Chapter 21

Johanna and I discussed the idea of taking off from our lives for a few days for an abbreviated honeymoon, but neither of us were really at points in life to do so. I mean, I could have just begged off, but I was in the middle of a project with a time limit, I'd already given my word on its completion, and Jo?

"I really shouldn't take off in the middle of the semester. Academically it's not good. And musically, we have the Veterans' Day thing in two weeks, and then a couple of big concerts to prep for."

"Then we won't. But understand this Johanna Elise Solheim Jackson. If I could break you loose from being intelligent and responsible, we'd be doing a world tour."

Giggle. "Like Norway? Lived there. Germany? Lived there. How about you and me get in that nasty ol' boat of ours and figure out how to run offshore and come back in to someplace interesting? Not now. Maybe Christmas break." Her brow knit in thought. "And instead of several thousand dollars of wedding dress, I think Mom and Dad will spring for me a set of foul weather gear that fits!"

That statement brought me a whimsical picture of Jo wearing one of my sets of foul weather gear on the boat, sleeves and trouser legs folded into cuffs. That was cute and I honestly got more turned on by what I didn't see of her in that outfit than some self-centered runway model trying to act sexy.

So the honeymoon, at least the first chapter of it, was interrupted by the Monday morning alarm clock. For me. For Jo, she could sleep in. Her first class was 0900. Jo doesn't sleep in. She's up with me and while I'm dressing, something that doesn't take long, she's in the kitchen banging the parts to the coffee pot.

"What cereal do you want this morning, baby?"

"Surprise me," I said.

Giggle. "My husband keeps Froot Loops in his pantry!"

"A man should give in to his cravings," I said.

"As long as it isn't one of the girls that works in your office," she said.

"I didn't crave 'em before I married this perfect specimen," I said. "Not gonna start now."

She sat a bowl of healthy shredded wheat in front of me. "Eat this. I need you healthy."

"You know, you could have stayed in bed," I said. "I'm perfectly capable of fixing my own breakfast."

"And I may exercise that option from time to time, but right now I want to eat cereal with you and drink coffee and then get a kiss as you go off to work."

I finished my cereal with her across the table, we fixed our coffee together, and I filled my travel mug and sat back down. "I really don't want to go."

"Oh, go! In an hour I gotta go to class. Sociology sucks, but I need the grade. Tell Brad and the gang that Tuesday will have to be the day I get us a table for lunch. And when you get home today, I will have completed a bunch of stuff. Getting my drivers' license changed. I will have done my flute practice. And period's over." Giggle. "Isn't it customary for newlyweds to want to romp a bit?"

"I have heard that such a thing is not unheard of. I would be willing to participate."

She has this subdued smirk that I find utterly charming. I got up to go off to work and received a searing kiss to think about for the remainder of the day.

I walked into the office amid more stares along with the customary greetings. Several of them waited until I sat my computer case down in my office before the questioning started. I'd hoped it was about my wedding. It was, sort of.

"You get married on Saturday afternoon and get involved in a shooting before midnight?" That was Carole Trencher, one of the CAD (Auth. Note: Computer Aided Drafting) people.

"Jennie and Brad met Jo last week. Brad? Is Jo worth defending?"

"Oh, yeah..."

"One does not react well to having two guys try to drag one's spouse off," I said. "And when one pulled a knife..."

"I'd'a shot 'im, and she ain't even my wife," Brad said.

Carole back-pedalled fast. "Oh, I wasn't saying..."

"Believe me," I said, "a shooting wasn't on my schedule for my wedding night..."

An anonymous male voice in the back, muffled, said "At least not that kind."

"Puh-lease," I said. "Mixed company here. Let's watch our language."

A less obvious "oops".

"I didn't go down there with Johanna expecting a gunfight," I said. "But the whole incident just goes to show..."

"Where were you?" Carole asked.

I named the bar we'd walked past.

"Omigod! We go there all the time!" Carole squealed.

"Not exactly a crime venue, is it?" I said. "The two that attacked us had just gotten thrown out of there."

"You can't carry in that place. Not legally. It's a bar." One of my co-workers knew the law.

"And we didn't go in there. We were walking the seawall. Moonlight. Romantic."

"Cliche'," Brad said.

"Buddy, I just married the girl. And I will happily do every cliche' there is."

"Good husband," Jennie said. "She's wise to train you early."

I filed that comment along with the conversation we'd had about collars and leashes. I just KNEW that would come up again. Now I was trying to figure out how to make it work. Jo's the perfect one to pull it off with. I'm thinking that the blue eyes and the red hair, she's already deep into a bunch of fetishes. All she needs is the leash.

"If there's ever a person to train me, it'd be Jo," I laughed as I headed away from the crowd.

Made it to almost nine-thirty before my supervisor stuck his head in the door. "Stoney, you got a minute?"

"Sure, boss," I said. "Whatcha got?" Of course, I had a sneaking suspicion as to what might be on his mind.

Bob looked somewhat serious. "I understand you got married."

"True," I said. "Saturday. Small ceremony. Big implications. I emailed HR to get the paperwork going."

"Congratulations," he said, coming as close to a smile as I'd ever seen from him.

"Thank you," I said. "You'll note that I'm back at work. Says something for my dedication."

