by JoAnn Durgin
“I think Dr. Robinson said it was five inches.”
Eliot whistled under his breath. “Not bad. I see I’ve got a tube. How long will I be wearing this fashion statement?”
Sam chuckled. “A few days. The main thing is that you’re going to be fine, my friend. I’m not sure how to thank you for taking that knife for me. I owe you a debt of gratitude. Lexa, my mom and Dad, my kids, and I all thank you. I realize that guy was headed straight for me.”
“Yeah, well, as I recall, Marc jumped in the way first.”
“Then you pushed Marc out of the way. I’m a grateful man to have such loyal friends. Not many would take a knife and put his life in danger, even for a brother. Speaking of friends, it seems you have some friends in high places.”
Eliot leaned his head back on the pillow. “What do you mean?”
“Seems the members of the Extant group were rounded up this morning by some guys who swooped in and hauled them into Pastor Chevy’s precinct and then disappeared.” Sam’s eyes met his. “Now, the lot of them are sitting in the county jail and confessing all, from what I hear. We need to discuss the legal ramifications with Josh and any action we want to take. But, from what Pastor Chevy told me, the men are going to plead guilty. He’s already given them Bibles and sent the jail chaplain in to see them.”
“Nothing like beating them over the head with it. Don’t make me laugh, buddy.” Grimacing, Eliot shifted in the bed.
“Eliot, I’m thankful to you. More than you know.”
He grunted. “You’re getting sappy on me again, Sam.”
Sam tapped the bed rail with one hand. “In that case, there’s a young lady waiting outside to see you. Marta was here through most of the night. She just returned a few minutes ago with Lexa. I’ll say good-bye for now and give you two some privacy.”
“Thanks, Sam.”
He could hear Marta talking in the corridor outside his room. The sound of her voice made his heart jump. A moment later, she stood by the side of his bed. “Eliot Marchand, if you weren’t a wounded warrior, I’d punch you.” Her eyes filled with tears and she smoothed hair away from his forehead.
“I’m sorry you’re not seeing me at my best. And yeah, no punching the wounded dude, please.”
“Eliot, I don’t know what I would have done if I’d lost you.” Tears streamed down her cheeks as Marta gingerly sat on the edge of his hospital bed.
“You don’t need to worry about it. I’m still here.”
She laughed and sniffled. “You know what I mean. I thought we’d have a quiet two weeks, finish getting a church building ready, not all the crazy stuff that’s happened.”
“We had some fun times in the midst of everything,” he said. “The Balloon Fiesta was an awesome day. Do me a big favor and grab the controller. I want to see you when I kiss you. Although”—Eliot put his hand over his mouth and breathed into it—“I seriously need to brush my teeth. We’re talking breath that’s more gross than caffeine here.”
“Like I care.” After helping him adjust the bed, Marta grabbed his face between her hands and kissed him. Lingeringly. Longingly. Lovingly. Her kiss was full of passion and the promise of dreams fulfilled. “I’d tell you not to scare me like that again but a lot of good it would do me.”
“About that.”
Her eyes widened. “Go on.”
“I have some commitments I need to keep, but maybe it’s time to think about hanging up the James Bond gadgets and gizmos and settling down in one place.”
“Can you keep the Hummer?”
He grinned. “I can keep the Hummer.”
“And could you give up the woman in every port?”
“Honey, you are my port.”
She sputtered and laughed, wiping away tears at the same time. “I’m glad you told me who you are, Eliot. Really are.” She glanced around the room. “I mean Stephen. Stephen Polaris,” she said.
“There’s more.”
“What do you mean?” She gripped the bed rail. “Should I sit down again for this one?”
“I don’t think it’s necessary. Let’s just say my family’s not just any family in France.”
“What are you, like a mob family? Serial killers? Tightrope walkers? Reality TV stars?”
“Why would you assume something like that?” He laughed and then groaned. “It’s not good to make me laugh right now.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
“I wasn’t sure you’d want to have it all loaded on you at once. I’ll admit…it’s a lot.”
