I Do
A sequel to "Let's Set the World on Fire" and "The Twelfth of Never"
February 20. It was fast approaching. When Sharon chose that date, she had meant it. When she had said she was certain, not just about marrying Andy Flynn, but marrying him soon, she meant that too. She wasn't blind. She had certainly taken her sweet time in their relationship. Every milestone, big or small, had occurred on her timetable. He hadn't minded. Well, he hadn't minded too much.
He wasn't an infinitely patient man, but he'd surely shown himself to be with her. It was necessary, he'd found, given the hurts of the past. He'd also come to discover that he'd enjoyed the journey, as slow as it was, far more than he might have expected. It gave them a chance to evolve together on a deeper, more spiritual level. That might have sounded pretty silly years ago, but it was exactly what an older, wiser Andy Flynn wanted at this stage of his life. He desired something meaningful and lasting. As it so happened, his bride to be was on the same page.
As predicted, the New Year hit hard and fast. It was precisely why Sharon had wanted to enjoy their Christmas with the kids, and enjoy it they had. They played boardgames, T ball on the lawn. Puzzles were assembled, moves watched with the family piled together in the family room. They ate their fill of snacks and leftovers and holiday treats. When New Year's Ever rolled around, their five combined children, plus Nicole's husband, Dean, celebrated together. It was their way, they announced, of bringing in a new year as siblings. Sharon and Andy celebrated by hosting the grandsons for a sleepover. Neither boy made it to midnight, as predicted, but the newly engaged couple rang in the new year in their favorite way, dancing under the fairy lights of the back lawn.
All too soon their holiday break was over. The real world beckoned. That didn't mean there wasn't a wedding to plan. That gave them all something to look forward to when the dirtbags of LA threatened with their own special brand of darkness. There was still light to be found.
Sharon had shared her ideas with her girls and they, in turn, had passed them on to the boys. They were given Sharon's wish list of colors, fabrics, and flowers, then turned lose. Emily knew her mother's style well, and her mother did indeed have impeccable style.
So, much had been taken over to the kids, which would prove to be a huge help in the coming weeks. While the summer months tended to be higher with regards to the most violent of crimes against persons, the holidays did their own share of damage.
They caught a case their second day back, a tragic murder-suicide which solved itself. It landed in their laps due to celebrity status of those involved. As it turned out, a drug-fueled New Year's celebration, blown out of control, jealously, money, guns. Tragic, yes. Preventable, yes.
A knock on her office door pulled her out of those heavy thoughts, and she smiled. She knew that knock. "Come in," she called softly from her desk, waiting to greet him with the smile meant only for him.
The door opened and he peered inside. "Time for a lunch break?" he asked with his signature grin, the one that made her stomach turn flips.
"I could use the break, yes." She gestured toward her paperwork. "So depressing. What did you bring?" she asked, eyebrows rising.
He closed the door behind him and crossed the office to the small table on the far side. Opening the parcel, he removed various containers, spreading them out. When she joined him, he pulled out her chair for her before taking the seat beside her.
Sharon examined the offerings, her stomach rumbling in appreciation. There was a Caprese salad, think slices of tomato layered between generous portions of creamy Mozzarella and fresh, aromatic basil, topped with Balsamic vinegar. Her mouth watered. Next, he'd brought her tomato basil soup and hot, crusty garlic bread.
"I do love Italian," she husked, covering his hand.
"As I proud Italian, may I say how happy I am to hear that."
"This looks divine, Andy. Thank you. What made you think of Italian?"
He handed her a package of plastic wear and a napkin.
"Well, I've been thinking about what we might serve at the wedding. A dinner or just reception food. I thought I try out different menus. See what you have in mind."
"Well, we could do either. It won't be a big expense either way. We're keeping the guest list moderate. Family and team, a few others. Would do you think?"
"I'm not worried about numbers really, people or dollars. I say go all out. My bigger concern is time. You know how this job is. I think with a little planning, shopping ahead, meal prep, and some help, we could put on a nice sit-down dinner following the ceremony. Nothing over the top, but nice. Both Julio and Buzz are good in a kitchen. If we come up with a menu that allows for prepping ahead, I say we go for it. What do you think?"
She put down her spoon and reached for his hand. "I think I love the idea. Let's look at menus if we get out of here at a reasonable time tonight. See what we can come up with."
"Yeah?" He was delighted. He wasn't sure she'd go for it, and wouldn't push her. She didn't need more work on her big day. "I'm not kidding. The guys are good on a grill. Their mommas taught those boys how to cook."
She laughed as she released his hand and resumed her lunch. The day wasn't overly hectic since winding down their case, but that could change at any moment.
"Oh, one other thing. I know I've never asked this before, but uh, if you've no other plans on Thursday night, I was hoping you might feel comfortable," he paused and took a deep breath, smiling when she once again took his hand. "Would you go to my meeting with me?"
Sharon was caught. Of course she'd always hoped he'd feel comfortable asking. Was he okay?
"Or course," she replied. "Is everything okay, honey?"
He saw her concern and gave her hand a squeeze.
"Absolutely, sweetheart. It's nothing like that at all. I actually, um. I'm getting my twenty-five year chip," he said, with a smile that was both proud a modest.
"Andy," she said, voice shaking. She rose from her chair and knelt beside him. Taking both of his hands in hers, she pressed kiss after kiss to his fingers. Then, reaching for his tie, she drew him low and kissed him soundly. "I am so very proud for you. So proud. What an unbelievable accomplishment. I, I, I don't know what else to say. All your work and faithfulness has paid off. You are worth all the trust and confidence and faith and oh, now I'm rambling. I'm just so proud for you and I love you so much."
He stood and pulled her flush against him, her emotional response now contagious.
"Thank you for taking a chance," he said, on another alcoholic went unsaid, but not unheard.
She knew his fears and his doubts, but he couldn't be more different from Jack Raydor if he tried.
"The usual time Thursday?"
"Yeah. Roger will have a little rubbery cake afterwards. They're awful, but it's a nice gesture."
"Then I will make sure there is cheesecake and cider at home afterward. We'll have our own private celebration for two," she said, pressing a kiss to his lips.
"You must be happy. I'm getting all kinds of lucky here in your office."
She laughed out loud. "Well, I'm getting married. My handsome guy is celebrating something so very important," she said, suddenly serous again. "I love you, Andy, and I'm very proud of you, honey. It's a big, big deal and I, of all people, understand that. I think we should splurge with a pizza for dinner on the way home. Then, we'll plan our wedding menu. I feel like celebrating. You are worth a celebration, my love." She kissed him again. "Now, we should finish our lunch before someone ups and decides to kill someone else."
They made it home later than planned, but not ridiculously so. Breaking their own rules, they dined at the coffee table, surrounded by their pizza box, laptop, and notepad.
His phone rang, as he was pointing out a seafood option on the screen. Answering it, he greeted his son.
"Hey Jeff, what's up?"
"Two words, Dad. Bachelor Party."
"One word, son. No. Next subject."
"Come on, Dad. It doesn't have to be anything stupid or wild. Just a get together with the guys. Just family, if you want. Heck, we can go camping or bowling or golfing. No strippers, I promise."
"You're damn right, no strippers."
That got Sharon's attention. Her head jerked up and away from the laptop.
Andy covered the phone. "He wants to throw a bachelor party," he whispered, rolling his eyes.
She chuckled and took another bite of her pizza as she pointed to a fish recipe that looked good.
Andy eyed the screen and agreed. "Mark that down," he said.
"Come on, Dad. You name the rules, I'll make it happen. We're finally all together. It'd be nice to celebrate this together."
He sounded so sincere, his boy, and made a good argument. It was awfully nice to be on the same page, finally. He stared at the fish on the screen, stretched out across a grill, layered with lemon and artichoke.
"Fishing," he said. "Let's go fishing. Just us. Me and my sons, maybe, maybe Provenza. No booze, no strippers. Just fishing. We'll cook what we catch for the wedding dinner," he said to his bride. "So it needs to be close enough to the big day. We can clean it and freeze it, but keep it close so it tastes fresh. Got that?"
"Yes, sir! I'll take care of everything. I'll shoot you a possible date and you'll let me know it you can swing it with work. Awesome, Dad!"
"Bye, son. Thanks, Jeff."
Sharon dropped her pizza and picked up her napkin. Sitting back against the sofa, she looked at him.
