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thepastisalreadywritten · 11 months ago

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Inside William’s Next Act: Tatler’s May issue goes behind the scenes as the Prince of Wales is rising above the noise — and playing the long game

The burden of leadership is falling upon Prince William, but as former BBC Royal Correspondent, Wesley Kerr OBE, explains in Tatler’s May cover story, the future king is taking charge

By Wesley Kerr OBE

21 March 2024

When I first met Prince William in 2009, he asked me if I could tell him how he could win the National Lottery.

It was a jokey quip from someone who has since become the Prince of Wales, the holder of three dukedoms, three earldoms, two baronies and two knighthoods, and heir to the most prestigious throne on earth.

He was, of course, being relatable; I was representing the organisation that had allocated Lottery funding towards the Whitechapel Gallery and he wanted to put me at ease.

William is grand but different, royal but real.

At 6ft 3in, he has the bearing and looks great in uniform after a distinguished, gallant military career.

He will be one of the tallest of Britain’s kings since Edward Longshanks in the 14th century and should one day be crowned sitting above the Stone of Scone that Edward ‘borrowed.’

William, by contrast, has a deep affinity with Scotland and Wales, having lived in both nations and gained solace from the Scottish landscape after his mother died.

He’s popular in America and understands that the Crown’s relationship to the Commonwealth must evolve.

The Prince of Wales has long believed that ‘the Royal Family has to modernise and develop as it goes along, and it has to stay relevant’, as he once said in an interview.

He seeks his own way of being relatable, of benefitting everybody, in the context of an ancient institution undergoing significant challenge and upheaval, as the head of a nation divided by hard times, conflicts abroad, and social and political uncertainty.

We might recognise Shakespeare’s powerful line spoken by Claudius in Hamlet: ‘When sorrows come, they come not single spies, but in battalions.’

With the triple announcement in January and February of the Princess of Wales’s abdominal surgery and long convalescence, of King Charles’s prostate procedure and then of his cancer diagnosis, the burden of leadership has fallen on 76-year-old Queen Camilla and, crucially, on William.

The Prince of Wales’s time has come to step up; and so he has deftly done.

In recent months, we have seen a fully-fledged deputy head of state putting into practice his long-held ideas, speaking out on the most contentious issue of the day and taking direct action on homelessness.

Last June, he unveiled the multi-agency Homewards initiative with the huge aspiration of ending homelessness, backed with £3 million from his Foundation to spearhead action across the UK.

He is consolidating Heads Together, the long-standing campaign on mental health, and fundraises for charities like London’s Air Ambulance Charity.

He was, of course, once a pilot for the East Anglian Air Ambulance services – a profession that had its downside: seeing people in extremis or at death’s door, he found himself ‘taking home people’s trauma, people’s sadness.’

Tom Cruise was a guest at the recent London’s Air Ambulance Charity fundraiser, William’s first gala event after Kate’s operation.

And more stardust followed when William showed that, even without his wife by his side, he could outclass any movie star at the Baftas.

There’s also his immense aim of helping to ‘repair the planet’ itself with his Earthshot Prize: five annual awards of £1 million for transformative environmental projects with worldwide application.

This project has a laser focus on biodiversity, better air quality, cleaner seas, reducing waste and combating climate change. Similar aims to his father; different means to achieve the goal.

On the issue which has caused huge convulsions – the Middle East conflict – William’s 20 February statement from Kensington Palace grabbed attention.

He said he was ‘deeply concerned about the terrible human cost of the conflict since the Hamas terrorist attack on 7 October. Too many have been killed.’

There were criticisms – along the lines of ‘the late Queen would have never spoken out like this’ or ‘what right does he have to meddle in politics?’ – but it was hard to disagree with his carefully calibrated words.

His call for peace, the ‘desperate need’ for humanitarian aid, the return of the hostages.

The statement was approved by His Majesty’s Government, likely cleared with the King himself at Sandringham the previous weekend and also backed by the chief rabbi of Great Britain, Sir Ephraim Mirvis.

Indeed, William and Catherine had immediately spoken out on the horrors of 7 October.

William followed up the week after his Kensington Palace statement by visiting a synagogue and sending a ‘powerful message’, according to the chief rabbi, by meeting a Holocaust survivor and condemning anti-Semitism.

This is rooted in deep personal conviction following William’s 2018 visit to Israel and the West Bank, says Valentine Low, the distinguished author of Courtiers and The Times’s royal correspondent of 15 years, who was on that 2018 trip.

‘William was so moved by his visit to Israel and the West Bank, he found it very affecting, and he was not going to drop this issue – he was going to pay attention to it for the rest of his life,’ says Low.

‘He must feel that… not to say something on the most important issue in the world [at that moment] would be a bit odd if you feel so strongly about it.’

There was concern from some commentators about politicising the monarchy, but this rose above the particulars of party politics.

As Prince of Wales, like his father before him, there is perhaps space to speak out sparingly on carefully chosen issues.

On this occasion, his views were in line with majority public opinion.

On homelessness, news came that same week that William was planning to build 24 homes for the homeless on his Duchy of Cornwall estate.

‘William’s impact is very personal,’ says Mick Clarke, chief executive of The Passage, a charity providing emergency accommodation for London’s homeless.

‘Two weeks before Christmas, the prince came to our Resource Centre in Victoria for a Christmas lunch for 150 people.

He was scheduled to stay for an hour, to help serve, wash up, and talk to people.

He ended up staying for two and a quarter hours, during which time he went from table to table and spoke to every single person.’

Clarke continues:

‘William has an ability to listen, talk and to put people at ease. During the November 2020 lockdown, he came on three separate occasions to help.

It gave the team a boost that he took the time; it was his way of saying: “I support you; you’re doing a great job.”’

Seyi Obakin, chief executive of Centrepoint, one of the prince’s best-known causes, adds:

‘People associate his patronage with the big moments like the time he and I slept under Blackfriars Bridge.

The things that stick with me are smaller in scale and the more profound for it – in quieter moments, away from the cameras, where he has volunteered his time.’

It is a different approach from the King’s.

As Prince of Wales, he was involved in the minutiae of dozens of issues at any one time, working into the night to follow up on emails, crafting his speeches, writing or dictating notes.

Add to that much nationwide touring over 40 years (after he left active military service in 1976), fitting in multiple engagements, often being greeted formally by lord lieutenants.

This is not William’s style. He has commended his father’s model, but he does things his own way.

Although patronages are under review, William has up till now far fewer than either his father or his grandparents.

Charles is sympathetic to William’s approach and his desire to make time with his young family sacrosanct.

They are confidantes, attested by the night of Queen Elizabeth’s death.

They were both at Birkhall with Camilla, reviewing funeral arrangements while the rest of the grieving family were nearby at Balmoral, hosted by the Princess Royal.

Charles has had almost six decades in public life and is the senior statesman of our time, with even longer in the spotlight than Joe Biden.

After Eton and St Andrew’s University, where he met Catherine, William served in three branches of the military between 2006 and 2013, finishing as a seasoned and skilled helicopter rescue pilot.

His later employment as an air ambulance pilot stopped in 2017, when he became a full-time working royal.

At that time, not so long ago – with Harry unmarried, Andrew undisgraced, and Philip and Elizabeth still active – William shared the spotlight.

Now, after the King, he’s the key man.

