Married by Monday (Weekday Brides)

by Catherine Bybee

  He tapped the end of his cigarette against the ashtray and turned up the volume of the news.

  Eliza’s image flashed on the screen, and he upped the volume even more.

  She’d grown into a beautiful woman. Seeing her on the TV made him a little sick. It had been a few days since he’d seen Eliza and the news had backed off. Until today.

  “Gubernatorial candidate Carter Billings has taken a slight dip in the preliminary polls after the Texas brawl recorded last week. Even with the eyewitness account of Eliza Havens, the people aren’t ready to vote on such a young and unattached candidate. Billing’s rival in the polls, Darnell Arnold, wasted little time learning more about Miss Havens and holding a press conference of his own.”

  Dean left the cigarette in the tray and leaned forward in his seat. His fist clutched the remote and his eyes narrowed.

  “Seems Mr. Billings has been known to spend quite a bit of time with Eliza Havens. Some even say if Billings wins the election there may be a rare wedding of the newly elected governor while he’s in office. This assumption was vocalized in Mr. Arnold’s interviews.” The reporter cut out of the scene, and Arnold stood in front of several reporters. As usual, the politician didn’t talk politics, he talked crap and the people listened. Dean had been around enough years to identify bullshit when he heard it. It helped that he knew Eliza Havens better than anyone could.

  “What do we really know about Miss. Havens?” Arnold asked. “She might have several influential friends, foreign friends I might add, but it seems this woman appeared out of nowhere. There are no school records, no birth records. I’ve heard of politicians unknowingly hiring an illegal alien, but to elect a governor who might place an illegal as the first lady of our state should be avoided.”

  “Sonofabitch!” Dean yelled at the set. “She’s legal you ass-wipe.”

  The news ran footage of Eliza’s press conference as well as a few shots of her at various functions. Many of which she stood by Billing’s side. Most of the shots hid some of her face, but not all.

  One in particular reminded Dean of her mother. And if he noticed the similarities, so would others.

  The broadcast switched to another story, and Dean forced himself from his favorite chair before grabbing the phone. He hoped to hell Eliza wasn’t serious about this guy. He and Jim needed to convince her to disappear, and he knew from experience that getting the cooperation from women in love was like stopping a cockroach from snacking on a forgotten doughnut.

  Chapter Nine

  After a grueling workout full of kicks and punches Eliza forgot she knew how to throw, she managed to clear her mind enough to concentrate on only the objective facts of her life.

  Her mother and father had died nearly twenty years ago. Although she did resemble her mom in many ways, the chances of anyone finding out her true identity tilted the scale from slim to none. Yet Jim and Dean seemed more worried than they had reason to be. That begged more investigation.

  Eliza had been told never to whisper an ounce of truth about her life, or she stood the risk of putting others in danger. She was certain the cops meant the average Joe with minimal resources for security.

  Lucky for her, her Christmas card list was packed full of wealthy, influential individuals who had security details at their disposal. Much better than any state paid employee carrying a badge had available to their families. Lord knew that the cops often put their own families at risk when they busted big names in crime. That didn’t stop them from doing their jobs, and she sure as heck wasn’t going to walk away from the life she’d built for herself.

  Then there was Carter. Her stomach pitched thinking of his touch. He took his time and seduced her fully. Looking back she wasn’t sure why she’d let him. She’d been vulnerable, not in a normal state of mind. She supposed he knew that on some level and didn’t push her for more.

  She wouldn’t forget his mind-blowing kisses and her explosive response to him any time soon.

  The last thing he needed was a temporary girlfriend to tarnish his reputation while running for office. Their short trip on lover’s lane would have to be a standalone affair.

  Too bad. She wouldn’t mind exploring his other obvious bedroom talents. Maybe in five years, after the election and his term in office. That was, of course, if he didn’t pursue a wife during that time. Eliza wasn’t about to be the “other woman.”

  Eliza pulled down the busy two-lane road en route to Samantha and Blake’s home in Malibu. No one appeared to be following her, and the road in front was congested with summer traffic.

