Reluctant Witness (52 page)

“What can I say? I’m a sucker for a happy
love story. Once in a while, the good guys have to win.”

After we dispatched with the formalities, I
excused myself for the evening, leaving the lovebirds to sort out
their relationship. They were so successful at hashing out their
differences that Nancy called me the following day.

“Nice work, genius. I just got an invitation
to the wedding. Now we’ll have to find you a new babysitter.”

“Oh, it was worth it,” I laughed, feeling a
little of the old vicarious thrill that someone was finally
enjoying life. “I like the guy.”

“I do too. And we already have something in
the works for you, but we’re still a couple of weeks away from
making it happen. Think you can handle the wait?”

“I can. In the meantime, I’m coordinating
Clovis and David’s wedding.”

“Don’t get your heart set on sticking around
for the big day,” she warned me. “We might have to pull you out
sooner, rather than later.”

“Not to worry. I’ve been lining up their
ducks in a nice, neat row. The wedding’s in the backyard, forty
guests. They’ve picked the officiant and a rental company. Her
assistant will take over for me if I have to cut out; I’ll make
sure the plan is ready to go. It’s manageable.”

“The wedding is a great excuse for me to fly
out there for a visit to check on you. I can kill two birds with
one stone. Clovis asked me to fill in for her mom and help her pick
out a dress. Let me book a flight right now,” she said, hanging up.
“See you Friday.”

I came up with a bridal checklist of tasks in
their chronological order. The first item was the dress. I sat down
with Clovis the next day and we wrote a list of her “must haves”
for the gown. She wanted one that was comfortable, classic, and
uncomplicated.

“No lace, no frilly stuff, and no princess
nonsense. I don’t want to look like the Bride of Frankenstein,” she
warned me. “I don’t want a train or a poufy veil. Think Grace Kelly
glamorous.”

“Right,” I smiled, observing the woman
sitting next to me on the sofa in her pink sweats. “No organdy. No
tulle. Maybe something sensible, like cotton knit. You know,
Clovis, we could get you a pair of sweats in white and have ‘bride’
stenciled on the front. Or should it go on the back?”

“Oh, shut up!” she instructed me, emphasizing
the point by throwing a sofa pillow in my direction. Beatrice
flopped on it as it landed on the floor. “Although, that would be
kind of funny for the rehearsal, wouldn’t it?”

Once we established her preferred dress
style, I pulled out several issues of Bride and Modern Bride and
asked her to choose her favorite gowns.

“Wow, are you always this organized when you
plan a wedding? It never occurred to me to hunt down the
dress.”

“Weddings are just like everything else in
life,” I told her. “You have to know what you’re looking for, so
you can figure out where to go to get what you need. You don’t want
to exhaust yourself trying on the wrong dresses at the wrong store
and have a meltdown when you reach your emotional limit. When you
finally step into that shop this weekend, you should be focused on
what will and won’t make you happy.”

“Funny. I never thought of dress shopping
that way. Every time I go out, I just figure I’ll stumble on what I
want eventually.”

“And do you?”

“Once in a while,” she smiled. “Most of the
time, I hate the whole process.”

“Well, that’s why we’re doing it this way.
We’ll make appointments at the two shops that seems to be the most
promising.”

“Boy, you’re worth your weight in gold,”
Clovis grinned. “How can I ever thank you?”

“You might want to hold that thought,” I
replied. “We also have to find you some great shoes.”

“Please tell me I don’t have to buy white
shoes. They always look like clodhoppers to me. Or nurse’s
shoes.”

“These days, you have lots of options,
especially since this is a backyard wedding, and therefore is
considered casual. How do you feel about wearing a strappy sandal
with a low heel?”

“Now that I can see,” she admitted, grabbing
one of the bridal magazines from the coffee table. “In fact, I saw
a pair in here that I liked.”

The following day, I checked the manufacturer
information, tracked down shops in the area that sold the gowns,
and set up our appointments. Once that was out of the way, I
checked on the shoes. By noon, I had mapped our route for the
shopping excursion and was ready to move on to the business of
finding a local baker for the wedding cake. I checked several
websites for prices, reviews, and photographs before selecting the
one that seemed to fit Clovis and David’s style. The following day,
I sent them off to the selected baker to sample the options.

