A/N: The ending.

Big Swamp

Chapter Twenty-Six: Intercession

Four Months Later

I'm sitting quietly in St. Dunstan's. It's a Tuesday. Choir practice is tonight..

But I've stopped by to talk to Father Casey this morning.

We've not gotten a chance to have a serious heart-to-heart lately. I've been busy and so has he. He's been dating Bolonia Grimes. It's been the delight of all their friends. It seems both so improbable and so fated. Add to that the fun of tormenting Morgan about having a Father father, and, well, it's been a hoot. — Except maybe for Morgan, who, although he got onto better terms with Father Casey during their fender-bending driving lessons — and yes, Morgan now has a license, God help us all! — remains mostly terrified of him. "It's that collar," Morgan keeps telling me. "All white and holy. It weirds me out." But his mom's happy, and that's enough to make Morgan deal with the collar.

Morgan's still dating Carina. She graduated and got hired as an assistant manager at the fancy Dixon Hotel and Conference Center, just across from campus — but she still also volunteers at the Humane Society. Morgan volunteers too, but, ever since the details about Jane Peterson became news, he's been finicky about cats. Mostly, he exercises the dogs.

Despite his raise, Morgan quit working for me. Big Jim Sutton hired him to handle security at Briggs and Stratton, created the position for Morgan, even paid for Morgan to take a Security Guard Training Course. It all seems like overkill, the position, and the training — since Morgan doesn't do much more than wear an unloaded gun, walk by the lockers now and then and walk the grounds. Mostly, he drinks coffee with the factory workers during their coffee breaks, helps Rhoda with the phones, and shows guests around. But he likes it; Big Jim pays him handsomely. Morgan bought himself a car, oddly enough a used Chrysler 300 (no, not that one). As he said, "If you can't beat 'em, buy 'em." Morgan's still a master of words, as you can tell.

Carina has helped him in that regard, though. He now resorts less often to mere vocables. — Except, Carina says, at certain moments between them...But telling you that will embarrass Morgan, and of course, that's why Carina delights in telling Sarah and me in front of him.

Morgan's changed enough that Ellie now speaks to him. He did burn The Bikini Diaries. He invited me over and burned them in Bolonia's backyard grill. "The passing of an era," he intoned, baseball hat in hand as the pages curled and blackened.

I still see Hannah regularly, at Ed's. Sarah's almost always with me on those visits. Even though Hannah's dating Barry Ziff, and even though it seems serious, Sarah has never fully trusted Hannah around me. Hannah seems happy to me though, and I know Barry is. Hannah's talking about going back to school, getting a teaching degree. I've encouraged her to do it. She'd be a great teacher.

I don't see Shaw regularly, not at Ed's or anywhere else. It turned out he was working for Wade Peterson, and for a time, he was listed as a person of interest in Jane Peterson's murder. He wasn't involved it turns out. Wade had hired him to lean on me the one time, but that was all. Still, Shaw's name made it into the papers and he's not been big on public appearances since. He's still working, still the competition, but at least I don't have to endure him or his entourage at Ed's anymore. Although, to tell the truth, the one time the entourage was there Sarah was too, and when they started on me — even without Shaw there — Sarah gave them the same glare she gave Jill's boys, and they shut up immediately. Jill and Will and the boys are all fine. Sarah and I have babysat for them a couple of times, trades for favors from Jill.

And besides, Sarah likes the boys. She calls it practice. I think I know what that means.

I should say that the reason why Sarah is at Ed's with me is not primarily Hannah. It's that we work together. I asked her to be my partner at the agency, and she accepted. We renamed the agency: we're now Deep South Investigators. I bought the building from Langston. He moved his practice closer to the Courthouse. He never told me who asked him to hire me.

Sarah sailed through the test to become an Alabama PI, and her Sarah Walker legend held up — there were no worries about moral turpitude. We redid the offices so that there's a small foyer and two adjoining larger offices, one for Sarah and one for me. Bolonia Grimes works mornings for us as our receptionist and keeps us and our paperwork straight. She runs her dress shop now only in the afternoons.