"Fishing, huh?"
Andy stared at the phone in his lap.
"He got to me when he said we were finally on the same page as father and son and we should be celebrating my wedding as such. I got him to promise no booze and no women, or it's a no-go."
She grinned. He was happy.
"I do like the idea of a day spent with my sons, out on the water. Or camping or bowling, something simple. No wild parties. Who can do that anymore?" he asked, shaking his head.
She leaned into him and kissed his cheek. "Your sons," she sighed. "I really do love you."
Looping an arm about her neck, he held her in place. "I really do love you, too."
They turned their focus back to the computer. Having decided on fish, there were recipes to choose, and dishes to accompany them. They would want a few different options for those who weren't particularly fond of fish or, like Andy, didn't eat meat. He would, on occasion, enjoy fish, however, and was looking forward to eating his catch.
By the time they'd finished their pizza, they'd also completed a list of side dishes that would pair well with a variety of fish. Since they'd decided to marry in their beautiful backyard, they also chose to forgo the nice outdoor kitchen in favor of the large kitchen indoors. It would eliminate unnecessary noise and movement during the ceremony. They could always use it to serve from and to keep items warm. The ceremony would be brief. Father Stan had agreed to abbreviate his usual order of service to something equally meaningful, but more suited to a simple, outdoor, family affair. The pair had agreed to meet with him earlier in the day for confession, communion, and prayer, setting the tone for the ceremony to follow. It was an idea that calmed both bride and groom.
They rose to dispose of their garbage, and were greeted by their youngest, who's eyes widened at the sight of a pizza box. He looked horrified as they tossed in the garbage can.
"Fear not, yours is warming in the oven," said Andy.
"Oh man," sighed Rusty. "You're the best D…D- andy ever," he finished. "Thank you."
Sharon and Andy exchanged a look and decided not to make a big deal out of the beautiful slip.
"Night son," said Andy as he took her hand and tugged her down the hall.
Rusty leaned against the counter and dropped his head. He thought of what he'd nearly called the man, then smiled. It wasn't so bad. Andy certainly did the job better than anyone else had ever even bothered to try before. That was something to think about.
"How about a shower?" he asked her. "Or better yet, a bath."
"A bath sounds heavenly. Do we have time to call my folks first? I'd like to tell them together."
"It's still early enough. Let's call them before it gets too late. Then I'll run us a bath while you finish up with them. You know they'll want to gush over details."
That, they did. They were thrilled. Her parents very much approved of her choice of mate this time around. Her kids loved him. They'd talked with him many times over the phone and had met him once over the previous summer. Traveling was difficult, so they had gone to them.
They were pleased and proud when Sharon took the opportunity to praise Andy for his accomplishment of twenty-five years' sobriety. He was very moved at his in-laws genuine pride and appreciation for all of his commitment to his health. It was far more than the other one had ever attempted. No, this Andy their girl had chosen was a good one and they were delighted with the news. They couldn't promise to be there. It was quite a trip at their advanced age, but would manage to see it via FaceTime at least. Their grandson could see to that.
As promised, Andy left them with a goodnight, and saw to their bath. Once he stepped from the room, Sharon had a special request of her parents.
"We're getting married on your anniversary. We love the longevity and perseverance it represents," she explained, much to their delight. "I'd very much like to give him something that tangibly represents your time together. I don't know what that might be. Could you maybe think on it? Something meaningful, but something you're comfortable parting with, I suppose. If it's asking too much, I completely understand. Andy's a, well, he's an old soul. He appreciates old things, timeless pieces that mean something. The first gift he ever gave me was his grandmother's crucifix. He's sentimental. So, I though of you."
"We'll give it some thought, darling. We're so happy for you both. You seem very much at peace. You're fair to glowing, both of you."
"We're very happy, Mom. When I have more time, I'll have to tell you just how the proposal went. It was really something."
"We'll look for to that, sweetheart. But we'll let you go for now. It's getting close to our bedtime. We'll speak again soon."
"Goodnight, Daddy. 'Night, Mom. Love you both. Thank you."
She quickly composed and sent another message to a hastily put together group, then hit send. She would follow up the following day.
She hung up the phone and set it aside, smiling. They sounded good, happy and well. Standing up by the bedside, she undressed partially and grabbed what she needed for her bath. Picking up her phone, she padded toward the bath, wishing she had a job that allowed her to leave the phone behind.
Stepping into the doorway, her smile annoy grew. He'd drawn a bath alright, a fragrant tub filled with oils and soapy suds. The soft strains of Johnny Mathis played and her man stood waiting by the tub.
"Andy, you didn't have to wait."
"I didn't want you to slip," he said, shrugging this shoulders. "Plus, your right side is still compromised a bit. No reason to chance it."
She smirked and tilted her head.
"And I really like helping you undress," he admitted, stepping forward as she turned her back to him. He unclasped her bra and let it fall, then unzipped the back of her skirt. Bracing her hips he helped steady her as she stepped free of it, then slid her underwear down after it.
She turned to face him, completely bare and looked into his eyes, finding his looking into hers. She loved that about him. There was no denying he enjoyed looking at her, but he always saw her first. She reached for his waistband. He'd already unbuckled his belt and removed his dress shirt. Sharon undid his button and zipper, divesting him of his slacks. She then helped him remove his undershirt, then his boxers.
Together, they stood, no armor, no hiding. He pulled her flush against him and simply held her, nothing between them but a day to be forgotten and dreams still to be realized.
He helped her into the tub, then slipped in behind her. Pulling her to rest against his chest, they sunk deep into the water, warm and fragrant, and sighed.
"This is how we should close everyday," he suggested.
"Naked?" she chuckled.
"Well, preferably," he laughed. "No, I just meant, together. Someplace quiet, still."
He pressed a gentle kiss to the curve of her neck.
"But naked's always good."
Later, they carried the scent of gardenias with them as they made their way to bed. It wasn't terribly late yet and, after all, naked was always good.
Thursday evening rolled around and Sharon made sure they could get away on time. This was one AA meeting they wouldn't be late for. So, with a wave to her second in command, they left the office and made their way across town to the small church where his weekly meetings were held.
They entered the fellowship hall around back and found seats near the rear. Surrounded by strangers, Sharon simply smiled and nodded in response to the curious looks she received. Roger, Andy's longtime sponsor, offered her a warm handshake, very pleased she had joined them for Andy's special evening.
The meeting got underway. Several members rose and offered their qualifications before birthdays were celebrated. Roger then stood announced that they would be celebrating a most momentous anniversary, that of twenty-five years' sobriety for their own Andy. A round of applause, as well as stunned awe from newer members, rose from around the room. Friends jumped up to offer hugs and handshakes and Roger rewarded him with his twenty-five year medallion chip.
Andy enjoyed the weight of it in his hand, the Serenity prayer on one side of the silver, the inscription of To Thine Own Self Be True on the reverse. He handed the coin to Sharon and pressed a kiss to her cheek, then offered Roger his hand.
As predicted, an overly sweetened cake was shared, along with stale, reheated coffee leftover from the earlier meeting. It was awful, and awfully memorable. As Sharon had said, it was a very big deal.
They returned home to their quiet street, parked and entered through the side door, the promised of cider and cheesecake still on Andy's mind. They went straight to the kitchen.
"Shall we have our cheesecake on the patio? It's nice out tonight."
"Sounds good to me," came his reply. He grabbed the cheesecake and cider and she grabbed a pair of plates and glasses.
"You lead, I'll follow," she said.
Andy opened the back door to find the fairy lights on, along with the limestone blocks along the pool's edge.
"Surprise!" came a great shout.
Andy stopped short and looked around. There, gathered in his backyard, were his family, his team. Soon, music was keyed up and a festive atmosphere overtook the whole place. One by one, they extended their hands in heartfelt congratulations. Many offered more than a simple handshake. There were hugs, and there were even tears.
"This is such a huge deal, Dad," said his daughter. "I'm so proud of you."
"It is pretty amazing," said his son.
"Way to go, Dandy," offered Rusty, not even stammering this time. He then held up his laptop, revealing Ricky and Emily, patiently waiting via Skype, with congratulations of their own. Each of them knew exactly what it was to have a father never try to achieve what this man had just accomplished.
Andy turned and found Sharon, leaning against the doorway, beaming proudly. Yes, it was a very big deal.
