The Wedding Chapel ….
Lt. Welsh picked Fraser up at the consulate at ten o'clock as scheduled. The older officer wore a dark suit with a Canadian red tie. Even Diefenbaker wore a red collar for the occasion.
"Tell me again why you didn't stay at your new apartment with your fiancée?" Welsh asked, trying to grasp the Mountie logic.
"Wedding tradition holds that it is bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the ceremony." Ben answered, patting his pockets to make certain that he hadn't forgotten anything. "Her mother is staying with us until after the honeymoon, the apartment is rather crowded with Clara's luggage and the packing boxes." It was more like a general's war room than an apartment with Meg stressing over every detail. She was worse than usual.
After running down a mental check list, Ben lead the way out to Welsh's retired squad car, Dief on their heels. There would be wedding cake and he knew Fraser would be distracted. It was the old wolf's dream come true.
"What did she say when you told her that Dewey had hired dancing girls for the party last night?" Welsh would have loved to be a fly on that wall.
"I haven't told Margaret about last night's predicament, I assume Ray took care of things." Fraser answered confidently. All Welsh could do was shake his head, marveling at the Mountie's naiveté.
"Oh, Constable, you're a braver soul than I am, you should have told her." Welsh maneuvered through traffic toward the chapel.
"I suppose I should have, on second thought."
TYKTYKTYK
"Meg, dear, it's nine-thirty in the morning, what are you doing getting dressed, it's two hours before your ceremony?" Clara asked, sipping her coffee slowly. Meg had dragged her out of bed two hours earlier and hustled her to the chapel. The pregnant bride had been insufferable all week over it.
"I have to make certain that everything is just right for the wedding, I only plan on having one, I want to do it right, I want it to be something I can look back and remember with pride. It has to be beautiful, perfect." Meg pulled out the three ring binder she'd organized the wedding plans into. It was color coded, alphabetized, and tabbed, everything according to her plan.
"Did you plan on having any fun today?" Clara asked, checking her make-up in the reflection off of a gold wall sconce.
"There's time for fun after the minister says 'I now pronounce you man and wife'." Meg waved her off, checking her garment list inside the notebook.
"Let me know if you need anything, otherwise you'll find me napping in one of the pews." Clara wandered off to find a quiet spot to doze.
Eleven O'clock …..
Guests began showing up at the historic chapel in downtown Chicago an hour before the ceremony. It wasn't a large place, that was fine, there weren't many guests. Stained glass windows illuminated the space with warm, mellow morning light. Antique white walls accented the myriad of colors as guest sat on oak pews covered in sky blue upholstery. Behind the pulpit stood the American Flag to the left and the Christian Flag to the right. Turnbull had draped a small, Canadian flag over the pulpit for the occasion. Meg peeked out at the gathering crowd from the room off to the side, near the entrance. The minister stood behind the pulpit, Fraser to the right and Meg's maid-of-honor, Patricia, to the left. Almost everyone was in place, all except Ray and Turnbull.
"Where's the best man, and where's Constable Turnbull?" Meg fussed, pulling on the white, lace gloves she wore with her simple gown.
"He'll be here, sweetheart, don't fuss, it isn't good for the baby." Clara patted her daughter's shoulder. Meg had always been tightly wound, especially when it concerned something she'd wanted for so long.
"Ben won't start the ceremony without his friend Ray and I need Turnbull to go ahead of the wedding party to make sure the reception room is ready." The lady Mountie adjusted her lace veil, wishing she hadn't insisted on wearing it.
"You've come this far, Nut Meg, everything will turn out just fine." Clara hugged her daughter, pulling her tight against her mauve and cream ensemble.
"Are you certain, Mom?" Meg asked, suddenly feeling unsure of everything.
"Most definitely, just relax." Clara reassured her, adjusting the pearls Meg wore, her grandmother's pearls.
"I hate to interrupt, but we have a problem." Francesca Vecchio said, sticking her head through the crack in the door.
"What do you mean, a problem?" Meg's dark eyes went wide and she paled a bit.
"Ray's here and he's got Turnbull, but Turnbull's handcuffed to a stripper." Frannie laid it out plainly. Tact was never one of her talents.
"A stripper?" Meg blinked, " Did you say stripper? Turnbull is handcuffed to a stripper?" She could have cried except that it had taken her an hour to put her make-up on.
"Yeah, Detective Dewey hired them to come to the bachelor party last night." Frannie explained, adjusting her fire engine red dress and pillbox hat.
"Don't they have the key, bolt cutters, anything?" Meg laid her fists on her hips, color returning to her face.
"I guess not." Frannie started edging back toward the door.
"I'll go see what's going on, wait just a minute." Clara pushed Frannie toward Meg and went out to see the situation for herself.
"While you're out there have Fraser come here." Meg demanded, her fists balling at her sides. He'd better have a good explanation for why he hadn't warned her about Turnbull she thought to herself.
"Inspector, I don't think that's a good idea." Frannie began, turning away from examining the white rose at her lapel. Meg turned on her, murder in her eyes.
"I think I'll go see what's taking them so long." The Civilian Aide volunteered.
A few minutes later the bride-to-be heard a tapping on the door.
"Margaret, it's me, Clara said you wished to speak to me." Ben opened the door only wide enough to speak through.
"Get in here." Meg demanded, her nerves frazzled.
