said.
Though she said no more on the subject, I knew exactly what she meant.
Quite simply, Jane didn’t want Anna to make the same mistake that she had. My wife has always regretted the way we got married. We had the kind of wedding I’d insisted on, and though I accept responsibility for this, my parents played a significant role in my decision.
My parents, unlike the vast majority of the country, were atheists, and I was raised accordingly. Growing up, I remember being curious about church and the mysterious rituals I sometimes read about, but religion was something we never discussed. It never came up over dinner, and though there were times when I realized that I was different from other children in the neighborhood, it wasn’t something that I dwelled upon.
I know differently now. I regard my Christian faith as the greatest gift I’ve ever been given, and I will dwell no more on this except to say that in retrospect, I think I always knew there was something missing in my life. The years I spent with Jane have proved that. Like her parents, Jane was devout in her beliefs, and it was she who started bringing me to church. She also purchased the Bible we read in the evenings, and it was she who answered the initial questions I had.
This did not happen, however, until after we were married. If there was a source of tension in the years we were dating, it was my lack of faith, and there were times I’m sure she questioned whether we were compatible. She has told me that if she hadn’t been sure that I would eventually accept Jesus Christ as my Savior, then she wouldn’t have married me. I knew that Anna’s comment had brought back a painful memory for her, for it was this same lack of faith that led us to be married on the courthouse steps. At the time, I felt strongly that marrying in the church would make me a hypocrite. There was an additional reason we were married by a judge instead of a minister, one that had to do with pride. I didn’t want Jane’s parents to pay for a traditional church wedding, even though they could have afforded it. As a parent myself, I now view such a duty as the gift that it is, but at the time, I believed that I alone should be responsible for the cost. If I wasn’t able to pay for a proper reception, my reasoning went, then I wouldn’t have one. At the time, I could not afford a gala affair. I was new at the firm and making a reasonable salary, but I was doing my best to save for a down payment on a home. Though we were able to purchase our first house nine months after we were married, I no longer think such a sacrifice worthwhile. Frugality, I’ve learned, has its own cost, one that sometimes lasts forever.
Our ceremony was over in less than ten minutes; not a single prayer was uttered. I wore a dark gray suit; Jane was dressed in a yellow sundress with a gladiola pinned in her hair. Her parents watched from the steps below us and sent us off with a kiss and a handshake. We spent our honeymoon at a quaint inn in Beaufort, and though she adored the antique canopy bed where we first made love, we stayed for less than a weekend, since I had to be back in the office on Monday. This is not the sort of wedding that Jane had dreamed about as a young girl. I know that now. What she wanted was what I suppose she was now urging on Anna. A beaming bride escorted down the aisle by her father, a wedding performed by a minister, with family and friends in attendance. A reception with food and cake and flowers on every table, where the bride and groom can receive congratulations from those dearest to them. Maybe even music, to which the bride could dance with her new husband, and with the father who had raised her, while others looked on with joy in their eyes.
That’s what Jane would have wanted.
Chapter Four
On Saturday morning, the day after Anna’s announcement, the sun was already stifling as I parked in the lot at Creekside. As in most southern towns,
Though she said no more on the subject, I knew exactly what she meant.
Quite simply, Jane didn’t want Anna to make the same mistake that she had. My wife has always regretted the way we got married. We had the kind of wedding I’d insisted on, and though I accept responsibility for this, my parents played a significant role in my decision.
My parents, unlike the vast majority of the country, were atheists, and I was raised accordingly. Growing up, I remember being curious about church and the mysterious rituals I sometimes read about, but religion was something we never discussed. It never came up over dinner, and though there were times when I realized that I was different from other children in the neighborhood, it wasn’t something that I dwelled upon.
I know differently now. I regard my Christian faith as the greatest gift I’ve ever been given, and I will dwell no more on this except to say that in retrospect, I think I always knew there was something missing in my life. The years I spent with Jane have proved that. Like her parents, Jane was devout in her beliefs, and it was she who started bringing me to church. She also purchased the Bible we read in the evenings, and it was she who answered the initial questions I had.
This did not happen, however, until after we were married. If there was a source of tension in the years we were dating, it was my lack of faith, and there were times I’m sure she questioned whether we were compatible. She has told me that if she hadn’t been sure that I would eventually accept Jesus Christ as my Savior, then she wouldn’t have married me. I knew that Anna’s comment had brought back a painful memory for her, for it was this same lack of faith that led us to be married on the courthouse steps. At the time, I felt strongly that marrying in the church would make me a hypocrite. There was an additional reason we were married by a judge instead of a minister, one that had to do with pride. I didn’t want Jane’s parents to pay for a traditional church wedding, even though they could have afforded it. As a parent myself, I now view such a duty as the gift that it is, but at the time, I believed that I alone should be responsible for the cost. If I wasn’t able to pay for a proper reception, my reasoning went, then I wouldn’t have one. At the time, I could not afford a gala affair. I was new at the firm and making a reasonable salary, but I was doing my best to save for a down payment on a home. Though we were able to purchase our first house nine months after we were married, I no longer think such a sacrifice worthwhile. Frugality, I’ve learned, has its own cost, one that sometimes lasts forever.
Our ceremony was over in less than ten minutes; not a single prayer was uttered. I wore a dark gray suit; Jane was dressed in a yellow sundress with a gladiola pinned in her hair. Her parents watched from the steps below us and sent us off with a kiss and a handshake. We spent our honeymoon at a quaint inn in Beaufort, and though she adored the antique canopy bed where we first made love, we stayed for less than a weekend, since I had to be back in the office on Monday. This is not the sort of wedding that Jane had dreamed about as a young girl. I know that now. What she wanted was what I suppose she was now urging on Anna. A beaming bride escorted down the aisle by her father, a wedding performed by a minister, with family and friends in attendance. A reception with food and cake and flowers on every table, where the bride and groom can receive congratulations from those dearest to them. Maybe even music, to which the bride could dance with her new husband, and with the father who had raised her, while others looked on with joy in their eyes.
That’s what Jane would have wanted.
Chapter Four
On Saturday morning, the day after Anna’s announcement, the sun was already stifling as I parked in the lot at Creekside. As in most southern towns,
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