“Tell me. I’m ready.” She squared her shoulders and looked so beautiful that all he wanted to do was hold and kiss her for the rest of the day. The rest of his life. Since he was in a hospital bed, that wasn’t the best idea.
“I’m a direct descendant of Henri II, Prince de Condé, Premier Prince du Sang, born in 1588 and died in 1646. House of Bourbon-Condé and Bourbon-Conti, part of the Monarchy in France. Honestly, in today’s society, it’s nothing more than a title, and in some circles, our family lineage is considered more or less the black sheep, but there are some privileges and a rarely used title that come with it. Your history lesson for today is this: the son of the last Condé, the duc d’Enghien, was kidnapped at night in German territory by a French platoon, judged in Paris, and executed the same night in Vincennes by order of Napoléon Bonaparte.”
“The name Napoléon rings a vague bell,” she teased. “So, what does all this mean?”
“It means that I get invited to some pretty swanky parties in France, but there are some who target me because they seem to think I’m important to my home country in the grand scheme of things.”
Shaking her head, Marta tucked a pretty blonde curl behind one ear. He needed to kiss her again. “Are you saying you’re not important? Or that you are?”
“I’m saying I only want to be important to the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known. Marry me, Marta. No one else fills me with joy and hope like you do.”
She looked at him as if in a daze. “I also drive you crazy sometimes. And irritate you, and infuriate you, and maybe even anger you—”
He put two fingers over her lips, quieting her. “I’ll make you happy. We’ll have a nice home, a pretty sweet tank to drive, Barney and maybe Brute, lots of kids and…” Beckoning her close, he whispered in her ear. As he expected, her cheeks immediately flushed a pretty pink.
She stared at him. “You really mean it, don’t you? You’re saying we should get married?”
“I think I just did.”
Putting one hand on his forehead, she frowned. “Are you delirious? What is it about you TeamWork guys getting bit by a spider or being stabbed that makes you start flirting, spouting show tunes, and making proposals of marriage?”
“I haven’t sung any show tunes. Was ‘Up, Up and Away’ in a movie?” Eliot refused to laugh. It’d hurt too much. “I love you, and I want to marry you, Marta Holcomb. If you’ll have me.”
“You’re completely serious, aren’t you?”
“Last time I checked. I’m still alive, still breathing, but you’re right. I’m pretty certain I stink right now, and this isn’t the best place for a proposal. Then there’s—”
Marta silenced him with a deep kiss that had him thinking he’d died and gone to Heaven. “In case you didn’t get my point, that’s a yes. I’ll marry you, Eliot. You could stand to brush your teeth, but you’re still the most handsome man I’ve ever known. And brave. And selfless. And I know you can be romantic when you want. When are you thinking? Shouldn’t we go back to Houston and date a little?”
“Why?” He smiled at her startled expression. “I know everything I’d ever need to know about you. Enough to know I want to spend every day I can with you for the rest of my life. I don’t need to do the dance, Marta. I’m ready. I don’t know how to be a boyfriend, but I want to be your husband.”
She inhaled a quick breath as she apparently grasped his meaning. “Here? Are you saying you want Sam to marr
y us here in Albuquerque?”
His smile grew wider. “I think I just did. As I recall, you’re the one who said we’re not—”
“Like most people. I know.” She ran a hand over her curls and he could almost see the wheels in her mind already turning. “We’re like an old married couple already, finishing our sentences. Oh, my. We need to ask Sam.”
“I’m not eavesdropping, but I heard,” Sam called from the hallway.
Eliot glanced up to find Sam lounging against the doorframe.
“I repeat, do you two need an ordained man to marry you?”
Smiling at Sam, they both said, “I do.”
Chapter 46
Day 12, Friday
~~♥~~
Her father was gone.
Marta knew it as soon as she looked in Eliot’s eyes and glimpsed the sadness. She imagined it was much like hearing your loved one had died after they’d battled cancer for years. Although it was expected, and everyone knew it was coming, when it happens, you’re still in shock. Then the grieving can begin. Or end.
