His Sword

by Holly Hart

  “Just don’t mess up,” she says.

  Penny

  “Robbie,” I murmur over the bouquet of flowers I’m holding at my breast. My best friend is fiddling with my hair.

  The organ music is playing in the background. I know that in only a few seconds, I’m going to walk out of this little side door, and my dad’s going to walk me down the aisle. The doctors said he might not live five months, but it’s four years on, and there’s no sign of the cancer coming back.

  Robbie’s tongue sticks out of her mouth as she concentrates on corraling a few rogue strands of my hair.

  “Penny, I love you, but if this is about the boots –”

  I hold back a laugh, glancing down at Robbie’s footwear. She’s actually wearing the pale blue bridesmaid’s dress I picked out for her. She didn’t even complain when I asked her to lay off the hair dye.

  But I had to make one concession.

  So Robbie’s wearing studded black leather ankle boots instead of heels. Maybe other brides would hate it, but I’m not them. I love it. Robbie’s bringing her own unique style to my wedding, and I wouldn’t want it any other way.

  “It’s not about the boots,” I laugh. “I swear.”

  “Good,” Penny grunts. She pats at my hair. “There – Penny, you look beautiful.” She winks at me. “And I’m not just saying that because it’s your wedding day…”

  I elbow her. “You better not be!”

  Robbie glances through the side door. “Looks like we’re just about ready to rock ‘n roll. What’s on your mind?”

  I consider holding onto the thought that’s on my mind, but then decide against it. Hell, if a bride can’t be a few minutes late to her own wedding, then what the hell’s the point in having it at all!

  Besides: I’ve been waiting for this wedding for four years. Charlie can wait another few seconds.

  “I just found out yesterday,” I say.

  “Found out what?” Robbie says, dancing from one leather-studded boot to the other. She’s clearly uncomfortable with the delay.

  “I’ve been feeling a bit queasy, you know. And I just sensed that something was – ”

  Robbie’s mouth drops open, forming a perfect O. “No. Wait, are you serious?”

  I nod, grinning from ear to ear. “Yeah, Robbie, I am. I’m pregnant!”

  Robbie throws herself at me, stopping herself at the last moment. “Shit, you’re all made up. God, Pen, I want to hug you so bad. How? When? I thought you couldn’t have kids!”

  “Just freaking hug me already,” I say. “I’m as surprised as you are. We’ve been trying for four years. On IVF the last two, like I told you. And nothing was happening. So, I don’t know.”

  Robbie gives me the biggest bearhug anyone’s ever received. It’s times like this I’m glad I’ve got a tomboy for a best friend.

  “You’re going to be an amazing mom,” she says. Incredibly, Robbie – the hardest girl I know – sounds like she’s on the verge of tears.

  “I’ve got something to ask you,” I say, as the organ music reaches a crescendo. Robbie’s clearly forgotten her hurry from a few seconds ago.

  “Anything!”

  “Will you…” I whisper, my mouth suddenly dry. “Will you be my baby’s God mom?”

  Robbie fall silent. Heck, I wish I could fall pregnant every week, if this is the reaction it has on her!

  “You’re serious…” She stammers.

  “Deadly,” I grin. “Sorry – bad joke. But seriously, if anything should ever happen to me and Charlie, Robbie – I can’t think of a better person – a better friend – to take care of my little baby.”

  “I’m honored,” Robbie whispers, her hand pressed to her mouth. “Does Charlie know?”

  I shake my head. “Nothing. Not even that I’m pregnant. I don’t know how the heck I’m going to get through the reception without so much as a drop of alcohol…”

  “I’ve got your back,” Robbie says, stepping up immediately like I knew she would. “Knowing how expensive the hotel you picked is, I’m sure they can rustle up some non-alcoholic champagne.”

  The organist is by now on his second rendition of the bridal march. I kink an eyebrow. “So – reckon we should get this show on the road?”

  “I’ll go get Jack,” Robbie nods, hand still clapped over her mouth. “See you at the altar?”

  I nod.

  I love my best friend to the moon and back, but I can’t deny that she’s a gossip. I just hope I get a chance to tell Charlie my secret before she does!

