Elle sat on her king-single bed in her room. It was a lovely day outside and everyone gathered in the backyard for her father's famous lamb barbeque. But she wanted to stay in her room. After all, it wasn't long to go before she walked down the aisle and away from home.

A knock sounded and Trish stuck her head in. "Everyone's downstairs love, how about joining us?"

Elle smiled with moist eyes. "Thought I should clean up the room."

"You haven't bothered in such a long time. I think it can wait one more day." Her mother laughed.

Elle looked around her room. There were years of clutter, and cleaning up could easily consume a whole day. "I guess it can wait one more day," she mumbled, sliding off her bed. "Will you help me tomorrow?"

"Anything for my bride-to-be."

"Did I hear right? Ethan's bringing a girlfriend tonight?"

Trish chuckled. "Yep. Said he's 'kinda' getting serious, and he'd like the family to meet her before springing her on us at your wedding."

Elle had to laugh as she followed Trish downstairs. "He didn't want to steal any of my limelight."

"Cause he loves you." Trish walked into the kitchen. "Grab the lemonade." She carried out a dish of potato bake from the bench top.

Almost everyone who mattered was there, crammed in the small backyard. Elle's parents, Uncle Steve and Aunty Ester, Chloe with some random university guy named Brighton she was sleeping with. Then there was Blake's family, his quiet parents and his charming but coy sister, Harriett, and her family. Elle had always thought that name was butch. Think about it, the only way you could easily shorten it was Harry.

Elle walked out with two pitchers of lemonade and kept an ear out for the doorbell. Blake came over and kissed her on the head.

"How are you holding up? No jitters I hope."

Elle shook her head. "None."

Blake hugged her tightly. "How about we do away with tradition and go to the registry right now?" He nibbled at her earlobe.

"What are you two whispering over there?" Bert eyed the soon-to-be-married couple.

"I was thinking about stealing Elle away from you already," Blake kidded.

Over the four years, Bert had dropped being the overprotective father and accepted Blake like a second son. Elle smiled, thinking how lucky she was that her entire family got along together as if that's the way it had always been. The initial days of curfews and chaperoned dates were long gone.

The doorbell chimed and Elle went to the front door, swinging it open. There stood her six feet tall baby brother, Ethan. His broad shoulders and lean body made him look very athletic and older than his actual age.

Ethan's eyes lit up. "Hey Ellie!" He smiled. Beside him stood a skinny, brown-eyed blonde, absolutely nervous. After engulfing Elle in his arms for a long while, he entered the house with his date close on his heels. "Elle, this is Isolde. Isolde, this is my big sis, Elle."

Isolde smiled, politely kissing Elle's cheek. "Nice to meet you."

Elle smiled. The young couple made a striking pair. "Nice to meet you too," she said with a smile. "Everyone's waiting for the story out the back," she warned.

Ethan cradled Isolde's tiny waist with his arms and led her through the house.

"So, how long have you two been going out?" Elle asked. She was happy. Her little brother had never been gutsy enough to ask out any girl before this. That he finally brought a girl home to introduce excited everyone, especially Trish and Bert. Not that her brother needed to be tied down, but he'd finally eased his parents' worries.

"Isolde's Brick's sister." Ethan beamed, his lanky teenage body too big for his young mind.

"Oh." Elle looked at him, "Izzy the old?" she whispered and poor Ethan blushed, nervously aware that Isolde, or Izzy the old, was standing right next to him looking rather insulted.

Ethan, caught between Elle and a girlfriend at the brink of tears, sheepishly scratched his head. "I wasn't the one who said that."

Elle cleared her throat. "Come, everyone's probably started on the meat, especially Uncle Steve."

It was still fairly dark outside when Elle woke up the next morning. She could hear the chirps of birds and of crickets. Her last Sunday as a bachelorette dawned, and she was planning on spending a splendid day cleaning out her room. She was a little excited about going through piles of junk she had hoarded over the years. Surely some memories lurked in them that would make her cry.

She turned the light on in the room, tied her hair up into a ponytail, and pulled up her sleeves. First things first, a cup of tea. As quietly as she could manage, Elle crept downstairs into the kitchen and put the kettle on.

