Glass Slipper Bride

by Arlene James

  “Just enjoying this classic married moment,” he said, chuckling.

  She smiled as he left the room, closing the door carefully behind him. He was right. It was just the sort of thing that husbands and wives went through all the time, and it felt good, too good.

  When she came out of the room a few minutes later, her hair fluffed dry and spritzed into face-framing spikes, glasses perched protectively on the bridge of her nose. Zach shook his head, and her spirits plummeted. “What? What’s wrong?”

  Zach plucked the glasses off her nose and tossed them onto the bar. “You don’t need those things, and we both know it. Now let me look at you.” He caught her hands and lifted her arms to shoulder height, his gaze sweeping her. After a moment, he smiled and complimented them both, saying, “I do good work. Maybe I ought to branch out, go into fashion consulting. You look delicious.”

  She felt delicious with his green eyes all but eating her where she stood. “Thanks. You’re sure it’s okay?”

  “You questioning my taste?” he asked with mock severity.

  She laughed. “Not at all.”

  “Good. Let’s get moving. We’re already a few minutes late.”

  She cast a last look at the discarded glasses and let him shepherd her to the door. They hurried down to find the convertible waiting for them, the air conditioner cooling at full blast. Jillian plucked at her hair with her fingertips, smoothing it against her nape. It was in need of a trim, but she hadn’t wanted to bother with it, all things considered. She couldn’t wait for Janzen to leave town before she next visited the hairstylist, but since she dared not go out by herself, she would have to have an escort, which seemed like a prodigious amount of bother for a little haircut.

  “It looks great,” Zach said, seeming to read her mind, and she dropped her hand to her lap, smiling.

  They pulled up in front of Brett’s house and parked at the curb. “I like your brother and sister-in-law a great deal,” Jillian said, “but I’m feeling really guilty about this.”

  Zach sighed. “I know. It doesn’t seem fair, does it?”

  “Breaking the news was one thing,” Jillian added, “but socializing like we’re one big happy family is another. On top of that, I’m afraid I’ll say or do something to give us away.”

  “I’ll stay close,” he assured her. “It’ll be okay.”

  Jillian shot him a doubtful look. “You know, on Friday when we were here and they invited us for dinner tonight, it didn’t seem like such a big deal, but suddenly this afternoon I realized they think we’re in love, that we’ve been sleeping together all weekend. They probably think we’ve been having wild, romantic sex all this time!”

  “Just shows how much they know,” he muttered, yanking open the car door. “It’ll be all right,” he said, walking around the car as she let herself out on her side. “And we won’t accept any more invitations. We can say you’re trying to get ready for your opening.”

  Jillian nodded as they moved up the sidewalk, but she couldn’t help thinking how much she hated all this lying. “Couldn’t we just tell them the truth?” she asked plaintively. “Surely they would understand.”

  Zach raked a hand through his hair. “Yeah, you’re probably right. We’ll see how it goes. Maybe, if the right opening comes, we can tell them.” Somehow she didn’t feel any better.

  As before Zach rang the doorbell, then opened the door and ushered Jillian inside. As before, the entry hall was dark and cool. The television was on in the den, and one of the kids yelled from upstairs. Zach called out his brother’s name, Sharon appeared at the end of the hall.

  “Oh, hi, y’all. Come on in. Brett’s got the barbecue fired up out back. How do ribs sound?”

  “Great,” Zach said heartily, slapping his middle and ushering Jillian down the hallway.

  One moment all was quiet and normal, but then they stepped into the den and chaos erupted.

  “Surprise!”

  Bodies seemed to hurl at them from all directions. Jillian instinctively latched onto Zach, hearing him exclaim, “Mom! Dad?”

  It took several moments for Jillian to realize that the gifts stacked on all the tables in the room and that the congratulations raining down on them from all directions were part of a surprise wedding shower masterminded by her two sisters-in-law and that the middle-aged couple throwing their arms around her and Zach were none other than Zach’s parents.

  “What are you doing here?” Zach was exclaiming, holding his father at arm’s length. Mr. Keller was a weathered, thicker, slightly gray version of his middle son. Mrs. Keller owned her son’s vibrant green eyes and wore her thick reddish-brown hair in a swinging cut that reached just below her chin. She was a tallish woman who filled out her jeans and western shirt with slender curves.

