Designed Intent

Chapter 62

Wednesday Morning

Eames's cell phone rang, "Eames. . . . Gleason! Hi!" Bobby looked up and smiled and Eames stared at her partner. "No, nothing; why? . . . Well, sure. I would be honored. Thanks. . . . Ok. . . . Uh, do you want me to wear anything special? . . . Ha! Certainly. . . . Ok, I'll give you a call beforehand. . . . Sure. Bye." Eames hung up and smiled at Bobby. "Did you know about this?"

Bobby nodded, still grinning.

"So, have you invited anybody? The captain?"

"Uh, no. We, we want it to be very small. Not a big deal."

"I'm going to be the only one there?" she asked with glee.

"Yeah, well, remember, it's not a big deal."

"Are you kidding?! This is huge and I'm going to be there! Can I bring Edward?"

"Oh, Eames, I, I –," Bobby didn't want to say no to his partner, but he wanted his marriage to Gleason to be as private as possible.

"Bobby, it's ok. I understand. I shouldn't have even asked. I'm sorry," she said softly.

Bobby looked back at his partner and Eames saw him struggle. "Thanks for understanding."

Bobby and Eames spent the rest of the day filing reports on the five murders and the theft; it looked like the paperwork would take two days to complete. Deakins was giddy with the cases closing as this sent the solve rate vertical. Carver and his colleagues were busy as well, arranging Krezemsky's sentencing.

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Gleason hung up and smiled. She would have a real witness! She laid out her new top, bra and panties on the bed. Her suit was already clean and pressed. Everything was ready, just today and three more days until the wedding. Gleason went for a walk to keep from going crazy with excitement.

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Wednesday Afternoon

Bobby spoke briefly with the captain then told Eames he was taking a few hours. Bobby met Gleason for a late lunch and they spent the afternoon shopping for a gift for his best man and her maid of honor. Neither Bobby nor Gleason knew what to get. They came close to buying restaurant gift cards when they wandered past a clock shop.

"What do you think?" he asked her.

"Well, it is a timeless gift," she smiled at him.

Gleason chose a small wooden desk clock for Eames and Bobby chose a neon wall clock in the shape of a 1957 Corvette. "This will look great in his office at the garage," he said.

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Late Wednesday Afternoon

The ride to Carmel Ridge seemed long for both of them. Bobby talked about all the paperwork the case involved. Gleason listened and said little. She was eager to see Bobby's mother, to see how she was doing, of course, but to see if Christian was about. Gleason wanted to see – in as much as anyone could – how the little boy liked the books.

Mrs. Goren was dozing in her chair when they arrived. "Mom? Mom, we're here." Bobby had called his mother to tell her they were coming; she was delighted for a mid-week visit. "Mom?"

Bobby pulled up the two chairs and waited for Gleason to sit. He sat across from his mother and took her hand. It was as light as a baby bird. "Mom?" He ran his thumb over the back of his mother's frail hand and Gleason recognized the tender move.

"Mrs. Goren, Bobby is here to see you. Wake up Mrs. Goren."

Frances roused and came right around, "Bobby! Oh, you're here already? I hope you didn't drive fast. Gleason, you're here too! I am so glad you two are here."

Bobby exhaled his relief, she seemed better, though a little hard to rouse there for a moment. "We brought those books you wanted."

"What books?"

"The books you said Chr- Christian wanted." It was hard for Bobby to say the name, as though referring to a real child. "Here, what do you think of these?" He removed the books from the bag and set the stack on his mother's lap.

Frances looked at each one and lingered on the thick book of nursery rhymes. She ran her hand over the embossed cover. It was a lovely edition, bound in blue leather with gilt edges and glossy, full-page illustrations. "Oh, Bobby, this is it. This is the one from when you and Frank were little. Remember? Where did you find it?"

Actually, it wasn't the same one from his childhood, but Bobby let his mother believe it. "Gleason and I found these in a bookstore near our apartment. Do you like them?"

"Do you think Christian will like them," Gleason asked.

"Oh, yes, yes." Frances looked up and then turned in her seat and looked toward the drapes. "Christian, come see Gramma. Christian?"

Gleason followed the other woman's eyes and saw nothing. "Is he there, Mrs. Goren?"

Frances hesitated and finally said, "No, he's gone. I haven't seen him in a day or so. Must be off playing I guess. He will come running, though, when he knows we have these. Thank you, Bobby. These are just right." For the first time in a long time, Bobby felt as though he had pleased his mother. His heart set at peace.

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Thursday Evening

Bobby went to Tim's gallery on Thursday after work and picked up the rings. Gleason's ring was as he wished, like none other. Tim had engraved the inside of the two bands as well as the top and bottom edge of Gleason's special ring, just as Bobby directed. He had Bobby try on his band, "That looks good, man."

Bobby stared at the back of his left hand, looked up at his friend and said with a huge smile, "Yeah, it does, doesn't it?"

Tim tied the three rings together with a length of silver chain. "This is an old, old Celtic tradition," he explained as he tied the special knot. "It says that if the rings are secured with a silver chain and tied with this knot, not to be undone until the moment of wedding, then the couple will live long and love forever." Tim slipped the collection into a small black pouch and handed it to his friend. "Just pull one of the ends and the knot will undo. Then, keep the chain in the pouch and put it somewhere safe."

Bobby slipped the pouch into his inside coat pocket and shook his friend's hand. "Thanks for everything, Tim."

"My pleasure, Bobby."

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Friday Afternoon

"Hi, Sweet Pea. How's my little boy? See these, your Daddy and Mommy brought these for you." The nurse stood in the doorway and watched Mrs. Goren talk to the air, looking through a stack of children's books.

The nurse needed to get blood and urine samples to compare with those taken earlier in the week. She decided to come back later and let the sweet old woman speak with the child only she could see.