  Robbie does her job quickly. A few seconds later, dad opens the door to the church’s ante-room, and steps in.

  “You look good, dad,” I smile. “Real good.”

  Dad – Jack Walters to the rest of the world – does look good. He’s five years older than he was, and his hair never really recovered from the chemotherapy. It’s the same color as Charlie’s eyes. It makes me feel at home.

  At least, he claims it was the chemotherapy’s fault. I’m not so sure…

  “I’m an old man, Penny,” dad laughs. “You don’t need to lie to me. But you, you look wonderful, darling.”

  I shoot him a knowing glance. “Been there, done that,” I whisper. “I’ve learned my lesson.”

  Dad holds out his arm. “So – you ready?” He asks. “Because if not, I’ve got the car fueled. We could make a run for Mexico…”

  I giggle. “I’m good, dad.”

  We step out into the main section of the church. I lean into my dad’s arm. It’s hard for me to believe how much healthier he is these days, after I saw him withering away in his hospital bed.

  He feels like a man again – all muscle and life.

  The guests stand to the right and left of us as I walk down the aisle. There isn’t a dry eye in the house.

  I look up, through my veil, and see my already husband is waiting for me, wearing an expression of joy on his face. Tilly’s just behind him, guarding the ring box like a guard at Fort Knox. People say that your wedding day is the happiest day of your life.

  I never knew if I believed that.

  But for Charlie Thorne, I know it’s true.

  “I’m so proud of you, Penny,” dad whispers. “And I’m so happy how you turned out. Remember, I’m always here for you if you need me.”

  He relinquishes me, and I kiss his cheek. “Thanks, dad,” I whisper. “I love you.”

  I take my place in front of the minister. He begins immediately.

  “Does anyone present know of any reason why these persons may not lawfully marry?”

  I glance at Robbie, shooting her one hell of a look. She looks anywhere but me!

  “That’s a relief,” the minister grins. Our guests titter in unison.

  “The vows you are about to take to be made in the presence of God, who is judge of all and knows all of the secrets of our hearts; therefore if either of you know of a reason why you may not lawfully marry, you must declare it now.”

  Charlie glances at me, and we shake our heads in unison.

  “Charles, will you take Penny to be your wife?”

  “I will.”

  “Will you love her, comfort her, honor and protect her, and be faithful to her as long as you both shall live?”

  “I will.”

  “Penny, will you take Charlie to be your husband?”

  “I will.”

  “Will you love him, comfort him, honor and protect him, and be faithful to him as long as you both shall live?

  “Then,” the minister smiles. “By the power vested in me by the state of New York, I hereby declare you man and wife. Charles – you may kiss the bride.”

  Charlie steps forward. He turns to his daughter, plucks the ring from the box and slides it on to my finger. I’ve worn it for four years, haven’t taken it off since the day Charlie slid it on to my finger in his office.

  This morning, my finger felt naked, hungry for the burden of love it has carried all these years.

  “I love you, Pen
ny Thorne,” Charlie whispers the second before his lips graze mine.

  “I love you right back.” I say.

  He kisses me.

  Penny

  I don’t care how many times it happens, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to climbing the stairs into a private jet.

  Besides, Charlie’s – and my, I guess – plane is no ordinary beast. It’s not some dinky little Gulfstream jet with space for seven or eight passengers, and a little closet for drinks. Hell no!

  It’s a freaking Boeing 787. They call it a Dreamliner, but I don’t know if that’s true. After all, I’ve been on my back in this thing dozens of times, and I’ve never caught so much as a wink of sleep!

  When I met Charlie, he had a 737. I don’t know what it is with men and machines, but Charlie loves his jets.

  We had only been married a couple of weeks before he was talking about upgrading. He claimed we need the extra space! I knew from the twinkle in his eye that space had nothing to do with it…

  A tall blonde air stewardess greets us with the familiar hiss of the champagne cork leaving the bottle. Her hair is pulled back into a neat bun, and her uniform precisely tailored.

  “Sir, Madam, welcome on board,” she says. “Would you like a glass of –?”

