Wife-in-Law Page 12

  All cried out, Kat blinked her swollen eyes and sagged back into the chair, focusing unseeing on the middle distance. “You’re right,” she whispered, her words flat. “Think about Zach getting well.”

  Then her features contorted afresh, and the terror came back into her voice. “But what if he dies? I’ll go crazy if he dies. I can’t live without him.”

  “You can,” I said sternly. “For Sada’s sake, you can. But you’re not going to have to.” I sent God a bone-deep plea for mercy and healing. “Zach’s going to live,” I said with a conviction spawned by sheer force of will. “Believe it. I don’t know how I know, but I know it,” I lied.

  Kat’s eyes narrowed. “Where’s Sada? And Amelia?”

  “They’re in good hands,” I reassured her. “Melanie Scott, who keeps the nursery at church, is watching them at my house. She came prepared to stay all night and through tomorrow, so I can be here for you.”

  “She’s good with babies?” Kat asked.

  “Absolutely,” I said. “Amelia adores her.”

  Kat receded in her chair. “Okay, then.”

  Greg knelt on one knee in front of her. “I’m praying that God will do a supernatural act of healing.” Tears welled in his eyes. “Zach’s the finest man I ever met, and there’s a lot of good he can still do in this world, so God will heal him. He has to.”

  I was amazed to see such emotion from a man who never prayed besides the blessing at dinner, and then only when I asked him to.

  The door opened abruptly, and a young African-American doctor walked in. “Mrs. Rutledge?”

  Kat shot to her feet. “Close enough.”

  The doctor nodded. “The operating room asked me to let you know that things are going very well. They’ve removed Mr. Rutledge’s spleen and resected part of his left lung, and he’s stable now.”

  Kat crumpled to her knees, hands clasped as if in prayer. “Thank God. Thank God.”

  The doctor stepped closer to give her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “They still have some other work to do, so he won’t be out of surgery for at least an hour, but two of the bullets missed his vital organs completely. I’d say he’s a very lucky man.”

  Kat rose up like the Phoenix, and just as fiery. “Lucky? What the hell are you talking about? He got shot! That doesn’t make him lucky in my book.”

  The doctor backed toward the door. “Sorry. I misspoke.” He glanced at me and Greg. “We’ll let y’all know when Mr. Rutledge is out of surgery.” Then he escaped, leaving us alone.

  I went to Kat and took her shoulders in my hands, praying that I could get through the haze of anger that surrounded her. “This is amazing news. He’s gonna be okay.”

  She crumpled in my arms, sobbing. “You’re right. You’re right. Thank God.”

  Greg made it a group hug. “Okay. Now I’m going to make arrangements for you and Sada to stay in one of the company condos we have near Perimeter Mall, strictly on the Q.T. That way, no one can find you till they catch this guy. Okay?”

  The fact that she and Sada might be in danger, too, dawned in Kat’s expression, followed by gratitude for Greg’s protection. “Thank you. That would be good.”

  Greg looked to me. “Will y’all be okay till I get back?”

  Kat and I both nodded.

  “Okay,” he said. “Is your house locked?”

  “I don’t know,” Kat said, worried. “What if the man is there? I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  Greg radiated calm and confidence. “I’ll get some of Zach’s DEA buddies to go with me. We’ll collect the baby things and some clothes for you and Sada, then take them to the condo.”

  “Thank you so much,” Kat told him, then looked to me. “I think you’re married to Superman.”

  I looked at Greg with new appreciation. “So do I.” As he started out, I told him, “There’s a spare key to Kat’s by the garage door at our house. It’s labeled.”

  “Good.” After he and two of the DEA agents had left, Kat and I settled side by side on the worn little vinyl sofa to wait for further word.

  “When they told me Zach might be dying, I was suddenly sure I’d lose him, and it hit me like a ton of bricks why,” she whispered softly after a protracted silence. “As punishment for what I did when I was fourteen.”

  What kind of craziness was this? I faced Kat squarely. “That’s just the devil, taking advantage of the situation to whisper lies into your ear. God’s not in the business of killing people for other people’s mistakes.”