Weeks passed and work was work. Cases pulled at their energy reserves and tugged at the hearts. Man's inhumanity to man and their inability to stop it made them question themselves. Their duty to seek and secure justice for their victims and their families pushed them to continue.
Wedding plans were moving ahead. Time off had been secured. Sharon had seen to that. They would have the day before the ceremony and a full week following, taking them from final preparation to time off to enjoy a simple honeymoon trip. They wouldn't go far. That would have to wait, but they would get away. Andy had also put in his request for the Saturday before. His son had booked a fishing excursion in Marina del Rey for Andy and his sons, as well as the perpetually grumpy Provenza. As promised, no strippers or booze, which would virtually assure a grumpy Provenza.
They had him and Patrice over for dinner at their first opportunity to include them in their plans. There was so much to share with them.
They sat down to eat, grilled swordfish and scallops on the menu. That was sure to put the old main a good mood.
"So tell me, Sharon, how are the plans coming," said Patrice, eager to hear all about the arrangements. She would later tell them her husband was just as excited, but would never let on to anyone who asked.
"Everything is handled. The kids are taking care of a lot of it, dresses, suits and flowers. We'll be prepping dinner ahead of time and Julio and Buzz will be supervising the food the day of. I've been promised that's a good idea," she chuckled.
Patrice joined her in laughing at the thought.
"Well, I'm certainly happy to step in and help out in the kitchen that day. Put me to work, whatever you all need."
Sharon reached over and laid a hand atop the other woman's.
"You're not planning on serving girly food at this wedding, are you, Flynn?" asked his partner.
"Girly food?" asked the ladies, as one.
"You know," he continued. "Finger sandwiches, celery," he sneered.
"No," Andy assured him. "But if you want to eat, you're gonna have to catch it yourself."
"What?" he bellowed. "What kind of sick, twisted wedding are you throwing, Flynn?"
They all laughed at the alarming shade of red emerging from Provenza.
"Hold your horses, old man. We're going fishing. Private excursion off of Marina del Rey. You, me, my boys. The Saturday before the wedding. We keep what we catch. They clean everything. We'll freeze it and cook it for dinner the night of the wedding."
"What a terrific idea," said Patrice. "Oh, Louie, that sounds fun."
Provenza sat back in his chair and thought about it. It didn't sound so bad.
"Not awful, I'll admit. We'll come back and do a bachelor party that night, I suppose."
"Nope. That is the bachelor party. Just fishing. No booze, no women. Absolutely no strippers."
He stared at his friend, open-mouthed. Ruined, he was.
"Perfect. No liquor, no women. We'll all come home smelling of fish. Perfect bachelor party all around," he said with no humor at all.
"And I get to spend the day with my kids, and no one gets arrested or ends up handcuffed to a stripper," he said, carefully enunciating his words and eyeing the old man.
The ladies eyes grew wide with shock and a little humor.
"We swore we'd never speak of that."
"Stop complaining and we never will," said Andy, wearing a tight grin.
"We'd love your help," said Sharon, intervening before the discussion between the men devolved further. "And we'd love to have you both stand up with us as well."
That got Provenza's attention.
"We're not planning on a traditional wedding party," Sharon continued. "Just our children standing with us, joining our families as well as ourselves."
"That's lovely, Sharon," said Patrice.
"But I know how much having the lieutenant means to Andy, and to me as well, Louie," she said sweetly. "So, we'd like to ask the two of you to be our witnesses as well."
Patrice looked at her husband, knowing how touched he'd be, but how reticent he would be to admit it.
"Sharon, Andy, we'd be.." she began.
"Honored," Provenza said, gently interrupting. "Flynn, Captain. We'd be honored."
A string of high-profile cases kept them going for the next few weeks. Apparently death and hatred cared not for wealth or class.
By the day of the fishing trip, the were more than ready for a break. They had secured their fishing licenses and bought plenty of sunscreen. Heading out at half past six in the morning, they piled into Dean's large Suburban and made the hour's drive to Marina del Rey, arriving in plenty of time for their eight a.m. excursion reservation. Their personal guide, Mitch, welcomed them aboard.
They were given a quick tutorial, their lifejackets, and stationed about the boat before finally getting out on the water. They were ready for an adventure.
Sharon, Emily, and Nicole met Patrice at a nearby bridal shop to pick up their dresses. Sharon would have her final fitting to make sure everything was perfect before taking it home. The girls decided it was a good time to reveal their selections as well. Patrice figured a few pictures would make for good memories.
The girls emerged first. Sharon had instructed them only to choose something in the purple family, preferably something light enough for early spring, and something they could easily wear again. They were marrying in the backyard, not a cathedral.
Nicole and Emily appeared in dressed of matching chiffon, in a light plum. Both dresses fell to just above the knee, but were otherwise different. Nicole's was a one-shoulder number, gathered snugly at the waist and easily paired with a nude heel. Emily's was strapless, dipped at the center and belted. They looked beautiful.
Patrice grinned and had them spin as she snapped pictures.
When Sharon appeared, the silliness ended. In its place was silent awe. She may not be marrying in a cathedral, but she was no less regal.
She stepped into the space and onto the lifted step and stared at herself in the mirror, taken aback by her own reflection.
The gown was strapless with a sweetheart neckline, not too low. She wasn't twenty. She wanted alluring, not revealing. The fabric was not quite white. Ivory, it was called, and covered in lace. Woven into the lace were tiny pearls of lavender, giving it an incandescent glow. Wrapped around the top was a swathe of ivory tulle, giving her the added coverage she desired and her groom would undoubtedly remove first. It was elegant and sophisticated. It was bridal, without screaming first-time bride.
The tears came. She felt beautiful.
"Oh, Sharon," said Nicole.
"Mom, you're the most beautiful bride I've ever seen."
Patrice simply smiled at her friend and tried to capture the moment her friend realized just how beautiful she was.
The men returned, triumphant and tanned, with a cooler full of fish and a day filled with stories.
"Showers first!" she called as they entered the house. They looked happy and tired. Even Rusty, not a fan of the great outdoors, looked to have had a marvelous time.
"You guys go first. You can use our bathroom, if you like. I'll get the fish wrapped and in the freezer, then I'll have my turn," said Andy.
Turning to Sharon, he smiled. "If I promise not to get you all stinky, can I have a kiss?"
Tilting her head, she grinned. He looked so happy.
She took a step toward him and planted a kiss firmly on his lips.
"You had a good day," she stated, beaming up at him.
"I had a great day." He leaned against the counter and folded his arms. "I was with my boys all day, on the water. Rusty caught a fish," he said with a smile that matched her own. "He mostly recorded our adventures, but he caught an honest to goodness fish on his own. Ricky got to drive the boat. Jeff caught a mess of fish. You can thank him for the food at the wedding. He was a machine, that boy. Louie fell overboard, without a doubt the best part of the day."
"He what?" she asked, both alarmed and tickled, since he was clearly not upset.
"He's fine, really. He was wearing his lifejacket. It was at the end of the trip. He was being his usual joyful, jovial self. Insert pain in the butt. He tripped on a line, flipped over the side and landed in the fish net. He went home smelling far worse than any of us. I'm fairly sure Patrice made him hose off in the yard before gong inside. Dean put him in the back of the suburban on a bed of plastic sheeting," he said, laughing.
She quickly joined him. Oh, it felt good to laugh after the week they'd endured.
"What about you?" he asked as he struggled to stop laughing. "Dress fit?"
"Perfectly. The girls look beautiful."
"I can't wait to see you in that gown," he said, bending low to steal another kiss.
"Well, you don't have to for much longer. A week. You ready?"
He took her hand, figuring she wouldn't mind that much. His thumb traced invisible circles atop the soft skin there.
"Am I ready to marry the girl I've been fantasizing about for the last six years, building a friendship with for five, courting for three, dating for two, loving, well, I think I was born loving you, sweetheart. My heart just had to find you, is all. I am absolutely ready."
She went into his arms, forgetting his morning on the water, the smell of sweat and fish.
"Good," she husked through tears. "Me too."
The week that followed brought highs and lows. Their children were home for the wedding, but the criminals of LA were going to make them earn their time off. Between Monday and Thursday, they closed two cases back to back, each of them working late into Thursday evening to finish and submit their reports. Provenza sent the bride and groom home that night, with assurances that he would handle Friday with efficiency and an attention to detail that would make the Raydor proud- his wedding gift.
