by Amber Crewes
The sun had set as they left the bar, and it was dark and quiet on the street. Before they reached the car, Meghan stopped Jack. “Babe,” she whispered as she pointed to Cameron Barrington’s new building. “Look. Someone is coming out of the building.”
They peered across the street as a man dressed in a black hooded sweatshirt came out the front door. “What is he holding?” Meghan asked.
“It looks like a duffle bag,” Jack replied in a hushed tone. “Let’s get out of here, Babe. We can come back for the car later. Why don’t we go back in the bar and call a cab? That guy is giving me the creeps.”
She frowned. “Honey, come on. We need to figure out what’s up. Why are you so against getting involved with this? You’re a detective.”
Jack’s face fell. “Babe,” he began. “I don’t want to be a detective right now.”
“What do you mean?”
He sighed. “I want to be a groom, Meghan. This is the only time in my life where I am Jack Irvin, Groom. I don’t want to be Jack Irvin, Detective, right now.”
Meghan shook her head. “I get it, Honey,” she assured him. “I hear you. I just don’t want this mess to spill over into our wedding even more than it has.”
Before Jack replied, she dashed across the street. “Hey,” she called out as she approached the man. “What are you doing?”
“Meghan, come back!” Jack called after her, but it was too late; she was standing before the man, and he was glaring at her. “Meghan, stop. Don’t go over there. Babe, come on.”
“What do you want?” The man asked, and she realized it wasn’t Cameron Barrington.
“What are you doing?” she asked. “Isn’t that Cameron’s building? What are you doing poking around in there?”
“None of your business,” he answered gruffly. “Move out of my way, girly.”
She did not budge, and the man reached into his belt and revealed a long, sharp knife. “Move,” he repeated as Meghan’s jaw dropped. “Or else.”
“Don’t hurt me,” Meghan begged as the man moved toward her, pushing her aside. She fell to her knees and cried out in pain.
Jack sprinted across the street. “Hey,” he yelled as he pulled a gun from his jacket and pointed it at the man. “Put the knife down.”
The man dropped the knife. “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he stammered as he looked at Jack’s gun with wide eyes. “I’m just a handyman, buddy. I’m not trying to hurt anyone.”
Jack raised an eyebrow. “You threatened my fiance,” he accused the man as he held the gun tightly. “Most handymen don’t make threats to bystanders.”
The man furrowed his thick brow. Meghan could see his forehead was covered in wrinkles, and there was a tattoo snaking up the side of his neck. “Look, man, I am not trying to cause trouble,” he assured Jack as he placed the knife back into his belt.
“What were you doing in that building?” Meghan asked suspiciously.
“Working,” he replied casually. “I do odd jobs for Mr. Barrington, and I was working on cutting some… glass.”
“With a knife?” she replied in disbelief. “I don’t think that’s how it works, is it?”
He shrugged. “I meant cut some glass boxes. Boxes that are used to store glass.”
Meghan stared at him. “I don’t believe you.”
He glowered at her. “It’s none of your business,” he muttered as he looked down at his feet.
“Call the police,” Jack ordered Meghan as he pointed his gun directly at the man’s face. “Now.”
The man bared his teeth at Jack. “If she had just minded her own business….”
“If you hadn’t pulled a knife out and threatened her, I wouldn’t be holding a gun,” Jack replied angrily.
“You’ve made a big mistake,” the man laughed.
“No, that would be you,” Jack scoffed. “You’ve messed with the wrong detective, and you made the biggest mistake of your life when you threatened my girl and pushed her down.”
Jack moved toward him, but the man pushed him away and took off sprinting down the street.
“He’s getting away,” Meghan shrieked as they watched him turn into an alley.
“No, he isn’t,” Jack murmured, and Meghan gasped as her fiancé took off running after the man.
“Jack, I’m coming with you,” she called out as she followed.
The man ran faster and faster, and Meghan’s heart sank in dismay; Jack was a fast runner, but this man was faster, and they would never catch up to him.
“Honey,” she wheezed as she trailed behind him. “I can’t keep up with you.”
“Just call the police,” he ordered her as he pumped his arms vigorously.
She slowed to a stop and pulled out her cell phone, dialing the police as she watched the man trip over an orange traffic cone.
“I need an officer out here now,” she shouted into the phone. “By the town square, please!”
Jack had nearly caught up to the man, who was lying on the ground and holding his knee. “Owwww,” the man moaned in pain as Jack approached.
“Don’t move,” Jack ordered, but the man rolled onto his side and stood up, taking off into another run.
Meghan could hear police sirens, and the blue and red lights of a squad car filled the town square as a police car arrived. “Over there,” she pointed as two officers exited the car, their guns drawn.
Jack was racing after the man, his arms pumping and his body moving faster than Meghan had ever seen it go. The officers joined in the chase, and they chased the man to the side of the bank.
