The Day Will Come (19 page)
The first thing I thought when I woke up Saturday morning—Lucy’s wedding day—was,
Holy cow. It’s raining.
The raindrops tapped on my roof, and I stumbled out of bed to peer out the window. The dusk-to-dawn light illuminated the steady, feathery rain, and I felt a confused tumble of gratefulness and irritation. Could God not wait one more day to send it? Or was this God’s way of telling us something profound, that I wasn’t getting?
Nick was sprawled on the sofa in the front room, the afghan on the floor, along with his shoes. He hadn’t even bothered to take off his jeans. I studied him, listening to the rain pound the metal roof above that section of the house, and wondered if it was the last time he’d be sleeping on my sofa. I left him, not sure I had any chance of choking down breakfast.
Lucy was already in the kitchen, leaning on the sink, her nose inches from the window. I grimaced, not sure I was ready for the tears I was sure I’d see because of the rain.
But she turned around smiling. “Isn’t it beautiful?”
I stared at her, my mouth hanging open. “Huh?”
“The rain. We need it so badly.”
I stared at her some more.
“What?” she said.
I shook my head. “Nothing.”
She pushed herself off the sink. “I thought I’d help with milking this morning.”
“Lucy—”
“I want to.”
I gave a half-laugh. “Well. Okay. It’s your wedding.”
The news reported the arrest of Bobby Baronne, saying only that he’d been found safe and sound and holding much more money than he should’ve had. A mug shot blinked onto the screen, showing an exhausted and down-trodden middle-aged man with stringy long hair and a big nose. Baronne didn’t look like any rock star now.
Ricky and Marley weren’t pictured, but it was told that Baronne was being harbored by two adults who were also being held for questioning.
Good for them.
I called the police station, only to be told that Detective Willard wasn’t in. I left a message to have him call me, and the cop promised to relay it. I guessed I had to leave it at that. Willard’s family wouldn’t be too happy if I called their house at five-o’clock in the morning.
After a light breakfast, which I managed to eat despite my worries, Lucy and I headed out to the barn at a trot, trying to dodge the raindrops. Queenie met us in the parlor. She knew where to hang out in a rainstorm.
I squatted down and rubbed both sides of her neck. “Thanks for taking care of Nick last night.”
“You’re welcome,” Lucy said.
I looked up. “I was talking to Queenie.”
Lucy’s eyebrows rose.
“But thanks to you, too.”
She continued on to the feed room.
“He mad I left?” I asked.
Her voice drifted around the corner. “Actually, no.”
I wondered what that meant.
Lucy appeared with the feed cart. “He didn’t seem to even notice you were gone. In his own world. Went right to the front room, and hasn’t come out yet.”
I blew my bangs off my forehead. “Your folks at the hotel in Kulpsville?”
“Yup. Seem happy there. No stepping over anybody to get to the bathroom. Except each other.”
“You’ll be in a hotel tonight.”
She blushed, and I couldn’t help but chuckle. The woman was at least forty and had been married before. What was the blushing about?
“You all ready for today?” I asked.
She smiled again. “Yes. Can’t wait.”
“Even with the rain?”
“Don’t they say rain on your wedding day is a good omen?”
“I guess.”
She paused, a hand on her hip. “I would think rain after a drought would be even better. Lenny and I must be in for a lot of good years.”
I grabbed the bucket and ran warm water into it.
A lot of good years. We couldn’t always count on those, could we? As Lucy knew too well, after losing her husband Brad.
“Besides,” Lucy said. “We can use the hall at the German-Hungarian Club if we have to. It might be a little smoky, but we’ll survive.”
Milking went quickly and smoothly, Lucy and I working together without having to talk. By eight-thirty I was practically pushing Lucy out the barn door.
“Will you go, already? I’m feeling guilty here.”
She laughed. “All right, all right. It’s just…I’ll miss the girls.” She patted the rump of Ariel, the first cow in the row.
“Yeah, yeah, send ’em a postcard.”
She hesitated in the doorway. “You’ll be getting ready soon, too?”
I froze, my pitchfork in a lump of dirty bedding. Ma had handed me the garment bag after the rehearsal the day before, and with everything that happened I hadn’t even unzipped it. It was hanging unopened in my front closet, where I’d stashed it before milking with Nick.
