AN EVEN HOTTER DAY IN AUGUST (Part 4)

We crossed the parking lot. It was nine-thirty in the morning and already tremendously hot. William asked me to wait outside while he started the car. I figured he wanted to get the air conditioning going, which I thought sweet and husbandly.

Then I heard the music. Stevie Wonder's voice rang out from the car stereo:

Over time, I've been building my castle of love
Just for two, though you never knew you were my reason
I've gone much too far for you now to say
That I’ve got to throw my castle away

My husband took me in his arms and asked, Do you remember when you said if we ever got married, this is the song we should dance to?

I shook my head, speechless, and he spun me in a circle. We waltzed in an empty parking lot on that hot August morning, tears streaming down our cheeks.

And though you don’t believe that they do
They do come true
For did my dreams
Come true when I looked at you
And maybe too if you would believe
You too might be
Overjoyed, over loved, over me

Oh, William. I should have waited for you. I should never have married or spent any time at all with anyone else.

We pressed our foreheads together and circled around and around.

I'm so glad you found me, I said.

I'm so glad you found me, he said.

Overjoyed.

AN EVEN HOTTER DAY IN AUGUST (Part 3)

We awoke early the next morning. After the fractured mood of the night before, William compensated by acting wide awake. We showered, drank coffee and dressed in our summery wedding outfits.

We slipped into his aqua-colored Altima, cranked up the A/C and smiled at each other on our way to the green-glass high-rise near the Los Angeles airport. The flowers, tied together with an ivory ribbon, lay across my lap.

We cleared security on the main floor. My bouquet rode alone in a gray plastic carrier through the courthouse's X-ray machine. We floated up in an elevator to the civil ceremonies department. After securing our marriage license, we had a forty-five minute wait.

We went downstairs to the courthouse's cafeteria. A few lawyerly types lined up for coffee and bagels. The entire building had a clinical newness without a strand of romance. Certainly not in the weary eyes of the professionals around us, or even in the licensing area where others lined up to marry.

When our names were called back upstairs, we could as easily have been at the dentist's office or the DMV — until we stepped into a paneled room and met a plump, short gentleman who introduced himself as our judge. At one end of the room stood a wooden white arch with fabric and plastic flowers entwined in its lattice. The judge wore a generous smile and steered us under this makeshift wedding bower.

The three of us faced each other and pretended we were in a lush garden landscape and not several stories high in a large glass building near the airport.

We are gathered here together, the judge intoned, then chuckled at this most minimal of gatherings.

Do you, William...?

Do you, Mel...?

The history of these ancient vows, these words that had traversed eons to become ours on this Friday in August of 2003, had us holding hands as we blinked back tears.

The judge had the demeanor of a sentimental Spencer Tracy as he gently guided us through the ceremony. Okay, Mel, look at your husband. Good. Okay, William, kiss your bride. Good.

William and I stayed locked in each other's eyes through the entire ceremony.

Afterward our kindly judge insisted on taking pictures of us with our camera. He took extra shots. You can never have too many of this day.

Officially married and abuzz with excitement, we entered the elevator on our way out. Two floors down the doors opened and an old man shuffled on with us. He gave us a once-over and zeroed in on me.

You a bride?

Well, yes...we just got married. I held up my flowers as proof.

He turned to William.

You're a lucky man.

I know, William said.

The elevator stopped at his floor. I wish you all the best in the world, he said as he shuffled off.

William turned to me as the doors closed.

Well, that was our reception.

AN EVEN HOTTER DAY IN AUGUST (Part 2)

Can I wear shorts?

To say I lost it would be an understatement.

It's our wedding. What's wrong with you? Shorts?

I just don't get the big rush.

Fine, forget it.

It just seems all of a sudden.

I didn't dare tell him that I already had a bouquet waiting in the refrigerator.

Or that, one day last June, I'd picked up a white Indian-cotton just-in-case-he-asks dress.

Or that I'd already selected his outfit, having pressed a linen shirt and khakis of his.

Or that I'd made a dinner reservation for the next night at a restaurant overlooking the Santa Monica Bay.

Or that a bottle of champagne lay in the fridge next to the flowers.

No problem, William. Let's just dump the whole idea. We could both be covered on your medical insurance and I could get that new crown I need on my molar, but forget it. My teeth can all fall out. Who needs teeth? It's obvious you're having second thoughts—

Okay, okay, William whispered. He put his hand on my shoulder as I stifled sobs.

I pulled away.

Look, I'm just getting my head around the tomorrow-all-of-a-sudden thing, but by the time we wake up in the morning, I'll be with you one hundred percent.

I flashed back to our first year of dating. Four months into our relationship, William quipped, "Do you think you love me?"

And I'd slipped up. "Yeah, I do."

But he didn't respond in kind and I kicked myself.

Six months in, the phrase "I love you" still had not been uttered by either of us.

