by Kara Lennox
No way out of this except to fight his way out. He aimed a punch square for the bodyguard’s face.
SONYA SAW THE PUNCH coming at John-Michael. Rather than just staying out of the way, which would have been the smart thing to do, Sonya jumped forward and tried to block the punch. She succeeded in blocking it—with her face. The punch wasn’t hard enough to break anything, just enough to make her eyes water.
Suddenly all the pain and stress and outrage of the past few months burbled to the surface. Sonya had heard of people seeing red, but now she discovered it was literally true. She saw Marvin’s face through a haze of red—and he looked at least as surprised as she felt.
She didn’t wait for him to apologize. Without conscious thought, her hand clenched into a fist, she drew her arm back, and she punched Marvin in his handsome, aristocratic face.
His eyes crossed like a cartoon character’s. He staggered back, then crumpled into a heap on the plush maroon carpet runner.
“Man, did that feel good,” Sonya said with a triumphant smile as months of stress drained from her body.
Her two bridesmaids cheered and clapped. Then they pounced as one on Marvin’s inert form. Cindy yanked a long ribbon from her bouquet, pulled Marvin’s hands behind them, and bound them with the red satin. Brenna ripped a length of chiffon from her headpiece and wound it around Marvin’s ankles, tying it in knot after knot.
“Er, I have handcuffs,” John-Michael said.
“I’m not taking any chances,” Brenna said. “You better put leg irons and a ball and chain on him if you want to prevent him from escaping.”
Heath and Luke pushed through the crowd.
“It’s about time,” John-Michael grumbled.
Luke grinned. “Looks like we weren’t needed, anyway.”
Heath examined the bindings around Marvin’s wrists and ankles. “Our own blushing brides took matters into their own hands.”
Luke and Heath grasped Marvin by his arms and hauled him to his feet. He was conscious but dazed. “You set me up,” he sputtered to Sonya. “This was a trap!”
“Oh, poor baby,” Sonya said. “Am I supposed to feel pity? I’m going to make sure you spend the rest of your life making license plates.”
He stared at her in disbelief. “And to think, I was actually in love with you.”
“You don’t know what love is,” Sonya replied, and there was sadness in her voice, rather than rancor. She took John-Michael’s hand in hers. “Love is putting the other person first, thinking about their needs before your own.” She gave John-Michael a meaningful look. “I’m lucky. I know what it is to be loved—by my friends, my family and John-Michael. I hope you find that someday, Marvin, and that you properly appreciate it when you do.”
He looked somewhat bewildered by her speech as Heath and Luke literally carried him down the center aisle of the cathedral-like church and out the massive double doors. They left his feet bound, unwilling to take any chances.
John-Michael turned to Sonya. “Sweetheart, you’re bleeding.”
“Here,” Muffy said as she handed John-Michael a handkerchief. He used it to gently wipe under Sonya’s nose.
“Ugh. I’ve bled on my beautiful dress.” She hadn’t felt much pain when adrenaline had been coursing through her veins. But now that it was all over, her nose hurt and the hand she’d used to punch Marvin throbbed with pain. She looked at her red, swollen fingers and wondered idly if she’d broken anything.
And then she remembered. John-Michael had said he loved her and wanted to marry her. And she’d agreed!
The ancient priest came tottering up to them. “Are we going to finish this wedding, or what?”
John-Michael looked around the church, at all the expectant faces. “It’d be a shame to waste all this.”
“Yes, yes it would,” Muffy agreed. They both looked at Sonya.
“Oh, sure, why not?”
She and John-Michael faced each other and held hands. “I, Sonya, take you, John-Michael, to be my lawfully wedded husband…” She spoke the vow with ease. Though she knew this ceremony wasn’t legally binding, since she and John-Michael hadn’t even applied for a license, they went through it all, anyway. They could accomplish the legal part at city hall next week. Meanwhile, they had a perfectly good wedding and reception at their disposal.
“I, John-Michael, take you, Sonya…” John-Michael didn’t hesitate, either.
They didn’t have rings, but Sonya at least took off the bogus ring Marvin had given her and handed it to Brenna. “Do something with this, will you?”
The priest squinted at them with rheumy eyes. “All done, then?” They nodded. “I now pronounce you husband and wife. And I believe I’ll retire to the rectory and take some medicine.”
Sonya and John-Michael kissed again, and the bewildered congregation applauded.
THE RECEPTION WAS DELAYED by an hour or so as the FBI questioned various members of the wedding party. The pricey photographer Muffy had hired ran around taking pictures of everything—he’d probably make a fortune selling them to the tabloids. But John-Michael didn’t care.
