The Shack: An Unstoppable Man

This was supposed to be solemn; I was giving my daughter away. But I had to suppress a grin.

Just a couple of years ago, I'd known I would never have this. I'd already lost my daughters.

All the shit Charlotte had pulled, all the crap I'd fallen into. But over the last several months, I'd gotten my daughters back. I glanced at Delaney and saw a tiny smirk. Hell, I'd even gained one more, one that definitely took after me. I honesty had a hard time picturing giving her away at a wedding, though.

I may have smiled a little more than I was supposed to.

Charlotte was reasonably safe the entire ceremony. Delaney had exaggerated a bit, but Charli was definitely starting to look different; artificial and odd.

Tiffany and Tara had very carefully placed flower arrangements to separate us while they had ensured Sheree was seated next to me, just in case. My smart girls had matured into very smart women.

The ceremony flowed flawlessly from the opening to the kiss. I didn't even feel like strangling Charlotte, and she actually seemed to be focused on something besides herself for once. She watched the proceedings with an introspective softness I hadn't seen since before the divorce.

Sheree, on the other hand, watched joyfully, tears of happiness flowing. She gave me a little shrug and a tiny twist of a smile as she took my second handkerchief. The other one was already stuffed into her clutch, soaked.

Just before the recessional started, Sheree slipped out the far side of the pew and out toward the entrance. She hadn't said anything to me, but Tara and Tiffany had leaned heavily on her for everything from getting invitations out to last-minute decorating, so I wasn't particularly surprised. Much to my annoyance, that did leave me escorting Charlotte back down the aisle to the church entrance.

She pasted on a completely artificial smile as we walked out.

Tiffany and Eric waited in the antechamber as we passed on out so we could line up. I fell into line next to Sheree, who was smiling so broadly it had to hurt.

I glanced up and down the line. "Where's Delaney?"

"She'll be here in a moment; she's takin' care a' some things."

Before I even had time to ask anything, the new couple started down the steps to applause and cheers, under showers of the wild rice that had apparently replaced white rice at this church, in some kind of misplaced belief that rice could harm birds. I'd trekked through enough bird-filled rice paddies to be pretty sure that wasn't an issue.

Throwing the rice was supposed to ensure fertility, or so I'd heard, but all things considered, that wasn't going to be a problem.

Tiffany was glowing. I'd heard of that before, but I'd never really seen it, not like this. Eric looked like he was somewhere between ecstatic and terrified, but that was okay. It'd been a long time, but if I remembered right, that was how a groom was supposed to look.

Eric suddenly stumbled to a stop right in front of Sheree and me, staring past us. Tiffany caught his arm and looked at him with a brilliant smile.

I turned to look, but I already knew what was coming, just from the sound.

The streamers of flowers were new. I hadn't seen them before. And the magnetic "Just Married" signs on the trunk and doors were new.

The smooth rumble of the Fury's engine was pretty familiar, though, and the slight figure that popped out after the car slid to a smooth stop was clearly Delaney.

Sheree beamed, and I realized what she'd been up to. Delaney must have had help to quickly change from her bridesmaid dress to the black chauffeur's uniform and hat she was wearing.

The best man, whose name I'd never really bothered to learn, stared open-jawed for a moment at the almost-blinding car; all bold red and flawless white and brilliant chrome. He shook his head at Tara. "Who lets her drive that?"

Tara laughed. "She does. She built it."

Delaney very formally opened the passenger door and allowed the bride and groom to get seated before closing it, walking around and effortlessly pulled away.

The best man watched the Fury until it was gone. I was sure I heard a whimper from him. Marcus DeLuca stared after the car for a moment, standing behind the videographer. "Quite a remarkable young woman."

Charlotte smiled with pride. "Of course she is; she was the top of her class at Chapel Hill Medical School."

Marcus blinked laconically. "Oh yes. Tiffany. She is remarkable as well."

Confusion flickered across Charlotte's face, but she quelled it quickly and turned to talk to one of the innumerable guests I didn't recognize.

Sheree hooked her arm through mine and guided me just a bit away from the crowd. "Delaney and Tiffany wanted that to be a surprise. Eric really loves old cars, so Tiffany thought that it'd be special. She's taking them to the reception, then to their hotel near the airport afterwards so they can make their plane tomorrow."

I shrugged. "Technically, she has a permit, so it's legal until she leaves the airport."

