Liberty or Death (43 page)

No sooner was he released by the press, than Andre was back in our hospital room, where I lay surrounded by my maidens, asking, "When are we getting married?"

By that time, having been without him for a few hours, I'd fallen deep into a black funk. He lay down beside me, threw an arm across me, and yawned. "When?" he repeated.

"Wednesday."

"I have to wait that long?"

"I have a low-cut dress, dahling," I said. "Right now, my chest looks like an enormous purple plum exploded underneath my skin. My nose is swollen. I have two slightly blackened eyes, in case you hadn't noticed."

"I hadn't noticed," he interrupted. "You look incredibly beautiful to me."

Go ahead,
I thought.
Take my breath away. Wrap me in your love and make me gorgeous. I'm still waiting until Wednesday.
"Everything hurts when I move," I said. "Call it vanity if you will, but I want to walk, not limp or stagger, down the aisle. I want to be able to take that deep breath when I first spot you in all your penguin splendor without spreading agony. My mother is still going to want all the trappings, and even on an expedited schedule, trappings take time. We marry on Wednesday. However..."

I paused for dramatic effect. "I am not letting you out of my sight between now and then."

He muttered something in French.

"What?"

"Very intimate," he said. "We eat, sleep, shower, and get dressed together? None of this bride-and-groom-can't-see-each-other-before-the-wedding hooey?"

"No hooey," I agreed. "We should have done this last time."

* * *

"Hold still," Suzanne said. "You may be thinner but this dress is still just as slippery."

Across the room, Andre lounged against the bureau, fiddling with his cuff links. "Can I help?" he asked.

"You!" Suzanne snapped. "You should get out of here. Don't you want this to be a surprise? You're supposed to wait until she comes down the aisle to see how drop-dead gorgeous she looks. Why don't you go downstairs and make sure everything else is ready? Go tweak boutonnieres and straighten lapels or something. Nip into the back room and have a bracing bit of Scotch."

With most people, he would have argued, but for Suzanne, he went as quietly as a lamb. Accepting just a little bit of hooey for the sake of surprise. A minute later, she straightened up. "You're done. And this time, we didn't forget the shoes. Ready for your veil?" She picked it up off the dresser and handed it to me. I pinned it into place and glanced in the mirror. Hot damn! Despite my slightly swollen nose, my bruised cleavage, and the lingering circles under my eyes, it had happened again. I was a beautiful bride.

Despite my resistance to all this wedding hooey, I was observing all the traditions. Something old—the beautiful gold-and-pearl earrings Suzanne had given me. Something new, my incredible gaudy marshmallow of a dress. Something borrowed—my mother's last pair of off-white panty hose, since mine had sprung a run right out of the box. Something blue—a silly garter of white lace and blue velvet Rosie Florio had made. I carried a bouquet rich with white scented lilies, trailing ribbons that matched my bridesmaids' dresses.

My mother knocked on the door and burst in without waiting. I think she was afraid something would go wrong again and we'd never have this wedding. She stopped halfway across the room as I turned from the mirror to face her. I saw tears spring into her eyes. She closed the distance between us and hugged me. Very, very carefully. I was still fragile. "I'm sorry," she said. "Oh, Thea. I'm sorry. For so many things... for so many wrong... so many unfair judgments... the awful things I've said... for the many, many times when I should have said this before and was too stubborn to do it. Mothers... as you will learn for yourself... aren't perfect. All we really have going for us is love."

Now there were two of us with tears in our eyes. For years I'd imagined this moment. Longed for it. Now, when it came, I was speechless. Blindly, I swept past her and down the stairs, my beautiful, shiny dress floating around me like a cloud.

My father waited at the bottom, handsome and distinguished and he, too, had tears in his eyes. Wasn't this supposed to be a happy occasion? My bridesmaids lined up in front of me in their lovely, luminous dresses the colors of Caribbean water. Jack and Andre and the minister were waiting. Michael came and gave my mother his arm. It was time.

Maybe all brides cry. I don't know. This was my first real wedding, once removed. The walk down the aisle, the music, the people standing, their faces alight with love and tears, it all passed by in a blur. I relinquished my father's arm, and took Andre's. We stepped forward and stood before the minister and the cadence of the words flowed over us. Jonetta Williamson got up in all her glory and sang a breathtaking version of "Take My Hand, Precious Lord." As she sang the words, "I am tired, I am weak, I am worn..." Andre reached down and took my hand, and a rumble of approval went through the guests.
You see,
I thought.
Now you see why I did it. How could I not?

