Chapter 21: A Fitting End

“I’d like to get back to the gym,” he told Karen a few days later.

“Really, Mark. That’s great,” she responded with a smile.

“Maybe if I can get my upper body strength back, that’ll help me feel better. I hate lying around like a dolt all day.”

Karen smiled. She knew better to say anything or to suggest that perhaps his renewed interest in body-building might have something to do with her quiet campaign to show how he could live a successful life in spite of his disability.

“We’ll have to do it early in the morning, before I have to go to work,” she said.

The result was that Karen and Mark arose every day about 5 a.m. for the daily trip to the gym, allowing more than an hour for a workout, and giving her time to get to her intern duties at the Arts Council by 9:30 a.m. Theresa, his therapist, agreed she could adapt her work schedule to work with him on three of the days; Karen would coach him on the other days.

The first few days were difficult and frustrating for Mark who found himself floundering weakly as he worked the parallel bars, attempting to move forward using only his arms to hold himself upright. His therapy thus far had been mainly to keep his limbs flexible, and in the months since his injury his once strong arms had grown flaccid and weak, unable to propel him more than a foot or two, before he began to collapse and had to be assisted back into his wheelchair.

Several times he cried and was about to give up. Some days, he refused to be cheered, but Karen and Theresa persisted. Eventually, he grew in strength and confidence and by the end of summer he was accomplishing remarkable feats through the use of his restored strong upper body.

*****
Their love for each other was tested several times during the summer. Karen thought that Mark was enjoying his therapy sessions with Theresa too much, and that the young woman seemed to pay an inordinate amount of attention to him; Karen realized she was being foolish, since there was no doubt that Theresa’s services had gone a long way to his recovery and that Mark benefited from her efforts.

There were several incidents, however, in which Karen thought Theresa was overly intimate in working with Mark. Karen usually absented herself from the room when Theresa came to the home to work with Mark, feeling her presence might stifle the therapist’s work. The same was true once they moved to the gym, where Karen would leave to do her own mild workout, while Theresa would work with Mark. Karen became terribly bothered one morning when she returned to see Theresa’s hands all over him. Karen thought such touching was unnecessary to his recovery.

After Theresa left, Mark looked at her angrily: “You weren’t very nice to her, Karen.”

“Wasn’t I? I said ‘hello’ and ‘goodbye,’ didn’t I?” she said defensively.

“You weren’t nice about it,” he said. “She’s helped me so much, Karen.”

“Yes, so I noticed. Yes, she’s so nice to you.”

There was no mistaking the sarcastic tone of Karen’s voice.

“If you can’t be nice, why come around when she’s giving me therapy?” he said, his voice rising.

“You know why, Mark. I love you.”

“Well you have a strange way of showing it,” he said, turning his head away from her to look out the window.

“It just seems you enjoy all these other girls who come to see you, like that cheerleader you knew at Iowa State,” Karen said. “How often has she been here, Mark? You hot for her, too?”

“Oh for chrissakes,” he said, his voice growing in exasperation. “She’s been here three times, if you must know. And don’t call her ‘that cheerleader,’ like she’s some sort of whore. Her name’s Mindy and she was in my lab mate in biology and she’s smart as a whip.”

“You seem to know all about her, don’t you?” And you saw her when you wouldn’t see me.” Karen referred to the days he lay in the rehab center, refusing to see her.

In their drive home that morning, they said nothing to each other. Mark stared out of the window, refusing to look at Karen, who drove more slowly than usual, struggling to keep her moist eyes focused on the road. At the house, Mark refused Karen’s help in leaving the van, struggling mightily — but successfully — in his power chair to enter the house. Finally, her tears flowing freely, Karen stormed into the house and upstairs to the room the family had provided for her that summer. She had to get away from the scene; she detoured into the bathroom to dry her face.

