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“Last day you get to wear these. You sure you’re okay with that?” Patricia tugged on the lapel of Bill’s Navy dress white uniform as she arrived beside him.
He looked down at her and merely nodded. He couldn’t muster more because he’d never seen such an amazing sight as Patricia O’Malley standing at the altar in a wedding dress.
The setting didn’t hurt. It was spring at the Old Round Church in Richmond, Vermont. Outside, the air was kissed with the first blooms, though the scent of snow still lingered in the higher reaches of the Green Mountains.
Military uniforms glittered in the pews on both the bride’s and the groom’s side of the church. Many of those who remembered his mother fondly filled the seating in the wooden balcony that swept three quarters of the way around the churc