  “An eye for a eye, a life for a life. It’s in the Bible,” she said, tormented. “I killed my baby when I was fourteen.”

  I went still with shock. “You were pregnant at fourteen?” I asked gently.

  Kat nodded. “Daddy told me Mama left us when I was twelve, but I found out later he threw her out because of her drinking. Then he started doing the same thing he’d thrown her out for. When I was fourteen, he passed out cold on the sofa, and his drinking buddy … took advantage of the situation. The next thing I knew, I was pregnant.”

  Dear God! Raped and pregnant at fourteen, by one of her father’s friends. No wonder she didn’t want to fix herself up, and wore such baggy clothes. It was camouflage. “Oh, Kat, honey. How horrible for you.”

  “I didn’t say anything to Daddy till I was sure,” she said, her eyes unfocused, moving back and forth as she relived that trauma. “When I told him, he said I had to get rid of it.” She shook her head. “I should have run away. Gone to the Crittenden home and had it. But I didn’t. I hated it because of its father and how it came to be, and I just wanted to go back to the way things had been before.”

  “Honey, you were just a child,” I reassured her. “None of this was your fault.”

  She shook her head in denial. “I should have run away, but I didn’t. I told myself it was for the best, so I let some backroom butcher erase what had happened. Then I ran away.”

  All this time, she’d been holding this awful secret. I thought of the way I’d pushed her not to have an abortion when she got pregnant, and my heart broke for her. “Oh, sweetie. It’s okay.”

  She let out a deep sigh. “Now, I don’t know what to believe.”

  “Does anybody else know about this?” I prodded gently.

  “Only Zach.” She managed a fragile smile. “He said it was okay, that he understood perfectly, so I put it away in a dark closet at the bottom of my mind, and moved on. But when he got shot …”

  “That has nothing to do with what happened to you back then.” I hugged her. “We knew there were risks to Zach’s undercover work. That’s what’s behind this, not some twisted form of divine retribution.”

  She leaned her head on my shoulder. “I sure am glad that you’re my friend.”

  “I love ya, girl. And your secret’s safe with me. I’ll take it to my grave.”

  “Thanks.”

  The door opened to reveal a nurse. “Mrs. Rutledge?”

  Kat looked at me briefly before responding, “Yes.”

  “Mr. Rutledge has been transferred to intensive care. If you’ll come with me, I’ll show you to the waiting room. Once he’s stable, you can see him briefly.”

  Relieved, Kat stood. “Thanks.”

  “See,” I told Kat. “He’s still hanging in there. He’s gonna be okay.”

  We followed the nurse to the ICU waiting area, where I was able to commandeer a set of those hospital socks with the rubber treads on the bottom for Kat. It was like locking the barn door after the cow was out, but anything was better than Kat’s walking barefoot in that germy place for one minute longer.

  Several hours passed as we shared the waiting room with a varied assortment of worried families of all colors and income brackets. Then Greg returned with the condo key for Kat and some Varsity lunch for all three of us.

  “The condo’s all ready for you and Sada,” he said as he handed us our red boxes and drinks. The rest of the waiting families inhaled the scent of fries, rings, and burgers with envy.
“I talked to the sitter,” Greg went on, “and she’s agreed to stay with the girls as long as necessary. Two agents will take her and the babies to the condo, then stay there with her, just to be safe.” Nothing like an executive to get things done in a hurry.

  Greg patted my shoulder, his voice low when he confided, “I’ve talked to the agency and the doctors here too, and as soon as Zach’s strong enough, we’re going to transfer him to Northside under an assumed name. Meanwhile, there will be two agents guarding his room, one inside and one out, till he’s well enough to be released.”

  Relief cleansed Kat’s expression. “Thank you so much. I don’t know what I’d have done without you.”

  What she and Zach would do after he got well hung heavy in the air between us, but no one brought it up.

  “Zach’s the only close friend I’ve ever had,” Greg told her. “I know it just looks like we play tennis and watch ball games together, but I’d do anything to help him, and you and Sada. Y’all can count on me, no matter what.”

