One Hex of a Wedding Page 4

  SATURDAY BROUGHT MORE sunshine and a surprise transformation. Randa had gussied up for my bridal shower. She was dressed in a floral sundress, and shock of shocks, she was wearing makeup. A pale sparkle of ivory highlighted her eyes, and a thin sheen of pink gloss shimmered on her lips.

  “Honey, you look gorgeous!” I broke into a smile and was suddenly aware that her sundress complemented my own forest green one. I’d decided to go for simple yet elegant, and paired the afternoon frock with jeweled sandals and Rose’s crystal necklace, which I’d decided to wear every day until the wedding. Like a good luck charm. As I started to fasten it, I hesitated. Maybe the gold chain would be better? But Rose’s feelings would be hurt. I shook my head and finished getting ready.

  She blushed. “Well, you know Great-Grandma and Gramms are going to be taking pictures. I thought it might be nice if we matched.”

  I pulled her to my side and kissed her cheek. “Thank you, sweetie. Let’s get moving. Your grandpa is taking Kip out to lunch and then they’re going shopping. They’ll meet us after the shower, and we’ll all drive out to Jimbo’s for the barbecue, so make sure you have your swimsuit with you.”

  We were meeting at Murray’s house. As my maid of honor, it was her duty to throw my shower and I trusted her not to embarrass me with anything like a stripper or stupid party games. After the shower the menfolk would meet us, and we’d head out together to the barbecue.

  Murray owned a huge old Victorian on Sunrise Avenue, next to the largest park in Chiqetaw. She had taken the fixer-upper from dump to divine over the six years that she’d owned it. The old house now sported a pale pink exterior with gingerbread trim in brilliant white. Flower boxes graced the windows and she’d painted them a brilliant crimson. They were filled with ferns and other perennials that provided a startling contrast to the red and pink.

  “What’s that?” Randa asked as we climbed the steps to the front porch.

  I glanced to where she was pointing. There was a large white envelope with the name ANNA typed on it sitting on one of the benches by the door. I picked it up. “Must be some mail that she dropped or something,” I said, though I noticed there was neither a stamp nor an address on the envelope.

  As we entered the house, I steeled myself. I loved parties; however, coffee klatches and the like had never been my strong suit, even though I was able to pull off a high tea at the Chintz ’n China without blinking an eye. But I’d never been the guest of honor there, and here all focus would be on me.

  I pulled Murray aside and gave her the envelope. “Here, we found this on the front porch. Listen, where are Sid and Nancy? Grandma M. will have a heart attack for real if one of them drops down on her.” Sid and Nancy were Murray’s boas, and at times they had free run of the house.

  She grinned, opening the envelope to pull out a card. “Already thought of. They’re locked away in their tanks. But I think you’re underestimating her. She was tapping on the glass, talking to Sid a few minutes ago.”

  I stared at her. “You’ve got to be kidding.” Grandma M. had a fit if she found cobwebs in the attic. But Mur wasn’t listening. She was staring at the card and she didn’t look happy. “What is it? Bad news?”

  Paling, she shook her head and dropped the card on the desk. “Just something I didn’t want to see. I’d better go check on the hors d’oeuvres.”

  As she disappeared into the kitchen, I wrestled with my conscience for all of fifteen seconds, then picked up the card and flipped it open. Something had been bothering Murray lately, and I didn’t like the pall that had come over her face when she read it.

  The card itself had a simple but pretty pattern on the front, but inside, in the center, rested a square piece of paper smaller than the card itself. On the piece of paper were five words in block printing: I know you love me.

  The back of my neck began to tingle and I slowly replaced the card on the desk, sorry I’d snooped. Jimbo hadn’t sent the card to her. I knew that without even having to ask. That begged the question: Who did?

  And the answer was . . . none of my business, unless and until Murray decided to confide in me. Preoccupied by the thought that Mur had gotten herself into trouble of some sort, I joined the party.

