In my mind, I’d already moved on. Besides, I had a big party to throw in just nine days.
JOHN HAD LOST 25 pounds; he had a huge S-shaped scar snaking down his abdomen. The acute similarity to what I’d gone through with Jay—the terror, the waiting, the praying—almost did me in. But there was one big difference: With Jay, it ended in a funeral. With John, a wedding.
While he was sick, the thought of canceling the whole thing was never far from our minds. John had even asked Dr. Allen if he thought it was okay for us to get married—the last thing he wanted was to make me a widow a second time. Dr. Allen gave him the green light.
In other words, the show would go on—even if Katie would not.
84
I Will
I ASKED A FANCY-PANTS designer to create a fun wedding dress, shorter in front and longer in back （knowing the legs are the last thing to go）。 But when I checked myself out during a fitting, I looked like a leftover piece of meringue, which wasn’t what I was going for. An expensive mistake.
Less than a week before the wedding, my friend the designer Carmen Marc Valvo dropped off a white, sequined, floor-length number with a bit of a train; it had a halter-type bodice that showed off my shoulders, toned from doing gymnastics in my youth—thank God for muscle memory. Chic, simple, pretty. Perfect.
June 21st—the summer solstice, the longest day of the year （John figured there had to be some significance to that）。 I woke up, jumped in the Thunderbird, turned the radio on full blast, and sang along with the American Authors, This is gonna be the best day of my life…I felt like I was driving on air.
Later, we had a casual lunch in the backyard where John’s mother, Paula, met my mom for the first time. I had grown to love my soon-to-be mother-in-law so much, but my mom was my mom, and I was eager to share her. When I saw them sitting close, chatting over tea sandwiches and chilled pea soup, it filled my heart with joy.
The ceremony was at 6:00 p.m. Rows of white chairs had been set up in front of the pool and a white runner laid out on the lawn so I wouldn’t aerate the grass with my heels. A trio of guitar, violin, and cello played some of our favorites: lots of Beatles—“In My Life,” “Blackbird,” “Here, There and Everywhere”—interspersed with Bach, Handel, and Vivaldi. Our guests milled about, drinking champagne and admiring the garden, which was exploding with color and beauty and life （special shout-out to the dahlias）。
When I came downstairs, John was there to greet me. He looked so dashing in his navy Zegna suit—no longer gaunt, just trim and handsome. He whispered in my ear, “I’m the luckiest guy on Amy’s Lane.”
I melted. Then he added, “Well, this side of Amy’s Lane.” And I burst out laughing.
“Okay,” I told him. “Let’s do this thing.”
We walked out together, holding hands. As a 57-year-old bride, I was a little self-conscious, but when I saw all our friends beaming at us, I just went with it. We strolled toward John Ellis, a friend of John’s and a cousin of George W. Bush, who’d gotten credentialed online as a Universal Life Church minister for the occasion. Imposing and patrician, he would make a great Reverend Hale in a summer-stock production of The Crucible. As we reached the brickwork surrounding the pool, I heard the crunch of sequins under the heels of my strappy silver sandals.
John and I had written our own vows and wanted them to be funny and sincere. Here’s one of mine:
“I promise not to stay mad at you for more than 72 hours in the event you do something colossally stupid—such as take my car key with you 140 miles from our home on the Monday of Memorial Day weekend, while I have teenage girls and a flight in four hours to the West Coast for a BIG interview the next morning.”
Yes, that happened.
For his part, John said, “I promise to remember to hold the camera at ‘eye level’ （not lower） when taking photos of you and your fans.”
He was learning!
Carrie sang the Beatles song “I Will.” What a blessing, I thought, remembering that upsetting afternoon nine months before when the girls had burst into tears. Time heals—they were totally on board now.
After John Ellis pronounced us husband and wife, we walked back down the aisle to the musicians’ rendition of Pharrell’s “Happy” （hey, it was 2014! And we were happy!）。 As we passed my mom, John reached down and squeezed her hand. She smiled approvingly. For me, it was one of the most beautiful moments of the whole ceremony.
Afterward, I learned that Matt Lauer and Howard Stern had cooked up a plan to crash the wedding—apparently, they were going to submerge themselves in the pool in scuba gear and pop up at some point. Luckily, they’d shared their plan with TODAY EP Don Nash, who told them, “That’s a terrible idea.”