  I’d never been as proud of my husband as I was then, and I believed he would always be there for me and Amelia, too.

  Greg went back to work after we’d eaten, but told us to call if anything came up. It was eleven P.M. before Kat and I finally got to go see Zach in intensive care. The agent outside his cubicle nodded with respect, as did the one who was sitting by his bed, but neither of them budged.

  Zach’s torso was so swollen and swaddled in bandages that he looked pregnant, and he was on a respirator, with tubes running everywhere.

  “Oh, God.” Kat turned into my shoulder, unable to face it.

  “Don’t look at the bad things,” I told her. “Look at his heart rate, steady at eighty-five. And his blood pressure’s at ninety over sixty. After losing all that blood, that’s great.”

  Kat peeked at the monitors above his IVs, and eased a little.

  “Now I’m going back to the waiting room, so you two can have some time alone.” As I left, the agent stepped out of the cubicle to wait with his colleague in the hallway.

  “We’ll find who did this,” he told me quietly. “Until then, nothing’s going to happen to Zach.” From the tone of his voice and the look on his and the other agent’s face, I believed him.

  Amazingly, Zach was able to be transferred up to Sandy Springs three days later, his face swaddled in bandages to conceal his identity. There, registered as Jason Smith, he was close enough for Kat to come and go several times a day. In an effort to conceal her identity, I took her shopping for some nonrevealing but tailored clothes and regular shoes, as a disguise. Then I plaited her unruly mane into a flattering French braid. Kat didn’t like it, but for Zach’s sake, she looked the part of a suburban housewife.

  The first time he saw her incognito, Zach did a double take, then gave her a thumbs-up.

  A week after Zach had checked into Northside, he was sitting up and having conversations.

  I was home making supper when the phone rang at four.

  “Betsy, it’s Zach,” he said in a stage whisper.

  I didn’t like the surreptitious tone in his voice.

  Unconsciously mimicking him, I whispered back, “Is everything okay?”

  “It will be, if you and Greg can be at the hospital at six,” he murmured. “With Amelia.”

  Odd. “I’ll get Greg to come home early, so we can be there,” I promised. But the baby … “Are you sure it’s okay to bring her? I didn’t think they allow babies in the hospital.”

  “They’ve made an exception, just this once. There’ll be an agent waiting in the lobby to escort y’all to my room.”

  What was he up to? But I didn’t press, because he clearly didn’t want to go into the details. “Okay. Whatever you say.”

  Zach let out a wicked chuckle, then said, “Bye,” and hung up.

  I called Greg at work and told him what Zach had asked.

  “I have a meeting at five-thirty, but I can change it,” he said. “I’ll pick you up at twenty till six.”

  “We’ll be ready.”

  When we walked into the hospital’s main entrance, a smiling DEA agent escorted us up the elevator, then to Zach’s room, making sure nobody was following us.

  We walked in to find the room filled with white roses and gardenias, Kat’s two favorite flowers, and Kat in an antique-white vintage wedding dress with Sada happily decked out in white on her hip. A robed minister beamed beside them.

  “Now that everyone is here,” the minister said, “shall we begin?”

  Kat motioned me to her side. “C’mere, matron of honor.”

  I hurried to her side, delighted that they’d decided to make things legal.

  “C’mere, best man,” Zach said, patting the other side of the bed.

  Greg let out a brief bark of laughter, then said, “It’s about time.” He stood beside his closest friend with pride and approval.

  “I had to get shot to get the woman I love to finally say ‘I do,’” Zach joked.

  The service was short and sweet. Maybe it was divine intervention, but the babies stayed quiet and interested.

  When it was done, the minister congratulated the newlyweds, then we all signed the marriage license, and it was done. Kat was officially Mrs. Zachary Rutledge III. Or was it IV?

  Then two DEA agents rolled in carts that smelled divine. “Congratulations, Zach,” the one who had escorted us said. “We had a running bet about you and Kat at work. I said she was too smart ever to marry you, so this is on me, prescreened and security cleared, from the Ritz. I watched them make it, myself.” He removed the silver domes to reveal a gourmet feast and a gorgeous little white wedding cake with sugar gardenias and roses. “Enjoy.”

