SOS by Glory, Girl Writer.pdf - Dawson's Creek Fandom Wiki

day reminding himself -- in a way that now seemed so preposterous it was downright
laughable -- to tell her how pretty she looked and how much he loved the dress.
When the doors opened at the back of the church, he felt his heart pounding so hard it
felt like it was going to jump out of his throat. When he saw her, though, it calmed a
little. Her dress was deceptively simple -- no sleeves, no lace, no beads, just a wash of
white silk from the deeply scooped neck to the floor. Clusters of lilies-of-the-valley in her
hair -- a feature that, when he heard it described, he had been afraid would make her
look like a hippie or a Precious Moments figurine -- instead made her look like she had
simply become so perfect and so lovely that she had exploded in flowers, and on
another day she might sprout stars or bright red hearts instead. She came closer and
closer, and he had a strange moment of regret that he couldn't stop her -- he would turn
her to face the crowd, show them how she looked, ask them if they'd ever seen anything
like it. The answer, of course, would be no.
And then she was there. They faced each other, and she handed her flowers to Bessie.
He took her hands, running his thumbs over them. "You made it," he whispered.
"We both did," she whispered back.
***
Grams sent everyone to the reception and insisted on staying behind to make sure they
left the church the way they found it. "You go with your friends, Jennifer," she had said
simply, "and I'll be there shortly. It's my church, and I want to make sure no one has
reason to think I didn't do my best to take care of it." She had kissed the top of Jen's
head, given a quick squeeze to Chris's hand, and sent them along.
Now, she walked down the aisle, between the pews, picking up stray tissues and a few
wedding programs. They'd come later for the flowers, she knew, but she just couldn't
walk away from trash on the floor. She made her way into the little room where Joey
had finished getting dressed, and noticed a folded sheet of lined yellow paper on a little
white table. Picking it up and unfolding it gingerly, she read just the first line. I have
loved you since I was much too young to know what it meant. Grams slipped it into her
pocket. "Well, Joey will want this back, I think," she said softly to herself. Everything
else was spotless, so she slipped across the hall to the other dressing room.
Surprisingly, a small stack of index cards was sitting on the seat of a chair. She picked
them up and turned them over. You are a light in the dark, Josephine. Shaking her
head, Grams took this with her as well.
She wandered back into the pews and slid into one, happy to take the weight off her
tired feet. Feeling a little guilty, she pulled the paper and the cards from her pocket. "I'm
not invading anyone's privacy," she said softly, "because I've already heard them. I just
want to . . . hear them again." Holding a finger to her chin, Grams skipped her eyes
across Pacey's vows, then Joey's.
You are a light in the dark, Josephine. It has never been a simple thing to love you. An
easy thing, but not a simple thing. Nevertheless, I cannot tell you how many times I
have gotten up in the morning and somehow forgotten for just a minute that I have you in
my life, and when it hits me again, I am always struck by a tremendous sense of