His first week as a law enforcement officer, and he’d helped apprehend a fugitive felon. Granted, the take-down hadn’t gone picture-perfect, and he’d had to rely on a bevy of blondes to do the dirty work, but he still felt supremely satisfied.
His minor professional success paled, however, when compared to what had happened in his personal life. He couldn’t imagine why he had delayed so long in telling Sonya how he really felt about her. He’d accused her and her family and friends of being snobs, unable to accept a gardener’s son into their midst, when really he was the one guilty of reverse snobbery.
Other than Tootsie Milford, everyone he’d talked to had treated him fine and wished him happiness. And Muffy…
“I’m so happy you and Sonya worked things out,” Muffy said as she and John-Michael danced the Texas two-step to an easy-listening version of a Willie Nelson song, as performed by the Brent Warren Orchestra. “I hold myself partly to blame for the fact you two didn’t get together long ago. I knew the attraction was there, and I discouraged it by making you responsible for Sonya. I knew you wouldn’t betray my trust in you.”
“You were right. But, shoot, Mrs. Patterson—”
“Muffy. Please call me Muffy. I’m your mother-in-law, and I might soon be your stepmother.”
“Muffy, then. I don’t think Sonya or I were ready for each other until now. We both had some things to work out.”
“I know what you mean. It took a heart attack to make me see things clearly. Before that, Jock and I would have had difficulties.”
“You’ll still have difficulties,” John-Michael reminded her.
“Oh, I know that.” She glanced over at her friend Tootsie, who sat alone at a table nursing some sort of drink and looking as if she’d just bitten into a lemon. “Some of my friends—or the people I thought were friends—think I’ve gone insane. But that’s all right. They’ll come around when they realize this isn’t some midlife-crisis fling. And when they get to know Jock. He’s an exceptional man.”
“That he is.”
John-Michael and his father switched partners, and John-Michael found himself once again dancing with his “bride.”
“This is the most fun wedding reception I’ve ever been to,” Sonya said, brushing a butterfly off her face. “Despite the insects. I can’t believe Mother actually got that cake with the butterflies inside when I told her not to.”
“It was quite a moving moment when you removed the top from the cake and they all flew out.”
“I’m sure everyone was very moved to see me scream like a banshee and dive under the table. I’ll get her back, though. Just wait until she and Jock get married. We’ll see how she likes a wedding cake filled with flying toads.”
“Where are you going to find flying toads?”
“I’ll genetically engineer some.”
“I thought you were a chemical engineer.”
/>
“I’ll study up. Hey, I have a question for you. How do you feel about Greece?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never been.”
“Want to? Heath says they found two airline tickets tucked into Marvin’s jacket pocket. Purchased with my credit card. Nonrefundable, but I can transfer Marvin’s into your name.”
“You mean a honeymoon?”
“Duh. Don’t you think we deserve one, after all this?”
“But we’re not even married. Not legally.”
“Who cares? We’ll fix that later.”
John-Michael let himself fantasize for a few moments about a deserted beach, no reporters, rubbing suntan lotion on Sonya. Sonya in a bikini. “I’m there.”
Sonya wrapped her arms around his neck. They stood still on the dance floor as other couples swirled around them. Another flurry of rose petals floated down around them. They’d been falling in light showers since the opening waltz, which Sonya and John-Michael had struggled through, stepping on each other’s toes and murmuring “Sorry” and “Excuse me” every few seconds.
“Say it again, John-Mikey.”
“I love you.”
“And…?”
“I will never, ever let my stupid pride come between us again, even though you have more money than—”
“I don’t. At my request, Mother is going to revoke my trust fund, and I’ve given her back all the credit cards. I’m going to make it on my own. Jock says you have the cutest house near Channelview. Can we live there, please?”
“It’ll be quite a lifestyle change for you.”
“I want it. I want us to live like normal people.”
“We can live wherever you want. But only if you say it again, too.”
“I love you.”
“Hey, you two are so cross-eyed in love, you’re making everyone else sick.” It was Brenna. “Stop staring at him for two seconds, Sonya. You’re needed elsewhere.”
Sonya let herself be led away, shrugging helplessly to John-Michael. If it had been anyone else stealing his bride, he would have objected. But Brenna and Cindy were at least partially responsible for getting him and Sonya together. It wasn’t until her time away with her two new friends that Sonya had started to reevaluate her life.
