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
