How to Make a Wedding: Twelve Love Stories

Amelia! You have to forgive me! The village was attacked by a swarm of fire ants. They ate everything in sight, including some of the animals. All they left behind were the skeletons. We had to flee in the middle of the night and . . .

Okay, I’m lying. That didn’t happen. But I did read about it happening in a book once. The less adventuresome truth is that I’ve been swamped in Chuukese and absolutely consumed with these kids. I love them. Every single one of them. And lest you feel too neglected, Internet service is practically nonexistent here. Tonight it’s working, so I am typing as fast as possible before it cuts out again. If I travel to the city, I can call you. Other than that, there’s not much point in having a phone.

Tell me what’s going on with William! He’s engaged to a cheater!? What can I do to help? And you hit a guy with your car!? I tell you what. I leave and your entire life falls apart. Please tell me the flower shop is still standing. Oh, and how’s Baxter? Scratch his ears for me.

Love you,

Rach

PS: When are you coming for a visit? It’s long past time for you to get a passport.



From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Date: Fri, Sep 25, 2015 5:20 a.m.

Subject: Re: I’m the world’s biggest basket case

Your help is no longer required! Things are fine with William. He and Bridget are engaged, yes. But she’s not a cheater. At least I hope she’s not. They’re getting married on October 24th, which is in less than a month!

I didn’t hit a guy with my car. I hit a guy’s car with my car. That’s a big difference. He’s the one who actually helped me work through the drama with William and his fiancée. He gave me some great advice, and I think everything’s looking up. I’m good. More than good, in fact. I’m feeling pretty great. :)

Now tell me more about Fiji! You love the kids. You’re learning the languages. Are you ever going to come home?

Missing you like crazy,

Amelia

PS: If I ever get a passport, I should probably go somewhere less intense than a village in Fiji for my first trip. Like maybe Ontario.



From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Date: Fri, Sep 25, 2015 2:12 p.m.

Subject: Re: The Man Who Knew Too Much

Dear Amelia,

I’m not sure I’ve met anyone who apologizes as much as you apologize. And what’s ironic is that you’ve not done anything that warrants an apology. Are you up for a challenge? I challenge you not to apologize for apologizing too much. Think you can do it?

Anyway, thank you for the e-mail. I’m glad I’m not being a nuisance and that you’ve enjoyed our exchanges too.

So tell me, how did you become a florist?

Best,

Nate

“There are far, far better things ahead than any we leave behind.”

—C. S. Lewis



From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Date: Fri, Sep 25, 2015 7:08 p.m.

Subject: The Shop around the Corner

Dear Nate,

Challenge accepted. I will not apologize, even though everything in me wants to do it. And FYI, hitting you with a car most DEFINITELY warranted an apology. That’s all I’ll say about that.

How did I become a florist?

I happen to love that question. My mother was a florist. She owned my flower shop (which is actually on a corner, not around a corner) before I owned my flower shop. Back then it was called The Flower Pot. I have the fondest memories of helping her put together bouquets as a little girl. She started me off on cleaned (no thorns), long-stemmed roses (which are the easiest bouquets to make). Every time I smell them, I think of her. She and my dad used to slow dance in the store. Whenever I sweep the floor, I think of them that way. Smiling and slow dancing. I would sit behind the counter coloring in my coloring book and watch them. They had the best kind of love.

Even though I was only six when she died, not a day goes by that I don’t think of her. Random things remind me of her. Like all your talk about Cinderella. She used to read me bedtime stories at night. All kinds. But my favorites were the fairy tales. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t relate to Cinderella a time or two in my teenage years, even if my stepmother and stepsisters aren’t actually evil.

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