Fix It for Us (29 page)

When I let go, within moments, Davis plunges into me and I instantly feel whole again.   I feel myself rippling and contracting around him and he hasn’t even moved.  And then we move, slide, rock and yes, pound into each other.  Davis is so close I can tel
l.  He is looking down at me very intently.  My build-up is becoming unbearable, overwhelming.  When his mouth begins to open into an “O” and I perceive the beginning of his spasm, my own shuddering, vibrating orgasm overtakes me and I can no longer keep eye contact.  My chin points toward the ceiling, I scream out his name and slap his back repeatedly.  Davis just pushes harder into me, his own head thrown back.  A violent, almost painful, howl resonates from him.  We pant and grasp one another, rapidly and then slower as the crescendo resolves.

             
“Not too rowdy?”  I ask, once I catch my breath and my scattered brain cells regroup.

             
Looking down at me while propped up with a forearm at either side of my head, Davis replies panting,  “No.  Well, I
am
a little dizzy, but…No.” He pulls out of me and flops onto his back.  Then he slides his arm across my stomach and hooks his hand on my hip bone. 

             
“Good, because I’d like to explore all those ways you are going to make me scream ‘Davis’ once you get un-dizzy.”  I say.

             
“Um…yeah.  I’m gonna need a minute. Or 800… to recover.” 

             
For a little while, I almost forgot we were both recently injured.  I turn just my head to peruse his super handsome profile.  “You take all the time you need, Mavis.  Baby, I’m not going anywhere.”’

             
Davis’ voice is slurred and slow, “Good, so good, baby…” His eyelids flutter.  I think he’s falling asleep. It has been a long, eventful day.  “Hap.. Bir..Day, bab-.”  And he’s out.

Chapter 10-
OCTOBER

“Dad?  Daddy? Are you crying?” I say, turning my face toward my dad, Calvin Connelly.  He’s a big tough guy, not girly or overly sentimental in the least.  And he’s struggling not to cry.    We’re outside the door to the Alumni House about to go in.  Jules is standing in front of us ready to walk down the aisle as my maid, scratch that, MATRON of Honor.  Except nobody knows that. 

Davis and I selected the
Alumni House at Weldon, also known as The Lum, for the wedding ceremony and reception, because neither of us is overly religious and quite frankly, it was the place we could get on short notice.  Evidently, when booking a venue for a wedding any amount of time shorter than a year is “short notice.”

My dad sniffles and tells me with faux
gruffness, “No, I’m not crying.  I think…” Sniffle.  “I have something in my eye.  Pollen from those damn flowers or something.”  I hand him the embroidered hankie I got from Meredith Brandon with the letter B on in it.  It’s my “something old.”  Her mother-in-law gave it to her on her wedding day.  It’s really quite beautiful.  Hand tatted lace around the edge.  My “something new” is my dress and my “custom PJ” veil.  My dress is classic.  European lace over silk.  Very Grace Kelly.  The “something borrowed” is a diamond bracelet, or rather my mother’s diamond bracelet.  And my “something blue” – a pair of dangly, diamond encircled, blue sapphire earrings, my birthstone.  A wedding present from my husband-to-be.

My dad shakes
his head, sniffles (in a manly way, of course) and hands the hankie back to me, “That’s too pretty for me.  And beside, these are tears… of happiness.”

If it’s possible to smile and frown at the same time, I do. 
“Oh, Dad. I love you.  I’m glad they’re happy tears, because I am happier than I have ever been in my whole life.  Davis makes me very happy.”

My dad pats my hand and kisses me on the forehead and then the nose, “I know he does, Bizzy Girl.  I can tell how much he loves and adores you whenever he looks at you.  As a matter of fact, I never understood the expression ‘only have eyes for you,’ until I saw you two together at your birthday party.  It was like the rest of
us disappeared off the face of the earth.”

             
I lean into his kisses and say, “I feel exactly the same way, Daddy.  I love and adore Davis, too.”