  “What do you think?” his father replied, grinning. “Had to meet my new daughter, didn’t I? Congratulations, son! We’re so happy for you!”

  His mom smiled almost shyly at Jillian. “Such a pretty face! My stars those eyes take your breath away!”

  Horrified, Jillian just stared, stunned to her toes. Then Zach picked a note of normalcy and said affectionately, “Yeah, they have that effect on me, too.” He slid an arm around Jillian’s waist and bent to kiss his mother’s cheek. “Mom, this is Jillian. Honey, these are my parents, Dante and Beth.”

  Jillian swallowed and found her voice. “So nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Keller.” Suddenly she was scooped away from Zach by strong arms folding her into a hug.

  “Make it ‘Dad and Mom,’” Dante Keller said, a catch thickening his voice.

  “Welcome to the family, darling,” Beth said, taking her turn to hug her like a long lost daughter.

  Jillian suddenly felt tears spilling from her eyes. Zach was there again an instant later, pulling her against him. “I don’t know what to say,” he told the room at large. “We’re just blown away, both of us.”

  Jillian nodded against his shoulder, sniffed, and lifted her head. “We didn’t want any fuss,” she said shakily. “You’ve gone to so much trouble.” She looked around, seeing in the kind, happy faces around her the death of any hopes of ending the charade. She didn’t know if she was glad or sad.

  “Marriages deserve celebration,” Beth Keller said animatedly.

  “And we know from experience how much stuff you need when you first set up housekeeping,” Sharon said. “Zach’s just been camping out all this time, and you said yourself you’d been living with your sister until just a few weeks before the wedding, so we figure you need plenty.”

  “Which means it’s gift time!” Mary announced, pushing her pregnant bulk through the crowd to snag Jillian by the hand. Jillian grabbed desperately at Zach as she was towed away. To her relief, Zach ducked under arms and wove through bodies to wrap an arm around her waist. He stayed glued to her side during the next hour as they opened package after package and endured joke after newlywed joke. Zach introduced her to so many people that her head was reeling with names and faces, not to mention the array of gadgets and linens, cookbooks and dishware, greeting cards, decor items—some of them absolutely bizarre—and gag gifts that were heaped on them.

  Jillian began to relax about halfway through dinner. It was just impossible not to enjoy the celebratory mood. Despite the melting heat, Sharon and Brett had decorated the backyard with hanging lights and folded paper wedding bells. They’d set up tables and folding chairs, laid out pristine white paper tablecloths and made centerpieces of plastic doves and dried flowers. The paper plates were printed with hearts and wedding rings linked with flowing ribbons. Citronella candle torches kept the winged pests away. Sharon and Mary and Beth had laid out a feast of baked potatoes, salad, baked beans and rack upon rack of barbecued ribs that Dante and Brett grilled over charcoal while Daniel kept everyone’s glasses full of iced tea so sweet it made Jillian’s teeth ache. After they’d stuffed themselves to the gills, Beth and Sharon brought out a miniature wedding cake from a local bakery and served it up with h
omemade ice cream.

  For a while that evening, laughter, the company of family and friends and the possessive closeness of her husband completely filled lillian’s consciousness. Only later, when the crowd began to thin out and the family gathered around the table with cold drinks in hand, sleepy children draped over their shoulders and laps, did Jillian begin to feel the guilt creep in once more. She was lying to these dear, generous people, pretending to be a permanent part of their family, and it was so wonderful to feel a part of a real family again! But it was a lie, a game, and it was going to break her heart and wound the others. She wanted to weep for all of them.

  She wanted it to be real.

  Later, driving home with the trunk and back seat of the car packed with gifts, Zach was uncharacteristically quiet. Jillian left him to his thoughts, too overcome by her own to make small talk. Eventually, the silence wore on her nerves so much that she reached for the radio, but Zach surprised her by catching her hand and folding it into his own.

  “I’m sorry about tonight,” he said softly. “I never dreamed they were planning anything like that.”

  “There’s nothing to be sorry about,” she said, “except—”

  “Except?”

