Honey and Leonard (24 page)

Honey had decided to give the people what they wanted. With the help of Luther and a team of wedding planners, she and Leonard decided to reenact their wedding in grand style on the grounds of Manchester University. Honey wanted a church wedding, but there was no church large enough for what she had in mind. The town would not be big enough. No matter, Honey was bound and determined to have a hometown wedding.

On New Year's Day, they announced the wedding would be held June first. That gave Honey and Leonard fans plenty of time to make travel arrangements. Any hotel within 100 miles of North Manchester was completely booked by the end of March. State and local police were scheduling reinforcements and getting plenty nervous by the end of April. An invasion of food vendors and souvenir hawkers and portable toilets began in the middle of May.

When the big day finally arrived, the weather was sunny and a perfect 72 degrees with no breeze.

The news and entertainment media was everywhere, except in the sky above the ceremony. Luther Patrick had found a way to keep helicopters from hovering over the event. His high-ranking friends in the U.S. military had intervened in the name of peace and love.

A massive stage was decorated in a French theme with a fifty-foot Eiffel Tower in the middle, serving as a canopy for the exchange of vows. The sound system would have suited a major rock band on tour. Even the trees were rigged with speakers.

Pre-ceremony music included an all-star gospel choir from Detroit, a headliner jazz band from Chicago and half the philharmonic orchestra from Indianapolis. Each performance unit had a stage and sound set up. There was no break between the acts. The 45-minute wedding warm-up was a seamless presentation of musical heritage and excitement from the heartland.

The crowd was stunned by the concert. It took nearly twenty seconds after it was over for the audience to start an applause that morphed into wild cheering that lasted a good five minutes.

People had flocked to North Manchester, like it was some kind of new Mecca. Most couldn't get anywhere near the stage. All roads leading to the small city were badly congested. Busloads of people were stranded along highways. All-wheel-drive vehicles damaged fields and lawns as they created new bypasses and detours. Well-prepared wedding pilgrims parked their vehicles in nearby towns and rode bicycles into what quickly became known as "ceremony central."

"This is Woodstock for old people," an NBC reporter observed. "The town has been completely overrun by visitors for more than a week now, but amazingly, there has not been a single arrest for anything more than a parking ticket. In fact, I'm told the police stopped writing even parking tickets days ago."

An area in front of the wedding tower was cordoned off for the 750 invited guests. Honey had to turn down requests for invitations from A-list celebrities in order to preserve seats for friends and family and selected guests. Those specially selected were mainly volunteers and beneficiaries of charitable organizations.

Luther Patrick was front and center in the invited section with the woman who had obviously become much more than his date for the event, Prosecutor Karen Lindvall. They were both dressed in deep blue formal wear and she was clinging to his arm in a most un-prosecutorial manner.

"How did you keep the helicopters away?" Lindvall asked as they took their seats.

"Friends in high places," Luther said.

"High as the sky?"

"Even higher than that."

"Luther, you are the most amazing man I have ever met."

"And you are the most beautiful woman at this wedding. Don't tell Honey I said that."

Across the center aisle from Luther and Karen were Gretchen Atkins and her attorney Alice Chambers. The two arrived at the ceremony and walked down the aisle like it was their wedding. Gretchen looked happier than ever. She had lost thirty-five pounds since getting sober. She wore a long, black gown and a vintage, flapper, purple hat.

Alice wore a matching purple Fedora and a black silk pants suit. She and Gretchen were camera-ready and in a celebratory mood.

They certainly had reason to celebrate. A deal had been struck for Gretchen to drop all guardianship proceedings regarding her Uncle Leonard in exchange for his forgiveness of any debt she incurred while acting as his power of attorney. Gretchen and  Leonard started working together again. By the time of the wedding, they had nearly completed the process of repurchasing the family farm.

The prosecutor agreed to dismiss charges against Honey for violating the no-contact order. That meant Honey's legal problems were over. The attempted murder investigation into Honey allegedly poisoning Leonard had long ago become nothing but an embarrassment to local law enforcement.

Leonard signed a will. Gretchen would remain in her uncle's will as a fifty-percent beneficiary, the other fifty-percent going to Honey.

As the legal wranglings wound themselves down to satisfactory conclusions, Gretchen and Alice realized their feelings for each other had evolved into something much more privileged than the attorney-client relationship.

A small but significant part of the invited section at the wedding was a who's who of Honey and Leonard's French adventure.

A beaming Jack Crumbo showed up in a tuxedo, escorting none other than Jennifer Johnston, the flight attendant who helped Honey and Leonard get from Indianapolis to Paris. Jack and Jennifer had become friends as he interviewed her for the Honey and Leonard story. They held hands as they paused for interviews.

"What's a nice girl like you doing with a reporter from
The
 
Chicago Tribune
?" a CBS reporter joked.

"I knew he'd help me get through the traffic," she said.

