1 Chapter 1

1

“We gather here today, in Tennessee, to join Goose and Patrick in holy matrimony.”

Our officiant’s name was Mae. Ironically, we’d met the one-hundred-year-old former USO singer at the local youth center back in New York, where Carrie had worked the previous summer to help put on a production of The Wizard of Oz.

“I’ve done a lot of these weddings over the past forty years,” Mae said. “But this is my first in a forest on Halloween.”

Jack-o-lanterns winked at us, with golden light flickering behind their triangular, oval, or comma shaped eyes. I’d counted twenty, among more uncarved pumpkins, big and small, orange, green, white. Beauty was in the eye of the beholder, and a collection of other gourd types, many misshapen, added whimsy and a touch of spookiness. Some sat on scattered hay, some on gathered bales, many on the bare ground. There were potted colorful mums set all about as well. Our friends and families had taken charge of the decorations. The result was an all-out All Hallows Eve spectacular.

“Relatives, friends, Heavenly spirits and angels…” Mae looked skyward and paused to catch her breath. “Accept our invitation. Come witness this blessed union and join us in celebration.”

We waited, Goose and I, along with our guests. Standing beside Daniel and Jefferson’s oak tree, we hoped to feel the presence of those special to us who had passed, family members, recent acquaintances, and especially our two guardian angels.

“Please hail, as we do, all forms of love, intellect, strength, and togetherness.”

A dark and stormy night—not yet dark, but soon to be, not yet stormy but predicted—beneath a canopy of muted but colorful leaves set off by a pale gray southern sky at twilight was the perfect setting for our “I dos.” Autumn had always been Goose’s favorite season, Halloween his favorite holiday. Now, they were mine, too.

“I love you, Goose Tucker,” I mouthed.

“I adore you, Patrick,” he silently offered back.

Gray and black shadows from skinnier trees circling the majestic oak that was tribute to Daniel and Jefferson’s pledge to forever creaked and groaned in the chilly autumnal breeze. Eerie sounds to some, we found them quite welcoming and perfect for the occasion and guest list. More hay bales served as seating, and a narrow dirt path that snaked through the small forest made a perfect aisle, one Goose and I had walked down hand in hand, as Carrie sang “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.”

“We are blessed to stand with you, Goose and Patrick,” Mae said, “and thank Dear Mother of Earth for the wind and the sun, the clouds, the moon, the stars, storms, and seasons, and acorns that grow into oak trees. We are grateful she brought us here, a rather unlikely group, to such a wonderful place. Marrying the one you love is a privilege many have enjoyed for centuries, one some took for granted, one some could only wish for, one many had to fight to get. A concept many never saw as possible in their lifetime, we can finally call a right of equality. Marriage is a cause for joy, an expression of affection, a promise of forever.”

Our wedding attire was casual; jeans and an untucked white button-down under a black vest plus an orange pocket square printed with white ghosts for Goose; black jeans, a black and orange flannel shirt for warmth, and suspenders with acorns all over them for me. It was far less fussy than the 1800s formalwear and top hats we’d donned to stand beside Daniel and Jefferson at their wedding in Heaven. We’d considered putting all that on again, or even costumes at one point, to celebrate the other traditions of October thirty-first. Goose had suggested I show up as Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle Leonardo. Seeing him in formfitting Batman tights appropriate to his size would have been a treat. A Wizard of Oztheme had also been discussed. Goose felt as if he’d embodied The Scarecrow quite well as he’d wracked his brain to figure out how to bring Daniel and Jefferson, now Ft. Lauderdale cop Tate Wishum and Micah Crane from Colorado by all appearances, at least to us, back together. So many times over summer and early fall, I’d heard him say to himself, “Think, Goose, think.”

It had taken quite a while, but with the help of others, I’d eventually found the courage to get on with my life after facing death back in April. Cowardly Lion fur and a tail would have been just right for me.

We had a Toto in attendance, who my mother cradled in her arms, while Rip, who would have made a perfect Tin Man, because of his big heart, held on to our little French bulldog, Wilbur.