  By the time we were halfway through, I was ready to pack it up and go home. First, my mother and grandmother alternately took the opportunity to pass around embarrassing pictures of me from when I was a baby. At least they had the good graces to avoid any mention of my first bridal shower, which had been far more upscale and attended by a number of Roy’s friends from college. Even back then, he had exerted an influence over me as to who I should and shouldn’t hang out with.

  The party theme was lingerie, and I received everything from demure silk pajamas from my Grandma M. to a racy Victoria’s Secret teddy from Harlow. Gift baskets of soaps and bath salts also abounded, and I grinned as I held up a crimson baby doll nightie.

  “I think some of these gifts are more for Joe than for me,” I said.

  “Yeah, but you’ll reap the benefits of his appreciation,” said Cinnamon, one of my employees at the shop. Over the past few years the younger woman and I’d become friends. And with that, we broke for cake and punch.

  I’d just finished my second slice of cake when I noticed Rose pouring herself another glass of wine. I’d broken down and accepted a small glass, but after my champagne-induced vertigo from the night before, I was sticking to the fruit punch. Rose, however, looked like she’d tippled more than she could handle. She dropped onto the sofa and stared at the pile of boxes and bows.

  “Why aren’t there any games? It’s not a shower until we dress you up in a toilet paper wedding dress!” She belched, giving me a ladylike “oh” of surprise.

  “I don’t want any games,” I said. “I’m grateful Murray didn’t plan any. Can’t we just enjoy the afternoon together without any silliness?”

  Rose leaned forward, waggling her finger. She tried to whisper but evidently her sense of hearing was as off as her equilibrium because her voice echoed in the large living room and conversation dropped to a dead silence when she said, “Speaking of Anna-banana, why on earth did you choose her to be your maid of honor? I’m your sister. You should have asked me.”

  Murray glanced at me and I flushed, embarrassed. I bit my lip and made a drinking motion. Mur nodded and headed into the kitchen to make coffee. Everybody in the room had paused, but now they followed Murray’s lead and suddenly became busy again, chatting, eating, picking up crumpled paper and ribbons.

  I turned to Rose and lowered my voice. “We hardly ever talk. You never come visit, and you never ask me to visit you. I had no idea you wanted to be my matron of honor.” I’d asked her, along with Harlow and Randa, to be one of my bridesmaids, never dreaming that she’d be jealous of Murray.

  She sniffled—her equivalent of a sob—and placed her hand on her heart. “Well, it hurts.”

  I glanced around the room and waved my mother and Grandma M. over. “I swear, I had no idea she’d react this way,” I said.

  Klara, my mother, shook her head. “Rose was always too sensitive—”

  “You think it’s too sensitive to have your feelings hurt when your own sister doesn’t include you in her wedding party?” Leave it to Grandma McGrady to take Rose’s part. She always had.

  “I’d call being a bridesmaid being in the wedding party. She knew perfectly well that Murray was going to be the maid of honor and she never said a word before today,” Klara retorted.

  Grandma M. glared at her. “Perhaps she’d talk to you more if you hadn’t spent her childhood working. Instead, the poor darling had to come to me—”

  “Poor darling my ass!” One thing I’d give my mother: she didn’t take bull off of anybody. “Nanna looked after both Rose and Emerald without a problem the entire time. The girls didn’t suffer a bit. You’ve just never been able to accept that your son married a German girl while he was overseas—”

  “He never even told us he was getting m
arried—”

  I’d had enough. The old arguments were making their way to the surface and unless I wanted World War III to erupt in Murray’s living room, I had to put a stop to the bickering.

  “Will you two give it a rest?” My mother and Grandma M. stared at me as if I’d suddenly grown horns or a beak or something. “I will not have you turning my bridal shower into a battle zone. Last night was bad enough with Roy’s antics. I refuse to accept an instant replay from my own relatives.”

  Klara sighed, loud and deep, while Grandma M. ignored me and focused her attention on Rose, who was sobbing now.

  “I’m sorry,” Rose said. “It’s just so hard, seeing you happy and in love, especially now that Charles is moving out.”

