The Wedding Caper (5 page)

“And
where did the money go?” Kristina threw in. “It’s not like he’s got a hotel room
or some fancy car to hide it in. He’s got nothing. No one.”

“Have you
asked them that?” As I shifted my gaze between both women, I could almost feel
their pain.

I didn’t
think
Janetta’s
face could tighten any more, but it
did. “They’re saying he did it to get even with me for kicking him out when he
was seventeen.” A hoarse laugh erupted from the back of her throat. “They
didn’t believe me when I told them I didn’t kick him out. He ran off. On his
own.”

A lone
tear rolled down Kristina’s cheek. “We didn’t know where he was for years. I
prayed for him every night.”

A lump
the size of Mount Rushmore grew up in my throat.

Janetta
rose from her chair and walked to
Kristina. She leaned down and kissed her daughter on the forehead as she
whispered, “We’re just glad he’s back. And we’ll prove the police wrong if it’s
the last thing we do.”

And I’ll
help you. I gave her hand a little squeeze. “I surely didn’t mean to pry into
your family business. I had no idea the man they’d been questioning was related
to you.”

She
shrugged and the strangest mixture of emotions ran through me. Complete
relief—as I realize Jake’s arrest probably let my husband off the hook,
at least temporarily. And complete heartache—as I realized the universal
pain of a mother agonizing over a wayward child.

I
garnered up all the determination I could and turned my attentions back to the
weddings at hand.

Chapter Five

When you’re
the mother of twin girls, you don’t have to join
a gym
or purchase fancy workout equipment from infomercials to stay in shape. Just
following around after the little darlings—and their laundry—will
do the trick. Add a young son to the mix and you’ve got a
Why-do-I-need-to-do-sit-ups
?-
I’ll-just-chase-the-kids-around-the-park-to-get-my-exercise
kind of mama.

For
years, this strategy appeared to be working. Thanks to good genes (kudos,
Mom!), fairly healthy eating habits, (I’ll have the salad, please, with low-fat
dressing) and an active lifestyle, (Who would’ve guessed I’d learn to play
football with my husband and son?) I’d managed to stay in shape.

Until
recently.

I could
blame it on pre-menopause, but truth be told, it was just plain laziness on my
part. The things I used to care so much about—counting calories, weighing
food, fitting into that great new skirt—just didn’t seem so important
anymore, what with certain parts of my anatomy heading south. And now that I
could purchase cute clothes in nearly every size, I’d decided to fill my closet
with just that: nearly every size.

Warren
didn’t seem to mind. In fact, as we burrowed down on the sofa each evening with
our over-sized bowls of Moo-
lenium
Crunch Ice Cream,
he seemed more content than ever. Sure, his size 32
waist
had stretch to a 36, and yes, my jeans now came in one size larger, but who
cared? We loved our lives and we loved each other—just as we were.

That’s
why, when I opened up Lesson Three on Monday morning, I couldn’t help but
groan. A GOOD INVESTIGATOR IS IN TIP-TOP SHAPE. I slapped myself in the head.
Were they kidding? What in the world did this have to do with anything?

I almost
didn’t read the crazy thing. What was the point, really? At forty-nine, I
doubted I’d ever find myself chasing criminals down back-alleys, even if I
managed to shimmy the flab off of my thighs and upper arms with the latest
advertised contraption.

Still,
with two weddings coming up, it would be nice to take off a few pounds. A
little shiver rippled down my spine as I thought about it. The mother of the
bride was often put on display much like the bride, herself. Mental note: Make
sure all wedding photos are taken dead-on. Double chins don’t show as much from
the front as the side.

Perhaps,
in light of all that lay ahead, I should pay more attention to my diet. And a
little exercise never killed anyone—at least not the kind that I might
get involved in.

I started
to sign off the Internet to contemplate my plan of action, but a whisper from
the Lord reminded me I hadn’t yet read my daily devotional. I scrolled to my
favorite Word for the Day site. My heart rate doubled as I read the scripture
verse: He must increase, but I must decrease.
John 3:30.
Another coincidence? I had to wonder.

Lord, are
you trying to tell me something?

I reached
over to grab a fistful of miniature chocolates from the bowl next to the
computer as I pondered the possibilities. I must decrease. Hmm. Yes, losing a
few pounds and getting into shape appeared to be the message of the day.

