by Merry Jones
“Maybe, with everything that’s happened, we should, I don’t know, postpone the wedding?”
His hand moved away from my arm. He looked away, then back to me. He propped himself up on an elbow, then sat up. “Postpone it? Why?” He looked lost.
Susan had been right. I shouldn’t have suggested it. Nick was hurt. He didn’t understand. “You don’t want to get married?”
“Of course I do.” It was true. I did. I wanted to be Mrs. Nick Stiles. “But I don’t want the wedding to be blown up—”
He smiled his half smile, relieved. “Nobody’s going to blow us up.”
“But Tony should lie low, shouldn’t he? What if—”
In a heartbeat, Nick leaned over, covering my mouth with his, stopping me mid-syllable. His lips were tender, his kiss steady and deep. It spoke for him, assuring me that we were, that we would be, all right.
With Luke between us, Nick and I lay face-to-face, and I listened to him tell me that we’d waited long enough for the wedding. The pregnancy and Luke’s birth had delayed it. A hefty chunk of the Philadelphia police force had been invited, so we would be safe. And besides, all the plans had been made, nonrefundable deposits paid. Besides all of that, he was half-Jewish.
He said that he was half-Jewish as if it held the final word about our wedding. “What does being Jewish have to do with it?” We weren’t having a religious ceremony. A friend of Nick’s, a judge, was going to marry us.
“In Jewish tradition, life take precedence over death.”
Wait. Life over death? What? Again, he seemed to think he’d made sense. “Okay.” I had no idea what he meant.
He propped himself on an elbow. “It’s like this. Celebrations of life don’t get shoved aside or postponed or canceled because of events of death. Or even threats of death. A wedding is a life celebration. It’s not to be delayed. Even if one of our immediate family were to die, the wedding would proceed. Life takes precedence over death.”
Oh. I gazed at Nick, marveling. I’d lived with this man for over a year. I’d had his child. And, until this moment, I hadn’t had the slightest idea that his religious heritage had meant a thing to him. Even now, I had no idea if he held any religious beliefs or what they might be. It was startling, alarming. Shouldn’t we know that about each other? What else didn’t I know about him, or he about me? In so many ways, we were still strangers. Were we really ready to get married?
Luke squealed happily, holding his feet in the air, grabbling them with pudgy hands. And I looked from the baby to the father, his familiar scar, his asymmetrical smile, his cool and knowing blue eyes. It was a face etched into my being. I had come to rely on it, had tethered my heart to its expressions. If Nick wanted the wedding, we would have it as planned. After all, he and Susan both thought the wedding should proceed, and he and Susan couldn’t both be wrong. They wouldn’t want us to go ahead unless they were sure it was safe.
SIXTY-THREE
I TOSSED ALL NIGHT, didn’t fall asleep until almost dawn. And as soon as I did, Luke blared like a trusty alarm clock, waking up, wanting breakfast. By the time he’d been fed and changed, Molly was up and my opportunity for rest had disappeared. Fortunately, I was too tired to think. I wandered through the morning on autopilot, putting on the coffeemaker, getting the newspaper and taking Oliver out, giving him his kibble and Molly a bowl of cereal and some juice, letting her watch television as she ate as long as it didn’t wake up her uncles. It wasn’t until the doorbell rang and Anna arrived, spinning a whirlwind of frenetic energy, that I woke up enough to realize what day it was. It was Friday. The day before the wedding. Oh God. I sat on a kitchen stool, my heart pounding in my throat.
This was it. I was getting married, committing myself to Nick for life. Memories swirled in my mind of my other wedding, the first time I’d committed myself to a man for life. That was different, I told myself. That was a mistake. But, at the time, I hadn’t thought it was a mistake. I’d been sure of Michael and me, hadn’t I? When I’d married Michael, I’d intended to spend my life with him, get old together, raise kids, the whole shebang. But look what had happened. Michael hadn’t been who I’d thought he was, or maybe I hadn’t been who he’d thought I was. Or maybe we’d both been who we’d thought, but both of us had changed. Or maybe we hadn’t known each other well enough to know who either of us was. At any rate, the end had come, and it had been brutal. A disaster, really. I hadn’t recovered, hadn’t even dated anyone for years afterward. In fact, Nick was the first man I’d seen seriously after Michael. So, in a way, I’d met Nick on the rebound. How could I be sure this time was right? I’d known Michael for years before marrying him, and that marriage had failed. By contrast, I hardly knew Nick—we’d met not even two years before.
