by Clara Ward
“Times change, Sarah. Besides, they’re making the show either way. I’ve already sold them rights to my story, and much of it happens to coincide.”
“You brought reporters to my wedding!”
Tom smiled and braced her firmly through the next few steps of the dance. It was uncomfortable and unfair. Still Sarah felt nothing but amusement, despite all their dubious history.
“They didn’t bring cameras, and the whole thing will be fictionalized to protect people’s privacy. The EU is quite old-fashioned that way.”
“Like no one could figure it out.”
“You’re changing names anyway, aren’t you?”
“You always know too much.”
“Knowledge and charm get me quite far.”
The dance was ending, “I’ll need to talk to Reggie.”
“Naturally.” Tom bowed and kissed her hand.
As Sarah approached Reggie, Tom caught up Emma and danced her away.
“He had a business proposition. I think Phil should hear it too,” Sarah said to Reggie, and they went hand in hand to waylay Phil.
Sarah was surprised at how easily she could repeat each word of Tom’s proposal. He had a knack for presentation. She was also surprised by Phil’s reaction.
“It’s a perfect opportunity!”
“For what?” asked Sarah.
“We’ll write up the contract to state the work is fictionalized but also retain some executive control. That way we might keep out the bits we least want shown and influence the slant given to the rest.”
“EU News is pretty reputable, doesn’t spin as predictably as the American press,” Reggie said.
“And we are the heroes of this story. I believe that. Don’t you? We just don’t want the first version told to be biased by our political enemies,” Phil flung out his hands as he spoke, then steadied the hors d’oeuvres on his plate.
Sarah folded before his enthusiasm, but couldn’t find any in herself. “I don’t want political enemies. I just want to disappear.”
“I’ll do my best, Sarah. Let me handle the negotiations. Your story up to this point is going to come out eventually. Tom has certain rights to the parts that involve him. But if you and Reggie really want to start over anonymously, I can work toward that in the contract.”
“Okay, I’ll trust you to handle it,” Sarah said, “But remember we’ll be on our honeymoon.
“You’re only checking messages once a day,” Phil nodded with a paternal “I’ve got the message” sarcasm mostly aimed at Reggie.
Reggie crowed back like a cocky adolescent, “And I doubt we’ll have time to proofread a script,” as they were summoned across the yard to cut the cake.
By the time the sun grew orange on the horizon, Sarah was tired of the word “radiant” and the need to make small talk. She’d finally managed her way through the dinner buffet and sat down at a table to eat julienne vegetables and pink meatballs. Looking up she saw James furling and unfurling his fingers as he spoke with Reggie’s father. They were headed in her direction.
“The genetics for spotters seems quite simple, but that one gene has to confer some reproductive advantage—“
“Are you saying spotters exist just to have kids with movers or mind readers or what not?”
“It may have been a useful trait in its own right thousands of years ago.”
“What about now?” her father-in-law said. “I don’t need to spot a genetic sequence, but if a person could spot other traits, like good will and honesty, choose better business partners, avoid—Hello, Sarah. Sitting all alone?”
“Not anymore,” Sarah said as the two men joined her. “Please tell me you’re not discussing grandchildren?”
“I hadn’t thought of that. We could be grandparents, meeting each other during visits sometime,” Mr. Malone slapped a hand on James’s back.
James’s mouth widened in dismay and his fingers splayed out on his knee.
“Not too soon,” Sarah said.
James regained some composure, “We were mostly discussing Reggie’s abilities, and I think his father may be a spotter too.”
“I’m too old to be pressured into changing,” the senior Malone smiled.
“There’s so much we need to study, variations we may have overlooked,” James said.
Sarah’s mind turned over, finally escaping the buzz of wedding duties. “That reminds me, I need to talk to Doug. If you’ll excuse me?”
James nodded absently and her father-in-law raised only one eyebrow before saying, “Certainly.”
She soon found the Druid, standing alone to the side of the festivities.