She didn’t like what she saw in the mirror. It wasn’t that her face was all puffy and that her eyes were red and moist but that she saw herself suddenly as a jealous, vindictive woman. It was a sight that disgusted her immensely. There was no evidence Mark was romantically interested in either woman; hadn’t Theresa told her she was in her late 20s and had a child? And, what was wrong with a friend from college making a visit, even if she was cute?

It was a feeling that had cropped up several times in her mind during the long period of Mark’s rehabilitation. Karen also feared that since she was not a natural born woman that Mark would eventually cease to love her and would want a “real woman.” In truth, Mark had never shown any inclination to reject Karen due to her gender issues; nonetheless it was a fear that dogged Karen off and on for all their time together.

Finally, after cleaning herself up and applying fresh makeup, Karen left the bathroom feeling better. She decided not to go to her room but to return to the den and make peace with Mark. She loved him. There was no question about that and she knew he loved her. There would be no room for jealousy in the future, although the fears remained in her heart.

For his part, Mark often had the same feelings of jealousy; it cropped up on the night he saw her perform in “Picnic” and engage in a passionate love scene with the actor playing Hal. It seemed too real and Mark grew jealous of what he saw on stage. Might she eventually dump him for a more able bodied man than he was ever going to be? It was a thought that continued to trouble him, even though Karen continued to profess her love for him. Mark wrestled with himself on this, since he recalled she had wrongly called the actor “Mark” instead of “Hal” in one scene, which would indicate her strong love for him. Yet, Karen had responded far too passionately on stage that night while in the arms of the other actor.

In bed, however, Mark and Karen were passionate lovers. Even though Mark’s legs were useless, his sexual organs remained healthy and active. Karen experienced orgasms several times a night, each time with breathless gasps and squeals. In their relationships, they were patient, generous and generally understanding of each other. They seemed destined for each other if they each could overcome fears of inadequacy and doubts about the other’s desire for a more complete partner.

*****
In September, the two separated, with Mark returning to the Iowa State campus and Karen to the State University. They missed each other terribly and talked each night on long phone calls and constant texting during the day. While Mark had help getting around the Ames, Iowa, campus, he found many barriers to his mobility; the campus had been fully outfitted to the demands of the Americans with Disabilities Act, but he often ran into unexpected challenges to the use of his wheelchair. These restrictions, plus the need to spend at least two hours each day in therapy sessions, made it necessary that Mark reduce his class load for both semesters of that year.

Karen involved herself deeply into her studies in social work, while continuing her work as assistant to Professor Fenstrom. Her admiration for the man’s theatrical skills grew even more as he saw him mold the raw, young students into mature actors. Mercifully, he seemed to have stifled his lecherous ways and Karen’s workmate in his office, Deborah, suspected it was a combination of a university administration having laid down the law to him privately, his wife’s own demands and the mere physical effects of growing older.

Despite Fenstrom’s insistence, she refused a role in the autumn play that year, “A Streetcar Named Desire.” Fenstrom pleaded, “You’d make a perfect Blanche.”

“I think Heather will be a great Blanche, professor,” she said, referring to her actor friend and friendly rival for the ingénue roles in the University Players company of actors. In truth, Karen would have loved to do the part, but she felt she’d be overwhelmed trying to juggle her studies, work and concern for Mark. Also, she found she was gaining greater interest in working with people; she was volunteering one day a week at a halfway house for recovering women addicts, who were usually mothers.

Meanwhile Karen secretly assisted Heather in her lines and the girl turned out to be a convincing Blanche, portraying the character’s highs and lows with understated, but effective, intensity. Karen took supporting roles in plays during her sophomore year.

The following year Mark joined Karen by transferring his credits to the State University (with his costs largely covered through an insurance plan that covered injured college football players), where he and Karen became roommates. They were able to find a first floor apartment that was fitted for persons with disabilities, a block from the University’s elaborate athletic complex where Mark continued his studies in physical education, while taking drama as a second major. The University football team welcomed him as well — perhaps spurred on by urgings from his friend, Merritt King — and he served as a student assistant, working with the strength coach.