             
I hear the second movement of Winter from Vivaldi’s Four Seasons ending behind the doors.   My parents insisted on a string quartet and trumpets for the wedding and I am so glad they did.  The piece is gorgeous and reminds me of being with Davis when we first got together – in winter and the snow.  It’s almost time.  Jules turns and waves her hand frantically that we need to move to go in.  She bounces up and down a bit.  It strikes me that she didn’t have this kind of wedding, so it’s a big deal for her, too.  Our entrance music starts,
The Prince of Denmark's March, a majestic trumpet voluntary.  Jules goes first and I can hear the ooohs and aaahs.  Her dress really is beautiful and … well, hot, just like she wanted.  When Dad and I step into the doorway, every head turns toward us and the entire congregation all stands.  I squeeze my dad’s arm at the elbow.  He pulls it toward his body.  “Here we go,” he mouths, looking down at me.

             
“Slowly. I want to see everyone.”  I whisper to my dad.  He nods in agreement.

             
I purposely look back and forth to both sides on my way down the aisle.  I want to see each and every person’s face – smiling back at me.  When we get closer to the end of the aisle, to where I know Davis is waiting for me, I allow myself to look straight ahead.  Davis is looking down at his hands or his shoes or the floor, his head tilted to the side a bit.  What’s wrong?  The second the thought crosses my mind, he looks up and I know why he was looking down.  He was prolonging the anticipation of seeing me, or at least that’s what I think he was doing.  His face lights up and his green eyes twinkle with his smile.

             
When I finally get to Davis, I’m shaking, with excitement, sheer joy and a little fear… but not panic.  Nothing like panic.  My dad kisses my cheek and after shaking Davis’ hand, places my hand in Davis’.

             
“Hi,” I squeak, in the tiniest of voices, trying to control the swirl of emotions in my chest.

             
“Hi, Lizard.”  The catch in Davis’ voice surprises me. “Oh my God, you are so beautiful.  You are always beautiful, but today… you are just
stunning
.  Thank you for marrying me.”

             
Holding his hand tighter, I begin to tear up myself and say, “You’re welcome, but we aren’t married yet.”  And then I wink at him.

             
“Well, then, let’s do this!” he says, in classic Davis style.

We step up to
Justice of the Peace, together.

***

“You may kiss the bride,” the Justice directs.

Davis takes my face in his hands, tilts his forehead and nose down to touch mine.  He lightly kisses my upper lip and says, “I love you, Elizabe
th Brandon. My Lizard Breath.”  Again, in a serious moment, he lightens my mood.  I roll my eyes and shake my head slightly and with a laugh say, “Oh, Mavis.”  I tip my lips up and facilitate a real kiss.  Our first married kiss.  Being Davis’ wife is going to be fun.  Davis deepens the kiss and I begin to perceive some whoops and catcalls from the attendees.  We pull away from each other a bit.  I see that Davis looks like I feel, a little embarrassed at being so intimate in front of a crowd.  We both bow our heads for a moment; look back up at each other, smile, and then Purcell’s Trumpet Tune rings out.  Davis and I, clutching at each other, march down the aisle of the Lum and out into the tented yard.  We did it.  Married.  Man and Wife.

***

We’ve eaten dinner, cut the cake and had the toasts.  It’s time for the first dance.  We’ve hired Boxwood to play.  They’ve been working hard learning wedding dance songs that are out of their wheelhouse.  ‘Love Shack’ and ‘Unforgettable’ aren’t exactly Boxwood’s style. 

Charlie moves to the mic and says in rock star fashion, “Hello, Biz and Davis’ Wedding!  We are Boxwood!  Is everyone ready to celebrate!?”  His delivery, like he’s in a
huge arena, makes me, Jules and the rest of our crowd, howl.  The more mature partygoers look at each other questioningly.  Charlie shifts gears and with his next words, sounds like a typical wedding emcee. “It’s time for Biz and Davis’ first dance as a married couple.  Ladies and Gentlemen, Mr. and Mrs. Davis Brandon.”

