Henry knew the loud swishing noise was blood rushing to his head, muffling his hearing, but it hadn’t been there until she’d spoken. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I just did.”
“I told you that night—”
“I know what you told me that night.” She moved away from his touch. “That if there were any repercussions, you would provide.”
“And I will. We’ll get married. I will—”
“No,” she interrupted. “We won’t get married, because I won’t marry you.”
“You are pregnant with my child.” His insides nearly buckled at that. His child. He didn’t know anything about being a father. He’d have to learn, though. Fast.
“No, Henry, I’m pregnant with my child.” There were tears in her eyes, but she sounded cold, aloof. “A child that I will love and cherish the rest of my life.”
The air he breathed in felt as if it was grains of sand, pitting his throat, filling his lungs, his heart, burying anything he might have felt there. “It’s my child, too.”
“And what will you do with a child? Love them? Cherish them? Haul them around from town to town, assignment to assignment? Let them play with your gun and handcuffs? Let them sleep in your suitcase?”
“Hell no!”
She closed her eyes, took a deep breath. “You’re an FBI agent and—”
“I’ll—I’ll quit and—”
“No, you won’t, and I don’t want you to. That’s the only thing you’ve ever loved. The only thing you’ve ever cared about. That’s why you thought I was a coincidence—”
“I apologized for that! I was wrong!”
“I was wrong, too, Henry. About what I thought was happening when we met again. It wasn’t. I know that now. And I know you don’t want to marry me. I also know that my father would never let me marry you, and—”
“I’ll—”
“No!” She stopped his protest. “There’s more.”
Arms folded across his chest, holding back the anger building inside, it took every ounce of his will to stand there, listen to her.
“I have to marry James. He’s stable. Kind and generous. James will provide everything that both the baby and I need. He’ll make a wonderful father.”
He’d heard, but his mind was going in several directions at once. None of them nice thoughts. She was saying he wouldn’t make a wonderful father. That was what he heard. “That’s why you moved up the wedding date. So you can pawn my child off as his.”
“Yes. I have to, because if I don’t, and my father finds out I’m pregnant, he will send me to the convent and have the baby put up for adoption. I don’t want that, and I don’t believe you do, either.”
He let out a growl that included a curse. “Hell no!”
“But you know I’m right, don’t you? That I don’t have any other choice.”
He wanted to grab her, hug her, shake some sense into her, but he couldn’t, because she was right. He didn’t want his child raised in an orphanage, but he... Damn it. He didn’t know anything about being a father.
“Fine, marry him. With my blessing.” He turned, walked around the car. His legs shook, but his heart turned as hard and cold as he’d remembered it being as a child. If she were to ask, beg him to wait, to stay, he wouldn’t. He’d climb in the car and drive away.
Which was what he did, because she didn’t ask, or beg him to wait. To stay.
Henry couldn’t remember driving to the hotel; he didn’t know how long he’d been sitting there, either, staring out the window, not seeing anything. He thought he’d seen the sun set, and that it was now rising.
Not that it mattered. The pain inside him was so strong, so raw, it consumed him, his mind, his heart, his soul.
His thoughts had gone down alleyways that he’d totally forgotten, and ventured along lines that were nothing but wishful thinking. He’d never been in a place like this, and didn’t know what to do.
He’d picked up the phone several times, but this time, when the operator came on the line, he gave her a number.
Two rings later, the sound of the man’s voice nearly made his eyes sting.
“It’s Henry,” he said into the speaker.
“Henry! It’s good to hear your voice! How are you, son?” John asked.
He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Good. How are you? And Esther? How is she?”
“We are doing fine, just fine,” John replied. “How’s your case going? Nate told us about you being shanghaied. Nearly scared us to death.”
“I’m sure he made it sound worse than it was,” Henry answered. “The case is solved. I’ll be transporting the detainees to Washington soon.”
“Will you have time to stop and say hello? We’d love to see you.”
“I’ll try,” he answered, and for the first time, he really would try. He wanted to see them. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course, son, what is it?”
“It’s about my adoption.”
“I’ll answer anything I can.”
“Do you know what happened to my birth parents?” Although he’d convinced himself otherwise for years, that mattered to him right now. A lot.
“We always wondered if you knew, because you never asked,” John said. “The headmistress showed us the note that was tucked in your pocket the night your father left you there. It said that your name was Henry and that he was your father, and that your mother had died. It also said that he was very ill. He was afraid that you were going to get sick and didn’t want that. The note said that he would be back to get you as soon as he was better. There was no name, and when no one ever returned to claim you, it was assumed he’d died.”
