Four Weddings and a Fireman (30 page)

The music began again, and even though it was only in her head, he seemed to hear it and move to the same rhythm. They flowed against each other, thrust and counter-­thrust, move and countermove, each step stoking the passion that flared ever more vibrant. A low hum began in her throat and she didn't stop it. Didn't even try. She hadn't used her voice this way in so long, it felt almost rusty. Letting her voice carry her emotion into the light, letting it fly free and wild—­it felt like the most magnificent gift the heavens could grant.

Shivers of pleasure swept through her. Not just bodily pleasure, but that of the soul too. The inner drumbeat increased its pace, demanding its due, marching toward release. She felt cleansed by joy—­the joy of feeling the barriers fall, letting the sweetness of another being join with hers.

When he arched into her, clamping her hips against his, glory burst over her in blinding waves. She sang his name, or maybe she hollered it. All she knew was it spiraled from her throat like a clarion call. He answered by gathering her against him and wrapping himself around her, as if their combined release fused them together into something new.

It took a
while for either one to attempt to move. Vader wondered, with half of his potentially concussed brain, if he'd died and gone to heaven.

“Want to tell you something,” Cherie mumbled from the direction of his chest.

Seriously, maybe he had gone to heaven. All this time she'd spent
not
telling him anything, and now she wanted to talk. “Now that's what I like to hear. Tell me anything you want.”

“You didn't realize it, but I was a virgin when I met you.”

“
What?
” He sure hadn't expected that. He struggled to sit up, but she kept her weight squarely on top of him. He fell back against the pillows.

“I was afraid of men and afraid of Mackintosh. I'd just planned to avoid the whole kit and caboodle. But when you came along, I couldn't help myself. I'd still be a virgin if it wasn't for you.” She kept her head buried in his chest. “That's why I kept you waiting all that time at the beginning. I had to read up on it.”

“You read up on it?”

“Educated myself. We didn't get much information in Prophesize's house. For certain, I never would have imagined it felt so good.”

“A virgin,” he repeated, marveling. “I feel stupid that I didn't know.”

“Why would you know? I hid it pretty well. I'm only telling you now so you know I always loved you. I wouldn't have gone to bed with you if I didn't.”

A quiet sort of hush fell over the room as Vader digested this. “You loved me,” he said finally, in a voice roughened by emotion. “But you kept saying no.”

She raised herself onto her forearms, splayed across his chest. He tilted his neck up to meet her suddenly serious gaze. “First, there was the situation with Mackintosh. But that wasn't the only thing. I'd never even been to your house. Vader, you never mentioned your mother's accident, or her wheelchair, or your father. Is it any wonder I didn't really believe you were serious? I hid stuff, but you did too.”

Unable to keep from touching her, he brushed his thumb across her cheek. “Maybe I don't like ­people seeing I'm not Superman.”

She turned her head to kiss his thumb as it passed. “You are to me. But until that fire at your house, I never thought you needed me.”

“Oh, I need you,” he said in a hoarse whisper. “I'll never stop needing you.”

“I love you so much, my dearest sweetest Superman.” And they lost themselves in a kiss that felt more real and sweet than anything Vader had dreamed of. Then he rolled her over and sealed it with something more than a kiss.

After that satisfying interlude, Cherie slowly formed the thought that a good portion of the morning must have passed. “What time is it?”

“I'm the wrong person to ask. It is daytime? Nighttime?” He lifted his head a bare inch off the pillow. “Blinds are shut tight, but I see some light under the door. Must be daytime.”

“Trixie said she went for breakfast in the lobby.”

“Breakfast. Now you're talking. I never had dinner last night.”

“You must be starving.” Vader, Cherie knew, required a lot of fuel. “Maybe she'll bring us some muffins or something.”

“You want to bet?”

At his skeptical look, she laughed. “Trixie has her moments. She saved me from Mackintosh. And she let us do this, didn't she?”

“Let us?”

“Yeah. She left a note that said, ‘I'm in the lobby, hint, hint.' ”

“Well, if I know my Trixie, and I've kind of gotten a crash course since she moved to San Gabriel, she did that for a reason.”

Cherie squirmed out from under him. “She probably wants us to get together. I mean, for real.”

“It was always real for me.” He said it matter-­of-­factly, with no hint of accusation. “Can you reach your phone? I've got a goddess on top of me and I can't budge.”

Cherie gave him a little swat, then scrambled across him to grab her phone, which teetered on the edge of the nightstand. “Wow. It's five minutes to eleven. Checkout's at eleven.”

“That must be one long continental breakfast.”

