Chapter One
My second
wedding day was off to a perfect start. The July weather, which had been seasonally scorching for weeks, tempered itself that
morning to merely hot. My something old was my grandmother's wedding dress. It had survived the dry cleaning process and was
hanging in my closet ready for me to wear on what I hoped would be my final walk down the aisle. My something blue was a little
garter loaned to me by my sister, Reagan. It was on my dresser beside the new gold ring that would soon be on Luke's finger.
So I had all the superstitious bases covered. However since in my life nothing ever goes perfectly, I was expecting
trouble, but I never dreamed that I'd get involved in another murder.
My name is Kennedy Killingsworth and I have always lived in Midway, Georgia (which until a few months ago was the
dullest place on earth). My current residence is an apartment above the office for the Midway Store and Save-a self-storage
facility. After the wedding I'll be moving into an apartment in Atlanta with my new husband, Luke Scoggins, where we will
both be students at Emory University.
The wedding plans started
two months earlier when I told my parents that I was going to marry Luke. This announcement was met with limited enthusiasm.
My father's reactions are always reserved. If he ever had any strong feelings about anything, forty years of living with my
mother has extinguished them. My mother is very opinionated and always feels free to share what she thinks on any subject.
She was raised to despise the Scogginses, a name long associated with scandal and criminal activity in Dougherty County. If
I married Luke not only would the Killingsworths be legally linked with the Scoggins family, I would actually be one of them.
And this was not an easy thing for my mother to accept.
But
one of Mother's many good qualities is her resiliency. After she had a few days to think about it, she decided that me married,
even to a Scoggins, was preferable to me alone and not producing any grandchildren. So she jumped into wedding planning with
both of her dainty little feet.
I pictured my marriage to
Luke as a very simple affair. We'd say our vows in my parents' living room. I'd wear a nice Sunday dress and Luke would wear
the suit he'd purchased for his Uncle Foster's funeral. Afterward we could adjourn to the kitchen where my mother would serve
light refreshments to those who had come to witness the event. Then Luke and I would leave for our honeymoon. I didn't care
where we went as long as it was far away. I wanted to spend quality alone-time with Luke - and that wasn't ever going to happen
in Midway.
But according to my mother, it would be the end
of the world if we didn't get married in a church. I was prepared to dig my heels in and fight her on this. I'd already done
the whole church-wedding thing once to please my mother and I didn't feel that I owed her a second one. Then Luke remarked
that he kind of liked the idea of watching me walk toward him down a church aisle. So I reluctantly agreed with the understanding
that it will be small and simple.
Mother said if we wanted
to offend people by limiting the number of guests we invited that was up to us. But some things were just expected and could
not be worked around no matter how ‘simple' we wanted to keep things.
One of these minimum standards was that wedding invitations had to be engraved on high-quality cotton paper.
Another was that the sanctuary had to be full of flowers. We had to have a traditional wedding cake with
at least four layers (she assured us anything less was reported to be bad luck and would definitely look funny in the pictures).
She said we absolutely had to have a full-blown
reception in the church's fellowship hall after the ceremony. There, in addition to the afore mentioned tall wedding cake,
a vast array of finger foods would be served to guests because heaven forbid that we send anyone home hungry.
But the most annoying of my mother's minimum requirements was that all
immediate family members had to be given a significant role in the ceremony. As a result I ended up with two matrons
of honor (both of my sisters), two ring bearers (both my devilish nephews), and three flower girls (two of my nieces and one
of Luke's). Since juvenile delinquency runs in both families, we couldn't trust any of our junior attendants with jewelry.
So it was decided that Luke and I would carry the rings ourselves.
When we arrived for the rehearsal the night before the wedding it was obvious that my desire for small and simple
had been completely ignored. The church was decorated from top to bottom with flowers, candles, ribbons and bows in a medley
of summer colors. And although I hated to admit it, everything looked nice.