“There’s something you’re not telling me.”
Doug steepled his fingers and gave a long nod, standing in shadowed profile to the setting sun. Without looking toward her he said, “You make a beautiful bride, Sarah.”
“Why am I wearing green?”
“Some answers aren’t simply told.”
“Something to do with O’Reeley?”
“You know enough to ask. Perhaps you’ll be a Druid someday.”
“Before or after I study genetics?”
“I’ll wait to see.” Doug smiled and walked away.
Sarah was still replaying the brief exchange in her head when Reggie found her and slipped an arm around her waist.
“Tired?” he asked.
“I could be done.”
“We can leave whenever you want. Our first honeymoon cottage awaits.”
“One last try,” she said, taking Reggie’s hand and leading him across the yard.
“Dr. Knockham,” she said.
“Please, call me Leonard.”
“Is there something I should know about the color green?”
Leonard smiled, holding a drink in one hand. Like the Druid, he’d been standing well off to one side of the action; so there was no one around to hear. “Like what?”
“Like why you choose it for your clothing and your home? Why Doug said I should be married in it?”
“Oh, did he? Curiouser and curiouser.”
The scientist stood quietly, the image of tight-lipped British affability.
Then Reggie said, “Something to do with leprechauns?”
Knockham laughed from the bottom of his chest, then paused with a lopsided smile, “I guess you never know where legends come from.”
“From people who leave someone money but aren’t really dead?” Sarah pressed.
Knockham looked directly at her, eyes wide beneath lowered brows, “But Chris Martin couldn’t—So your other grandfather . . . This may be more than you should tell people.”
“He’s not my grandfather, and you spoke in favor of free information,” Sarah said, still wanting clear answers, but realizing what he’d implied, and flashing briefly on rumors about her mother’s parentage.
Leonard smiled easily, “Here, I’ll tell you this much for free, or in exchange for the amusing ideas you’ve started in my brain. Green is an affectation, not like the Druid’s white, more like a wink and a nod.”
“For the planners?”
“No,” he shook his head, “And that’s all I’ll say. These are the sort of questions that may answer themselves in time. For now, enjoy your wedding.” With the aforementioned wink and a nod, he sauntered off.
At first Sarah was annoyed, but gradually a smile crept up to her cheeks. She wondered what the odds were that she’d rescued someone like O’Reeley by chance. Could he be her grandfather, possibly driving out after finally hearing of her mother’s death? Did he choose cars without GPS by chance, and did he choose his name to sound like, “Oh, really?”
She laughed as she stood beside Reggie, on the cliff side of the clearing, and gazed down at the boat Tom had brought, now fiery in the lowering sun. “How’d you like to sail away into the sunset?” she asked Reggie.
“Haven’t we had enough adventures with transportation?”
“I’m sure we could handle that boat. Just to the edge of the
bay. We’ll catch a cab from the big hotel out there. And Tom’s lackeys won’t mind, it’ll look even better in their TV show.”
“How could I refuse you anything? Are we sneaking down?”
Sarah nodded.
“I’ll get the bags and meet you there.”
A few minutes later Sarah and Reggie waved goodbye to their guests from a Chinese junk silhouetted against the setting sun. If the waves helped them forward and the sail turned gracefully, no one wondered why.
The two of them sat together on a varnished wood bench. Sarah felt her veil like hair on her shoulders, only smoother and lighter. The dress dusted her arms like the most tentative touch, and the wind felt chill on her neckline but wakening on her arms.
“You’re doing the helicopter thing again, aren’t you?”
“Just experiencing the here and now. Want to join me?”
Reggie nodded.
Sarah wrapped him in an invisible cocoon, taking a few extra moments to let him feel each imaginary piece fall into place. Then she rolled the covering off slowly, from his head to his toes, letting him attend to her progress all the way down. His eyes met hers, first in trust, then in wonder. And together, barely touching, they enjoyed the feel of the boat on the water.