For Ken, having the apartment to go to made a change in his life style; in days, he found himself only eating and sleeping at the dorm complex. Bit by bit, things moved across town to his future residence. He was with Judy almost every evening. Mostly, they studied, but they also planned, making lists of things that needed to be brought on the next trip from Willow Lake.

The last weeks flew by in a hurry. Thanksgiving week was especially welcome, since it only involved three days of school. As soon as Ken’s last class was out, he and Judy were in the Sunbird, heading back to Willow Lake.

"The next time we see Athens," he told Judy, "We’ll be married."

"Seems strange," she agreed. "A couple of years ago, I’d never have thought it could ever happen to me."

"Crip, are you happy?"

"Don’t pinch me, Hick. I’m afraid I might wake up."

Irene’s sister, Naomi Callison, and her husband, Peter, had children who lived far away, so they had Thanksgiving dinner at the Niven house, along with Ken and Judy.

At the wedding rehearsal that morning, Ken had been warned by Judy that the dinner would be what he might consider to be a bit on the formal side; it was driven home to him when he understood that he was expected to wear a suit and tie. Accordingly, he dug around in his closet for the suit he had not worn since graduation and, at the dinner, found Norman also wearing a suit, something never seen at the feed mill. Perhaps the most surprising sight of all was Judy; this was the first time he had ever seen her wear a knee-length dress – but he reflected that here she was among family.

The small party sat around the Niven dining room table, which had been dressed with a cornucopia in the center of a faultlessly ironed tablecloth. Each place setting had cloth napkins, and about three times the silverware Ken was used to.

"What are you studying at Western State?" Mrs. Callison asked Ken.

Ken explained that he was studying agricultural business administration, and that was about the end of any topics that might be considered personal. No mention was made of the wedding scheduled for the next day; and, in general, the conversation stayed away from anything controversial. The weather was a safe topic, so long as it did not get too agriculturally oriented.

Dinner began with a first course of French onion soup, served in tiny china soup plates; a second course of tossed salad and rolls followed.

"Norman, dear," Irene said by way of warning as she brought a small, perfectly browned turkey to the table. After sharpening a large stainless steel knife, Norman set to carving the turkey; Irene took the results, and placed them on exquisite china plates, along with servings of sweet potatoes, broccoli with cheese sauce, and oyster dressing with gravy. Irene had figured the meal exactly; except for a small bit of turkey, there would be no seconds and no leftovers. Ken had the good sense not to comment on anything, except to say the food was good.

After a dessert of chocolate torte, the party repaired to the living room for more polite conversation; here, the wedding was discussed, but only in the vaguest terms. "How many people are you expecting tomorrow, Judith darling?" Mrs. Callison gushed.

"Perhaps thirty or forty," Judy responded. "Ken has some relatives who are going to stay over at his house until tomorrow."

Ken rolled his eyes. The odds were that, tomorrow being his wedding day or not, he wouldn’t see a bed tonight. He had hopes of spreading his sleeping bag on the sofa, but expected he’d wind up on the living room floor.

The plan was for Ken and Judy to go to Ken’s house for the remainder of the afternoon and the evening meal; since Judy was going to be among people she didn’t know, she went to her room and changed to a conservative pantsuit.

Halfway to the Sorensen farm, Ken pulled the Sunbird to the side of the road, got out, and began to peel off his suit coat, tie, and shirt. "What are you doing?" Judy asked as Ken began to pull on an old flannel shirt that, while not worn out, had seen better days.

"If you think I’m going in there in a suit and tie," he replied, "You’re crazy."

Ken’s mother had once told Judy that the family traditionally moved around among several relatives’ farms for dinner, and this had been the turn of the Sorensen’s, despite the wedding. Fortunately, the farmhouse had a huge dining room, with plenty of space for extra card tables.

After the sparse holiday dinner at her parents’ house, Judy was not ready for the mob of people she encountered. She never did get a firm count of the number of Sorensens and allied relatives that were milling around inside and outside the big old farmhouse. The kitchen table was piled high with leftovers; the refrigerator had reached its limits, and more was stored on the back porch. Lydia had not cooked all this; each family coming had brought two or three large dishes of something or other.