  Telling Gwen about the risk of moving in with her was a must. Chances were the British born lady wouldn’t risk the move no matter how much she craved adventure. Although in a weird way, Eliza would enjoy the other woman’s company. Running interference if Carter knocked on the door wouldn’t suck either.

  He’d left a short message on her cell phone telling her that he’d thought about her. Then he went on to say he needed to fly to D.C. for a couple of days. She didn’t want to be disappointed, but she was. One minute she wanted to see him, the next she didn’t. Dating in high school wasn’t this confusing.

  Eliza pulled up to the Harrison estate and buzzed the gate, all the while smiling at the camera pointed at her car. The slow hum of the motor opened the long levers and pulled the massive steel open wide enough for her car to pass. Once the gates closed, she continued up the drive.

  Mary, Samantha and Blake’s cook, met her at the door. “Samantha is putting Eddie down, she’ll be with you in a minute,” the older woman said.

  Eliza stepped into the grand foyer and set her purse and keys on a table. “Thanks, Mary.”

  “Do you want to wait in the kitchen or the den?”

  Usually Eliza would have joined Mary in the kitchen, but considering the sensitive nature of the pending conversation with Samantha, she thought it best to hide. “The den if you don’t mind.”

  A wave of uncertainty crossed Mary’s features, but she didn’t say a thing. “Of course. I’ll bring coffee.”

  “That would be great.”

  They both walked down the hall, but Eliza veered off to the main gathering room in the house. They had a formal living room but, like most homes in America, it was only used during the holidays and special occasions. The Harrison home should have felt cold and uninviting because of its sheer size. It wasn’t.

  In the corner of the den was a big plastic chest filled with Eddie’s toys. Several board books with tiny teeth marks covered the coffee table and at least one unidentified stain was smack dab in the middle of the sofa.

  Yep, even with all the money in the world a two-year-old ruled the house.

  Eliza sat on the couch and leaned back. Instantly a squeak sounded from behind her. She reached around and found a plush toy with an internal noisemaker.

  She laughed. Lord these things must drive the adults crazy after a day. Samantha had told her more than once to avoid noisy toys as gifts.

  Eliza stuck to the rules her best friend laid out, and Carter would always bring the biggest and noisiest toy. That past Christmas, Eddie responded to Carter’s gift with glee. Even with a short attention span, the little guy played with One Man Band playground for nearly an hour. It still took up a coveted spot in the child’s room.

  Eliza made a mental note to find an interactive noisemaker for the next holiday.

  She picked up a Dr. Seuss classic and thumbed through the pages.

  Footsteps sounded in the hall before Samantha strolled into the room. “I thought he’d never go down.”

  Eliza tossed the child’s book aside and smiled at her friend. “Naps are so boring,” she teased.

  “I don’t know about that. I’d love a nap.” Sam picked up a few scattered toys and tossed them into the toy box.

  “You don’t have to clean up for me.”

  “I’m cleaning up for me,” Sam said. “There’s an amazing home under all of this, and the only time I see it is when he’s sleeping
.”

  Eliza gazed around the room. The house was brilliant even with bright primary colors scattered about. Some of the breakables had been relocated to the top shelves or removed from the room altogether, but the Malibu mansion was fit for a duke, duchess, and a toddling little earl.

  Samantha fussed with the room’s mess for a minute or two before Mary returned with coffee and homemade cookies. Once Mary left, they talked about chocolate chip cookies, two-year-olds, and how far the kids could make the mess spread, before Sam finally sat down. “So…” Sam leaned forward, took a deep breath. “You’re not here to talk about cookies.”

  Eliza sat the coffee down. Her palms felt damp. “No. My plan was to come here and say goodbye.”

  “What?” Sam shouted.

  “Was…as in I’m not leaving.”

  Sam placed a hand over her chest and sat back. “Don’t do that.”