I felt blessed. I felt awed. I felt staggered by reality. We were really and truly and finally here. At last the minister got to the heart of the matter. "Theadora McKusick Kozak, do you take Andre Joseph Lemieux to be your lawful wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, to love and to cherish, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, so long as you both shall live?"

I was dizzy with the power of those words. I felt the mantle of responsibility fall on my shoulders like a warm and welcome cloak. It seemed as if the world was holding its collective breath, waiting for my answer. I had traveled long and hard to arrive at this moment. I looked into his face, the one I wanted to see on the pillow beside me for the next fifty years, the one I'd come so close to losing. Better get this over with before something else happened.

"I do," I said.

The End

 

Page forward for more Thea Kozak in

Death in Paradise

 

 

 

 

 

Excerpt from

 

Death in Paradise

 

by

 

Kate Flora

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 1

 

I was in Hawaii. The double doors opening to a lanai, the swaying palm trees, the inviting blue water all confirmed it. So did the airy tropical decor. So had my ticket. I knew for certain that I had gotten on a plane in Boston, flown to Honolulu, and changed to a plane for Maui. So why the heck was I crawling around on my hands and knees searching for a dropped earring when it wasn't yet 6:00 a.m., already late for my first meeting of the day? Why was my skin still pasty white? And why was I gulping decongestants for the stuffy head I always get from too many hours in air-conditioned rooms, instead of walking on the beach?

Because I was a grown-up, a working girl, and a slave of duty.

Where was that damned earring? If I didn't find it, the maid's vacuum surely would, and it was a favorite. The phone rang. I was certain it was Martina, she who never slept, calling to complain about my tardiness. Martina Pullman, conference director, head of the National Association of Girls' Schools. I had been on Maui for about thirty hours, many of them in her company, and there had already been four occasions when I had wanted to strangle her. I considered not answering it, but then again, I am that slave of duty.

I grabbed the receiver. As I pulled the phone to my ear, I shifted my weight, bringing my knee down hard on the lurking earring. The sharp post stabbed me like a bee sting. Instead of the brisk hello I'd been forming, I yelped an ouch into the receiver.

"It can't be that bad," Andre said, "you're in paradise, remember?" Detective Andre Lemieux, Maine State Police. The love of my life.

"Frankly, dahling, I'm finding that one hotel is much like another. For all the fun I'm having, for all the sea and sand and sun I'm getting, I might just as well be in Juneau or Poughkeepsie."

"I'm so glad you're miserable," he said, "because I'm miserable and..."

"Misery loves company, right?"

"It's a damned cold spring, that's all I can say."

"That's
all
you can say?"

"The bed is cold."

"And?"

"And if you were having a good time, I could start feeling awfully sorry for myself."

"Well, don't. It's not yet six a.m. here. I'm late for a meeting. And I just found my missing earring by having it stab me in the knee."

"You're just trying to make me feel better. I know... you're all done up in one of those teeny bikinis you packed... and on your way to the—"

"The ones that have a distinct effect on your anatomy?" I interrupted.

"Beach," he finished. "Yes. The ones that just thinking about, sitting here thousands of miles away, have a distinct effect on my anatomy. Can't you tell?"

"Sure. I can hear the strain in your vocal chords. I'm glad you miss me. I'd hate to go away and have you indifferent."

"The day I'm indifferent to you, Kozak, is the day they plant me. I've prayed for indifference, or at least more self-control, but—"

"Your prayers weren't answered," I finished.

"Or they were," he said. "So it's bad, huh? As bad as you expected? Martina, I mean?"

"Worse. She expects me to be governess, gofer, and CEO all at once. We've been visited by more plagues than God and Moses visited on Egypt and each time she turns to me with that tight, sullen look, raises those dumb plucked eyebrows, and says, 'Thea, can you handle this?' as though I was the one who organized this stupid conference instead of her. I'm not even supposed to be here."

"I'm sorry," he said. "Jealous as I am, I still wish you were having a good time. I thought I was going to get you back all brown and cheerful and relaxed."

"Bristling like a hedgehog and growling through clenched teeth is more like it. Another day like yesterday and I'm going to kill her. I swear."

"Everything is not your job," he reminded me. "You're just one of the people on the board. You're just a conference speaker, remember? So tell her that."