Henry wasn’t sure what he’d expected to feel, but there wasn’t much there. Probably because Betty had already taken all he’d had to give.
“That’s all I know,” John said. “I’m sorry.”
“No, that’s what I wanted to know,” Henry said.
“The other thing I can tell you is that Esther had become quite frustrated with the headmistress. The woman had one excuse after the other as to why we shouldn’t adopt you, everything from you were too old and would never adjust, to that they thought you’d been stealing food, but couldn’t prove it.” John chuckled. “I’d never seen your mother so angry as when she told that woman if she said one more bad word against you, that she would be removed from her position. I of course agreed with Esther, wholeheartedly. It wasn’t until after we adopted you that we discovered why that woman hadn’t wanted you to leave.”
Confused, or still just numb, Henry asked, “Why?”
“Because you were practically running the place. You’d already completed all the courses they had and were teaching several classes of younger children. They all looked up to you, and you were so worried about them when you left there.”
He didn’t remember that. “I was?”
“Yes, you never admitted it—that wasn’t your way. It’s also why we enrolled you in junior college right away—you were at a loss with nothing to do.”
Faint memories were filtering into his mind, of teaching classes to the younger children.
“We continue to contribute to the orphanage every year,” John said. “In your name, for specific needs, new books and beds, blankets, and clothes. We remain very thankful that they provided for you until we’d adopted you.”
After a short pause, John asked, “Are you all right, son?”
“Yes,” Henry answered immediately. “I’m fine. I was just curious is all. Had some time on my hands and was just thinking.”
John laughed, “Well, if you ever find yourself with time on your hands, your mother and I would like to see you. It’s been a long time.”
“I’ll make it home, soon,” Henry answered.
“We do understand how busy you are,” John said. “But we still miss you.”
Henry’s insides clenched. “I miss you, too, and Esther, tell her I said hello.”
“I will,” John answered. “We love you, Henry.”
Henry hung up without responding, and instantly felt so guilty, he almost called John back, but didn’t.
Why? And why hadn’t he remembered teaching classes to the children? Just like he hadn’t remembered Mick Lawrence and Darrin Wolf until Betty asked? Because he’d convinced himself that there hadn’t been any good memories, until he’d completely believed it? Why? Because he didn’t want to be happy?
He hadn’t wanted to be, until he’d met Betty. She’d changed that. Changed him.
Betty couldn’t remember how long she’d lain on the ground after Henry had driven away that day, but she did remember how she’d collapsed. Slowly, like a burning building, one wall and then the other, destroying anything that had ever been inside, and how the shards of her broken heart had stabbed her so deeply, she’d thought she might die right there.
She hadn’t died and when she’d managed to lift her head, Jane had been sitting next to her.
“I told him,” Betty had whispered.
“I saw him drive away,” Jane had answered.
“He hates me.”
Jane had leaned down and kissed her forehead. “I don’t.”
Then Jane had helped her to her feet and walked her home, where she’d had to start living with her decision. For the rest of her life.
Today was the next step. She was at the church, wearing the long white dress that she’d agreed to wear, to please her mother. It wasn’t fair of her to take her misery out on others.
Her sisters were wearing new dresses, too, ones they had picked out. Jane’s was peach colored and Patsy’s was yellow. They both looked so nice, so pretty.
“You look beautiful,” Patsy said. “So beautiful.”
“Yes, she does.” Jane waved a hand over her face. “So beautiful I’m going to cry.”
“Don’t you dare,” Patsy said, “because then I will, too, and we’ll both have mascara running down our cheeks.”
Betty had been fighting tears all day, but she’d grown used to that over the past weeks, and once again managed to blink them away without affecting her mascara. She was still numb inside, merely going through the motions of living as one goes through the motions of washing dishes, a mere repetitiveness of dunk, wash, dunk, rinse, put aside to dry. “You both know I’m the ugly duckling,” Betty said, “and you are the swans.” They were in her eyes, they always had been, from cute little sisters, to beautiful young women. She loved them dearly.
“Horsefeathers,” Jane said. “Swans are taller than ducks, and you are the tallest.”
“Tall?” Betty laughed. It felt good to pretend all was normal. That they could joke with each other. “The three of us are short, shorter, and shortest.” Her breath snagged in her lungs as she looked at Patsy and Jane, wondering if her children would love each other this much. Or if she would only have the one child. Henry’s child.
No. She couldn’t do that. Not now. Not here. This was her child.
“Girls,” Mother said, stepping into the little side room of the church. “It’s time.”
Betty suddenly felt as if she was freezing, from the inside. So cold even her teeth were chattering. She pressed four fingers to her mouth, but couldn’t make the chattering stop.