"Hi, Mom," he said, heading for a plate of cold turkey.

"Didn’t you eat at the Niven’s?" Lydia wondered as she watched her son tie into a handful of white meat.

"Not really."

"Ken!"

Ken shrugged, speaking around a roll. "It was good, what there was of it."

"Now, quit that," Lydia said. "Go introduce Judy to some of your relatives. Most of them have never met her."

Judy was sure she’d never remember all the names or relationships Ken threw at her in the next five minutes. At that, she didn’t have to deal with the younger children; this was Candybar’s big day. "We usually have to drag them in to eat," he explained.

A groan erupted from around the television set. "Which game is it?" Ken asked Tom.

"Packers and Lions."

"Who’s losing?"

"Tied up now, but the Packers were down by a touchdown."

There had been no football on the television set in the living room at the Niven house after Thanksgiving dinner. As Judy reflected that there was something else to get used to, Ken got interested in the game, which blared away in competition with a several cornered discussion that seemed to include farm machinery, cattle, and soybeans. After a while, the Lions picked up a Packer fumble on their own thirteen yard line and ran it back for a touchdown, and Judy could see that Ken was lost to civilization. She gravitated back to the kitchen to talk with Ken’s mother, and found herself in a group of eight women ranging from about her age to somewhere in their eighties.

As not everyone had met Judy before, Lydia explained how Ken started going with her after Judy had lifted the corn planter off of Chet. "I tried to move it later," Lydia explained after telling the story, which Judy brushed off as being nothing much. "I couldn’t budge it. Ken says he’s seen her lift that much weight in the gym."

"It’s too bad Ken isn’t going to farm," Carolyn said. "She has all the makings of a great farm wife. She really loves driving that tractor that’s been rigged up with hand controls."

Quite to Judy’s surprise, except for Carolyn, no one made too much of a thing about her and her crutches. Eventually, the subject turned to her wedding night, and shortly after that, to memories of other wedding, and families, and babies; and Judy, without being told, could see that she was already a part of this family. It thrilled her.

Ken found himself falling asleep during the second quarter of the Bears-Tampa Bay game. Maybe it was time for some fresh air, he thought. Besides, up against Chicago, the Buccaneers didn’t stand a prayer. He headed out to the back porch, where it was cooler and quieter. It was near dusk, and Ken found his father already on the porch, perhaps with the same idea in mind. "Never got the chance to ask," Chet said, "But how did the rehearsal go?"

"I think we’ll be able to fake our way through it," Ken replied. "We’d have to wing it anyway. Our matron of honor couldn’t make it this morning."

"You know," Chet drawled, "I’ve come to think a lot of Judy, and so has your mother. I think you two are a little quick about getting married, but I think she’s going to make a fine wife for you."

Ken explained that they hadn’t planned on marrying for another two or three years, but had decided they didn’t want to wait.

"If she takes to being a wife as well as she took to working around the farm," Chet said, "She’ll do all right."

"Yeah," Ken said. "It’s too bad, in a way, that we won’t be around farming that much longer."

"You’re still against being a farmer?"

"I never was against it," Ken said. "I just gave up on trying to figure out a way to do it." They had been through this discussion before, and now Ken sought a way to change the topic a little. "By the way, how’s the new combine working?"

"Worked, you mean," Chet said. "That went through all the corn we had this year like a knife through hot butter. Never had a minute of down time; just changed the oil when it needed it. We really missed you and Judy hauling wagons, though."

"How’d you handle that?"

"We had Merle Watson come over with his semi and bucket trailer, and leave it parked near where we were picking," Chet explained. "Every time we got it full, we’d call him up, and he’d drive it either up to the bins, or over to the mill. I mean, you’re hauling twenty tons at a crack."

"Often thought we ought to have a semi," Ken mused to his father. "Wouldn’t have to be a real new one, but there’s times like that when it could be real handy. And, maybe you could pick up a few bucks on the side hauling for other farmers, like Merle does. You could haul fertilizer in the spring, too."

"Tom’s said that, too," Chet replied. "After this fall, it doesn’t seem like all that bad an idea. Maybe we’ll keep our eyes open."

