Avril’s prospective mother-in-law entered the chapel halfway through the ceremony with a letter demanding the wedding be canceled. Avril was unprepared for the disclosure storm that erupted.
Weddings should be cheerful mayhem, but mine went into new area. Allison, my future mother-in-law, was fantastic throughout wedding planning. She gave me her old gown, adjusted it, and assisted with the food and décor. I never questioned her love or support.
“You look absolutely stunning,” she said hours ago, putting me into her redesigned dress. “Like this was made for you.”
“Thank you, Allison,” I murmured, wiping back tears. For everything. For immediately making me feel at home.”
She cried too, and I thought everything was beautiful. until Allison departed mid-ceremony. She returned to the chapel crying “STOP THIS!” and holding a letter. My heart dropped.
Allison approached me, sobbing and blotchy, while the throng buzzed. Her strong grip on my hands brought tears.
She said, shivering, “I’m so sorry.” “I wasn’t sure, but now I know.”
I gazed at my groom, Sam. His face was astounded as mine. “What’s up?” I asked calmly.
“Mom, please,” Sam said, grasping my hand. “Whatever, can’t it wait?”
“No,” she responded nervously. “It demands immediate action.”
She apologized, shaky, to everyone. I’m sorry. But I need to talk to the bride and groom alone. Avril, Sam, please join me outside.”
My adoptive father said, “Avril,” midway from the first row. Would you want me to—?
“It’s alright, Dad,” I managed, voice shaky. “We’ll handle it.”
The tension within was strong as Sam and I followed her out. We entered the bright sunshine with heavy legs and a pounding heartbeat.
Allison faced us with the letter shaking, and the coolness hurt. “I don’t even know how to begin,” she said.
“Just say it,” Sam advised. “What’s up, Mom? Why cancel the wedding?
“Sam, wait,” I murmured, holding his arm. She seems shaken. Let her talk.”
“A few months after you two started dating,” Allison said, eyes hazy, “I noticed a small birthmark behind your ear. It matches mine.”
At first, her statements sounded pointless. My instinct was to touch behind my ear.
“I thought it was just a fluke,” she said. But at supper a few nights ago, I saw it again. It was too precise to overlook. My decision came then.”
Which option? I asked, fearful.
She wiped her tears, looked at me. “That night, I watched you brush your hair and put your brush in your bag. Later, I submitted a hair strand for DNA testing. I didn’t anticipate the results before the wedding, but they came this morning.”
You did what? Sam stepped forward, barking. “How could you, Mom? That’s a major violation—”
“Please,” Allison pleaded, taking his hand. “Please let me finish.”
My heart hammered. A DNA test? Why do that? You suggest what?
Allison inhaled shakily. “I had a girl baby with my high school boyfriend when I was fifteen. He fled when I informed him I was pregnant. My parents had me give her up. I signed agreements promising not to find her or know her future. I sought for her for years but never found her until today.
Minor knee buckling. My thoughts was racing as Sam steadied me.
“You’re my daughter, Avril,” Allison murmured. “You’re my lost baby.”
The world changed. “What?” Oh, I gasped. “I’m your daughter?”
“The DNA test confirmed it,” she replied, emotional. You’re mine biologically.”
I looked at Sam in horror.
“Oh no,” I muttered, placing my palm over my lips. “This can’t happen.”
“If you’re my mother,” I panicked, “then Sam—”
“No!” Allison burst in, shaking her head. You’re not related. Let me explain.”
Not related? Samantha’s voice broke. “What are you discussing?”
Holding the letter, she approached. When I was 21, I married. My husband and I adopted a son since we couldn’t have kids. Sam was seven when we brought him home. This boy is my son in every aspect, yet Avril, you and he are not related.”
I felt relief, then perplexity. Sam was shocked and crying.
“I remember that day,” he muttered. When you took me home. You called me your miracle.”
“You were,” Allison said, patting his arm. “You both are.”
I didn’t want to ruin your wedding, Avril. But I couldn’t let you do that without knowing. And now… Her voice broke again. “I have more than a daughter-in-law. I have daughter.”
Rest of the day was hazy. The vibe had shifted after we ended the ceremony in the church. Allison had tearful eyes in the front row.
My mind raced during the reception. Mother-in-law was my biological mother. Sam was not my brother, but she considered him her kid.
“I feel like I’m in a movie,” I muttered to my adoptive dad during our dance. “Dad, how is this possible?”
His embrace was closer. You’re my daughter forever. It’ll never change. Maybe you can love two mommies now.”
Later, while dancing, Sam said softly, “You okay?”
“I don’t know,” I shakily said. Is anything okay?
“We’ll get through it,” he said, holding my hand. “You married me today—you found someone you lost long ago.”
“What if this changes everything?” I whispered. “What if it changes us?”
He softly raised my chin. Nothing will alter my feelings for you. Ever.”
I looked at Allison across the room, her expression unsure. My inner state changed for the first time.
In subsequent days, we chatted a lot. Allison described years of suffering, shame, and wondering whether her baby was safe.
“I used to write letters,” she informed me one night, giving me a tattered shoebox. “Every birthday, holiday. No idea where to send them, but I couldn’t stop.”
“Sometimes,” she remarked, “I found a street girl who reminded me of you and my heart ached. I was afraid to approach them.”
“I don’t know what to feel,” I told her. “It’s overwhelming.”
“I get it,” she responded, all tearful. “Be patient. Thank you for being here.”
Strangely, I was thankful.
Allison joined us for supper weeks later. I relaxed as we laughed and reminisced.
“Do you remember,” Sam grinned, “when you caught me trying to ship myself to Disney?”
A cardboard box!” Allison laughed, wiping tears. “Pack a peanut butter sandwich!”
She replied, “Thank you for giving me my son again,” as we cleaned.
“And thank you for giving me the mom I never knew I missed,” I said.
She reached into her handbag and added, “I have something for you.” “My first letter to you—the day they took you.”
I grasped it with shaking fingers. “I’m not sure I’m ready to read it.”
“That’s okay,” she murmured, squeezing my hand. We have time. We had no time before.”
Sam came in and grabbed my shoulder. “So I married into the most confusing, beautiful family ever.”
“The best kind,” I remarked, glancing at my husband and my mother-in-law.
I recognized he was correct. Yes, complicated. Beautiful too.