"What are you doing up already?" Trish whispered, having followed Elle downstairs. "Couldn't sleep?"

Elle brought out an extra cup. "Did I wake you?"

"Thought it was Ethan heading to bed," Trish answered, sitting down at the breakfast table. "Why are you up so early? It's only a quarter to five."

"Just woke up and thought I should get a start in my room."

"I can give you a hand, you know?"

"That'd be fantastic."

Elle looked like her bed had swallowed her. Her two legs poked out from under the bed. "I can't believe the dust under here!" She choked, pushing a brown cardboard box caked with a layer of dust out to her mother.

"When was the last time you cleaned under there?"

Elle sneezed, banging her head on the underside of the bed. "I can't remember." She sneezed again, sending a flurry of dust motes fluttering around her head.

There was utter silence outside the dust-free room. "Mum? You still there?" Silence. "Mum?"

She slid out from under the bed, her dust-covered head popping out in a mess. Her mother was staring into the open box. "Whatcha staring at?"

Trish brought out a soft leather-bound volume. Elle gasped in surprise. She recognised it immediately. They both did, and she reached for it.

"All these years, that's where that was?" She stared at the scrapbook, part of her sixth birthday present with her first camera, a Polaroid. Awestruck, she turned a page and saw the first photo she had ever taken with that camera. The square picture with half her mother's face and Chloe's blonde young self, smiled at her from the glossy snippet, slightly faded through the years.

"That was the first photo you ever took," Trish reminisced.

"I always liked that picture." Elle smiled and settled back against the bed, flipping the pages reverently. Trish pushed aside the box that held Elle's old Polaroid, and bunches of photos that had never gained a spot in her book, and settled next to her daughter to join the memories.

"I wonder what I was thinking with this book." She flipped through the various collages till she got to one of her Aunt Alexis's wedding.

"She looked beautiful that day, didn't she?" Trish recalled.

Elle turned to her mum. Alexis was Trish's only younger sister. The two had always had an odd relationship, she recalled. Trish was more like a guardian than a sister. "When was the last we saw her?"

Trish bit her lip and flipped another page.

"They are coming, aren't they?"

Trish nodded. "She is."

"And Uncle Nathan?"

Her mother turned to her. She hadn't wanted to be the bearer of bad news, but the wedding that had inspired Elle to dream of her own happily ever after was falling apart.

Trish drew a sharp breath. "Promise me you won't worry, nor ask Lexy questions, okay?"

"Is Aunty Lexy okay?" Elle watched her mother curiously.

"She didn't want you to know."

"Know what?"

"Lexy and Nathan are going through a rough patch right now."

Freshly showered and wrapped in her robe, Elle sat on her bed in that clean bedroom with the scrapbook turned to photos of Aunt Lexy's wedding some fifteen years ago. Had Lexy ever thought on that beautiful day, that fifteen years down the track, with an eight-year-old daughter and multiple miscarriages later, she'd be struggling to keep her lover? Was that going to happen to her and Blake? That few years down the track she'd struggle to convince him to continue loving her?

Elle sat flipping through the scrapbook, staring half-heartedly at the photos and the snippets of her writings. Her mind wondered about the future with Blake instead. Would she have a child? Would they still be together?

"I brought you tea, Ellie." Trish's voice echoed distantly.

Elle flipped another page and scribbling alongside magazine cut-outs of wedding dresses accosted her vision.

"You're worried about Lexy?"

"I was wondering where Blake and I would be in ten years' time." Elle looked up. It had been a long day. "They were both so happy that day."

Trish sat down on the edge of Elle's bed. "No one has any idea where they'll be in a few years, honey. But if you get scared of having a few bad days, then how will you ever enjoy the good ones that come along with it and are in between?"

"I always thought they would last." Elle breathed heavily, hugging the teacup.

"All happens as it's meant to. All you can do is put the seat belt on, relax and let life go where it's meant to."

Trish snuggled next to Elle and flipped a few pages absently until she found a page with some random scribbling. One word caught her eyes. She snatched the book from her daughter's lap with determination and closed it firmly. "You should get some sleep. And stop reading some teenager's anxious private thoughts."

Elle sighed, pulling the duvet a little higher. "I suppose."

