Just as she'd wanted, the church was bursting with people. Over two hundred 
guests were inside, and more than that waited outside the doors as we were 
married on March 12, 1959. Because we were married on such short notice, there wasn't time to make many arrangements, and people came out of the woodwork to make the day as special as they could, simply by showing up to support us. I saw everyone I knew-Miss Garber, Eric, Margaret, Eddie, Sally, Carey, Angela, and even Lew and his grandmother-and there wasn't a dry eye in the house when the entrance music began. Although Jamie was weak and hadn't moved from her bed in two weeks, she insisted on walking down the aisle so that her father could give her away. "It's very important to me, Landon," she'd said. "It's part of my dream, remember?" Though I assumed it would be impossible, I simply nodded. I couldn't help but wonder at her faith.
I knew she planned on wearing the dress she'd worn in the Playhouse the night of the play. It was the only white dress that was available on such short notice, 
though I knew it would hang more loosely than it had before. While I was 
wondering how Jamie would look in the dress, my father laid his hand on my 
shoulder as we stood before the congregation.
"I'm proud of you, son."
I nodded. "I'm proud of you, too, Dad."
It was the first time I'd ever said those words to him.
My mom was in the front row, dabbing her eyes with her handkerchief when the 
"Wedding March" began. The doors opened and I saw Jamie, seated in her 
wheelchair, a nurse by her side. With all the strength she had left, Jamie stood 
shakily as her father supported her. Then Jamie and Hegbert slowly made their 
way down the aisle, while everyone in the church sat silently in wonder. Halfway 
down the aisle, Jamie suddenly seemed to tire, and they stopped while she caught her breath. Her eyes closed, and for a moment I didn't think she could go on. I know that no more than ten or twelve seconds elapsed, but it seemed much longer, and finally she nodded slightly. With that, Jamie and Hegbert started moving again, and I felt my heart surge with pride.
It was, I remembered thinking, the most difficult walk anyone ever had to make.
In every way, a walk to remember.
The nurse had rolled the wheelchair up front as Jamie and her father made their 
way toward me. When she finally reached my side, there were gasps of joy and 
everyone spontaneously began to clap. The nurse rolled the wheelchair into 
position, and Jamie sat down again, spent. With a smile I lowered myself to my 
knees so that I would be level with her. My father then did the same.
Hegbert, after kissing Jamie on the cheek, retrieved his Bible in order to begin 
the ceremony. All business now, he seemed to have abandoned his role as Jamie's father to something more distant, where he could keep his emotions in check. Yet I could see him [bad word] as he stood before us. He perched his glasses on his nose and opened the Bible, then looked at Jamie and me. Hegbert towered over us, and I could tell that he hadn't anticipated our being so much lower. For a moment he stood before us, almost confused, then surprisingly decided to kneel as well. Jamie smiled and reached for his free hand, then reached for mine, linking us together.
Hegbert began the ceremony in the traditional way, then read the passage in the 
Bible that Jamie had once pointed out to me.