"She promised to go right back to the yard after she drops them off. She doesn't want to take her baby down the rock road to the cabin. We'll have to meet her there."

"I like it, but that leaves an extra limousine."

Sheree smiled. "Charlotte and her escort will take that smaller limousine; you and me, Tara and any of the bridesmaids who want to ride with us, get the big one."

"You all do realize I'm not actually going to kill Charlotte during the wedding?"

"We know, but that woman pure aggravates the hell outta you, and she does it on purpose most of the time. Why give her the opportunity?"

The forty-five-minute ride to the Glenwyk Country Club hall was far more pleasant than expected.

Tara wedged herself next to Sheree, barely recognizable. Her usual cold-lawyer face was gone, replaced by an almost childlike joy for Tiffany. As far as I could remember, Tara was never the one with dreams of a big wedding, but I could see she was caught up in it, at least for now.

"Did you see Allen's face when Delaney pulled up?" She shook her head, laughing.

La'ketha leaned over and grabbed her hand. "I thought he was gonna cry." She looked up at Sheree. "That was a great idea."

Sheree gave me a tiny smile and a "you caught me" shrug before responding to La'ketha. "You said they were all gearheads, and I figured it'd go over well."

Tara smiled. "I bet we don't hear a lot of talk about their cars at the reception."

"Talk about a cool car they bought when there's a fifteen-year-old girl in the room who completely rebuilt a classic car from the ground up? I don't think so." La'ketha laughed with evil glee.

*****

Cocktail hour was a cover for the photographer to take the wedding pictures, so I was pretty glad I'd paid for the open bar at the Glenwyk. It kept the guests busy and out of trouble.

I drank ginger ale. Alcohol hadn't been my real problem, and I would certainly toast the bride and groom with a sip of champagne, but there was no point in taking any real chances.

Sheree had been kidnapped by Tara as soon as we stepped out of the limo; she needed help wrangling the people for pictures.

Much to my amusement, Delaney found herself explaining how she'd restored her baby to a respectful audience of rapt groomsmen. She was a little hesitant at first, but once they asked her a couple of technical questions, she warmed to it and was soon drawing diagrams on napkins.

*****

After the toasts and speeches, and after being served a remarkably edible meal, I found myself seated between Charlotte and Sheree. I was also seated directly across the table from the governor's wife.

The governor was making professionally meaningless small talk with Charlotte. He droned on and on, laughing at his own jokes, with his perfect plastic hair and perfect flawless tux.

Tuning him out was relatively simple. The governor's wife was a slightly different problem. An elegant, older woman with short silver hair and a smile that would have seemed placid but for a slight wry twist, she used it on me very precisely. "Charlotte says that you and she are on remarkably good terms despite the divorce."

I felt Sheree grip my leg tightly, and she leaned forward. "Les is really dedicated to his kids. He's always put them first, you know."

"That's all too rare these days, isn't it?" The governor's wife shifted over to Sheree. "Charlotte told me you were a dancer at one time?"

Sheree gripped me harder but smiled evenly. "It was a long time ago. I just got too old."

"Really? Competitive ballroom or stage?"

Sheree only hesitated for a second. "Stage, I guess. Exotic."

The governor's wife gave her a completely honest smile. "Well, you certainly still have the figure for it." She leaned forward, and stage whispered. "I thought about doing that when I was in college." She shot Sheree a wink and a knowing smile.

Sheree relaxed her grip a bit. Whether or not the governor's wife was serious or just using long-practiced political skills, she'd certainly gained points as far as I was concerned.

The governor's wife made adept small talk for the next several minutes, and I was beginning to suspect she was probably the reason for the governor's success.

*****

Just as I was sure I had identified the tune the band was playing, a familiar crawl flashed up my spine. I turned instinctively, switching my ginger ale to my left hand by reflex. I knew that feeling, that cold hiss of warning, the feeling of an approaching ambush.

A square-cut guy in his thirties stopped abruptly about eight feet away. He cocked his head slightly, glancing sideways at an older man talking animatedly with Charlotte.

His right foot shifted back, and I saw his hand twitch toward his hip. He paused and slowly forced his hand down.

"Not a good idea. Too many witnesses, and I'm just standing here." I took a sip.

He nodded slowly.

I waited until he relaxed. "Who are you?"

"Nobody, really. Just the judge's security." I could see him forcing himself to relax.

"Let me guess. Judge Knowlton."

He gave a slight, cynical smile. "You have a minute?"