“Jane, you walk in first, and walk slowly,” Mother said. “Patsy, you’ll follow, and then you, Betty. Your father is waiting to walk you down the aisle.” Mother’s eyes lit up even brighter. “Smile, dear. There are a lot of people here.”
Before Betty attempted to pull up a smile, Jane reached up and flipped the netted veil over her face.
“She is smiling, Mother,” Jane said.
Betty wasn’t. She might never smile again, but at least the chattering had stopped. She drew in a deep breath, and silently thanked Jane for pulling the veil over her face. No one would notice that she wasn’t smiling. That she looked like she was walking to the gallows instead of to the altar to be united in marriage.
She had to become united in marriage because in eight months, she would be having a baby. Her sisters kept reminding her of what a joyous occasion that would be. What wonderful aunties they would make. They would, and it would be a very joyous occasion the first time she held her baby in her arms. That was the thought that kept her going every day.
Her mother left the room, leaving the door open, and Jane stood there, watching until it was time for her to exit.
By the time it was Betty’s turn to leave the room, she was trembling so hard she could barely move. She hooked her arm through her father’s and started walking. She had to go through with this. That was all there was to it.
There were people sitting in the pews. That had been Patsy’s doing, and Betty did appreciate her sister’s support. Both Jane’s and Patsy’s support in this whole farce.
That was what it was. A farce.
The wedding.
Her.
All of it.
Her insides sank deeper and deeper with each step she took toward the altar, where the big cross hung overhead. A shiver coursed down her spine.
Thou shalt not bear false witness.
Her footsteps stumbled. Father grasped her arm, kept her moving forward.
Toward the cross. Toward James.
She had to lie. For her baby. The tiny life growing inside her. The tiny boy or girl who would never know their father.
Henry.
That was the worst farce of all. She’d hurt him so badly. Had seen it on his face, in his eyes. A sob got caught in the back of her throat. Choking her.
She got it out, sucked in air.
She glanced at Jane.
At Patsy.
What had she been thinking?
This wasn’t setting a good example.
This was wrong.
So wrong.
What she’d done to Henry was wrong.
So very, very wrong.
Her father stopped. James took her hand, held it as she took her final steps up to the altar. Chills raced over her, and she closed her eyes, wishing at that moment that it was Henry who had taken her hand.
He wasn’t holding her hand. James was. It was wrong what she was doing to him, too. All this time, she’d thought about him as a means to an end. An imaginary person who, in an odd sense, wasn’t even real. But he was real. He was a good person, too. He’d thanked her about standing up to her father because of the building codes. He hadn’t dared to do that. He wouldn’t dare not marry her, either. That wasn’t fair. He truly didn’t deserve to be deceived.
She couldn’t do that to him.
She couldn’t do this.
This wasn’t who she was. This was not her.
It was not.
And if it was, it was not who she wanted to be. Who she would be.
A warmth washed away the chills. The same one that used to appear whenever Henry was near. She pulled her hand free from James. It may be her imagination, but she’d felt a flutter in her stomach, and pressed her hand against it.
The baby didn’t want her to do this, either.
Tears filled her eyes, but they weren’t sad ones. They were tears of hope. Of finding her true self. She had her sisters. She had her baby. She had a life. Her life. Broken rules or not, it was her life. One that she had control over. She just had to take that control. She’d thought she had been, in some ways, but not enough.
“I object,” she blurted out.
The priest frowned and shook his head.
She squared her shoulders, nodded, and louder, repeated, “I object.”
“Betty?” James asked.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t do this,” she told him. “Not to you, and you shouldn’t have to do it, either.” Glancing the other way, toward her sisters, she repeated, “I can’t do this.” Looking at the priest, she repeated once more, “I object.”
The priest cleared his throat, and then whispered, “You can’t object. You’re the bride.”
“Then I object,” Jane said.
“You can’t object, either,” the priest said.
“I can! I object!”
Betty’s heart nearly leaped out of her chest as she spun around, saw the man who had shouted. “Henry,” she gasped, and blinked to make sure she wasn’t seeing things.
“Who are you?” Father asked, leaping to his feet.
She wasn’t seeing things. Well, she was, but it was real, and a wonderful sight.
Dressed in a black suit and tie, with a white shirt, Henry walked up the aisle toward her. He stopped next to Father and held out his hand.
Stunned, Father looked around, and somewhat sheepish, shook Henry’s hand.
“I’m Henry Randall, Mr. Dryer.” He then nodded at Mother. “Mrs. Dryer.”
