The Proviso (117 page)

The entire place guffawed, including the wedding
party, and Knox had the good grace to look sheepish.

“Say your vows, boy.”

Knox turned to Justice as well as he could with her
arm still around his back, to run his finger lightly along
Justice’s jawline, to play with a large copper curl. There was a
suspicious glimmer in his eyes. He did not stop looking at her or
playing with her hair as he spoke.

“My wife,” he began, then cleared his throat.
Justice marveled that his voice hadn’t suffered from his death and
resurrection—because he
had
died. Its timbre was robust,
powerful, full of a kind of joy that she had never heard before.
Her nose stung when she remembered what he’d told her of the time
that he’d spent elsewhere while his body lay in the morgue. She
didn’t believe that any of what he told her had actually happened,
but he had shared it with her anyway, knowing she would dismiss
every detail as trauma-induced hallucination. Justice had sat
silent throughout, listening, not allowing her skepticism to show
because it was important to
him
. He believed—Giselle, Bryce,
Sebastian believed; Eilis
wanted
to believe—and it gave them
peace. That was all that mattered.

“Iustitia, my wife, sacrificed her freedom to marry
me. If I could not have married her, I would have married no one;
OKH would be Sebastian’s and Bryce’s company with my blessing. I
forced her to marry me, then let her go the next day because what I
had done to her was evil. I have never known such despair and pain
in my life as the day I watched her drive away, knowing I would
never see her again, talk to her, touch her, kiss her. Yet two days
later, she came back to me, believed in me, loved me, stayed with
me. I have never known such joy and hope in my life.

“Fully comprehending the risks and what would be
asked of her, she chose to fight this fight with us and she has
fought well. She took on the Chouteau County prosecutor and won.
She took on a bully and a barbarian and won each battle. She took
on Fen Hilliard—three times—” He stopped abruptly, then his lusty
laugh rang out.
“Priceless!”

Out of all those hundreds of people, only about
twenty understood Knox’s comment enough to laugh, but it was so
genuine, so full of merriment that it sounded like many, many more
and others joined in. It was good to laugh at a wedding.

Knox waited, then continued. “She took on Fen
Hilliard and won. She took on an intruder in our home and won. She
ran barefoot through fire on broken glass to save our daughter’s
life and succeeded. I would have nothing if it weren’t for her. I
have no words to express my love for her. She is a woman of power
and strength, fire and depth, and I pledge everything I
have—including my life—to her.”

And because Justice was the bride and she could do
what she wanted to do, she leaned forward and kissed him softly. He
returned it until Judge Wilson cleared his throat. “Save it, kids,”
he muttered. “You’re messing up my rhythm.”

Then it was Justice’s turn. She cleared her throat,
staring into those very, very dark blue eyes she thought she would
never see again.

“‘Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit
impediments. Love is not love which alters when it alteration
finds, or bends with the remover to remove: O no! it is an
ever-fixed mark that looks on tempests and is never shaken; it is
the star to every wandering bark, whose worth’s unknown, although
his height be taken. Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and
cheeks within his bending sickle’s compass come: love alters not
with his brief hours and weeks, but bears it out even to the edge
of doom. If this be error and upon me proved, I never writ, nor no
man ever loved.’”

By the second sentence, Knox was murmuring it with
her, with her cadence, a tear rolling down his cheek, an amazed
smile on his face.

They would not exchange rings this night; those were
still on their rightful fingers, never to be taken off.

“Do you, Fort Knox Oliver Hilliard, take this woman
as your lifelong mate?”

“I do.”

“Do you, Iustitia Jane McKinley Hilliard, take this
man as your lifelong mate?”

“I do.”

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. Again. Okay,
now
you may kiss the boy, Justice.”

Their embrace was tight, their kiss long and deep.
When they finally pulled apart, Knox whispered, “I love you,
Iustitia.”

“I love you, Knox. Please don’t do that to me
again.”

“Never.”