"Get some sleep." Trish rose, taking the book with her as she left Elle's room and closed the door behind her. "Goodnight."

"Bertie, call the marquee guys!" Ester fumbled about on the patio, waving the florists in. "They should have arrived and set up before the flowers."

"Bertie, help Ethan check the guest list, will you?" requested Trish, flying past with a wad of tea towels.

"Bertie, you want the entire yard cleared out?" asked Uncle Steve from the backyard, sweat dribbling down his pink forehead.

"Dad! Has someone been in my room recently?" Elle called from above.

All the while, poor Bertie was trying to help Chloe bring in her gear from the car. "Honestly, honey. Do you really need all this crap?" he asked, flustered, dropping the boxes onto the lounge. Meanwhile, Chloe stood with all but a dress bag and a hand on her hip. Clearly, Uncle Bert had no clue!

"It's a wedding, Uncle Bert. Not just another day! And I promised Ellie I'd make her look stunning. Do you know what that means?" She huffed, putting the dress down gently on the arm of the sofa.

Bert shook his head. He was on dangerous ground, he could feel it.

Chloe pouted. "Hours and hours of work and Elle hasn't even given me a chance to practice. The big day is tomorrow, for crying out loud!"

"Bertie!" called out Trish. "Did you call them yet?"

"Who?" Bertie snapped, tired.

"The marquee!" she yelled.

"Dad, I don't know why, but we have ten guests with no seats." Ethan showed Bert an A3 sheet of paper that was the current seating plan.

"For God's sake, people!" Bert mumbled, taking the seating plan from his son. "Go help Uncle Steve with the yard."

Ethan happily obliged. He did not know how to check that chart anyway, and his sister or mother would have picked up any minor mistakes. Bert watched his son disappear out into the yard, and then he spread the chart out on the dining table and glared at it.

People were buzzing around his house, getting last-minute things organised. The florists had already arrived, but the marquee guys were late. The cake had to be picked up that afternoon. Guest numbers had to be reconfirmed and caterers notified of any last-minute additions. Everyone still had to run around picking up their dresses and dinner jackets from the dry cleaner or homes or wherever they'd left them.

Bert was glad his suit was already hanging in his closet, pressed and ready to go. Trish walked into the room with a cup of tea for him.

"Is it done?" she asked, eyeing the seating chart. "Ethan said we were ten short."

Bert chuckled and pushed the sheet away. "It's fine. He got confused. This chart's new and you gave him an old guest list."

"Ah!" She plonked herself on a chair and took a sip of her own tea. "It's been a crazy morning."

"It's a house full of loonies, is what it is!" he spat. "Bert, do this. Bert, do that. I'm only one man, woman."

"I'm sorry." Trish tried not to laugh.

"Come on, Elle! I was already supposed to have you there for the final fitting. We're late!" Chloe scrambled down the stairs.

"What's happening?" Bert's head snapped up.

Chloe shrugged and rolled her eyes. "God knows! When I went up, she was crying."

"Which one of you said anything to her?" Bert shot to his feet.

"No one, Bertie. We've all been busy doing things." Trish sighed.

"Something about not wanting to lose Blake. Therefore, she's not ready to get married. Blah, blah, blah." Chloe tossed her hair angrily and sat on the arm of the sofa. "And I went to all this trouble getting things ready for her."

Trish bit her lip. Elle had always been a curious child. Trish guessed that when she told Elle to stop reading the scrapbook, Elle must have waited till Trish was out like a light before fishing the book out. "I'll go check on her." She rose from the chair and made her way upstairs.

Elle sat on the floor, leaning against the bed. The scrapbook on her lap turned to a page, an entry she'd made the morning after the carnival. The carnival where she'd first met Blake.

"Are you all right, darling?" Trish asked.

Elle stared hard at the page. "Do you believe in fortune-telling?"

"Why don't you go wash your face and go with Chloe, love? She is waiting for you downstairs."

"I forgot about that palm reader," Elle continued.

"You really are running late."

"It says here I'll lose him soon after we get married!" she almost wailed.

Trish knelt before her jittery daughter and pulled the book out of her grasp. "It was a carnival, Ellie. Do you really believe some nutcase in his pyjamas burning incense in a tent can read anybody's future?"

