We married six weeks later.
We kept the ceremony small, just as Anna had once wanted.
My children attended. A few close friends came, along with some of Anna’s relatives and the people who had remained part of her life.
There were flowers, photographs, a simple meal, and more laughter than I had expected.
Anna wore a beautiful ivory wedding dress with delicate sleeves and a strand of pearls around her neck.
When I saw her standing near the front of the room, I felt something inside me loosen.
For one brief moment, I saw the nineteen-year-old girl beneath the old oak tree.
But then she smiled, and I saw the woman who had survived decades I could barely imagine.
I knew she was not the same person I had loved as a teenager.
She was someone stronger, more complicated, and far more courageous.
When I took her hands during the ceremony, I made a promise that had nothing to do with turning back time.