“You bet,” I said to Lucy. “My outfit is all ready for me.”
I didn’t mention I had no idea what it looked like.
Her face softened. “Well, good. I can’t wait to see it.”
Me, either.
By the time I finished up in the barn, she and Tess were in clean clothes, ready to head to the church. Lucy’s wedding gown lay in plastic over her arm, while Tess already wore her dress, an adorable light green thing with all kinds of frilly stuff.
On her, that style looked good.
They left, and I found Nick in the kitchen, where he cradled a cup of hot tea in his hands. His hair was wet from a shower, and he wore pressed, dark gray pants and a light blue shirt that I knew would bring out the color of his eyes.
“Morning,” I said.
He blew on his tea, the steam rising past his face. “Morning.”
“We driving to the wedding together, or separate?”
He took a sip of his drink. “Whatever you want.”
Oh, great.
“I have to leave as soon as I’m dressed,” I said.
He spooned a sprinkling of sugar into his tea. “I’m ready whenever.”
“Then I guess we can go together.”
He nodded. “All right.”
“All right.”
I turned and left the kitchen.
Grabbing the garment bag and shoe box from the front closet, I felt a pang of anxiety. Not about the clothes, exactly, but about the entire day. Too many issues at hand, besides what I would be wearing.
Swallowing my worry, I took the clothes and went upstairs. My closet door stood a few inches open, and I hooked the garment bag’s hanger over the top. It was the moment of truth. I pulled down the zipper.
Tears sprang to my eyes as I took in Ma’s creation. Not only because it was beautiful. Or black. Or unfrilly. It was just…me. I showered quickly, put on the outfit, and went downstairs.
Nick’s reaction when I stepped out of the stairwell affirmed my feelings, and I had to smile. He looked more animated than he had since before he got sick, his eyes traveling up and down Ma’s original design. Well, up and down
me.
The two-piece outfit was made of some kind of black material. Shiny and flowing. Silk, maybe? I didn’t know. The top was sleeveless, with a V-neck pointing to a row of shiny black buttons down the front, and did wonders for the fact that I had no cleavage to speak of. The shirt ended at my waist, just covering the band of the pants Ma had fashioned. The flat-front slacks had flared legs, long enough and wide enough to accommodate the dressy black boots Ma had gotten. They weren’t Harley boots, but soft black leather above low black wooden heels.
“Wow,” Nick said.
I felt like a million bucks.
We made a quiet trip to the church in my truck, listening only to the rain on the windshield and cab roof. From previous experience I knew the awkwardness we felt would only be heightened by songs we might hear on the radio. So I left it off.
We stepped into the church, shaking the rain off our shoulders, and were greeted by Tess and a smiling mother of the bride. She held her arms out, and again I let her hug me.
“Oh, Stella, good morning. You look wonderful.”
Unspoken was the worry Lucy had shared with her about what I’d show up wearing.
“Thanks, Lois. You look good, too.”
“And Nick,” she continued. “It’s so good to have you here.”
I glanced around the fellowship hall while they greeted each other, taking in the podium with the guest book, and other members of Lucy’s family who’d arrived early, having come from Lancaster. I wondered if Jordan had made it yet, or if he was still recovering from the night before.
Something tickled my ear, and I heard, “Rrrow.”
Bart stood beside me, glorious in his special tux, as promised.
“Talk about hot bridesmaids,” Bart said. “You know how they always say the best man and bridesmaid get together?” He waggled his eyebrows.
I snuck a peek at Nick, expecting a light joke about how I was already taken, but he purposely avoided my eyes. Bart noticed this, and made an apologetic face.
“So where’s the bride?” I asked.
“Downstairs in the nursery.”
“The nursery?”
“Attached to a bathroom. With mirrors.”
“Oh. Right.”
Lenny clumped down the stairs from the sanctuary, huge and black in his tux. His red mane had been tamed somewhat, and his beard combed into submission. He looked kind of like a kid playing dress-up, and I resisted the urge to pinch his cheek.
He took the final step onto the floor and froze, his eyes bulging at the sight of me. His mouth dropped open and he slapped a hand over his heart.
“I know,” Bart said. “Our princess cleans up pretty good.”
