Bad Penny (14 page)

John put his arm around her and gave her a quick hug. “Oh, yes we are, woman. So stop fussing.”

“Until there’s a ring on my finger, there’s nothing official,” she muttered. Wilson knew when to change the subject, and he knew how to do it. “Is there anything crucial pending this afternoon?” “No,” John said.

“Just paperwork,” LaQueen answered. “Why?” “We need a couple of witnesses.”

“To what?” John asked.

“To our wedding,” Cat said.

LaQueen’s mouth dropped, and then she squealed again.

“You’re getting married! Oh lordy! I am so happy for the both of you. Wait! You need—”

Wilson held up his hand. “I know what’s needed. I’ve been on the phone for the past three days calling in every favor owed. It’s okay. Trust me.”

John shook his hand and then clapped him on the shoulder. “We would be honored,” he said, then added, “You do know that you’ve gone and set the bar pretty high for me, here. I’ll never hear the end of it now.”

LaQueen held up her hand to stop the conversation.

“I don’t know about the rest of you, but Cat and I are going shopping.” Cat’s mouth dropped, but it was Wilson who asked, “For what?”

LaQueen drew herself up to her near-six-foot height and got that stubborn look that always made Wilson nervous.

“For a wedding dress, mister. That’s what for. What time you gonna be at the judge’s chambers?”

Wilson looked a little nervous. “I told him we’d be there by four.”

LaQueen glanced at the clock. “Fine. That leaves us about three hours. We’ll see you there.” Then she pointed at John.

“Make sure he wears something besides a pair of jeans and that darned black leather jacket, will you?”

“I have suits,” Wilson muttered.

Cat grinned. She’d never seen Wilson cowed. She thought it was funny, and then her smile faded.

“Now that I think about it, I don’t have any dresses.” LaQueen’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Not even one?”

Cat shrugged. “Where would I have worn it? Kind of hard to run down a perp in high heels.”

LaQueen was shaking her head and muttering to herself as she took her purse from the desk drawer.

“Good thing we’re going shopping, then.” She turned to the two men. “We’ll see you at the courthouse. Cat, you’re coming with me.”

Cat shrugged, then waved at Wilson. “See you later.” He frowned. “This isn’t going exactly like I’d planned.”

“Then you shouldn’t have included me in your ceremony, because I’m not having this pretty woman married in blue jeans, and that’s a fact,” LaQueen said.

The door slammed shut behind them. Eight

Cat and LaQueen were in a small room off the judge’s chambers, waiting for court to end so he could perform the wedding.

But the past three hours had not been wasted. Once they’d left Wilson’s office, LaQueen had made one call to John, warned him to get Wilson to the courthouse on time and not to expect to see Cat again before the ceremony, and then they’d headed for the Galleria.

The Galleria was a huge, multi-storied mall that Cat generally tried not to frequent, but this time it felt different. Once they’d gotten into the

rhythm of the place, she’d alternated between feeling silly and having a growing sense of excitement as she’d tried on dress after dress. She’d never had much use for them, so she was surprised by how feminine she felt every time she put one on.

The one she finally settled on wasn’t traditional, but then neither was she. It was, however, definitely in keeping with the pink butterfly tattoo on her hip. The dress was a pale rose-colored fabric, mid-calf length, with a plunging neckline bordered with a soft flounce of the same fabric. It didn’t hide her fading bruises, but it made her feel pretty. The silver high-heeled sandals she picked out added almost three inches to her height, but that wouldn’t matter. Wilson would still tower over her.

Once the shopping was behind them, LaQueen swept Cat off to a beauty shop and coerced one of the stylists into taking her on the spot. Under LaQueen’s guidance, the stylist turned Cat’s no-nonsense hair into a sexy do to suit the pink dress. She gathered the long dark strands at the crown of Cat’s head, curled the loose ends, then let them fall in loose abandon.

“I look like I stuck my finger in a light socket,” Cat muttered. “You look amazing,” LaQueen countered.

She looked and felt like a stranger, Cat thought, but in a way, it seemed fitting. The old Cat Dupree would never have stood for any of this, but that Cat was gone. This Cat was a woman who had learned how to trust and how to love, and she was marrying the man who’d taught her.

Now here she was, waiting for a judge to change the rest of her life—and so sorry Marsha wasn’t here to stand beside her. But as saddened as she was by the loss of her best friend, she was ready to move on.

Before sunset today, she would no longer be Catherine Dupree. Tomorrow morning she would wake up and for the rest of her life be known as Catherine McKay. It wasn’t the loss of her last name that was sad as much as the fact that her father’s bloodline ended with her. Yes, her children would share his DNA, but there would never be another of her people with the same last name.

As a child, her father had told her how special she was—that she was the first daughter to ever be born to a Dupree. He’d told her often how Antoine Dupree had been the first of her ancestors to set foot in this land. That he’d come from France to the New World during the early seventeen hundreds, landing in the area now known as New Orleans.

From there, he’d told her, Antoine’s heirs had ridden west into territory known only as part of the Louisiana Purchase. One had fought in the Revolutionary War, and later, two others had fought on opposite sides in the War Between the States.

He’d had one great-great-great-grandson who’d fought in the Great War, the war that was supposed to have been the last—World War I—and he’d had a grandson who had flown Spitfires during World War II.

Three of his sons went to Vietnam, too young to be parents, but not too young to die. Only one of the three had come home—whole in body, but not in mind. He’d fathered just one son before he’d hanged himself from the rafters in his garage with a length of clothesline. That son was Justin Dupree, Cat’s father, whose untimely death ended what had been a remarkable—and long—line of courageous, adventurous men.