So it was that they found themselves alone in the tub later that night, washing the week away until there was nothing left but peaceful, joyful anticipation for what was, finally, to come.
"So, any plans tomorrow, your last day of freedom?" she chuckled as she reclined in the tub. In a delightful reverse of their usual position, he rested against her chest this night, her arms wrapped around him, toying with the hair on his chest.
"First of all, let's get one thing straight, Red, this right here is freedom. As for tomorrow, I've got a little work to do, prepping in the kitchen, and in the backyard for Saturday, before I head over to Dean's. What time are the girls coming over?"
"Not until suppertime, I think. We'll eat, do our nails. You know, girl stuff."
"No male strippers then?"
"Hardly," she chuckled. "I'm Skyping in my Mom for the party. At worst, I'm expecting some inappropriate gifts, if Emily's been shopping."
"Would any of these inappropriate gifts include naughty lingerie?" he asked, allowing his hands to travel south.
"Oh, you can count on it, Buster," she said, laughing that low, throaty alto that shot straight to his groin.
"Say, since we'll be forced to spend tomorrow night apart, what do you say, we get out of this tub and give ourselves something to cling to while we're missing each other?"
"Hmm," she hummed in his ear. "If you think you can keep up."
"Oh, ho, ho, my soon to be Mrs. Just you wait."
The sound of laughter rang through the room, but quickly decrescendoed to low, throaty hums and sighs. They were the sounds of pleasure and playfulness, and loving.
Rusty bounded down the stairs with a duffle, which he dropped at the landing. He turned and hung something up in the hall closet, then shuffled into the kitchen.
"Morning," he said, making a beeline for the coffee. "Need help?"
"Nah," said Andy. "Just slicing what can be cut up and put away 'til later. Don't want the guys to have to do anything but stick stuff in the oven, you know? What time are you guys leaving?"
"As soon as Ricky gets down here," he said impatiently. "He takes the longest showers."
"Oh hush," his brother called, descending the stairs two at a time. "Let's go."
Rusty poured a second cup and handed it off to Ricky.
"Alright, we're out of here before Mom gets out of the shower," he said. "Be back in a little while."
"Okay, you guys be safe on the freeway."
"Yes, Dad," they drawled in unison, and were gone.
Emily appeared next, yawning as she entered the kitchen.
"Please tell me there's coffee."
"And cream and sugar. You're on vacation, after all. I got the hazelnut, just for you."
"Thanks, Dandy. You're the best. Do you think I can borrow one of your cars to go pick up the cake? The boys took Rusty's."
"Sure," said Andy. "Take mine. It's got more room in the back. I don't know how big a cake she picked out, but just in case, there's space. Keys are on the hook by the garage door. Just be safe out there, baby."
She grabbed his keys and kissed his cheek, thinking how nice it was to have someone concerned for her safety. Someone other than her mom. Someone like a dad.
"For a house with three additional humans in it, it's awful quiet this morning," said Sharon, entering the kitchen, dressed for the day.
"Because those three extra humans are out running wedding-related errands," he said, turning around to present her with a cup of coffee. "Good morning, bride."
"Good morning, my groom," she said pressing a kiss to his lips and humming in the process. "Need help with your meal prep? What else needs to be done?" He certainly seemed to have it well in hand.
"The fish is cleaned and filleted. The vegetables are chopped. I'll store them in water so they don't brown. This afternoon before I go, I'll lay everything out on the right trays and cover them. All the recipes you copied down are all laid out right here," he said, showing her. "All the guys will have to do is pop everything in the oven at the appropriate time. Em's gone to pick up the cake."
He finished what he was doing, went to the sink to wash his hands, then leaned on the counter, facing her.
"You've been very busy."
"Well, I don't want either of us worried about anything tomorrow, you know? Plus, once I leave for Dean's this evening, I can't come back. If there's something undone, you'll insist on doing it and then you won't relax and enjoy your party. So, now it's done and we can enjoy our day. Say, want to see what I've been working on outside? It's been in the garage, but the boys pulled it out for me last night after we went to bed."
She nodded, smiling. He'd been hard at work on some mystery project in his rare off-time. That he was now eager to show her was both a relief and exciting.
She followed him outside and around the corner to where the pool stretched the length of the lawn, and stopped. Apparently their boys had done more than simply pull something out of the garage last night. On either side of the pool where wooden chairs, natural and unpainted, paired together, only about a dozen in all. At the far end of the pool, nearest their bedroom, was an arbor, made of what looked like old tree limbs. It was rustic, earthy, with vines and flowers wound around the wood. Gardenias, her favorite. Back toward the patio near the kitchen, the picnic table was set up and covered, waiting for the cake and other treats. The small area they often used for dancing was cleared and ready for just that. She'd always imagined this yard would be perfect for a wedding. She was right.
"Oh, Andy. This is perfect. The arbor. You did this, didn't you?"
He stood back, watching, pleased to see she approved. He'd wanted to make something special for her to enjoy on their day. Something just for them. Stepping up behind her, he slipped his hands around her waist and pulled her close against him, resting his chin on her shoulder.
"I'm glad you approve. It's my wedding gift to you."
She turned in his arms and kissed him with all of the emotion she felt, all the love bubbling inside of her.
"I can't wait to be your wife," she said in between kisses.
"Hey, we're back," they heard from the kitchen.
"That would be my other gift," he told her, causing her to raise her eyebrows. "Out back!" He called. "You're going to want to come with me."
They turned back toward the house, Andy thinking they'd meet them halfway. Ricky and Rusty stepped into the yard, their special guests beside them.
"There she is, the beautiful bride!"
Sharon froze. "Daddy? Mom?" She rushed into their arms, and held them tight, knowing the opportunity to be more rare one with every passing year. "Oh," she sighed against them. "I can't believe you made it."
"Andy made it so easy, we couldn't say no," said her father. "He hired a car to deliver us to the airport, a guide to help navigate us to the gate. He paid for our tickets. The boys picked us up and got us here."
"And we're staying at Dean's tonight so they can have our room," said Rusty. "It's all arranged."
Sharon looked from her father to her fiance to her sons. These men had loved her like no others. They had all conspired to make her wedding perfect.
"Thank you, all of you. Come inside. Let me show you the house. Andy's spent the last year transforming it into my dream house. He's a sneaky thing, that one."
She led them into the house with Andy trailing behind them. The boys took their luggage upstairs and put it in the room with the double bed that Emily usually used when visiting.
Sharon showed them the dining room and the kitchen, the family room and their beautiful bedroom, where so much of Andy's handiwork was on display.
"The woodwork is all Andy's, floors, bookshelves, some of the furniture. The master bath is life-changing, Mom. It's my favorite part of the house, and the double doors leading outside. We'd never leave the bedroom if we didn't have to go to work."
Her father chuckled in the doorway.
"She didn't mean it like that," said Andy, stifling his own laughter. "It's just our sanctuary," he said.
"I know what she meant, and it was probably both," said her father. "She's her mother's daughter," he said outright.
Andy looked at his future father in law, a smile creeping across his face. He really liked this guy.
From the bathroom, he heard laughter, followed by, "She's right, Andy. It is life-changing."
They settled in at the dining room table and enjoyed a simple lunch as soon as Emily returned with the cake. Ricky carried it inside and got it situated on the counter. Then, they sat down to Andy's mushroom risotto and salad.
"You're getting a man who can cook," said her mother. "That's a bonus. This is delicious, Andy."
"Thank you. Sharon and I enjoy cooking together when we get the chance. Our hours make it difficult. Rusty keeps us fed during the week."
"Was it difficult getting time off for the week?" asked her father. "Criminals don't keep a schedule."
"No, they don't," said Sharon. "But I cashed in some vacation days. I figured Andy's bent over backwards for me over the past couple of years. It was my turn," she said, reaching for his hand. "I feel kind of bad now that you're here and we're leaving day after tomorrow."
Her parents looked across the table at Andy and they all shared a smile.
"On Sunday, we will fly to San Jose. Ricky will travel with us. Ricky will drive them to Mountain View on his way to Palo Alto. We will then catch our connecting flight. Remember your coat."
She looked around the table at these people, these beloved people who weren't telling her anything about her honeymoon. Getting a few more hours with her folks, even on a plane, sounded wonderful. That Andy had arranged it all to make them comfortable and safe, as well as get them here to be with her, was marvelous and so like him. Not knowing anything about their ultimate destination? Frustrating.