  Charlie nods his head gratefully. “Please.”

  I wave away the offered glass. It’s been a hell of a day. A cool glass of champagne is all I can think about, but I know I can’t taste it.

  “Oh,” I add, turning back to the stewardess as Charlie and I walk arm in arm into our private cabin. “It would be a shame if it went to waste. Why don’t you have a glass?”

  The stewardess – Marie, according to her name tag – shakes her head sadly. “I’m afraid I can’t, Madam. Safety regulations, you know?”

  I grin back. “Ain’t that always the way! Tell you what – when we get to the Caribbean, we’re not going anywhere for a couple of weeks –”

  “Months!” Charlie says, pinching my ass playfully. “If I have my way…”

  “Ignore my husband,” I say, giggling. “There’s no way he’d stay away from his daughter that long.”

  My husband.

  God, it feels good to call him that. Of course, it has been technically, legally true for four years. But the buzz I get when I say – even think – it now is on a whole other level. It’s electric. It courses through me.

  “Our daughter,” Charlie growls. “She’s as much yours as she is mine, now.”

  Marie can’t hide the smile that greets her lips when she sees Charlie and I playing like this. She nods her head, and starts to make her exit.

  “I mean it, Marie,” I call after her. “When we get there, you guys can use the plane, anything in the galley, whatever you want.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Thorne,” she says.

  Charlie kicks the door to our private cabin closed with the underside of his foot.

  “Did you mean that?” I whisper. I stroke away a tear that’s already beginning to form in the corner of my eye.

  “Mean what?” Charlie frowns, taking a sip of his champagne. He gestures at me with his bubbling golden glass. “You sure you don’t want any? You haven’t touched a drop all day! Besides, it’s an eighty-seven…”

  I close my eyes. The sight of the champagne flute is tempting – but nowhere near tempting enough. Not with the secret I’m hiding.

  “Mean that Tilly is as much my daughter is yours?”

  Charlie’s furrowed forehead creases yet more. He takes a step towards me. For some reason, the world seems to slow down as I wait for his response.

  I watch as Charlie’s chest rises and falls in slow motion, as the tiny tuft of chest hair sticking out dances against his shifting open collar shirt.

  “What the hell are you talking about, Penny?” He says, setting the champagne flute down on the nearest surface. Underneath us, the private jet’s huge engines cough into action, and the whole jet seems to rumble into life.

  “I’m sorry –,” I whisper. “It’s just – nothing. I’m probably being emotional.”

  Charlie takes my hands. He draws me close to him. I wriggle free of his interlocked fingers, and smooth down the collar of his crisp gray suit. Anything to avoid looking into my husband’s eyes right now! I’m overcome with emotion.

  “Hell no,” Charlie growls. “You’re one of the – no, scratch that. You’re the most level-headed woman I’ve ever had the joy of knowing. You’re the only woman I’ve ever loved, the only one I ever wanted to settle down with. So you know what, Penny?”

  “What,” I croak. My throat feels all closed-up.

  “If you ask me, Tilly has been your daughter from the day you put your dad’s life on the line to save her. Maybe she’ll never call you mom, but that’s fine. You’ve got to know how much she loves you, Pen.”

  “I wouldn’t want that, anyway,” I mutter. “For her to call me mom. I’m not, and I’ll never be that to her…”

  It’s true. It wouldn’t feel right. Tilly and I have more of a – a little sis, big sis relationship going on.

  “Pah,” Charlie says, flicking his fingers scornfully. “I don’t do labels, Penny. You know that. You’re as much a mom to Tilly as any woman in the world has a right to be. More. You’ve given everything for that girl.”

  Charlie reaches for his glass of champagne. He lifts it into the air and toasts me.

  “To Penny Thorne – the kindest, most beautiful wife any man has ever known, and the most caring mother – and big sister – any man could ask for. Whatever she wants to call it…”

  Charlie holds my gaze with perfect stillness, raises the glass to his lips and takes a little sip. I watch, entranced by his glittering gray eyes. His honesty is palpable.

