And they were married.
On a quiet patch of sand off the shore of Lake Michigan.
The sky dark and cloudy.
Fierce gusts of wind whipping off the waters.
It was a small affair. The only guests were two of Rachel's coworkers and a close friend from college. Tim came as well, joking about overstepping therapeutic bounds. There was no wedding party. Only six boys lined up in stair step fashion, tugging at the bow ties Rachel had insisted they wear.
Jo stood at the center. His hair had grown back in dark curls that had somehow been tamed into a combover, and his skin had regained its golden-brown tint. The suit he wore fit him well, though he wished he'd been able to fill it out a bit more.
Their officiant, the hospital chaplain who'd become a good friend, cleared his throat.
Jo caught sight of his bride. And lost his breath.
Her tiny arms were hidden by lace sleeves leading to a bateau neckline that highlighted her collarbones and shoulders. The waist of the dress was accentuated by a satin ribbon while layers of chiffon blew in the wind, showing off her delicate, hourglass figure. Strands of the hair she'd tried to contain at the nape of her neck whipped about her face.
Her stunning, ethereal face.
There was no music to accompany her down the sandy path. Only the crashing cacophony of wind and waves on the rocks as she clung to Frank's arm.
Tears were already sliding down her cheeks.
Jo smiled.
Tears were sliding down his cheeks, too.
They came to a stop in front of Jo and he tried to contain himself, emotion pulsing through him like blood.
"Who gives this woman to be married to this man?"
There was a pause, since there'd been no rehearsal.
"We do," Mikey shouted against the wind.
"Yeah, all of us," joined Sam.
"And me."
Frank smiled, as he turned to Rachel and gave her a peck on the cheek.
"Thanks for taking my advice, kid," he winked at her before handing her over to Jo.
The chaplain said some words neither of them heard.
Rachel gave him a ring that likely cost a bit more than hers.
They vowed to love each other through trials they'd already faced.
"Then, by the power vested in me by the state of Illinois, I pronounce you man and wife. Jo...?"
Jo looked at the chaplain for the first time since Rachel appeared.
"I think you'd better kiss your bride."
And so he did.
_______
As Rachel had promised, there was cake. And dancing. Though it was mainly the sugar-induced mania of little boys bouncing into each other and getting their outfits far too wet. Frank was flirting with one of Rachel's coworkers as the other guests listened to the chaplain recount his wedding horror stories.
Rachel and Jo slow danced to the sound of blustery water, punctuated by the laughter of those they loved.
As they turned slowly, Jo heard his bride suck in a breath and pull away. He followed her gaze behind him to the figure of a man standing on a rocky precipice several hundred feet away. Jo recognized him immediately and turned to Rachel, trying to follow the many emotions dancing across her face.
Turning her chin toward him, he met her eyes.
"Go."
_______
"How did you know?"
"I know everything that goes on in this city."
She nodded, nudging a pebble with her bare toe.
"Are you ready to apologize?"
"You know I'm too proud for that."
"Then why did you come?"
He buried his hands in his pockets, mouth set in a straight line.
"You're my little girl. I love you, even if I don't agree with you."
"This is my life now, dad. If you love me, then just accept it. We can start fresh."
He considered it for a moment, scuffing his shoe on the edge of a rock.
"I can't."
She nodded again, catching a glimpse of Jo down on the beach with one of the boys on his back.
"Maybe when I'm old and gray and regretting my life decisions, it will be different," he murmured.
"That's a shame. You'll miss out on a lot in the meantime."
He said nothing, staring out at the dark waves. When he looked back at her, there was a hint of pain in his steel eyes.
"Goodbye, Rachel."
"I love you, dad."
Leaning forward to place a soft kiss on her forehead, he left without another word.
_______
She looked like a norse goddess, standing there on the rock.
Jo watched her for a moment after her father left, marveling at her strength and beauty.
Biting his lip to see if he was dreaming.
When he'd drawn enough blood to reassure himself that he was indeed awake, he approached her, wrapping his arms around her small waist. She leaned her head against his chest and he closed his eyes, etching this moment into his grey matter.
"How the hell did I get here? With you?"
She said nothing, gripping his arms tighter against her.
"This is the hard part, you know. Figuring it all out from here."
"We'll get through it, my love."
"I'll disappoint you," he murmured.
"You could never."
"My sweet Rachel. I will. I'll end up in a ditch again. Whether it's my past come back to haunt me or the bad luck that seems to follow me around."
"Then I'll go down with you. Into that ditch. We'll make it out together."
"And the next one?"
"And the one after that."
He placed a kiss on her wind-chilled cheek.
"I love you, Rachel."
She turned to him and kissed his bruised bottom lip.
"Are you guys almost finished with all the kissing?" Jaime called from the beach.
They laughed against each other's mouths.
Jo took Rachel's hand in his.
"Let's go down, my love."
And they went down.
Together.