"See this one? Your daddy had this when he was a little boy. Look at these beautiful pictures."

The little boy leaned on his Gramma's chair and looked at the illustrations. He looked from the book to his Gramma and back to the book. His daddy had this book? Oh, how he wanted to touch it. He missed his daddy and mommy. He decided to see them tonight while they slept.

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Friday Evening

"Let's go out for dinner," Bobby said into her neck.

"Bobby, I'm not even hungry," she smiled and looked up at him.

"Are you nervous?"

"Yes, a little; are you?"

He stared into her eyes and could not believe how lucky he was to have found her, kept her and now to be marrying her. He thanked God for all things good.

"I'm not nervous. Just, just . . . I'm excited."

"I love you, Bobby, forever and ever."

"I love you." He pulled her tight and they rocked.

Bobby's phone ringing broke their embrace. He checked the number and saw that it was Lewis. "Lewis, how are you?" Gleason walked from the kitchen into the bedroom, leaving him to talk with his best man.

"Want to go out for your stag party?" Lewis asked.

Bobby laughed and said, "Oh, I don't think so, Lewis. I want to spend this evening with Gleason. Thanks, though."

"Well, have you guys had dinner?"

"No."

"So, let's go get dinner – the three of us. I'll call Mom and see if she wants to go, too."

"Ok, let me ask Gleason. I'll call you back."

"Honey, Lewis wants to know if we want to go to dinner with him and his mom. A dinner instead of a stag party," Bobby called as he came down the hall to the bedroom.

Gleason was ironing his new shirt. He stopped and watched her. She's going to be my wife, he thought. My wife. Forever.

"That's fine. What time?" she answered, not looking up, intent on her task.

Bobby stepped to her and hugged her from behind. "Let's stay in. I want to be with just you tonight. We can go to dinner tomorrow with Lewis and his mom like we planned. Ok?"

Gleason finished and held up the shirt, "Hand me that hanger, please."

Bobby let go of her, took the hanger from the bed, and handed it to her. "So, what do you say? Stay in and frolic in the sack or go out with Lewis and his mom?"

Gleason stepped past him, hung up the shirt in the closet, and stepped past him again. She turned off the iron, bent to unplug it and left with it, walking to the kitchen.

Bobby folded up the ironing board and stashed it in the back of the closet. "Gleason? Honey, do you want to go out or stay in?" He returned to the kitchen and found her sitting at the table, hands folded in front of her lips. "Sweetheart, what's wrong?" He sat across from her. "Glea-?"

She didn't respond.

He took her wrist and said softly, his fear rising, "Gleason, talk to me."

Finally, she looked at him. Gleason slid her wrist from his grip and covered her face with her hands. He heard her cry.

For the first time in weeks, Bobby couldn't draw a deep breath. His fingers went to his lips. He felt cold fear. "Baby, Honey, tell me what's wrong." She cried behind her hands. "Gleason?"

Bobby stood up, went to the phone, and dialed. "Lewis, Bobby. Hey listen, we're going to stay in tonight. . . . Yeah, something like that. . . . We'll, uh, we'll see you there. . . . Yeah, between four and four-fifteen. . . . Say hi to your mom. . . . Ok, thanks. Bye."

He hung up and went back to the kitchen. Gleason sat, fiddling with a tea towel. She wiped her nose with it and looked at him as he sat across from her, his face pained.

"What's wrong?" he asked so softly. "Are you afraid?"

Gleason struggled with what to say. "Bobby-," the tea towel was becoming a cluster of knots. He took her hands and bent to look into her face. He waited.

"Bobby, what, what if I'm not a good wife? What if I can't do this? I don't know how to be a wife."

He exhaled with relief – nerves, it was nerves. "Oh, God, Gleason. Honey, you have been a wife to me from the beginning. This is just a formality. A piece of paper." But Bobby knew it was so, so much more than that.

She looked at him and asked, "Are you sure?"

He looked at her and said, "Yes, I am sure."

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Bobby and Gleason went to bed early that night. They made slow, tender love, exploring each other as though they didn't know each other's body. Bobby released gently, pumping his semen into her with quiet grunts as she moaned her orgasm under him. They settled, gasps slowing to deep breaths.

"Are you all right?" he asked, pulling from her body. Gleason hissed, moaned, and immediately wrapped herself around him. "Honey?"

"Oh, God, Bobby, I love you so much. So much."

He held her, then moved back and wiped his hand over the side of her face, pushing away her hair. He searched her face, watching her search his. He kissed her forehead and she turned over. They snuggled in their way and he listened as she fell asleep. Only then did he.

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He stood and watched his wife walk with their son, holding hands, picking flowers. "Gleason!" he called. The woman and boy stopped and turned.

"Daddy!" the child let go of his mother's hand and came running. Bobby smiled and walked toward the boy. "Chris!" Bobby stooped and caught the child as he launched himself into his father's arms.

Gleason walked toward the pair, smiling. "How are my guys?" she asked.

Bobby took her by the waist and set down their son. "Swing me?" Chris asked, stepping between his parents.

Bobby and Gleason each took a hand and swung their little boy between them.

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She watched her husband hold their son's hand as the child walked along the top of the stone wall. "Bobby!" she called. The man and the boy stopped and turned.

"Mommy!" the boy's father lifted him down and he came running. Gleason smiled and walked toward him. "Chris!" Gleason stooped and swung the child around as he flung himself into her arms.

Bobby walked toward his wife and son, "How are my two favorite people?" he asked.

Gleason took Bobby's hand and he took their son's. "Swing me?" Chris asked, stepping between his parents.

Gleason and Bobby each took a hand and swung their little boy between them.

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Bobby and Gleason both sighed and shifted. They slept their last night as single individuals – tomorrow they will be one.