"Sure. Let's get out of the way so people can enjoy themselves." I walked out onto the balcony and stood at the railing. "What do I call you?"

"Keller." He followed, staying well back. He eyed the medals on my tux. "It's even more impressive in person than on paper."

"Let me guess; you've seen my records. I'm starting to think they're giving them out in cereal boxes."

"The state has a copy. The parts of your record that aren't classified, anyway."

I shrugged. "Paper pushers."

"I'd like to know the story of that Silver Star. That was all blacked out."

"Somebody really pissed me off."

He grunted. "Kind of figured that, the Purple Heart awarded for the same date...your third, I think..."

I studied him for a moment, taking in his demeanor. "Marine?"

He nodded. "Ten years."

"What does Knowlton want?"

"He wants to be sure you don't have any, you know, hard feelings."

"We just want to be left the fuck alone. We won't start shit, but we sure-as-fuck will end it."

"I'll let him know."

"You do that."

He gave a wry shake of his head. "You seem pretty damn sure of yourself. Not a lot of witnesses out here on the balcony, you know."

"No, there aren't." Delaney stepped out behind him, staring at him unflinchingly. She shifted her look to me. "He going over the balcony?"

"Nah, he needs to explain things to the judge."

"The judge? The one that stuck you in jail for the weekend?"

"That one."

She rolled her eyes. "I thought this was serious; I mean, I told all those guys back in there that I had to go to the bathroom and everything. God, that's embarrassing." She shook her head and looked at Keller. "He hasn't even made the fucking list yet."

He looked puzzled. "The list?"

"The list of people that have pissed us off enough to get our attention."

He eyed us both, measuring the distances carefully, lingering a bit on the foot-long blade in Delaney's hand. "I'd guess that most people don't stay on that list very long."

"Nah. It's kind of a temporary status." I stared into my glass for a moment. "If it's any comfort, our legal counsel gets really whiny anytime we talk about killing judges."

He nodded. "I'll make sure to let the judge know. I'll tell him that if he plans to get on your list, he'll probably need more men."

"Lots more." Delaney's mouth twisted in a frown.

I chuckled. "She's lazy; she whines if she has to get up to deal with less than five. The youth of today, no work ethic."

He glanced around, focusing on the lack of witnesses. "I will definitely be sure to let the judge know."

"You do that."

He quietly and cautiously withdrew. I looked out over the club grounds. "The cake knife?"

"The other choices were a fucking flower vase or the champagne bottle." Delaney leaned on the railing for a moment.

"Good choice. Tiffany would be pissed if you broke the champagne bottle."

Delaney looked back after Keller. "You didn't need me for this. Sorry."

"I'm getting older. I'll take the back up."

"You're not that old." Delaney sighed and looked down, a flicker of something in her eyes. "You could take him."

"Maybe, but why take chances?"

"You're not that old, you know." She repeated, her voice cracking a bit. She didn't want to, but she was starting to understand. I could hear it.

"Age doesn't go in reverse."

"Sucks." She paused, then forced a slightly sickly smile. "I'll just have to take up the slack, won't I?"

"We'll get you there." I glanced through the doorway to the banquet room. "Looks like everyone is coming in. We better get in there. And don't forget to put the cake knife back."

*****

The reception went very well. Tara and Tiffany had conspired with Sheree to ensure that I was never really alone with Charlotte. After the father-daughter dance, I was intercepted in turn by Tara and Sheree. That was probably a pretty good idea. Safer for everyone.

As Tiffany dragged Sheree off, apparently to teach some dance steps to the bridesmaids, I headed back to the table, arriving at the same time as Delaney. I watched her limp over. "Were you...dancing?"

She shuddered. "I don't want to talk about it."

I shrugged and sat down; she slumped into the chair next to me. "Benjy is here."

"What?"

"He was talking to Tara, and I listened in. He's on the governor's security detail."

"That's not normal. I'd guess he volunteered to be on the detail to keep an eye on us. Probably a damn good thing we didn't knife Keller and dump him off the balcony then."

She kicked off her shoes and stared at her toes. "There were a lot of bushes down there; they might not have found him until tomorrow."

"Probably would have been tough to explain, either way."

She frowned. "I think he was trying to get information out of Tara. He got her to dance with him."

"So that's why..." I couldn't finish and tried not to laugh.

"I said I don't want to talk about it." She flexed her toes. "I don't think my toes are broken."

