Thugs and Kisses (29 page)

My leg itched like hell. I slipped a letter opener I’d found on the desk between the cast and my skin and tried my best to worm it down far enough to reach the itch that was becoming as annoying as a colony of fire ants.

“Stop that,” Zee ordered. “You can get an infection that way.” She snatched the letter opener from my hands and stuck it in a desk drawer.

I was staying with the Washingtons in their downstairs guestroom/office. They had moved out the sofa bed that usually occupied the room and replaced it temporarily with a rented hospital bed. Not that I needed a hospital bed, but it did make it easier for me to maneuver and get comfortable with my heavy cast. I had also rented a wheelchair. It was a nice respite from trying to work with the crutches all the time. But the wheelchair would soon be history. How Greg manages to use one of these day in and day out and do all the incredible things he does, including sports, is even more amazing to me now. For the past three weeks, I’ve seen life from his level, and it has been an eye opener, believe me.

Seamus, ensconced on a cushion on the desk chair, meowed softly. In spite of his allergies, Seth had allowed Seamus to also move in temporarily. In fact, he had even suggested it. Zee, suffering from near-empty nest syndrome, was spoiling the surly cat more than I ever dreamed of doing or thought possible. It worried me a bit that when it was time to go, Seamus would not want to budge.

Thrilled that I had found Steele, solved the mystery of the altered documents, and managed to save Silhouette from jumping to Goldberg-Rawlings, the firm had given me four weeks off with pay. But even with their generosity, I was antsy to return to work and resume my normal life, or rather, new life. Tonight I was moving in with Greg—lock, stock, cat, and temporary wheelchair. When I did go back to work, I would be commuting from Seal Beach. It was a much longer commute but worth it. As soon as I was able, I would pack up my townhouse and rent it out.

Johnette Morales is in a private residential facility. Victor reports she is doing quite well and is expected to come home by Christmas. Sally and I are going to visit her next week.

She told police that she and Donny never had an affair, though that was her original intent in meeting him that time at the motel. She had discovered on her own about Cindy and Victor, but when push came to shove she couldn’t go through with her plan of having payback sex with Donny. Halloween night she got it in her head to confront Cindy and had left the house bound for the Olivers’ residence. On the way, she lost her gumption and instead picked up a bottle of vodka and some over-the-counter sleeping pills and headed for the same motel where she’d met Donny. The register at the motel showed Johnette checking in before Carolyn Poppin was shot.

Devastated by current events, Cindy Oliver packed up her girls and moved into her parents’ home just outside of Seattle to help her father care for her mother, who was now partially paralyzed from a stroke she suffered soon after the shooting. I hadn’t heard yet what the authorities planned to do about Mrs. Poppin and the murder charge, but I hoped they would leave her alone, deciding it would do no good to throw an elderly, disabled woman in prison.

Tommy Bledsoe died from the gunshot wound he received while struggling with Steele over the gun.

Both Fran and Karen were arrested on charges of conspiracy.
I told the police everything I had learned while sitting at the kitchen table with Mother, including that Tim had said Fran had no part in the kidnapping. I don’t know what will happen to them, but I do know that I will be expected to give testimony when the time comes.

Steele’s back to working ten- and twelve-hour days. The few times I’ve seen him, he hasn’t said a word about Tim Weber or Karen’s betrayal. The Silhouette/Sweet Kiss matter was settled in favor of our client, and once again there is a parade of temporary secretaries going in and out of Steele’s life. But Jolene McHugh and I have a surprise for Steele. Unbeknownst to him, we have located, interviewed, and hired a permanent new secretary for that spot. She starts a week from Monday, the same day I return. Her name is Jill Bernelli. That’s right, Sally Kipman’s Jill. Jill of the fabulous bundt cake. Jill the lesbian. Seems Jill worked as a legal secretary for many years, until two years ago when the firm she was working at dissolved.

I can’t wait to see Steele’s face.

Zee continued to fuss over me, fixing my hair and straightening my dress over my cast, until I thought I was going to roll over her foot out of desperation. But looking at her glowing face, I couldn’t stay annoyed. She was hovering and fussing because she loves me, so she can hover and fuss all she likes.

“Odelia, honey, you ready?” It was Seth, standing at the door, looking so handsome in his tux. “People are waiting.”

I nodded. It was shit or get off the pot time.

Zee handed me my bouquet and grabbed her own. She bent down and gave me a kiss on my cheek, and I saw that she was crying. She paused long enough to whisper in my ear. “You are so blessed.”

And don’t I know it.

Zee left, and Seth took command of the wheelchair, being careful that my gown wasn’t in the way of the wheels. He wheeled me out of the room and through the house to the back patio, where a white runner had been placed going from the house to the pool area. At the end of the runner, an altar had been constructed with an arched trellis interwoven with flowers. Greg and I would be married on the exact spot where we met.

On either side of the runner were rented white chairs filled with the people we love. I saw Greg’s parents in the front. Sitting obediently with them, Wainwright sported a jaunty white bow for the occasion. When he saw me, Wainwright let out a short, loud whine, causing everyone to laugh. I also spotted Kelsey and Joan, Dev, Boomer, Steele and Jolene, Jacob and Hannah Washington, even Carl Yates and his wife. They were all there, including my goofy stepmother, whom today I loved unconditionally. Even Willie had sent flowers along with a handwritten note that said:
No worries, little mama.

At the end of the altar stood Zee, my matron of honor, wearing a dark blue simple gown, and Sally Kipman, wearing a silk pantsuit of the same color. Greg’s brother was his best man, and Seth would join them as a groomsman.

And then there was Greg, sitting in his wheelchair, looking gorgeous in a tux. The man who loved me in spite of my faults and stubbornness. The man who decided it was better to love me and worry about me than to live without me. The man who told me if I continued sticking my nose into other people’s business, then he intended to take out a lot of life insurance on me.

The man who proposed to me surrounded by murder, mayhem, and flashing police lights, and said he didn’t care as long as he got to stay by my side forever.

As soon as Seth negotiated the chair onto the runner, the music started, and my father joined us. He beamed at me with tears in his eyes. Here was a man who was seldom out of droopy pants and old suspenders, but today he was in a tuxedo—just for me. He held out his arm and I took it, and with Seth pushing the wheelchair, my father walked me down the aisle.

As I sat in my wheelchair with my broken leg, next to Greg in his, I had a fleeting moment of fear as Pastor Hill recited the vows. Greg answered his with confidence and conviction. Then it was my turn.

“Odelia Patience Grey,” I heard as if in a dream, “do you take Gregory William Stevens to be your wedded husband, to live together in marriage? Do you promise to love, comfort, honor, and keep him for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, and forsaking all others, be faithful only to him so long as you both shall live?”

I paused and felt the people around me hold their breath. I studied Greg’s face, both of us at eye level, both of us with tears of joy in our eyes.

“I do.”

In the end, it wasn’t the wedding of my dreams. But in the end, I married the man of my dreams, and isn’t that what really matters?

No worries, little mama.

The End

About the Author

Joanna Campbell Slan is the author of twelve books, including seven on scrapbooking. She is a frequent contributor to the
Chicken Soup for the Soul
series, and her work appears in a variety of other anthologies. A world traveler, Joanna has led an interesting life, appearing before groups of all sizes as a speaker, meeting such celebrities as Jon Bon Jovi and Van Cliburn, and riding a camel to the pyramids in Egypt. Visit her website for tips on scrapbooking and to learn more about her work: www.joannaslan.com.