Working with Sarah's great. It helps that we became a team before we formally became a team. We just fit together professionally — there's a natural division of professional labor. I like to say that I'm the brains and she's the brawn, but she always makes me pay for that, — and the truth is that I suspect she's both the brains and the brawn and that I'm just along for the ride.

But I'll take it. I love her more than words can say.

We fit together personally too, and in all the best ways. In fact, that's a big reason I'm here, waiting to talk to Father Casey. I have a ring in my pocket and I need to talk to my friend about it.

I talked to Ellie about it last night. She's all for it, all excited. I'm under strict orders to take Sarah to Ellie's house later.

Oh, one other big change is that I moved out, bought a house of my own, although it's just a couple of blocks from Ellie. Sarah helped me pick it out. She loves the yard. I guess we both know what it meant that I asked her to help me house-shop, that I bought the house she loved. Don't misunderstand, I loved it too. It's an old Craftsman-style house with a great front porch and back porch, a deep, fenced-in yard, overhung by a massive and beautiful Silver Maple tree. I've been in it for a couple of months, and Sarah's been helping me decorate it. Carina and Ellie, now both close to Sarah, have helped too. The truth is that all I do is carry things and push things. As Sarah says, at home, I'm the brawn and she's the brains. I love that she says that: at home.

Sarah and Jack are still at the Hall, although they'll be moving soon. Jack bought a newly built house in Auburn, in one of the upscale neighborhoods near campus, and it'll be ready for them in a week or so. As far as Sarah and I can tell, Jack has given up conning. He's been dating Sherry Louden — and he even told her about himself, his past. She knows his name is not really Wylie Stroud, although he's kept that name, and Sarah continues publicly as his niece, not his daughter. Sherry doesn't seem fazed by any of it. The two of them have a great time together. (At the moment, they're vacationing at her Florida home.) Jack keeps threatening to make me a member of the Club, but I've told him that I'm happy just as a visitor.

Ellie gave away most of her money to charities, but she did make some improvements at her office and she did take on a physician's assistant. Her practice keeps growing. She's a terrific doctor.

Together, we started a charity in our mom and dad's name to assist orphaned children. I talked Sarah into letting me use a chunk of my money to repay people she'd conned, the ones who weighed most on her mind. We found ways to get money anonymously to most of them. I believe it quieted Sarah's mind and drew us closer. She complained about shifting debts from her victims to me — but I explained that I am her voluntary victim and that her debts I regard as mine. I think she knows what I meant. What I mean. What I'm planning.

I'm going to ask after choir practice.

I hear footsteps and look up. I'd been staring at the shining wooden floor as I thought. I look up expecting to see Father Casey but it's Diana Beckman.

"Hi, Chuck," she says quietly, "I didn't know you were a praying man."

I missed her when I came in. She must've stepped out of the office. I grin but shake my head. "I'm not."

She lifts an eyebrow. "I don't know, mediating here, head down — do you have to intend to pray in order to pray?"

I don't know the answer to that. And I suppose, given what I'm planning, that I am in a prayerful mood, an asking mood.

She sits down in the pew in front of mine. "Say, Chuck, any word about the new Burney Lennox novel?"

I nod. I've finished it and it's with the publisher. "Yeah, the word is that it's going to be published in the Spring."

"What'd you call it?"

"Do I Not Bleed?" I answer before I consider the question. I stop and look at her. "I mean, that's what I've heard the title is."

She smiles at me. "C'mon, Chuck, I've known all along you write those books. No one could talk to you about them as I have and not know. Besides, you talk like a writer."

I stare at her. "You knew?"

She shrugs. "Yes." She narrows her eyes. "So, is Burney taking on a partner too?"

"Yes, he is."

"A beautiful blonde?"

"Yes."

"Art imitating life?"

I shrug. "I suppose. I hope."

She shifts in the pew, taking my meaning. "Tonight?"