They talked farming for another few minutes – it was a comfortable subject – until the conversation fell off. They sat silent for a moment or two, and then Chet spoke up, "Son, I guess you know I wasn’t too hot about Judy the first time I met her. Well, she proved me wrong. She’s a fine little lady. She’s going to need some help now and then, and there’s going to be times when she’s too shy or too proud to ask. You just be sure you help her out when she needs it."

"I will, Dad," Ken promised.

His father went on with a warning: "Just don’t be too quick to help out when she doesn’t need it. I’m not saying not to be a gentleman with her all the time, but make sure you let her do things for herself. I guess you don’t need me to tell you that. You watched what her mother tried to do. Don’t let yourself be the same way."

"It’s hard, Dad. But, I’ve had a year and a half to learn that. I’ll remember it."

Thanksgiving supper at the Sorensen house was buffet style, on paper plates. Judy found herself eating at least twice as much as she had eaten at her parents’ house, and still people urged her to try some of this or that. She was faced with a decision of which of six different kinds of cake to have for dessert; it all looked good, but her stomach was groaning. She wound up having none of them.

With some reluctance, Ken was dragged away from the television to take Judy home. She had a lot to do to get ready for the next day.

One of the first things Judy tried to deal with was more packing; she didn’t want to take all the things she’d accumulated in her room to Athens, and realized it might sit here for a long time, assuming her mother didn’t pack it up in boxes. Irene was making sounds about taking over her bedroom so she and her father could have separate bedrooms, something that she had been dreaming about for years.

Judy went through her closet and drawers, now and then packing the odd item, knowing that a part of her life was ending. She might never sleep in this room again, after this night. She’d spent many painful nights here, many tear-filled nights when she’d been afraid that she’d never be a normal person again. Now, as she prepared to leave it forever, she reflected that she’d finally come to accept what had happened to her, and was prepared to get on with her life.

She found her leg braces in her closet. She hadn’t had them on in a year or more, now; but she remembered all of the agony of having to use them, and putting up with the agony of hoping to be able to walk once again. Tomorrow was her wedding day, and once she’d hoped that she could walk down the aisle on that day, if it ever came, like a normal person.

With the braces on, she could walk, after a fashion, but now it didn’t seem to matter. Was there any point in taking them to Athens? She couldn’t think of one. They probably didn’t fit her now, anyway.

She took off her pants and put on a pair of shorts, and found that her fingers still remembered how to fasten the braces, and how to adjust them so they gave her the least discomfort. Heaving herself to her feet with her crutches, she tried an experimental step, and then another, and found that she still knew how to use them as well. Her steps were small, and still not terribly steady, and she felt glad of having her crutches in case she started to fall.

She remembered all the trials and tribulations she had gone through to get that far, in the dream of walking again. That dream had faded, now, and didn’t seem as important as the life that was opening before her.

But still . . .

"Daddy," she called. "Would you come here, please?"

The weather in the latitude of Willow Lake can often be miserable in November, and Ken was surprised to wake up and find a bright, clear day that was almost warm. He couldn’t help but wonder how many wedding guests would rather be out combining corn; it was certain that some wedding guests would have to shut down their machinery early in order to be ready for the ceremony.

Ken had wanted to sleep in; after all, he had a big day planned, and the hopes of a bigger night. However, sleeping on the hard living room floor in his sleeping bag kept his head bouncing up and down whenever anyone walked anywhere in the house; since this was a farm, and there were morning chores to be done, that bouncing started about five in the morning. Ken grimly held on until about seven, and then gave up.

Out in the kitchen, Ken found his mother presiding over a hot stove, getting breakfast ready for the house full of guests. He didn’t feel much like eating, but settled for a plateful of pancakes and sausage.

Feeling overfull, Ken set out on the one item he had planned for the morning. He didn’t want to let the Sunbird get messed up, since there wouldn’t be much time to get it cleaned up again. Yet, he knew that some of his friends had other ideas, and he had hopes of keeping things under control.