I slugged him lightly on the shoulder. “I’m going to see Lucy.”
“Good idea,” Lenny said, grinning. “Put her mind at ease.”
I stuck my tongue out at him and left them snickering in the foyer.
I knocked lightly on the nursery door, and, at Lucy’s summons, entered. She stopped in the middle of pulling on her pantyhose, and I turned in a circle, holding out my arms. A slow smile stretched across her face.
“Wow,” she said.
“Exactly what Nick said.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “Well, that’s good.”
“So it’s okay?”
“It’s perfect.”
“Good. Now, how can I help?”
So I did the girly thing and helped with her dress, a simple, off-white sheath. I held the mirror so she could see the back of her hair, and scootched back her sleeves while she washed her hands. The photographer came by to snap our photo, and before we knew it, Peter Reinford, the pastor, was there, telling us it was time.
He left, and I looked at Lucy. “You ready?”
“I’m ready.”
I reached for the door, but she laid a hand on my arm. “This doesn’t change us, does it?”
I opened the door. “Why would it?”
Tears welled in her eyes. “I just wanted to be sure. Because you know I love you, even if we won’t be living with you anymore.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I know.” I pulled a tissue from a box on a bookshelf. “Here. Don’t let your mascara smudge up your face.”
She laughed and dabbed her eyes with the Kleenex. “Okay. Let’s go.”
We passed the sound booth on the way up, and I did a double-take at the sight of two people in the cramped space. Jordan lifted his head and caught me staring at the woman beside him. San. Genna’s sister, who’d been desperate to find Jordan.
And who’d originally wanted him for herself.
Jordan’s face was unreadable, and I didn’t have time to find out what San was doing here. Well, other than the obvious.
I shoved it aside to think about later, since I needed to keep my mind on my job. Which right now was supporting Lucy, not figuring out who had killed a woman I’d met briefly in a green room.
The wedding was a lovely affair, with everything moving along smoothly except for Lenny knocking over the unity candle with his elbow. At least it hadn’t been lit yet.
Peter presented a short but meaningful message, and Lenny gave Lucy a kiss that seemed longer than usual for a wedding smooch. After the presentation of “Lenny and Lucy Spruce,” the new couple headed back down the aisle, Tess skipping between them, her hands in theirs.
Bart and I followed, and a quick glimpse of the outside showed that the rain had stopped and the sun was peeking through the clouds. I guessed we could have the outside reception, after all.
Lucy and Lenny got situated near the stairs to greet guests as they headed out to the reception, so I quickly told Lucy and Lenny congratulations before the hordes arrived—made up of such various groups as bikers, church folks, tattoo artists, family, and farmers—and waited for Nick, figuring we’d drive to the reception together.
When he emerged, however, it was from the elevator, with Norm and Cindy, the couple who had come to give me the MS lecture the other night.
I turned away and stalked outside, where I breathed in that wonderful smell of spring rain. People began to stream by me, heading for their cars, and I stepped to the side so I wouldn’t get run over.
I felt a presence at my shoulder and looked over to see Willard.
“Sorry I didn’t get back to you,” he said.
“I figured you were busy. Or sleeping.”
He grunted. “Both.”
“So what’s the news?”
“Ricky and the girl—”
“Marley.”
“Right. Marley. Anyway, they’ve been released on unsecured bail.”
“Meaning what?”
“They’ve been charged with hindering apprehension or prosecution, as well as obstruction of justice. But they’re out without having to pay bail money as long as they show up for their hearing.”
“You trust them on that?”
“Not my call. But they seemed sufficiently frightened by the experience. Especially the girl.”
“Good. And Baronne?”
“Still in custody. Bail will probably be set at fifty to a hundred thousand dollars. And he can’t use the money he stole to make it. They seized the cash they found with his belongings, and froze his bank account.”
I took it all in. “Did he say anything?”
“About what?”
“The bomb? Genna?”
He rubbed his face, which looked tired, even if it was clean-shaven. “He hasn’t been charged with Genna’s murder.”
“So they believe him that he didn’t kill her?”
“There’s no evidence to say he did.”
“And the bomb?”
He laughed quietly. “Now there
is
evidence for that. Fingerprints, bills of sale for components, his own confession. Not the sharpest tack in the box.”