Second Chance Love (30 page)

Chapter Fifty-Three

The wheels of justice might grind slowly, but they do grind. It had been ten days since Todd Billings had met with the DA, and Steve Larson was still behind bars. Only in TV and movies did prisoners walk out the door an hour after the presentation of evidence. Still, Steve was supposed to be released that afternoon, and Elizabeth was determined to be there when it happened. Steve’s Taurus was still in the impound lot, so Gail had volunteered a lift.

Snug in the passenger seat of Gail’s Volvo, Elizabeth thumbed her phone awake for what felt like the hundredth time in the last hour. The faceplate read 2:45 PM. The wind outside sent Starbucks cups, paper napkins and leaves swirling in circles. The minutes crawled by. Even Gail wasn’t talking; she hummed along with the radio's
a cappella
version of
Silent Night
.

The music faded to static. Undaunted, Gail continued humming the melody.

Elizabeth and Steve had originally planned their wedding for 3:00 PM on Christmas Eve.
When the groom gets framed for assault and larceny, it plays hell with wedding planning
, thought Elizabeth. On her visit to Steve the day before, they had decided to postpone the wedding until life got back to normal. Valentine’s Day was a possibility.

I would rather have gotten married on Christmas Eve, since it's meant so much to us. But if I just get Steve walking out those doors, I declare myself officially gifted in full for Christmas, and promise not to ask for anything else
.

The phone vibrated in her hand. It startled her, in particular when she realized how tightly she had been clamping it. Max’s voice said, “Elizabeth, you have a call from Steve.”

Steve. Steve’s calling. That means he has Suzi and that means…

The jail's double door opened, and Steve and Todd came out. The wind hit them immediately, accompanied by sideways rain. Todd put up an umbrella, but failed to hold onto it securely. One step out of the building, the wind inverted it skyward. Todd looked at the useless bumbershoot in resignation. Steve was scanning the parking lot with his phone to his ear.

Elizabeth threw open the car door and launched herself into the storm. She sprinted across the parking lot, up the stairs, and leapt into Steve’s arms. After years of hoisting boxes and stacks of books, when it mattered, Elizabeth had a grip like steel cable. “I am never going to let you out of my sight,” she whispered, voice breaking.

“That’s great, but it will be a little awkward when I have to go to the bathroom.”

Elizabeth started to laugh, but it came out as a happy sob. She looked into his face; it had thinned a little, causing her a pang of overwhelming pity. She shook her head at him, kissed him, then took a step back to examine him. “Didn’t they feed you in there?”

“Oh, but they did. Mashed potatoes out of a box, and something they called hamburger that was a color not found in nature, and…well, let's not send Suzi and Max to look for that great Michelin star cookbook,
Recipes from the Big House
. I might want to stop at Maybelle’s, though.”

“Maybelle’s will be closed up tight. Look around—the power is down in the whole city. We’ll have to fend for ourselves.”

“When that means just you and me, it sounds just fine.”

“First we have to let Gail take us to the impound lot. The Taurus is still there.”

“I can give you a lift.” Steve and Elizabeth had forgotten Todd was even there.

“Thank you, but we’ve already taken up enough of your Christmas Eve," said Steve. And thank you for everything you did to get me out of there.”

“Wait until after you get my bill before you thank me.” With a wave, Todd walked to the trash can, deposited his ruined umbrella, and ran to his car.

“All right then, let’s go tell Gail how much we appreciate her coming out in this weather just to pick me up.”

As they reached Gail's car, a mighty gust of wind merged with their momentum to slam them into the side of the Volvo. They opened the door, Steve holding it with both hands lest the wind rip it free, and jumped into the warm safety of the back seat. The entire car rocked back and forth.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, protect us sinners,” Gail said, sincerely.

Steve leaned forward and laid his hand on Gail’s shoulder. “Thank you so much for coming to rescue me. I can’t imagine us trying to catch a bus in this storm.”