He supposed he should thank Marvin, too, and Muffy and Jock, all of whom had contributed. It was funny how events just came together sometimes. It was enough to make John-Michael wonder if there wasn’t a cupid out there somewhere, feeling very pleased with himself.
Epilogue
“To The Blondes,” said Brenna, and the three women hoisted their champagne glasses for about the dozenth time. Muffy knew how to pick good champagne, Sonya thought, as she swallowed a mouthful of the Dom Perignon.
“To friendship,” said Cindy.
“To true love winning out over impossible obstacles,” said Brenna.”
“Hey, it’s my turn,” Sonya said. But now that Sonya had everyone’s attention, she had a hard time coming up with something new. They’d toasted everyone and everything, from the orchestra to Muffy to the caterer who’d provided the incredible crab-stuffed mushrooms.
“Well?” Brenna looked at her expectantly.
“To Marvin,” Sonya finally said, hoisting her champagne glass.
The other two stopped midtoast. “What?” they said together.
Sonya addressed Brenna. “If not for Marvin, you and Heath wouldn’t have met.” Then she looked at Cindy. “And if not for Marvin, Luke wouldn’t have had to rescue you from living on a leaky old boat. But most important, without Marvin, the three of us would never have met. You are the best friends any girl could want.”
“Well, when you put it like that,” Cindy said. “To Marvin.”
Brenna joined in. “To Marvin, the ratfink.”
Sonya giggled. “Can you imagine him in prison?”
Cindy arched one eyebrow. “Within a week, he’ll probably con some guard into believing he’s innocent and paying for his lawyer.”
“Or helping him escape,” Brenna said.
“Okay, that does it,” Sonya said. “The three of us have to keep tabs on him. We have to make sure he gets prosecuted and remains behind bars.”
“Hmm, I think that calls for monthly meetings,” said Cindy.
“Oh, excellent!” Sonya raised her glass. “To monthly meetings. We may live in different cities, but we’re going to stay best friends.”
“To monthly Blonde reunions,” Brenna agreed.
“ARE YOU SURE you’re not too cold?” John-Michael asked for the third time. “You’re shivering.”
“I’m p-perfect,” Sonya replied. Cold but happy. “I can see the rings around Saturn.”
“Let me see.” Brenna elbowed Sonya out of the way. “Oh, my gosh, it’s so pretty! Maybe I should do some space-themed jewelry.”
“Adam, sweetie, you want to look?” Cindy held her son up to the telescope, but he was too young to really understand or appreciate why, when it was freezing outside, they were all out in the middle of a field outside of Cottonwood, peering into a metal tube. “Oh, well, maybe in a few years.”
Sonya had finally given John-Michael his thank-you present on their “wedding night,” and he’d been so touched by the fact she remembered his youthful interest in stars and planets that he’d had to declare his un-dying love all over again—which suited Sonya fine.
They hadn’t gone to Greece. John-Michael had been too new at his job and couldn’t ask for vacation. But they’d managed to take a few days off a month later, and they were spending them in Cottonwood, far away from city lights and smog, where they could give the telescope a good breaking in. Cindy, Luke, Adam, Brenna and Heath had joined them for their official monthly Blonde Reunion. Thankfully, there hadn’t been much to report about Marvin. He was behind bars, held without bail since he was a terrible flight risk, as prosecutors prepared their case against him.
Everyone took turns looking at Saturn. But Sonya’s ears and toes were going numb.
“Who’s ready for hot chocolate back at our house?” Cindy asked as if she’d read Sonya’s mind, and no one objected to packing up the telescope for the night and focusing on a few less intellectual pursuits.
Around a popping fire, they all grew mellow as they sipped hot chocolate. Sonya cuddled with John-Michael in an oversize chair, while Cindy and Luke lounged on the sofa with Adam and the dog. Heath and Brenna sprawled on the floor on big pillows.
Sonya had never been so content as she was now, living her simpler life.
She had much to be grateful for. She had funny, loyal friends and a husband who adored her; her mother was almost fully recovered from her illness and had reclaimed her own love; and last week, she’d been offered a position with a small engineering firm that specialized in solar-energy applications. John-Michael had nearly passed out from the shock, but she’d tried not to take offense. After all, she’d surprised herself, too. Besides, surprising her husband once in a while wasn’t all bad.
Her life was filled with almost too much good fortune for one woman to bear. Almost, but she would manage it.
ISBN: 978-1-4603-6956-2
OUT OF TOWN BRIDE
Copyright © 2005 by Karen Leabo.
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*How To Marry a Hardison
†Blond Justice