He took his father’s shotgun, went outside, and whistled to Hal, who ambled over to him, tail wagging. They got in the Sunbird, and Ken drove over to an abandoned barn on the Duck Farm, where he locked the car in the shed. He had hopes of kicking up a rabbit or two on the walk back, but Hal wasn’t much of a rabbit dog. Still, it was a nice walk through the corn stubble, perhaps a mile and a half back to the house, even though no rabbits were seen.

That little chore took him less than an hour, and he was at a loss for what to do with the rest of the morning.

With Hal walking near him, Ken wandered around the farm buildings, looking for something to do. He came to Candybar’s stall, and thought that the old horse looked a little ragged after all the riding she had endured the day before. "You need a good brushing, old girl," Ken murmured, and set to work.

Hal flopped down on a straw bale and went to sleep. Ken looked up from his work after a while and mumbled, "You lucky dog, you. At least you get your morning nap."

After a long bout with the brush, Ken had the old horse looking almost ready to show, and she seemed to appreciate the extra attention. Ken would like to have saddled her up and ridden her for a few minutes, but he knew if he got the saddle out, he’d have aunts by the handful mad at him. Their children would be out on the horse, rather than getting ready for the wedding.

After a period, Ken realized that he ought to be getting ready, himself. Leaving Hal asleep on the straw bale, he went into the house, and managed to sneak into the bathroom when it was vacated for a moment by one of his female cousins, who apparently needed at least two hours to put her face on. He took a good, hot shower, and had a close shave. He combed his hair out, trying to ignore the pounding on the door, and finally pulled his robe on to leave.

His cousin was waiting angrily. "What took you so long?" she asked in a huff as she pushed past him. He heard the door slam and the lock click shut.

"Women," Ken snorted, then remembered. Today he was marrying one.

He put on his shirt, but found his pants had disappeared; they were the ones he had worn the day before. He put his jeans back on, and went looking for his mother. He found her in the kitchen. "I’ll iron them right after lunch, dear," she promised.

Back upstairs, he wondered what Judy was doing that instant. Probably trying to calm down her mother’s dithering, he imagined; with Irene, everything would have to be JUST right.

Lunch was mostly leftovers from the day before; Ken thought it would be interesting to see just what he could recognize at the reception, too. He found himself still not hungry, and after a while, he pushed himself away from the table and went to sit in the living room.

He realized that he was getting nervous. This was a big step he was making, and he wasn’t at all sure how it would turn out. When he had mentioned getting married to Judy last summer, and then again, last month, it had seemed pretty casual, a natural thing to do. Now, maybe it didn’t seem like such a bright idea, but he had to face up to the fact that he was committed.

"Ken!" Carolyn’s voice broke his reverie. "You aren’t dressed yet? Do you really intend to get married to that girl today?"

"My pants kind of took a walk by themselves," he said. "As soon as they walk off the ironing board, I can be ready in five minutes."

"You’d better iron them yourself," Carolyn snapped as she turned to leave the room. "You’re going to have to learn to do all sorts of little things like that."

Ken found himself reflecting how Carolyn and Irene would make a good team, but he was surprised to see his sister-in-law bringing his pants to him a few minutes later.

"Hey, great," he said. "Thanks. You’re learning to do a few little things yourself, too."

Lori sang, her clear, throaty voice ringing in the Willow Lake Methodist Church, while Bob backed her on the twelve-string.

With Tom standing beside him, Ken watched the matron of honor wheel herself down the aisle. He had known that Sylvia had been shocked to tears to be asked to accompany Judy. He had not seen their Hinckley College friend since summer; now, he could see at a glimpse that her condition was, as expected, worse than ever. Never the less, Sylvia was still trying to wring everything out of life she could.

Bob moved to the organ, and began to play, Here Comes the Bride. Ken turned to look at Judy coming down the aisle in her mother’s full-skirted white satin and lace gown, very traditional and formal. Holding onto her father’s arm, Judy slowly, steadily walked down the carpeted aisle . . .

Walked?

Ken’s heart skipped a beat. He could hear murmurs in the crowd, even over Bob’s playing. Judy was walking down the aisle, without her crutches!

All of a sudden, Ken remembered Judy once saying that she could walk slowly, for a short distance, if she used her braces. He’d never seen her do it, and had the impression she’d given up trying.