Karen tried to adjust her schedule so that she could assist Mark in getting around, but she soon learned that her future husband had quickly figured out how to do things for himself; he became a popular and familiar sight on campus, and gained no end of support as he moved about the university grounds.

She continued to act, winning several supporting roles in the University’s plays during her junior year. The novelty of her transgenderism had wore off and she began being judged solely upon her talent as an actress. In spite of considerable success on stage, her interest in acting and the theater became less important to her.

“I’m going into social work,” she explained to Professor Fenstrom when he questioned her about her reasons for not trying out for lead roles. “I just feel compelled to help people. I know acting is a worthy profession and people need the arts, professor, but for me, I think I need to be more hands-on.”

Nonetheless, largely at the urgings of Mark and her friend Ramini, Karen agreed as she started her senior year that she might seek to win a few key roles before she graduated. Besides, she knew Mark was enjoying his drama classes where he was training mainly to be a director, perhaps realizing that trying to be an actor while wheelchair bound would be a fool’s enterprise. Karen, however, had dreams of her own and hoped to prevail upon Fenstrom to do “Sunrise at Campobello” so that Mark could try out for the role of Franklin D. Roosevelt and she could play Eleanor Roosevelt.

She and Mark remained on campus during the summer and she made a point of confronting Fenstrom to propose that he schedule the play for that next year.

“Professor Fenstrom, this would be an ideal time to do the play, particularly since Mark is in school here,” she said. “I haven’t asked him but I bet he’d love to act again. He’s really good.”

“Karen, I know he loves the theater. I’ve had him in one of my classes and was impressed, but he has only done limited acting. Besides, I can put any actor in a wheelchair who could do the part and I would want to have the best actor possible for that part,” he said.

“I know, but this will be one of the few chances Mark will be able to act on stage,” she said, tears forming in her eyes. She knew how much he loved performing, which was now largely denied him due to his disability.

“Besides, professor, Mark has lived through the same doubts and depressions that President Roosevelt did at Campobello and he’ll be able to be totally believable.”

Fenstrom said finally gave in. “OK, but he’ll have to try out just like everyone else. I won’t promise him any part.”

“Thank you, professor,” she said running over to hug him and give him a friendly kiss.

“On two conditions,” he said firmly after she retreated. “First that you agree to play Nora in ‘A Doll’s House’ this fall, and second that you don’t pressure me that you should play Eleanor in ‘Campobello.’ You’re far too pretty for that part.”

“That’s unfair, professor. Mrs. Roosevelt was a beautiful woman in her own way and I’d love to try out for the part.”

“The makeup crew would have to reconstruct your whole face for you to become Eleanor, and you know it, Karen. This is one time when your nature prettiness works against you. But you’d make a great Nora.”

Karen nodded. She knew Fenstrom was right; while Mrs. Roosevelt was a heroic and very accomplished woman, she certainly was not a pretty woman in the classic sense.

“You want me to play Ibsen’s Nora?” she asked. “That’s a tough part.”

“Yes, and you can do it, Karen.”

The role would really test Karen’s ability to act, since the role of Nora in Ibsen’s “A Doll’s House,” called for her to play a more mature vibrant woman who was locked into a restrictive, vapid life.

That fall, Karen tried out for the role and won the part easily. As rehearsals began in mid-October, she was immediately sorry for her decision. Fenstrom was relentless in his directing behavior, continually nit-picking line after line and mannerism after mannerism. It took many hugs from Mark to calm her down when she’d return to the rooms they shared.

In the last week of rehearsals and after a particularly demanding run-through, Karen retreated in tears to her dressing room, exhausted and feeling humiliated at her ability to satisfy the professor’s commands.

She had taken off all but her panties and bra when she heard a tentative knock of the door. She didn’t answer it, but sat stiffly on the vanity bench, her hands in her lap feeling sorry for herself.

