Don't Let It Be True

by Jo Barrett

He’d been “in the country” for weeks on end, and he stank of insect repellent and stale beer. The mobile home where he and Wyatt were spending their nights had only two minutes’ worth of hot water, so they took turns showering.

  Wyatt spent his days trolling the remote areas of the ranch, taking potshots with his rifle out the Toyota’s driver’s side window. A week ago, he’d killed a wild boar, strung it up with cable wire, skinned it whole, and served the fresh meat over a spit fire to all the men at the drill site.

  Wyatt was always everyone’s hero.

  Dylan sat down next to Einrich. He was sweating, and he pulled the packet of Tums from his pocket and popped the last one in his mouth. Besides the constant stomachache and the smell of his own BO, he felt good about spending day and night at the rig. He wasn’t just a bystander, but had taken a major working role alongside his geologist and the engineers on site. He even spent time with the supervisors barking out orders for the roughnecks.

  When one of the field hands had failed his weekly drug test, Dylan had fired the man on the spot. This wasn’t a place for the restless and lackadaisical, he figured.

  Each man on the team had to work in concert with the others. There was no room for hotheads or troublemakers. And roughnecks weren’t known for their charming personalities. Dylan’s job was to keep the drill site running smooth, and everyone in check.

  So far, there hadn’t been any major personality clashes or scuffles. Not like on the offshore rigs out in the Gulf of Mexico, where the men were stuck on platforms in the middle of all that churning blue sea, which tended to make them crazier than the onshore drilling hands.

  If anything, it was the heat, the mosquitoes, the twenty-four hours of streaming bright white lights surrounding the rig, and the constant hammering of the drill bit looming all through the day and night that could make a person crazy.

  Dylan had worked the night shift—the “vampire shift”—for three straight weeks, because Einrich Von Hearn liked his beauty rest.

  He sucked on the Tums and rubbed his eyelids. Even with Kathleen’s infusion of cash, Dylan was still over budget. One of the drill parts had gotten too hot and nearly exploded, so he’d been forced to order a new one and wait for the repair. In desperation, he’d taken out a loan from the community bank in the small town of Plattsville in order to divvy out last week’s paychecks. He’d fudged on all the loan documents, and was praying that he wouldn’t end up in jail.

  Dylan felt a large thud on his shoulder, and realized it was Einrich. His geologist had clapped him on the back, and was beaming at him with his expressive, twinkly eyes.

  “Look, look!” he boomed, pointing at one of the computer screens.

  Dylan tried not to flinch. He’d gotten used to Einrich shouting all his sentences. The geologist had long since lost his hearing. Spending so many years next to the screeching drills had robbed the Golden Buddha of his ears.

  “We made it to sixteen thousand!” Einrich shouted.

  “Good deal,” Dylan said.

  One thousand feet to go, he thought, and then we’ll know for sure.

  “You must leave and take break! You look like walking dead man!” Einrich yelled in Dylan’s ear.

  “I want to be here for the last thousand feet,” Dylan grumbled. He wanted to remain at the drill site, but Saturday night was right around the corner. And he and Kathleen had already made their big plan. A plan that couldn’t be broken.

  “Do not worries!” Einrich boomed, clapping Dylan on the shoulder once more. “You stay, you go! Does not matter. It will be as it will be!”

  Dylan exhaled slowly. The geologist was right. There was nothing left for him here. Nothing left except to wait.

  Dylan shook Einrich’s outstretched hand and stepped outside the mobile command unit into the sun. Wyatt was standing next to the Toyota truck. His younger brother was wearing a wide-brimmed cowboy hat and sunglasses. He was smoking a cigar.

  “You ready, big brother?” he asked, puffing a ring of smoke into the air.

  Dylan strode toward the pickup and kicked the dirt with the toe of his boot.

  “Ready as ever,” he said.

  The two brothers climbed into the truck and set off for Houston.

  Fifty-eight

  Kathleen couldn’t believe the big day had finally arrived. The King Foundation Annual Dinner promised to be a lavish affair with all the bells and whistles. The evening would begin with champagne and cocktails, along with strolling violinists from the Houston Symphony playing Chopin in unison. Then Kathleen’s guests would be summoned into the main dining room, which was lit by thousands of tiny white candles. The tables were trimmed with white tablecloths with antique silver place settings bearing the King family crest.