“Stop right there,” one of the officers ordered as the man came to a stop. He was backed up against the wall of the bank, and he had nowhere to go.
He held up his hands. “What is this?” He demanded angrily. “I’m just a handyman.”
“We’ll see about that,” the other officer said as she pointed her pistol at the man’s chest.
“Handymen don’t usually run from the police. Drop the knife.”
The man dropped the knife, and the officers put him in handcuffs. “We’re going down to the station,” the male officer informed him after reading him his Miranda Rights.
The female officer turned to Jack. “You two okay? Do you need an ambulance?”
Meghan shook her head, her breathing still heavy after running through the streets of Peach Tree Grove. “I’m fine,” she told them. “Babe?”
“We’re fine,” Jack assured the officers.
“We’re glad to hear it. Just follow us down to the station so we can get your statements.”
Meghan reached for Jack’s hand. “Sorry you have to slip into detective-mode for a little longer,” she whispered to her fiancé as the man was guided into the backseat of the police car. “I wish we didn’t have to go to the station.”
Jack shook his head. “It’s fine,” he told her as he kissed the top of her head. “I’m just glad we’re both safe. And, for the record, this is the LAST thing I am doing as a detective until after our honeymoon. Do you understand?”
She smiled at him. “I do,” she said, liking the way those two special words felt on her lips as she gazed lovingly at her future husband. “I do.”
26
I t was the evening before her wedding, and the dust had settled a bit after the encounter with the crook and the police. Meghan still didn’t have all the details of the incident; the police were still investigating, or so her parents had told her, and she was trying to focus on relaxing before her wedding.
She lay on the bed in Myrtle’s old room and sighed. In twenty-four hours, she would be walking down the aisle, but she only felt dread in her heart. She had been informed by Mellie that the wedding was back on, that her parents had decided to go through with the grand plans after all, and she felt the stresses of the next day looming ahead of her.
Meghan heard a knock on the door. She didn’t feel like having company; in moments of worry, she preferred to be alone. “I’m about to take a nap,” she called out
, hoping whoever was at the door would take the hint and leave.
She groaned when the door opened, anyway. “What?” she asked, thinking it was Jack or her sisters.
“That’s not a kind way to greet your mother,” Rebecca chided as she walked into the bedroom and gracefully lowered herself next to Meghan on the bed. “What’s wrong with you? You don’t look like an eager bride before her wedding.”
Meghan lifted herself up and sat cross-legged on the pale blue comforter. She shrugged her shoulders. “I’m just tired, Mama.”
“Tired?”
She nodded. “It’s been a lot of stress over the last few weeks. Between you and Daddy, the information about David, being attacked on the street, and now, a massive wedding? It’s a lot to deal with, Mama.”
Rebecca studied her daughter’s face. She lifted a hand to Meghan’s forehead and smoothed a stray lock of dark wavy hair. “It is, isn’t it?” she murmured softly.
Meghan nodded. “I just don’t know if I can go through with it, Mama,” she explained quietly.
“Because of Jack? Are you two quarreling?”
“No,” she laughed. “Jack is the only person keeping me sane right now. I don’t know if I can go through with a giant wedding. The stress of the last few weeks already has me feeling worn out, and I can’t imagine running around tomorrow, greeting guests left and right, smiling for cameras, and making small talk.”
Meghan felt tears brim in her dark eyes. She tried to wipe them away, but before she finished, a single, fat tear dripped down her cheek. Rebecca noticed, but before she could speak, the door opened, and one of the young female housekeepers strode in.
“Mrs. Truman? Thank goodness I found you. The girls said you were upstairs, and I’m so glad you’re here.”
Rebecca gave her a sharp look. “Can’t you see you’re interrupting something?”
The housekeeper’s pretty face paled. “I am so sorry,” she said as she held up her hands in defeat. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. It’s just... I’m having an emergency at home, and I need to leave immediately. I wanted to tell you before I left. I didn’t want you to think I ran out on my work.”
Rebecca raised an eyebrow. “An emergency?”
She nodded vigorously. “It’s my baby,” she moaned. “My baby girl is sick, and my husband just got called into work. We don’t have family around here, and I need to get home and watch her.”
Rebecca narrowed her eyes at the young woman. “Sick? What’s wrong with her?”
“It’s Respiratory syncytial virus.”
“RSV?”
“Yes, Ma’am,” she confirmed. “It’s a nasty case, and she just can’t shake it. I can’t make her comfortable, either. She hasn’t been sleeping, which means we haven’t been sleeping... I’m sorry. That was too much information.”
Rebecca pursed her lips. “A vaporizer,” she announced. “You need to go to the store and buy a vaporizer.”
“Oh?”