He can look back on the success of his first big campaign initially launched with his wife and brother in 2016: Heads Together.

‘We are delighted that Prince William should have become such a positive and sympathetic advocate for mental health through his Heads Together initiative and now well-established text service, Shout, among other projects,’ says the longtime CEO and founder of Sane, the remarkable Marjorie Wallace CBE.

‘It is not always known that he follows in the footsteps of his father, the King, whose inspiration and vision were vital in the creation of our mental health charity Sane.

As founding patron, he was instrumental in establishing our 365-days-a-year helpline and was a remarkable and selfless support to me in setting up the Prince of Wales International Centre for Sane Research.’

'Indeed,' says Wallace, 'this is where Prince William echoes the work of his father, showing the same ‘understanding and compassion for people struggling through dark and difficult times of their lives and has done much to raise awareness and encourage those affected to speak out and seek help.

We owe a huge debt to His Majesty and the Prince of Wales for their involvement in this still-neglected area.’

Just as I saw all those years ago at that early solo engagement in Whitechapel, William still approaches his public duties with humour and fun.

‘He defuses the formality with jocularity,’ says Valentine Low, citing two public events in 2023 that he witnessed.

In April last year, while on a visit to Birmingham, William randomly answered the phone in an Indian restaurant he was being shown around and took a table booking from a customer – an endearing act of spontaneity.

On his arrival later that day, the unsuspecting diner was surprised to be told exactly whom he had been talking to.

In October, Low reported, William ‘unleashed his inner flirt as he hugged his way through a visit with Caribbean elders [in Cardiff] to mark Black History Month.

As he gave one woman a hug – for longer than she expected – he joked: “I draw the line at kissing.”

And while posing for a group photograph, he prompted gales of laughter when he quipped: “Who is pinching my bottom?”’

Low believes that when William eventually becomes king, he will be more ‘radical’ than his father but wonders if people will respond to ‘call me William’ when ‘the whole point of the Royal Family is mystique and being different.’

However, William has thought deeply about his current role and is prepared for whatever his future holds.

For now, there is a decision to be made on Prince George’s secondary schooling. It’s said that five public schools are being considered, all fee-paying.

Eton is single-sex and boarding but close to home. Marlborough (Catherine’s alma mater) is co-ed and full boarding. And Oundle, St Edward’s Oxford and Bradfield College (close to Kate’s parents) are co-ed with a mix of boarding and day.

As parents, William and Catherine aspire to raise their children ‘as good people with the idea of service and duty to others as very important’, William said in an interview with the BBC in 2016.

‘Within our family unit, we are a normal family.’ Which may be one reason why he is so resistant to their privacy being compromised either by the media or close family members.

The 19th-century author Walter Bagehot wrote:

‘A family on the throne is an interesting idea also. It brings down the pride of sovereignty to the level of petty life… a princely marriage is the brilliant edition of a universal fact, and, as such, it rivets mankind.’

If hereditary monarchy is to survive, it must beguile us but also demonstrate its utility, that it is a force for good.

William said in that 2016 interview, ‘I’m going to get plenty of criticism over my lifetime,’ echoing Queen Elizabeth II’s famous Guildhall speech in 1992 ‘that criticism is good for people and institutions that are part of public life. No institution – city, monarchy, whatever – should expect to be free from the scrutiny of those who give it their loyalty and support, not to mention those who don’t.’

William saw close up his mother’s ability to bring public focus and her own personal magnetism to any subject or cause she focused on.

He admires his father’s work ethic, the way he ‘really digs down,’ sometimes literally (I understand that gardening is giving the King solace during his cancer treatment).

But the biggest influence for William was Her late Majesty, as he said on her 90th birthday.

As an Eton schoolboy, William made weekend visits to the big house on the hill, being mentored by Granny rather as she had been tutored in the Second World War by the then vice-provost of Eton, Sir Henry Marten.

William said in 2016:

‘In the Queen, I have an extraordinary example of somebody who’s done an enormous amount of good and she’s probably the best role model I could have.’

That said, his aim was ‘finding your own path but with very good examples and guidance around you to support you.'

Queen Elizabeth II had a brilliant way of rising above the fray and usually being either a step ahead of public opinion or in tune with it.

If you are at the helm of affairs in a privileged hereditary position, your duty is to serve and use your pulpit for the benefit of others.

In a democracy, monarchy is accountable.

The scrutiny is intense, with an army of commentators paid for wisdom and hot air about each no-show, parsing each announcement, interpreting each image.

William takes the long view. He has ‘wide horizons,’ says Mick Clarke.

‘There are so many causes that are more palatable and easier to achieve than ending homelessness, but his commitment and drive are 100 per cent.’

The prince seeks a different way of being royal in an ancient institution that must move with the times. His task? To develop something modern in an ever-changing world.

He faces all sorts of new issues – or old issues in new guises.

Noises off from within the family don’t help – Andrew’s difficulties, or the suggestions of prejudice from Montecito a couple of years ago (now seemingly withdrawn), which prompted William’s most vehement soundbite: ‘We’re very much not a racist family.’

William is maybe a new kind of leader who can keep the monarchy relevant and resonant in the coming decades.

Queen Elizabeth II is a powerful exemplar and memory, but she was of her time. William is his own man.

He must overcome and think beyond ‘the unforgiving minute.’

Indeed, he could seek inspiration in Rudyard Kipling’s poem, If.

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

To serve your turn long after they are gone,

And so hold on when there is nothing in you

Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,

Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch[…]

Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,

And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!

This article was first published in the May 2024 issue, on sale Thursday, 28 March.

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wardenparker · 17 days ago

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In the Still of the Night, ch 9

Zach Wellison x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Grown up and looking to the future, Zach Wellison and bunkmate Shane Morrissey are working for a new cruise line that offers its guests a vintage Vegas experience on the Mediterranean. The romantic atmosphere is rubbing off on many of the crew members, and Zach finds himself to be no exception when he meets the beautiful lead singer of Shane's band.

But being wrapped in the seductive arms of an atmospheric cruise is a far cry from real life. How will their relationship fare on dry land? They can't know unless they try.

Rating: M for Mature but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 9.7k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this story include: Cursing, alcohol, food, cooking, eating, discussion of clothing/costumes. Mentions of prison time served, mentions of past homelessness.* Family death, grief, unexpected complications, family secrets, mentions of military service, loss/death, surprises around every corner. Summary: Making a stop at the local food pantry on your way to the soulmate chapel leads to a surprising revelation, and it is only the first of many for this day. Notes: I apologize for the extra delay! It appears my flare up was not done flaring, but I didn't want to make everyone wait a whole extra week for this chapter. Happy reading!

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8

“It will only take a few minutes.” Zach promises. “And it’s on the way.” He feels strange to be arriving to the food bank dressed in the immaculate suit that had once belonged to your grandfather. One of the half-dozen that your grandmother had saved, and he honestly wonders if it had been his wedding suit. It fits so well with the dress you are wearing.

"I don't mind at all." He's taken the lead in driving around over the last few days, and when he pulls into the parking lot of the church that runs the local food bank you're just happy and starry-eyed in the front seat next to him. Your grandmother's dress only needed a few pins to fit perfectly, and Zach is maybe an inch or two taller than your grandfather was based on the way the suit fits – but not different enough for him to be uncomfortable or for him to look anything over than devastatingly handsome.