"I'm afraid I can't do that, Margaret." Ben answered reluctantly.
"And why not?" She volleyed back, her foot tapping as she waited on him to open the door.
"It's against tradition for the groom to see the bride before the ceremony." Ben listened to the silence on the other side of the door. He didn't know if silence were a good thing or a bad thing. He knew the answer as soon as the door flew open, nearly sucking him inside the small antechamber.
"That's superstitious poppycock, Constable Fraser." Meg took him by the hand an yanked him inside the room.
"Oh dear." Ben muttered, at both being called by rank and by seeing Meg in her wedding dress.
"Why didn't you tell me Constable Turnbull was handcuffed to a stripper?" Meg crossed her arms over the lace covered satin of her dress' bodice.
"Oh dear," Ben repeated, trying to frame his answer carefully. "I didn't know he still was still attached to the young lady. I assumed Ray had taken care of the problem." Ben answered honestly. He pulled at the collar of his red serge tunic then smoothed his left brow with his thumbnail.
"Never assume with Constable Turnbull, the man can barely function in the city." Meg shook her head, her dark eyes narrowed.
"There, disaster averted." Clara walked back into the antechamber with a satisfied smile.
"How did you get them apart, Mother?" Meg asked, relaxing a bit.
"I picked the lock, dear, just like your father taught me." The charming woman answered smugly. Fraser's brow shot up as his dark blue eyes widened.
"Meg hasn't told you anything about her father has she?" Clara turned to the Mountie.
"Mother, now is not the time to tell family stories." Meg's tone held a dire warning.
"You may as well tell him now, Meg, he'll just find out eventually anyway." Ms. Thatcher shrugged, oblivious to her daughter's pleading stare.
"Ben, my father was a circus performer known as 'The Incredible Lock Smith'." Meg admitted, wincing at the sound of her father's stage name.
"Harry was a rambunctious youth, picking locks to get into people's cars, lockers, that sort of thing. He was caught when he was fifteen stealing a stereo and did a summer in a juvenile offenders boot camp. He never stole another thing after that summer. Afterward he joined the circus, escaping out of locked trunks while covered in chains, that sort of thing. Harry was a good father and a good provider but the lifestyle never suited my Nut Meg." Clara explained.
"That must have provided your family a rare opportunity travel the country, to meet new and interesting people." Fraser looked from one Thatcher woman to the other.
"Hey, you all gonna get this show on the, er, on the road or what?" Ray shouted through the door, interrupting the three way stare.
"Shall we?" Fraser asked, rather glad for the change in subject. Meg just nodded. She didn't know why it was so embarrassing to admit her family's unusual history, Ben had been accepting and encouraging of everything so far.
TYKTYKTYK
The organist began playing the wedding march as soon as Fraser took his place at the altar. Beside him stood Ray, Turnbull and Buck Frobisher. When he looked down the line of men standing beside him he saw a familiar figure bringing up the rear, his father. The old Mountie waved and smiled. All Ben could do was nod.
When her cue came during the music Meg took her mother's arm and began the slow, sedate march down the aisle toward Ben. He stood tall and handsome in his dress reds, his blue eyes fixed on her shining face. They had come so far from the first time they'd met.
"Congratulations, sweetheart, you're going to be so happy together." Clara Thatcher let tears well in her dark eyes as she stepped in time with the music.
"Thanks, Mom, I hope so." Meg turned to her mother for a moment before they arrived at the altar.
"You look beautiful." Ben breathed as he took her hands in his. She mouthed a thank you before turning to the minister.
The ceremony went off without a hitch. Sparks sat in the back until someone could call her a cab later. Turnbull stood straight and true beside Fraser the whole time, holding Diefenbaker on a leash, just in case someone was afraid of dogs. Clara sat dutifully on the front row, tears streaming down her face as her little girl got married. Ray stood solemnly beside his best friend. Their relationship had already changed, not for the worse or the better, just different. Buck Frobisher stood proudly on the other side of Turnbull. He knew his oldest friend was standing beside him, watching as a father should. He only wished Caroline Fraser could be there to see her son and his new family.
"I wish she could be here too, old friend. Meg reminds me of my Caroline in a lot of ways. I hope Benton is as happy as she and I were." Robert Fraser leaned over to speak quietly to his long time friend.
"They will, Bob, I'll see to it." Buck agreed in a whisper.
"I now pronounce you man and wife." Minister Browner proclaimed. "You may now kiss the bride." It didn't have to be said twice. The newlyweds walked back down the aisle as Mr. and Mrs. Fraser. At the door their friends and family showered them with flower petals and bubbles, camera flash bulbs nearly blinding the pair. A carriage waited to take them to the reception hall.
"It's finally happened." Meg said as she sat back against the red leather seat of the white carriage. The driver wore a red and blue liveryman's uniform.
"What's happened?" Ben leaned in, hoping she felt alright.
"I've got everything I've ever dreamed of, I'm married to the man I love and I'm having a baby. This is the perfect day." She laid her hand on her barely puffy stomach.
"Your happiness is all I've ever wanted, Margaret." Ben slipped his arm around her and pulled her comfortably to his side, just where he always wanted her. He wanted to keep her close to his heart and protect her.
"I love you, Ben." Meg leaned into his embrace.
"I love you too, Meg." He felt perfectly content to keep riding along that way forever.
TYKTYKTYK