“Don’t you want to come with us?” David
asked.

“No, this is something you two need to do as
a couple,” I insisted, herding them towards the front door. “I gave
Mariah the guest count, so she knows the size of the cake we need.
She’ll have you taste a few cake choices and go over icing and
filling options. Have fun with it. By the way, I also booked you a
table at La Vie en Rose at seven for dinner. If you like the food,
I thought we might hire them to cater the reception.”

“Excellent choice,” David nodded.

“What a wonderful idea,” said the bride. “I
love that place!”

“I know,” I smiled. “You told me it was your
favorite restaurant. They have a good reputation as caterers, so it
seemed like a no-brainer to me.”

“This is going to be great, just great!
Remember the first time we ate there?” David asked her, as they
headed out the door. “It was after we went to the pick-up softball
game in the park.”

Chapter Forty
Six

Gazing out the front window, I watched them
walk down the sidewalk to David’s car, deep in conversation. They
were comfortable together, their trust in each other obvious. For a
brief moment, I felt a touch of sadness. Clovis and David had, in a
short time, become more than just casual friends. Their wedding was
coming up fast, and I knew once it was over, I would hit the road
again. The goodbyes were becoming harder to say. I would restart my
life somewhere else and try to come to terms with my loss, but this
time I would feel it more. Clovis and David had done the
unthinkable. They had given me the chance to be useful again, to
find some measure of success by guiding them through the wedding
process. They would remember the laughter and the joy of this happy
occasion for years to come. So would I. That joy of theirs was
contagious; it was the perfume of hope and promise, the self-made
magic of lovers who believe the world is their oyster.

The last couple of weeks had renewed my
spirit as I holed up in Clovis’s charming bungalow. I had seen her
come to terms with her fears about making a commitment to David,
confronting her choices as she negotiated that mine field so many
women face -- what do we choose for ourselves and how do we know we
can live with the choices down the road, without regrets?

Like a tiny bird constantly hiding from
predators, I had spent years living with one foot out the door,
prepared to take flight at the slightest sign of trouble. Now I
could see myself putting down roots, not just because I needed to
be with people, but because people really did need me, too. Maybe,
without realizing it, I had grown wiser. I understood now that love
matters; it is our strength when we remember its importance and our
weakness when we forget.

Was it because I had developed a real bond
with my unofficial protectors? Nancy had taken me under her wing
and urged me to get involved, to make new connections. Terry and
Tom had pushed me to be stronger and smarter, believing in me when
others doubted. Rocky had been my Gibraltar, pushing me to
recognize the reality of the situation with Jared so that I might
understand the truth. But Jefferson Cornwall was my catalyst. With
true love comes great responsibility. We no longer survive for
ourselves alone when we know there is someone who believes in us,
who relies on us to do what is right, what is fair. Maybe I didn’t
need the certainty of knowing what I would face in the future as
much as I needed to know I wasn’t facing it alone. Jeff would be
there. Suddenly, unexpectedly, that was enough.

I let my mind wander back to Jared. Despite
the diamond ring he placed on my finger, he and I had never really
planned our special day. Was there some part of me that never
really trusted our relationship enough to imagine taking those
vows? It was as if the moment I said yes, Jared got started
planning his exit. He had plotted the murder of his doppelganger
and the campaign of terror for me. Now that he and his long-time
girlfriend were in WitSec, they were planning their own wedding.
How long would that last? As someone experienced in living a secret
life, I doubted Jared could do it unscathed. He was too selfish,
too greedy. He would survive, but what about the people around him?
He would sacrifice them to save himself.

We picked Nancy up at the airport just after
three on the following Friday. Clovis hopped out of the car the
moment she pulled up to the curb.

“I’m so happy to see you. Guess what we’re
doing this weekend.” She enfolded Nancy in an enthusiastic bear
hug, her excitement palpable.

