The Proviso

by Moriah Jovan

  Chairs scraped the marble floors as those hundreds of people stood to look back at Justice and Richard.

  Down the long aisle toward the center of Union Station, under the enormous and locally famous clock that had just struck, stood Knox in black tails and white tie, looking back at her, eagerly, anxiously, flanked by Bryce and Sebastian, also in white tie. Directly across from them stood Giselle and Eilis, in black velvet under shimmering black-and-gold organza, gold, silver, and white ribbons embellishing their dresses wherever appropriate.

  In front of Giselle and Eilis stood Eric and Patrick, and in between the two groups stood Judge Wilson, who seemed a lot happier about this wedding than he had about the wedding he’d performed a year and a half before.

  Justice smiled.

  Richard walked her down the aisle at a moderate pace so that Justice could see and silently greet with smiles the masses of people who had come to Kansas City for the very public wedding between the OKH Enterprises heir and the golden girl of conservative punditry.

  From the back, the celebrity parade began: politicians and commentators on Justice’s side of the aisle; the academicians and lawyers, artists and entrepreneurs on Knox’s side. The cream of Kansas City society was present, with almost no consideration given as to who should be seated beside whom. They stood amongst the cadre of attorneys in the Chouteau County justice system, almost all the deputies, and most of the rest of the county employees. If there were any missing, Justice couldn’t name them. Judy gave her a cute grin and a wave, which she returned.

  A few Kansas City police officers and FBI agents, and half the state troopers who patrolled the section of highway that ran through Chouteau County—in dress uniform—were also sprinkled throughout the congregated. Hadley and his wife were on her side of the aisle and Justice stuck her tongue out at him. He roared a laugh, the troopers nearby whooping right along with him. Justice grinned, and she could feel Richard’s chuckle.

  A good portion of the population of Wright and Douglas counties had shown up, to the wedding coordinator’s consternation. It had only taken one black look from Justice for her to get enough chairs set up to accommodate them.

  Jack and Lydia Blackwood looked absolutely stunning together with their two striking adolescent children and their equally striking three-year-old twins.

  Melinda Newman, with an adorable six-year-old girl next to her, gave her a nervous smile, too distracted, Justice was sure, by her very, very dark and handsome escort. Justice snickered into her flowers and Melinda blasted her with a dangerous scowl.

  Over there was Geoff Hale and his wife, plus most of the partners and spouses of Hale and Ravenwood.

  And on the other side were Mr. and Mrs. Van Horn, Christopher, and their other two children—the whole family having been assimilated into the tribe, unable to resist Sebastian when he was dead set on getting his way.

  The entire executive staff of HR Prerogatives had turned out, including its new CEO Karen Cheng, whose daughter had died and whose marriage had not survived her death.

  Mitch Hollander, CEO of Hollander Steelworks, also spouseless, stood with Senator and Mrs. Oakley.

  More than two hundred seats toward the front flanking both sides of the aisle were Knox’s tribe—her tribe. Morgan had insisted on sitting on Justice’s side of the aisle and winked at her as she passed by. She blushed, then almost laughed out loud when she saw Knox roll his eyes. Mixed amongst them were other people special enough to the whole pack to be drawn into the family.

  This wedding wasn’t about Justice and Knox at all. It was about the end of a long, hard journey and the beginning of new, happy ones for all six of them and a fresh start between Knox and the Dunham tribe. The unusual day and time was, in Justice’s estimation, perfect.

  Aunt Dianne served as mother of the bride, Mercy enfolded in her arms and leisurely taking a meal, a wide-eyed Alex Taight in a baby carrier at her feet chewing on his toes. Richard’s wife Alisha stood next to her, the seats next to her reserved for Richard and Patrick. Beyond that stood Hicks and his wife.

  Aunt Lilly served as mother of the groom (as she always had), burping Duncan Kenard against her shoulder. Next to her stood Eric’s fiancée, Anaïs Franklin. The empty seat next to Anaïs was for Eric. Beyond that, Dirk and Stephanie Jelarde stood.