Davis and I move to t
he floor as the first notes of  “I Knew I Loved You Before I Met You,” begin.  That’s when the idea hits me full force.  Jules and Charlie deserve a first dance, don’t they?  I turn to Davis and say, “Give me a sec.”  Stepping up to Charlie’s mic, I signal the band to stop.  Maybe I’ve had too much champagne, but I think this is a brilliant idea.

“
Umm…Hi…Everyone,” I say, too loudly into the mic.  Charlie moves me back from it a bit. Then I begin to chatter, “We’ll get to the first dance in a moment.  But there’s something you should all know.  Davis and I aren’t the only couple about to have a first dance tonight… ”  I look up to see Jules frantically waving at me like an umpire repeatedly calling someone ‘safe’ and mouthing ‘no.’  I wink at her.  Charlie touches my elbow.  “… they’ve been keeping it a secret, but I can’t stand it any longer…”  They are going to kill me, but here goes!  I look at Jules and then Charlie one more time.  I wave a hand at each of them, in Vanna White fashion and say,  “Ladies and Gentleman, Mr. and Mrs. Charlie Boxwood.”

A huge gasp emits from the party.  I see Jules’ parents, Mr. and Mrs. Hagen’s jaws drop.  They look to Jules, who is now running over to them.  I turn to look at Charlie, who
, with a resigned smirk, only says, “Wow.  That was an interesting choice, Biz.  But, I guess it had to happen sometime.”  Charlie kisses me on the cheek, takes his guitar off and hands it to Simon, the bass player.  “Time to talk to the in-laws.” 

Now Davis has reached my side, “Lizard, you know, that chatter of you
rs is going to get you in so much trouble.”

I am feeling so sassy today, I wonder
if that’s what feeling secure and happy does.  I put my arms around Davis’ waist, kiss him from his jaw up to his ear and husk out, “Promise?”

Everything happened so fast, I just notice that the entire room is now in applause.  And the very surprised Mr. and Mrs. Hagen?  Are hugging their new son
-in-law and daughter.  Thank you very much!  It was a good idea after all.

Boxwood starts up the first dance music again.  Davis and I walk over to Charlie, Jules and her parents.  “I’m sorry about the surprise.”  I say sheepishly to the Hagens.

“It
was
a surprise, Biz…but I think we knew it was coming,” Mr. Hagen tells me kindly.  Mrs. Hagen, a bit weepy, nods agreement and continues to hold both Charlie and Jules’ hand.  Then Mr. Hagen adds, “I think it’s time for that first dance.”

As we walk out to take our places on the dance floor, two married couples, Jules hisses at me, “You are so DEAD!”  Then her tone changes and she giggles, “Thank you.  I didn’t know how I would tell them.  You letting the cat out of the bag at your wedding turned out to be
surprisingly perfect.”  Thank God.  That could have really gone sideways.  I scold myself that I really need to think things through before I talk.  Then I shrug it off and tell myself, “Oh, well… how many people get to have their first dance with the love of their life, their best friend and their fake brother?”

The first dance song changes and Simon invites everyone to join us on the dance floo
r.  I rarely take my eyes off Davis, but when I do, each time I am greeted by a smile and the eyes of another person that wishes me well and loves me.  My parents, his parents, my friends.  It’s perfect. 

Davis pul
ls me up close, our entwined hands clutched between us, his other hand holding me tightly at my waist, my hand on his shoulder.  “You are something else, Lizard.  Biz.  I love you. So. Fucking. Much.  This is going to be an adventure.”

I gaze up into his eyes, his glittering, guy
-linered, green eyes that are, now, mine to look into forever.  “I love you, too.  An adventure, huh?…” and then turning Davis’ phrase back on him, I say, “HAVE FUN.”

Bonus Chapters:

In the Hospital-Davis

             
I have the sensation of peeking through mini-blinds.  The last few times it happened, I peeked and then, as if someone twisted the rod, the blinds slowed, tilted to a close and all the world disappeared behind it.  This time, the “blinds” open a bit.  I look out and can make out blurry figures hovering above me.  Angels?  Then the “blinds” flip open wide – the light and sound are almost too much.  Overwhelmed, I squint and turn my head away.  The “blinds” shut.  It’s then it becomes obvious. 