  Kathleen had spent hours with the florist to create the perfect table centerpieces. Hand-tied, all white floral bouquets overflowing with calla lilies, stephanotis, and Vendela roses.

  At the behest of Shelby Lynn Pierce, the six-course French dinner would actually be seven, as it included a cheese course. For the wine pairings, Kathleen had worked directly with a sommelier and wine merchant to have specialty vintages flown in from St. Emilion. The wine pairing with each course reflected a different family-owned vineyard in France, and was not available for sale in the United States. For the main course, Kathleen had selected a newly released Pomerol that no one except the vintner and his French sommelier had ever tasted.

  In the center of the dining room, a beautiful white stage had been arranged for the fashion show featuring Kinkaid Whipley’s “vintage couture.” Afterward, Walton Riley and the Riley Big Band would take the stage and proceed to play from their Grammy Award–winning album. The night would end with dancing and Whipley’s specialty chocolate crepes. Kathleen had also ordered a four-tiered white Italian cream cake from Let Them Eat Cake!, the best event bakery in Houston.

  Kathleen did a final walk-through of the space and realized that she couldn’t have planned for a more magical evening. The setting took her breath away, and she leaned toward one of the tables and smelled the fragrant flowers. Closing her eyes, she said a silent prayer.

  This would be the most special evening of her life. And she wanted it to be perfect. At the head table, she’d seated Jonathan and Kinkaid Whipley, Shelby Lynn Pierce and Bo Harlan, Dr. Levin and his wife, and her and Dylan. Wyatt was bringing “the woman of his dreams,” which was Aunt Lucinda, of course.

  Kathleen checked the clock on the wall. The Annual Foundation Dinner started in less than an hour.

  I’m late! she thought. She’d lost track of time. She hurried toward the bank of elevators that would whisk her up to the hotel suite that she’d reserved for the night. When she finally reached the hotel room, Dylan was nowhere to be found.

  “Dylan!” Kathleen shouted.

  “In here, hon,” came the reply.

  Kathleen found him inside the bathroom putting on his tux. She beamed at her fiancé. He looked dynamite in the penguin suit, with his dark hair slicked back and his broad shoulders filling out the jacket perfectly. He was wearing a white bow tie and matching white pocket scarf.

  “Hon, I swear you’d be late to your own birthday party,” Dylan quipped, straightening his bow tie in the mirror.

  Kathleen giggled and took her dress out of the hang-up bag. She held it up for Dylan to see.

  He whistled through his teeth. “Some dress,” he remarked.

  “You can’t watch me while I’m getting ready,” Kathleen said, tapping her foot against the bathroom tile. “Those are the rules.”

  Dylan saluted her as if she were in the military. “Yes, ma’am. If you need me for anything, you know where I’ll be,” he said, walking into the living room of the suite and plopping down onto the sofa. Kathleen heard him flick on the television and click over to the Golf Channel.

  Kat raced around the bathroom like a madwoman. She pulled her dress over her head, hopping up and down to get it over her waist. Reaching back to the tiny string she’d affixed to
the zipper, she was able to zip the dress all the way up her back. Then she took the white headpiece made with seed pearls and tiny fresh white flowers and placed it on her head. Sweeping a sheer lip gloss across her lips, Kathleen admired herself in the mirror.

  “Dylan!” she called out to the next room.

  “You ready?”

  “I’m ready,” she said.

  Dylan’s head popped around the bathroom door. “You look beautiful,” he breathed. “You nervous?”

  Kathleen smiled. Not one speck, she thought.

  Fifty-nine

  The cocktail hour had come and gone, but Kathleen and Dylan were nowhere to be found. Houston society had been ushered inside the main dining room and taken their seats. Everyone was waiting for Kathleen Connor King—the mistress of ceremonies—to take the stage. Usually Kathleen took the stage and proceeded to thank everyone for their generous support of the children’s hospital. A brief slide show revealing the strides made by the foundation in attempting to cure pediatric cancer was typically shown prior to the food being served. But this year, Kathleen was nowhere to be found.