  “Sorry. I’m…this is hard. You keep some secrets so long that saying them out loud breathes new life into old haunts.”

  Sam reached over and placed a hand on Eliza’s knee. “You don’t have to tell me if it hurts too much. But I hope you know by now that any secret you want me to keep I will.”

  “I know. What I can tell you has to be in confidence. I don’t expect you to keep it from Blake or Gwen.” Or even Carter for that matter, but she left that unsaid. “It wouldn’t be fair for me to ask you to keep this from them. They need to know that being around me might be a risk.”

  Confusion spread over Samantha’s face, but she didn’t say anything. She relaxed and waited for Eliza to continue.

  “I was in the witness protection program… Well, I still am, technically. Though I’ve blown that with my appearance beside Carter a few days ago.”

  Sam opened her mouth and then closed it.

  “My father witnessed…” How much should she reveal? Enough to let Sam understand the risk of continuing her friendship. “A murder. A couple murders.” More like a massacre. Dead was dead, however and adding layers to that carnage would only bring misery. “I was nine. So what I’m telling you is what I’ve learned since. I didn’t see anything.” Which added to the frustration of living her entire life partially removed from the world.

  “You’ve never spoken of your parents,” Samantha said quietly. Patiently.

  Emotion rolled over Eliza in hot waves. She was never quick to tears but they were close. So very close.

  “My parents did the right thing. My father couldn’t live with himself.” She stood now and started to move. She picked up a small red plush toy that sat on a chair. “He turned state’s witness. We didn’t have much, so walking away from our life didn’t bother them as much as it might some. I guess, in that, I was grateful. It wasn’t like my grandparents lived close by. My father’s dad might still be alive somewhere. I’m told my mom’s parents are gone.”

  “Where are your parents?” Samantha asked after a long pause.

  Eliza sent her a wry smile and shook her head. “We were careful. But not careful enough.”

  Sam pulled in a quick breath as the reality sunk in.

  “I’ve been alone for a long time. Living in one anonymous state run dump after another. I moved often, just in case someone watched. The two cops that showed up at Carter’s press conference were assigned to my case when I was sixteen. I’m not in trouble with the law. My only crime is stupidity.”

  Eliza pushed the hands of the toy over the eyes on the head. See nothing. Be nothing.

  “If you knew helping Carter was a risk, why do it?”

  “It was the right thing to do. I’m the one who suggested to Gwen that we go to that bar. I knew the guys flirting with us were edgy.” Eliza released a long-suffering sigh and continued. “I felt responsible. I couldn’t stand by and let Carter’s campaign slide into the dark abyss without trying to help.”

  “He would have understood.”

  “Maybe. It doesn’t matter. Seems the media has pegged me for an illegal at this point. I may have decreased his chances of getting into office instead of helping.” All the risk was for nothing.

  There was a moment of silence.

  “Why did you want to run again?”

  Eliza sat the stuff animal on the bookshelf before turning to her friend. “Dean and Jim, the detectives, made certain I remembered why I was in hiding. The man who murdered my parents is still alive, Sam. In jail, but not unconnected. He has an extended family who would love revenge.”

  “Revenge on a child who had nothing to do with his incarceration?”

  “Dillinger and Capone might strike a pose for a good Hollywood movie, but they were animals who didn’t leave families unharmed. Their threat is what scared people into keeping their lips shut. There are many Capones out there. They come in all nationalities. All ages. The guy gunning for me made it clear that he’d find me. That it was his mission in life to eliminate my father’s seed from this earth. There’s no reason to think he’s found God and has changed his mind.”

  “How old were you when your parents died?”

  “Nine.”

  Unlike Eliza, Sam was known to shed tears. They now welled behind her eyes. “Oh, Eliza. I’m sorry. What kind of friend am I that I never knew any of this?”

  Eliza smiled and tried to joke. “Carter might look like he belongs in Hollywood, but I’m the better actor.”

  Sam blinked back tears and forced a smile. She stood and walked over to Eliza. “I don’t know if I should be mad that you didn’t tell me this earlier or honored that you trust me enough now.”