  Say what? Rose and Charley had been married for fifteen years. I’d never once heard rumors of trouble between the two. I was about to ask what she was talking about when I felt a gentle hand on my arm. White Deer, Murray’s aunt—who happened to be a medicine woman in her tribe—nodded me aside.

  “Can it wait?” I asked. “My sister—”

  “I heard, and I know you need to talk to her, but I have to tell you something.” When we were off to one side, she leaned close and cupped her hand around my ear. “Emerald, I sense a lot of chaos around you today. I don’t know what it is or where it’s coming from, but whatever the source, I’d be careful if I were you. I can’t tell if it’s in your aura or just hanging around, but I think a psychic leech might have taken up residence.”

  I frowned. “I’ve been really dizzy since last night, but I thought it was the champagne. Since I don’t usually drink, my system goes into mild shock when I do. I just hope it’s not something like Mr. Big & Ugly again. I’ve been so frantic over wedding arrangements and family squabbles that I haven’t even had a chance to check out my aura lately.”

  “Okay, but don’t forget. Whatever it is sure caught my notice.”

  The doorbell rang and Murray hurried to answer it. My father, Kip, and James were standing there, shopping bags in hand. I glanced at the clock. They were half an hour early, but at this rate, I was just anxious to get the party over with.

  Rose had recovered enough to be escorted to the bathroom. I joined her, sitting on the edge of Murray’s peach-colored tub while my sister splashed her face with water and redid her makeup.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were having problems?” I asked.

  She shrugged. “I was hoping it would blow over, I guess. Charles has been fooling around with his secretary, and I gather she’s pregnant now. He’s going to leave me and marry the little tramp.”

  That hit a little too close to home. The only differences between my former situation and Rose’s were that Tyra hadn’t been pregnant when Roy had been screwing around with her. At least Rose didn’t have children—that would have made it ten times worse. “I’m so sorry. What are you going to do?”

  She shrugged. “Soak him for all I can get, sell the house, move. Maybe I’ll go to New York. Maybe I’ll travel. I don’t know yet. All I do know at this point is that I’m going to make him pay through the pocketbook.” She patted her face with a tissue. “Damned laugh lines. Did you know that I’m already four Botox injections into my attempt to halt time?”

  Rose was a year and a half younger than I was. That she was already shooting away the wrinkles worried me. “Are you going to be okay, sis?”

  She shrugged, then broke into a cheerless smile. “I have to be, don’t I? What other option is there? By the way, I’m sorry about that little scene out there. Of course you wouldn’t ask me to be your matron of honor. Why should you? I’ve never bothered to try and be anything more than a distant relation.” When I started to protest she stopped me. “Don’t bother. It’s the truth and I know it. But maybe that can change.” She paused in the rearrangement of her hair to turn and clasp my hands. “What do you think? Maybe we can be friends?”

  I pulled her in for a hug. “Of course, Rosy. Of course we can. But Murray’s still my maid of honor, so will you be okay with that?”

  She nodded, giving me a muffled “Uh-huh.”

  I pushed her back, bracing her by the shoulders. “Now come on. We’ve got a barbecue to go to. You haven’t tasted anything until you’ve had some of Jimbo’s home cooking.”

  She snickered and I caught a resemblance to myself in her face. “He and Anna make quite the couple, all right. You know, she’s come a long way since you two were in college together. Okay, let’s go get greasy with some ribs.”

  Everybody who wasn’t going to the barbecue had left their best wishes and been ushered out. Murray raised one eyebrow when Rose walked over to her and apologized for her outburst, but she assured my sister that everything was fine. Grandma M. was fretting about how long it would take to get out to Jimbo’s and whether or not he’d have any comfortable chairs, and my mother had enlisted Randa to help her rush around, making sure the gifts and party favors were packed in the car.

  We were just about to set out when the doorbell rang. Mur opened it and I heard an exclamation of surprise before she led Deacon into the room. I waved at him, but the smile died on my face. Something was wrong. I could feel it. I slowly approached him, my gaze fastened on his.

  Murray rushed up to my side and I knew then that it was bad. “What’s going on?” I asked, somehow able to find my voice in the thundering fear that was pounding through me. “Joe? Did something happen to Joe?”