  “Where are they?” Shelby Lynn whispered across the table to Kinkaid Whipley, as an awkward silence descended upon the room.

  Shelby Lynn was wearing a strapless pink silk gown that she’d bought in Milan, along with a pink diamond ring the size of Ecuador.

  “How would I know?” Kinkaid said, adjusting the strap on her dress. She glanced around the dining room. “I don’t see them. They’re both MIA.”

  “C’mon, ladies. Give me a break,” Wyatt drawled. “Dylan and Kat haven’t seen each other in months. They’re probably up in their hotel room playing a famous little game called ‘Find the Sausage.’”

  “Nice image, child,” Lucinda said, patting Wyatt on his knee.

  “I knew you’d appreciate that, Luce,” Wyatt joked, shooting Lucinda his superstar smile.

  “Don’t you be looking at me like that! I’ll smack those fancy blue eyes right out of yo’ head,” Lucinda said, rapping Wyatt against the side of his head.

  Bo Harlan threw his head back and laughed. “If you think that stings, son, you should try playing her in poker.”

  Wyatt stared hard across the table at Bo Harlan. “I guess you’d know a thing or two about that,” he snapped.

  “Easy, Wyatt,” Shelby Lynn said, flicking a single warning finger in the air.

  Lucinda patted Wyatt on his knee. “Be nice, child,” she whispered. “There’s more to this story than meets the eye.”

  Wyatt swung around toward Lucinda and leaned in to her ear. “I can’t believe Kat seated him at our table! What was she thinking?”

  “Be patient, child. You may have a few surprises in store.” Lucinda winked.

  Suddenly the doors to the dining room swept open, and a chorus of singers and orchestra musicians flooded the room. The music grew louder as the singers streamed around the tables, plying everyone with a pop version of “Amazing Grace.” They snapped their fingers to the beat and encouraged people to sing along with them, while the musicians played around each table.

  “What on earth?” Jonathan Whipley asked.

  Kinkaid shrugged her shoulders. “Heck if I know.”

  Bo Harlan turned toward Shelby Lynn Pierce. “This ought to be good,” he said.

  A collective gasp was heard from around the room as people spotted Dylan and Kathleen.

  The bride wore a floor-length white gown. Instead of a veil, she’d tucked a flower garland decorated with white seed pearls around her head. In her hands, she carried a small, tight bouquet of fresh white roses.

  The groom looked dashing in his black tuxedo, with the single small bud white rose pinned to his lapel.

  Both Kathleen and Dylan were grinning from ear to ear. They swept through the center of the room arm-in-arm, and walked toward the stage. As they passed the head table with their “family,” seated at it, Wyatt stood up and began to clap.

  Dylan’s younger brother had tears streaming down his face, and the rest of the audience followed him and stood, too.

  A master of ceremonies approached the microphone and asked everyone in the audience to please be seated and bow their heads in prayer.

  Kathleen and Dylan gave each other a knowing smile as they approached the minister on stage. They turned toward each other, clasped each other’s hands, and began to recite their vows…

  “Kathleen,” Dylan began in a solid voice…

  “You are the woman I was meant to marry. You are the only woman I have ever loved. You have been the constant light in my life. My center. My sun. I want to be with you always, until death do us part. I promise to love, respect, and take care of you until my dying day. I am yours, to the very depths of my soul.

  “I am yours, Kathleen.”

  Kathleen allowed a single teardrop to dot her cheek. She wasn’t wearing makeup, so it didn’t matter much. She clasped Dylan’s hand in hers and rolled a small silver ring onto his wedding finger.

  “With this ring, I thee wed,” she said quietly.

  The minister raised his arms in the air and said, “I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

  Dylan leaned forward and gave Kat a gentle peck on the lips. But it wasn’t enough. He grabbed her around the waist, pulled her close into his arms, and laid a big, memorable smooch on her.

  Kat smiled at her new husband and said. “Way to go, Prince Charming.”

