by Diana Palmer
She smiled. She was wondering about the result herself.
* * *
SUPPER WAS RIOTOUS. The Avengers, Paul, Mikey, Tony Garza, his two bodyguards and a tall, good-looking man who came home with Paul but wasn’t introduced all sat down at the table. Mandy was laughing to herself as she laid the table with edible goodies. The star dish was, of course, lasagna.
“This is just like my mother used to make,” Tony exclaimed when he tasted it. “Woman, you should open a restaurant!”
“Can’t.” Mandy sighed. “The girls would starve. Besides, Barbara, who owns Barbara’s Café in town, makes it even better.”
“It’s delicious, Mandy,” Merrie said.
The others agreed with Merrie and Tony.
Paul looked around him and shook his head. “My God, aren’t we a crazy group? It’s like an episode of Law and Order,” he mused.
“I got a cousin who guest-starred in an episode,” Tony volunteered. “He played a cop.” He made a face at Paul. “We disowned him.”
Paul chuckled. “I know how that goes,” he murmured.
“Yeah, you turncoat,” Tony joked.
“I’m not so bad,” Paul defended himself. “I attract beautiful women.” He leaned over to kiss his wife.
“No, honey,” Sari protested, “I attract gorgeous men. I mean,” she added, “just look around this room!”
All the men chuckled. Even the mystery man who’d come in with Paul.
“Are we allowed to ask whose side he’s on?” Merrie piped up, indicating the tall, handsome man sitting next to Paul at the table.
Everybody looked at him. Tony Garza pursed his lips. “Well, he ain’t FBI, I can tell you that,” Tony said and went back to his lasagna.
“How do you know?” Paul asked, surprised.
“Because I’ve been investigated by most of them over the past twenty years.” Tony chuckled. “I never forget a face.”
“Is he right?” Merrie asked the stranger.
The man, who was tall, with dark, thick black hair and dark eyes, grinned at them. “I’m not FBI,” the man said in an amused voice, almost as deep as Tony’s. “But I do wear a white hat.”
Ren just laughed. “I could tell you who he is, but I won’t.”
“How would you know?” the unidentified man asked.
“Your cousin is a friend of mine. He’s the sheriff up in Catelow.” He chuckled. “His last name is Banks. His cousin who lives in San Antonio is named Colter.”
“Busted.” Banks laughed out loud.
“Yeah, he’s from the misfit agency.”
“I’m a Texas Ranger,” Banks replied. “But I’m off duty. And I’m here because I wanted to meet your houseguest.”
Now they were all staring at Banks. Even Tony Garza.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“YOU WANTED TO meet me?” Tony asked Banks, because the man was staring at him. “Why?”
“You saved the life of a friend of mine, a couple of years back,” Banks replied. “He was in on a bust in Jersey, a big one, involving organized crime. One of the perps had him dead to rights, on the floor with a .45 aimed right between his eyes. You stopped the man from shooting.”
Tony frowned. Then he nodded. “Yeah, I remember. The guy with the .45 was one of mine.” He smiled sheepishly. “I know what happens when you pop a cap on a Fed,” he added. “Not good for business.”
“Whatever the motive, my friend appreciated it. I just wanted to tell you. He can’t. He’s still undercover. Not,” he added wryly, “in Jersey.”
Tony chuckled. “Well, he’s welcome. But I didn’t have noble motives or anything. It was just good business.”
“They say you paint,” Banks said to Merrie.
She smiled at him. “It’s just a hobby, but I love it.”
“I’d love to see some of your work,” Banks added.
Ren slid his hand over hers at the table. “We’d love to show it to you,” he said, making sure Banks knew he was with Merrie.
Banks got the idea at once and grinned. “Sure, I’d love that,” he replied.
Ren went with Merrie, who was still weak, to see the studio where she worked, on the back of the house. Her canvases lined the walls.
Banks whistled. “This isn’t a hobby,” he argued. “It’s a full-fledged career. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Thanks,” Merrie said softly.