They gathered in Pastor Chevy’s office at the One Nation Church, chairs arranged in a circle. Marta knew she’d either remember every detail of this meeting or else she’d remember very little except the basic facts. The human mind could be strange like that. Likewise the human heart.
Her mother, Brenda, sat in the chair beside her, holding her hand. Thom and Paine sat opposite them. Eliot sat in a wing chair in the middle of the group. He was still sore from his injury, and it would take time to heal. But he was here, and he was otherwise healthy and strong, and that’s all that mattered.
Sam and Pastor Chevy told them to take as much time as they needed, but that they were available for the family, if needed. If that wasn’t an indicator of the news to come, nothing was.
How strange that her family had met her fiancé only hours before. They’d flown into Albuquerque from Louisville earlier that morning. Marta thought her brothers would never stop going on about the Hummer. After arriving at the hospital, she’d introduced them to Eliot as he was released into her care. Her mother was quiet and, although she sensed no disapproval, Marta understood she had questions. It didn’t help that the female nurses all watched Eliot leave with dreamy-eyed expressions and kept calling him “Stephen” or “Mr. Polaris.” Yes, she’d need to do some explaining and hope her family would know she wasn’t going out of her mind.
She was in love.
And Eliot was the man of God’s choosing for her.
Eliot started by giving them the basic facts. They’d all asked him not to sugarcoat the truth, but to give it to them straight. Although Marta could tell he was conflicted in doing that, he did so with an air of sad resignation. Her father, Christopher Michael Holcomb, had died within days of leaving their home in Louisville when she’d been eight years old. He’d been on a business trip for his pharmaceutical firm, but instead of reaching his intended destination of San Francisco, his flight had been rerouted to Sacramento because of inclement weather.
“From what we can tell, he went to dinner in a restaurant in a good area but then he was attacked and murdered by a group of thugs who stole his wallet,” Eliot told them. “They dumped his body in a shallow grave on the outskirts of town, but when the remains were discovered several years later, there were no teeth to pull dental records and positively identify him.”
Swallowing hard, Marta squeezed her mom’s hand. This was the closure they’d needed.
“For years, his case was considered cold in California.” The way Eliot’s broad shoulders slumped, Marta could see how difficult this news was to deliver. She wouldn’t ask him until much later how he was able to find him. He might not even be able to divulge that information.
“Thank you, Eliot,” Brenda said. She’d wiped her eyes a few times during the report, and so had Marta. “It’s good to finally know the truth.”
Her brothers hadn’t moved, had barely twitched or shifted in their chairs. Stunned, they said nothing, their expressions devoid of emotion.
“If you’d like, I’ll arrange to have him flown to Louisville for a proper burial,” Eliot said. “Just let me know what you’d like.”
“I think that would be good.”
“Mom, after hearing this news, maybe it’s best that Eliot and I not get married tomorrow.” Marta ignored the look in Eliot’s eye at that statement.
“Your father would want you to follow through with your plans. Eliot’s brought us closure, and I thank the Lord he was able to give that to us.” Wiping her eyes and tucking her tissue in her handbag, Brenda sat up straighter and gave them a smile. Forced, but it was there. “This is a time to celebrate life, not mourn the dead. Your father was a Christian man,” she said, including all three of her children in her glance. “He would not want us to be sad, but to be happy that he’s been with the Lord for many years now. It sounds as though his death was quick, and for that, I suppose we can be thankful.”
“My deepest sympathies to all of you,” Eliot said.
“Eliot, are you parents coming to the wedding?” Brenda said. “I realize France is a long way off.”
“No, they can’t come at such short notice, but I’m hoping Marta would like to fly with me to France next week to meet them.”
Marta’s jaw gaped. “Next week? Fly to France? Meet your parents?”
Her reaction brought much-needed smiles to her brothers’ faces.
“I’d like to bring Sam and Pastor Chevy in for a time of prayer,” Eliot told them. “For the news you’ve learned today and for our marriage tomorrow morning.” Rising to his feet, Eliot walked across to where Marta sat and held out his hand.
