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Everything felt surreal for her, and it wasn’t until the hairdresser finished her make-up and hair, put on her veil, and turned her to look in the mirror, that she fully realized that she truly was going to marry Aleksander Maximilian.

“Ava?” the faceless whisper of Aleksander followed by a double knock on the glass had her smiling and running to open the veranda French doors.

“Come on in before Olivia finds you,” she urged.

He looked wonderful dressed in a gray three-piece suit, perfectly tailored to showcase his tall, strong frame, paired with a cranberry red silk tie. On another groom, the red might have seemed garish; on Aleksander, it illuminated.

“I need some help,” he told her showing in his palm the delicate buttonhole made of natural cedar leaves, dried white star flowers, mini pinecones and a cluster of holly berries trimmed with twine for a more masculine effect.

That was only an excuse to see her. He had spent the night in the guest room, banished from his own rooms by Olivia, who has slept in his bed to make sure he wouldn’t, in her own words: be a bad boy and invade the bridal chambers.

“There. You’re ready,” said Ava to Aleksander as she pinned the boutonnière on his lapel.

He looked down at her and picking up her hands in his, he whispered, “You are breathtaking.”

She tsked and shook her head at him. “I am not even dressed. I’ll bet you say that to all your brides.”

Despite knowing that she was trying to lighten the mood with humor, Aleksander responded seriously. “No, actually, I don’t. You’re the only bride I’ve met, who in less than a month has made my daughter’s dream come true in the most perfect way and have given me hope for a future which was utterly impossible and beyond my ability and resources,” he assured her, softly. “Add to this, that you’re also the only bride who truly turned my world upside down in the moment I met her.”

“I suppose that just makes me unique.”

“Unique…” He nodded as he savored the word. He placed a chaste kiss on her mouth and, lowering his voice, he said, “Yes, that describes you perfectly. And I couldn’t ask for better or more.”

“Neither could I.” She reached up and placed her palm over his heart, and they shared a moment full of mixed emotions: grief, joy, desire, concern, and hope swam through each of their eyes, but none of it was spoken.

“Daddy? Where are you?” Olivia called from the corridor. “The guest will be here at any moment!”

He put a finger on his lips with a mischievous smile on his face, but before he could stealthy leave the room, Hildegard entered the walk-in closet.

“Oh!” She waved her hands. “Young man, haven’t you heard a groom can’t see the bride before the wedding? Shoo, shoo.”

“See you downstairs in a bit!” Smiling, he placed a quick kiss on her mouth and made his escape through the veranda.

Hildegard put her hands on her hips. “Tell me you didn’t show him the dress!”

Ava laughed. “I haven’t, Mormor.”

Ava had probably tried on what felt like five hundred wedding dresses. While she found one or two she liked, she still wasn’t sure of what she wanted. She didn’t want the dull fantasy element of a bridal designed dress, as Olivia envisioned; but still, she didn’t want to marry in a middle-length dress, as suggested by a few of the many designers who had flocked to Lake Tahoe solely to show her their options, each one of them eager to please the new Mrs. Maximilian. Even though none was chosen for their bridal dresses, they all flew back to their places with huge smiles and each thousands of dollars richer, since Ava and Hannah acquired a few pieces.

And then on Tuesday afternoon, when Ava was almost giving up, Alicia brought the yet to be released Carolina Herrera Spring/Summer 2016 collection and the designer herself.

When they showed Ava the light-as-butterfly-wings dress, with fluttering long sleeves, featuring white-on-white and emerald-and-silver embroidery in a delicate floral and leafage pattern, she fell in love with it. And when Ms. Herrera told Ava she had been inspired by Byron’s She Walks in Beauty, Ava knew she had found her dream dress.

“Perfekt!” she’d exclaimed, in her native accent the instant she saw it.

Now, closing her eyes, Ava fought to regain her calm as her grandmother helped her put it on.

She took long, deep breaths. Gradually, she felt the tiny gurgle of hysteria dissipate.

“You look so beautiful!” said Hildegard, closing the top button of Ava’s dress.

She crossed the room to give herself a final glance over. She was immediately arrested by her reflection in the full-length mirror on the back of the door. Clean-lined, the delicately embroidered gown yoked to emphasize her handspan waist and gave her height the right amount of elegance.

She looked beautiful. And she felt beautiful, too. She ran her hands down her sides to her hips, over the delicate embroidery that covered the palest-blue bra and bikini panties she wore beneath the dress. For luck—because if one was going to wed, it was important to cover all bases. As for something old, her mother’s favorite diamond earrings sparkled in her ears.

“Bride of the year,” Ava murmured, then she laughed. She felt pretty, curvy, beautiful. And surrounded by love.

“I wish your mother could see you,” whispered Hildegard, coming to stand beside her. Her grandmother sniffed and a trembling smiled opened on her face. “But then, she might be watching now and she will give me a piece of her mind when I meet her for being sentimental.”

Ava turned and hugged her grandmother. “Thank you, Mormor. For everything.”

“Ava, Hilde?” Eirik’s voice came from the doorway.

“Come on in, Morfar.”

Hildegard and Ava straightened and smiled at each other.

“I have instructions to escort you to the living room when you’re ready.”