He shook his head. “You see right into people, don’t you?” he asked absently. He was looking at a painting she’d done long ago of Mandy.
She smiled. “It’s a blessing and a curse.”
“More blessing than curse,” Banks replied. He glanced from her to Ren and grinned. “The good ones always get snapped up right away,” he added.
Merrie flushed. Ren pulled her close and kissed her hair. “Yes,” he said warmly. “They always do.”
* * *
SHE WORKED ON Tony’s portrait for the next few days. It was slow going, because she had to take frequent breaks. But it was going well. Tomorrow she’d add the details she’d decided on, and let Tony see it for the first time.
She and Ren were still sharing a bed at night, with the door wide-open, to the amusement of the rest of the household.
Late one night, he recited a poem to her, his deep voice thrilling in the soft darkness, lit only by a night-light.
“...and still the darkness ebbs about your bed. Quiet, and strange, and loving—kind, you sleep. And holy joy about the earth is shed. And holiness upon the deep.” Ren finished the poem.
“Oh, that’s lovely,” Sari said from the door.
“It’s Rupert Brooke,” Ren called, laughing. “You recited one of his poems to me back home,” he reminded Merrie. “He was one of my favorite poets in college. He was killed in World War I. This is from a poem called ‘The Charm’ that he wrote.”
“I wish my husband would read poetry to me, but I don’t think he even knows a poem,” Sari teased.
“I do so know a poem!” Paul protested, joining her. Both were in pajamas. Paul grinned down at her. “Ready? Here goes. ‘There once was a man from Nantucket...!’”
“You peasant!” Sari exclaimed, and hit him. He took off running, laughing, and she took off after him, laughing, too.
Merrie laughed into Ren’s throat, clinging to him. “They’re so happy together,” she murmured sleepily. “It’s good to see them that way. It was a hard few years, for both of them.”
He drew her gently closer. “You and I will give them a run for their money,” he whispered at her ear. “You color my world, Meredith. I’d do anything for you.”
“Anything?” she teased.
“Absolutely.”
“Then recite another poem,” she said softly.
He laughed, then kissed her, tenderly. “Okay. Here goes.” And he found another poem in his memory.
* * *
TONY GARZA JUST STARED at the portrait at first, both big hands in his pockets, his head cocked to one side, his dark eyes narrowed and quiet on the painting.
Merrie had captured him perfectly in oils. The background was surprising. There was a window behind him, where a garden could just be seen, part of which was covered with trailing vines on delicate stakes. On one of the vines were ripe red tomatoes, so lifelike that the viewer could almost taste them. Tony was perching on a desk. His big hands were beside him, on the edges of the oak desk. His fingernails were immaculate. There was a ruby ring on his little finger. There was a faint scar on the back of one hand, a carved symbol that Merrie hadn’t understood, but she painted it there anyway. There was a chain, like that of a watch fob, at his waist. It was gold. On the end of it she’d painted a Celtic cross—an odd thing she hadn’t understood, either, because she couldn’t picture
Tony being religious. On the wall behind Tony’s head was a small black silhouette of a woman’s head in a framed painting. The background of the entire painting was a rich, lush burgundy, with folds like velvet along both sides.
Tony let out a long, long breath. He shook his head.
Merrie just watched him. She knew he loved it.
He turned and looked at her with affectionate dark eyes. “You really do see deep, honey,” he said softly.
“Can you tell me what those things mean?” she asked. “If it isn’t prying too much, I mean.”
His thick eyebrows went up. “You painted it and you don’t know what they mean?”
She shook her head, her eyes as innocent as a child’s. “I just sort of paint what comes to me.”
He laughed softly. “A true gift.” He turned back to the painting. “I love to cook. I can make lasagna, too, although mine isn’t as good as Mandy’s. I grow my own tomatoes and herbs. I like to garden.” He hesitated. “The scar on the back of my hand was put there by a rival gang member when I was about fourteen. He meant to kill me, but a friend of mine stopped him just in time. The symbol is his gang’s sign.”