"Fine," she deadpanned. "Pass the salad, please."
They snickered together. Their Sharon did not appreciate surprises.
The time came for the men to take their leave. They would be spending the night at Dean and Nicole's, the safest, cleanest environment they could think of. With two boys under ten, they wouldn't be getting up to much trouble. Still, he wasn't terribly eager to go. He wanted to be home with Sharon. It was, as he said, his sanctuary. Her parents were there. He wanted the time to visit with them. They'd had no real time to get acquainted.
"I'll call you before I go to bed," he promised. "And I'll pick you up for breakfast before we head to the church."
"It'll be good to see you first thing in the morning, to touch base. You know, check our head spaces on the big day."
"Yeah, that's what I was thinking. Plus, it'll be hard enough sleeping without you," he said sincerely. "We don't sleep so well apart."
"No, we don't. Maybe we can still sleep together, just not in the same room," she said. "Call me at bedtime." She kissed him soundly. "I'll wait for you."
He kissed her again. "Tomorrow I get to marry you. I can't believe it. Am I lucky or what?"
"No, I think that's me." She kissed him again, then turned him toward the door. "Call me tonight."
"Promise," he called.
She turned to face the room, her shoulders slumping.
"Aw, Mom," said Emily. "He'll be back in the morning. You're getting married!" She went to her and wrapped her arms around her. "You guys are too cute." She turned to her grandmother. "They really like being together."
"We're much better that way, honestly," Sharon mumbled. "I promise you."
"It's not like he's getting into trouble, Mom."
"That's not the issue at all. That's why they're staying at Dean's. To balance out Provenza," she chuckled. "We just don't like being forced into silly traditions we don't like just because others expect it of us."
"Well, he is seeing you tomorrow before the wedding. That's throwing out the conventional wedding day tradition," said her mother. "And I think it's lovely, going to church together, checking in with one another the morning of the wedding. I think it'll put both of you at ease."
"I think so too, Mom. Okay, let's get dinner going and start on these nails. Get my mind off Andy not being here tonight. Nicole and Patrice should be here any minute."
Emily approached her and placed her hands on her shoulders. "You, hit the tub, have a soak. Then, a mani-pedi while we snack. Then, presents," she said clapping her hands.
"You're going to give me inappropriate things to open in front of my mother. I just know it," she whined as she left the room, to which her mother crowed with laughter.
Sharon ran a bubble bath, then texted her fiance. "Running a bath. Wish you were here."
"Me too. Don't suppose you'd send a pic. I'm desperate here."
She rolled her eyes and set the phone down. Removing her clothes, she stepped into the tub, thinking how nice it was that Andy always helped her, just to keep her from slipping. Sitting down, she sighed as the heat enveloped her body and the tightness in her muscles began to ease.
Taking a deep breath, she reached for her phone, aimed ever so carefully, and snapped a photo. It was suggestive, but modest enough. She was entirely covered, albeit by bubbles. Taking a deeper breath, she hit send and set the phone aside.
Not a moment later, the phone buzzed. She laughed as she grabbed the towel waiting nearby. Drying her hand, she then lifted the phone. His reply made her laughter deepen.
"Good God, woman. I have a weak heart, remember? Sexy as hell, I tell you."
"Well, you asked. How's it going there?"
"It's fine. Pizza and a movie so far. Boys are fun. All things considered, I'd still rather be with you."
"So would I. I'll call you later. I've an appointment with my daughter for a mani-pedi. Wouldn't want to keep her waiting. Love you."
"Love you. Talk later."
She finished her bath and slipped into something comfortable for an evening in with friends, a pair of yoga pants and an old LAPD T shirt belonging to Andy. It smelled of him, and she loved that about it.
She rejoined the ladies and found that Nicole and Patrice had joined them. There were snacks laid out and a small pile of gifts waiting. Sharon stood in the doorway, hands on her hips, smiling at their thoughtfulness.
"You guys are terrific."
"That's what you wear to your bachelorette party, Mom?"
Emily met her in the hallway and grabbed her by the hand, dragging her into the living room.
"You said get comfortable. I'm comfortable. And this is not a bachelorette party. I said no bachelorette party. We're just getting together and doing our nails for tomorrow."
Emily rolled her eyes. "It's not a wild and crazy party, Mom. No stripper, no jello shots. Just boring gifts and manicures, just like you like it. But make no mistake, Mother, we are celebrating you tonight. Then we'll have you in bed on time, dreaming of Dandy all night long. I promise."
"Wait," said Nicole. "Dandy?" She met them at the sofa and took a seat at Sharon's side. "Spill."
Sharon wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "One of the boys almost called him Dad. Halfway through, switched to Andy. It came out Dandy. It stuck. Now they all say it. He loves it. We both do. You don't mind, do you, honey? He's a far better father figure than Jack has ever been."
"Here, here!" called her mother, raising her cup of tea, causing a roomful of hearty laughter.
Nicole shook her head as her own laughter faded away.
"I don't mind at all. You all have made him so happy and given us our Dad back. We don't mind sharing."
"I didn't do.."
"Sharon," said Nicole. "We've been through this a thousand times. I'll never convince you I'm right. You'll never convince me I'm wrong."
"How about we get to those nails," suggested Patrice. "I brought my bag full of goodies. Pick whatever you like. We'll have you all done in no time."
"This is awesome, Patrice," said Emily. "But I warn you. I have serious dancer feet."
In little more than an hour, Sharon, Emily, and Nicole had hands and feet wedding-ready. Both Patrice and Sharon's mother, Maggie, had already taken care of their salon appointments earlier in the week. They snacked on girly food, as Provenza had called it, as gifts were passed toward the center of the sofa, where the bride waited with wary eyes.
Patrice's gift gave her no pause. She knew her friend to be a woman of good taste and enough empathy to not deliberately embarrass her. The beautifully wrapped package in her lap revealed a set of candles that looked like none to the others they had around the house.
They were pearly white with rounded bottoms.
"They're floating candles for the tub or the pool," Patrice explained. "Since I know you and Andy spend a lot of time in both. They burn cleanly and they're smokeless. They smell of lemon, mint, and rosemary."
"Thank you, Patrice. These are beautiful."
"Look underneath," said her friend. "There's something else," she added, looking over her shoulder.
Moving the candles aside, Sharon felt luxurious fleece and satin. Her eyes twinkled as she ran her fingers over the fabric.
"The bathrobes I told you about from our honeymoon. The ones Louie couldn't stop raving about. I tracked them down and bought a pair for you and Andy. You may never take them off."
"Oh, they'll take them off," Emily mumbled. "Have you met them? As soon as they finally retire, we'll never hear from either of them again. They'll be locked away in that bedroom til the end of time."
Sharon lowered her blushing face, shaking her head while Patrice patted her back. If Sharon thought her mother would mind hearing such things about her personal life, she was mistaken. Maggie seemed thrilled with the positive turn her life had taken.
"There are certainly worse ways to spend your retirement," she said with a smirk, grabbing the attention of the entire room.
"Gram!" called Emily. "You shady lady," she said, winking in clear admiration.
"My dear Emily," said her grandmother. "Where do you think your mother came from? We grow older and we adapt, but we don't give up, darling. We're not done yet."
"Good to know," said Nicole, passing another gift to her new step-mother. "For your honeymoon," she grinned.
"What do you know about my honeymoon?" Sharon asked, wearing her best interrogator's face. Nicole's Cheshire Cat grin had Sharon looking around the room. It seemed Nicole was not the only one who was in the know, so to speak.
"I've no idea where you're going, Dear," said her mother. "I only know you're flying back toward San Jose with us."
"Go ahead, Sharon. Open it," said Nicole, eager to see her face.
Sharon was somewhat less confident with what Nicole may select than what Patrice had chosen. With careful fingers, she tore the paper and set it aside. Opening the box within, she folded back layers of tissue paper, then sank against the sofa, rolling her eyes.
"Sharing is caring, Mom!" called her daughter, with complete disregard for her mother's discomfort.
"This is totally not age-appropriate, Nicole," said Sharon, giving her a side-eye.
"Sharon, you forget I've seen you in a bathing suit." Turning to the others, she mouthed the words So Hot. "Besides, we're talking your honeymoon. This is just for you and Dad and you know he'll love it."
"Come on, Mom. Let's see it," Emily repeated, clapping her hands encouragingly.