He gives you a brilliant smile and leans over to kiss you. “Want to stay here?” He asks. “I can get everything out.”

“No, no, I want to help.” This is something that means a lot to both of you, and if you get to show off the fact that you’re obviously wearing a wedding dress? Well…you’ll be very happy to tell anyone who asks why.

He chuckles. “Don’t get your dress dirty.” He warns before opening the door to the SUV to hop out and go around back to open the trunk. There’s several boxes and the cooler with all the cold things. A good donation haul that can hopefully put some food in someone in need’s home.

“I won’t!” The dress, or the nearly convenient blue flats that you wore today that are now your something blue. You stack up two of the smaller boxes in your arms and trot up to the side entrance of the church at Zach’s side.

Zach had called first, to make sure they were accepting donations, so the doors open quickly. The preacher obviously watching out for the donation.

"You must be Mr. Wellison." The preacher opens the door wide to let you in and stops short when he sees you slightly behind your now fiancé. "Bunny! What a surprise." And all at once he understands. "These...these donations must be coming from your grandmother's house. I'm so very sorry for your loss, dear."

"Thank you, Reverend Michaels." The best you can offer is a small, polite smile. It doesn't seem right to be beaming with joy that you're about to marry your soulmate when someone offers their condolences. "But, yes. We thought that these would make a good addition to the pantry, especially since it's not the usual time of year for donations. There are a few more boxes in the car outside."

“Absolutely.” He nods, “I’ve got some extra hands here.” He turns back into the church. “Darrel! Come lend a hand, son.”

It figures.

It absolutely figures.

The spare set of hands the reverend has to offer is none other than your ex-boyfriend.

Darrel comes in from the other room with a smile on his face that drops the second he sees you and Zach – and his expression says it all.

“Don’t worry, we’ve got it.” Zach insists. Although he knows that Darrel hasn’t pressed any farther since you’ve talked to him, he doesn’t like the idea of taking anything from him, including help to donate food.

"It's okay." Darrel's head hangs a little, but he dusts off his hands and motions toward the door. "More hands make light work. It...looks like you're on your way somewhere, anyway."

“We are.” Zach’s jaw clenches slightly, but he doesn’t refuse his help a second time, it would be rude and the reverend would notice. He’s starting to think that Darrel is either the sweetest man in history, or he’s somehow bugged you to find out where you are. He wants to believe the latter rather than the first option.

"We're just dropping a few boxes off." You explain needlessly, and head rather immediately for the door.

"Headed to Windrixville?" Darrel guesses, shoving his hands in his pockets as he follows you out the door.

Zach pauses and looks over at you. Wanting to tell him yes, but it’s not his place.

He's right. It is up to you. Which is why you roll your shoulders back and try to find that poise you're somehow capable of onstage, even in the dirt parking lot of the church. "We're getting married," you tell him honestly. There's no point in being coy – he already guessed.

“Wow, uh, congratulations.” He offers, biting his lip before he offers you a smile that might not be completely genuine, but it’s not mocking or brittle.

"Thank you." While you're very aware that it's not what he wanted to hear out of your mouth, and you don't really want to hurt anybody, the fact is that ending this whole confusion once and for all is going to be a good thing. "I'm sorry about whatever my parents might have said, Darry, but this is it for me. Zach is it for me. And I don't say that lightly."

“He’s your soulmate.” Darrel acknowledges. “Your parents were always against soulmate matches, but- I know that you aren’t.” He swallows and shuffles slightly before moving to grab a box out from the back of the SUV. “Well, the quicker we get this unloaded, the sooner you can get married.”

"We appreciate the help." It's even more awkward than you thought it would be, and for a second all you can think to do is nod your head and reach for the cooler in the trunk.

“Babe, let me get that.” Zach tuts. “Here, take this smaller box, I don’t want you to ruin your dress.”

"Still tryin' to do more than you need to, Bun?" Darrel almost laughs as he shakes his head and looks to Zach. "One day you're gonna wake up to your whole house being redecorated, and she'll do it with a broken arm or something."

“I don’t doubt it.” Zach appreciates the spirit of the comment, and relaxes slightly. “Only reason our suite hasn’t been redecorated is because all the furniture is built in or bolted down.”

“Cruise ship,” you explain, when Darrel looks like he’s about to get a spinning cursor on his forehead trying to wrack his brain for the full context of Zach’s comment. “We’re working on a cruise ship.”

“Right.” Darrel laughs at himself, shaking his head. “I guess I had no idea they bolt down the furniture. But that makes sense.”

“It would make rough seas a bitch.” Zach admits. “Not showing up for work because you got knocked out when the boat rocked.”

“I can’t even imagine.” Darrel admits. He grabs the largest box from the trunk and tucks it up against himself carefully. Safely. “Furthest I’ve ever gone from home is Dallas or maybe Texarkana.”

Zach can’t relate. “I’ve been a lot of places.” He admits as he hefts the cooler up after taking it away from you. “Some I didn’t want to be and never wish to see again.”

“What branch?” Darrel knows that sentiment all too well from his old friends.

“Marines.” He knows that you broke up with Darrel before his tattoo, so he’s not bothered by the question. “Baghdad, Fallujah.”

Darrel shifts the box in his hands and offers one outstretched hand to Zach in all sincerity. “Thank you for your service.”

It’s surprising, so much so that he nearly drops the cooler instead of setting it down inside so he can take the man’s hand. It’s been a long time since he’s been thanked and probably the first time since coming back that he doesn’t mind it. “I’m not good at this kind of thing.” He admits sheepishly. “So, uh, yeah.”

“It’s not an easy thing to do.” Darrel acknowledges. “I lost my kid brother in Fallujah.” His eyes shift to you momentarily, knowing your parents would have told you when it happened, before he looks back at Zach. “Life is complicated. And not usually what you expect. But…it seems like things are looking out okay for you now.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.” Zach murmurs quietly. “I understand completely, even if they weren’t my brothers by blood, I miss every damn one of them everyday.”

You hang back, as surprised as either of the guys are for this encounter but trying to give the whole situation a chance to be less awkward. It seems like they might actually be on a path to civility, and you would love for this trip to end on a positive note. Darrel and Zach being on polite terms would be a hugely positive note.

“It was difficult, but we got his letter a few weeks later.” Darrel tells him quietly. “The guy who was with him when he died mailed it to us.”

“Robby was a good kid.” You offer, knowing that it would have been a strain on the entire family to lose their middle son. Your parents had talked about it like losing a pillar of the community.

“Robby???” Zach looks bewildered and slightly nauseas. “Robert Tyler Rodriguez?” He asks softly, praying that it’s not the same person.

Darrel pales instantly, freezing in his tracks as the puzzle pieces in his mind fall into place. He knew the name Wellison sounded familiar but he just thought maybe it was a client whose house he had worked on or the name of some long-forgotten classmate.

But no. The name Wellison had been printed in block letters on the letter that told his family that their bravest son was never coming home again. He wants to be angry. He wants to be furious. But all he can feel is the ring of hollow sadness in his chest that is left after losing his brother...and a thick feeling of something emotional that has him setting down the box on the stairs up to the side door of the church. "You're the one who sent us the letter," he says finally, when he remembers to speak again.

