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By Betsy Parker
Times-Democrat Staff Writer
Standing on the bobbing bow of the channel ferry, warm Caribbean breeze whipping the nautical flags, the verdant mountains of St. John rose from the turquoise sea ahead. Before me was a narrow passage between tiny undeveloped cays, wide enough for the “Island Drifter” toc pass. Looming on the horizon was the wide, sand-circled Cruz Bay welcoming us to the volcanic lump of real estate that is the jewel of the U.S. Virgin Islands — St. John.
It was difficult to keep my emotions in check, for this was a sight I’d dreamed of glimpsing ever since, as a small girl, I’d seen a Jacques Cousteau special on this gentle tropical paradise and the life contained under its waters.
The dream became a reality last fall when planning my wedding — second for me, first for Harold, my intended. A confirmed bachelor until the late date of age 40, Harold required that any wedding for him must be above all simple and besides that special. Easy to accomplish, I figured: I’d done the white wedding thing once already, and having been there, done that, I was eager to go a different route. Narrowing down the field
When we at last agreed on a time frame last fall — to be married in a pri
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