In the entire line—from Antoine to Justin—Cat was the only female to have been born a Dupree. It explained her valiance, as well as her sense

of duty and determination, but it didn’t change the truth. Antoine had been the alpha. Cat was the omega.

But while Cat was giving up a name today, she was also gaining something she thought she’d lost forever: a family. Marrying Wilson and belonging to that wonderful, noisy clan of McKays was, for Cat, life altering. Knowing the child she carried would become one of them and be loved without question meant everything to her.

While waiting for the tardy judge, she glanced out the window, and as she did, she saw her reflection. For a moment it was like looking at a stranger; then she recognized herself and smoothed her hand down the front of her dress, lingering a little longer on her belly.

I know you’re in there, my baby. I promise, if I never do another thing in my life, I will keep you safe.

LaQueen touched her shoulder. “Honey, you have a visitor.”

Cat frowned. “But you said Wilson wasn’t allowed—”

“It’s not Wilson. Someone has to give you away. I figured Art Ball would stand up for you just fine.”

Cat felt as if she’d been sucker punched. Her eyes widened as she looked toward the old man standing in the doorway. He was wearing a grin and a royal-blue polyester suit straight out of the seventies. His sparse gray

hair was slicked back from his face with hair oil as old-fashioned as the suit.

“Hey, missy. You didn’t think you were gonna sneak out and do this without me, did you?”

Cat was too moved to speak. She just shook her head and walked into his arms.

A little embarrassed by her show of affection, he patted her awkwardly on the back, then handed her a handkerchief.

“Wipe your eyes and blow your nose. If Wilson McKay sees you with me and you look like you’ve been crying, he’s likely to whip my ass before he finds out why.”

Cat laughed through tears as she did what he said.

“Thank you for doing this…and if you don’t mind, this will be my something borrowed.”

“Absolutely,” Art said, as she tucked the handkerchief into her bra. “You got the rest of that hoopla?” Art asked.

“She sure does,” LaQueen said with a smile. “The something old is that necklace with the little cat charm. Said her father gave it to her years ago. Something new is her dress and shoes. You gave her something borrowed, and I gave her something blue.”

“What’s that?” Art asked.

“Undies.”

Art blushed. “Oh…well…I didn’t mean to…”

Cat laughed. “I know exactly how you feel. This is all weird for me, too.” “It don’t matter,” Art said. “You look real pretty.”

Cat laid a hand on his forearm. “And you look very handsome.” Art preened. “I cut a fine figure in this suit in my day.”

“You still do,” Cat said. “And I will be forever grateful that you wanted to do this for me.”

“Can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be right now,” he said. There was a knock at the door. LaQueen answered it, then came back.

“That was John. He said the judge is in his chambers now. It’s time to get this party started.” She looked at Cat. “Are you ready?”

A calm washed over Cat. Was she ready? She’d been waiting for this day her whole life. She just hadn’t known it.

“Yes.”

“Then off we go. Art, you’re escorting the bride.” “What are you doing?” Art asked.

LaQueen grinned. “Running the show.”

Wilson was in over his head. What had started out being a simple trip to the courthouse to get married was turning into a three-ring circus with LaQueen as the ring-mistress. She’d sent John home with him to wait while he dressed. Then John had asked him twice on the way to the jewelry store if he knew Cat’s ring size.

“I will know it when I see it” had been Wilson’s answer both times.

He knew everything that mattered about the woman who held his heart. Whatever else there was to learn would come through the years.

And now he stood beside the judge’s desk, waiting for Cat to come through the door. He thought he was ready, but then the door opened. Not once in the time he’d known her had he ever seen her in a dress. He exhaled as if he’d been punched in the gut.

She was stunning.

The moment Cat stepped into the room, she looked for him. When their gazes met, he saw her blink back tears and lift that stubborn, beautiful chin, and he thought he might die from the joy of this moment as she moved to stand beside him.

“Are we all here?” the judge asked. “We are, your honor,” LaQueen stated. “Then we begin,” he said.

In the back of his mind, Wilson could hear the judge speaking, then Art stating he was standing in for her father. But it was the look on Cat’s face and the fierce grip she had on his fingers that told him she was as moved as he was by what was happening.

Sometime during the service, he thought he heard Cat say “I do,” but his heart was hammering so loudly, he might have imagined it. When John Tiger elbowed him, he jumped, confused as to what he’d missed.

The judge repeated the question.

“Do you, Wilson, take Catherine to be your lawfully wedded wife? And do you promise to love her and honor her, in sickness and in health and forsaking all others…until death do you part?”

“Yes.”

“Please place the ring on her finger.”

He felt Cat shiver as he took her hand, then slid the ring down the length of her finger.

The judge was still talking, but Wilson didn’t focus in on it until he heard him say, “Wilson and Catherine, it is my honor to pronounce you husband and wife. What God has brought together, let no man put asunder. Wilson, I suggest you seal the deal and kiss your bride.”

Cat’s lips were trembling. Wilson was shaking all the way to the bone. Then their lips met and the world settled.

Someone was taking pictures, because Cat heard the clicks and saw the flashes from the corner of her eye. She suspected LaQueen, but before she could confirm her suspicions, Wilson wrapped his arms around her and very softly whispered close to her ear, so that only she could hear, “You will never be alone on this earth again.”

Cat swallowed back tears as she looked up into his face. Leave it to Wilson to know and assuage her greatest fear.

Then everyone started talking.

Art and John congratulated Wilson and kissed Cat. LaQueen continued to snap pictures. She didn’t quit until the camera did.

By the time it was over, Cat was thoroughly rattled by the rush of emotions. When Wilson took her by the hand and started toward the elevator, she was grateful.

“Art, thank you for coming, and LaQueen and John, thank you for being our witnesses,” Cat said, as they all piled into the elevator.