“You never had it erased,” she commented.
“It reminds me that, no matter how sure we seem to be, life is full of unexpected things. It also reminds me not to get too cocky about my own abilities.” He paused. He dug his fingers deep into his pockets and made fists there. “The cross on the watch fob is my mother’s. She was Catholic, deeply religious. I don’t wear the watch very much. Just for special occasions. But I leave the cross on its chain, to honor her. She prayed for me every day of her life. She always hoped I’d turn into somebody...better...than I was.” He shrugged. “People are what they are. You can change stuff on the surface. Inside, not so much.” He turned to her. “It’s a masterpiece. I want to pay you for it.”
She smiled and shook her head. “I don’t ever charge for my work,” she said.
“I know you live in a nice house, but your dad lost everything to the Feds because of what he was doing,” he began.
She laughed softly. “My mother had all the money. She left Sari and me millions in her will. So, I really don’t need the money. But if you want to do something with what you’d have paid me for the portrait, suppose you donate it to your mother’s church?”
He smiled with genuine affection. “I really like you,” he said softly. “If I’d had a daughter, I’d have liked her to turn out just the way you are.”
“That’s the nicest thing anybody’s said to me in a long time,” she said softly.
He just grinned.
* * *
“YOU’RE SURE THE hit man won’t come along after you’re gone and pop her when nobody’s expecting it?” Paul asked Tony worriedly.
“Not a chance,” came the reply. “That’s all handled. You see the portrait she painted of me?” he asked.
Paul nodded. “Best work she’s ever done, and that’s saying something.”
He cocked his head. “You won’t get in any trouble for letting me stay here?”
“Nah,” Paul drawled. “I just told people that you were wandering the streets looking for handouts and Merrie let you stay until she could find you a proper home.” His eyes were twinkling.
Tony hit his shoulder with a big fist. “Watch your back.”
Paul chuckled. “You going to stay for the wedding?” he added. “Ren’s marrying Merrie in three days. They went to get a marriage license this morning, and to buy rings.”
“Three days? Why not,” Tony said. “I got no place special to be for a while.”
“Then you’re invited. And Merrie has something she wants to ask you.”
“Does she? What?”
“She’ll tell you tonight.”
* * *
WHEN MERRIE ASKED HIM, Tony had to avert his eyes so that nobody noticed their sudden brightness. Merrie asked him to walk her down the aisle.
“It’s okay, if you’d rather not...” she began, afraid she’d insulted him somehow.
“I’d be honored,” he managed in a rough tone. He swiped at his eyes with the back of one big hand before he turned back to her. “I mean that.”
She beamed. “Okay, then. Thanks!”
He drew in a breath. “You’re welcome. I’ll have to rustle up a proper suit. Hey, Big Ben,” he called to one of his men.
“Sir!” the man replied.
“Drive up to San Antonio and find me a tux with all the works. Don’t forget cuff links.”
“Yes, sir!”
“You know the size.” He pulled out a gold card and tossed it to the man. “Call me if you have any problems.”
“Sure thing, boss!”
“A tux?” Barton asked, having come in at the end of the conversation. “You getting married, Mr. Garza?”
“Nope. I seem to be the father of the bride,” Tony replied with twinkling eyes.
“Really?”
“Really,” Merrie assured him. “Never mind that I’m blonde and he’s not,” she added facetiously.
Tony laughed uproariously.
“What is it?” Merrie asked.
“Oh, God.” He could barely stop laughing. “Listen, when you two have kids, guess what that will make me?” He waited a beat. “The Godfather!”
“I wouldn’t touch that line with a pole,” Barton said, tongue in cheek, and he kept walking.