"After practice."

"Good luck. You're both lucky, Chuck."

"Thanks, Diana."

She stares at me for a moment. "Thanks to you, Chuck. Since we're trading secrets."

"Thanks for what, Diana?"

"For Jane Peterson. For unearthing her true story, putting her to rest."

"It was you? You're the one who went to Langston?"

She looks around then back to me. "Yes. She was the only one of the Club girls who was ever nice to me when I was younger. And I never liked that boy of hers — there was always something wrong with him." She pauses. "I just had a hunch, like Burney, or the other detectives in the books."

"But why not just ask me yourself?"

"Those young girls in the Club set didn't like Jane being nice to me. They started some...rumors. They weren't true, and they died out, but those young girls are now old girls, and I worried that if I started making inquiries about Jane's death, they'd resurrect the old stories, reanimate them. — One of the dangers of never marrying is that folks think there's some luridish story, and they won't accept that the true story is that I never met the right man."

"I'm sorry you didn't, Diana."

She shakes her head. 'You came along twenty years too late, Chuck." She gives me a teasing grin. "But I don't begrudge you to Sarah. I like her a lot, Chuck." She winks at me. "I have it on good authority that she's going to say yes. Have faith!"

Father Casey walks up just as Diana finishes. "Hey, kid, what's up?"

Diana gets up and excuses herself, hurries away. I watch her go. She's an amazing woman. My life is, well, blessed with amazing women.

Father Casey sits down in Diana's spot and the pew complains of the change. "Talking about Sarah?" One other good thing that's happened in the past few months is that he's gotten to know Sarah, and Sarah to know him.

"Yes, among other things. Diana's something, you know it?"

Father Casey nods. "I live in fear and trembling, Chuck, fear and trembling… So, you wanted to see me?" I texted him last night.

"Yeah, I...um...You see…"

He grins. "Do you have the ring on you?"

My jaw drops. "How does everyone know what I'm doing?"

"You're an open book — for a detective."

I shake my head but then I give Father Casey a serious look. "What do you think, Father? Is it too early?"

"You love her, she loves you: sounds like the perfect time to me."

"But you had serious doubts about her…" I'm not sure why I bring this up, but I do.

He nods. "I did. But something I never told you, Chuck. That day Morgan got hit, Wylie Stroud came to see me. He talked to me in confidence, but I guess I can tell you now; given your plan, he won't care. He came to me and told me what he was up to, told me all about Sarah, her childhood and adulthood, what he and she had done, and her attempts to quit. He told me she was a wonder — and that he thought she was perfect for you and you for her. He asked me to help him along.

"I had mixed reactions to that request, to say the least. Priests don't normally get involved in cons. But what I told you later was true. I watched her that night at the hospital, and what I saw, I believed. I saw that she had feelings for you. So, when I told you that, I wasn't telling you to help the con, per se, but I was telling you the truth. And Jack's, er, Wylie's right: you two are perfect for each other. — If you're here looking for my blessing, Chuck, you certainly have it. Personally and vocationally."

I'm leaning forward, listening. He reaches to me and puts his large hand on my shoulder, squeezes it. He says a few words under his breath, his eyes closed. I can't make them out but I know what he's doing.

I guess I've prayed — and I'm sure I've been prayed for.

The ring feels warm and comfortable in my pocket. I'm eager for tonight.

I say goodbye to Father Casey, leave St. Dunstan's and drive to the office. Sarah's Range Rover's in the parking lot. It looks happy and homey there, like it belongs.

I open the door. Sarah's coming out of her office, file in hand. Bolonia's on the phone.

Sarah smiles at me, her holiday smile. And I know that today will be a holiday.

The End

Big Swamp

A/N: Thanks to everyone who stuck with this story. I appreciate the readers and especially those who were kind enough to write a review or send a PM.

I may return to Deep South Investigators for another, future case.

My thanks to Beckster1213, WvonB, JohnnyRayChandlett, and Tilly4u for pre-reading and conversation.