The week passed. Lauren did her best to avoid her parents, and this wasn't hard. She used her graduation gift money to purchase a computer with Web TV, and spent most of her time tinkering with it in her room. Following her mother's lead, she emptied her closets and dresser drawers and rearranged everything. She went online to decorator websites and began thinking of how she might decorate an apartment of her own. Maybe a dorm wasn't realistic. She was an only child who liked her space. Did she really want to surround herself with strangers? She thought most college students rented apartments off-campus as soon as they could.

The secrecy continued. Her mother moped around the house, but was never still. She cleaned constantly, emptied drawers, and packed clothes for charity. Lauren was reminded of someone preparing to go on a long journey. Her mother always seemed to be checking--making sure she wasn't leaving anything behind.

Whenever the phone rang, her mother would screech "I'll get it!" sounding uncannily like Edith Bunker. Her parents were so vigilant about the phone, Lauren only got to pick it up once. And that time, the caller simply hung up. Her mother hovered by the phone, and when Lauren shrugged and hung up, she thought Kate would faint with relief.

Something was building in the house-a feeling of mounting tension. Lauren was certain that there would be some sort of development in the next few days. It couldn't come soon enough, she thought. Her parents were going nuts and threatening to take her with them.

On Saturday, June 16th, Lauren was awakened before her customary eight o'clock alarm. Her mother came into the room quietly, and sat on the corner of the bed, waiting for Lauren to open her eyes.

Lauren was a sound sleeper but not a deep one. Concern for her parents had made her especially aware of sounds and disturbances in the house, and she came awake easily.

"Morning," whispered Kate, looking very tired, but somehow at peace.

"Are you okay?"

Kate smiled sadly. "As much as I can be. I need you to do something this morning. Put on something pretty. Take your time. Come downstairs when you're ready."

Lauren couldn't read the look on her mother's face. Mischievous, as if concealing a happy, soon-to-be-revealed secret, but underneath, the same mournful tension.
After the door closed, she lay on her pillow for another minute, thinking. Well, whatever it was, it would break up the usual weekend monotony. She'd play along.

Dress nice. Well, the first order of business was making sure she had a decent pair of stockings. Typically, she went through them like water, with a pair lasting long enough to be worn twice if she was lucky. She was delighted to find a sheer gray pair in a bottom dresser drawer, still in the package. Good. That meant she'd be able to wear the dress she already had in mind.

It was a playful-looking thing, uncharacteristic of her usual style, and it had run her quite a bit of money. Mid-thigh, undyed linen, with leather latticework across the bodice and up the short sleeves. She'd worn it once, to a school function, and it had made her feel confident and upbeat. The cut was perfect, accentuating the right spots, minimizing the wrong ones.

With just enough time for a quick shower, she hurried and got ready, deciding to forego any makeup other than some lip color. She was more concerned about her hair, and very grateful when it cooperated with the hairdryer and the brush. She put on some sandals and a pair of pearl earrings, and went downstairs.

About halfway down, she caught sight of her father, craning his neck to see her coming. He turned and nodded to someone behind him, then went to meet her at the bottom of the stairs. He had the same tense look as her mother, but otherwise seemed his usual self. He wore his normal weekend attire--khaki trousers and a golf shirt.

He took her by the shoulders and drew her tightly to him. "I love you. Just want you to know that," he whispered, with a sad sort of smile. This was a surprise; she didn't know precisely what to say, and he let her go, with a light pat on her back, before she could formulate a response. When he stepped to the side, she received her third surprise of the morning. John Rainbird stood in the doorway to the dining room and oh, didn't he look
good! He wore a white shirt, open at the neck, a nice compliment to the bronze of his skin. New-looking jeans, a new pair of leather boots...he looked as she'd envisioned him on their many imaginary dates.

She walked toward him unhesitatingly, and he bent his head with a smile of greeting. He was obviously very happy to see her, too, and this delighted her.

"Well, hello John," she said, conscious of how she was dressed, automatically inserting a note of seduction into her voice.

"Hi, Lauren," he responded, thrilling her again with that deep, musing voice. His eye did a quick scan of her figure. "You look...very nice," he said quietly. His admiration was utterly genuine, and she responded to it with a wide smile.

Rainbird reached a hand toward her shoulder. "Let's go in the dining room," he said, guiding her in front of him. Her parents stood together and there was a third man waiting for them. She'd seen him before, now where was it? It came to her: He was the Shop chaplain. He'd officiated at a memorial service for Fred Sherman, an agent killed in a Beirut truck bombing. Why was he here? Her mind rapidly paged through possibilities, and she concluded that her parents had decided to renew their marriage vows. Sure. They'd been going for counseling over the last few months, she knew. Well, nice. Okay.

But what on earth was John Rainbird doing here? That part made no sense whatsoever. Her father loathed him.

She thought some more. He might be serving as the chaplain's bodyguard, or maybe his driver. Sure. These days no one was safe from terrorists or political extremists. The chaplain must have received a threat of some sort, and this was how the Shop protected him. She smiled inwardly. Her father must be thrilled to have John in the house.