They turned and Justice looked over her shoulder, up
to the balcony of the Bistro. With a smile and a nod, electric
guitar, synthesizer, and drums pounded through Union Station,
ricocheting off the marble walls and floor. The choir of Justice’s
faith had consented to play the recessional: “Freewill.”

Half of the guests were shocked, but the other
half—those politicos on Justice’s side of the aisle—laughed.

It took a long time for Knox and Justice to make
their way back up the aisle, between Knox’s difficulties and
greeting people, shaking hands, garnering hugs. Bryce and Giselle,
Sebastian and Eilis, followed closely behind them and socialized
while keeping an eye on Knox. They’d only made a quarter of the
distance to the end of the carpet before “New World Man” began.

* * * * *

MEANWHILE, BACK AT THE RANCH . . .

JANUARY 1, 2009

12:50 a.m.

The OKH press liaison met the pack at the end of the
red carpet. The wedding coordinator made sure the guests filed in
the opposite direction, toward the vast front lobby of Union
Station while the chairs were rapidly cleared. Everyone but
Justice, Knox, and Mercy, the rest of the pack and their pups,
would dance and snack, drink and mingle all night long. Five
hundred-plus people with a legitimate excuse to have a party.

After some time, an elevator ride up to the
mezzanine, and quite a bit of shuffling, Justice and her family
were arranged on a dais behind a podium littered with a dozen
microphones. It bore the logo of OKH Enterprises, as did the navy
curtain behind it. Camera flashes had already begun to pop and news
camera lights and booms were everywhere.

“Are you all right?” Justice whispered to Knox when
he sighed and carefully rolled his head around on his neck.

“I could use some more drugs,” he murmured in
return, “and I’m really tired.” Her heart ached; he certainly
looked worn out. She’d spend this wedding night driving to
Mansfield, listening to Mercy’s snortles and snuffs and Knox’s
pain- and narcotic-induced sleep, making sure he didn’t leave her
again anytime soon—and that was just fine with her.

Prepared, Justice dug in her tiny reticule for his
painkillers. Knox swallowed them with a gulp from a water bottle
swiped from the podium. He took a deep breath and stepped up to the
microphones.

“Ladies and gentlemen, good morning.” The room
stilled but for the usual noises of technology. “As of five days
ago, I inherited the majority shares of OKH Enterprises, the
company my father, Oliver Hilliard, founded and my uncle, Fen
Hilliard, built to its present success.

“As you are all aware, four weeks ago, I shot and
killed Fen Hilliard in defense of my wife and daughter.
Subsequently, my mother, Trudy Hilliard, committed suicide. The
reasons why this happened are detailed in a letter to the editor at
the
Wall Street Journal
, so I won’t belabor that.

“With regard to the events of December fourth: I
have been cleared of any wrongdoing in Fen’s death and the shooting
deaths of two intruders in our home. My wife, Justice McKinley
Hilliard, has been cleared in the shooting death of a third
intruder.

“As you also know, I was shot three times by a
federal agent for reasons which are still unclear and under
investigation. I would like to express my heartfelt gratitude to
Dr. Powell, who noticed I wasn’t really dead before she started to
carve me up—”

A wry chuckle rolled in a wave around the room.

“—and all the members of the medical team who worked
to save my life that night. They have worked tirelessly for the
last four weeks and have graciously allowed me to stand here on
this day with my family.

“With regard to my alleged criminal activities
during my tenure as Chouteau County prosecutor: For the last four
weeks, my financial advisor, Sebastian Taight, and my attorneys,
Bryce Kenard and Eric Cipriani, have cooperated with the FBI fully
to account for my actions, as I have been unable to do so. With
their assistance and information, I have been cleared of all
suspicion of bribery, extortion, blackmail, fraud, money
laundering, racketeering, and murder, amongst a variety of other
things I don’t care to recite.

“I resigned my position as Chouteau County
prosecutor as of two hours ago, December 31. Chouteau County
executive assistant prosecutor Eric Cipriani will be taking over my
duties in full as of right now, January 1, and will run for that
position when the term ends. I want to offer him my full support in
his campaign; I can think of no better man to lead Chouteau
County’s law enforcement in a new direction. As of this coming
August, I will be teaching law at Brigham Young University.