“Going to Disneyland, Clovy?”

“Heck, no. We’re shopping for my dress. I
can’t believe I’m doing this. I’m really getting married, Nance!”
Clovis crowed gleefully. “Me!”

“How’s your mama holding up?” Nancy wanted to
know. “I can’t wait to see her again.”

Clovis drew a deep breath and let it out
slowly. “The cancer is back. She’s having a new treatment, but it’s
knocking the crap out of her with all the side effects. She’s
gotten so frail in the last couple of months. I worry about
her.”

“Oh?” Nancy seemed surprised. I was too. It
was the first time I heard Clovis talk about her mother’s illness.
I knew Julie was planning to be there for the wedding, but up until
this moment, I had just assumed she lived too far away to come for
a pre-wedding trip. Maybe that’s why David was pushing for a
wedding sooner, rather than later. Maybe he knew Clovis was afraid
to confront the reality of her mother’s situation. “That’s
tough.”

“It is. It’s so up-and-down. We never really
know how it’s going for her.”

“All the more reason to enjoy the wedding,”
her mentor replied.

“You think so?” Clovis didn’t sound
convinced.

“I know so,” said the older woman.

When we got back to Glendale, it was time to
relax. We spent the evening in the backyard, kicking back over corn
on the cob, potato salad, cold beer, and David’s barbecued ribs.
Under the stars, we swapped stories about our adventures with
Nancy. I told them about the appointment with Dr. Magrib and my
fake mother. Clovis told us about the time she and Nancy did a
stint as fake rangers when they were trying to apprehend a
kidnapper holed up in a national park with his victim.

“Louisa had been snatched from her home three
weeks earlier, so by the time we got to her, the poor kid thought
she was a goner,” Clovis remarked. “We had the element of surprise.
He never expected that two female park rangers and eight other
women on mules were actually all gun-toting law enforcement agents
coming to take him in.”

“The look on the bastard’s face was worth
it,” Nancy added. “We were his worst nightmare.”

“Especially when one of them was singing at
the top of her lungs,” Clovis laughed, pointing at Nancy. “What was
that song again?”

“Ah, yes,” Nancy laughed.
“
You Can’t Get a Man with a
Gun
. And in case any of you are wondering,
you actually can.”

“From
Annie Get Your Gun
?” David asked.
“Brilliant!”

“It was,” Nancy agreed. “I love
Broadway.”

The only thing missing from the party for me
was Jeff. I muddled through, working hard at keeping my party face
in place, but I was all too aware of his absence. I called him just
before I went to bed. We exchanged details of our day, keeping it
light right up until it was time to say good night.

“I miss you,” I confessed, just before
hanging up. “I wish you were here.”

“You know what? I wish I was, too.” There was
a long pause on the other end. “Soon, Marigold, soon.”

“I hope so.”

“Believe.”

Saturday morning got off to a rocky start.
The bridal consultant greeted us at the door of the first shop and
hustled us over to a small lounge, where we sat in club chairs and
waited for her to bring out the requested dresses. Clovis was
nervous, and as she rejected dress after dress, she began to doubt
herself. Her optimism vaporized after the fourth dress. That wasn’t
a positive sign we would find success right around the corner.

“This isn’t working,” she grumbled, tugging
at the bodice of a taffeta number that lacked any semblance of
grace. “Nothing feels right.”

“It has to be fitted,” the consultant tried
to explain. “Our seamstress will pin it for you.”

“No, forget it.” Clovis was impatiently
trying to reach the zipper. “It’s a waste of my time.”

I looked down at my watch. We had been at it
for more than an hour and the prospective bride had yet to smile at
her own reflection as she gazed into the wall of mirrors.

“Let’s call it a morning,” I suggested, even
as the consultant pressed yet another dress on the disgruntled
bride.

“Maybe if I knew what you didn’t like about
this one,” she said to Clovis, “I could better narrow down the
choices.”

“Thanks, but I think the bride needs to take
a break from dress shopping,” I told her.

“I do,” said the exasperated woman in white.
“Somebody help me get out of this thing.”