  The only person missing was Vanessa, who had begged off politely enough, claiming Whittaker House’s nationally infamous New Year’s Eve masquerade. Knox had known when they set the date she wouldn’t be able to attend, since that masquerade brought in a full third of Whittaker House’s yearly revenue. Justice didn’t buy it, though; Vanessa was avoiding someone and Justice had a pretty good idea who—certainly not Sebastian, who managed Whittaker House’s capital. In lieu of her attendance, though, she’d arranged for everything Knox would need to recuperate in the Hilliard suite at Whittaker House and would be waiting for them when they arrived later that day. Whittaker House would be their home for the next few months.

  It was a long journey to Knox and Justice felt every step in her soul, her heart rejoicing not that she was in the middle of her fairy tale wedding, but because Knox was alive.

  In those agonizing hours between the time Knox had been pronounced dead at the scene and the moment nurses and doctors had burst from an elevator racing an occupied gurney out of the morgue, Justice had died a thousand times with memories of each word, each kiss and caress and sigh, each laugh, each argument, each dance—knowing that she had only had her fantasy for a year and a half, wanting more, but grateful for what she had and the precious gift he’d left her.

  Then her stubborn husband, barely alive, having been noted to have a pulse and resuscitated, had been rushed to an operating table to repair the extensive damage.

  “Who gives this woman to be married to this man?”

  Richard looked at Justice and smiled; she returned it merrily. Patrick and Eric turned to stand at Justice’s left. “I, Richard Connelly,” he said, loudly, clearly, so that it rang through Union Station as if it were a courtroom.

  “And I, Eric Cipriani.”

  “And I, Patrick Davidson.”

  Richard spoke again. “We, the unindicted co-conspirators of the Chouteau County prosecutor’s office, give this woman in marriage. For the second time.”

  Laughter exploded throughout the marbled hall and Knox would have laughed harder if he could’ve, but it took about all he had to chuckle and stand upright at the same time—and he’d refused a cane. Bryce and Sebastian didn’t stand as groomsmen for this wedding; they were there to catch him if he fell.

  Justice smiled as Eric and Patrick took their turns to kiss her on the cheek. Richard placed her hand in Knox’s and kissed her on the cheek, then left her there with her husband. He took his seat between his wife and Patrick. Justice looked at Knox and smiled wide; she had never seen him so beautiful.

  Exhausted

  Happy

  Pale

  Joyful

  Weak

  She gave her bouquet to Giselle and wrapped her arm around Knox’s waist. She laid her other hand flat on Knox’s abdomen to steady him as much as possible.

  It would be a long night for everyone, as there was much business to be conducted, but Knox had insisted the wedding go forward as planned. In turn, Justice had insisted on having his medical team present.

  Judge Wilson began to speak, though he could be counted on to keep his comments brief; he was a rough old backwoods judge of few words. Justice had always imagined he would’ve been most happy being a circuit rider.

  “The first time I married these two,” he said, his voice filled with warmth and cheer, “Justice thought she was participating at gunpoint.”

  Most of the congregated gasped, but those who knew Knox a little better chuckled and shook their heads.

  “I wouldn’t have agreed to do it at all, except I saw how she looked at Knox when she thought nobody was watching. Oh, hell, what am I saying? Everybody saw that.”

  Light laughter r
an through the crowd in waves, and Justice glanced at Knox with a blush and a bite of her lip. He chuckled at her and reached up to smooth a curl out of her eye.

  “Which brings us to today and the events that have transpired this month,” he concluded, a wry tone in his voice. “It just couldn’t be that Knox would get down on one knee and say, ‘Justice, I love you. Will you marry me?’ and have a nice little church wedding, because Knox Hilliard never does anything the easy way.”

  The entire place guffawed, including the wedding party, and Knox had the good grace to look sheepish.

  “Say your vows, boy.”

  Knox turned to Justice as well as he could with her arm still around his back, to run his finger lightly along Justice’s jawline, to play with a large copper curl. There was a suspicious glimmer in his eyes. He did not stop looking at her or playing with her hair as he spoke.