Taking a deep breath, Sharon lifted both hands, one half of a bikini in each. Her little crowd reacted with great enthusiasm.
"Sharon," Patrice said softly. "She's right. It's just for Andy and he'll love it. The color's perfect too. Trust me."
And it was. A vivid teal, it would make a striking contrast to her hair. Thankfully, it was also more tasteful than what Nicole could have chosen. It wasn't skimpy, but provided adequate coverage as two-piece suits went.
Sharon settled it back in its box and smiled just a bit. Yes, she thought to herself. Andy would love it. And that was all that mattered.
They finished showering the bride with gifts and for all of her teasing, Emily gave her mother nothing more embarrassing than a beautiful black peignoir.
The gifts were followed by cheesecake and a movie. It was not the wild occasion her girls might have hoped for, but it was an evening they enjoyed. More than that, it was what the bride was comfortable with, and no one wanted her stressed and unsettled the night before her wedding.
She finally managed to slip away and call Andy, later than she'd planned. Still, he answered on the first ring.
"Hi there, beautiful," he said, his voice husky and low.
"Hey. How are you?" she asked, burrowing into the covers and reveling in his scent on his pillow.
"Pitiful and pathetic, according to my partner. Unable to enjoy an evening away from you anymore. I warned them I'd be no fun," he chuckled. "How was your party?"
"It was fine," she said, unconvincingly. "They did my nails, gave me gifts, fed me cheesecake. Honestly, this is the best part of the night."
"Isn't it? I'm so tired, but too keyed up to sleep. I just know I'm not falling asleep on you tomorrow night. That's for sure."
She sighed into the phone, surprising herself with her reliance on his presence.
"You okay over there? Everything alright, babe?" He was a little concerned that she'd really not enjoyed herself.
"Yes. I guess I'm just frustrated. I've lived alone most of my adult life. You'd think I could handle one night by myself. I can't believe how quickly I've become so used to sleeping next to you that facing a night without you seems unthinkable."
"I know. These sheets don't smell anything like you. I miss burying my nose in your hair. There's too much extra space in this bed. This is all wrong."
"It is," she agreed in a whining voice. "Sleep with me?"
"Yeah. Got my pillow?" he asked, turning on his side.
"Already hugging it. It smells like you. Look in the bottom of your duffle."
Sitting up, he leaned over the side and reached into his bag, rummaging through it until he felt something familiar. Pulling it from the bottom, he recognized one of their pillowcases. Bringing it to his face, he took a deep breath and smiled.
"You're the best, babe." He curled up beneath the covers and tucked the pillowcase beneath his chin. "Now, just imagine I'm right behind you, spoon-style. My arms are around you, my breath is on your neck."
"Your nose is buried in my hair and I'm holding your hands over my heart. Just stay on the line while I fall asleep."
"I'll stay on the line all night long so I can hear you breathe." A moment later, "Goodnight, Sweetheart."
"Goodnight, Love."
Emily and Nicole got the grandparents settled in the upstairs double before making up a palette on the living room floor. Patrice would take the sofa. The pair had been talking and were concerned that Sharon had not fully enjoyed her evening, having perhaps been pushed further than she liked to spend the night away from Andy. Before bedding down, they decided to check on her.
Peeking in the bedroom door, they found her curled around a pillow, hair framing her face. She was swallowed up in one of Andy's sweatshirts and her cellphone was resting next to her on the pillow. In the near silence of the room, they could hear a faint purring on the other end of the line.
"Oh my gosh," Nicole whispered. "That's my dad." She shook her head. "They found a way to sleep together."
"They really are the sweetest."
"This will be an everlasting love!" rang through the house, heralding the day they had waited for since the first time they'd seen their parents together. There was an air of joyful anticipation as Patrice and Maggie worked in the kitchen, preparing a light breakfast for themselves and coffee for Sharon, knowing she was eating with her groom.
When Sharon emerged, dressed in a blouse of lavender silk and soft grey slacks, she appeared far more rested than they might have imagined. Around her neck, she wore the crucifix given to her by her groom, fitting for their meeting with Father Stan.
"Good morning, dear," said her mother, offering her a cup of coffee. "You look well-rested this morning. I guess you slept better than you thought you would without your Andy then?"
"Oh, he was with her," said Emily. "In spirit, at least. Those two always find a way."
"You look very pretty to day, darlin'," said her father, resting his hands atop her shoulders. "You got a minute for your old dad?"
Sharon looked over her shoulder and smiled.
"Of course I do, Dad."
She turned toward the back door and led him to the patio out back.
The morning was cool and clear. It should prove to be a lovely day for a wedding. She took a seat at the picnic table and sipped from her coffee cup, waiting for him to say whatever it was he had on his mind.
"You look happy, my girl, happier than I've seen you in a very long time. I don't mean satisfied with your career or happy with how your kids have turned out. I mean you look genuinely content. Like the silly giddiness of young love and the utter contentment of knowing you can be completely yourself that you find with mature love. You've found someone worthy of sharing your days, worthy of your children. Your mother and I are so pleased for you."
He reached into his pocket and withdrew a box, about the size of his palm. Setting it on the table, he pushed it toward her.
"We thought about what we could give you to share with Andy, something that represents our life together, something to guide you both as you begin your own."
Sharon lifted the box and opened it. She tilted her head, and raised a shaking hand to her lips.
"Oh."
"Your mother gave that to me on our wedding day. The inscription on the back sums us up rather well."
She turned over the watch, its burnished brass somewhat worn by time and wear, and found the words he'd mentioned.
"Minutes to days to months to years, sickness and health, laughter and tears. The hours I'm given, be they many or few, I offer them all, my love, to you."
"It does, indeed. I think it sums us up rather well too. Thank you, Dad."
She went from the front door into his waiting arms. It felt like home.
"Oh, you smell so good," he said in her ear.
She smiled at the sound of his voice, that raspy baritone she so loved.
"You look beautiful. This color is great," he added. "You hungry?"
"Mmm, maybe a little. Something small, perhaps. Fruit? I don't trust my stomach with anything heavier."
"Nervous?" he asked, free of judgement, taking her hand as they walked to the car.
"Nervous excitement is a better description. I can't wait for the ceremony. I could do without everyone staring at me."
"Well, I don't know what to tell you, babe. There's no way to avoid that. Every time you walk into a room, people stare. You just don't always notice. Here's the thing. I'm going to be staring too. So, just look at me. I'll be the guy in the suit looking for all the world like he can't figure out how he got so lucky."
He framed her face in his palms and searched her face until he saw her relax.
"Okay. Let's get going. You promised me breakfast before church," she said, pecking him on the lips. Taking a deep breath, she stepped past him and climbed into his car.
The sat confession with Father Stan, then took communion. Afterward, the three of them sat together in the pews of St. Joe's, touching base, checking nerves. They got on well, Sharon and Stan going back for years. They'd been over the order of service already and had no further questions. They lingered for no other reason than they didn't wish to return home only to be separated again.
When they finally left the church, Andy suggested a detour to draw out their time together. He drove them to a city park with a drive-through botanical garden that he'd discovered in a local magazine. An hour together, surrounded by beauty and fragrance and quiet was just what they needed. It was there that she gave him her father's pocket watch, along with her faith in their future, be it long or short.
When he deposited her back at the house, they had only a few hours remaining before they would be joined permanently.
Sharon made her way inside, where a bath and her wedding gown awaited. Andy returned to his son in law's home, his sons there to help him get ready.
If the girls were concerned with how long she'd been gone, they said nothing. Maggie had cautioned them against it. Sharon had gone along with their plans, allowing them to shower her with gifts and attention, and keep her from her groom the previous evening. Today, she would do things on her own terms, and she had earned the right. Whatever she needed to keep her calm and floating through her wedding day, she would get. She was, after all, the bride. She'd spent the lion's share of her adult life doing for others and tailoring her days to their own. If today she chose to keep the fuss to a minimum as she went about her preparations, there was no harm in that.
She powered on the stereo system and turned the volume down low, the sultry alto of an artist they'd recently discovered spinning a tantalizing melody. In the bathroom, she started the water to filling the tub, adding the essence of her favorite gardenias to sweeten the water as well as her skin. Pinning her hair up, she shed her clothes and lowered herself into the steaming water with a sigh. She was only hours away now.