Okay, I told myself. Stop right now. It’s too late to think about your decision. Your wedding is planned. Floral arrangements have been purchased. You love Nick, and Luke and Molly are both counting on him being their dad. And besides, this wedding is completely unrelated to your prior one. You’re older now, wiser. More mature. Your choice is based on more solid factors. Now breathe deeply and get hold of yourself.
I took a few deep breaths from my belly, trying to slow my heart rate. But solid factors? What the hell were those? I didn’t even know what my own words meant. Oh God. My pulse was doing double time. And Anna was jabbering, handing me something. Oh. A mug—good. Maybe it was full of Scotch. But no, it wasn’t Scotch. It was steaming and smelled like decaf.
“…but it’s normal; it happens to all my brides.” Anna was in the middle of a thought. I hadn’t been paying attention. “You’re going to think you’re nervous. Even terrified. But trust me, dear, you’re not nervous or terrified. Those bells in your head are not sounding the alarm; they’re announcing your wedding.”
Bells? What? Could she tell by looking at me? Did my edginess show? I took a sip of hot coffee. My hand was unsteady. Did she see that I was shaking? But the coffee tasted a watery kind of familiar. Grounding.
“Remember: It’s just adrenaline.”
Adrenaline? In the coffee?
“Humans are animals, dear. When we face the unusual or the unknown, we secrete hormones that alert us so we can prepare ourselves.”
The fight-or-flight response. It was a basic principle in which hormones prepare animals for aggression or escape. But wait, what had I missed? Why was Anna giving me a psychology lesson? I was a therapist; my event planner was lecturing me on psychology?
“Look. Athletes get rushes of adrenaline before a game, soldiers before battle, actors before a performance. Adrenaline makes you jittery. Gives you butterflies, maybe a little nausea. It feels like fear, but it’s not. It’s excitement. Arousal. It’s the body gearing itself up. Getting itself ready, saying to itself: ‘Listen up. Something big is happening.’”
Okay. I got it. Something big was happening.
“So, here’s what I want you to do.” Anna had a hand on my shoulder. “I’ve got the kids covered, and I’ll handle the men. If the phone rings, I’ll answer. You go upstairs and take a bath or a nap. Pamper yourself. In a while, I’ll bring you some breakfast on a tray.”
I had no excuses. I was tired, and although I didn’t want to let my children out of my sight, I knew they were safe with everyone in the house.
Anna kept talking, her voice less cloying than usual, more rhythmic, almost soothing. “The rehearsal dinner isn’t until seven. The rehearsal’s at five. You have nothing to do until then. Go.”
And so I thanked Anna, told Molly I was taking a nap and went upstairs, back to bed. Nick was still sleeping. Without opening his eyes, he reached out, covering me with his arm. And I lay there, feeling its strength and thinking about the word husband until I drifted off.
SIXTY-FOUR
“I’LL BE BACK AS soon as I can.”
I opened my eyes. Nick’s mouth brushed mine, saying goodbye. I blinked, trying to orient myself.
“What?”
Nick was dressed. P
utting his wallet in his back pocket, going somewhere.
“Where are you going?”
He half-smiled. “You didn’t hear anything I just said, did you?”
“Did you say something?”
He smiled again, sat beside me on the bed, smoothing my hair with his hand. “Schultz wants to see me. And Tony got another phone call, so I’ve got to go in for a bit.”
We looked at each other as I woke up, becoming coherent. “But you’re not working. You took time off. Today’s our rehearsal—”
“I know. I’m sorry. This won’t take long.”
“And you said we’d all stay together—”
“I know. But I have no choice, Zoe. Besides, Sam and Tony are here. And Anna. Nobody’s going to mess with you while she’s around. And I’ll be back in a couple of hours at the most.”
A couple of hours? I had no idea when that was. “What time is it?” I lifted my head to see the clock.