  “I mean it, Penny,” he says on the way down. “Four years ago, I could never have imagined we’d end up so close. You’re the only girl I ever want in my life. You better believe that.”

  “I do,” I whisper.

  How could I not?

  “Here,” Charlie grins. “It’s time we celebrated! We’re finally on our honeymoon!”

  “Only four years late,” I grin.

  Charlie pushes his champagne flute toward me. “Take a sip, and come play with me. You’ve been good for all our guests. It’s time to let your hair down…”

  I bite my lip anxiously. This is the moment I’ve been avoiding for the last couple of days. I knew there was no way I could hold out for the whole honeymoon, but how the hell am I supposed to broach a topic like this?

  “Charlie…” I say as the jet rocks.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Thorne, if you could take your seats, we have been given clearance to leave, and will be lifting off in about thirty seconds. We’re expecting mild turbulence…”

  I don’t hear the rest. My mind is roiling, thoughts swirling like a tropical thunderstorm.

  My husband grabs my hand and leads me over to a comfortable cream-leather executive chair, and buckles me in side-by-side, next to him. How am I supposed to tell Charlie something this momentous when I’m not even facing him?

  “There,” he says as his seatbelt fastens with a click. “Now – what is it you were saying?”

  I groan. “I wasn’t exactly planning on telling you here.”

  I’ve been picturing this in my mind for days. Standing hand-in-hand with my husband and lover, on a pearly white beach, the sound of surf hissing in the background. Instead, I get the rumbling of two jet engines!

  “Telling me what?” Charlie presses.

  He leans forward, takes my hands once again and gives me a kiss. I taste the bubbles on his tongue. It’s a reminder what – for the next seven months, at least – is completely off the table.

  It’s worth it. I decide to go ahead and say it. Beating around the bush is only getting me more and more anxious…

  “I’m pregnant,” I say.

  Charlie doesn’t react. Not for a second, at least. It’s like the revelation simply bounces right off him. Then, like the su
n dawning, realization breaks. He doesn’t know where to look, or how to act.

  “Can you fly?” Charlie spurts out, his face suddenly drawn with worry. He goes into full-on protective dad-mode.

  Half a dozen different anxious statements fallout of his mouth at once, each bumbling into the back of each other. His nerves are strangely charming.

  “Wait – I’ll call the pilot. Don’t go anywhere. We’ll be back on the ground in ten minutes. Do you need a doctor –?”

  “Charlie!” I yell, grabbing my husband’s hand. His fingers are already reaching for his seatbelt. His muscles are tense. His neck snaps to face me.

  “What is it?” He says, flustered.

  “You need to chill.” I say. I count the reasons why out on my fingers.

  “One, we’ve been planning this honeymoon for more than a year. If you ruin it for me, I won’t forget! Two, I can fly for another four months yet. Three – I’ve seen a doctor. Three actually. If another forty-year old man puts me up in stirrups, I think I’ll slap him! And four…”

  “Four?” Charlie repeats. Thankfully, the worry on his face is beginning to fade, replaced by a warm – if uncertain – pride.

  I load my tone with as much innuendo, as much hidden meaning as I can muster. “It’s not whether I can fly I was hoping you’d ask about…”

  “What do you mean?” Charlie asks. He strokes my arm anxiously, as though he thinks I’m made of china.

  I bite my lip, and look longingly into my husband’s eyes. “Read my lips, Charlie,” I say. I move my hand, resting it on his knee. “You know what happens inside a pregnant woman’s body?”

  “She gets –”

  Charlie stops himself just in time, just before he says big. He knows better than that.

  “No, not that,” I wink. “Not yet, anyway…”

  Charlie breathes a sigh of relief.

  “Something better,” I say. “My OB/GYN told me all about it. For the next few months, my brain’s going to be dumping hormones into my bloodstream. Anything it can get its hands on to convince the little kid to grow. You know what the byproduct is?”

  My fingers creep up Charlie’s leg.

  He glances down, licks his lips, then back at my face. The telltale bulge at his crotch tells me exactly what he wants. I admire his self-restraint. Just… It’s not his restraint I want right now.