Gail beamed into the rear-view mirror. “Do you really think I was going to let you two wander around in this hurricane like Moses wandering through the desert? What kind of a best friend would I be if I did that? Now, I was watching a Christmas movie on Lifetime last night, and there was a woman who was supposed to be the best friend, but when the chips were really down and they needed her, well, she was nowhere to be found…”

Steve and Elizabeth relaxed in the back seat, lulled by the engine's hum, the wind's buffets, and Gail’s monologue. They laid their heads together, exhausted and completely at peace once again. Within two minutes, they were both asleep. Gail did not notice, and shared with them the entire plot of last night's movie.

Chapter Fifty-Four

Steve opened his eyes as the Volvo came to a stop. “Oh, sorry, I must have dozed off. Didn’t sleep very well in there. Say,” he said, unbuckling his seatbelt and peering out the window, “why did you bring us here?”

"The impound lot was closed up," said Gail. "You aren't getting your car back until after Christmas, I don't think."

Lizzie stretched, a long feline movement Steve found fascinating. “Where are we? Is this your mother’s house?”

Gail said nothing, though she wore the widest grin that her face could accommodate. They were sitting in the circular drive in front of his mother’s house, if one could call something so grand by such a plain name. Margaret Bishop lived, when not under medical care, in a 6,500-square-foot Colonial home with tall white pillars guarding the front entrance. It was nearly dark outside, but hundreds of tiny lights shone from the house's windows.

“There are a couple of dozen people in there," said Gail. "They’ve been planning this for the last week. Now you have a choice to make. We can have a nice get-out-of-jail-free party for Steve, and that will be fine. Or—" she paused and looked back and forth between them—"you can go in there and get married. I’m ready to cry right now just thinking about it, but I don’t want to smudge my mascara.”

“What?” Steve queried, his mind still sleep-slow.

“What? How?” Elizabeth wondered.

“You two already had your license. You had your rings. Everyone just pitched in to help with everything else. We don’t want to hurry you, though. If you need to step back and take a deep breath and do this after the first of the year…”

Steve looked at Elizabeth. Her eyes shone with tears. “It’s up to you, Honey, I know every little girl has her dream wedding, and this probably isn’t it.”

“My only dream has been that you are the man standing next to me.”

God. She does want it this way. She just doesn't want to tell me so outright
.

“Then let's make it come true while everything's all set up.” He smiled and squeezed her hand. Her tears spilled over, which started Gail’s, dooming her mascara.

Bracing against the wind gusts, Gail led them around to the back door and inside. Holding onto Elizabeth's arm, she handed Steve a flashlight. "Go up to your old bedroom," she said, towing Elizabeth away.

In his childhood bedroom, long since converted to a guest room, Steve found a full black tuxedo laid out. It was the one that always hung in his closet, pressed and ready for any occasion. A pair of polished black dress shoes sat on the floor, with a clean pair of dress socks tucked inside. On the dresser sat a pair of his father’s monogrammed LI cufflinks.

Steve sat down on the guest bed, a bit overwhelmed.
This morning, there was every chance I might be spending tonight in a communal jail cell eating bad food and watching network television. Now I'm looking at the walls where I once plastered posters of Ken Griffey Jr., Gary Payton, and Nirvana. I am about to put on a tuxedo, go downstairs, and marry the love of my life. This is surreal
.

Grandma always said, never go faster than your Guardian Angel can fly, and I guess I finally slowed down long enough that they were able to catch up.

He stood up, stripped down, and stepped into the guest bathroom's shower. Ten minutes later, he emerged clean-shaven, clear-headed, jumpy-stomached, and smiling with pure joy.

I’m going to marry Lizzie. Right now.

Steve put on the tux, pleased that it needed some taking-in around the middle, and went downstairs.

Gladys had converted Margaret's office into a bridal dressing room, lit by an array of candles. Gail had brought out the same beautiful gown Elizabeth had worn to the
Autumn Wonderland
, then helped her into it. “I swear,” Gail said, brushing the bride's hair. “Forty years old and you look like a woman of twenty-five. Especially tonight. You are glowing.”

“It’s all happened so fast.”

“Fast? You fell in love with a boy twenty-five years ago, now he’s finally making you an honest woman. I'd hate to see your idea of slow courting." Gail handed her an elegant pair of gold earrings, then plucked a small blue ribbon off the table. “Here, put these on while I make you a ribbon bracelet. Then you'll be covered: something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue.”

