Page 312 of Mountain Grump
Ethan said that he knew I would have wanted to pick out a special dress for the occasion. That if I had known it was going to be my wedding day, I would’ve worn something different. He promised that I looked perfect in my yellow dress, but said that he wanted to see me in the bridal gown of my choosing.
I, of course, cried on the sidewalk in front of the store.
He panicked.
I told him I loved him.
He calmed down.
And then I told him I didn’t want to do the wedding over. That it was perfect and part of our story, and we have the photos to prove it. But… I did want a reception.
So, here we are.
It took a few months to get everything arranged. To get my dress made. An ombre number that’s a goldish yellow at the hem of the poofy tulle skirt and transitions up to a bright whiteat the sweetheart neckline. And the whole thing is covered with glittering embroidered stars.
The short sleeves would be far too cold for this March afternoon, but I have my shoulders and arms covered in a white velvet cape, complete with faux fur trim and a hood.
The whole thing is frilly and fancy, and I feel like the luckiest princess in the universe.
Ethan slides a hand under my cape and grips my side. “I can’t wait to suffocate myself under your skirts tonight.”
“Ethan,” I hiss.
“You’re a pig,” Sandra groans as she steps up on his other side.
Ethan laughs, loud and carefree.
My sister-in-law, who insists I just call her my sister, turns to me. “He is a pig, but the dress is stunning.”
I roll my eyes even as I grin.
Sandra showed up for two of the fittings, so she’s just as familiar with the dress as Ethan is. But it’s the most beautiful thing I own, so I appreciate their comments.
“What are you drinking?” Ethan reaches for Sandra’s cup.
She pulls it back out of reach. “It’s hot chocolate. Go get your own.”
Watching these two as siblings has been one of my greatest joys. They’re so lighthearted together and always teasing one another, but you can tell how much they love each other. And I love that they have that.
And with Ethan basically living at my house, Sandra has been visiting a lot, spending the weekends, sleeping at Ethan’s house.
“Babe!” Fisher jogs up to our group. And as Ethan always does when Fisher calls Sandra that, he tries to hit him. Fisher dodges the backhand. I’m pretty sure Fisher uses the pet name simply to annoy Ethan. And it’s another thing I love. “Come watch me destroy these punks in hockey.”
Sandra takes his hand, and they rush off toward the small ice rink that was frozen overnight, just for today.
For our wedding reception.
Kind of.
We’re hosting. And we’re dressed for a wedding. But we decided to make it an event for the whole town, celebrating the success of Uncle Jack’s Wilderness Camp since its opening.
We hired food trucks, an on-site candle maker, a face painter, a DJ. And we have people running educational booths, teaching outdoor survival skills, and experts, like Shelia—who has an eagle with her today—showcasing animals.
It’s the perfect way for us to enjoy a party while sharing the joy with others.
And since I’ve been volunteering at the camp, teaching kids about ducks and showing them how to map the stars, I’ve gotten to know a lot of the locals.
One of the locals, Fisher’s boss, walks by with a child dangling upside down from his shoulders. The little girl is cackling, swinging her arms around.