For those peripheral relatives who didn’t know Judy well, the walk was nothing special. It was different for those who knew her, those who agonized with every painful step. What was going through Judy’s mind was intense concentration on each little stride as she held her father’s arm for balance, with a little room left for a continuous prayer: "Dear God, don’t let me fall!"

Ken had expected to see Judy rather solemn as she stood by him at the altar, but when he stole a close-up glance, he could see beads of perspiration mingle with tears – tears of joy, he hoped. She took his arm, and he could feel that firm grip he had first encountered at the prom eighteen months before. Wordlessly, he realized more truly than anyone else there, the symbolism when she quit depending on her father for balance, and began to depend on him.

After that, the ceremony was just a formality.

Why did Tom let you drive his pickup?" Judy asked as they drove to her house after the reception. The truck was emblazoned with smart remarks, toilet paper, tin cans, and all the other paraphernalia that goes with weddings.

"I didn’t ask," Ken replied. "I just drove off with it. Since he was planning to be the chief decorator, I figured he wouldn’t do anything to it that he couldn’t clean up himself."

Most of the wedding party was still at the reception; Norman and Irene had agreed to give the kids time to change clothes and get away. Ken pulled into the driveway of the Niven house, and he and Judy – now using her crutches – went inside.

"I thought my heart was going to stop when I saw you coming down the aisle, with no crutches," he said.

Judy nodded. "I thought my heart was going to stop before it was over," she agreed. "I never thought I’d be so happy to see my crutches again."

They went into Judy’s room. "How do I get you out of that thing?" Ken asked.

Getting Judy out of her wedding dress wasn’t a simple proposition, and Ken had to hunt up all sorts of little hooks and fasteners here and there; then, there were three petticoats and a slip that had to be removed before getting down to the level of the braces. Ken wasn’t sure what surprised him more: the scanty white lace underwear, or the braces themselves, which included a pair of shoes that reminded him of army boots.

In any case, the braces were obviously going to have to come off. He set to unlacing one boot, while she began work on the other. He realized in a moment that Judy knew what she was doing; she had everything unfastened by the time he had the boot freed up. "Leave them in the closet," she said. "I don’t think I’m going to mess with them again."

"In a minute," Ken said, sitting down beside her on the bed. He laid her back, and planted a big kiss on her mouth; it lengthened as it went on and on. He reached around behind her, and began to unfasten her bra.

She pulled away. "We’d better not do it now," she said. "Mother and Daddy might come home if we waste too much time, and even though we’re married, I’m not sure my mother is ready to find us in bed together."

It was a relief for both of them to be back in jeans and flannel shirts, and be back in the Sunbird heading to Athens and their apartment, after dropping Tom’s decorated pickup off at his house.

At the best of times, it took three hours to drive the distance; it took longer than that this evening, for they stopped for hamburgers to supplement the ice cream, potato salad, cold cuts, punch and cake of the reception.

They were pulling into Athens when Ken said, "Honeymoon in Athens. Too bad it’s not Greece. I’m just sorry we can’t have a real honeymoon, but we’ll just have to do the best we can this weekend."

Judy smiled. "Maybe this will hold us until next summer, and then maybe we can go back up to the cove and do what we really wanted to do."

Ken parked in front of the apartment. "Anything in the car you need tonight?" he asked.

"Only the blue suitcase," Judy responded. "Everything else can wait till tomorrow."

"Fine." Ken picked up the suitcase, locked the car, and escorted Judy to the apartment door, where he set the suitcase inside after opening the door wide. He turned to Judy. "Hold on tight to my arm, and give me your crutches. Both of them," he ordered.

Judy did as she was told. Ken set them inside the door, and with a quick swoop, had her in his arms. He carried his wife inside, and kicked the door shut with his heel; it locked behind them as he carried her on into the bedroom.

He laid her down on the bed and began to take her clothes off. "Ken! Stop!" she cried. "I had a special nightie I wanted to wear!"

Ken started to undo her bra again; she hadn’t changed it from before. "Don’t worry," he said. "You can wear it all day tomorrow, except when you don’t have anything on at all."