed on, sending out jasmine-scented linen notes written in Daddy’s calligraphy to remind travelers where to be, and to remind Adrian that I loved him. The travel agency, familiar with vacation weddings, picked up the flowers and decorations, leaving me only with a dress to choose. I took my array of pastel sheaths on the rounds for my friends and family to see.

  My sister picked pink. Rochelle, lime. Tracey used Photoshop to change the lemondrop-colored dress into a multicolored rose print. “Dana’s Garden,” she’d named the file. Adrian smiled, but said nothing. When we were alone, I asked him why he hadn’t expressed a preference.

  “They’re all nice, but it’s your choice.”

  “Uh-huh.” He couldn’t fool me that easily.

  He shrugged. “Why not white?”

  I raised an eyebrow. “I think you know exactly why not.”

  He shook his head. “See, that’s your flesh talking. You’re forgetting who you are. Who God is. It’s your decision, but when you go back, consider trying on the white.”

  Though I’d decided against it, on a whim before I left the store empty-handed, I did try on something white. Adrian might have heard me screaming six blocks away. Forty pounds slimmer than I’d been in years, I still hadn’t braved so much as a white towel, much less a straight dress. But this one with a gauzy jacket and bows at the hem was perfect. Just perfect.

  It occurred to me that on the day I got saved, I’d found Trevor and Dahlia together and now I’d recommit again on a happy day, but one that found the two of them apart. I’d invited them both to the ceremony, even offered to pay their way—with their own money, don’t you just love that? Though still in pastoral counseling and spending more time apart these days than together, they agreed, admitting that they wanted to reconnect with Jesus and makeover that day, as well. They only had one stipulation.

  “Invite us to your wedding, too. And we’ll do likewise.”

  I smiled, excited at the thought of keeping both promises.

  The seating on the plane worked out with me next to Austin, her hubby across the way and Rochelle on the other side of him. I could see Adrian’s head if I leaned down and to the right. We switched seats so Austin and Josh could be together, but Adrian let Rochelle stay next to me. He knew both of us all too well. She needed some gi
rl time. Jericho, Daddy and Shemika were two rows in front of us discussing the Bradley birthing method or some such foolishness. Dad kept emphasizing that it was also known as the husband-coaching method of birth. I have to give it to him. He never lets up. Dahlia, Trevor and my niece were all together in first class, looking too good for us to be mad at ’em. To my surprise, Jordan had showed up at the send-off with a packed bag and now sat three rows behind us. He’d insisted on coming to escort Rochelle down the aisle with the rest of Christ-maids or whatever they were. I was thankful to them both, knowing the tension between them.

  I turned to face Rochelle. “So what does this mean? You and Jordan being here?”

  “It means that we love you. Very much. Nothing more.”

  “But where’s his girlfriend? She wasn’t at the church. I haven’t seen her since—”

  “They’re getting married. Next spring.”

  I gulped back a mouthful of stale airplane air. And a few tears, both of regret and relief. What a weird feeling. Not that I was too hot on the idea of Jordan marrying that woman, especially if she insisted on dressing like Elvira, but for some reason I was glad that Rochelle would be moving on. My face sobered. Or would she move on to another weirdo from the singles group? Even worse, would she move on from our family? From being my friend? “How do you feel about all this?”

  She stared over at Jericho, smiling in oblivion next at Shemika. “I really don’t know. I’ve got bigger things to worry about than your brother now. Shemika and Jericho will make it through the school year, but next year will be harder. Mother Holly can only do so much. Shemika may end up moving in and Jericho moving in with Jordan for a few months. I don’t know.”

  I nodded. This year, this trip, was a turning point for us all.

  I laced my fingers between hers, trying to ignore the rising voices of Tracey and Ryan behind us. “Well, whatever happens, know that I’m here for you. And I support you.”

  “I really hope you mean that.” Rochelle smiled a tight smile. She eased back on her pillow and closed her eyes.

  I stared out of the airplane window into the clouds, trying to interpret my friend’s last words. Pineapple scent wafted back to me from the seat ahead. “We’ll have our time soon,” he mouthed when no one was looking. We planned to announce our wedding plans after my ceremony, but everyone, including our pastor, seemed confident that we wouldn’t make it back to the States without being wed.

  One of Adrian’s wide, brown hands reached back and clutched mine. My mind ceased pondering Rochelle’s puzzles. I had mysteries of my own to figure out.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Is it really that blue?”

  My father stared doubtfully at the sequined gown of turquoise lapping against Negril’s white sand.

  Jordan walked in tandem with Rochelle and Jericho to the right of us. “It’s real, Dad.”

  I was with my father. The view was incredible. Even the occasional gusts of wind felt good, though the sand shifting between my feet and the sandals Rochelle had made me was a little distracting at first. We marched silently, as the waves rushed to the shore, then eased back, like somebody getting up from a table after a good meal. Across the beach under a rose-covered arch, I could see the waiting minister, bent and brown with graying dreadlocks. Strains of the accompaniment band whispered in the mist of the ocean, so salty against my lips. I’d picked the right place and the coordinator had done an excellent job. Everything seemed too good to be true. Especially Adrian.

  I smiled at our little crowd, made bigger by the surprise arrival of my aunt Cheryl and my two cousins last night. Only Renee, who’d been too deep in Fingerhut bills to attend, was missing. One never knew when people would come through for you. That’s what I’d like to think anyway. In truth, they were here to go home and give a full report to the gossip mill, but hey, the more the merrier.