“A little after noon.”
What? I’d slept for almost five hours. I rubbed my eyes, sat up, felt groggy. Almost drugged.
“You okay?” Nick stood, putting on a blazer, ready to go.
I nodded, not quite sure. “Just can’t wake up.”
“Take your time. Rest. I’ll see you later.” Nick kissed me again and was out the door.
The next thing I knew, Molly was on the bed, shaking me. “Mom. Luke’s crying.”
My eyes refused to open.
“Mom. Wake up. He’s hungry.”
Luke was hungry? At the thought, my nipples began to leak. I forced my eyes open. Molly sat beside me, frantic.
“Oh, finally. I thought you’d never wake up. I’ve been trying to get you up for like ever.”
“What?” Down the hall, I heard Luke wailing. I sat up. Oops, too fast. The walls began to sway, and I fell back onto the pillows.
“Mom? Are you sick?” Molly’s eyebrows furrowed.
“I’m okay.” I tried again, slower this time. And I tousled her curls and, kissing her forehead, wobbled to my feet. “Coming, Luke.”
I felt off-balance, and my voice sounded like sandpaper. What was wrong with me? Was I getting sick? Great, I thought. Just in time for the wedding, I’ll get some kind of flu or malaria. But Molly held my hand all the way down the hall, steadying me. At the sight of me, Luke became furious. Red-faced, angry that lunch was late, he bellowed.
“I’ll get him, Mom. You sit down.”
For once, I simply let Molly take care of him. My limbs felt weak, and I was afraid I might drop him if I tried to pick him up. So I obeyed, sitting in the rocking chair, watching Molly lower the side of the crib and lift her brother, holding him a little too tight, carrying him to me.
“It’s okay, Lukie,” she was saying. “Mommy’s here.” But his screaming pretty much drowned out her voice.
He pounced on my nipple, and finally the room was quiet.
“Thanks for getting me up, Molls. I can’t believe I slept so long.”
“You slept all day.”
“Why didn’t somebody wake me?”
“Anna wouldn’t let us. She said you needed to rest.”
Why would Anna say that? She shouldn’t decide what I needed. “Where is Anna?” In fact, where was everybody? I hadn’t seen or heard Tony and Sam all day. “And what time is it?”
Molly looked at the wall behind me, at a dinosaur with an analog clock in his belly. “Two …something. Wait. If the big hand is between the five and the six, then …Wait. Don’t tell me—”
Good Lord. I’d slept until two thirty? I never slept all day. And I felt so odd, so fuzzy.
“—Does that mean it’s two thirty?”
My genius. “Yes—very good, Molls.” But how had I slept so long? Since when? About eight?
“I thought you’d sleep forever.”
“You thought I was like Sleeping Beauty?”
“Well, no, because she had a poisoned apple.”
I remembered Anna holding out a steaming cup. Had Anna slipped something into it? No. She wouldn’t. Would she?
“And that’s just a story.”
But she’d been talking about her brides, about keeping them calm. Could she have given me a sleeping pill? No. How could I even think such a thing? She wouldn’t. Especially since I was nursing. A sleeping pill would affect the baby.
“But even if you got poisoned, Nick could kiss you awake. He’s your Prince Charming.”
Speaking of Prince Charming, where was he? “Is Nick home yet?”
“Uh-uh.”
No? “Has he called?”
“I don’t think so.”
But he’d said he’d be gone a couple of hours at the most. I wondered what had happened, what was taking so long.
“Mom, could Emily sleep over tonight?”
“What?” The question surprised me.
“Anna said she was watching me and Luke because you and Nick and everybody are going out to dinner.”
“That’s right.”
“So could Emily stay with us?”
“Not tonight, Molls.”
“Why? Pleeeeeze.”
I explained about the wedding rehearsal, told her that she would have to go and practice being flower girl and that then Anna would take her and Luke home. But since Emily wasn’t going to be part of the wedding, she wouldn’t be at the rehearsal and wouldn’t be there to take home.
“So she could come after.”
“Mollybear, no. It’s not convenient tonight.”
“Why? Susan could bring her over.”