“With regard to the official disposition of OKH
Enterprises: Eilis Hilliard Logan Taight, as you all know, is my
sister and the new CEO of OKH Enterprises as of December 27. She is
highly qualified and in a unique position to look after the
interests of OKH employees as Fen did and to continue the
philanthropic tradition that Fen began. We have no interest in
changing anything that Fen has done, because he did very well as
steward of my father’s company and for that, we thank him. Eilis
shares Fen’s business philosophy as well as his blood and is
sensitive to the distress Fen’s passing will cause.

“Morally, this company belongs to all six of us: Me,
Justice, Sebastian, Eilis, Giselle, and Bryce. We were forced to
purchase my inheritance in cash, in property, in time, in lost
opportunities, heartache and fear, and finally, in blood. It could
not have been done without all of us working as a team. So we’ve
gathered in the remaining shares of OKH stock in order to take the
company private as equal owners.

“What my father built was good. What Fen made it
into was grand. We believe Eilis can commingle and internalize the
spirits of her father and mine, and lead the company to an even
brighter future as a family operation. Thank you.”

Knox signaled to the room full of reporters to open
the floor for questions and picked one of dozens screaming and
gesturing to go first. Someone lifted the podium off the platform
and out of the way. A microphone was passed from person to person
as his or her name was called, in deference to Knox’s
condition.

*

Reporter: Ms. Logan, will your position as CEO of
OKH Enterprises be a front for Mr. Taight’s leadership?

E H L Taight: No. I don’t run shadow operations.

Reporter: Mr. Hilliard, you bear a striking
resemblance to Fen Hilliard. Is it possible that you, too, are his
son?

K Hilliard: No. DNA testing has confirmed that I’m
Oliver’s son.

Reporter: Ms. Logan, you are well known to be the
Goddess, the Muse to Ford. Who is Ford and is he the man in the
painting with you?

E H L Taight: If Ford wants to present himself and
answer your questions, he may. Today is a day for business, not
art.

Reporter: Mr. Hilliard, how do you feel now that
you’ve been cleared of all allegations made against you through the
years?

K Hilliard: You know, right now I don’t even care.
I’m just happy to be alive and with my family, especially my wife
and daughter.

Reporter: Mr. Taight, you’re a well-known art
speculator, you have extensive training in art, and now there are
whisperings in the art community and on Wall Street that you are in
fact Ford himself and on the strength of that rumor, the value of
Ford paintings has skyrocketed. Would you care to comment?

S Taight: No, and no more questions about Ford will
be entertained.

Reporter: This question is for Mrs. Hilliard. Mrs.
Hilliard, will you continue to work in the Chouteau County
prosecutor’s office as an AP until your family’s move to Utah?

J M Hilliard: Yes.

Reporter: Mr. Taight, congressional hearings are
scheduled later this month to question you concerning your dubious
acquisition of several companies that you subsequently dismantled.
Mr. Kenard, Mr. Hilliard, and your respective wives are also
requested to be present. Would you care to comment?

S Taight: I don’t recognize Congress’s right to
compel me to answer for actions that aren’t crimes to begin with
and then to compel me to prove myself innocent of them. If someone
wants to bring formal charges against me, fine. Do that, then prove
me guilty. We’ve informed Congress in no uncertain terms that we’re
staying home to watch the Superbowl.

Reporter: And Senator Oth has warned you that you’ll
be cited for contempt and jailed if you fail to appear.
Comment?

S Taight: That’s a fair accusation. I do hold
Congress in contempt, particularly Senator Oth. If I end up in the
can, I’ll consider myself a political prisoner and don’t think
Justice and her print and talk radio cohorts won’t have a few
things to say about that.

Reporter: So, Mr. Hilliard, what are you going to do
next?

K Hilliard: Dude, I’m going surfing.

The End

* * * * *

Book 2 in the Tales of Dunham

by

Moriah Jovan

Coming November 27, 2009

* * * * *