© 2006

Most people loved a good wedding.

Cole Erickson hated them.

It wasn’t that he had anything against joy and bliss, or anything in particular against happily-ever-after. It was the fact that white dresses, seven-tiered cakes and elegant bouquets of roses reminded him that he’d failed countless generations of Ericksons and had broken more than a few hearts along the way.

So, as the recessional sounded in the Blue Earth Valley Church, and as his brother, Kyle, and Kyle’s new bride, Katie, glided back down the aisle, Cole’s smile was strained. He tucked the empty ring box into the breast pocket of his tux, took the arm of the maid of honor and followed the happy couple through the anteroom and onto the porch.

Outside, they were greeted by an entire town of well-wishers raining confetti and taking up the newly coined tradition of blowing bubbles at the bride and groom.

Somebody shoved a neon-orange bottle of bubble mix into Cole’s hand. Emily, the freckle-faced maid of honor, laughed and released his arm, unscrewing the cap on her bottle and joining in the bubble cascade.

Grandma Erickson shifted to stand next to Cole. She waved away his offer of the bubble solution, but threw a handful of confetti across the wooden steps.

“Extra two hundred for the cleanup,” she said.

“Only happens once in a lifetime,” Cole returned, even though the soap and shredded paper looked more messy than festive.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.”

Cole could feel his grandmother’s lecture coming a mile away. “Grandma,” he cautioned.