  She and Dylan turned toward the audience and waved to everyone as the minister announced, “May I present to you the newly married couple…Mr. Dylan Charles Grant and Mrs. Kathleen Connor King.”

  Everyone in the dining room jumped to their feet and applauded loudly. Kathleen and Dylan turned to each other and beamed. A few weeks ago, they’d determined that the Annual Foundation Dinner was the perfect setting for their surprise wedding. Their dear friends and “family” would be there, and no one would have to make a big fuss. There would be no gifts, no bridal registry, no groomsmen or bridesmaids—none of the traditional pomp and circumstance.

  It was perfect. Just as they’d wanted it.

  Dylan and Kathleen walked around the tables and greeted all their guests, who couldn’t hide their shocked faces. C. Todd Hartwell and Steve, who’d been invited at the last minute by Kat, shouted out, “Congratulations!” as Dylan passed by their table.

  When Dylan reached the head table, he and Wyatt clutched each other in a deep bear hug. Both brothers let the tears fall freely.

  Shelby Lynn and Kinkaid gave Kathleen the thumbs-up, and there was not a single dry eye at the entire table. Even Bo Harlan’s traditional poker face was streaked with tears.

  It had been a meaningful event, a beautiful experience.

  Kathleen walked toward the stage once again, and the audience took their seats and quieted down.

  She stood in front of the microphone, dressed in her wedding gown, and glanced around at everyone inside the dining room.

  A smile lit up her face.

  “Before we get started with this year’s King Family Foundation Dinner, I have a surprise for you,” she began…which caused everyone in the room to burst out laughing.

  Kathleen waited for the laughter to subside before continuing.

  “I can’t imagine a greater wedding gift,” she said, “than that of your generous support. Thank you for coming this evening and for being part of this special day. I want you to know how much I appreciate your year after year support of the King Family Foundation. The Pediatric Cancer Hospital is the reason we are here,” Kathleen said. She motioned toward a table near the stage. “And on that note, I’d like to welcome Diego Ramirez and his family to this event. Diego was a patient at the hospital just a few short months ago. And I’m happy to say he’s a survivor.” Kathleen smiled at Diego and his parents.

  The audience burst out clapping, and Kathleen waited until they’d finished.

  “Your contribution makes a profound difference in the lives of children,
and I would like to recognize one person in particular who raised the bar this year by donating a half-million dollars. And that person is Bo Harlan,” Kathleen said, motioning toward Bo Harlan.

  The stocky oilman stood in his seat and took a small bow.

  Dylan and Wyatt gave each other a look, but Lucinda and Shelby Lynn shot them the evil eye, and they both settled down.

  “I would also like to thank Dr. Victor Levin for his ongoing service to the hospital. Dr. Levin is more than a doctor. He is a visionary, and a personal family friend. Thank you, Dr. Levin, for your continuous service.”

  Dr. Levin nodded toward Kathleen, and his wife patted him jovially on the shoulder.

  “And finally, I would like to say how fortunate Dylan and I are to have you join us on this special day. We chose this dinner as the site for our wedding because we could think of no better gift than the gift of friends and family. And the gift you’ve given to the Pediatric Cancer Hospital is the best wedding present a couple could ever ask for. Thank you once again. Thank you…”

  Kathleen smiled broadly and walked off the stage to the sound of a thunderous standing ovation.

  When she reached the main table, Dylan swooped her up in his arms and planted a big, fat kiss on her lips.

  “Nice one, brother,” Wyatt said. He stood and raised a toast to the new bride and groom. Everyone in the dining room raised their glasses and toasted the newly married couple in unison, and shouted, “Hear, hear!”

  Sixty

  Dylan requested for the band to play, “What a Wonderful World,” by Louis Armstrong.

  He sang softly in Kat’s ear as he swung her around the dance floor. He felt Kat’s head resting on his shoulder. Kathleen. His wife. And Dylan couldn’t feel more proud.

  When the song lyrics got to “I hear babies crying, I watch them grow…” Kathleen stared into Dylan’s eyes.

  “We have to escape,” she said suddenly.

  Dylan nodded and took her by the hand. “Where to?”

  “How about the room?”