What a road they had traveled to arrive at this day. The day she'd married Jackson felt nothing like this. She'd been excited, of course, head over heels. She'd had the more traditional girls' night, and he'd certainly enjoyed his Bachelor party, a little too much, it turned out. But there were nerves and laughter and the rush of it all. Her parents were unhappy, to say the least. They simply didn't understand the need for such haste. Jack's dependence on their daughter would reveal itself soon enough. Ironically, she would never be able to depend on him.
Today felt entirely different. She was excited, of course, but there was a sense of serenity underscoring it all. No hustle, no dashing hither and yon. Everything was ready. Andy had waited, just as he'd promised. In the end, everything just coalesced.
Smiling, she climbed carefully from the tub and wrapped herself in a towel. In the bedroom, she found not her robe, but a gift box. Opening it, she found a two-piece T shirt and shorts in white, the word Bride scrawled across the backside. Emily. With a roll of her eyes and an admitted frisson of excitement, she put them on before going in search of a cup of peppermint tea. If was time to start getting ready.
A roar of catcalls and whistles spoke to the approval of her girls, and she blushed a warm pink as she covered her face on her way to the kitchen.
"I told you," said Nicole. "Hot."
"Emily clearly got her dancer's body from you, Sharon," said Patrice, who met her in the kitchen and poured her a cup. "Tea, yes? Are you ready to do your hair?"
"I am, yes," she sad, glowing.
The girls sent up a cheer, having waited hours to get started. They rose and led the way back to the bedroom, Patrice and Sharon bringing up the rear.
Julio and Buzz entered through the side door with a cooler of supplies. Instantly they paused and shared a look.
"Was that the Captain?" asked Buzz. "She was practically naked."
"They were shorts, Buzz. Wait 'til you've seen her in a bathing suit."
"You've seen her.. damn. Her legs go on for miles. Who knew?"
Julio snorted and shot him a look. "Um, everybody but you, I guess."
He moved around his friend and got to work unloading what they had brought while Buzz stood, eyes still fixed in the direction taken by his Captain, apparently also a leggy broad underneath her power suits, wondering Where the hell have I been?
The house began to fill with the savory aromas of garlic, peppers, and dill, mingled with tart lemon and tangy parmesan. The ersatz catering crew of Sanchez and Watson had the kitchen well in hand, assisted by a pair of youngsters on loan from a private catering company preferred by Dr. Morales. Their assistance for the evening was his gift to the bride and groom.
Andy and his boys arrived and made their way onto the back lawn, arms laden with cardboard boxes filled with fresh flowers. They had their instructions and got right to work.
The wedding arch was decorated with purple and white narcissus, as was practically every other surface in the yard. Patrice's candles were lit and set upon the water to float across the pool.
Andy stood back and looked on in approval. Yes, he thought. His bride would love it. He then called Rusty over and asked him to pass out the flowers to the wedding party, boutonnières to the groomsmen and bouquets to the bridesmaids. Sharon's, he told him, would be last. He wanted her to receive it just before they began.
Rusty knocked on the bedroom door and when his sister opened it, he handed her a cardboard sleeve containing a pair of nosegays and a corsage, all in mauve and lilac. He deliberately averted his eyes, even as eager as he was to see his mother, and quickly slipped from the room.
Their small gathering had assembled, only about twenty of them, there on the back lawn. Dressed in their spring finest, their nearest and dearest, family by birth and by choice, chatted merrily as the sun began to set. The air began to cool around them, as predicted, and soon a newly changed Julio could be seen lighting the fire pits and lanterns scattered about the lawn.
The limestone blocks glowed warmly around the pool's perimeter, sending soft light reaching across the grass.
The groom and his party were dressed in suits of grey, Andy's a shade darker, accented by ties of lavender silk and tiny white rosebuds at their lapels. They looked dapper and happy. Even Provenza, with nothing more than apple cider in his glass, was the very picture of joviality. He may have spent the better part of the previous evening grumbling but, truthfully, he'd never seen his old friend happier.
At the appointed time, the music changed and a hush descended over the lawn. The sky overhead burned a rosy gold as their guests took their seats. Andy, Provenza, and the boys made their way to the far end of the yard, near the arbor.
Patrice joined them followed by Nicole, then Emily. Sharon's parents sat right down front, beaming up at their grandchildren, old and new.
"I'll love you 'til the bluebells forget to bloom. I'll love you 'til the clover has lost its perfume. I'll love you 'til the poets run out of rhyme. Until the twelfth of never and that's a long, long time."
The bride appeared and a soft gasp of admiration went up from the group. All eyes found her, but hers found only his. As promised, they were waiting and did not look away. In fact, if she was not mistaken, and she could be at this distance, they began to fill.
Sharon fluttered her lashes in an effort to preserve her makeup and nodded at him. Her smile broadened and his matched.
"You ask how much I need you. Must I explain? I need you, oh my darling, like roses need rain. You ask how long I'll love you. I'll tell you true. Until the twelfth of never I'll still be loving you."
She floated toward him as if on a cloud, like the gossamer that enveloped her shoulders. In her hands, she carried a bountiful bouquet of white gardenia and lavender hydrangea. Tucked into the blossoms was the crucifix.
Still a few feet away, her groom took a step toward her and extended his hand, as if unable to wait another moment to touch her. Their hands found one another, drawn by need or desire. It was magnetic. Once joined, they would not be parted.
He gave a tug and drew her cheek to his own, holding her in place for a beat, sharing the moment as if no one else were there.
"It's just us," he whispered. "Remember."
The small assembly looked on in silence, wondering at the interaction before them. They knew Sharon to be remarkably private, easily in command of a room of officers, totally unmoored as the center of attention otherwise. Even Andy, for all of his natural swagger, had never been at ease being the object of focus in vulnerable situations.
As they lingered there in the peace of their own tiny sphere, the others dropped their eyes, loathe to intrude on such a seemingly private moment.
They allowed themselves only a beat more before they shared a smile, then turned to Father Stan.
"Ever think we'd actually be here, Father?" asked the groom, still holding his bride's hand.
The priest grinned at the pair and nodded. "Actually, yes," he admitted. "From the second time you joined her at Mass."
The pair eyed him quizzically, then one another.
"The first time you came because she invited you. You came to please her. She told me that she wouldn't force you to go. She'd made the invitation and that was that. When you went again, you were making a statement. You weren't just going to make her happy. You were choosing the kind of partnership you wanted to have this time around."
Sharon eyed her groom, tearing up again. Father Stan was right.
"So yes. You could say I saw it coming," he chuckled. "Shall we begin?"
They dined on halibut, mahi mahi, and white sea bass, all courtesy of the groom's party. There was roasted asparagus, sweet slaw, grilled vegetables, and a salad of broccoli, tortellini, bacon, and raisins.
Guests sat down to dinner at small bistro-style tables dotting the area around the pool, while photos of the wedding party were taken. Soon enough, the bride and groom joined them and the celebration began in earnest.
Laughter, like the cider in their flutes, flowed through the night. It was crisp and refreshing, and golden. The team sat together, relishing the time away from the murder and mayhem that typically united them. This wasn't the darker humor that often laced their days, helping to lighten the heavy load they carried by virtue of the careers they'd chosen. This was friendship, camaraderie, joy. It was relief that two people they'd known to be let down by those meant to be true had taken a chance and it had paid it off. Both polar opposites and somehow quite the same, the Mets and Mozart had teamed up to take on the world. Life was hard and it didn't play fair, but they were fighting back.
The bride and groom took seats with Sharon's parents and smiled their thanks when dinner plates were instantly set before them. They sagged happily against each other, their ever-present smiles growing exponentially at the sound of laughter around them.
"Darling, everything is just perfect," said her mother. "The food, the decorations. The children look so happy."
"You two look happy," said her father, reaching to cover his girl's hand.
Sharon and Andy shared a look, not merely a smile. Theirs was a shared understanding, an entire conversation, an agreement. Yes, they were happy, but not only that. They'd chosen to step out in faith together. This was, not the ultimate result, although the choice had indeed led them here. More though, it was a stop along the way, hopefully just one of many. A very special one, yes, but so too would be the many birthdays and grandchildren and other moments they hoped to share.
"Yes," she said, a little breathless. "Very."
The laughter and love stretched long into the evening, along with dancing and photos, and of course, wedding cake. When their children made the move to depart for the night, the team stood to follow. Apparently, they'd been conspiring.