She pushed Elle's chin up. "I believe everyone has good days and bad days. That doesn't mean you should cry in a river the day before your big day." Trish slid the leather-bound book underneath Elle's bed whence it had come. "Some things are better left alone."

"But what if it's true, Mum?" Elle asked desperately.

"So what if it is true?" Trish asked. "Mankind isn't meant to know their future. If God intended that, then where would the sense of discovery and meaning be in our life?"

Trish rose from her perch. Her knees were aching. "Now honestly, Ellie, it is a waste of time trying to decipher the future. That will happen, this will happen. Just enjoy the people in your life all the time, not just when it matters."

She extended a hand to Elle and pulled her up to her feet. "Chloe is waiting." She kissed her on the head and walked away.

***

Chloe dabbed one last time and drew her brush away. "What do you think?" She held up a mirror.

Elle smiled. "You made me look like a girl!"

Chloe giggled. "That is the point. We can't have Blake look prettier than you today."

"I'm getting so nervous. I can barely feel my feet." Elle could barely even see her feet under the crème skirt.

Chloe knelt before her cousin and held both her hands. "You two are lucky to have one another. I just wish I'd met him before you."

"You were too in love with Jordie." Elle laughed.

"Don't know what I was thinking."

"Me neither!"

"But honestly, Ellie, you look beautiful, and Blake is lucky to have you."

Elle hugged her. "I always thought you'd be first."

Chloe rolled her eyes, pulling away. "As if you ever see me settling down."

"What about that Brighton guy?"

"What about him?"

"He was your date for the barbeque last week."

"Not much good for anything," Chloe said.

"So, who've you got today?" Elle asked. It wasn't like Chloe to go anywhere without a date.

"Peter," Chloe answered.

"Peter? As in Hammond, Peter?" Elle asked in shock. Peter Hammond was one guy who had always stood on the sidelines watching Chloe go from boyfriend to boyfriend, patiently waiting.

"Yeah, thought I should finally put the bugger out of his misery. It's annoying the number of times he keeps asking."

Elle cleared her throat. "And it's got nothing to do with the fact that he's a gentleman?" Chloe shook her head. "I think he's nice," Elle added.

"He is!" Chloe admitted. "Doesn't mean he's the one."

"But he's your date. Finally."

"Yes, well. There was no one else worth bringing." She rose to her feet. "I better go check how long it'll be."

Elle could imagine Blake tapping his foot impatiently as the guests seated, and the pianist readied himself to belt out a melody. She could hear the hush fall as the door before her opened slowly. This was it. There was no turning back. The bridal party started gliding down the carpet as if on a conveyer belt, and Blake could barely contain himself.

Blake smiled as Elle came in with her father by her side. Blake's brother-in-law, James, leaned closer to Blake. "You sure about this, Blakey??" he teased. "Still young, you know. You don't want to spread your wings and soar the skies for a few more years? Sow some wild oats, as they say?"

Blake drew another breath as he fixed his gaze on his bride. She was walking towards a life together with him as his wife. He'd pictured this moment in his mind since their first kiss, adding details to his daydream over the years. "That aisle may as well be twenty kilometres and not twenty metres," he whispered back.

James patted Blake and stood at attention. "She looks beautiful, by the way."

Blake nodded, calming his foot's nervous dance. He squared his shoulders, drew a deep breath, stood tall, and waited. The bridal waltz poured out of the piano in a soaring crescendo and his every pore tingled as Bert lovingly gave Elle's hand to him.

"You better take good care of my baby." Bert smiled teary-eyed and kissed Elle's cheek before going to his seat.

The flurry of words rolled out in prayers for the holy union. It wasn't long before the two exchanged their vows. The words rolled out of their lips in a trance, their minds slightly numbed by the overwhelming experience.

"Do you, Blake Michael Sommers, take Ellenor Bethany Grace to be your lawful, wedded wife?"

Blake smiled. "I do." He slid the ring onto her finger.

"Do you, Ellenor Bethany Grace, take Blake Michael Sommers to be your lawful wedded husband?"

Elle's heart almost jumped out of her chest. Two words tumbled out of her lips in a hurry. "I do."

"You can kiss the bride."