Mother waggled her fingers at him, and whispered to Father, “It’s the man whose house she cleaned.”
Betty couldn’t contain her mirth and let out a giggle.
“Who?” Father asked.
“Henry Randall,” he said, walking the rest of the way to her. “The man who is going to marry your daughter.” He reached out, took her hand. “This one.”
Father nodded, then shook his head. “Now, see here, Betty’s already marrying someone. James.”
Henry didn’t look back at Father; his eyes never left hers. Those unique blue eyes that she hoped their baby would have.
“I was right,” he said. “You were more than a coincidence. You were the person who would teach me how to love.”
Tears of pure joy flowed from her eyes at his statement.
“Will you marry me, Betty?”
She wanted to shout yes, but had gone through so much to convince him that wasn’t possible, she couldn’t, could she? Just like that? Forget all her worrying? All her reasons? All she’d concluded? Actually, right now, she couldn’t even remember what her reasons were. Not a single reason why she couldn’t marry him formed in her mind.
“Yes, she will marry you, Henry.”
He grinned, but his eyes never left hers as he said, “Thank you, Jane, but I need to hear it from Betty. I tried to stay away, to give you what you wanted, but I couldn’t, because I know this is not what you wanted. Is it?”
“No, this is not what I want,” she whispered. “I want to say yes, but I don’t want to ruin your life.” There. She had remembered.
“Ruin my life?” He laughed. “You’ll make my life perfect. Complete.” He took ahold of her other hand. “I resigned from the FBI.”
Her heart nearly stopped. “No. Henry, you can’t.”
“I already did. I love you more than I love the FBI. I love you more than my one-suitcase life. I love you, Betty, and I don’t want to spend the rest of my life without you.”
“I don’t want to spend the rest of my life without you, either,” she admitted.
“What’s going on here?” Father barked. “What are you two whispering about? You can’t marry her. You can’t object!”
“I can!” someone else shouted.
Betty shifted, to look around Henry, at a man walking up the aisle. A stranger. “Who is that?” she asked.
Henry twisted, glanced over his shoulder. “Uncle Nate?”
“Hello, Henry,” the man said.
“Who are you?” Father’s shout nearly rattled the windows.
Taller than Father, but just as gray, the man stopped next to the pew and held out his hand. “Nathan Randall, and you are?”
“William Dryer. Owner of Hollywoodland Properties.”
The man glanced at her and Henry, and then said to Father, “And father of the bride I presume.”
“Yes, I am.” Frowning, Father asked again, “Who are you?”
“Nathan Randall, United States Attorney General.” With a grin toward Henry, he added, “And Henry’s uncle.”
Betty was nearly as stunned as her father. While Father shouted the question, she whispered the same question to Henry. “The attorney general?”
“Yes,” Henry said. “The attorney general.”
Henry turned back to Betty. He’d made it as far as the California border, on the train, transporting Elkin and Burrows, when he knew he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t let Betty marry someone else. Anyone else. He also couldn’t let another man raise his child. Becoming a father scared him; he didn’t know anything about it, but he’d learn. Just like he’d learned to love. He’d let the demons put inside him by his childhood rule his life, and refused to let them keep him from having a future.
He’d thought about all that Betty had said, too, long and hard. Especially when she’d said that his job was the only thing he’d ever loved. She’d been right. It had been because he didn’t have to worry about it loving him in return.
Then he’d remembered the last words his father had said to him on the phone. We love you, Henry. They’d said that to him hundreds of times, but that morning, on the phone, he’d felt it. Truly felt it.
He felt that for Betty, too, so he’d left the other two agents in charge of the prisoners, gotten off the train at the next stop, called LeRoy, and then bought a ticket back to Los Angeles. He’d arrived in town less than an hour ago and had feared he might already be too late. Thankfully, he hadn’t been.
Henry cleared his throat, then shifted, leaned toward his uncle, and whispered, “What are you doing here?”
“What am I doing here?” Nate said loud enough people outside the church could hear.
Henry sucked in air. Nate could be as boisterous as William Dryer was ornery.
“When I get a phone call that the best field agent the Bureau has ever had suddenly submitted his resignation,” Nate said, overly loud, “I hop on an airplane to find out why.”
“I left you a message,” Henry said. He had called his uncle, while waiting for his return train, but hadn’t gotten ahold of him and left a message with Nate’s secretary that he’d resigned his position because he was going back to Los Angeles to get married.
“An airplane?” William asked.
“Yes,” Nate replied, sounding somewhat offended, as he stepped closer. The wrinkles around his eyes deepened as he smiled at Betty. “I now see the reason.” He slapped Henry’s shoulder. “I’m not only proud of you, Henry, I’m happy for you. So are your parents.”