“I'm calling her.” She dialed Trixie, but the call went straight to voice mail. “That girl is going to drive me crazy.”

“I'm going to take a shower. Why don't you go check the lobby? I don't want her running into Mackintosh when she least expects it.”

“He left last night. We saw him.”

“Still. We know he's persistent. And that he knows how to improvise a weapon.”

A knot of dread began to form in the pit of her stomach. It did seem like a long time for Trixie to be gone. She hadn't checked the clock when she first woke up, but at least two hours had passed, probably three.

Quickly, she pulled on her clothes—­this made the third day in the row for her pistachio-­green checkered dress—­grabbed her phone and card key, and hurried down to the lobby. The breakfast bar had been cleared away. An older ­couple sipped coffee at a table as they watched the TV mounted in the corner.

Trixie was nowhere to be seen.

Ordering herself not to panic, she approached them. “Excuse me, I'm looking for my sister. She's thin with blond hair and big blue eyes, and she was eating breakfast—­”

The woman smiled up at her. She had a kind face wrinkled by years of that lovely smile. “Yes, Trixie. What a sweet girl. You must be Cherie.”

“Yes.” Relief made her grin widely. “Do you know where she is?”

“She left a short time ago. Her cell phone was dead, so she said to give you a message.”

“A message?”

“Yes. She said she was rolling the dice. That was it.”

The man, who wore an old-­fashioned derby hat with a jaunty little feather, chimed in. “I thought I saw her at that bus stop over there, and I said, Minnie, is that her? But before Minnie could look that way, the bus pulled up and she was gone.”

“Bus stop?” Cherie realized she was stupidly repeating everything the ­couple said, but she couldn't help it.

“The Greyhound Bus Lines. One goes north, one goes south.”

Cherie was almost afraid to ask. “Which did you see?”

“South. Toward Las Vegas. Oh, my goodness. Rolling the dice. Do you think that's what she meant, Minnie? We've been trying to figure out what her message might have signified, and . . . Oh! There she goes, Minnie. They move so fast in their family!”

Cherie, already halfway across the room, waved at them. “Thanks for passing on the message! Have a lovely day.”

“Good luck to you, Cherie!”

Oh no, not me
, Cherie thought grimly. The one who needed luck was Trixie, when Cherie got her hands on her.

 

Chapter Twenty-­Nine

C
herie tried to convince Vader that he didn't need to come to Las Vegas. But he was at the start of a four-­day break and flatly refused to let her go alone. He did agree to let her drive, since he was still a bit woozy from his knock on the head. While she drove, he manned the phone.

First up was Jacob. “Humility-­Trixie is on her way to Las Vegas. Alone. In a Greyhound bus.”

“It's too early for funny jokes.” Jacob sounded sleepy, as if he'd been up all night playing the slots.

“It's noon.”

“Sweet mercy, noon already? All right. Let's have it. First of all, where's Cherie?”

“She's driving.”

“And Humility's on a bus? Why? Why's she coming here?”

“Who knows with her? She said she was trying to find you, but we think she has something else going on. Otherwise, why'd she ditch us?”

“No doubt. Alrighty then, I'll head for the Greyhound station. I'll call you when I find her. After I wring her neck.”

“Cool. Also, Mackintosh caught up with us here at a rest stop off the 5. So watch your back.”

“Mackintosh?” Jacob's teasing tone dropped abruptly. “Did you see him?”

“I didn't see much of him. He knocked me out from behind. Then he tried to grab Cherie, but Trixie knocked him out.” Vader ground his teeth as he recounted that fairly mortifying sequence of events. “Cherie said he's looking for his son Robbie. He's driving a tan Buick. Cherie told him you don't know where his son is either.”

Silence on the other end of the phone. Then Jacob said a tight “Thanks for the heads-­up,” and hung up.

“Does he know where Robbie is?” Cherie asked.

“Didn't say. But Mackintosh definitely has him spooked. Or something does.”

Next he called Joe the Toe and asked if he could pick up the Suburban. Joe grumbled, but when Vader offered to put fifty bucks on red at the roulette wheel for him, he agreed. Finally Vader called his mother to give her an update and told her to keep her cell phone charged and in her hand.

“I wouldn't dream of anything else. This is so exciting!”

“I'm glad someone's enjoying it.” But no one could possibly be enjoying this more than he was, with Cherie finally by his side, the way he wanted her.

Well, maybe not exactly how he wanted her. He'd prefer the driver's seat. He loved Cherie, but watching her drive his truck was worse than getting hit on the head with a signpost. She kept taking her hands off the wheel as she ranted about Trixie. “I knew she had something else up her sleeve. You know what I think she's doing? I think she's taking my tango money and playing the slots. Finding Jacob was just an excuse. She can't drive so she lied to me. And stole your van. That girl has more angles than a geometry class! Would you stop that?”

