Chapter 25

If the wait between the engagement and learning they were having a son was excruciating, the wait between setting the date and that date arriving was many times so. It was not time that Kevin and Karin could spend aggravating themselves about things, for they were busy. Kevin had his job, and Karin had taken on the task of finding them a new place, for neither his apartment nor her little house would be big enough for a family. Then there was the matter of getting Kevin set up in business, for he'd accepted her offer and was going to begin working as an independent motorcycle mechanic after the wedding – though he'd insisted that she not use all her money, but invite her parents to buy in if they wished. Delores and Rogelio had wished. If at all possible they wanted to find a house with a big enough garage and enough room on the property for at least a small mechanic's operation. Going into business for himself meant that Kevin had to give notice at Wal-Mart, where the bakery manager tried to persuade him to stay. It seemed he was the best baker they had, which he wouldn't have guessed, for he'd never thought to compare himself to Charlie Gutierrez, who in any event was just part time. Then there was the matter of the license. Perhaps a marriage license is, as Kevin put it, just another way for the government to get into your wallet, but it was a legal necessity. Kevin took care of it, not only because it's traditionally the man's responsibility, but because it was a thing he could do.

Nevertheless, at the end of each day, when all the work and planning of that day was done, neither Kevin nor Karin could easily sleep. The excitement kept them awake, and they found themselves spending more time together than ever before. It wasn't just Sunday after church anymore. It was every day. They'd only had one "official" date; they'd jumped from friendship to engagement so quickly that there'd been no time for dating, though they'd had several "unofficial" dates after their engagement. Nor did they miss it. Kevin had never dated, and at 45 wasn't really ready to try it, and Karin had had her fill when she was young. But they did spend their evenings together, at his place or hers, snuggled together on a sofa, watching TV or talking or studying the Bible. Kevin formed a habit of sitting on the floor, his head in Karin's lap and his arms around her waist, while she ran her fingers through his hair and smoothed it down. This, more than anything else, soothed their fevered nerves and let them eventually get to sleep each night, in their separate beds, he in his apartment and she in her house, thinking of the time when they would share the same bed.

Finally the day came. February 12th was a bright, sunny day, without any breeze. There was snow on Sandia Crest that morning, but none down in the city, and both Karin and Kevin looked up at the mountains and experienced a burst of awe at the wonder of God's creation. Karin thought of God saying, in Genesis, "Let there be... ," His word the sole power necessary to bring everything into existence. And Kevin, from somewhere in his memory of a schooling long past, remembered the phrase, "What hath God wrought?" It was so compelling that he rushed back into his apartment, and scrambled through his concordance, searching for the verse – though he knew that the words he remembered had to have come from the King James Version. Just when he was about to give up, he found it, in Numbers 23:23. It turned out that in context the verse was talking about something entirely different, but still it seemed appropriate on this day, for God had not only made a beautiful day, but he was about to make one flesh out of two people.

Kevin and Karin sat together during the service, but neither could have said afterwards who preached, or what the sermon was about, or what hymns they sang. They were too caught up in each other, and in the anticipation, to focus on the service. But neither one worried about it; they both knew God would recognize their distraction for what it was.

The sermon was shorter that morning, and after the closing hymn Tyrone Jackman mounted the steps to the platform and stood behind the pulpit. "Here at MJT we have, without trying to, created a tradition of untraditional weddings. I can look out over this congregation, and see half a dozen couples who we married here, in ceremonies that in some way diverged from what tradition prescribes. And not all the couples we've married in this way are part of our church. We are going to have an untraditional wedding today. We've been announcing this wedding for a month, and now it's time. Kevin Farley and Karin Seguín, please come and stand in front."

They did. Tyrone came down from the platform and stood with them, and an usher brought a microphone on its stand and placed it so their voices would carry through the auditorium. "Please face each other."

Karin turned, and so did Kevin. They had indeed gotten as dressed up as they could stand, but Kevin was the one who seemed to have undergone a wholesale transformation. His hair was shorter, off his ears and curling over his collar, rather than the mane that had before reached his shoulder blades. He'd reduced his beard to a goatee, and trimmed that much shorter, so that instead of resting on his chest the whiskers now covered just his chin. Karin found herself looking in amazement at the smooth skin of his cheeks. She decided that, having been under the beard for so long, the skin hadn't suffered the damage that an unbearded face might receive, and indeed she could trace where the beard had been by the lighter tone of the skin. He'd put aside his leather, and was wearing a pair of khaki pants, and an actual shirt – flannel, yes, but a shirt with buttons and pockets.

Karin's sleeveless dress was a pale pink that reached to her ankles. She'd worn a jacket over it earlier, but had removed it for the ceremony, and though the dress was perfectly modest she somehow felt as though she were on display before an admiring crowd. She'd worn sleeveless dresses many times, but she felt like this dress was not a covering, but a window into her very being; she almost felt unclothed, but in the way Eve must have felt unclothed before the fall. It wasn't nakedness she seemed to feel, but a complete openness to God and to Kevin and the whole church.

She'd swept the hair back from her temples and pinned it at the back of her head, giving her something of the look of golden wings – as though she were wearing Mercury's helmet. Her eye shadow this morning was a deep metallic blue, the blue of the lapis lazuli in the pendant she wore around her neck, and as she looked at Kevin she smiled, and her dimples showed as glorious as they'd ever been.

It seemed forever that Karin and Kevin looked at each other, but in fact it just a couple of seconds. Tyrone said, "Marriage is an institution which God Himself created. In the Garden of Eden, even before the fall, God took one of Adam's ribs, and made what the Bible calls 'a helper suitable for him.' And Adam, when he woke, said, 'This is now bone of my bones, /And flesh of my flesh.' The divine commentary is, 'For this reason a man shall leave his father and his mother, and be joined to his wife; and they shall become one flesh.'