There are no mini-blinds. 

I’ve been out of it. 

Unconscious, but for how long?  A few minutes?  Hours? Days?  Peeking out of
the “blinds” was how I percieved my brain waking up.  The “blinds” slowly closing was my brain retreating.  I, very purposefully, open my eyes and the figures come into focus.  My mom and…someone else I don’t know, are there.  A  man.  He’s really close.  “Yes.”  He says, “I think he’s coming around.”

             
I hear my mom start crying.  I feel her holding my hand carefully and then her other hand is on my cheek.  “Davis, Oh my God, You’re awake.  You’re going to be okay.”

             
This is so confusing.  I say, ‘Mom?’ to ask what’s going on, but my voice sounds small and harsh, like a child that’s been screaming.  It’s actually a little painful to talk.  I swallow repeatedly trying to find any moisture in my mouth.  That’s painful, too.  I try again, “Mom?”  There, that sounds a little more like me.

             
My mother pats and strokes my face, saying, “Yes, darling.  I’m here.  Dad’s here.”  She moves to the side.  I can see my father in his wheelchair, smiling up at me, tentatively.

             
“Hi, Dad.”  It really is uncomfortable to speak.

             
My dad asks, “Davis? Son? How do you feel?”

             
I do a brief internal inventory and answer roughly, “I have a wicked headache and I’d kill for some water.”

             
“Is it okay?” My mother asks the man I don’t know, who I now realize from his white coat is a doctor.  I’m in a hospital.  How did I get here?  I was just…

             
The doctor gives my mother permission.  “Yes, just a small sip for now, though.  I need to examine him before he drinks or eats much more, Mrs. Brandon. 

My mother immediately leaves my
line of sight and I hear water being poured, as she replies, “Yes, yes, of course.”

Pictures fly in my mind.  Skatepark.  Bridge.  Biz.  As soon as her face appears, I bark out her name and sit up quickly in the bed.
  Hot pain shoots through the side of my head.  I reach and leaning forward slightly, grasp my skull with both hands.  The side of my head feels prickly.  My hair?  It’s gone, but only on one side.  Biz? Where is she? The last image I have of her is finally getting her away from that asshole, Randall and…the gun went off!  I sit up even faster and stare at my parents.  My head is killing me, but my physical pain is eclipsed by the pain of the thought that Biz is injured, or worse.

“Biz?”
I ask both my parents.  “Where is she?  Is she okay?  The gun…The gun went off.”

My mother’s back is to me.  She’s blocking my view of my dad.  I see her shoulders go up and then down quickly, in what appears to be a sigh.  Something must be wrong.  I’m so very confused when my mother turns back to me with the water in her hand, because her affect is breezy, upbeat.  A contrast to what her body language w
as just telling me.  She says in a high, strange voice, “Biz? Oh, she’s fine, son.  She injured her shoulder and broke a small bone.  She was treated and released a few days ago.”  She hands me the water and I take a sip.  The soreness in my throat calms a bit when the coolness of the liquid reaches it.

A few days ago.
Weird.  I vaguely remember hearing Biz’s voice and thinking we were sitting, holding hands on the sofa in our condo, during one of the episodes when the “blinds” opened.  I’m about to push the thought aside, when I realize – she was here!  I want to see her.  “Where is she?  Is she here?”  I ask.  I want to see her now.

My mother, with no emotion
, answers, “No, dear, she’s not.”

The doctor excuses himself by saying, “I’ll give you a few moments, Davis.
  I’ll be back soon.”  Then directing his attention to my mother, he continues, “I’ll be back and then I must do an exam, Mrs. Brandon.”

My mother waves the doctor of
f with a too cheerful, almost forced smile, and nod of agreement.  Something is definitely wrong.

I keep up my questioning.  “Is she in the cafeteria?”  I don’t understand.  This makes no sense.  Why isn’t my fiancée here with me in the hospital?  Where the hell is Biz?

“No.”  My mother sounds annoyed.