Eight months in, he said, "I know I haven't said the L-word yet, but once I do, I'll never stop."

What a weirdo, I thought.

Nine months in, I picked him up at the airport after he had taken a weekend trip. That night, he took my hands and said, "When the plane was taking off, I thought, What if something horrible happened and I hadn't told you my real feelings? And then I couldn't wait to get back here and say I love you, Mel. I really love you."

The benefits of being with a careful shopper suddenly made perfect sense.

And so, as the two of us and the dog made our way home on that Thursday night in August, I knew what William was telling me was true. If he said he'd on board in the morning, he meant it.

Still, my sleep would be uneasy. I'd have to see it to believe it.

Before going to bed, I checked on the flowers in the fridge. They were still fresh and waiting.

AN EVEN HOTTER DAY IN AUGUST (Part 1)

Of course, I plunged into planning the where, when and how of accomplishing the deed. My initial romantic notion, clearly influenced by some Clark Gable-Carole Lombard scenario, was to elope by driving up to Lake Tahoe and checking into a log cabin for a couple of nights. We could learn to fish, we would hike in the forests and we would eat rare steaks. And we would find a courthouse. All in two days.

This idea, however, turned out to be impossible because of William's work schedule. As I continued my research, I discovered it was no longer necessary to drive to Vegas or anywhere in Nevada to get hitched with little or no notice. Perhaps because of lost marriage licensing revenue, the State of California now made wedlock at city hall simple and quick. We could get a license and meet with a judge in the same day.

The blistering heat continued through August. We had no idea how long William would be on his current project and agreed we didn't want a traditional wedding. I made arrangements and shared them with him during an evening walk with our dog Stinky.

If we get up early tomorrow morning, the court clerk said we could get a license and be married by a judge within an hour.

Where?

The airport courthouse.

There's a court in the airport?

Well, no...it's called that because it's near LAX. Probably about twenty minutes from here.

Don't we need a blood test or something?

They don't do that anymore.

William tugged the dog away from a bush.

So, what do you think? I pursued.

About what?

I bit my lip.

Getting there at eight tomorrow morning.

Tomorrow? Why don't we go on Saturday?

Because they only do this on weekdays and all the other days are booked. The court clerk said tomorrow looked good.

Sounds like the court clerk is your new best friend.

Sounds like you're dragging your heels. Listen: I do not want to be one of those women who coerces, drags or manipulates a guy down the aisle. So are you up for this or not? If not, you do all the planning. Just tell me where and when.

My mood matched the cool air. I felt myself gliding into bitter surliness. This was William's draggy reluctance rearing its head yet again. I shouldn't have been surprised by this.

A HOT DAY IN JULY (Part 5)

Seriously, something strange is in the Scrabble bag. What is this? And I pulled out—

A ring.

Well, sort of a ring. It looked like half a ring. I held my breath as I studied it: gold, with tiny diamonds down the side, but next to them there were four empty prongs reaching skyward. There was no stone.

I placed it in my palm as I would a fragile seashell. In the bag I felt another not-quite-a-Scrabble-tile thing. I slipped my hand inside and pulled out another ring, this one with a large, clear, square diamond.

For a minute — or it could have been a week, who knows — I sat in front of the Scrabble board, mouth agape. When I finally looked up, William wasn't there.

He returned from inside the house carrying a Scrabble rack cribbed from our travel Scrabble set. He set the rack down in front of me. On it, seven Scrabble tiles read:

MARRY ME

When I looked down, William was on bent knee. I started crying. And then we were hugging. And we were both crying.

This was the thing? Scrabble?

Will you marry me?

Yes. Of course. I love you. Yes. Yes. Yes.

And the kiss was like our first. Sweeter than marshmallows dipped in raspberry juice.

So really, this was the thing? Playing Scrabble was the thing?

Yes it was. I decided I would propose the next time you suggested a game.

See, luck! You lucked out that I didn't suggest a game in Rome. I can't believe we didn't play in Italy. Merda! I can't believe we didn't play. Pure luck. You've had a long time to prepare. Seven months!

But once you mentioned it this morning I knew it was on and suddenly there no time.

What's the story on these rings, anyway?

They're from my mom. From her side of the family. I figured we could take them to a jeweler and have one made into an engagement ring with a setting you like and you can make the other into a wedding band. You decide.

Were they in the bag for both games?

Yes!

So that's why you lost. You were handicapped by nerves.

No, I lost because you were better.

Right.

You were better, that's all.

You were a wreck.

You don't give yourself enough credit.

I think I give myself enough credit. I'm getting married, aren't I?

The candles burned lower. A breeze made the flames jump. Stinky and Spencer dozed at our feet and I knew I would sleep very well tonight.

We were settling down and it felt right. If this could happen, maybe I could find answers to other questions. Maybe a settled place was the place to look up from.

But there was only one decision I had to make today.

Yes. Yes. Yes.