"Pick a smaller guy next time."

She gave me a death glare. "I don't think I could. It was the ring bearer and flower girl. I told Eric's sister I'd take them and dance with them so she could dance with her husband."

"That was very nice of you. I wish I could have seen that."

She growled. "I improvised. All that adapt, improvise, and overcome crap."

"That's a Marine thing, where you'd hear that? You hanging out with jarheads?"

"Summer camp. Katy, one of the swim instructors, always says it." She studied her toes for a minute. "All of them talk about improvising a lot. Especially..." She paused and looked inside her shoe.

"Especially..." I prodded her.

"The Awareness instructor."

"Awareness? What the hell is 'awareness,' some New Age meditation crap?"

"No, it's surveillance and countersurveillance."

"Kurt has someone to specifically teach you that?"

"He has a friend who does it. Real cool. She's awesome-scary." Delaney grinned broadly.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Everyone just calls her Spooky."

"Never heard of her." I knew they'd been teaching the girls things like that, but just from its tone, I felt I was missing something important. I really needed to talk to Kurt about just what they were doing out there. And what his plans were.

*****

Ten minutes later, as I was watching Sheree lead the now-shoeless bridesmaids through another series of moves, I caught something off on the side of the hall. Delaney gave me a frantic wave and gestured towards a doorway into a side room. I looked over and saw Mooky trying to get my attention.

I made my way over as quickly as I could manage without drawing attention.

Delaney slipped in just behind me.

"Dude." Mooky leaned forward a bit, hands wide open. "I had to drop off some paperwork for my uncle, and I saw Delaney's car, so I figured I'd sneak in. Nommy said Adidas is gone. She's looking for him."

"Who the hell is Nommy?"

"She's, uh, his girlfriend; she lives with him." Just from his expression, it was apparent I was supposed to know that. He blinked. "Oh yeah. Adidas is a dealer, he does that synthetic shit."

"When did he leave?"

"Like maybe a week or two after all those overdoses. She isn't sure."

Delaney frowned. "She wasn't around when he left?"

"Yeah...uh, no, she just doesn't remember. She wasn't sure until he was gone for a while."

"How can she not be sure..." Delaney held her hands up helplessly.

"He didn't take his clothes or anything, just his car. And. Uh, Nommy kind of uses a lot of shit; that's why she hangs with Adidas."

"But now she's looking for him?"

Mooky shrugged haplessly. "Rent's due, you know?"

I glanced at Delaney. "It was either that or the drugs were running out."

Delaney's face twisted in revulsion. "That's like seriously fucked up."

"Yeah. It is. The hard stuff does that." Mooky sighed, looking down. "That's all I heard, but I figured you should know, and I was here anyway."

"Mooky!" I watched in shock as the governor's wife swept in with a dazzling smile. "I thought I saw you over here."

"Hey, Duchess, how are you doing?" The open expression of concern on Mooky's face was a complete shock to Delaney and me. We looked at each other in disbelief as they briefly hugged.

"Better." She stepped back and touched her hair. "See?"

"That's righteous!" Mooky nodded eagerly, then suddenly seemed to realize we were all in the same room. "Oh, uh, yeah, I gotta get going; I need to get back."

As soon as he left, I looked at the governor's wife and raised an eyebrow. She raised one back.

Delaney just smirked at her. "You know Mooky?"

She studied us for a long moment. "Breast cancer. Two years ago. The chemo worked, but it hit me really hard. I could barely stand to eat at all, and when I could, I couldn't keep anything down. I was in Hell." She looked down introspectively. "I have a nephew who wanted to help. He told me he could get some...I believe he called it 'primo shit.' So, yes, I ended up getting to know Mooky. He's a good kid."

We all stood silent for a long moment.

She looked up with a trace of amusement. "Believe it or not, it helped."

After another long moment, she shook her head ruefully. "It was a hell of a lot stronger than what I remembered from college."

I shrugged. "Mooky really believes in it. It's practically a religion for him."

She gave us a wry gaze. "It is for him. You don't strike me as that particular type of believer, Mr. Dawes."

"Not really. Delaney does like tacos, though."

Delaney nodded gravely. "I do. I really like tacos."

She looked between us for a second. "I'm sure you do."

We stood in one of those odd moments of silence until Charlotte's completely artificial laugh floated to us faintly. Delaney barely kept from curling her lip. My expression apparently wasn't much better.