"I got her a helicopter ride from the Indianapolis airport," Crumbo said. "She never would have made it otherwise."

"And look who's here," Crumbo said as Corbin Lacoste walked down the aisle with Claire Lebeau, the French policewoman. Corbin wore a less-than-formal blue suit and Claire looked smashingly stylish in a high neck, sequin dress, wrapped tightly around her attractive figure.

"We're not really together," Lebeau said. "We just thought we'd save money if we shared a hotel room."

Crumbo and Jennifer laughed.

"Actually, we've been together since Claire woke up after being drugged when Honey broke out of the Paris hospital jail. I kissed her and brought her back to life."

"You are my Prince Charming," Claire said.

The two looked like they were about to kiss until they saw an old friend walking down the aisle.

"We might have to let Father Girard share our room," Lacoste said as he saw the priest walking down the aisle.

"Father Girard,
ici
, come join us," Lacoste called out. "This is the guy who gave Honey and Leonard a new car and church clothes in Avignon," he explained to Jennifer.

The priest seemed pleased to be recognized amidst the sea of strangers.

"I've been walking for miles to get here," he said. "I had to show my invitation at least five times to get through all the security. So good to see you, Corbin."

"Do you need a place to stay?" Lacoste asked.

"Oh, no, I'm all set up at the church in Fort Wayne. It took a while for the bishops and my fellow Catholics to forgive me for giving away ceremonial, church garments, but they did forgive me because it was Honey and Leonard. Now, I'm a big celebrity because I'm invited here."

Michael Maxwell, Luther Patrick's head of security, was coordinating safety efforts from the main stage. He had become the director of the event. When the prelude music came to a flawless end, he waited for the thunderous applause to die down and then cued Leonard and his groomsmen to take their places alongside the Eiffel Tower replica. Luther Patrick and Jack Crumbo left their seats to become part of the ceremony. The crowd came to an absolute, expectant silence. It was time for the bridesmaids to make their appearance.

One by one, Honey's bridge club and charity volunteer friends and Claire Lebeau entered stage left and took their place opposite the groomsmen at the tower. Each wore a spectacular outfit, designed by the best in the fashion industry. Honey had always hated the notion of matching dresses for bridesmaids.

The philharmonic orchestra played processional music as the wedding party was assembled. Then silence. It was time for the bride to make her entrance. The crowd craned their neck to see how Honey would make her entrance. Would she appear from the side of the stage or would she walk down the long, grass aisle?

Leonard left his place on the stage and began walking up the aisle. It looked like he would be the one to escort Honey to the stage. As he was halfway up the aisle, Honey emerged from a ring of security guards and waited to greet her groom. The jazz band broke into a rousing rendition of "Here Comes the Bride."

Honey wore a sleek, white dress with a modest train. She wore no veil and had no one to tend the train. Her blonde hair shined in the sun like gold. She was beaming as bright as the glorious reflective glint of her diamond tiara.

The bride looked like she'd just been crowned Miss Universe. She looked like the Queen of Love, ruling over her subjects by unanimous proclamation.

As Leonard came closer, he could not control his pace. He began running toward his bride. Honey rushed into his arms and kissed him as the crowd broke into a victorious cheer.

A thousand cameras captured the moment. It was a shot for the ages. It was the shot heard around the world. And seen around the world. It was unrestrained and uninhibited and unabashed love.

The glow of that embrace was immediately beamed around the planet. Anyone with a television could feel the triumphant glory that one loving moment can have over all the evil in the world.

The people of the world cried mutual tears of joy. French celebrated with Germans, Serbs with Croats, Moslems with Jews, Arabs with Eskimos, teenagers with their parents, cops with criminals and even doctors with lawyers.

For years to come, poets would use every language available to celebrate the moment that changed so much for so many.

True, it was just a moment. But if one moment can do it, why can't all the rest?

Honey and Leonard promenaded down the aisle as the crowd surged to touch them as they walked by.

The actual wedding ceremony was short and sweet. There were no long vows or letters, no speeches or long-winded prayers. Once the minister said, "You may kiss the bride," the choir burst into a spirited version of "Back Home in Indiana."

As the song was concluding, Honey and Leonard walked off the back of the stage and got on top of a fire truck. The rest of the wedding party followed behind on the top of a double decker bus from England. They turned the celebration into a Mardi Gras parade.

Honey and Leonard got as many people into the act as they could. They threw commemorative beads and chocolates to the crowds. They accepted gifts until they ran out of room. The fire truck and bus had trouble inching through the throngs of well-wishers and adoring fans.

It seemed like the party would never end. Mass euphoria reigned in the streets. The parade went on until sunset, making frequent stops for interviews, refreshments and photo opportunities. Honey and Leonard never seemed to run out of energy and smiles for the crowd and cameras.

And then people started pointing at the truck. Honey and Leonard weren't there anymore. They were gone. They left without saying goodbye. They simply disappeared. They vanished into their own, private world.

It would be months before the world would find them again.