Placing her hand in his, Marta allowed him to pull her to her feet.
After sweetly kissing her, he faced her family. “I promise you that I’ll watch over Marta all the days of my life. I love her dearly, and I want nothing more than to make her happy. I realize this marriage has come as a shock to you.” He turned and gave her a wink. “It has to us, too, but Marta and I have known each other for a few years now. We just needed time to be together one-on-one, and this mission to Albuquerque with TeamWork has given us that time. I know I’ve grown as a man, as a Christian, and as a friend to her, and I trust she feels the same way.”
“I do,” Marta said. “Well, not as a man, but…all the rest.”
“As long as you say ‘I do’ tomorrow when Sam asks the question,” Thom said. She loved hearing that from her oldest brother. They liked Eliot, and she felt sure they’d get along well.
“I think I’ll remember,” Marta murmured. “Now, let’s invite Sam and Pastor Chevy to come join us, and then Mom and I have some shopping to do.”
~~♥~~
Felipe worked with Angelina in the sanctuary of the One Nation Church later that afternoon. Winnie, Lexa, and the other ladies were all running around like chickens trying to get ready for Marta and Eliot’s wedding, the first wedding in this church. Sam and Pastor Chevy would be co-officiating.
She and Felipe had been given the job of counting communion cups since the couple wanted their guests to take communion with them. That seemed like a neat thing to do at a wedding. The thought struck her that Felipe would also be taking communion for the first time. That made her smile. A lot of firsts on this trip.
“Angel, I hope you’ll want to see me again when we get back to San Antonio.”
She stopped counting cups. “I’m not allowed to date yet, if that’s what you’re talking about.”
“Well, how about we get Dean and your mom to take us places? They can go smooch or whatever and then we can be together. To smooch…or whatever.”
“Don’t go getting any big ideas.”
“Oh, I’ve got all kinds of ideas for you and me, Angel.”
“I’m sure you do.”
Felipe took one step closer. “Would you like that, Angel? Spending time with me? I hope you’re not tired of me.”
She shook her head, confused. “Why would I
be tired of you?”
“Just checking. I plan on being around a long time, like it or not, so you might as well get used to me.”
“You could try coming with me to my church youth group. I think you’d like the kids and the leaders, Felipe. They’re nice and I’m sure they’d love you.”
“Yeah? Love? That’s a pretty strong word.”
When he leaned close, she put one hand on his chest, keeping him at bay. “Someone’s feeling romantic or whatever because of all this wedding hoopla. Here,” she said, handing him a stack of cups. “Finish counting this stack.”
He did as she asked and, when they were finished, they headed in the direction of the church nursery. They’d volunteered to help watch the kids so the ladies could go to into town and pick up whatever supplies were needed. Marta was out with her mom shopping for a wedding dress and Eliot had gone with some of the men to pick out a tux—to buy one, he’d said, and not rent one. She’d caught wind of a honeymoon in Paris, France. She couldn’t even imagine. What exciting lives her TeamWork friends led.
Dropping into a chair, Felipe played peekaboo with Emily. Then he played cowboys and Indians—make that Native Americans or whatever—with Joe and Luke. Joe was so cute with his little swagger. Was that something else they taught little boys to do, especially in Texas? She read a story to Leah and Hannah, and then played Candy Land with Gracie and Chloe. Those two asked her all kinds of questions about Marta and Eliot getting married.
“I’m not going to get married for a long time,” Chloe announced. “I want to marry a man like my daddy. Mommy says a man like that will be hard to find.”
“I want to get married, but not until I’m older.” Gracie darted a glance at Joe as she said it, and Angelina bit her lower lip not to laugh.
“What’s on your mind?” Felipe worked beside her to help pick up the toys scattered about the room after Amy and Beck took the kids back to the camp. They’d been pretty good about cleaning up, but they’d still left a few things sitting around. Plus, Angelina could tell that Felipe wanted to spend as much time with her as he could before they left the camp tomorrow. She understood the feeling and felt the same way.