They Vetoed My Wedding 5 Times I Vetoed Them for Life novel · Chapter 1 of 24
Chapter 1: The Altar Rail
Three days before the sixth wedding date, Delia's mother hands her a sealed letter at the church and collapses at the altar rail; she dies at the hospital, the family says postpone, and Delia says Saturday. Her father asks to see the envelope.
On Wednesday morning, my whole family stood at the altar rail of our church and watched the florist measure the aisle for my wedding.
It was the sixth time we had done this.
The date was Saturday, three days away.
Mom walked the length of the aisle with her reading glasses on their chain, touching the end of every pew.
"The roses go here," she told the florist. "Not the lilies. Delia hates lilies."
I do hate lilies.
She was the only one who had ever noticed.
Theo stood beside me in his good navy jacket, still smelling of the ferry's diesel.
He had come straight off the morning run.
"Five years," he said quietly. "Almost to the day."
"Don't say it out loud," I said. "You'll jinx it."
"Dee, there is nothing left to jinx it with."
He was right.
In our family, anyone can veto anything.
My grandfather wrote the rule on a card, and it hangs framed in the front hall.
Say the word, and whatever it is waits a year.
You get one veto in your whole life.
Dad used his on my first wedding, because the date clashed with the spring sale at the stores.
Cal used his on the second, while I was still licking the stamps on the invitations.
Mom used hers on the third, at the cake tasting, crying into a napkin.
Lorna used hers on the fourth, by text, the week of.
Grandma used hers on the fifth, from her chair at the rehearsal dinner.
I never used mine.
I had never found a reason that was worth it.
"Nobody has a veto left, Dee," Dad said from the front pew.
He put his arm around my shoulders and squeezed.
"Six years is long enough. We're all so happy for you two."
Cal grinned and gave Theo a thumbs up.
Lorna was already taking pictures of the roses.
Dad's reassurance felt warm, and I let it.
In the lobby, Mom handed Cal and Lorna each a white envelope, the same ones she handed them on the first of every month.
"A few days early," she said. "With the wedding and all."
Dad said his had come through the bank, and he winked at her.
She laughed.
Then she looked for me across the lobby, and she stopped laughing.
She came over and took my hands.
Hers were cold.
"Delia, I need you to do something for me."
"Anything."
She pressed a sealed envelope into my palm.
My name was on it in her slanted handwriting.
"Saturday morning," she said. "Six o'clock. Not one minute before. Promise me."
"Mom, what is this?"
"Promise."
"I promise."
She nodded, and her eyes filled.
"I'm so sorry it took me this long," she said.
I had never seen my mother cry in front of the church.
I tucked the envelope into my jacket pocket, because the florist was calling for her.
I watched her walk back down the aisle to the altar rail.
She put one hand on the wood and said, "Oh."
Then she folded onto the floor.
The florist screamed.
Dad got to her first, and Theo was right behind him, already on his knees.
"Ruth. Ruth, look at me."
Theo tipped her head back and breathed into her mouth.
He pressed on her chest with both hands, counting out loud.
"Call 911," I shouted. "Somebody call!"
Cal was already on the phone.
Lorna stood in the aisle with her roses and her camera, and her mouth was open.
The ambulance came in six minutes.
It was not enough.
At the hospital, a doctor in green scrubs came out through the double doors and found the five of us in a row on plastic chairs.
"I'm so sorry," she said. "Her heart stopped before she got here. We couldn't bring her back."
Nobody spoke.
Grandma made one small sound and gripped the arm of her chair.
Dad covered his face with both hands.
"Walter," Grandma said, and she put her hand on his arm. "Walter, breathe."
Then Cal said, very low, "Well. That's Saturday off."
I turned around.
"What did you say?"
"Dee, come on." He rubbed the back of his neck. "We can't have a wedding. Not now."
"It's the respectful thing," Lorna said. She was crying, too. "A year, maybe. Mom would want us to wait."
"Nobody has a veto," I said.
"It's not a veto." Dad lowered his hands. His eyes were red and perfectly steady. "It's mourning, sweetheart. It's what a family does."
I looked at Theo.
He did not say anything.
He only held out his hand, palm up, and waited.
I took it.
Then I looked at the four of them, and I felt the five years sitting in my chest.
"Mom spent her last hour planning my wedding," I said. "So the wedding is Saturday."
"Delia, you're in shock," Dad said.
"I'm not."
I had never said that to him in my life, not once.
It came out easy.
So I said it again, to all four of them. "I'm getting married on Saturday."
Dad's eyes dropped to my jacket pocket.
The corner of the white envelope was sticking out.
All the warmth went out of his face.
"What is that?" he said.
"Mom gave it to me."
"Give it to me, Delia."
"No."
He took a step, and his hand came out flat.
"Give me that envelope. Right now."
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