  We ambled toward the ceremony location, taking time to appreciate the surroundings and God, who had created them. A few feet separated Adrian and me. He shielded his brow from the sun with one hand, taking in the view. “You picked well, Dana. This place is unbelievable.”

  We reached for each other’s hands at the same time. Adrian’s grip was sure. He was trying to be let my family have me, I could tell, but more and more, I wished we had this beautiful scene all to ourselves. “Thanks for your help. It made all the difference.” Jamaica was nice, but it was Adrian who was unbelievable. More so every day since I’d told him I’d marry him. Walking on this beach, I couldn’t remember exactly why I wasn’t marrying him today.

  Adrian kissed my hand. That dull ache that always gripped me when I picked the wrong answer on tests, hit my midsection. Suddenly, I wanted nothing more than to run to the makeshift altar across the sand, though it wouldn’t do us a bit of good. My desire must have shown of my face.

  “There’ll be time for that,” he whispered. “Though I have to admit, this is so beautiful, I’ve got honeymooning on my mind, too.”

  Yes, there would be time. For now, all I had to do was enjoy this day with my family, my friends, my man and God. How hard could that be? Real hard, when a big fine man, smelling like pineapples and cherry wood—must be something from the hotel—is holding my hand. I can almost hear my mother’s voice in my head, “You should have married that boy last week!” And as always, she’d be right.

  I flashed a look at Austin, who was snuggling with her husband a few paces ahead. As if she felt my glance, my new friend looked back and smiled. She knew what I was thinking, I could tell by the curl of her mouth and her wistful stare. “Do it,” she whispered.

  Do it? Do what? Marry Adrian? If only I could. The file with our marriage license and birth certificates was back on my desk in Illinois. Though it would have been nice to have a ceremony here and get married later, that wasn’t going to work, not the way Adrian was looking in that suit. It was the gray one I’d spilled punch on at Tracey’s wedding. I felt just as breathless seeing him in it today as then.

  Tracey walked up and took my left hand, trying to gain balance for her bulging belly. Ryan lagged behind her, chatting with Trevor about his latest album. She smiled, but sadness flashed in her eyes. “This is so beautiful. I’m so proud of you. For waiting. For holding out.”

  The underlying tone in Tracey’s voice left me speechless. Was that…jealousy? “Well, I’ve only been holding out for four years, but I’m thankful for God’s grace to keep me. It was only Him.”

  Tracey snorted, then looked back at her husband. “Yeah, well, be thankful.” She hung her head a little. “I’m ashamed to say it, but I envy you a little.”

  So there it was. No need to wonder. I just nodded, understanding totally. Too bad I hadn’t been woman enough to admit the same thing at her wedding. Tracey’s hand dropped from mine, but her smile stayed fixed. “It’s okay. You know what? On your day, I envied you a little, too, Tracey. I was happy for you, but a little jealous. I didn’t realize it then. So forget it. I understand.”

  She nodded and let out a long breath. “Yes, that’s it. Happy and hurt at the same time. I feel like I’m losing you all over again.”

  “She’s not married yet,” Adrian whispered across us the way the waves played against the beach.

  I winked at him, forgetting for a moment that Tracey was there.

  Tracey patted my hand a final time then let go and waved toward her husband. “Come on, Ryan. Walk with me.”

  “Sure-sure babe.” My friend’s husband bounded towards us with a reluctant grin, one he’d worn in my presence since their wedding day. He knew that Tracey and I discussed him often and didn’t think I liked him anymore.

  I flashed all thirty-two teeth to prove him wrong. “Thanks for coming, Ryan.”

  He forced a smile. “Thanks for inviting me, Dana. And for-for being such a good friend to Tracey.”

  As we closed in on our destination, the minister motioned for us to come closer. His eyes, though brown, sparkled like the bright blue water of Seven Mile Beach.
The band, clad in ochre, crimson and a crisp, happy green moved little, but released a gentle thunder of steel drums and other instruments I couldn’t identify. Dahlia, who’d been somber through most of the trip, broke out in a round of giggles, then stepped across the sand toward me.

  I eyed the minister for a rebuke on how long we were taking, but he merely smiled. The band continued to play.

  My sister moved tentatively at first, and then with purpose. “I know there’s not a lot of time but I feel like I really need to say this, I’m just going to say it.”

  “Go ahead.” Even Dahlia couldn’t dim this moment.

  “I’m embarrassed about how I’ve acted. I don’t know why I try so hard to outdo you, Dana. Maybe because Mama always loved you better—”

  “Now you’re talking crazy, Dahlia,” my father spoke softly.

  “Maybe, but that was how it seemed. Anyway, I just wanted you to know that whenever you and Adrian do get married, you don’t have to worry about me.”

  Adrian kissed my temple. I found my voice. “I’ll always be concerned about you, Dahlia. We both will. Thanks for coming.”

  My father cleared his throat again, this time sounding like a radar siren. “Yes, thank all of you for bringing me to this beautiful place. Just make sure the next time it’s for a wedding. This marrying Jesus business is a good thing, but we could have done this at the Holiday Inn for what it cost.”

  The truth of his words stung a little, but I kept silent. Adrian kissed my cheek.