An Innkeeper’s Journal

A Wedding at the Inn

By far the trickiest marriage proposal at the Hummingbird involved a wedding on the same day. Again, Pam took the call, this one from a Marine Lieutenant named Joseph who wanted to get married to his sweetheart, Kristen, another Marine Lieutenant. They’d spent a weekend at the inn previously, so when Joseph called that Monday, Pam remembered him and his girlfriend as a nice young couple we’d enjoyed meeting and talking to. Joseph’s question that morning was, “Can we get married there this coming weekend?” Somewhat taken aback by the last-minute nature of the request, Pam assured him we could work it out. Then came the bigger shock,

       “It’s a surprise for Kristen,” he said. “I’m not going to tell her ahead of time. I’ll call you back later today to make sure you’ve been able to arrange everything.”

       Though she had to scramble a bit to do it, Pam was able to line up the Baptist minister for 1:00 on Saturday and schedule the massage therapist Joseph wanted here later Saturday afternoon to give them both massages. He wanted dinner both Friday and Saturday evenings, together with all the little extras we provide for elopement ceremonies, like a wedding cake and a bridal bouquet. When he called back, Pam assured him we were all set. After thinking about it, though, she decided to offer him a piece of womanly advic

     “Are you sure Kristen is going to be happy with this surprise? Most women want to plan their wedding, or at least choose what dress they’ll wear.”

Joseph’s confidence, however, was unshakable and he wouldn’t budge. He wanted to surprise her, and that was that; he was certain, he said, all would be well. “When I propose to her just before the wedding,” he told Pam, “everything will be fine.”

        “You haven’t even asked her to marry you yet?” Pam asked. “Joseph, what are you thinking?”

No, he said, he was saving the proposal for their arrival at the inn on Friday. But it would be alright. They’d spoken about getting married, he told Pam, and Kristen knew it had to be soon if they stood any chance of being deployed together. He’d tell her they were going to visit his folks in North Carolina, and have her bring a nice dress in case mom and dad took them out to dinner. “It will work,” he said. “You’ll see.”

       We hoped so, too, but it seemed a rather hastily made plan. Pam and I couldn’t help worrying that this young man was setting himself up for a huge disappointment. “A nice dress” might not be exactly what a young woman had planned for her bridal gown, and surprising her with an engagement (which she might turn down) and a wedding on the same weekend seemed a recipe for disaster.

       The next day Joseph called to say plans had changed. The snowy weather had forced Kristen’s commanding officer to delay some field maneuvers and his troops would now be out in the field on Saturday. Pam cancelled the minister and the massage. Then Wednesday brought another call from Joseph. The wedding was back on – the commander had decided they’d finish the maneuvers another time. Kristen was free to leave on Friday morning. Pam called the minister and the massage therapist again.      

     During one of the subsequent calls (there were a number of them and we were beginning to feel like co-conspirators), Pam realized the two of them needed a marriage license, which would have to be picked up on Friday from a Virginia courthouse before they got to the inn. She advised Joseph to get the license with Kristen (both would need to be present) before leaving northern Virginia or to get it in Lexington nearer the Hummingbird.

“But I can’t do that!” Joseph said. “Then she’d know about the wedding and it wouldn’t be a surprise!”

Pam told him there was no choice; he had to tell her sometime before 1 p.m. on Saturday, and it would have to be before the courthouse closed on Friday afternoon. “No license, no marriage, that’s the law,” she said.

      “Well, then, we won’t get married this weekend,” he responded. “I want everything to be perfect.” (It was a refrain he used a lot.) Pam told him she’d see what she could do.

       It turned out the Clerk of Courts of Rockbridge County was very understanding. When I called him to see if he could help us out, he said that since he’d be out our way Saturday morning hunting with some of his friends, he’d stop by the inn and issue our couple a marriage license around 9:30. All we needed to do was get him a typewriter to feed the official document through when he typed in their names.

A typewriter? Who has a typewriter in this age of computers? That’s when the Goshen Town Clerk came through for us, with an old typewriter she’d stored in the recesses of the Town Office. So far, so good. Every hurdle had been jumped and we’d enlisted a few more co-conspirators. Now we just hoped the bride would agree to marry her prince.

       The two of them arrived on Friday, both smiling. He’d turned off the highway on their way south, heading toward Goshen, and she had excitedly realized he was taking her, not for a visit with his parents, but for another romantic weekend stay at the Hummingbird. Little did she know. They had dinner in the dining room that night, and we sneaked a bottle of champagne into their room (at Joseph’s request) while they were eating. His plan, apparently, was to propose after dinner. We thought he was cutting it rather finely, but he seemed so at ease with his romantic machinations that all we could do was secretly cheer him on.

       Then came a set back—or so we thought. Around 10:30 when I was making my nightly rounds turning down thermostats and locking doors, I overheard what I was certain was crying coming from their room. Crestfallen, I quickly retreated from the hallway and went down to the office to report to Pam that we (and Joseph) had a problem. We slumped off to bed that night in dismay, afraid our couple’s romantic weekend had fallen apart. “My God, what will it be like tomorrow at breakfast?” we wondered. This was proving to be nearly as hard on us as it must be on him.

       The next morning, however, when Joseph came down to get early coffee, he assured us all had gone well and they were engaged. We were relieved, but in the next moment he threw us back once more, for though he’d proposed and she’d accepted—complete with tears of happiness—he still hadn’t told her today was their wedding day.

       “Joseph, you have to tell her!” Pam said. “The Clerk of Courts will be showing up after breakfast to issue the license!”

He thought about that for a moment, agreed the time had come, and trooped upstairs with an extra cup of coffee for her. A little later, when they both came down for breakfast, she was flashing an engagement ring and was radiant with smiles, explaining to the other guests that they were getting married that day, and that when Joseph had given her the ring the night before, she’d screeched with joy and started to cry.

The remainder of the day was wonderful - and a good deal more relaxed for Pam and me. The clerk showed up in hunting clothes and while his buddies waited outside in the car, issued Joseph and Kristen a license; they had an intimate little ceremony in our living room, with Pam acting as photographer; the minister blessed their union; we watched them cut their cake; and we toasted the new couple. Joseph wore his Marine dress uniform, Kristen her “going-out-to-dinner” dress and heels, and neither of them could stop smiling. They called all their relatives to share the happy news, and we breathed a sigh of relief that he’d pulled it off.