…”his lawful wife. He never signed the divorce papers. He told me so in confession, and he asked me to marry them anyway.”
The church went so quiet I could hear the candles hiss. I had mailed Paul those divorce papers eleven years ago to the overseas address he’d given me. They had come back signed. At least, I’d thought they had. I’d been single ever since, believing that chapter was closed.
“That’s impossible,” I said. “I have the signed papers at home.”
Paul wouldn’t look at me. Father Michael said gently, “The signature you received was not his. The court never finalized anything. He told me he panicked eleven years ago and let a friend sign for him so you would stop looking for him.”
Then I looked at my best friend, Denise. She wasn’t surprised. Not at all. “You knew,” I said.
She lifted her chin. “He told me eight months ago. He said once we were married, you’d have to sign real papers. You’d never want a scandal.” Her voice cracked. “You had him for fifteen years. You didn’t even want him at the end.”
That part was true. I hadn’t wanted him at the end. Paul had disappeared with our joint savings and a pile of credit card debt in my name. It took me six years to pay it off. Denise knew that too. She had brought me groceries during those years.
The guests started whispering. Paul’s mother, who had flown in from Arizona, stood up and asked her son if any of this was true. He didn’t answer, which was an answer.
I took off my maid of honor sash and set it on the front pew. “I’ll sign real papers, Paul,” I said. “My lawyer will send them on Monday. And since I’m still legally your wife, I suppose half of whatever you’ve built in the last eleven years is part of the conversation now.”
For the first time, he looked truly scared.
The divorce was finalized four months later. The judge was not impressed by the forged signature. Paul owned two rental properties he had bought while still married to me, and the court ordered him to repay the debt he’d left in my name, with interest.
Denise sent me a long message a few weeks later. She said she was sorry and that she’d been afraid of losing him. I read it twice and decided not to answer. Some friendships end at the altar too.
I used the settlement to take the trip to Portugal I’d always talked about. I went alone, and it was the best two weeks I’d had in twenty years.