The rehearsal went well. The children were no more unruly than usual and the dinner afterward, which Luke had catered
by a barbecue restaurant in Albany, was delicious. When it was over we sat on the front porch swing at my parents' house basking
in the unexpected success. Luke, nor I, either one had been particularly lucky in our lives up to this point. So we marveled
a little - and even expressed some concern, that our current state of happiness was too good to be true. We decided to hope
that double bad luck would cancel out - the way two negatives make a positive.
While sitting on the porch swing Luke had said that he needed to tell me something important. I braced myself, expecting
the worst. Then he announced that after a thorough investigation of the Mormon Church he had decided he wanted to become a
baptized member. He'd asked how I felt about it.
Although
surrounded by religion my entire life, I have never felt spiritually engaged. The Scogginses are famous for repulsing religious
overtures (with shotguns if necessary). So Luke's desire to align himself with any congregation was surprising and a little
confusing to me.
I didn't mind that he'd chosen the Mormons
over the Baptists (who unquestionably deserved to save him since they'd been futilely pursuing his family's souls for generations).
My sister, Madison, was a member of the Mormon Church and I'd attended their meetings several times. So I knew the Mormons
were good Christian people. My only objection (which I kept to myself) was that I felt excluded. Up until that point we had
been unified in our opinions of the important things like politics and religion (we didn't care for either one). Now Luke
was joining a church and embracing a new religion, leaving me in spiritual no-man's land alone.
My mother, however, was a different matter entirely. She believes that all the world should be Baptist, or at least
protestant, to keep things from being so confusing. She was horrified when Madison married a Mormon and then joined his church,
but over time she had come to accept it. And she had gotten used to Luke, in spite of his embarrassing family history. But
a Mormon Scoggins might be beyond her tolerance limit. So I suggested that he wait until after the wedding to inform my mother
of his religious plans. With a smile, he agreed.
I felt like
we had passed the final big hurdle. But fate was just lulling me into a false sense of security.
I woke up early on my aforementioned wedding day and took a relaxing bubble bath. I could hear my mother and Luke's
niece, Heaven, talking in the kitchen. I hoped my mother was telling the child, who was nothing like her name, not to do anything
outrageous at the wedding. I'd already offered a bribe, but figured a few words of warning from Mother couldn't hurt.
I finished my bath and was lounging around in my bathrobe, waiting for
Farrah, my mother's beautician, to come and fix my hair when the doorbell rang for the hundredth time. We had been receiving
deliveries all morning so I didn't pay any attention - until I heard Luke's voice.
Naturally I stood and walked toward the door. But when Mother saw me coming she slammed the door in Luke's face.
"The groom can't see the bride before the ceremony on the day of the wedding!" she cried. "It's bad luck!"
"I did not see Cade on the morning before our wedding," I pointed
out. "So maybe that's not a tradition we should put too much confidence in." Then I reached around my mother and
clasped the doorknob.
She didn't budge. "I'm serious,
Kennedy! You shouldn't invite trouble."
My mother can
be very stubborn, but I can be more so. I was about to continue the argument when Luke spoke from the other side of the closed
door.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Killingsworth, but all superstitions
aside I have to talk to Kennedy." His tone was polite but insistent. He makes every effort to please my mother and I
knew he wouldn't upset her if there was any choice. Something was wrong and I needed to find out exactly what it was before
my heart pounded out of my chest.
"I'm afraid it's an
emergency," he added to further terrify me.
Completely
unconcerned about my mother's wedding-day superstitions, or the fact that I was wearing a tattered terrycloth robe and no
make-up, I pushed her out of the way and yanked the door open wide. There on the front steps stood a soldier I had never seen
before. His nametag identified him as Lt. Dempsey. Beside him was Luke, the love of my life, my future husband. Unless he
had come to his senses and was here to tell me that he didn't want to get any more closely involved with my family and was
therefore calling off the wedding.
I pointed at Luke and commanded,
"Say you still love me!"
His face relaxed a little.
"Of course I still love you."
I reached out and
drew him into the living room away from the prying eyes of our nosey neighbor, Miss Ida Jean. "Then I can handle whatever
terrible news you've come to deliver."
"I hope so."
He didn't sound sure. And I noted that Lt. Dempsey followed him inside without an invitation.