I popped
a couple of pieces of candy into my mouth and one apparently went down the
wrong way. I didn’t panic when the coughing jag started. But as I struggled to
catch my breath, I found myself contemplating the inevitable stories people
would share about me after my demise.

I could
picture the headliner on the obituary in the Clark County Gazette now: LOCAL
CRIME FIGHTER DIES WITH TELL-TALE SIGNS OF CHOCOLATE ON HER BREATH. The
dramatic piece would go on to reveal the particulars of my last moments on
planet earth—how I’d been found clutching pieces of candy-coated
chocolates in my chubby fist. From there, it would discuss my inability to fit
into the casket, due to the width of my hips.

The
“melt-in-your-mouth” piece finally dissolved enough to slide down my throat
and, after a few sips of water and an exorbitant amount of
coughing,
I managed to regain my composure. I prayed several heartfelt words of
thanksgiving,
drew in a few deep breaths and shoved the
candy dish aside. The Lord really was trying to tell me something—both
through the lesson and the Bible verse. I must do something, and I must do it
now.

Out of
the corner of my eye I noticed Sasha jumping up and down. She let out a few
frantic yips, capturing my full attention. I turned to face her, now able to
speak. “Need to go out, little girl?” I stood and reached for her leash. As I
did so, a thought occurred to me. Taking the dog for a walk burns calories.
Taking her for several walks will burn several calories.

Only
one problem with this idea.
I glanced down at the slim, trim dachshund. She didn’t look like she had many
calories to burn.

As we
made our way out to the sidewalk, I pondered my predicament. Whether I wanted
to or not, I should probably join a gym. And it wasn’t like I’d have to look
far. I’d noticed the signs around town for the new Clark County Co-Ed Fitness
Center on Main. I’d seen, through the large panes of glass out front, the
sweaty bodies inside.

I just
never dreamed I’d be one of them.

With
Sasha leading the way, I headed into town. We sprinted along, enjoying the
crisp autumn day. I couldn’t help but focus on the leaves on my neighbor’s
stately oak as the afternoon sunshine rippled through them. For a moment, the
sheer beauty of it all captivated me. God, in His goodness, gave me a glimpse
of eternity as I gazed up through the trees and into the
heavenlies
.

I paused
to reflect on the splendorous interruption. “How do
You
do it, God?” I questioned. “How is it that everything you create is
so.
. .perfect?”

For a
moment, the wind seemed to offer a response. “I created you, too.”

 
Just the breeze, surely.
Nothing more.

I picked
up my pace once again, chugging along behind the puppy,
who
seemed to know just where I wanted to go. She led me to the end of the street
and turned toward town.

We passed
the Dairy Barn, where the lunch crowd swallowed down greasy fries and
artery-clogging burgers. We continued on past the coffee shop, where customers
nibbled at tasty baked goods, chased down by caramel mocha
frappuccinos
.

None
of that for me.
No
sir. I swallowed hard and kept walking, stopping only when I landed in front of
the new gym. Through the large panes of glass, I could see everything and
everyone. The folks inside looked energized, mesmerized, slenderized.

Aw,
who
was I kidding? They looked just plain awful. And I would
too, if I dared to join them. I grew weary just pondering my dilemma. Even a
really trendy sweat suit would do little to impress onlookers if the woman
wearing it passed out cold after just two minutes on the elliptical machine.

I pressed
my face against the window to have a closer look. What in the world? What was
Richard Blevins doing here, in the middle of the day? I glanced at my watch.
Twelve fifteen. Ah. He’s on his lunch break.
Interesting
midday activity.
Working off his guilt, perhaps?

My finely
tuned detective skills kicked in unannounced. It didn’t take long to remind
myself why this little episode with Richard felt strange. Just
yesterday—with tears in his eyes, I might add—my husband read
Richard’s resignation letter aloud to a room full of stunned Sunday school
class members. Turned out,
Richard and Judy weren’t just
stepping away from the class
,
they were leaving the
church
. Gone.
Like a puff of smoke.

But,
why?

I peered
a bit closer, eventually creating a haze on the glass with my breath. Even from
here, I could see the frustration etched on Richard’s face. He handled the
Stairmaster like a man possessed.

Yes, he
surely needed a sense of release from something.
But, what?
The situation with his wife, or something more?

