October 25, 2024 [10]

The Caribbean breeze tickled James' ear as behind him, Thom Yorke began to strum the opening bars of Fake Plastic Trees. James smiled. The song was doubly inappropriate considering Martha's work in environmental science as well as the ceremony at hand. But more than their little joke, he smiled for what would come next.

Standing beneath the driftwood fashioned altar to James' left and wearing a white and yellow uttarasanga robe, Bill Murray said, "If the gallery could rise, that would be just fabulous."

The guests, seated in rows of chairs on the sand, stood and looked up the aisle, extending past the beach and up the steps to the deck of the eco-resort. From a hidden staging area, Martha and Steven stepped into view.

Against her initial objections, she wore a Vera Wang original – an Ethel variation accented with a turquoise sash at her waist and cut short to fit the tropical setting. Had she ever looked this beautiful? Maybe. Probably. Screw it! No. Not she, nor anyone else, has ever looked as stunning as she does in this moment.

At her side, Steven wore a short-sleeve white button down with a turquoise necktie and pants to match. Even from this distance, James could see his eyes were puffy and pink from joyful tears.

Steven always cried at their wedding.

As Yorke progressed into verses telling the story of a woman and man stuck in a meaningless existence, the father and daughter began down the stairs. Though James had lost count of countless, frivolous details from his lives, he knew for a fact that this was their 181st wedding. It was their fifth wedding on Leonardo DiCaprio's private island and their sixth since Martha's rebirth (they'd skipped the formality in her fifth life). Truly, they were running out of 'firsts.' But this is... the first time we've been married on Leo's island after Martha's rebirth. That counts as a first!

A trio of camera drones broadcasting the event live, repositioned above the ceremony as Martha and Steven reached the front row. They stopped to embrace and James had a full view of Steven's face – wrinkled from age and crumpled by emotion. They broke and Martha put a gentle hand to his cheek, then said something James couldn't hear. Chin quivering and thin hair flitting in the breeze, Steven nodded. He was over three hundred years younger than his daughter, but hadn't a clue. And while he wasn't completely himself, he was considerably more stable than James' mother. Add it to the list of things Martha does better than I.

Steven took his seat and Martha turned to the altar. She looked at Camisha, her maid of honor, who gave a tiny wave and a giant smile. Staging a high profile wedding packed with their celebrity friends for the sake of raising awareness of environmentalism had been exhausting for Martha. She needed someone who knew her before she graduated from the mortal coil or became an international sensation. It also helps that Camisha doesn't have an agent and stylist attached at the hip.

Martha stepped even to James but kept her head down and her eyes from him. The curve of her smile betrayed her mischief. Come on, I'm dying here! Show some mercy!

She blinked and then her eyes were on his and he didn't care if this was their first, 181st, or 180,001st wedding. Her eyes... They were as brown as nothing in the world – not chocolate nor caramel, not fresh soil nor stained mahogany. Her eyes transcended comparison. They were, to James, beauty defined and turned his insides golden when she graced him with their attention. Beneath them, she wore a sly smile, as if fully aware of their effect.

Yorke strummed the final chord and the guests took their seats.

"It's not too late, you know," Murray deadpanned to Martha, then nodded toward James. "You can still ditch what's his name. I've got a boat a ways down the beach. It's a rowboat – no motor. But you look like you've got a strong back. I bet you could get us to Belize."

Laughter rolled through the gallery as Martha pretended to debate the offer before shaking her head.

Murray shrugged to James. "Had to give it a shot."

James nodded his condolences.

"Then I guess we're doing this. Ladies. Gentlemen. Celebrities. We gather here today because these two crazy kids, Martha Beckett and..." He pointed at James with a quizzical look. "I wanna say Jerry... or Jack..."

"James," James said, holding back a smile.

"James! That's right. So close! As I was saying, we're here today because these two crazy kids, Martha Beckett and James Quinn, decided to give love a shot. That and for the eminent Mr DiCaprio's majestic open bar. And to that end, I will keep this brief.

"Gautama Buddha teaches 'There is no path to happiness; happiness is the path.' If I may, humbly and with all due respect, I'd add that love is the convergence of two such paths. And what a path this pair is forging. Call it fate. Call it luck. Call it karma. But it seems like this California girl and Cubbie-loving Chicago boy were meant to be together. I don't want them to get too full of themselves, so I won't read off their resumes. But it is an honor to be standing here, blessing their union. I mean that – it's an honor." For a moment, Murray dropped his trademark smirk. The moment passed. "Speaking of resumes though, you guys cool if I tell people I introduced you?"

Martha and James nodded to more laughter from the guests.

"Now, the happy couple have decided against the recitation of vows. Which is a real shame because I so rarely get to hear them speak." Murray rolled his eyes to punctuate his sarcasm.

As guests chuckled knowingly, Martha and James held each other's gaze, practically oblivious. James broadened his smile, ever so slightly. You have my heart, my mind, and my being forever.

"It helps if you've lived in a cave for the last few decades," Murray said, milking the bit.

Martha squinted. You have me, for longer.

"So we'll just move along to the ring exchange."

James squinted. You have me the longest!

Nuh-uh!

Ya-huh!

Martha laughed suddenly, distracted by something over his shoulder.

"James. You're uh... kind of leaving me hanging here, buddy," President Obama said from behind him.

James turned to see him holding out the ring. "Sorry about that, sir."

"No. No apologies. This is your day, James," he said with a smile. James took the ring and brought it to Martha.

She raised her hand and he accepted it, holding the ring at the edge of her finger. "Dearest Martha..." James paused to let the Awww's from the guests pass. "Please take this ring to signify my love for you as eternal as the circle is unending." The Awww's doubled as James slid the ring on her finger.

Martha turned and a beaming Camisha handed her James' ring. She placed it at the edge of his finger. "Dearest James... Ditto." Laughter mixed with sniffles sounded as she slid the ring on his.

They turned back to Murray, as he began to speak. "Then by the power vested in me by... well, you two when you asked me to do this, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride, you lucky son of a gun."

Martha and James embraced to raucous applause from the gallery. And even though this was, at best, a renewal of vows given dozens of times; even though it was pageantry to advance a political agenda, James felt his insides flutter, applauding right along with the guests.

Over the roar, Murray shouted, "Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury, I present to you... Martha Beckett-Quinn and James Quinn-Beckett!"

Author's note:

Everything's bigger in the sequel, right?  Even the cameo list!  Well, just wait for part 2.

I couldn't help myself in making Murray the officiant.  Whom would you choose?

Thanks for reading!!