Goodbyes were shared and the house was all but cleared. Their small kitchen crew worked to put it back to rights. Sharon's parents slowly made their way upstairs for the night, leaving the bride and groom alone.
The lawn was cleared. Their guests had departed and the food had been put away. The sun had gone to bed, leaving the yard illuminated only by the moon and the canopy of stars hung overhead. Tunes from the Great American Songbook played softly over the gentle sound of the pool's water feature.
They danced, but hardly moved. Her hands laid against his chest, his arms wrapped low around her waist, gathering her close. Their eyes seemed to search one another's, finding whatever it was they needed there, as they swayed so little it was barely discernible. It was enough to simply be held. More than enough.
"What's the plan for tomorrow, husband?" she asked, pecking him on the lips. Lifting a hand, she threaded her fingertips through his hair.
"It's still a surprise, wife," he replied, leaning into her touch and closing his eyes.
"I know that," she sighed. "I've accepted I'm not getting any real details out of you. I was just wondering what time we need to be up and out, is all."
"Well," he chuckled. "Our flight out is at eleven. So we should arrive at the airport by half past nine at the very latest. The kids will drop us. I've requested an escort so your folks won't have to walk to the gate. That'll expedite things. We should plan to leave here between eight and eight thirty. So, not horribly early."
"And you're sure I've packed appropriately for wherever you're taking me?"
"Did you pack something to keep you warm as well as something to keep you cool, and a bikini too?"
She laughed and dropped her head to his chest. Her shoulders shook and it felt good.
"So, as long as I've packed for all possible wardrobe needs, I'm covered?"
"Yeah," he drawled out. "And that we have a long day ahead of us, so we might want to go to bed," he said, nuzzling her neck. When she slid her hands upward to the base of his neck and tugged him closer still, he grinned. "Maybe just one more dance."
It was three more before they retreated to their bedroom through the patio doors. Then, they engaged in a dance of another nature. The tempo was slow and lyrical, the rhythm hypnotic and steady. As they rid each other of the last layers that separated them, the tempo increased. Temperatures rose. Lips and hands grew greedy. There was a newness to the familiar motions and as they sank into the mattress and twisted among the streets, they shut out all else until all that remained was Mr. and Mrs. Flynn.
The flight from Los Angeles to San Jose took little more than an hour. After a layover just long enough for a meal with her parents, Sharon and Andy boarded their connecting flight after bidding them goodbye. Ricky would drive them home on the way back to Palo Alto.
Finally, Sharon had some idea of their destination.
"Oregon?" she asked, brows raised. "What made you think of Oregon, Andy?"
He sat back in his seat, another surprise. Two business class seats, spacious and luxurious, despite the less that two hour flight.
"Well, I can't tell you much without giving it all away. I just wanted some place beautiful, and far away from the noise of LA. I want you all to myself, sweetheart."
She leaned her head on his shoulder and curled her hands around his arm. "Nothing wrong with that," she said, kissing his shoulder. "Nothing at all."
"We'll land in about two hours. Drive one more. Be there by dinner."
He freed his arm only to wrap it around her and draw her closer. Kissing the top of her head, he sighed and said, "I really think you're going to love it. If it's half as good as the photos online, we're in for a great week." Cupping her cheek with his free hand, he tugged her near and pressed a kiss to her lips. "It was a perfect day, wasn't it?"
She looked up at him with a broadening grin. "And a perfect night."
Andy's smile grew to match hers. "Yeah."
The arrived before sunset, their flight on time and their rental car ready and waiting. The day had gone remarkably smoothly and for that, both were grateful. After the previous day and it's long evening, they were tired.
Andy wheeled the four-wheel drive off the main road onto one of gravel and dirt that wound through a thickly forested area. Trees and brush rose high all around them, the pines towering above. After a final bend in the road, a large structure of redwood and glass thrust upward from the mountain.
"Oh," she said on a sigh. "Andy," she added, stretching out her hand and setting it on his leg. "Oh, Andy, it's marvelous."
He pulled the car up to the house and stopped. She was right. It was fantastic. It was every bit as amazing as the pictures on the website. Nodding, he pumped his fist on the steering wheel before killing the engine and exiting the car. In an instant, he circled the hood and opened her door.
She stepped out and pulled her coat more snugly around her. It's cold up here.
He reached into the backseat and grabbed both of their bags. Slinging one over his shoulder, he grabbed his wife's hand and led her toward the house in the trees.
They started up the stairs leading to the porch, which wrapped around the structure. Reaching the landing, he let go of her hand long enough to unlock the door. Then, dropping their bags inside the door, he lifted her instead.
"Andy!" she called as he scooped her up. "We are not twenty year olds. You'll hurt yourself."
"Nope. This is one tradition I've been looking forward to, sweetheart."
He stepped into the house and before setting her back down, kissed her soundly, drawing forth the hum he so loved.
"Now," she husked against his mouth. "Please, set me down. I have plans for you this week and they require you to be uninjured."
"Why didn't you just say so, woman?"
He set her down gently and took her hand. Leading her through the house, he looked around with wide eyes.
"Over here should be the," he said, stepping around the corner, "Yes. Check it out."
The bed was large and tucked in the far corner of the great room. Other than the bathroom, the house was single, large open space with walls of glass and beams. They were surrounded by trees, bathing in nature.
On the far side of the room, was a large tub, set conveniently in front of the hearth. The floors were hardwood, scattered with rugs. There was a fire burning low in welcome and fresh flowers were stationed about the space.
"Has someone been here?" she asked, looking around. "There's a fire in the hearth and the bed's turned down."
"Yeah, I had someone arrive here ahead of us. Stock the fridge, start a fire. Get things ready. I knew we'd have a long day and we'd be too tired to do much more than eat and go to bed."
She turned and followed him to the kitchen, where he was already pulling things from the fridge, his thoughts on dinner for his bride.
"I'm guessing you're probably really hungry, but don't want to eat anything too heavy, given the hour. Am I right?"
She slid up behind him and wrapped her arms around his middle. "You are, indeed."
Together, they made short work of a simple soup and salad, leaving them more time for more pleasurable activities. They made great use of the tub.
They touched, caressed, and kissed with a sense of wonder and fulfillment of promises made, a long-held dream realized. They sank into the fragrant steam, and simply were.
He took her to bed and held her until she slept. Only then did he follow her into dreams. When they awoke wrapped in nothing but the bedding, greeted by the first subdued rays of daylight and protected by a hedge of towering pines, they loved the world away before succumbing again to sleep.
When they finally emerged from their mountain of covers, they dressed and assembled a breakfast of bagels and fruit. Then, they explored the environs. Senses flooded and footsteps silenced, they tromped through the woods, the ground thickly carpeted with pine needles and the air sweetened by dewey mountain air.
Less than half a mile away, they were given their next gift in the form of an impressive waterfall, cascading in impressive sheets of thunderous torrents. Standing at the base of the forest floor, they looked up into the towering green and felt utterly small, literally surrounded by creation.
"Honey, this is," she took a deep breath and let it out as she looked all around. "It's beyond anything I was expecting. How did you ever come up with this?"
"My wife likes to be immersed in nature," he said, wrapping both arms around her and spinning them both so that the waterfall was at their backs. Lifting his phone he caught them in the camera's eye and snapped a picture, the beautiful scenery behind them.
She smiled. "I remember saying that in November, when you took me to Point Fermin. You told me my hair smelled of honey," she said, leaning her head against his shoulder, turning her face into his neck.
Andy chuckled, remembering that. "I did. But I was actually thinking of the day we met the boys at the beach and got caught making out. Your face when you sat looking out at the ocean. You become a part of it. All the stress of being Captain Raydor just melted away."
She turned in his arms and laid her palms flat against his chest.
"That was, what, a year ago? You weren't thinking of honeymoon destinations a year ago, Andy." At his somewhat bashful grin, she tilted her head. "A year ago?"
"Sweetheart, I couldn't predict the future, but that doesn't mean I haven't been dreaming about it for an awfully long time. And what do you know? Some dreams do come true."
Sharon studied his face. He was being neither saccharine nor trite. This was not a man given to optimism. He'd been dealt enough blows to know things didn't always work out in the end and life didn't usually play fair. No, this was her husband holding onto one dream that had been fulfilled. She wouldn't let it fail. They both deserved all the love and care they could give it.