Vader had snuck a hand to the steering wheel so she couldn't veer into the fast lane.

“If you drive at this speed in the fast lane, someone will lynch you.”

“I'm a cautious driver.” She always drove about ten miles slower than anyone else.

“My truck is crying right now. You hear those sobs?
Save me, save me
.”

“Do you mind if we stick to the point? I'm really worried about Trixie. She has no clue what Las Vegas is like.”

“I thought you were mad at her.”

“Yes. Mad and worried. That about sums it up when it comes to Trixie.”

She kept talking, while he laid his head back and watched, basking in the joy the morning had brought. He was now entirely convinced that Cherie loved him, though making her prove it some more might be fun too.

Just as they reached the outskirts of Las Vegas, Jacob called. Vader put him on speaker so Cherie could hear too. “Found her. Well, I don't have her yet, but I know where she is.” He sounded grim.

“Where?”

“Are you ready for this? She's either on her way, or already at, a wedding chapel called the Chappelle de l'Amour. Some kid picked her up at the Greyhound station.”

“What?” Cherie cried.

Vader whipped a hand to the steering wheel to keep her from driving clear off the road.

“She's getting
married
? Oh, I'm an idiot. I should have put that one together right away!” Cherie slapped herself on the forehead. “All her flirting and going online. When she heard Jacob was going to Vegas she must have jumped on the opportunity. Oh, that girl, I'm going to . . .” She brandished her fist in the air.

“Hands on the steering wheel, Cherie. I'm begging you. Jacob, we'll meet you there.”

“Absolutely. Whoever gets there first gets to strangle Humility.”

While Cherie fumed, Vader looked up directions to the Chappelle de l'Amour, which, according to its Web site, offered classy weddings for every lifestyle.

It turned out to be a modern, brand-­new-­looking building with hardly a cheesy touch to be seen. Inside, the floors were polished hardwood, the decor clean and simple. A few ­couples gathered in the waiting area. Jacob and Trixie were nowhere to be seen.

At the far end of the chapel, a closed door bore a sign that read, “Wedding in Progress.” They ran toward it.

“I sure hope we're not interrupting anyone's special day,” Vader whispered as Cherie reached for the doorknob.

“Too bad.” And she pushed open the door.

Three ­people were gathered inside the quiet, light-­filled space. Trixie stood at the head of the aisle, face to face with a clean-­cut, skinny boy Vader had never seen before. He wore an ugly green blazer several sizes too big for him. Even Vader could tell that it clashed with Trixie's sunflower-­yellow sundress and sequined flip-­flops. An official-­looking man in a black suit glared over his half-­moon glasses at Cherie and Vader.

“You'll have to wait your turn like everyone else,” he told them. Trixie spun around.

“Cherie?” Trixie's eyes went wide as Vader's tire rims.

Cherie stalked up the aisle, her dress swirling around her legs. “What are you
doing
, Trixie?”

Trixie jutted her chin forward in a gesture Vader had come to know all too well. “What does it look like?”

“It looks like you've lost your ever-­loving mind. Who is this?” She gestured at the painfully young groom, who took a step back, nearly stumbling over a folding chair.

Trixie shrieked and lunged for the kid, snagging him before he fell. “Now look what you did, Cherie! Dale and I are in love and you're trying to ruin everything.”

Cherie cornered the two of them. “How old are you, Dale?”

“Eighteen,” he quavered. “I'm old enough to get married.”

To Vader, he looked more like fourteen, max. A shock of sandy hair stood straight up from his forehead.

“But why would you want to do that? Is it a religious thing? You can't have sex until you get married?”

Dale flushed as red as the carnations on the altar and looked to Trixie for help.

“He's marrying me because he wants to keep me safe,” she said defiantly.

“Safe?”

The wedding officiant spoke up. “If both parties are willing and both are eighteen, and there's a valid wedding license, we don't have a problem.”

“
I
have a problem,” said Cherie. “She's getting married for all the wrong reasons.” She turned to Trixie. “No offense to Dale, but how in blue blazes is he going to keep you safe?”

Dale huddled further into his oversize blazer. Peering more closely at the jacket, Vader noticed it bore a name pin from a car rental agency. At a guess, his father worked there.

Trixie stomped her foot, making the hardwood floor echo. “You think I'm just a kid, don't you? I know more than you what's going on! Soon as I saw you with Vader, I knew you'd end up with him. I started looking for a husband right away. You know I'm right, Cherie. You slept in that bed with him last night, with me in the room, and I know you wouldn't have done that if you don't mean to marry him.”