* * *
THE PERFECT WEDDING GOWN for Merrie was found in Marcella’s boutique in town. It was acres of white lace over white satin, with a long train and a fingertip veil topped by a tiara. It had long sleeves and a rounded neckline. It made Merrie look like a fairy princess, Sari said as she helped her try it on.
“I still can’t believe it,” Merrie said. “I mean, I ran away from Wyoming because I thought he hated me.”
“Obviously, that wasn’t the case. Plus he’s marrying you in a church,” she added.
“That was the biggest surprise of all.”
“It wouldn’t be, if you’d seen him sitting in the chapel at the hospital,” Sari replied somberly. “From what you’d told me about him, it was an indication of how deeply he felt about you.”
Merrie nodded. “He’s changed. It’s a very good change,” she said softly. “But he still hasn’t really said what he feels.”
“Paul didn’t, either, but I knew,” Sari replied. “It was in the way he looked at me. It’s the same way Ren looks at you, sweetheart,” she added. “You’re his whole world.”
“He’s mine, too.”
“That was nice of you, to ask Mr. Garza to give you away at the wedding. He isn’t what he seems, is he?”
“Not at all. I hoped you wouldn’t mind,” she said. “I wouldn’t have wanted Daddy to give me away. But I really couldn’t ask anyone else locally, for fear of hurting someone’s feelings. So Mr. Garza seemed the perfect choice. I’m still surprised that it touched him that deeply.”
“Mikey says he was married years ago and his wife died young. He wanted kids really badly but they never had any.”
“Maybe that’s why.”
Sari smiled. “Maybe so. Now we have to go shopping for casual clothes.”
“Nothing risqué,” Merrie said. “We’re going to Tangier for our honeymoon. I don’t want to make people uncomfortable. Attitudes are very different over there.”
“As if you ever wore anything reckless in your life!” Sari chided. “You’ll fit right in in Morocco.”
“It’s such an exotic place for a honeymoon,” Merrie sighed. “I’m shell-shocked. Two months ago I was so miserable. I’d never even been on a date!”
“How times change.” Sari laughed.
“You think it will be okay, traveling so far away?” Merrie worried. “T
ony says I’m safe, but I’m still worried.”
“If Tony says you’re safe, then you’re safe,” Sari replied. “Believe me, if he called off the contract, it’s called off. Nobody sane would refuse him.”
“Okay, then.” She laughed. “Oh, I’m so happy!”
Sari hugged her. “I’m so happy for you!” She hesitated. “Ren had a call from Randall today, didn’t he?”
“Yes. His mother’s biopsy was positive,” she replied. “I’m going to make sure we go and see her before we leave for Morocco. Since we’re going in our own jet, and the hotel reservations were made, at least we don’t have to worry about getting seats on some overcrowded plane.”
“Does he want to go and see his mother?” Sari asked.
“Actually, I think he does. Randall said he’d been mellowing toward her for some time now.” She smiled at Sari. “Families should stick together, when they can.”
“They should.” Sari smiled back.
* * *
THE WEDDING WAS a big event. The small Methodist church in Jacobsville, where Sari and Merrie had attended for years, was packed to capacity. Reverend Jake Blair, the pastor, smiled at the odd assemblage occupying the bride’s side of the church. There were some equally odd people on the groom’s. Some were still wearing combat gear, having only had time enough to swing by for the wedding on the way to active duty.
Merrie was so happy that she was almost floating when Sari put the finishing touches on the pins holding up her long blond hair.
“There,” Sari said. “You’re perfect!”
Merrie stood up. “I’m so scared,” she blurted out, and then flushed, because she wanted to marry Ren more than she wanted anything in the world.
“It will be all right,” Sari assured her. “Everybody’s scared, darling. Everybody. It’s a big step. Just take a deep breath, and relax.”
Merrie took a deep breath. She wished it had relaxed her.
She went out to find Tony Garza, handsome in the latest wedding finery, waiting for her. She went up to him, smiling, and took his arm.
He shook his head. “You’re the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen, next to my own late wife. You look gorgeous.”