  “My wife,” he began, then cleared his throat. Justice marveled that his voice hadn’t suffered from his death and resurrection—because he had died. Its timbre was robust, powerful, full of a kind of joy that she had never heard before. Her nose stung when she remembered what he’d told her of the time that he’d spent elsewhere while his body lay in the morgue. She didn’t believe that any of what he told her had actually happened, but he had shared it with her anyway, knowing she would dismiss every detail as trauma-induced hallucination. Justice had sat silent throughout, listening, not allowing her skepticism to show because it was important to him. He believed—Giselle, Bryce, Sebastian believed; Eilis wanted to believe—and it gave them peace. That was all that mattered.

  “Iustitia, my wife, sacrificed her freedom to marry me. If I could not have married her, I would have married no one; OKH would be Sebastian’s and Bryce’s company with my blessing. I forced her to marry me, then let her go the next day because what I had done to her was evil. I have never known such despair and pain in my life as the day I watched her drive away, knowing I would never see her again, talk to her, touch her, kiss her. Yet two days later, she came back to me, believed in me, loved me, stayed with me. I have never known such joy and hope in my life.

  “Fully comprehending the risks and what would be asked of her, she chose to fight this fight with us and she has fought well. She took on the Chouteau County prosecutor and won. She took on a bully and a barbarian and won each battle. She took on Fen Hilliard—three times—” He stopped abruptly, then his lusty laugh rang out. “Priceless!”

  Out of all those hundreds of people, only about twenty understood Knox’s comment enough to laugh, but it was so genuine, so full of merriment that it sounded like many, many more and others joined in. It was good to laugh at a wedding.

  Knox waited, then continued. “She took on Fen Hilliard and won. She took on an intruder in our home and won. She ran barefoot through fire on broken glass to save our daughter’s life and succeeded. I would have nothing if it weren’t for her. I have no words to express my love for her. She is a woman of power and strength, fire and depth, and I pledge everything I have—including my life—to her.”

  And because Justice was the bride and she could do what she wanted to do, she leaned forward and kissed him softly. He returned it until Judge Wilson cleared his throat. “Save it, kids,” he muttered. “You’re messing up my rhythm.”

  Then it was Justice’s turn. She cleared her throat, staring into those very, very dark blue eyes she thought she would never see again.

  “‘Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments. Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds, or bends with the remover to remove: O no! it is an ever-fixed mark that looks on tempests and is never shaken; it is the star to every wandering bark, whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken. Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks within his bending sickle’s compass come: love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, but bears it out even to the edge of doom. If this be error and upon me proved, I never writ, nor no man ever loved.’”

  By the second sentence, Knox was murmuring it with her, with her cadence, a tear rolling down his cheek, an amazed smile on his face.

  They would not exchange rings this night; those were still on their rightful fingers, never to be taken off.

  “Do you, Fort Knox Oliver Hilliard, take this woman as your lifelong mate?”

  “I do.”

  “Do you, Iustitia Jane McKinley Hilliard, take this man as your lifelong mate?”

  “I do.”

  “I now pronounce you husband and wife. Again. Okay, now you may kiss the boy, Justice.”

  Their embrace was tight, their kiss long and deep. When they finally pulled apart, Knox whispered, “I love you, Iustitia.”

  “I love you, Knox. Please don’t do that to me again.”

  “Never.”

  They turned and Justice looked over her shoulder, up to the balcony of the Bistro. With a smile and a nod, electric guitar, synthesizer, and drums pounded through Union Station, ricocheting off the marble walls and floor. The choir of Justice’s faith had consented to play the recessional: “Freewill.”

  Half of the guests were shocked, but the other half—those politicos on Justice’s side of the aisle—laughed.

  It took a long time for Knox and Justice to make their way back up the aisle, between Knox’s difficulties and greeting people, shaking hands, garnering hugs. Bryce and Giselle, Sebastian and Eilis, followed closely behind them and socialized while keeping an eye on Knox. They’d only made a quarter of the distance to the end of the carpet before “New World Man” began.

  * * * * *

  MEANWHILE, BACK AT THE RANCH . . .

  JANUARY 1, 2009

  12:50 a.m.