Hildegard flipped her waist-high veil—much against Olivia’s insistence for a very long one—over her shoulder, stood on her tip-toes and kissed Ava’s cheek. “I wish you all the happiness in the world, skatten mim.”

When Hildegard left the room, Ava turned to Eirik and placed her hand in the crook of his arm. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

The harp and violins signaled for Olivia it was time and she tugged at her father’s hand.

Wearing a stylish Little Red Riding Hood velvet cape over her white dress with a white velvet bodice and an enormous white tutu skirt, which Ava helped her choose, she began walking the makeshift aisle, proud she was the one taking her father.

Aleksander could feel her little hand trembling with excitement and the huge grin on her face didn’t leave an ounce of doubt to the guests that she was happy that she had succeeded in getting him to marry Ava.

Because even with the possibility of a cure already taking root in her mind, she did think Ava was the perfect woman to take care of her father.

And Ava would be even more perfect if she got to be her stepmother forever.

She stopped near the tree where the registrar, who would officiate the wedding, stood at attention, and looked up to her father, winked, and then moved to stand by Lydia’s side.

“Doesn’t she look beautiful?” she asked in a whisper to her grandmother Lydia, as Ava appeared on Eirik’s arm, walking sedately down the flight of stairs, then along the hallway.

Lydia nodded, blinking back the tears which were swimming in her eyes, trying to make them go away, but they spilled over her cheeks.

“Don’t cry, Nana. Mom would not be sad seeing Daddy happy.” Suddenly Olivia grasped Lydia’s hand in hers and her grin faltered, a flicker of doubt appearing in her big blue eyes. “She wouldn’t, would she?”

Lydia mustered a smile to her trembling lips and whispered to her granddaughter, “Rachel would very much approve of your choice, Liv. And I’m not sad. I am just an old emotional granny who cries at weddings.”

The answer seemed to appease Olivia, who began to whisper anew about the wedding settings, pointing to Lydia what were the details she had thought of.

Even though her heart was surely missing a part, Lydia’s smile grew. Because getting to see Ava replacing Rachel made Lydia’s heart small in her chest, at the same time there was a comforting warmth.

Olivia, that precious living piece of her daughter, was beside herself with joy, and Aleksander, her son-in-law, was a good man who deserved all the happiness in this world. Her own daughter had also been on the receiving end of his love and devotion. She had no doubt that Rachel would approve of his love continuing to flow to others.

And, Ava, well, a woman so devoted to the happiness of another woman’s child was a rare thing indeed.

Soft music filled the room, the tree sparkled, a fire crackled in the hearth, the scent of pine mingled with the delectable aroma of the turkey roasting in the oven; the setting couldn’t have been more cozy.

Ava did her best to calm the excitement heating her blood, the spark that had started low in her belly, buzzing her so hard it was almost unbearable.

Aleksander squeezed her arm gently when Eirik put it on his, almost as if he could sense her nerves and reassured her that he was there.

“We’re all together here to celebrate this union between Ava Larsen and Aleksander Maximilian…”

“Look at her, not at me,” Olivia whispered, motioning to them to look at each other, and dutifully, Ava and Aleksander obeyed.

The registrar official motioned to them, “And now for the reading of the vows.”

They faced each other and smiled as both produced small square of papers—Ava from her left long sleeve and Aleksander from his inner suit pocket.

Unfolding the paper, Ava scanned once more the vows she and Olivia had written together. “I promise I will be there for you in good times and in bad times and to forever be kind of friends with you. I also promise to turn on the heating when you are cold, even if I am burning hot.”

She stopped to press her lips together, keeping the laughter inside herself, her gaze connecting with Aleksander’s. Humor twinkled in his eyes.

In unison, they both glanced at a beaming and proud Olivia, who signaled with a thumb’s-up. It was all they could do to not burst out laughing, though the guests were already chuckling and chortling around them.

Ava took a deep breath, faced Aleksander again, and staring into his grayish-green eyes, she continuing, borrowing words from Mark Twain, “A marriage makes of two fractional lives a whole; It gives two purposeless lives a work; And doubles the strength of each to perform it. It gives to two questioning natures a reason for living; And something to live for. It will give new gladness to the sunshine; A new fragrance to the flowers; a new beauty to the earth; And a new mystery to life.’” And, squeezing his hand, almost as if she didn’t want anyone else but him to hear, she finished in a soft voice, “As I vow always to be true, I promise myself to you.”

He had to clear his throat before he began, “Ava, I promise I’ll never get mad or yell at you. I’ll be nice and helpful; I promise to take out the garbage, even in the pouring rain or freezing cold. I also vow never to steal your covers. Well, unless you are hogging them.”

Aleksander looked up from his page to see her smiling at him. Humor replaced by sincerity, he recited a small passage from Victor Hugo’s Les Misérables, “The future belongs to hearts even more than it does to minds. Love, that is the only thing that can occupy and fill eternity. In the infinite, the inexhaustible is requisite. Love participates of the soul itself. It is of the same nature. Like it, it is the divine spark; like it, it is incorruptible, indivisible, imperishable.’” The tremor in his voice at the start of reciting his vows had faded and now his baritone resounded in the room, strong, solid, and steadfast. As she had done, he finished with a promise from his heart, “And I vow I’ll never let you go.”

It was the voice of a man who had at last determined what he wanted, his course in life.

The voice of a man in love.