  She couldn’t look at him and say it. “You’re so lucky to have your parents.”

  After a moment, he said silkily, “They’re crazy about you. It’s going to kill them if we end it.”

  “If?” she said, wheeling her head around, hope springing to life.

  His green eyes iced, and his lean mouth firmed. “When,” he amended brusquely. “I meant when.”

  Despondent, she turned away before he could see the sheen of tears in her eyes. “When,” she echoed dully. “Yes, of course.”

  When. When it was over. She wondered, not for the first time, if the price of the safety afforded her by this marriage wasn’t too high for both of them—much too high.

  Chapter Ten

  Zach’s parents left for Montana again on Wednesday. He and Jillian took them to the airport, as requested, and a tearful leave-taking was the result. He used Jillian’s work and impending opening to put off their invitation to come north for a visit before the end of summer. They had visited the apartment on Tuesday to get a look at what she was doing and were suitably impressed, both by her sculpture and his new home. Jillian had seemed pleased yet oddly depressed at the same time. The tears she wept at their departure lingered on the drive home, and Zach didn’t know how to comfort her. He was walking a fine line these days, playing the loving, affectionate husband in public, keeping his distance in private.

  To make his misery complete, Eibersen showed up at his office that day, demanding to speak to Jillian and accusing Zach of keeping her prisoner somewhere. Zach took perverse pleasure in tossing the nut out, but Eibersen’s parting shot was that he’d get the truth from Camille if it was the last thing he ever did. After Padgett’s experience with Eibersen over the weekend, Zach felt obligated to call Camille and warn her. He got a dressing down for his trouble. She accused him of everything from stealing her sister—as if Jillian were an object that could be owned by one individual—to sending Eibersen after her. Despite wanting to throttle her himself, he felt that he had no option but to assign a man to watch over her for her own protection. He decided not to say anything to Jillian about it. She had enough to worry about.

  Zach’s work had always been a matter of juggling a number of jobs at one time, but Jillian was used to a more peaceful existence. He couldn’t help reflecting that these days were more stressful than usual, however. It was all he could do to keep everything in the air, and it was largely thanks to Janzen Eibersen. Funny that he should be beginning to identify with Eibersen in some ways. They were both obsessed with Jillian, and they both loathed Camille. And Jillian didn’t want either of them. In case he should ever doubt it, she reminded him repeatedly during those next days.

  Jillian worked like a madwoman, coming out of her studio only long enough for meals, showers and sleep. Even at that, Zach ate his meals alone. It was like living with a ghost who cooked and ran water and operated power tools.

  Thankfully, Denise and Worly came over one evening to discuss the upcoming opening of the Art Bar, which meant that Jillian had to behave as though she actually knew he existed. Despite the fact that Zach had called down to alert the front desk of their arrival, they made such a disreputable appearance that he had to go down and identify them before they were allowed to come up. They came armed with pizza and beer, as if Zach and Jillian couldn’t be trusted to offer them refreshment to their liking, but Zach was so glad to be in the same room with his own wife for a change that he’d have welcomed them if they’d brought live snakes.

  Denise wandered around the apartment, alternately approving and turning up her nose, while Worly investigated Zach’s sound system and music collection as if contemplating buying it—or stealing it. Finally they all gathered in the living room, where Worly enjoyed sprawling on the sofa with Denise, leaving only the chair for Zach and Jillian. Zach didn’t mind in the least, until Jillian picked a spot in the center of the floor and curled up on the carpet. Conversation was lively and mostly conducted in a language foreign to Zach.

  “Jammers are steaming, man. Wait’ll you taste. This session’ll do us all.”

  “I’m pumping myself. I mean, the paint is dry and hungry. Can’t wait!”

  “I’m looking forward to it, too,” Jillian said mildly. “But what about the view?”

  This went on for some time before Zach figured out they were discussing the upcoming opening and a special viewing to be held by the owner of the Art Bar. When he realized they were talking about picking up Jillian and taking her to the viewing themselves, he put his foot down. “No way. If this guy wants to see what he’s getting beforehand, and I can certainly understand that, he’ll just have to come here.”

  To his surprise, Jillian was the one to object. “I’ll be perfectly safe with Denise and Worly around!”