Henry turned toward the back of the church. He hadn’t seen them in years, but John Randall was as tall and thin as ever, and Esther was as short and round as ever. They waved at him from the back of the church.
“Are those your parents?” Betty whispered.
“Yes,” Henry replied, still not quite believing that his uncle and his parents flew all the way out here because of him. It did make him smile, though, and filled him with happiness.
“They must love you very much,” Betty whispered. She then let out a little groan. “Oh, dear, what are they going to think of me? Almost marrying someone else?”
She looked so beautiful in her long white dress, but she was beautiful no matter what she wore, and he loved her, so very much. “I don’t care what anyone in this room thinks, except for you.” He squeezed her hands. “You still haven’t answered me. Will you marry me? We’ll make this work. I swear to you, we’ll make this work.”
“Yes, we will make this work,” she said. “And yes, I will marry you.”
He wanted to kiss her, but the veil was in the way, and they were in the middle of a church full of people.
“Was that a yes?” Jane asked.
“Yes,” both he and Betty answered at once, laughing.
“Bee’s knees!” Jane shouted. “Get out of the way, James—make room for the real groom.”
“H-he can’t marry her,” James said.
A hush fell over the room. It was the first time James had spoken.
“Why can’t I?” Henry asked, fully prepared to go head to head with James Bauer.
James fiddled with the lapels of his suitcoat. “B-because you don’t have a marriage license, and there’s a five-day waiting period in California.”
“He’s right,” Betty whispered.
Henry’s heart sank at the deflation on her face, in her voice.
“Father,” Uncle Nate addressed the priest. “Do you have the marriage license for these two, who were going to get married?”
“Yes, sir, I do.”
“Let me see it, please.”
The priest picked a sheet of paper off a table, carried it down the two steps and stepped around him and Betty to hand it to Nate.
Upon reading the license, Nate pulled a fountain pen out of his pocket and then used Henry’s back as a table in order to alter the license right there in front of everyone.
“Is—is that legal?” James asked.
Nate handed the paper back to the priest before he said to James, “You find a judge who won’t honor that, you tell him to call me.”
Nate made the comment with humor in his voice, but Henry knew the truth in Nate’s words. As much as he didn’t like James, Henry felt a flash of empathy for the man right now. After all, he was losing Betty. Then again, Bauer hadn’t deserved her in the first place.
“You ready?” he asked her.
She nodded, then shook her head. “One second.” She stepped back up next to James, spoke quietly to him, and then lifted her veil, kissed his cheek as he nodded, then turned, and left the church. She returned to his side then. “Yes.” Smiling brightly, she nodded. “I’m ready.”
“Do you mind if I go invite my parents to sit up front?” he asked. They had given him more than he’d realized over the years. Their presence proved that.
“May I join you?” she asked.
“I’d like that.”
“Nate.” Henry gestured to the back of the room. “Give us a minute.”
Nate nodded, but it was Jane who spoke.
“Take your time,” she said. “We have some rearranging to do.”
He and Betty smiled at each other as they started down the aisle and Jane continued with her rearranging, which included inviting Lane and Nate to stand up as best man and groomsman.
“She has that all under control,” he said.
“That’s my sister,” Betty said.
Esther and John walked forward, meeting them in the aisle, with Esther giving him a motherly hug and kiss on the cheek as she always did whenever he saw her.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” Henry said.
“We hope you don’t mind,” John said. “When Esther heard you were getting married, well, she really wanted to be here.” He nodded. “So did I. We’re proud of you, son. Proud to be your parents.”
“I’m proud to be your son,” he admitted, truthfully, heartfully, and then introduced Betty. “This is Betty, my bride-to-be. Betty, this is Esther and John Randall. My parents.”
Betty lifted up her veil. “I’m sure this all seems a bit unorthodox—I’ll gladly explain—”
“Oh, darling, there is nothing to explain,” Esther said, kissing Betty’s cheek. “Henry stole your heart. He stole mine the first day I met him.”
Betty looked at him, smiling. “That’s exactly what happened to me.”
“Well, let’s get you two married,” John said. “We can talk later.” He winked at Esther. “We’ve always wanted to see California, so we’ll be here for several days.”
“That’s wonderful,” Betty said.
“Yes, it is,” Henry said. His life was wonderful.
His parents walked back up the aisle behind him and Betty and took front-row seats. Henry’s heart had never felt so large, so full, as he took his spot next to her, ready to start the ceremony that would bond him and Betty together, forever.
“Hold on!”