The Aliens Started Dancing

 

IT SEEMED TO TAKE TWELVE days to reach Saturday. Beckett had kept himself busy taking care of Stacy and dropping her off at the studio and fixing food for her. While she was at work, he’d begun writing down all of his thoughts about Yolanda and what she’d done to him. The things he’d lost. The things he’d gained.

He’d lost his parents — but that was because he had been afraid to let them see him or that he’d hurt them. It would still be possible to have a relationship with him. If they wanted one.

No matter how many things he’d lost, he’d gained Stacy, and that outweighed everything else.

So by the end of the week, he was finally ready to forgive Yolanda. Tomorrow they would meet in the council offices — the same place he’d married Stacy — for a forgiveness ceremony.

He realized how heavy the weight of his anger had been, and he was feeling lighter already.

At two o’clock, Stacy rode with him to the council offices. She was subdued. “Are you going to be okay?” she asked.

“I think I am.” He reached over and took her hand. “Thank you for caring enough about me to plan that intervention. I was afraid maybe you wanted them to kick me out of the house for you.”

“Wow. You don’t think nearly as highly of yourself as I do.”

“A fact for which I am very grateful.”

“Are you nervous?”

“Yes. But I’m also ready to let go of my anger.”

“Thank you for being open to the intervention.”

Instead of parking behind the council office building, he pulled into the Town Square parking lot. “I am quite nervous.”

Stacy smiled at him. “You’re going to do great.”

“Let’s go see how close your prediction is to the real event.”

Inside, Jack Murphy was already there waiting for him. He nodded at Beckett and motioned toward an office.

Inside, Yolanda sat at a conference table. Her head was bowed and she had the same wrapped gift on the table before her.

As they entered, she lifted her face and he saw a tortured woman. She closed her eyes for a moment and, when she reopened them, there were tears there. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Beckett used the powerful words Stacy had used on him. “I forgive you.”

Yolanda broke down in sobs, resting her head on her hands on the table.

And, amazed, Beckett felt the anger leave his soul. He actually felt sorry for Yolanda.

He sat across from her, and Stacy sat by his side. He reached out and took one of Yolanda’s hands, and the woman squeezed his hand fiercely.

Jack Murphy — the attorney who’d prepared the Writ of Forgiveness required by the Supernatural Oversight Council — laid the paper down before Beckett and gave him a knife to cut his thumb. This contract had to be signed in blood.

He released Yolanda’s hand, sliced his finger, and signed his name. As he finished, a sparkle of magic rose.

Yolanda raised her head, a look of wonder on her face. “You really have forgiven me?”

Beckett looked at her solemnly and nodded. “Yes, I really have.”

And, to his surprise, he realized that he had, indeed, forgiven her.

His soul felt so much lighter, he could have floated out of the building.

 

 

Beckett had plans of his own to surprise Stacy with — and the same friends who’d gone in on the intervention were part of his plan.

He had to do something to take their relationship to the next level. To get them past all the weirdness — the bite, her running away, Yolanda. Everything.

So as they left the Council offices, he led Stacy out the front door and across Moonchuckle Way and into the green park of Town Square.

Moonchuckle Bay Studios was filming a monster movie today in the park, and tourists were lining up to get in as extras. Once, several years ago, a tourist had actually become a big movie star, by starting that way.

Before the ceremony, he’d spoken to the group about his plans. The movie filming had been Bianca Rossi Gladwell’s idea when Beckett had approached her. She’d been delighted to donate fifteen minutes of staff costs to let them participate in the flash mob he had planned.

As they reached the gazebo in the center of the square, the large camera swung around and a group of green alien types started singing, “Just the Way You Are.”

Stacy stood and watched them, and laughed. “That’s weird.”

The aliens started dancing and soon circled them. Behind them, a group of friends twirled and danced toward them.

“What is this?” Stacy asked, looking at him.

He looked down at her. “I thought we could use some positive things going on.”

More and more people joined in, singing along and dancing — lots of tourists joined in, too. Everyone was getting into the spirit of the song.

When the song ended, and aliens and friends and strangers surrounded them, he pulled out a ring box and dropped to one knee. “Stacy, will you stay married to me? Will you keep me without a house and without a million dollars? Just me, Beckett Robertson?”

She pulled him to his feet and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Yes.”

The crowd cheered and started to move away.

She whispered in his ear, “I don’t need the house and million dollars. I already have them.”

He chuckled. “Yes, you do.”

“You know what I do need?”

“What?” he whispered back.

“I’d like to get back to consummating. Without the bite.”

“I’d like that, too. How soon do you suppose we can get out of this crowd and get back home?”

He pulled her close to him and kissed her lips, and everything was right in his world.