“Yes.” He had thought it was a fucking coincidence, plenty of people live in Tulsa, Oklahoma. Plenty of people have the last name Rodriguez. Robby had called his brother ‘Dee’. “You’re Dee.” He swallows harshly and wishes he was anywhere else but here. Ready for the onslaught of blame and accusations. After hand delivering Tommy Mansfield’s letter and accompany his body home, being slapped and screamed at for being the lone survivor, he couldn’t come to Robby’s home. Already sinking into a depression that nearly made him eat a bullet, he had just mailed the letter off with his own written note, saying he was sorry.

For the second time today, Darrel Rodriguez holds his hand out to the man who has everything he ever wanted for himself. And for the second time, there is nothing but sincerity behind the gesture. "Thank you for writing that letter," he intones, quiet and serious but no less true. "It couldn't have been easy. And we appreciated getting something other than a paper-pusher on our doorstep to tell us the news."

Zach frowns, staring down at the offered hand and then back up to Darrel’s somber eyes. He cautiously takes the hand again. “You don’t— blame me?” He asks, his voice low and almost disbelieving.

"I admit, it was tempting. The letter came and..." he shrugs slightly, shaking Zach's hand firmly once more. "Grief is sticky. But Robby–" His voice waivers for a second and he takes a breath. "My brother knew what he was signing up for, when he joined up. He knew the risks and the responsibilities. So while it might be cathartic, to wrap up all the blame and put it on your shoulders–" He glances at you and you know in your gut he isn't just talking about Robby, but Darrel goes on. "That wouldn't be fair. You're not responsible for the fate of the whole world. Other people make choices, too."

“I miss him every day.” Zach chokes out. “Like I know you must- only more so.” He would never compare his grief to losing his friends and brothers in arms to losing a true brother. “I still have nightmares about it. I miss them all so fucking much.”

"He wrote to us about his brothers." Darrel admits. Now that they're standing face to face, he has to admit the hand of fate has bashed in his door rather thoroughly. "It's– I didn't think I'd ever actually meet one of them. After everything. Well– you know."

“I’m the only one that survived.” A fact that he has tremendous guilt over every single day. Since getting back on his feet, meeting you, he has vowed to make sure that it’s a life well worth the sacrifice. He still doesn’t know why it was him that made it home, but he doesn’t hide away from it anymore.

“Well…” Darrel clears his throat gently and gestures to you. There’s more than a time of sadness in his voice but he still tries to mask it. “You had something important to come back for.”

Zach understands his meaning and gives him a solemn nod. “Yes I did.” He agrees.

If you're honest, this unexpected connection is something of a relief. Darrel isn't the enemy, after all. He was misled by your parents and has been gracious since meeting Zach. It's awkward, sure, but not ill intentioned. "I'm glad you guys got a chance to talk," you tell them, and are very happy to mean it.

“I owe you both an apology.” Darrel murmurs softly, glancing between the two of you. Zach shakes his head. “You don’t owe me anything.” He promises, knowing that he can’t blame the man he has learned so much about from his younger brother. He had been told he was a good man, and he’s glad to learn that is true. He might have been a little overeager in his plans, but he was accepting the situation now.

"The people who owe an apology are my parents." And you will be insisting that they give it.

“Babe.” Zach shakes his head. “I don’t think they will think they’ve done anything wrong.”

The fact that he's right is frankly upsetting, but you'll wrangle with that later. On a day when you aren't looking forward to marrying your damn soulmate. Instead of pressing it, you nod a little. "My parents and I have a little work to do between us, I think. But that's...that's not something to dwell on today." It does impact the fact that you're essentially eloping, but again...that is a thought for a different day.

“No, today is for us.” He agrees, shuffling slightly and moving over to your side. “Are you ready?” He asks, the boxes donated and the air cleared between you and Darrel it seems.

"Absolutely." The one thing in this life that you're absolutely certain of is Zach. No hesitations. So the question of whether or not you are ready to marry him is unnecessary.

Zach takes your hand and starts to turn away. Not sure what else to say to Darrel, but the other man surprises everyone, even himself. “Do you want a witness?” He blurts out.

“What?” You turn around in confusion, certain you must have heard him wrong.

Instead of denying that he said anything, he straightens his shoulders and repeats himself. “Do you want a witness?” He asks again.

"I–" You glance over at Zach, who looks just as startled as you do. "I mean...it would be helpful..."

“Why would you want to do that?” Zach asks seriously. “I know you have deep feelings for her. It- it doesn’t make sense to me.”

“Because—” Darrel pushes out the word and shoves his hands in his pockets. Zach is right. He does have deep feelings for you. He has for years. But pining doesn’t make him a bad guy. “All I ever wanted was for her — for you — to be happy.” He tells both of you. “You folks made it seem like you weren’t. You were still trying to find your way, and like you might come home any time. But you—” If he jams his fingers into his pockets anymore he’s gonna break a finger. “You obviously love your life. And your guy. And if I’m gonna claim that all I ever wanted was your happiness? Then I gotta step up and acknowledge that that means it might not be here with me.”

It’s a very eye-opening outlook and Zach knows immediately where Robby got his sunny, upbeat attitude. “Your brother and I promised we would stand up for each other when we found our soulmates.” He tells him. “I think- it’s….a way to honor him and I would be honored if you would. But it’s not just my decision.” He looks over at you. “What do you want, baby?”

A hell of a lot of thoughts are running through your head at the moment, if you’re honest with yourself, but not the least of them is relief. And some kind of gratitude. This whole issue with your parents can be put to bed with Darrel supporting your marriage, and he deserves to be able to move on after carrying a torch for you for so long. A part of you hopes that this could be that for him. And a way to honor his brother, to boot. “I think it would be nice to bury any grievances,” you admit, looking at both men. “And to have a witness that has a real connection to our pasts.”

“Let me say goodbye to the Reverend and I’ll be ready to go.” He frowns for a moment before looking down at his jeans and work jacket. “I’ll need to change though. Make sure that it’s understood that I support this.”

“Do you still keep a change in your truck?” You ask, figuring that would be easiest. “Windrixville isn’t far. I’ll check what time the chapel closes.”

“No, but I had just picked up my suit from the cleaners.” He chuckles, shaking his head at the irony. “Let me grab it and change. Although I’ll be in my work boots.”

“Doesn’t matter to us.” He could’ve just come along in jeans and it would be the gesture that mattered most. “Take your time.”

“I’ll be quick.” He nods towards both of you and disappears out the door to grab the plastic covered suit out of the back of the truck. It might not seem like the best idea to some, but he knows that it would send a clear message to your parents.

“Well…this stop turned out…unexpectedly.” You turn into Zach’s side and tilt your head to look up at him. “You okay, baby?”

“I never put it together.” He admits sheepishly, shaking his head. “Robby talked about his family a lot.” He murmurs. “I— I came so close to coming out here, but after the first time….” He trails off, knowing you would understand.

“It was still so fresh back then.” With one hand, you gently rub his back. “Grief settles over time. It doesn’t go away, but it’s less harsh. Less angry.”

“I wonder if that’s how we were supposed to meet?” He wonders softly. “He had invited me back to Oklahoma to visit when we came back on leave.”

“Oh…” The realization makes you sag a little. “Maybe. I did…back then I used to come home for thanksgiving every year.”

“He had told me that his family used to do a huge BBQ every year. Something about an entire cow.” He chuckles. “Said I would love it.”

