THE LAST THING I expected this year was a big, joyful wedding. I stood holding Jamilla’s hand and looking out over the beautiful grounds in Falls Church, Virginia.
The setting was a sprawling meadow behind a small restaurant-inn. Yellow and white lights had been strung in the elm trees and along the patio rails. Everywhere I looked, there were roses and marigolds and simple but quite beautiful English daisies.
The bride was absolutely gorgeous in a simple white satin gown, with no fussy train or veils. The dress was in the Empire style and draped elegantly on Billie’s small frame. She wore a necklace and earrings made from brightly colored cowrie shells to celebrate her African American heritage. Her hair was swept back in a chignon with sprigs of baby’s breath tucked in just so. Billie couldn’t have looked more joyous, or happier. Her smile was radiant all through the day.
Sampson never stopped smiling either. He was dressed up in a dove gray suit, and I swear he looked like a prince. A friend of ours, Reverend Jeffrey Campbell, had agreed to perform the ceremony in front of nearly a hundred of us who loved John and Billie with all our hearts.
Reverend Campbell asked if we would do everything in our power to support this new family in the community. “We will!” everyone answered with great enthusiasm and warmth.
The reception followed, and I got to say a few words in a champagne toast.
“I have known this large man since we were both small boys. At least I was a boy. He has always been a part of our family, and always will be. John is loyal to his friends, his word is the truth, he’s honorable, kind, generous, sweet — believe it or not, which is why he is my best friend in all the world. I have not known Billie quite as long. But I already like her a lot better than John.
“To a long, happy life together. I love you, John and Billie. Now let’s hear some music. Let’s dance until tomorrow.”
John and his wife danced to “Let’s Stay Together.” Then Jamilla and I joined in with several other couples. “Nice wedding,” she said. “I like John and Billie as a couple. They’re great.” Folks started to stack their plates with food — coconut chicken and corn bread stuffing, dumplings, dirty rice, greens. Everybody was snapping pictures with the single-use cameras left on each table. Billie’s best friend from nursing school sang “Our Love Is Here to Stay,” and it was good. John and I got together on “Sexual Healing,” and it was pretty bad, which was why it was so good. The children were underfoot at all times. And Sampson still hadn’t stopped smiling.
Late in the afternoon, Damon and Jannie each grabbed one of my arms and escorted me out into the yard. “I’ll be right back,” I said to Jamilla. “I hope.”
Billie was seated on a wooden chair with her back to half a dozen woeful-looking, even terrorized single males.
“You don’t have to actually catch the garter,” she said, turning and winking, “the first one who touches it is the lucky winner.”
I stood on one side of the ragtag boys’ club and I was winking and making ridiculous faces at Damon and Jannie and of course, Jamilla. Suddenly, they all pointed toward the sky.
I looked up — and the purple garter was spinning and spiraling down toward me. I couldn’t have gotten out of the way if I’d wanted to.
So I caught the garter and twirled it around my outstretched finger. “Doesn’t scare me,” I said.
I looked to my left — and there was Jamilla with Nana. Jam was laughing and clapping her hands, and her smile said, Doesn’t scare me either.
I looked away — and by God, there was Dr. Kayla Coles. And she wasn’t clapping, just smiling coyly. Then she winked at me. Now what did that mean?
I shook my head, still laughing, but then I saw one more face. Director Ron Burns of the FBI.
My new boss was motioning for me to come over to see him. He had some kind of thick folder under his arm, which I had absolutely no plans of reading that Saturday.
But I did.