“Karen, let me in, please.” It was Fenstrom’s voice, sounding kind and gentle, a direct contrast from the way he had flung his words at her during rehearsal.

“Just a minute,” she said, putting on a robe.

The door opened and the professor entered, closing the door behind him. Karen no longer feared he’d make any sexual advances, but still wondered why he visited her room alone and then closed the door. He took a seat on a folding chair opposite her in the tiny room, their knees nearly touching, and he took her hands in his, holding them as a father would to comfort a grieving daughter.

“Karen, I know I’ve been tough on you, but I think you’ve responded magnificently,” he began.

“But you make me feel out there like I’m doing everything wrong,” she protested.

“I know this is a difficult role for you, Karen, since it requires you to become a woman who has lived a dull, lusterless life while your own life has been full of excitement and changes. The success of this play, Karen, rests on you, since the other actors play off you.”

He found a tissue and reached over, tenderly wiping tears from Karen’s face; it was a surprising gesture coming from a man who just minutes before had so mercilessly berated her.

“Doing Ibsen before a college audience is difficult, Karen, since young people aren’t used to such introspective drama, and it’s critical we make it alive for them, and I want to tell you that you have nailed it. You’re doing a great job, so buck up. You’ll be a great Nora.”

With that, he got up from the chair, patted her face gently, smiled and left the room.

Karen’s performance on opening night was a resounding success, as evidenced by the review in the following morning’s paper, which said in part:

“. . . It’s a shame that we had to wait three years to see this lovely young actor perform a lead role on stage, but Karen Hansson who lit up the stage as a freshman student in Eric Fenstrom’s ‘Picnic’ was back playing the part of Nora in Henrik Ibsen’s ‘A Doll’s House.’

“Ms. Hansson brought feeling and life into the dour life of Nora and helped transform a play that modern audiences often find boring into a tension-filled experience. Sadly, it appears that audiences will soon not have many chances to see her perform on stage; she’s serious about pursuing a career as a social worker and eschewing an acting career, according to reports.

“There are a few seats left for the two remaining performances. Don’t wait. This play is a rare treat, as is watching Ms. Hanson.”

*****
Professor Fenstrom selected “Sunrise at Campobello,” for the spring play for the University Players, as Karen had hoped. True to his word, Fenstrom opened up auditions and made a special effort to get Mark to try out for the part of Roosevelt.

To Karen’s shock, Mark refused to audition and the two entered into a terrible argument.

“I don’t need to be pitied,” he said angrily to Karen when she suggested he audition.

“Mark, you’re a great actor. And with your experiences as . . . ah . . .”

“As what? A cripple? Yes, that’s what I am. Is that all I’m good for?”

“But Mark!”

“It’s no Karen. That’s all there’s to it. No. N — O.”

“Please, Mark. The part is made for you.”

“Yeah, of course it is. A part for a cripple! How many plays feature sorry cripples like me? The answer is no, Karen.”

Karen fled their room in tears, running out of doors without a coat in the February cold, realizing she had been terribly insensitive in the way she raised the issue. She slipped on the icy sidewalk, catching herself before she tumbled down. The near fall brought her back to sanity and she returned to their apartment. The two ended the evening in deep, loving embrace.

*****
Mark never did audition, but agreed to help coach the talented young actor chosen to play Roosevelt in navigating the wheelchair and in other movements. It was clear he enjoyed being involved in the work of putting on a play, and soon Fenstrom expanded his role to provide further coaching to other actors.

Karen never tried out for the role as Eleanor Roosevelt, and instead took the role of Missy Le Hand, Roosevelt’s personal secretary, where her pretty face made her a logical choice. While the performance was a great success, perhaps the greatest satisfaction that Karen felt was the realization that Mark had been a major part in creating the hit. He was so engrossed in the work that he seemed at times to forget he was bound to a wheelchair.

Karen graduated in May, and the couple stayed in their digs off campus that summer so that Mark could complete his senior year and graduate. Mark had lost a year of study due to his injury and difficulty in transferring some credits. Karen used the summer months to have gender reassignment surgery, take time for rehabilitation and complete her physical transition to womanhood.