When it was all done, Gail stepped back and looked at Elizabeth in the flickering glow of the candles. “Elizabeth Coleman, I believe you are the loveliest bride I have ever seen.”

Chapter Fifty-Five

With many available hands, the Grand Hall had been transformed in just a few hours. Gladys had not needed to rent chairs from a party rental store; the home had over a hundred white folding chairs in storage, all padded. Poinsettias decorated the room in white, red, and pink. Hundreds of flickering candles cast a spray of shadows and light around the room, giving the impression of a fairyland. Gladys had arranged seating for eighty, with an aisle up the middle, and every seat was full.

Margaret and Gordon sat up front, at right. Margaret had requested a day pass from the rehab center. When her physician had balked, Margaret had told him it was either that, or he could post a guard at her window. To the Bishops' right sat Winston Franklin, the longtime doorman from Steve’s condo building, with his wife.

Across the aisle from them sat Mr. Bartleby, the owner of
The Prints and the Pauper
, with Gail and two of the young boys Elizabeth tutored in reading. Behind the Bishops sat Steve’s former right-hand man Jim Scott and his wife Helen, along with Betty Spencer and her husband, Bill. Most of the other seats were filled by former Larson Industries employees and their families, all of whom had postponed their own Christmas Eve celebrations for the occasion. Betty had put out the word, and in addition to simple gratitude for the severance package—unheard of in an era in which most employers treated employees with less dignity than paper towels—very few wanted to lose contact with Steve and whatever his next enterprise might be.

At the very front of the hall stood a white alcove, built that very day by Bayani Alidon. Bayani had arrived on time, three weeks prior, with his family soon following. His wife Chona was in the kitchen with Maybelle. The reception dinner would therefore be an alluring combination of American Southern and Pinoy staples like pancit, lumpia, and adobo. Now Bayani sat in the third row with his daughter Tala and son Danilo, a proud papa resplendent in the white Filipino wedding shirt called a
barong tagalog
. Betty had assigned him to help Gladys, and when Chona had arrived with the kids, she had assigned herself to the kitchen.

Steve stood out of sight near the back of the hall. When he had awoken on this same day one year before, his only companion had been a ghost in a machine: an artificial intelligence named Suzi. His life had been one of polite insulation from intrusion or unpredictability. One year on, he waited just outside an entire roomful of people, all ultimately connected by the love he shared with Elizabeth, all present for the sake of friendship.

I was what most people considered rich, and I lived in abject emotional poverty. I lived in the emotional equivalent of a mud hut. Now I am what many would call poor, and I live in an emotional mansion.

Wouldn't it have been nicer if I could have kept the physical wealth and just expanded the emotional wing?

That, Steve Larson, is the mentality that made it impossible for you to have that emotional wing. Until you needed other people, you couldn't even break ground on it
.

“What are you doing, lurking around in the shadows back here?”

Steve turned and found himself staring into Maybelle's broad smile.

“I think I’m about to get married.”

“About damn time. A good woman like Elizabeth will knock those last few rough edges off you.”

“I need it, I know." Then it hit him. "Maybelle, I know this is going to sound strange, but I don’t have a best man.”

"Even if you hadn't been in the pokey, you would have forgotten unless someone had reminded you," she said. "Just proves, as if we needed it, that you're all male."

He gave her a wry chuckle. “I was wondering if you would stand up with me and do me the honor.”

Maybelle's eyes laughed. “Hon, I know you’re a little nearsighted, but I'm lacking some of the basics in that department.”

"Not the ones that matter," he said. “Since you've been involved in planning this, you know this isn’t the most conventional wedding. The groom spent last night in jail. There’s no electricity. If it weren't for gas ovens, there wouldn't be any food. Three hours ago, we didn’t know we were getting married. Now we’re about to party. I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have up there with me.”

“If it’s what you want, I am proud to stand up for you. Give me just two minutes, though, while I get the roast out of the oven before it dries out. Chona can handle the rest of it. That woman is a wonder.”

"I learned that watching her work over an open fire on a beach in the Philippines. I bet she can really go to town with a full pantry. I'll be waiting.”