"They do it every year." You nod and blow out a long, slow breath. "The day after Thanksgiving. This great big, day-long thing. People pop in and out all day as they come back from or leave to go Black Friday shopping. His Dad loves it, it's–" Instinct as you hugging Zach tighter, like you're hanging on to that past chance meeting that never happened. "We always used to go for the afternoon. My mom makes this mashed potato casserole that everybody always goes nuts for." It's how you would have met. Years ago. Zach would never have been through the terrors and the hardships of being alone with no place to go, and you wouldn't have been through your own bullshit out in New York. You would have been together.

“Isn’t it amazing how a few seemingly inconsequential decisions completely change the trajectory of your life?” He asks, knowing you are feeling the same.

"It's...weirdly discouraging and encouraging." The feeling is a little disorienting, if you're honest. "Knowing that things will always end up where they're supposed to, but that the journey might be pretty fucked up along the way."

He hums, pressing a kiss to your hairline. “We’ve had a rough road, but it’s getting better.” He admits. “Better now that we are together.”

******

The little chapel in Windrixville is built on the top of a hill where an old church burned down back in the 60s. The space around it is manicured now instead of just being a wide-open field, and soulmates who choose to get married here in a less formal ceremony have the chance to take a few pictures in the chapel's flower garden. Zach pulls the rental car into the mostly empty parking lot and Darrel's truck parks right on the other side.

"Are you ready to do this?" He asks after shutting off the engine. He knows that you are protected legally, the pre-nup already signed and filed, but he wants to make sure that this - done this way - is what you truly want.

"Absolutely." You take his hand and lean across the center console to give him a kiss. "I wanted to be married to you. To start that next step together."

“Are you sure you don’t want the entire big thing?” He asks, smiling softly.

"Do you?" It's worth making sure that he's not just doing this for you. That he isn't missing out on something he's dreamt of just because you don't care about skipping the expense.

“Baby, I have no family but you.” He reminds you softly. “All that matters is that you and I are together.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” You’ll remind him later on that he had so many people who love him as well as a kitchen full of staff who admire the hell out of him. For now, you have a wedding to focus on.

“What indeed?” He grins and notices that Darrel has climbed out of his truck and is standing in front of it, doing something on his phone.

"Everything good?" You ask, slipping out of the SUV and back into Zach's side. Darrel's face is drawn in concentration.

“Yeah.” He sighs and slips the phone into his front jacket pocket. “Ranch stuff.” He tells you. “My parents are talking about selling.” He’s been trying to change their minds, but the decision is ultimately theirs.

"Oh god, I'm so sorry." Your shoulders drop again, knowing that must be devastating for him. Darrel always loved the ranch so much.

“It’s okay.” He shakes his head. “This isn’t the time to worry about what might happen anyway.” He shoots you a smile. “Let’s go get you crazy kids hitched.”

The girl sitting at the reception desk inside the chapel smiles when three people walk in the front door, two of them obviously matching in nice clothes. "Well hey there." She chirps happily. "What can we do for you folks today?"

Zach walks up the counter with a nervous, yet eager, grin. “Uh, we want to get married.” He tells her, pointing between you and him.

"That's what we're here for." She smiles and starts shuffling through some unseen things at her desk. "Let me get the paperwork together. I'll need legal identification for both of you and I'll get the chapel ready. The justice will be down to see you in a moment." She waits just long enough for you and Zach to hand over your driver’s licenses, then thanks you and hustles off down a hallway that you hadn't noticed.

“Well that was pretty easy.” Zach murmurs, sure that there would be some kind of test or proof required that you are soulmates.

"I'm sure they'll want to see our marks. But that's easy enough."

“We can just show the initials .” He reaches for your hand and rubs his thumb over the webbing between your thumb and finger. It’s a calming pressure point for him and apparently for you too, he’s discovered. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Just that little measure of sweet steadiness from him has you feeling comfortable and confident again.

If there was even the slightest sliver of doubt that this man was your other half, part of your soul, it dies when you smile at your soulmate. Darrel realizes that he’s never seen that light in your eyes, at least never directed towards him. You are looking at Zach like he hung the moon in the sky, responsible for the stars sighing bright. You had always enjoyed looking up at the stars and you are looking at Zach with the same wonder. It clicks that door shut permanently inside his heart and relegates you towards the bittersweet first love you has always been and he had just not been able to accept.

The man who comes out to meet the new, happy couple asks a few questions and takes a peak at shared marks, all the while explaining how these short ceremonies work. “And you’ve brought a witness.” He looks very pleased at that. “Fantastic. Is there anything special you would like to include in your ceremony this evening?”

“Babe?” Zach turns towards you and lifts his brows. “Anything you want?” He knows next to nothing about weddings and what is expected, so he will leave it up to you. He’s just wanting to be your husband.

For a second you consider, knowing that the important part of today is just that you want to be married to your soulmate. “Do you have a version of your ceremony that talks about partnership instead of obedience?” You ask finally, deciding that while the old-fashioned wording is fine, what you and Zach have really is about being a team.

He smiles when you say that, nodding in agreement when the man discreetly looks over at Zach for his opinion on the issue. “Partnership.” He echoes. “That would be perfect.”

"Of course." The man nods politely and brings the three of you into in a large circular room that is mostly walled in glass. This ceremony room looks out over the garden surrounding the building and is lit with soft, romantic light as well as having some gentle music playing. It's not cheesy like you had expected one of these places to be, and you slip your hand into Zach's as you walk inside together.

This is actually pretty romantic, like it would actually be a venue a planned wedding would choose. He’s impressed and he smiles over at you. “Should have gotten you a bouquet of flowers.”

“It’s ironic,” you tell him, happily clinging to his arm. “We get each other flowers all the time. But don’t have any today.” Every opportunity to get a few fresh flowers on a land excursion always results in a bouquet in your room. It’s amusing that they’re missing today, when other people would consider them mandatory.

He chuckles in approval and nods. “It’s fitting.” He agrees. “The irony makes it even more so.”

The ceremony, for what it is, is short. The justice lays out a few pieces of paperwork and has you and Zach check the pertinent information that the receptionist filled in from your IDs, and then he asks Darrel to stand to the side of the small altar while he says a few words about togetherness, partnership, and commitment. It's actually a very nice speech, and one that you're glad that you saw a copy of amongst the papers on the altar with your soon-to-be signed marriage license.

It’s surreal, standing with you and Zach can’t concentrate on the words being spoken. Focusing on the way your eyes soften and melt as you look at him, obviously moved by what the justice is saying. He just knows that he is the luckiest man in the entire world right now, bonding himself to his perfect soulmate.

It’s like being wrapped up in a whirlwind, the way reality has become fuzzy around you, and all you can see is Zach. You both manage giddy, teary I do’s, and the pronouncement of: “You may more kiss your bride” makes your heart leap.

With the hand not holding yours, he reaches for your waist, pulling you close. “Until my dying breath.” He vows, nudging his nose against yours and then softly pressing his lips against yours in the sweetest kiss.

Three sets of hands applaud politely, while you are off somewhere on Cloud 9, and in the furthest part of your mind you can swear that you hear bridal music playing. None of it matters, though. Nothing beyond standing here being joined with Zach and being able to go forward into your future with him.

