Page 45 of Seashells and Other Souvenirs

“There.” Rebekah finishes knotting the braided blue bracelet around my ankle.

It matches the ones my cousins transferred from their arms this morning.

Though not intentional, I wonder now if the shade subconsciously factored into our decision when we picked out their bridesmaid gowns. Because they pair perfectly.

Sutton looks up from where she’s pinning Elle’s hair into an elegant side bun. “Though I’m not sure bracelets we bought eight months ago count as ‘something new.’ Or that you can use them for both that and your ‘something blue.’”

“Sure they can.” Elle’s eyes sparkle at me in the mirror. She looks like she’s grown up so much even since last summer, just as she should. “She’s being efficient. Two birds with one stone and all that, Sutton. You of all people—”

Sutton cuts her off with a playful swat on the shoulder from the brush in her hand. “Okay, okay. I just hope Chris is being efficient. He assured me he could get Marcail up from her nap and have her dressed and ready in time for pictures. I promised I wouldn’t check in.”

Rebekah stifles a laugh, and I look down at the ‘something old’ and ‘something borrowed’ in my lap, running my fingers over the worn leather cover of the Bible my granddaddy pressed into my hands last night.

I think about him walking down the aisle to be seated alone in a few hours, and tears gather in my eyes.

“Don’t.” Elle jumps from her chair and squeezes my shoulder. “You’ll ruin your makeup.”

Rebekah takes the tissue Sutton pulls from her bag and hands it to me, kneels down beside my chair, and rests a hand on my knee.

“I wish she was here,” I whisper.

“She is.” Sutton steps over next to Elle. “In your settled smile, Alex. And Bekah’s caring touch. And Elle’s feistiness.”

“And your protectiveness,” Rebekah adds.

I run the tissue carefully under my eyes and look into the three pairs around me to see myself more clearly.

We’ve all changed in numerous ways. We’re all still the same in more.

I can’t verbalize it without choking up, but it’s us— we’re my something old and something new.

It’s a wonder I didn’t see it before, the way time and change only solidify what lasts forever.

When Sutton’s phone chimes, she snatches it from the dresser. “Uncle Zack says they’re ready for us.” She frowns. “Why hasn’t Chris texted yet? And why on earth did I promise not to check in?”

Elle laughs. “Bek and I will go assess the situation. We made no promises.” She links arms with Rebekah, and they slip from the room, leaving me and Sutton alone.

It’s quiet for a moment. I stare into the glass in front of us, watching our reflections stare back.

“You look beautiful. And happy.” She smiles and reaches around to straighten the sand dollar pendant resting just above the neckline of my dress. I catch her hand.“Thank you, Sutton. For everything. But mostly for—”

She reads my mind. “Not interfering for once? I can assure you, it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

I giggle and sniffle at the same time.

“Let the record show,” she continues, “I knew you and Jude were perfect for each other long before either of you did. And just as clearly, I knew that if I said a word about it, I’d ruin it.”

I tighten my grip on her. “Thanks for knowing I needed to figure it out for myself. I just wish I’d done it sooner.”

“I think the timing was just right,” she says. “She would have told you the same thing.” Her eyes fall to the book. “I think you were her favorite.”

My voice comes out wobbly. “You do?”

“After me, of course.” We both dissolve into giggles.

We need to head out onto the beach for pictures before my aunt sends a search party, but I want to read his words once more before getting swept up in the best day of my life; thus far, that is.

I open the Bible and slide out the poem tucked between its pages.

“I haven’t shown this to anyone else yet, but I want you to see it. ”

Sutton nods, and I unfold the paper, knowing that just as holding it close all these months has made it special, sharing it will too.

Birthdays

When you asked me when my birthday was, my heart and mind

were torn.

I never marked another year on the day that I was born.

October’s what the paper says, and April was the lie,

But I always felt the most alive the first week of July.

When we ate cake together and I finally got a taste

Of love, of family, of hope; and I didn’t want to waste

A single wish I’d ever make, sent up from smoky candle.

The thought of this flame burning out is more than I can handle.

I want to make your dreams come true, offer you a life here,

To celebrate a love that grows year after hard-won year.

Every birthday I have left, you can have each one.

Trade the fragile candlelight for a home built in the sun.

I ask for just one present—a past and future too—

For the day my life truly began was the day that I met you.