  The OKH press liaison met the pack at the end of the red carpet. The wedding coordinator made sure the guests filed in the opposite direction, toward the vast front lobby of Union Station while the chairs were rapidly cleared. Everyone but Justice, Knox, and Mercy, the rest of the pack and their pups, would dance and snack, drink and mingle all night long. Five hundred-plus people with a legitimate excuse to have a party.

  After some time, an elevator ride up to the mezzanine, and quite a bit of shuffling, Justice and her family were arranged on a dais behind a podium littered with a dozen microphones. It bore the logo of OKH Enterprises, as did the navy curtain behind it. Camera flashes had already begun to pop and news camera lights and booms were everywhere.

  “Are you all right?” Justice whispered to Knox when he sighed and carefully rolled his head around on his neck.

  “I could use some more drugs,” he murmured in return, “and I’m really tired.” Her heart ached; he certainly looked worn out. She’d spend this wedding night driving to Mansfield, listening to Mercy’s snortles and snuffs and Knox’s pain- and narcotic-induced sleep, making sure he didn’t leave her again anytime soon—and that was just fine with her.

  Prepared, Justice dug in her tiny reticule for his painkillers. Knox swallowed them with a gulp from a water bottle swiped from the podium. He took a deep breath and stepped up to the microphones.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, good morning.” The room stilled but for the usual noises of technology. “As of five days ago, I inherited the majority shares of OKH Enterprises, the company my father, Oliver Hilliard, founded and my uncle, Fen Hilliard, built to its present success.

  “As you are all aware, four weeks ago, I shot and killed Fen Hilliard in defense of my wife and daughter. Subsequently, my mother, Trudy Hilliard, committed suicide. The reasons why this happened are detailed in a letter to the editor at the Wall Street Journal, so I won’t belabor that.

  “With regard to the events of December fourth: I have been cleared of any wrongdoing in Fen’s death and the shooting deaths of two intruders in our home. My wife, Justice McKinley Hilliard, has been cleared in the shooting death of a third intruder.

  “As you also know, I was shot three times by a federal agent for reasons which are still unclear and under investigation. I would like to express my
heartfelt gratitude to Dr. Powell, who noticed I wasn’t really dead before she started to carve me up—”

  A wry chuckle rolled in a wave around the room.

  “—and all the members of the medical team who worked to save my life that night. They have worked tirelessly for the last four weeks and have graciously allowed me to stand here on this day with my family.

  “With regard to my alleged criminal activities during my tenure as Chouteau County prosecutor: For the last four weeks, my financial advisor, Sebastian Taight, and my attorneys, Bryce Kenard and Eric Cipriani, have cooperated with the FBI fully to account for my actions, as I have been unable to do so. With their assistance and information, I have been cleared of all suspicion of bribery, extortion, blackmail, fraud, money laundering, racketeering, and murder, amongst a variety of other things I don’t care to recite.

  “I resigned my position as Chouteau County prosecutor as of two hours ago, December 31. Chouteau County executive assistant prosecutor Eric Cipriani will be taking over my duties in full as of right now, January 1, and will run for that position when the term ends. I want to offer him my full support in his campaign; I can think of no better man to lead Chouteau County’s law enforcement in a new direction. As of this coming August, I will be teaching law at Brigham Young University.

  “With regard to the official disposition of OKH Enterprises: Eilis Hilliard Logan Taight, as you all know, is my sister and the new CEO of OKH Enterprises as of December 27. She is highly qualified and in a unique position to look after the interests of OKH employees as Fen did and to continue the philanthropic tradition that Fen began. We have no interest in changing anything that Fen has done, because he did very well as steward of my father’s company and for that, we thank him. Eilis shares Fen’s business philosophy as well as his blood and is sensitive to the distress Fen’s passing will cause.

  “Morally, this company belongs to all six of us: Me, Justice, Sebastian, Eilis, Giselle, and Bryce. We were forced to purchase my inheritance in cash, in property, in time, in lost opportunities, heartache and fear, and finally, in blood. It could not have been done without all of us working as a team. So we’ve gathered in the remaining shares of OKH stock in order to take the company private as equal owners.