She nodded. “All my daughters had nasty bouts of RSV when they were young, including this one,” she said as she gestured at Meghan. “It was a nightmare, and it wasn’t until Myrtle had it that I was told to buy a vaporizer. It will make the baby’s breathing easier, and she will sleep through the night. Trust me.”
The young woman’s face filled with relief, but it was quickly followed by sadness. “Thank you for the advice,” she thanked Rebecca. “I just don’t have time to go get one right now. My husband was called in, and he has to leave in twenty minutes…”
Rebecca shook her head. “Go home to your baby,” she ordered the young woman. “I’ll have one of the other housekeepers drop off a new vaporizer within the hour. We have enough people bustling around the house, and surely we can spare someone for a bit.”
The young woman’s eyes grew wide. “Ma’am? Are you sure? That’s awfully kind of you.”
Rebecca shooed her away. “Go now,” she urged. “Your job here is important, but your most important job is to be a mother to your baby,” she insisted. “We’ll survive without you here. Go home to your child and don’t come back until she’s well. Mr. Truman and I will make sure you are taken care of in the meantime, at least as far as your paycheck goes. That’s an order.”
“Thank you,” the young woman repeated, but Rebecca waved her hands.
“GO.”
Meghan watched as she hurried out of the room. “Mama, that was so kind of you,” she told her mother in awe.
“Being a mother is the most important job in the world,” Rebecca again declared. “I’ve made my mistakes with you kids, that’s for sure, but I love you more than anything in this life.”
Meghan’s heart warmed when she heard this. “Mama,” she began, but Rebecca cut her off.
“Come to my room for a moment,” she instructed her daughter as she rose from the bed.
The two Truman women walked down the corridor to the master bedroom and into Rebecca’s closet, a vast chamber filled with designer clothes and accessories. “What are we doing here?”
Rebecca bent down and opened a white marble box propped on a black antique dressing table. “I want to show you something.”
She held a delicate white gold bracelet in her hand. “This was my mother’s,” she told Meghan. “She wore it on her wedding day, and she passed it down to me to wear on my wedding day.”
“It’s beautiful,” Meghan admired as the light hit the bracelet and made it shine.
“I’ve been saving it for you,” Rebecca continued. “Mellie didn’t want it for her wedding; she said it didn’t fit her vision? I was devastated with her choice, but I saved it for you. It’s very special to me, and I hope you will wear it tomorrow. Someday, you can pass it on to your daughter for her wedding day.”
Meghan’s dark eyes shined as her mother slid the bracelet on her wrist. “Mama? This is so nice. Are you sure you want me to have it?”
“Absolutely,” Rebecca agreed. “You will be a lovely bride, and you deserve to wear it. I want to offer it with my love, and as a peace offering of sorts. I am so sorry for all the tension and stress I have caused during your special time. I hope that you will forgive me, Meghan.”
Meghan threw her arms around her mother. Rebecca Truman rarely gave apologies, and Meghan could tell by her mother’s tone that it was sincere. “Of course, I do,” she whispered into Rebecca’s ear. “I love you, Mama.”
“I love you too,” Rebecca told her as they hugged. “I just want you to be happy. Jack makes you happy… I can tell. I think you two will have a good life together. I am sure of it.”
They stood in the closet for another few minutes, hugging and crying. Finally, Rebecca pulled back. “I have an idea,” she told her daughter.
“About what?”
“The wedding,” Rebecca said, her eyes sparkling. “I think we can tone it down a bit, don’t you think?”
Meghan laughed. “I think that would be sweet, Mama,” she said as she wiped happy tears from her eyes.
“I think we can pull it off,” Rebecca winked.
27
T he next day, the Truman house was abuzz with excitement; it was finally Meghan and Jack’s wedding day. Though the afternoon had been humid, the evening weather was spectacular; the air was warm, but comfortable, and a gentle breeze blew through the garden.
Fifty of Meghan and Jack’s closest friends and family members were seated in white wooden chairs waiting for the ceremony to begin. Rebecca and Henry had agreed to a small, intimate ceremony after what had happened with David and the newspaper article, and now, as Meghan stood in her childhood bedroom surveying the guests who were waiting for her, she couldn’t have been happier.
“You look perfect,” Myrtle sighed as Meghan twirled before the floor-length mirror in her dress.
“You do,” Mellie agreed.
All of their previous wedding plans had been quickly altered, including Meghan’s dress; she couldn’t wear a grand ball gown for a small garden ceremony, so she, Myrtle, and Karen had
snuck away upon Myrtle’s arrival to a small boutique. They found Meghan’s dream dress, a tea-length eggshell-colored gown with a full skirt and sweetheart neckline that perfectly complemented Meghan’s womanly figure. It was old-fashioned, but it looked stunning, and Meghan adored its unique aesthetic.
She paired the gown with a pair of vintage lace gloves and a pearl-studded barrette that held back her wavy hair, and the look was completed by a blush-colored silk ribbon tied at her waist.