I wanted
to go inside, wanted to follow him from machine to machine, in search of clues.
Wanted to ask him strategic questions. Wanted to find a way to pinpoint him as
the perpetrator. Wanted
to.
. .

Help me,
Lord.

With a
sigh, I came to recognize the truth. I wanted to exonerate my husband—to
free him from the cloud of guilt that hovered over him like the branches of
that old oak in my neighbor’s yard. I didn’t really want to incriminate anyone
else, especially not a good friend and Bible scholar. Chasing Richard Blevins
around the Co-Ed Fitness Center suddenly felt rather shameful.
And a little silly.

Besides,
I didn’t really want to sweat. Not with so much work awaiting me at home.

I glanced
down at Sasha, who had come to rest on the small grassy area to my right. “It’s
a pity I can’t go inside,” I told her. “But, alas, no pets allowed.”

I
secretly celebrated the fact. Honestly, I could hardly keep the grin from
curling up the edges of my lips. Perhaps I had known all along I wouldn’t carry
through with this ridiculous notion.

On the
other
hand.
. . . I looked through the window again.
It didn’t look so bad. And I really could stand to tone up a little. “Lord,” I
whispered to the skies, “If this is
Your
will—”

The
honking of a horn interrupted me and I turned as my son’s voice rang out
through the open window of our truck. “
Whatcha
doin
’, Mom?”

“What?
Oh, I—”

“Are you
joining the gym?” Devin pulled the truck to a stop, slammed it into park, and
leapt from the door like a gazelle loping across the meadow.

“I’m not
sure.”

His face lit
with more enthusiasm than I would have imagined possible for a
seventeen-year-old male. “I think you should. And, in fact,” he pointed to a
sign, “you should sign all of us up. They’ve got a great family plan and I’ve
been thinking about working out more, anyway. I need to stay in shape, you
know.” He flexed a muscle in his upper arm and gave me a wink.

“Ah.” I
couldn’t seem to force any more words to the surface. “Well, maybe someday.”

What is
it about sons? How do they melt the heart with a look? Devin flashed me that
“Aw, Mom” face and I dripped like butter through his fingers.

“The
special ends this afternoon,” he explained. “If we’re going to do it, we have
to do it.”

Sure
enough.
The sign on
the door proudly bore today’s date as the final day for the advertised price.
But how could I go inside with Sasha in tow?

As if
reading my mind, Devin scooped her up into his arms. “Go on, Mom. And don’t
worry about Sasha. I’ll take her home in the truck.”

Without
even asking my permission, he and my canine cohort took off and left me hanging
in the lurch.

I pulled
open the door and was met immediately by a young “Fitness Rep” as he called
himself.

Fitness
Rep, my eye. “Joey. I remember you.” He’d been in Devin’s Cub Scout troop, if
memory served me correctly.

Within
minutes, “Joey the Fitness Rep Extraordinaire” handed me a pen so that I could
sign on the dotted line. After a little coaching, I’d settled not for the
“regular” family membership, but the 24-hour Premium membership. Man, he was
good.

Or maybe
I was just gullible.

Just
before signing, I telephoned Warren, to ask his opinion. He seemed a little
surprised by my impulsive decision, but heartily agreed, even going so far as
to state, “We could all stand to lose a few pounds.”

At that
point, I passed my credit card off to Joey and the deed was done. Afterwards,
my new fitness rep ushered me into the small shop at the front of the center,
where I selected a cute workout outfit.
Navy blue with gray
stripes.
Not bad, not bad. Kind of reminded me of my junior high gym
suit. Maybe someday I would actually put it on.

As if
reading my thoughts, Joey pointed to the ladies’ changing area and encouraged
me to “dive right in.”

Dive
right in? Fifteen minutes ago, I’d been content to stare in the window. Now I
was supposed to forget every concern and climb aboard the fitness express?

I scoped
the room to see if I could locate Richard. Nope. Looked like he’d already
headed back to the bank. No one would be any the wiser. I really could exercise
without an audience. But, did I want to?

The title
of today’s lesson echoed loudly in my brain. A good investigator is in tip-top
shape.

And so I
did it. I donned the outfit. And with Joey’s expert assistance, I made the
rounds from machine to machine. Though I started off tentatively, my concerns
lifted in record time. In fact, my excitement grew with each new piece of
equipment. I felt so energized by the time I left that I practically sprinted
home, not even caring what the neighbors thought.