  “It’s a burden, Sam. Knowing me can be dangerous.”

  “You don’t know that for sure or you would have run.”

  Eliza nodded. Maybe. “I might still. But at least you’ll know why. I’d hate it if you disappeared and I never knew why.”

  “Don’t say that. You’re not going anywhere.”

  “I don’t want to.”

  Sam frowned. “You’re not. You have friends who are capable of protecting themselves and you.”

  Eliza leveled her gaze at Sam sighed. “I’m counting on that. If you didn’t have means, I wouldn’t have come here today.” She wanted safety for Sam and her family more than for herself. At least that was what Eliza wanted to believe.

  ****

  “Harry?” The guard called his name from a few feet away. In his hands was a newspaper rolled into a tube and secured with a rubber band. “I have more wallpaper for you.”

  Harry smiled as Devin approached, wondering what news the paper would bring now. Each and every day in prison morphed into the next with nothing to look forward to. Word from the outside was the only sunshine available.

  Many of the criminals he’d been incarcerated with had a family member or two who would visit on occasion. Not Harry. He’d destroyed his family and any hope of seeing the remaining members ever again with his greed and selfishness. If and when he made parole he didn’t have the right to search out his daughters.

  Harry stood and extended his hand for the paper. “Thanks,” he offered the guard.

  Devin shrugged and walked away.

  A low hum of anticipation brought a spark of warmth deep inside. Instead of opening the paper on the closest table, Harry opted for a little solitude and walked up the flight of stairs to his cell. There was still thirty minutes before the inmates were forced to their over-crowded bunks and barred rooms. But Harry would gladly give up the little bit of freedom for a glimpse of his grandson.

  His two other cellmates weren’t occupying their small space when Harry sat on his bunk and opened the paper. He skipped the front page and the financials and went straight to the Entertainment section. He blew out a sigh when he saw them. A wedding party with bride, groom, and a handful of attendants. In the groom’s arms was a toddler, smiling for the camera. Harry’s gaze landed on a young woman in a wheelchair as his thumb stroked the picture. If only he could make her whole.

  Regret clogged his throat.

  A buzzer sounded in the bu
ilding, signaling the end of their free time. Less than a minute later, Lester and Ricardo returned to the cell.

  Lester had bunked with Harry for a couple of years. He was quiet most of the time, except when he stopped taking his meds and ran on the manic side of his personality. Like Harry, Lester was doing time for fraud. He’d been caught stealing the identity of unsuspecting small business owners and cleaning out their accounts. He wasn’t violent, which worked well with Harry.

  Ricardo had joined their room only a few months earlier. He was built like a linebacker, so Harry kept his distance. The man said very little unless it was with his fist. Harry didn’t trust him and could only guess what he was in for. In the early days of Harry’s imprisonment, the violent felons weren’t kept in the same cell blocks with those like him. Budget cuts and a lack of state funding for the prison system forced all offenders in with each other.

  Harry was no slouch. He stood at over six-feet tall and never missed a meal. He wasn’t a fool, however, and never thought for a minute he’d stand a chance in a fistfight with Ricardo.

  “Whatcha got, Harry?” Lester asked as he squeezed between the tiny space beside the bunks. “Oh, are those your girls?” Lester had seen other pictures and knew some of Harry’s story.

  “Yeah.”

  “The baby is getting big.”

  Ricardo slid a glance over his shoulder and took in the page. “I thought your daughter was already married.”

  “She is.”

  On the top of the page, the article said the couple was renewing their wedding vows. Harry pointed to the title and let the reporter’s words do the job of explaining what the picture depicted.

  Ricardo started to turn away, and then stopped himself to take a closer look.

  Harry felt the need to pull the paper aside but refrained himself.

  “Friends of the bride?” Ricardo asked, pointing to the others in the picture.

  “I guess,” Harry said, not knowing any of the people in the pictures personally. He recognized the names, but not the faces.