“But Susan and Tim are going to be with us at the rehearsal and they are staying afterward for the dinner. Besides, I already said no. Another time. Tomorrow’s the wedding.”
Molly pouted, thinking. “So, you mean, she can sleep over after the wedding?”
“Of course.”
“You mean tomorrow night?”
Was she serious?
“Can she?”
Good Lord. On my wedding night, I was going to be arranging sleepovers. But what was the harm? Nick and I would be staying at the hotel, and Anna probably wouldn’t mind watching one more child. “Okay, I’ll talk to Anna and Susan.”
Molly clapped her hands. “Yes! Thank you, Mom. I’m going to go call her.”
“Molly, wait—” But she was already gone.
Oh Lord. I closed my eyes, leaning my head back against the rocking chair. Why couldn’t I seem to wake up? And what was keeping Nick so long?
SIXTY-FIVE
NICK WALKED IN AT four-fifteen. Our rehearsal was scheduled for five. We’d have to leave by four-thirty to be on time. Everyone was assembled in the living room: Anna, Luke, who was sleeping deeply, Molly, Oliver and Tony. Sam had gone ahead to change in his hotel room.
“Finally. I’ve been calling you.” Tony was frantic. “I had to talk to you. Why didn’t you pick up? I was scared to death something happened to you.”
As was I, but I didn’t say so. I was too annoyed. Nick always turned his phone off when he didn’t want to be interrupted.
“I couldn’t take any calls.” Nick seemed distracted, not hurried enough. He looked from face to face. Oliver yipped at Nick’s shoes; Nick stooped to pet him.
We were supposed to leave in fifteen minutes, and Nick was playing with the puppy.
“Nick. Are you aware of the time?” Anna stood, looking at her wristwatch. “You have exactly fourteen minutes to change and be out the door. We are leaving at precisely four-thirty.” She looked as if she was ready to change his clothes herself.
“Don’t worry. I’ll be showered and ready.” He reached into his blazer pocket, removed something and dropped it on Tony’s lap. “Here.”
Molly jumped off the sofa to see what Tony had, no doubt assuming it was a present. “What is it, Tony?”
Tony picked up whatever it was and gasped. “Oh dear God. The jump drives.” He dropped them onto his lap as if they seared his fingers.
“Mom, look. It’s the microphones.�
�� Molly looked at me and backed away, not wanting any part of them.
“Schultz wants you to hold on to them. He said he discussed the whole plan with you yesterday.”
“The man’s maniacal. I’m his bait.”
Bait?
Nick looked at Anna. “Anna, could you get Molly a cold drink?”
She hesitated for a moment, comprehending. “Let’s go have some juice, Molly. We’ll let the grown-ups talk.”
“But I’m not thirsty, Anna.”
“I am. Keep me company.” She took Molly’s hand and led her to the kitchen.
When they’d gone, Nick explained quietly, “The people who lost these do not know we’ve found them.”
Tony sulked, his brow furrowed.
“And when they called, they said they’d be coming back for them, right?”
Tony nodded. “They called again today. Twice. I was trying to reach you. They said they’re going to find me within the next twenty-four hours and I’d better be prepared.”
“Well, now you are. You’ve got the drives. You can hand them over.”
“What are those, fakes?” I didn’t understand.
“No. They’re the real thing. The original drives.”
“So, wait.” The plan still wasn’t clear to me. “What’s Tony supposed to do? Just hold on to the drives and wait until they mug him again and hand them over?”
“Pretty much—”
“But they might kill him—”
“Wait,” Sam interrupted. “Back up. I thought you two geniuses were going to give those drives to the FBI. So why do you still have them?”
I was glad he asked. I was completely confused.
“We did give them to the FBI. They copied them and have been working on decoding the data. These are the originals. They returned them after copying them.”
“But why in God’s name did you bring them back here?” I didn’t want the things in my house. I held on to the warm bundle that was Luke for comfort. He slept, undisturbed.
Nick spoke slowly, as if to a child. “Zoe. Whoever is looking for those drives doesn’t know that the information on them has been compromised. They still want them, and they’ll come looking for them. And Tony should keep them on his person until they do.”