This is the bliss you never trusted yourself to dream about. Strive for. It’s right here in your hands.

******

Three hours later, Zach pulls into the driveway of your parent’s house, the blissful euphoria of getting married isn’t even dimmed by the upcoming confrontation. Another family dinner. One where Darrel has been invited again, this time by you and Zach. He shuts off the engine. “Ready, sweetheart?”

“Ready.” Back in your regular clothes — and happily relaxed after celebrating your marriage back at the hotel room — you give his hand an encouraging squeeze and lean over the car’s console to kiss him. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He’s not sure how they will react, but he��s sure it won’t be good. His fingers play with your new - handed down - wedding set.

In the time since the wedding you’d not only celebrated enthusiastically, but also stopped at a large fine jewelry store in the city to pick out a wedding band for Zach. He’ll probably choose to wear it on a chain while he’s working in order to stay safe and not have it get crushed with ingredients every week, but it was importance to both of you for him to have the simple gold band on his finger. “We’re in this together, babe,” you remind him, pushing open the car door and flashing him a grin. “Whatever happens, happens. They’ll probably be more upset about the inheritance than the marriage.”

“I hope not.” He frowns, shaking his head. “I know Ms. Flores said the will could be contested, but it would be foolish.”

“We’ll see what happens.” Honestly, your parents are more of a wildcard than you had ever expected, so tonight is a bit of a question mark as far as they are concerned. “We should go in.” The bottle of bubbly you picked up as a gesture of celebration is in one hand and you take his with the other, then head to the door.

As agreed, Darrel will be arriving in less than five minutes. To create a buffer, or distraction if it’s needed. Zach knows that your mom had an appointment with the attorney today and is surprised that you haven’t heard a word from them.

“Mom?” When you open the front door the house is silent, and you can’t think of anything more foreboding. “Dad?”

Maybe they are in the kitchen?” He asks softly, holding tight to your hand as you both step inside and he shuts it behind the two of you.

They aren’t. They aren’t on the back porch by the grill, and they aren’t in the living room.

Where your parents are, is upstairs in your bedroom. And the sight is as confusing as it is unexpected.

“Do you want me to give you a minute or stay?” He doesn’t know exactly what this means, but he sees the confusion marring your beautiful face when you see your parents in your childhood bedroom.

“No.” You shake your head and reach for his hand instead of letting him move away. “No. Whatever is going on, I want you with me.”

“Then I’ll stay right here.” He promises softly, frowning as he turns back towards your parents.

"I–um–" Despite being sure that this is going to be awkward, or perhaps because of it, you're not quite sure where to start as you step closer to your bedroom. "Hi, guys...? Are we not having dinner tonight?"

Your mother looks up, her head buried in an old photo album and she bites her lip. “You’re so grown up.” She shakes her head and looks down at the photos when you were probably three or four. “I can’t believe how much things have changed.”

"Yeah, it's..." You don't want to point out the obvious – that of course things have changed – since this might be an unexpected part of your mother grieving for her own mother's death, but it does strike you as odd. "It's been a long time since those were taken."

“You were such a happy little girl.” She murmurs, flipping the page and catching sight of a photo of you and your grandmother. Her breath catching on a small sob. “So close to her.”

"I miss her too, Mom." Yes...this is definitely an odd part of the grieving process. Your eyes turn up to meet Zach's and he nods, urging you forward to go into your room. He's close behind when you sit down on the bed next to your mother. "But she's with us every day as long as we take the time to remember her."

“I can’t believe it.” She murmurs softly. “I never really believed that she would be gone.”

"It's going to be hard to get used to." For once, you agree with your mother wholeheartedly.

Your father hums as he pats your mother’s back. “It will be better in time, dear.” He comforts her.

"Do you want to bring some of the photos downstairs?" You offer, wondering if they might have lost track of time and forgotten that you were coming for dinner tonight. "Zach and I can cook so you two can look through photos, if you like."

“Dinner?” She frowns for a moment and then her eyes widen. “Oh my god! I forgot about dinner!”

"It's totally okay, Mom," you promise her. Your hand is on her back now, too. Rubbing soothing circles. "Let us take care of it, okay? Darrel should be here any minute and we can all share stories. How does that sound?"

“Darrel?” She frowns and shakes her head. “You said— why would Darrel be coming? I didn’t invite him.” Her eyes beg you to believe her, knowing how upset you had been earlier when he had shown up that first day.

“I know you didn’t.” A gentle pat of your mother’s shoulder as you sit behind her doesn’t seem like quite enough, but she isn’t a very huggy person. That’s your father. “We invited him.”

“You did?” The confusion in her voice is clear, much like the frown on your father’s face. Both of them had been unhappy with the boundary you had set and now you seem to be throwing that all away.

“We ran into him earlier and had a good talk,” you explain. It’s time says the look in your eyes when you glance up at Zach, and his subtle nod is encouraging as he moves closer to your side. “A lot has happened today,” you tell your parents gently, trying to be kind to them in their grief.

“I know.” Your mother swallows harshly and looks away, fidgeting with a folded piece of paper that is under the bottom of the photo album. “We had the meeting with Mother’s lawyer today.”

"So did we." It's probably against some kind of disclosure policy for Ms. Flores to disclose to your parents that you spoke with her this morning, or what was spoken about, but just in case it's not you lean toward complete transparency. "Why don't we all go downstairs, Mom? We can talk about that after dinner."

She nods, not saying a words, not even sure if she has the words to say. It’s been a long day, filled with harsh truths that she’s been forced to confront.

"We'll take care of dinner," you offer again, and you and Zach lead the way back downstairs. The headlights of Darrel's truck are just shutting off in the driveway, and you're hoping that the distraction of another person here will help break some of the tension.

It’s rare that your mother doesn’t interject some opinion, but this time, she just nods. “Whatever you want to do.” She murmurs.

The best you can do is chalk it up to grief again, because normally she would be either insisting in doing things herself or giving you step by step instructions. “I’ll figure it what we have,” you offer to Zach. “Do you want to let Darrel in and maybe we can all talk in the kitchen while we make whatever dinner is going to be?”

“Come dear, let me make you some tea.” Your father hooks his arm around your mother’s waist and steers her towards the kitchen.

Zach kisses your forehead and goes to say hello to the man he never expected to be friendly with, and you lead your parents into the kitchen. While your mother sits down at the table and your father puts a kettle on, you take inventory in the refrigerator and in the cupboards. It seems like your mother intended to make pork chops and mashed potatoes casserole tonight, and you're relieved to find some frozen green beans. That's plenty enough food for five people to eat dinner. The few apples in the fruit drawer will make a delicious, quick applesauce.

It feels a little weird to be opening the door of his new in-law’s home as if he were the host, but he sees Darrel and grins in relief. A stark contrast from where he would have been just half a day before now. “Welcome.” He jokes.

"Normally it's Miss June at the door acting like the sun's just come out." He admits. They shake hands – not quite at the level of anything more yet – and nods toward the inside. "You tell 'em yet?"

“Not yet….” Zach admits and shakes his head. “Something’s going on, and it’s odd.”

"Odd?" Darrel tips his head.

“Miss June is….docile.” He huffs quietly, keeping his voice down so it doesn’t carry far. Darrel has spent time with your parents so maybe he can clue the two of you in on something you might not be aware of. “She was up in Bunny’s room, looking at a photo album and didn’t cook dinner.” He shrugs. “She’s letting us cook.”