“I’m a complete woman, now,” she told Mark when she returned after surgery.

Even though the two were roommates, they decided not to consummate their love until their wedding night. It was a tough decision to make, since Mark’s sexual abilities were fully intact, in spite of the injuries to his legs.

“I’ve waited this long, Karen,” he said. “What’s a few more months?”

“Oh darling, but I want you so bad,” she had said on her first night back.

She had turned to the artificial device to keep her new vagina open and active, and Mark helped her in that regard, using his large strong fingers as she came to orgasm. Karen was more easily aroused since her operation and her screams and passionate shouts were wild and noisy as Mark masturbated.

“Darling, I only wish I could conceive your child,” she said, realizing that inability was all that separated her from becoming a total woman.

*****
“I could never love anyone more than you, Mark,” Karen said one night as they supped over a pizza, salad and cheap wine dinner.

“You mean that, Karen?” he said, holding her hand.

It was a few days before their wedding ceremony scheduled to be held in late August, just before Mark was to return for his senior year and Karen was to begin her work with the agency where she had interned. The two were at a side table in a small Italian restaurant near campus.

“More than ever, Mark,” she said.

“Even as crippled as I am?” he said.

“Dammit, Mark,” she said angrily. “Don’t you ever let me hear you say that again.”

“But . . .”

“No Mark, I love you, all of you, dear,” she said, rising slightly from her chair so that she could lean across the tiny table and kiss him.

“And I love you, Karen, and always will,” he said.

“Even though I’m not a complete woman?”

“For chrissakes, now you’re talking silly. I love you just as you are, Karen.”

The two looked at each other; the room’s lighting was dim, but Karen felt she saw tears glistening in the eyes of her lover.

“I think we’re both silly, Mark. We were destined to be together ‘til death do us part,” she said.

“We are silly, aren’t we? Let’s toast to that thought . . . that we’re both silly,” he said, raising his glass.

She raised hers and they touched their glasses gently.

“No, Mark,” she said. “Let’s toast our everlasting love.”

They raised and touched their glasses together again.

Just then, an older woman at an adjoining saw the couple, and said: “Pardon me, you two. I hate to intrude.”

Karen and Mark looked at her; she was with a man who appeared to be about her same age.

“Oh that’s OK ma’am,” Mark said politely.

“You seem such an adorable couple and my husband and I just wondered. I think you two must be newlyweds, but my husband kept telling me it’s none of our business.”

Mark laughed, looking to Karen to answer. “You’re almost right ma’am. We’re getting married Saturday.”

“Congratulations, kids,” the woman said.

Her husband nodded and raised his glass in salute to Karen and Mark.

“See, Harold,” the woman said. “They are so happy; remember when we were first married. Remember how happy we were?”

“Yes, dear,” he said, quickly adding: “And, dear, we still are.”

She nodded, and Karen turned to them to ask: “And how long are you two married?”

“Forty-nine years,” the man said.

“And still happy together,” Karen said. “See what we’ve got to look forward to, Mark.”

“I just knew you two were newlyweds — or almost newlyweds — since you both had such a glow about you,” the woman said.

Finally the man said to his wife: “Myrtle, let them alone now.”

Turning to Karen and Mark, he said: “May we buy and share with you a bottle of champagne to celebrate your coming wedding?”

The waiter moved the two tables closer and the two couples enjoyed the champagne, with the older couple remembering the details of their engagement and wedding. Naturally, they both argued about some of the details, which led to laughter by all four.

“See what you’ve got to look forward to 49 years from now, kids?” the man said, his eyes twinkling with joy.

“We’ll never forget this night,” Karen said. “You’re an inspiration to Mark and me.”

She looked at Mark and wondered if he was about to cry. She knew they would have this night in their memory banks “’til death” took them apart.