"All right," said the chaplain, taking a quick, all-inclusive glance around the room. "Shall we begin?" He, like her parents, looked ill at ease, as though preparing to do a job that was not entirely to his liking.

She and Rainbird were halfway across the room from where the chaplain stood.
Rainbird offered her his arm and she took it for no other reason than she was charmed by the gesture and more than happy for an excuse to touch him. She enjoyed the feel of his big, muscular arm, and felt the heat of it through his shirt. Mmm. Rainbird escorted her to within a few feet of the chaplain, who was facing them directly. Her parents remained off to the side.

Isn't this funny? she thought. Almost like he and I were getting married. I wish! She had no idea what was going on here, but it certainly was interesting.

The chaplain, holding a Bible bound in dignified black leather, cleared his throat. "Friends, we are gathered here today to join John and Lauren in holy matrimony," he said.

Lauren was not especially troubled by this. She instantly assumed she was dreaming. So far this morning, nothing had seemed precisely real. I'll play along, she thought once again. Not a bad dream. But maybe it's time to turn over in bed.

She moved as if to disengage from Rainbird, and he placed a large, warm hand over hers, indicating that she should stay put.

She sighed. Okay. Sure. Whatever...

The minister gave a rather rote recitation of the meaning of marriage, and Lauren paid scant attention. She was thinking about John, and how good his arm felt under her hand. Time seemed to have stood still, and she felt rooted to the dining room floor, as the chaplain moved on to a new phase of the service. Then there was silence, pierced by her mother's sharp voice.

"Lauren! The man just asked you a question!"

She froze, still convinced that this was all a dream, but believing her mother was attempting to wake her up. She blinked, expecting to "surface" at any time now, back upstairs in her bed. But nothing changed. She, her parents, the chaplain, and John were still standing together in the dining room, and she was still wearing the same dress. The dream state began to fray at the edges.

She forced herself to listen to the chaplain, asking "Do you, Melanie Lauren Conroy, take John Rainbird to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, forsaking all others, till death do you part?"

Well, she thought, so far as I know, there's only one proper answer to this question. "I do," she replied, marveling at how even and strong her voice sounded.

"Do you, John Rainbird, take Lauren....."

Lauren lost track of things again, glancing at her parents, who looked grim and sick. She felt John's body shift; he was retrieving something from his shirt pocket. She recognized two wedding bands and followed the proceedings well enough to extend her left hand at the appropriate time and watch John place the gold ring on her finger. Then, for the first time, he let her disengage her hand from his arm so that she could convey the ring that he'd given her to hold. She slipped the ring around his finger and it went on easily. She wanted to hold his arm again, but he was facing her directly now, and the minister was concluding the service.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife, this covenant to be sealed with a kiss."

John bent toward her; she stood on tiptoe slightly to reach him. It started as a diffident sort of kiss, but then he reached an arm tentatively around her waist, and she felt herself respond. Despite the confusion and the sense of unreality, it surely did feel good to taste this man's mouth and breathe in the intimate scent of him; to feel his broad shoulder and a few strands of his long hair under her fingers. If I'm really married to him, she reflected dimly, that means we're going to... The thought made her look directly into his eye. He was looking back at her the same way, and she saw a conspiratorial smile beginning there. The look said Yes, we are. Soon.

They released each other, reluctantly now. Lauren saw her parents still standing there, frozen, and wasn't sure what to do next.

Once again, Rainbird made the first move. He turned to the chaplain. "Let's sign those papers," he said. He touched Lauren's arm and led her a short distance away, to seat her at the dining room table.

She saw that the chaplain seemed to be attending to her parents. He was talking to her mother in such a manner that suggested he was comforting her. Kate wasn't crying, but she looked far from happy. After a few more moments of whispered conversation, her father gently led her mother into another room.

The chaplain sat with them at the table; they each signed the form that would render a marriage certificate within a few weeks. Lauren noted an Arizona address and felt a small thrill. Slowly, finally, the peculiar events of the past month were starting to make some sense.

The doorbell rang. Rainbird excused himself and went to answer it. Four Shop agents entered, and Rainbird indicated the room where Kate and Nathan had gone. The agents went there, and shut the door.

In the dining room, things were calm and still. Rainbird gave the papers back to the chaplain. Lauren observed him handing him some bills as well. The chaplain said thank you and good luck, and then he left.

Rainbird gave his full attention to Lauren. "We can go now," he said in his quiet voice.

"I'd better say goodbye to my parents," she said.

"You can't. But they'll be fine."

"Well, I'd better pack some things."

"You don't need to."

"Are you sure?"

"Completely sure."

She believed him. Maybe she was under his spell...all she wanted to do was get into his SUV and drive off with him. None of this seemed real. It was nice, but hardly real.

They walked across the lawn together, but unlike the last time, there was a hint of urgency in his movements. He held the door and assisted her in. He was behind the wheel in a moment, and they were out of the driveway immediately-he'd parked the SUV facing the street.