“That’s…” Darrel frowns, shucking his jacket at the door. “Unlike her.”

“I know.” Even if he hasn’t spent much time with your mother, getting her to let him help with the funeral food had nearly been the beginning of world war three.

“Think it’s finally sinking in?” He asks, concerned because the unexpected nature of your grandmother’s death.

“Maybe?” Zach shrugs and reaches out to slap his shoulder. “Into the fray we go.”

When they come into the kitchen your parents are bent over cups of tea at the table and you’re starting to peel potatoes. “Hey Miss June, Tom.” Darrel steps into the kitchen and moves over towards your parents to hopefully ease the obvious tension in the room. Although it’s not a hostile tension, it’s morose.

“Good evening, Darrel honey.” June sniffles and draws herself up to her full sitting height. “It’s good to see you.”

“How are you doing?” Just because your parents had plans for your future and had also kept him hoping that that dream would become reality, he genuinely cares for the older couple. Leaning down, he hugs her and kisses her cheek.

“Oh, it’s been quite a day.” She returns the kind gesture half-heartedly. “How are you, dear?”

“I’m…good.” He realizes, shifting back and smiling at her. “I’m actually really good.”

"That's good." She nods vaguely, obviously still very distracted, and looks around the room again. "How did...I don't..." Your mother stops, pauses, takes a deep breath, and tries again. "How did this invitation come about?"

“We ran into each other at the church.” He doesn’t think that you’ve told them, so he doesn’t mention that you had invited him over to celebrate, and drive home the point that their wishes for you life were never going to happen.

"We brought over a donation to the food bank," you explain. Zach has already picked up a peeler and it helping you with the potatoes, but you turn around to face your parents at the counter. "We...have something to tell you guys." Everything in the kitchen stops for a moment, and Zach comes back to your side – dirty hand reaching for dirty hand in an odd sort of symbol of the promise you've made. No matter what, you're in this together.

"We went up to Windrixville a few hours ago." You brace yourself for the coming storm of disapproval. "To get married. Darrel came as our witness."

A pin drop could be heard if one fell. Zach, you and Darrel seem to collectively hold your breaths to see what their reaction would be. Your father looks like he was sucker punched in the gut and your mother immediately bursts into tears.

To be honest, it's better than you were expecting. There's no screaming, you aren't immediately being thrown out, and there is a distinct absence of guilting you about how you're dishonoring your family for reasons that make absolutely no sense. Still, it is a very big life event to have happen unexpectedly so you have to give them a little bit of grace.

“I did it Tom, she said I was going to do it and I did it.” She wails, jolting your father out of his frozen shock to turn and curl his arm around your mother.

“You didn’t—”

“I did!” She insists, pulling that same folded paper out of her pocket and shaking it as if it would explain everything. “Our daughter got married without us there because I’ve driven her away!”

"Mom, what is that?" Instantly, you're wiping your hands off and moving to your parents' side. The sting of the fact that it's true can be dealt with another time. There had been barely a thought paid to the fact that your parents would be there today. They have been so obviously against you and Zach as a couple – as soulmates – that you had simply figured that no matter where or when you got married, they would never want to be there.

Your mother can’t talk, too busy burying her face in your father’s shoulder as she sobs her heart out, but Tom gives you the answer you need. “Your grandmother left her a letter.” He murmurs quietly.

"She seems to have left them for all of us." The envelope is barely in your mother's grip and one nod from your father is enough permission to take it. Her name is scrawled across the front and there is just one sheet of paper inside, but it's easy to tell that your grandmother must have sat down and written all of these letters at once. Slightly morbid, if you're honest, but she was always very conscious of her own mortality after her friends started to get sick and begin dying.

Your father just hums and Zach shuffles behind you as he watches your mother continue to cry.

Junie, the letter begins, in your grandmother's distinctive handwriting. I hope very much that you never need to read this note. That I am simply able to tear it up and write you something new. But unfortunately you inherited my stubborness, and we both passed it on to Bunny. If things were a bit less dramatic right about now, you would roll your eyes at that, but this isn't the time.

I don't have any delicate ways to try to say this anymore, dear. Perhaps if I had been more direct with you these last few years, the situation would be different. But the fact is, my dear, you are losing your daughter. Your eyes widen, staring at the page, tears springing to your own eyes just the same as they are to your mother's. Had your Gram really been so on the nose with her about all this? It seems so...dramatic?

Punishing her for changing her major should have been where I put my foot down with the whole thing, but this nonsense with Darrel Curtis has to end. She is in love, Junie, and so excited about it. It's no good to play pretend anymore, and I'm sorry if it still hurts, but losing your soulmate doesn't mean that Bunny deserves to lose hers. Or that she will be just as happy with someone else, the way you have been with Tom. Darrel is a sweet boy, but he and Bunny want different things. It's as plain as the nose on my face.

Let her choose her own life, Junie. Let her be happy and just be happy for her. I know you don't get the same once a week phone calls that I do. I know that you don't get to be updated on her life the way I do. She is only going to drift further out of your grasp if you keep this up.

Zach can see the way you tense, covering your mouth with your hand and he moves over to your side. Sensing, rather than seeing the tears and wanting to comfort you, no matter why you might be crying.

“I just – I was trying to stop her from caring.” The broken explanation probably doesn’t make sense to anyone who hasn’t experienced loss, but your mother tries desperately to explain. “I love you, you know I do and I always will, but- but you know how it still aches to this very day.” Tom shushes her softly, nodding and murmuring quietly. “I know sweetheart. I know.”

“You had a soulmate?” For your entire life, you had always known your parents as the perfect unit. Both of them choosing to be together instead of having the universe choose them for each other. Your father’s mark is shared only with his twin brother — a rare instance of platonic soulmates — but you had lived your entire life thinking that your mother had never, ever born another person’s mark.

Darrel’s eyes widen, aware that this is a conversation that is between family and he is not family. “I’m going to go light the grill.” He offers quietly to Zach, reaching out and squeezing Tom’s shoulder as he moves by.

“Mom?” You feel like you’re shaking, barely registering Darrel leaving the room as you step closer and practically fall down into a chair. How long has she been lying to you? How much has she lied about?

She pulls away from Tom’s shoulder, eyes devastated and red. “I- I never knew how to talk about it, about him without-“ she chokes out a sob and covers her mouth as fresh tears pool. It takes her a moment, the steady and comforting hand of her husband around her shoulder as she swallows harshly and continues on. “Yes.” She whispers quietly. “I had a soulmate.”

“And…” You swallow back accusations and anger for the sake of seeing her so upset, but are grateful when Zach comes to sit down beside you. “He died?”

“Car accident. September 10th, 1979. Four twenty-five in the morning.” She sighs, closing her eyes as she starts to tell you the secrets that have been buried for years. “He was- older.” Even though she isn’t looking at you, she bows her head. “Dropped out of college already to make his dreams of being a rock star come true.”

The exact date and time. Shit. That, you know without hesitation, is exactly how you would be if anything happened to Zach.

But no wonder. No wonder she had freaked out when you changed your major to music after your first semester of college. “You were just a kid…” You realize a second later. September 1979…your mother was nineteen years old.