"Uh-huh," he said. "Heard she's quite the stunner."

"Not if you're into bikini models. I like 'er, though."

"Man should like the woman he marries," he said. "My wife tells me to say that." He turned serious. "I heard you were in an altercation Saturday night."

"News travels fast," I said. "Yes, I was. Wasn't wearing my Oaktree Engineering T-shirt, though."

"I assume that since you're here you're not charged?"

"Either that or I posted bond."

"Ain't that funny. Article says you shot a guy?"

"Uh, yeah. Did the article say that there were two of 'em and one of 'em pulled a knife?"

"It said 'attempted mugging and rape'."

"Yeah. I guess they thought we were coming out of the club. I know you can't legally carry a pistol in a drinking establishment. A lot of people know that. I think I surprised 'em."

"Something about 'bringing a knife to a gunfight' comes to mind."

"Yeah, and there they were, on their way home from choir practice," I said.

"You don't sound like you're suffering remorse over it."

"Lemme show you something, Bob," I said. I clicked my mouse a few times and turned the monitor so he had a better angle. There was Jo, dressed up in the first concert in which I saw her solo. She was dressed in a flowing black dress, accenting her pale skin, her red hair, the silver flute, the orchestra behind her. One of my favorites. "See this girl?"

"That's your WIFE?!?"

"Yes, that is Johanna Elise Solheim Jackson. Soloist for the university orchestra. Twenty-one. Smart. Beautiful. And those two guys wanted to rape her. Exactly how much remorse would you feel?"

"I'd'a pissed on the corpses," Bob said.

"Kinda the way I feel. He had a record. They think his demise will solve a couple of previous rapes there and maybe some here. Same thing with the other guy. Drugs. Weapons violations. Stolen goods."

"She's twenty-one? When does she graduate?"

"Next spring. Double major," I said with a bit of pride. "Music and business administration."

"Impressive."

"Yes, she is," I said. "So, am I in trouble?"

"No, you're not in trouble. I'm just asking questions because I want to be prepared in case the guys on the top floor ask anything."

"I appreciate it," I said. "By the way, if you're feeling guilty about not giving a wedding gift, I'm registered at the Apple Store and she's registered at Bronfeld Music."

He snorted, awfully close to a laugh. "How about you and I take our wives out for dinner one evening. I'd be interested in meeting her. And Shelley says you're a particularly shameless punster."

"We can do that," I said. "I think Jo would like meeting Shelley."

"Then they'll look across the table at the two of us and feel all superior," he laughed.

"And by that move, we will have provided yet another function in the maintenance of a good marriage," I said.

"Go to work," he said. "My bonus needs bumping this year."

The remainder of my day consisted of numerous restarts as each of a dozen friends came by to get their personal reprise of the wedding and the incident. By two o'clock I went to Jennie's office. "Got some of that herbal tea left?" I asked.

"You hate my tea," she said suspiciously. "What gives?"

"I have told the same story a dozen times today. My throat is sore."

"You should've printed it out and made copies. Or better yet, email. Use the company broadcast list."

"Oh, yeah," I laughed. "Hi! Just wanted to bring everybody up to date on my nuptials and a subsequent gunfight. That'd go over like a ... Oh, you're a lady. Never mind."

"A turd in a punchbowl," she said. "I've been working around all of you for too long. One would hope that the possession of a four-year college degree would bespeak a certain level of couth."

"One would be horribly wrong," I said.

"Bingo." She handed me a teabag. "So you're really married to this girl."

I saw her eyes. Something I'd never noticed before. "Yeah, Jen. She's it. Really is it."

"Oh, well. I personally think that she made a good choice, fella. Just sayin'. And I hope the tea does you some good." She reached back into her desk. "Here. Honey. Better than sugar."

"Thanks, Jen," I said. "I appreciate it." I left, made a cup of tea, returned the bottle of honey. Waved. She was on the phone, so I returned to my office and tried to finish a couple of tasks before the end of the day. The honeyed tea helped.

She knew I'd be headed out the door at four-thirty. That's when my cellphone broke into a lilting flute solo. Original. I happen to have slept with the artist. "Hi, cutie!" I said.

"Hi, baby. Wanna go out for dinner?"

"Sure," I said. "I'll be home in half an hour."

"I'll be here," she said. "How was your day?"

"News got out."

"Wedding? The other thing?"

"Oh, yeah," I said. "I got a sore throat from telling the story."

"I bet," she said. "Nobody knew anything about it in class. I guess my people don't read as much as your people."

I mulled that thought, and since it was Monday, another thought, also. "Practice night?"

"Yeah! You're coming with me, aren't you?"

"I will if I'm not a disruption."

"Bring your iPad. And your banjo. We'll stop for dinner on the way."

We met at the apartment. She was already there. I walked in to a dream: Johanna completely naked. After a hot kiss with me pushed back against the closed front door, I asked, "What would you have done if I walked in with Brad?"

"In the first place, you'd've told me if you were bringing somebody home, and in the second place, I would have squealed, run like a deer and never looked Brad in the face again." Her face moved to mine again. Another kiss. "And we have some time to spend ... before we go to dinner, you know..." Her eyes were laughing, excited.