  “I don’t think you should even be going to the opening,” Zach countered. “Eibersen knows about it. Who’s to say he won’t know about this viewing? If you insist on going, I’ll have to cancel a couple of things and go with you since it’s in the daytime.”

  “Better listen to the man,” Worly counseled. “He knows his stuff.”

  Jillian sighed and capitulated. For the second time, Zach wanted to hug his unlikely ally, witch hair, tattoos, body piercings and all.

  To Jillian’s surprise, Mr. Considine, the owner of the Art Bar, made no demur about coming to the apartment to view her work. To her absolute shock, he bought the newly completed piece for three-hundred and fifty dollars and took everything else she had to display for sale. She was so jubilant about this unexpected turn of events that she couldn’t keep it to herself and broke her own vow to keep out of Zach’s way by practically assaulting him with the news the moment he arrived home. Seeming as delighted as she, he swept her into his arms and whirled her around the room. Suddenly the air was charged with their own peculiar brand of electricity. Setting her on her feet, he brushed the tendrils of hair about her face with his fingertips.

  “I’m so proud of you,” he said. “Beautiful, sweet and talented, what more could a man want?”

  Perhaps it was sheerest folly, but she couldn’t stop herself from asking hopefully, “Do you want me, Zach?”

  His hands dropped to her shoulders and tightened them. “You know I do.”

  She went up on tiptoe, lifting her mouth toward his—and his cell phone rang. Cursing, he jerked away and whipped the thing off his belt, and barked into it, “What?”

  The color leeched out of his face as he listened to whoever was on the other end. After a moment he asked, “Are you sure you’re okay?” He listened again and hung up, clearly alarmed.

  “What is it?”

  He licked his lips and rubbed a hand over his face before answering. “We’ve lost Eibersen. He’s been acting strange ever since he showed up at my o
ffice. I’ve had a guy shadowing his every move. Obviously Eibersen made him. He lured the op into an abandoned warehouse and locked him up. Thankfully he had his cell phone, but by the time he got someone there to turn him loose again, Eibersen had disappeared. His room is empty. His car’s been sold. He’s gone completely to ground.” Zach rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and seemed to make a sudden decision. “We’ve got to find him.” He kissed her absently in the center of her forehead, told her to stay inside and then said that she shouldn’t worry about supper for him. He’d get something somewhere if he had time. With that, he left her to wonder what might have happened if Janzen Eibersen had just stayed home and gotten drunk one more night.

  Zach came in late the Sunday night before the Monday opening of the Art Bar and collapsed. He’d done everything possible to find Janzen Eibersen, but it was as if the man had fallen off the face of the earth. He’d even called on every possible source to make a dependable connection in Alaska and checked things from that end, but if Eibersen had made that move, his new employer knew nothing about it yet. Zach felt in his bones that Eibersen was planning something, but he couldn’t figure what, which was no surprise since he hadn’t been able to figure this case from the beginning. It just didn’t fit any of the established patterns in his experience, and he didn’t know what to do about it. His strongest instinct, at this point, was to forbid Jillian to even participate in the opening, but he didn’t have the heart to do that, and he suspected it would be a waste of breath anyway. He sensed that she’d endured about as much “protection” as she could. So, he only had one choice. He had to get enough rest to be in top form on Monday evening. Everything depended on that now.

  Unfortunately, Jillian, who was asleep when he finally came home, had no idea what he was planning, so naturally she woke him on Monday morning to tell him he’d overslept. He mumbled something about not going in and needing sleep, but he didn’t ask her to call Lois and explain, so Lois called him on the cell phone in a near panic. His empty belly did the rest, and Jillian found him stumbling around in the kitchen a few minutes later. She whipped him up a quick breakfast, without the coffee, and talked him into taking to the bed for the day. As he slipped between the cool sheets, so redolent of her scent, and laid his head on her pillow, a desperate need assailed him, but exhaustion won, and he slipped into a deep sleep punctuated with erotic longings and dreams. He awoke, late in the afternoon, to the familiarity of his own bed for the first time in weeks. After a quick shower and shave, meant as much to rid him of the lingering effects of his dreams as to clean up, he found his wife in the living room watching an afternoon talk show.