I hear myself getting louder and more agitated as I roar out, “Where is she, Mom?  WHERE IS BIZ?”

My father is next to me in his wheelchair trying to placate me and saying, “Now, now, Davis, you can’t get yourself worked up.”

“I didn’t want to have to do this yet, but…” 
My mother looks up at the ceiling, then reaches in her pocket, pulls out Biz’s engagement ring and hands it to me.  “She told me to give this to you.  She said to tell you the engagement is off.”

What?  I shake my aching head and look down at the ring. 
A vision of putting it on Biz’s finger comes into my mind and the words she said when I did.  She said she was never taking it off and if she did, something was wrong and I needed to find her. 

Something
is
wrong!  I knew it. 

I lift my head slowly and pin my mother in my sight, “Mom, you need to call her and get her here.”

“No, Davis. 
She
broke up with you.  She said she would talk to you when you were better.  I really don’t know why you want to see her after all she put you through.”  My mother appears to be purposely keeping us apart.  What is wrong?

I am furious, “You don’t know why I want to see her?  I’m going to marry her.  I LOVE HER.  Get me my cell phone! Now!”

My mother has turned white, her lips are pressed together tightly. “No!” she snaps.

I have nev
er spoken to my mother disrespectfully before, but I can’t help myself.  My fiancée is missing, I don’t know where she is and frankly, I feel like I’m going to fucking hurl, my head hurts so much.  “What have you done?” I ask, slowly articulating each word in a dark tone.

My mother speaks, quickly and firmly,
“She made an agreement not to see you.  We loaned her money to give to that maniac and the condition was, if you got hurt by it, she’d leave you.  You got hurt.  I made her live up to the condition.  She’s gone, Davis.”

“NOOOOOOO!”
I scream.  I think my head is going to explode all over this room.  I look at my father, pleading with my eyes.

“Meredith.”  He says, in his authoritative politician voice,
that I haven’t heard in a long, long time, “It’s time to STOP this.  I played along because, well, I didn’t want Davis to get hurt, either.  And frankly, I have been going along and trying to keep you from being unhappy since Cole died, but this…”  My dad waves his hand in the direction of my mother and me and then Biz’s ring.  “This is just wrong.”  My dad reaches up to touch my arm and says, “Davis, Biz is fine.  She was hurt, but she’s going to be okay.  I don’t know where she is.” 

“Then I’ll call her.”  I growl, as I glare at my mother. 

She cowers and whimpers a bit, pleading, “Davis, honey…” 

Frowning, m
y dad says, “Your mother made Biz agree not to see or talk to you until we called her.”

I
sit up even straighter.  I don’t care about the pain.  I am two seconds from ripping the IV out of my arm and launching myself out of this bed to find her.  “Mom, you need to go.  Now!  You need to go and find her.  Find Biz and bring her back.  I need to talk to her.  If you want things to be right between us, you will bring her back to me.”

The monitors I’
m hooked up to begin to beep loudly.  Not only does my head feel like it is going to explode, my heart, evidently, is joining along.

My mother looks at the monitor and then me.

“GO!” I bellow.  My doctor, along with a nurse and a couple of other people come rushing in.

“Mer
edith, go now.  Go to their condo.  If she’s not there, call her friend Jules…” my dad is shouting out directions as my mother grabs her purse and moves to exit.

My mother has a ver
y concerned look on her face when she turns to look back at me.  I could care less if she’s concerned right now.  The medical staff are trying to calm me and are checking my vital signs.  They are saying things like “high BP” and “tacky.”  I could care less about them, too.  I’m focused on getting Biz back, nothing else.  I yell out, “Charlie! She’ll be with Charlie!”  The experience I am having physically must be like what Biz describes when she tells me about how a panic attack feels.  It makes me empathize with her even more.

I turn to my Dad.  “Get my cell phone.  Find Charlie Boxwood’s number and text him.”

My dad asks, “What do I say?”

I have the perfect message
.  One I am sure Biz will figure out, if she’s with Charlie.  “Tell him, ‘The mouse devoured the hawk.’”