Have you ever almost married someone for the wrong reasons?  Mmm hmm.  Me too.

In the seventies I dated this guy I really liked.  And though I loved who he was, our connection wasn’t the “in love” sort of thing that I had in mind at the time.  Rick was great.  Tall, handsome, bright, funny.  And he had a couple of other things that really impressed me:  Shelly and Joelle.  His daughters. 

I adored his kids.  Shelly, the older, was a “spirited” child.  One of those old-soul kids who confound and vex anyone who thinks having your own thoughts is just too danged uppity for an eight-year-old.  Joelle was quieter.  She was more likely to take off on her bike than stand there and argue.  They were darling.  They were challenging.  They were themselves, and he let them be exactly that.  I watched the way he fathered them.  I watched the way they adored him. 

Joelle and Shelly, circa 1978

When he asked me to marry him, I thought about it.  Seriously.  I liked him well enough, and life with him would not be boring.  I was crazy about his girls, and, with their mom in California and him with custody, I’d see a lot of the little ones.  I pondered life with their family.  I pondered the value of being “in love.” 

In the end I said, “no.”  It seemed like the only fair thing to do.  I didn’t get that pitty-pat vibe with him.  And there were all those empty Genesee beer bottles in his trash. No, best let this one go.  So I did. We stayed friends.

About four years later, he died.

Now, in the way that life takes you on little spins and drops you where you didn’t expect, I landed on the West Coast – in Seattle.  Having lost touch with Rick’s girls over the years, one day I got curious and googled them.  Hmm.  Shelly was a therapist.  Still in California, where she had gone to live with her mom after Rick died.  I couldn’t find Joelle.  I clicked on Shelly’s website.  Oh my.  There she was.  A lovely grown-up version of her little self.   And she looked exactly like her dad. Exactly.  Same lanky build, same hair, same face, same smile.  Oy.

Next stop, Facebook.  Yes, there she was. 

A quick email through Facebook:  Hi Shelly, you may not remember me but I dated your dad a long time ago…

A quick response:  Yes! I do remember you, and in such a positive way.

What followed was a series of emails, then online chats, then phone calls.  She was thriving; she was in love; she was starving for stories about her dad.  We talked about all of it.  Who she used to be; who she was now; who he used to be; what I remembered; what she remembered.  I felt like a biological mom catching up with a child she hasn’t seen – we compared notes, cried, laughed, remembered the bright, goofy guy her father had been. Celebrated the intense, playful woman she had become.   We filled in the blanks for each other: The last date I had with her dad (Going to Grease at the drive-in, Shelly and Joelle in tow). The last time she saw Rick alive (Mouthing “I love you” from inside an oxygen tent in the hospital. Shelly was twelve).

Then a surprising email to me.  “Kate, will you marry me?  Um. Wait. That doesn’t sound right…  Kate, would you perform the wedding ceremony for Jed and me?”

Yes.  This was a right thing.  This was exactly what Rick would want.  “Oh. Of course. I’d be honored!”

Ordination in the Universal Life Church.  (Online – no muss, no fuss, no cumbersome classes to take.) And then a wedding.  A small ceremony in a warm vineyard near Paso Robles, California.

The bride was glowing. The groom was handsome.  (And earnest.  And real.)

Joelle’s daughters were the princess bridesmaids – little reprises of Shelly and Joelle when I first knew them. 

Joelle read about love from The Prophet, one of Rick’s favorite books.

Do you, Shelly…

 I pronounced them man and wife.  He kissed the bride.  Everyone cried, and everyone smiled. 

The little bridesmaids ran like the wind – two fairies bursting with joy.

Leila and Naima, fairy princesses

Rick, I love your daughters.  You’d be awfully proud of who they are, of who they married, and of those fairy granddaughters running like the wind. 

We missed you.

Shelly and Joelle, circa 2009

Shelly and Jed   _{(Photo by ByCherry Photography )}