  Deacon closed his eyes for a brief second, then said, “You’re needed at the hospital, Emerald. Jimbo and Joe were out in the meadow, getting ready for the barbecue, when somebody decided to take a potshot at them. Joe was hit by one of the bullets. I don’t know how bad it is, though he was conscious when the ambulance took him away. Jimbo’s at the hospital with him now.”

  Mute, unable to think except for the refrain running through my mind that Joe’s been shot, Joe’s been shot, I felt somebody press my purse into my hands as Deacon and Murray led me to the squad car, where Deacon pulled out all the stops. Sirens screaming, we were on our way to the hospital, where I would find out if Joe—the man who I could no longer imagine living without—was going to be alive for our wedding.

  Three

  THE AFTERNOON SUN seemed terribly out of place as we sped along to the hospital. It should be raining and stormy, dark as my mood. Deacon tried to reassure me but until I heard word from the doctor that Joe was okay, nothing in the world could help.

  “The fact that he was conscious is a good thing, Emerald. It really is,” he said, maneuvering down Saddleback Street as cars pulled to the right to get out of our way. “He’ll be okay.”

  “Who shot him?” I asked. “What the hell happened?”

  “I don’t know. Greg and Sandy were there when I got there. The minute I found out what happened, I took off to let you know.” He fell silent, concentrating on the road.

  I stared at my hands. My left hand in particular. The brilliant-cut diamond in Black Hills gold weighed heavy on my ring finger, reminding me of just how much I had to lose. Until I met Joe, I never expected to find someone who’d ever love me the way he did. Whom I’d ever love as much as I loved him. Sure, I’d loved Roy in the beginning, but he returned it with anger and taunts, with so many strings attached that I began to believe I wasn’t worthy of love. There were a few dalliances after I left him, but nobody really special. Not until the lanky young EMT had serendipitously fallen into my life. I didn’t want to lose him. Not now. Not ever.

  “He’s got to be okay, Deacon. He’s got to be okay.”

  Deacon remained silent, but I could feel his concern reaching out to me, covering me like a soft comforter on a cold night.

  I’D BEEN IN the hospital all too often over the past eighteen months, both for my own injuries and those of family and friends. The path of a cosmic crime-fighter didn’t run smoothly, and I was weary of the worries that attended the dubious honor.

  I bolted from the car and rushed inside the moment Deacon pulled up to th
e entrance of the ER. As I entered the doors, my feet stopped working and I found myself paralyzed, terrified of what I might hear. Then a firm, familiar presence slipped up behind me and warm arms wrapped themselves around my shoulders. I leaned back against Jimbo’s chest, enveloped by the scent of leather and dirt and hickory smoke.

  “Tell me he’s okay. For God’s sake, tell me he’s alive.” Biting my lip, I held my breath until he spoke.

  “He’s alive, that much I know. I don’t think he’s in danger, O’Brien. The doctors will be out as soon as they know what’s going on. He caught a bullet in the shoulder; I don’t think he got hit any other place.” He leaned down and pressed his lips against the top of my head, much like I did when Kip was afraid. For a rough and tumble biker, he could be pretty tender. Jimbo was a good friend and I knew he wouldn’t lie to me.

  I looked up at him. He looked haggard and was covered with soot and dirt. I pushed myself away, turning to examine him. Reddish splotches stained his shirt. Blood. I reached out, hesitant. “Is that—”

  He glanced down. “Joe’s. Come on, let’s get you to the front desk.” He took my hand and, leading me like a little girl, he fielded our way through the bustle of nurses and patients till we stood by the front desk. “This is Joe Files’ fiancée.”

  The nurse looked up from her chart and her eyes flickered with recognition. It was Wilma Velcox. She’d helped Kip when I had to bring him in for a broken arm. “Ms. O’Brien. You’re Mr. Files’ fiancée?”

  “Yeah. Is he going to be okay?”

  She closed the file she was holding, set it to one side, and stood. “You must be frantic. I’ll have someone come talk to you in just a moment. Sir, if you could take her over to the waiting area—”