Vader snapped his head toward Cherie, who refused to meet his eyes. “We're not talking about me right now.”

“Me, you, it don't make any difference to Mackintosh! Once he knows you're taken by a big strong fireman, I'm next on his list. The only way to stay off it is to get married! I told the whole thing to Dale online and he agreed. A wedding ring and a marriage license, that's all I need to keep me safe. I just want to be safe. That's all.”

With a little sob, she shoved at Cherie, who stumbled backward. Vader hurried forward to catch her in his arms. His poor love was shaking. He heard the chapel door open, but was too preoccupied with Cherie to see who it was.

“If all you want is to get married, why didn't you just marry Robbie Mackintosh?”

“Are you kidding me?”

The chapel door closed with a solid thump. Everyone turned. Vader recognized Jacob right away. He'd always reminded Vader of a wiry, twinkly-­eyed elf, one he might accidentally crush if he took a wrong step. But he didn't know the dark-­haired young man at his side. The stranger spoke into the surprised silence.

“She couldn't marry me because I'm gay and I'm in love with her brother. Always have been.”

Cherie's jaw dropped
as she stared at Robbie Mackintosh, whose stocky, muscled frame had filled in since she last saw him. He was a ­couple of years younger than she, so he'd only been fifteen when she'd left home. Now he was holding Jacob's hand, and Jacob looked happier than she'd ever seen him. A glow seemed to surround the two of them.

“You two are
together
?”

“Yep,” said Jacob. “For good, this time.”

“This time?” She clutched at Vader's arms, which were still wrapped around her.

“We had a thing going on back home. Mackintosh caught us kissing and came damn close to killing us.” Despite his light tone, Jacob's expression tightened with the memory. “I wanted Robbie to leave with us, but he wasn't ready.”

“Not then,” said Robbie. “But I'm here now. That's why my father's on a rampage. Sorry you all got caught in the middle.”

Cherie still couldn't wrap her mind around it all. “Why didn't you ever tell me, Jacob?”

“
No one
knew. We didn't tell anyone. Deep, deep dark secret. Deepest and darkest. Anyway, when I left Pine Creek, we thought it was over. I tried to forget about him. It was only when he showed up in Santa Cruz that I knew I'd never stopped loving him. When us Harpers fall, we fall for good.” Her brother gave Robbie such a tender kiss that Cherie's heart melted. Jacob's usual wry, joking attitude had completely disappeared, as if the clouds had moved away from the sun, revealing the true glory beyond.

“Is that why you freaked out when I broke our pact and told Vader about Mackintosh?”

“Yes. Robbie was already with me. We knew Mackintosh would be looking for him. The last thing we needed was a complication like Vader. But I was wrong. I admit it. Forgive?” He pulled a comical, apologetic face, the one she could never resist. How could she not forgive him? They'd stuck together through everything. This would be only a tiny bump on the road.

Trixie stomped her foot. “Can we get back to business here? Mr. Preacher, Dale and I have a wedding night to get to.”

Dale blushed a painful fuchsia.

“Technically, I'm not a preacher,” explained the officiant, who seemed to be a stickler for accuracy. “I am a licensed minister, but I have no religious affiliation.”

“Trixie,” Cherie pleaded, untwining herself from Vader's arms and approaching them. “Dale seems like a really sweet guy, so why don't you take some time to get to know him?”

“We know each other on a soul-­deep level, don't we, Dale?”

Dale finally spoke his second sentence. “Uh-­huh.”

“Listen, both of you.” She took both of their hands in hers, though Trixie immediately snatched hers away. “Look at Jacob and Robbie over there. Now
that's
true love. Don't you want real love, a real relationship? Dale, how will you ever know if you really love each other or if you're just getting married to protect Trixie?”

“Dale doesn't care!” Trixie burst out impatiently. “He just wants to get laid!”

Her groom let out an appalled gasp. “We're in a church, Trixie.”

“Shut up, it's not a church, it's a Chappelle. Says right there.” She waved at the sign over the altar.

“But you said it would be a church wedding. And that man said he isn't even a preacher.”

“Do you have to worry about every little detail?” Trixie snapped. “I hope you're not like this when we're married.”

Cherie stepped between Trixie and Dale, forcing her sister to look at her. “Listen to me, Trixie. You don't have to worry about Mackintosh. He can't force you to marry him.”

“Yeah? Who says I can't.” A deep, twanging voice spoke from the far side of the chapel.