*****
Karen Hansson tried to hold back the tears as she walked down the aisle of St. George’s Chapel for Students on the University campus. Awaiting her at the end of the aisle in his wheelchair was Mark Hamilton, sitting erect and handsome as ever in his tuxedo.

As Karen began her steps forward, following her flower girl and bridesmaids, she clutched the arm of her brother, Sonny, who was given the role of escorting her down the aisle. Wearing a tuxedo for the first time in his life, Sonny was uncomfortable, and Karen couldn’t resist smiling at his plight. She loved him dearly.

In the choir loft at the rear of the church, the organ began playing, and soon a lovely mezzo-soprano voice filled the church. It came from Mary Catherine Delaney, the Newman Club member who had at first recoiled at Karen’s transistioning and later became a close and dear friend. The words of the more than 100-year-old classic “I Love You Truly” were fitting for Mark and Karen.

I love you truly, truly dear,
Life with its sorrow, life with its tear,
Fades into dreams when I feel you are near,
For I love you truly, truly dear!
A love ’tis something, to feel your kind hand,
Ah yes, ’tis something, by your side to stand,
Gone is the sorrow, gone doubt and fear,
For you love me truly, truly dear!

She held her head high and only the moisture in her eyes betrayed her successful battle to stop from crying. Through her watery eyes she examined the persons in her wedding party, already standing at the front of the church and looking back at her; they were all wearing knee-length lavender gowns, cinched in at the waist, with high collars. Her matron of honor was Ramini Verma Livingston who was absolutely ravishing. The three bridesmaids were Jenny Hanready (who had been in many classes in the School of Social Welfare with Karen), her long-time friend, Angela Schaefer, and Heather Thompson, her actress friend. They were all smiling broadly and Karen had gained great strength in their warm friendship and support through the years.

Gathering almost as many admiring “ahs” and “ohs” as the bride was the darling Tasha Foreman, the olive-skinned three-year-old flower girl, the child of Beatrice and Ellis Foreman. Beatrice had been Karen’s co-worker at the Olympus Restaurant in their hometown who at first had been appalled at Karen’s transition as a violation of Christian values. Karen eventually won her friendship after she took Beatrice to the nursing home at which she volunteered, where Beatrice met and eventually married Ellis Foreman, the grandson of one of the residents, an African-American man.

Karen, too, was pleased to see that Sharon, who had been head waitress at the restaurant and Karen’s early confidant as she began her new life as a young woman, was in the audience with her soon-to-wed friend, a husky, bearded utility company lineman named Lawrence Kowski.

“I remember you from the restaurant. The Texas breakfast man,” Karen said to Sharon’s friend when they met briefly as Karen arrived at the church.

“Yes, honey, and I remember flirting with you,” he said with a smile. “But you wouldn’t have me, so I found another girl just as sweet.”

“Now, Lawrence, you know that on this day the bride has to be the prettiest and sweetest,” Sharon interjected.

“That she is,” the bearded man said. They all laughed and Lawrence led Sharon to her seat.

The four men who made up the rest of the wedding party were also smiling. Mark’s brother, Billy, who was best man, stood tall and straight behind his brother’s wheelchair; the lad clearly liked Karen since he shared Karen’s interest in the arts, not having been as athletically inclined as his brother. Jeremy Foster, from the Newman Club, Aaron Livingston, now Ramini’s husband, and Merritt King, who three years earlier won the Heisman Trophy and had established himself as a star professional football player after only one season, rounded out the group.

Karen wore the traditional bride’s white. Her gauzy, lacy gown ended at the knees. Thin straps went over her shoulders, exposing her soft, lovely arms and neck. The use of hormones had further brought a warm fleshiness to her body and bulked up her smallish breasts enough so that she did not need to enhance them artificially. She carried a bouquet of white carnations.

“You’ll be the loveliest bride ever,” her mother gushed with pride as she was being dressed.

“Oh mother, I’m sure every mother has told her daughter that,” Karen laughed.

