My Mom & My Dad

Chapter 19: Of Park Benches and a Rose Garden

Emily:

So, we're almost done with our story, Stephen. The only thing left to tell is how my mom and your dad tied the knot.

Stephen:

You're right, Ems. I can still smell the roses. That was the most delightful, most wonderful day in our lives, don't you think so?

Emily:

Uhm... maybe not. I'm still voting for the day the twins arrived.

Stephen:

Hey, hold on! You're spoiling things!

Emily:

Oops... Sorry. Didn't mean to. I guess I'm just excited.

Stephen:

Emily, I have an idea. Why don't we let our parents join us in telling the story for our last two chapters? It would be nice for our readers to know what they really thought and felt.

Emily:

Great idea! Four point of views in each chapter. Mom! Dad! We need your help.

They're coming... Here goes... Five, four, three, two, one...

* * * * *

Felicity:

It was already February, and the wedding was in two months. I had been healing well since the incident at the Glades last December. While most couples spend six months to a year planning their weddings, Oliver insisted on taking short cuts. He said he wasn't willing to wait any longer. Well, money wasn't a problem for him, so I thought, why not? I had only one condition, and that was that he had to hire professional wedding planners to help me out.

That Friday morning, I was busy finalizing our guest list. I couldn't believe how many people the Queen family were related to and connected to. We had only twenty guests from my side of the family, but Moira had planned to invite one hundred thirty-two guests more than the fifty that Oliver had originally written on his own list. Oliver and I had argued over this ballooning head count three times over, but I finally conceded when his mother promised she would make sure the press were not invited and there would be no reporters covering our wedding. I figured if she could keep her end of the bargain, having a little over two hundred wedding guests wouldn't hurt.

As I was mulling over the names on our guest list, I noticed that two very important people were missing. No, three. I looked out the window and reminisced the day Oliver told me what happened about their trip to Central City.

It had been one week after I had come home from the hospital after the stabbing at the Glades. Oliver was helping me fix the fried chicken and fries dinner that I owed Stephen on the night of his birthday. I had insisted on having them over and cooking dinner, but Oliver only agreed to it if I let him help out. He was concerned that I'd overwork myself when I was still not well enough. I agreed to his condition, because my movements were still quite limited. That afternoon, we finished marinating the chicken and cutting up the vegetables for the salad and potatoes for the fries. So we sat down at the kitchen counter to rest a while before we began to cook.

"You haven't told me yet what happened with Sandra and Connor Hawke," I reminded Oliver. "We were supposed to talk about it that night, right?"

"Oh, yeah. You want to talk about it now?" he asked.

"If it's okay with you," I answered.