At first, Ethel Kennedy wasn’t going to accept any bad news about John, no matter what she was being told or how many times she was told it. When Ted called her at five in the morning that Saturday to inform her that John’s plane had gone missing, she said she was sure it would be found. She refused to accept any alternative. She then commenced with preparations for Rory’s wedding. She’d seen a lot of tragedy in her seventy-one years—she’d buried a son just a year and a half earlier. Not again, though, she decided, and not John. It was as if she felt that if she kept busy with wedding plans, maybe enough time would pass and John would just show up. “He always pops up at the last minute,” she said, echoing the thoughts of many others.
With the passing of more anxious hours, Ethel began to fear the worst for John. Of course, she had also grown fond of Carolyn. She often spoke of that first dinner at her home, the one for which “the newbie” seemed so ill-prepared. “Why was she on that plane?” Ethel kept asking. “I told her not to come. We talked about it. She said she wasn’t coming and I told her it was okay. I thought we agreed. So why was she even on that plane?” Very upset, she said she believed Carolyn must have had some sort of instinct about the trip, something that was warning her not to take it. “Oh, how I wish she had listened to it,” Ethel said.
When Gustavo Paredes walked into Ethel’s house without John, he was swarmed by Kennedys because they all knew he was supposed to have been on the flight with John. They figured that if he was safe, then maybe …
“Oh my God,” a tearful Provi Paredes said, rushing to her son. “I thought…”
“I’m okay, Mom,” he told her, holding her tight. He explained that he’d missed John’s flight and had found another way to get to the compound.
“But what about John?” Provi asked, her tone urgent.
“I don’t know,” Gustavo said helplessly. “I just don’t know.”
Provi then went to sit in the kitchen with Ena Bernard and her daughter, Fina, both of whom were distraught; the two had known John since the day he was born and had flown in for the wedding. “My mother tried to remain stoic,” said Fina, “as did Mrs. Kennedy. I was more emotional. It was a terrible time; we just didn’t know how it was going to turn out, but we feared the worst. I remember that the phone never stopped ringing. At one point, my mother picked it up, listened, and then slammed it back down. ‘It was a reporter who wanted to know what we ate at the rehearsal dinner,’ she said. ‘Can you believe it?’”
At midmorning, Holly Safford, the caterer hired for the wedding, called to ask Ethel if there had been any change in plans given the nature of what was being broadcast on the news. Holly had been catering Kennedy events for almost ten years, ever since Rose’s hundredth birthday back in 1990. She understood Ethel’s exacting nature. She liked to tell the story of the day she opened her mail to find a sheet of white paper upon which had been drawn a small pencil sketch of a three-dimensional square. She read the note. “Holly, this is exactly the size crouton I want in the Caesar salad. No bigger than this, please. [signed] Mrs. Kennedy.” That was Ethel’s way.
Ethel insisted to Holly that everything was still, as she put it, “a go.” Holly Safford recalled, “She told me, ‘We’re going to have a wedding today. I promise you.’ She would not give in to fear, she said, and no one else should, either. There were still calls to make, details to review. She had promised Rory it would be a special day, and she didn’t want to let her down. Rory had been on a sort of uneven emotional keel ever since Michael’s death. Eighteen months had passed, but of course she wasn’t over it. She deserved to be happy, Ethel told me, and this day had been planned with every intention of seeing her smile again.”
At about noon on Saturday, the catering trucks appeared at the compound and with them dozens of workers carrying trays of foods and placing them on long banquet tables that had been set up under large tents. “Keep that stuff covered,” Ethel ordered. “We get an awful lot of bugs around here.” She then watched as three florist trucks pulled onto the property. From them emerged six men, all in white and dressed for the occasion, each carrying large arrangements of mostly red roses. Ethel rushed over to them to tell them where to set up the flowers, “Definitely out of the sun at least until the ceremony,” she instructed, “or they won’t stand a chance.”
Ted Kennedy had been on the telephone for hours, trying to get information about John and then calling all his relatives to pass on what he knew. At one point, he decided he wanted to get out of the compound for an hour. He knew, though, that the perimeter was crawling with reporters. At that moment, he saw Provi and Ena getting into a car with Fina. “Where are you ladies headed?” he asked. They said they were going into town to pick up some things the caterers had forgotten. “Mind if I hitch a ride?” he asked. He then got into the backseat with Fina, and as the car pulled out of the compound, Ted ducked low so as not to be seen by paparazzi. “My God,” he said as the little coterie made its escape. “We Kennedys have had bad days, but I dare say this could be the worst day of our lives. I’m not sure how we’ll be able to handle it if John is gone. I actually don’t think we could do it.” He asked Ena to please be available to Ethel if necessary. “I think she’s going to need you,” he told her. He suggested she stay in town a little longer than she’d originally intended. Of course, Ena said she would do just that; “anything for Mrs. Kennedy.”
Meanwhile, out on the veranda of her home, Ethel sat in a rocking chair talking to Sister Pauline Joseph. “She seemed older to me than ever,” said the nun. “I wondered if maybe this was one tragedy too many for her. We noticed Rory and Mark walking on the beach, arm in arm, seeming so sad. They were both thirty, their lives together just beginning, but on such a dreadful note. Above them was a helicopter, I assumed from the media, probably photographing them. ‘Not one second of peace, I guess,’ Mrs. Kennedy said, finally looking at me. ‘Do you think I should go out there, or should I just leave them be?’ she asked. ‘Go,’ I told her. ‘They need you, Mrs. Kennedy.’ She nodded, rose, and then began walking slowly down the pathway toward the beach. I noticed she was limping. I hadn’t noticed it earlier and wondered about it.”
Ted returned to the compound at about this same time. As he settled in at his home, he relayed to family members the story of his brief escape with the help of Provi, Ena, and Fina. “They know so much more about our pain than we do about theirs,” he said of them. “I’ve always marveled at their allegiance to us.” Moments later, the phone rang; it was the Coast Guard.
After talking to Rory and Mark, Ethel made her way back to the porch of her clapboard home. As she gazed out at the ice-blue cold sea, she noticed Ted walking across the expansive green lawn between their two homes. His head was bowed, his shoulders slumped forward. Ethel didn’t make a move. Rather, she just stood as if frozen in place as she watched the senator with apprehension. As he got closer, she noticed Ted’s face lined with worry, his expression grave. Once he reached her, she listened as he said a few words. Then, as others looked on with heavy hearts—some of her children and grandchildren, members of her staff, as well as strangers who’d come to prepare for the festivities—Ethel Kennedy buried her face in both her hands. She then collapsed into Ted’s arms.