“Still, I knew that I wanted to be with him forever.” She looks over at Tom, a watery, apologetic smile on her face. “We met at his show. His band was performing at my college. It was…..instant. All consuming.” She swallows harshly and looks back at you. “Traveling musicians think they are invincible. He was coming back to see me.” Her chin wobbles and she presses her lips together to stop herself from crying again. “Late night, overly tired….” She closes her eyes again. “He fell asleep at the wheel.”

“I’m so sorry, Mom.” What else can you say? What could even come close to expressing how awful it is to hear that your teenage mother lost a man she loved dearly? The best you can do is reach for her hand and listen.

“His name was Marcus.” She knows you are upset at her, there is a tightness to your eyes. “He was 23.”

“And I’m guessing…” The breath you draw is sharp. Anguished in a way you can’t quite describe. “That I hit a nerve by deciding to pursue a music career.”

“I didn’t mean-“ she shakes her head. “I was so shocked when you choose music, even though I shouldn’t have been.” She sighs. “I was trying to ignore it.”

“You didn’t have to.” To banish the memory of an entire person sounds endlessly painful and complicated. It sounds like torture. “We could have talked about it. About him. The whole situation.”

“It—” she glances over at Tom. “It might have confused you. I didn’t want that.” The one hand held in yours squeezes. “I love your father.” She promises.

“I don’t doubt that for a second,” you assure her, giving her that gentle squeeze in return. “But what’s confusing about knowing that my mother has a big enough heart to have loved two people in her life?”

“I don’t know.” She murmurs softly. “We just agreed that you should just believe that your father and I didn’t have traditional soulmates.”

“What I don’t understand, though…” Well, there is a lot that you don’t understand, frankly, but the larger puzzle pieces are starting to come together. “Is why you would object to me finding Zach?”

“Your mother never wanted you to ever experience a tenth of that kind of pain.” Tom murmurs softly. “She was broken, and part of her heart has never healed.” He picks up the hand you aren’t holding and kisses it. “When she was carrying you, we talked about what we wanted and we just felt it was best. She was having nightmares, vivid ones.”

“Will you finally tell me how you met Dad?” The question jolts out of you like a lightning bolt, not meaning to be accusatory but hoping for some kind of clarification. Your parents had always said they were best friends and that was it. Nothing more was ever said and it has felt like a lie of omission for your whole life. Now you know why.

“We grew up next to each other.” Tom admits. “At least since third grade when I moved next door.”

June sighs softly, hoping you don’t hate her now. “Tom was over at the house when the officer came. They knew he was headed to my house because—” She swallows. “I was his wife.”

“Mom.” Your back hits the flat of the chair with a thud when you nearly fall backward while sitting up. “You were married to your soulmate?”

“I was still in college,” she is begging you to understand. “And there didn’t seem to be any need to wait. We were young, in love and destined to be together.”

“I’m not mad at you for being in love.” It seems important to clarify. To be particular about what has your stomach and chest all tied up in knots. “I don’t care how many people you’ve lived or how many you married. I’m upset because you hid an entire life from me and pretended you had never done anything other than the perfect thing. It’s made me feel like a fuck up for my entire adult life.”

“Oh sweetheart.” She wilts at your confession. “I wanted you to think things were perfect so if you chose to be with Darrel, you wouldn’t feel like you were wrong.” She reaches out and caresses your face, letting go of Tom’s hand. “You are probably the one thing in my life I got right.”

“The problem wasn’t that you liked me being with Darrel. It’s that you never let it go.” You’re both crying not, hot tears of anxiety, fear, and anguish staining both of your faces. “To the point where the poor guy sat on his hands waiting for me to come home and never got to go live his own life, and I felt like if I invited you to my wedding you would have hated me for it.” Sniffling through the tears, it’s only Zach’s steady hand on your back that keeps you from accelerating past upset and into angry.

“I am so sorry.” She swallows harshly. “I should have let it go a long time ago. I should have been happy that you were happy. Instead, I ruined it for you.” She shakes her head. “I blame myself for him dying and I got so worried about you feeling that pain that I caused a very different kind of pain for you.”

“Seems like Gram was the only one who knew the whole story.” The long, low exhale you let out just makes you feel tired. Exhausted, really. Another layer of missing your grandmother seems to settle on top of you in the most unpleasant way. “No more secrets.”

“No more secrets.” She agrees, wiping away her tears. “So you are married?” She asks, looking between you and Zach. He nods and she gives a watery smile. “Then we need to celebrate.” She decides. “What do you think? We could order in?”

“Darrel went out to light the grill.” You nod almost dumbly to the porch, where your ex is trying very hard not to watch everything going on inside. “We should get him back in if we’re not going to cook.”

“You shouldn’t do anything on your wedding day.”

“We don’t mind,” you insist, but that stubbornness that all the women in your family share is right there in her eyes. “Alright…” you glance back at Zach and he nods. “We’ll order in. And we’ll talk. All of us.”

“Why don’t I call Redrock Canyon Grill?” Tom offers, patting your mother’s knee and standing up. “They have some good food, Zach. There’s talk of getting a Michelin star.”

“Sounds like it would be perfect.” Zach agrees. His hand has been rubbing soothing circles on your back and doesn’t let up, letting you know that he is here and supporting you but letting you have whatever conversation you need to have with your mother.

“Good.” Your father nods, only stepping away to open the sliding door and beckon Darrel back inside. The night’s plan has changed yet again, but he can hope that there might be fewer tears from here on out.

“I know you must have questions.” Your mother offers quietly, hoping that by answering them, she can repair some of the damage she has done. Repair your relationship. “But I also want to know about your wedding.”

“We went to the soulmate chapel in Windrixville.” It’s something to smile about, thankfully, and tries to put some distance between tears and potentially being upset with each other. “Gram…she left Zach a letter, too. Along with a gift.” You hold out your hand tentatively, wondering if she’ll be upset. “She was going to send him a few of the rings I liked best when I was a kid. She wanted him to choose one to propose with.”

“She did?” She takes your hand and looks down at the ring set on your hand, running her finger over the ring. “I always liked this set.” She looks back up at you and smiles. “He picked beautifully.”

"It's Zach's birthstone." A fact which still feels quite close to your heart. Like it was the perfect reason to choose it. "The wedding was just simple. A few kind words about partnership and support." It does, however, bring a smile to your lips to think about again. "I have the paperwork in my purse. And the receptionist sent us the video of the ceremony already. If–if you want to see it?"

Her eyes light up, a wonderful hope shining in them. “Please? I would love to—” she cuts herself off and starts over. “I would be honored if you shared it with me.” She admits. “I— I’m sorry that you felt that you had to go to the soulmate chapel.”

"We wanted to be married, not to have a giant wedding," you tell your mother honestly. "That's all. We had talked before now about having the captain on the ship marry us."

“You wanted a small wedding.” She’s repeating it like she’s burning that fact into her brain and trying to offer suggestions to ‘fix’ what is not broken. “Then you got what you wanted, sweetheart.” She agrees.

"Like Gram and Grandpa getting married at the courthouse. Just something simple." The video will keep until the guys come back from getting dinner ordered. At your father's request, Zach had joined them to look over the menu.

“As long as you were happy with it.” She promises. “That’s all that matters.”

"I am." Like a peace settling over a tumultuous evening, that truth blankets anything else that might get in the way. "I really am."

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