“Exactly.” He wiped her cheek with his thumb. “My answer hasn’t changed.”
Lisa threw her arms around his neck. Brandon lifted her into his arms, then looked at Barbara.
“My answer hasn’t changed.”
“Lisa is my daughter.“
Barbara shook her head. “Brandon—”
“She’s my daughter!” He cut her off. “In every way that matters. And IF Emily and I have more children someday, Lisa doesn’t become less my child so somebody else can become more.”
I stepped beside him then and looked Barbara in the eye.
“Anyone who can’t accept that isn’t welcome in our family.”
“She’s my daughter!” He cut her off. “In every way that matters.”
Barbara stared at me, then at Brandon.
“Are you going to let her talk to me like that? I’m your mother.”
“She speaks for both of us. Now, do you want to be part of this family or not?”
Barbara looked around the room, waiting for someone to defend her.
Her sister stared at the floor. One of Brandon’s cousins shook his head. Even the pastor looked stunned.
“Anyone who can’t accept that isn’t welcome in our family.”
Barbara grabbed her purse and walked out.
The doors closed behind her.
Barbara was gone. But what she’d done to Lisa was still hanging from my dress.
For several seconds, nobody moved. Then Lisa sniffed against Brandon’s shoulder.
“Are you still getting married?”
A few people laughed.
“Are you still getting married?”
Brandon looked at me.
“Are we?”
I looked down at my ruined train. Eight tiny suitcases were still attached.
Lisa pointed at the suitcase with her name on it.
“Mom, can you take my name off?”
My throat tightened. Then Megan appeared beside me holding a tiny pair of embroidery scissors.
“Are we?”
“Cut them all off,” I said.
So my sister and two bridesmaids crouched around my dress and cut every suitcase loose.
And somehow, after one of the ugliest moments of my life, we still got married.
At the reception, the little picture frame Lisa made sat beside our wedding cake.
That night, after everyone left, we went upstairs to our room at the bed-and-breakfast. Lisa changed into her pajamas and climbed into the middle of the bed.
“Cut them all off,”
“This is supposed to be your wedding night,” she said.
Brandon took off his shoes. “Correct.”
“Don’t married people want privacy?”
I nearly choked.
Brandon looked at me, then at her. “Who have you been talking to?”
We went upstairs to our room
“Aunt Megan.”
“I’m going to have a conversation with Megan.”
Lisa smiled for the first time in hours.
A few minutes later, she was asleep between us.
On the table beside the bed sat the frame she’d made for him, and downstairs, eight tiny suitcases lay in a trash can.
Lisa wasn’t one of them.
Eight tiny suitcases lay in a trash can.