“I suppose they have, but in your case it’s the truth,” her mother said. “You truly are ravishing, honey.”

“Does my hair look all right, mom?” she said, brushing a loose strand from her face.

“Lovely, dear, but let me tidy up these few strands that seem to have gone astray,” she said.

*****
“Have you ever seen such a radiant bride?” Harriett Burkhalter, who had been Karen’s baby-sitter and onetime confidant, whispered to the distinguished looking man next to her. The once vibrant older woman had begun to display fragility that comes with age, but her eyes sparkled as brightly as ever.

Harriett — still called “Aunt Harriett” by both Sonny and Karen — was considered part of the family and was seated with Cecelia Hansson and her family, including the distinguished man to whom she had made her statement. The man was Michael Kelly, the attorney who had become Cecelia’s constant companion and now her fiancé.

“She is beaming, isn’t she?” Kelly replied softly to Harriett. “They’re so happy, but they will have tough times ahead.”

“Probably so, but I know Karen will guide them through it all. She’s a strong girl, and I think Mark is as strong and determined to succeed as anyone,” the old woman said as she watched Karen walk down the aisle.

*****
Three well-dressed, but remarkably plain-looking girls from Karen’s morning “coffee club” were seated in a pew midway down the aisle and watched as Karen moved with elegant poise. Beverly, Tricia and Tracy all strained to look at the bridal party.

Tracy was accompanied by Gabriel, the young man who was Karen’s first, though short-lived boyfriend. Both he and Tracy radiated healthy energy; their faces were reddened from weather exposure having spent the first year after their graduation as newlyweds working on the farm of Gabriel’s parents. Karen mused that the couple would eventually inherit the farm continuing their lifelong venture together as man and wife. Tracy was already “great with child,” as the saying goes, and the prospect was that there’d be many, round-faced, healthy ones to follow.

“God, Karen’s a beauty,” Tricia said softly to Beverly.

“Do you think we’ll ever get to walk down an aisle, Trish?” the girl asked.

Both had tears in their eyes; they felt overwhelming happiness for Karen.

“We’ll never be as beautiful as Karen, but I would hope we all share the same sweet and generous soul as she does, Beverly, and if we do, we’ll have a sweet life ahead, with or without a man,” Tricia said.

“Can you imagine how absolutely beautiful her soul must be?” Beverly said.

*****
Perhaps two of the most elegantly dressed persons in the church that day were not in the bridal party. Whitney Roberts and his life partner, Tyler McHenry, stood out in their almost identical stark white suits, purplish ascots, carnations in their lapels and white shoes. Karen gave both a faint nod of her head as she moved past them down the aisle, and the two responded with broad smiles. They were holding hands.

*****
Karen saw Father Jim at the foot of the altar, standing erect, awaiting the arrival of the bride. She smiled at the priest who responded with a slight wink that likely was unseen by the friends and families in the pews.

Father Jim, who at first rejected Karen’s involvement in the Church, later said that she and Ramini could attend mass and take the sacraments in spite of the Archbishop’s desires. After their freshman year, Jeremy and others in the Newman Club discussed Karen’s and Ramini’s transgendered status with Father Jim, and the priest decided to study the scriptures and Church rules himself. Partly due to his own open-minded nature, Father Jim defied any possible reprimands from the Archbishop and concluded that because Karen and Ramini had become legally recognized as females by the state and the university there was no reason for not allowing them to participate in the mass.

Karen and Ramini both stayed active in the Newman Club during their remaining years at the university, and Father Jim eventually warmed up to both girls, realizing both had a generous spirit well in tune with the teachings of his church. It wasn’t long either before Father Jim all but forgot the two had been born as boys. He felt he could not deny Karen’s desire to be married in the Church. As a compromise, however, the couple agreed not to have the marriage ceremony be celebrated within a mass.

The priest smiled broadly as he ended the ceremony with the words: “I now pronounce you man and wife and you, Mark Hamilton, may kiss the bride.”