Two minutes later Maybelle returned, without the apron and otherwise spruced up. Steve could not have guessed what all Maybelle had done, just that she looked sharp. He handed her Elizabeth’s ring.

“All right, you’ve waited twenty years. I think that’s long enough. Let’s do this. You start down the aisle when I'm in place up front. Don't trip.”

With that, Maybelle walked down the aisle.

Everyone stood. At the front, she took two steps to the right. When Steve joined her, everyone turned toward the aisle.

Gail had slipped away to enter as Elizabeth’s Maid of Honor. Now she walked down the aisle, turned left, took two steps and waited. Aside from the wind howling outside, and an occasional shutter banging, all was silent.

Elizabeth walked into this silence and took their breath away.

Her deep red gown contrasted against her fair skin and honey hair, which hung about her neck in soft, elegant curls. A few gasps broke the silence, then a sniffle. Before long, the Grand Hall sounded like a doctor's waiting room at the height of a cold epidemic.

There were no tears in Elizabeth’s eyes. She had waited too long to experience this through the blur of tears. She joined Steve, Gail and Maybelle in front of the alcove and waited.

A small woman stepped from behind the alcove. She had long dark hair and wore a colorful, flowing robe. “Welcome," she said, in a voice that carried naturally to the back row. "Please be seated.”

Steve looked a question at Elizabeth:
who is this?

The woman held her arms out, encompassing the room. “Again, welcome. I am Cornelia Comstock, and I feel so blessed to be present for this moment. Is there anyone present who can’t feel the portents? The wind blows, and the trappings of our civilized life are blown away by the power and majesty of the world. This is a unique day, unlike any other, and I am so fortunate to share it with all of you, and especially you, Elizabeth and Steve.

"The most powerful force in the universe is love, and it is love that I feel in this room today. Steve, Elizabeth, your love is so powerful that it moved the world to bring the two of you together again. Through laughter and tragedy, hope and sorrow, your love has grown stronger and your lives more entwined. I am licensed by the state to marry you, but only the two of you, in the presence of so many loving friends and family, can truly make the commitment to bring your souls together. Do you have anything you would like to share with each other? Steve?”

Steve looked left and right. He had originally intended to write vows and promises, but had not found his muse while watching Maury Povich in the company of accused felons. He turned to Elizabeth and opened his heart.

“Elizabeth, I will never forget the day you laughed at me in the hall between classes in eighth grade. I got laughed at in the hall a lot, but when you did it, I knew it was because you got my jokes. I fell in love with you, just a little, right then. If I’d had any guts, I would have told you. I’ve made a lot of bad decisions in my life. I invested in IBM and passed on Microsoft…”

Knowing chuckles emanated from several parts of the audience.

“…I invested my entire fortune in an island resort in the Philippines during hurricane season…”

More nods and sympathetic “tsk, tsks,” around the room.

“…but the only decision I regret is the night I decided to leave you before telling you I love you. The moment I saw you again, I knew our paths would eventually lead us right here. I love you, Lizzie, with all my heart and soul.”

Maybelle stepped forward and handed him the ring. He slipped it on Elizabeth's finger and whispered, “I love you so, Lizzie.”

Cornelia beamed. “Elizabeth?”

Elizabeth had been so caught up in Steve's words that the prompt startled her a bit. “Oh! Yes.” She held out her hands and took Steve’s in hers. Everything but him faded away.

Her voice was quiet enough that the back rows had to strain their ears. “I told myself I was fine," she began. "That life was fine.” Now, tears rolled down her cheeks. “I wasn’t. Until I saw you again, I didn’t know that it was you that I was missing all my life. Then I knew. Now I will never let you go.”

Gail handed her a gold band matching the one already on her left ring finger. Elizabeth touched Steve’s face with her left hand, then slipped the ring on his finger. Then, without waiting for instructions, she wrapped her arms around Steve’s neck and kissed him. Then again, then once more.

Cornelia fanned herself with her notes. “And that, folks, is how you marry someone. It is my pleasure to present to you Mr. and Mrs. Steve and Elizabeth Larson.”