Undo the Deed

Flood Tide

June 17, 1967

"I do." The words had a musical tone as she spoke them. An elation coursed through her that was so intense she felt as if she were about to burst out of her body. She looked over at the many guests who had come to witness and share in her joy, then at the one who was the source of that joy. Oh, he was so handsome in his tuxedo, his hair perfectly combed, his new thin mustache making him look quite debonair. But Lisa Stafford was a vision herself. The blond-by-peroxide hair that adorned her elegantly made-up face made her feel like an adult, and the lace wedding dress, all white and full of promise, gave her a blissful sense of satisfaction. She loved this boy-man, that is, now that they were both nineteen-and it was almost unreal that in just a few minutes she would be his wife. This was a dream she had coveted for nearly three years, and now it was manifesting. There had been a time that they had split up, a devastating time, and she'd finally resigned herself to the idea they'd never reunite. But here they were. A perfect, perfect moment. No one and nothing could spoil this.

Except maybe a passing thought. She suddenly wondered if he would be standing here marrying her if she wasn't with child. An accident caused by their initial reconciliation, to be sure, but when she found out she was carrying a living continuation of him, well, an abortion was out of the question. She also quickly dismissed her concern over one or two episodes of violence and the fact that she thought he drank too much sometimes. He swore up and down that he'd never hit her again and would reduce his alcohol consumption. Lisa believed him. Besides, he'd been wonderful the last two months. It didn't really matter now. He'd finally proposed; he was all hers. Now it was official. She was beginning a new life with a new name-Mrs. Lisa Grant.

"And do you, Matthew Gregory Grant, take this woman, Lisa Ann Stafford, to be your lawfully wedded wife-to have and to hold from this day forward, and, forsaking all others, promise to be faithful to her as long as you both shall live?"

"I do," Matthew answered immediately-almost too immediately. He nearly choked on the words. But nobody noticed. Fortunately, Lisa seemed so blinded by love she didn't seem to be aware of his lack of enthusiasm. He was tempted by thoughts of walking out, of leaving this girl crying in the lurch, but he stayed put. It wasn't that Lisa wasn't good to him, and certainly not that she wasn't pretty. He loved her. He guessed he loved her. He should, after all-he was marrying her and was determined to make the best of it. And early next year, he would be a father. Was he up for that? He'd have to get a better job. He looked out into the faces of family and friends, catching the attention of his own father, who gave him an encouraging thumbs-up sign. Matthew hoped he'd be a better parent to this child than that man had been to him. He also hoped no one, especially the minister, would notice the drink he took before this walk down the aisle, or the small, empty whiskey bottle he'd tried to camouflage in the bathroom's wastebasket. His stomach burned like the assortment of candles that surrounded them in the small church. He smiled and unceremoniously placed the ring with the artificial diamond on his bride's finger when they were pronounced man and wife, lifted her veil, and kissed her when instructed. The organ played the happy notes of "The Wedding March". The guests applauded.

Matthew swallowed.