  Zach grinned. “Thanks, Bill.”

  Kat ran over and surprised the guy with a big kiss on the cheek.

  Red with embarrassment, Bill retreated for the door. “If he ever does you wrong, just call me,” he told Kat. “I’ll straighten him out.”

  Kat laughed, happier than I had seen her in a long, long time. “He’s straight enough for me, and then some.”

  As we demolished the food, accompanied by the minister and Zach’s security detail, one at a time, we fell into a comfortable silence.

  Once he’d eaten his fill, the minister rose. “I’ve got to confess,” he said. “This is the best wedding I’ve conducted in a long time.” He shook Zach’s hand. “I look forward to seeing you and your family in church.”

  Zach flushed, shooting Kat a sidelong glance. “As soon as I can.”

  The minister looked at Kat. “Sometimes the worst black clouds can have a silver lining.”

  “I’ll be there with him in church,” Kat said, to my surprise. When she saw my reaction, she arched an eyebrow. “What? It’s the least I can do. God answered my prayers. I figure I can come see Him at His house every once in a while.”

  One of the guards poked his head in the door. “I forgot to tell you, Zach, there’s a little wedding gift from the department,” he said. “We finally brought down the local arm of that Colombian cartel, thanks to the info you got us. The losers started singing the minute we had them in custody. So we arrested their hit man this morning, and the agency has put so much heat on the street, the contract on you is officially canceled.”

  Kat crumpled over her husband, with Sada in her arms. “Thank God! It’s finally over.”

  Patting Kat, Zach eyed the agent with suspicion. “There’s more. Spit it out.”

  The agent grinned. “You’ve been promoted to full-status agent, with a commendation.”

  Kat perked up immediately. “Zach! That’s what you always wanted.”

  Mischief sparked the agent’s expression as he said, “Welcome to the world of dark suits and clean-shaven faces and short haircuts.” Then he popped back out.

  Kat was dismayed. “Is he kidding?”

  Zach shook his head. “Nope. I’m afraid your new husband is going preppy. No choice.”

  “But I like your beard
,” Kat protested. “It’s so soft. I won’t feel right kissing you without it.”

  Zach pulled her close. “I think I can take care of that.”

  Greg sobered. “You’ll still be at risk.”

  Zach laughed. “After the work I’ve been doing, being a regular agent will be safe as a tricycle ride.”

  “I sure hope so.”

  Zach stroked his bride’s back. “God kept me around to do this. I think I can count on Him to keep me safe from now on.”

  And God did, on the job, at least, but I’m getting ahead of myself.

  I took Sada from Kat’s arms. “Come on, sweetie. We’ll take you to Aunt Betsy’s to play with Amelia, so your parents can have a little alone time.”

  Kat smiled in gratitude. “Thanks. I need as much time with him as I can get before they turn him into a stranger.”

  I waved good-bye, and Greg followed me out with Amelia.

  “I hope Kat doesn’t hate the way he looks, cleaned up,” I confided when we were out of earshot.

  “It’ll be okay,” Greg reassured me. “I’m sure he’ll clean up fine.”

  Boy, did that turn out to be an understatement!

  Thirteen

  March 1989

  The girls were four and Kat and I were both about three months pregnant with our second—planned this time—when Zach and Greg decided they were old enough to play T-ball. Never mind that they were girls. This was the South, where fathers from Texas to Virginia considered Little League a mandatory rite of passage, even for little girls.

  Which was all well and good for tomboy Sada, who’d been hitting Zach’s pitches in their front yard since she was three. But Amelia was a girly girl, without any sign of athletic ability, just like me. After much patience and practice, Greg had gotten her to hit a few times off the tee, but I worried how she would respond in competition.

  Sada bounced back, no matter what. Amelia, though, was pensive and easily crushed. I had plenty of my own awful memories about how humiliated I’d been whenever I had to participate in games at recess; I didn’t want that for my daughter. But Greg was adamant that she at least try, and there was no talking him out of it.