Page 69 of No Vow Broken

“Of course, no problem,” I said. “Do you need us to get out?”

“No, please stay seated.”

As the agents started walking around the car with some strange-looking devices, Slash brought us up to speed. “It’s standard practice that once the church has been swept for bombs or other undesirable devices in anticipation of a presidential appearance, they’re required to check everything coming into the area. They must keep it hazard-free until the wedding on Saturday. They were likely notified we were on our way by the police checkpoint we passed earlier.”

Eventually they waved us on, and we parked. This was going to be our final look at the church prior to the wedding. We bailed out of the car, joining up with the others. Amanda remained in charge of today’s activities. We were there to get our instructions so we didn’t screw up on the big day.

“Lexi, Slash, this is Rose Saunders,” Amanda said, introducing Slash and me to a middle-aged brunette who had a camera over one shoulder and a foldable stool over the other. “Rose is going to be your wedding photographer. I wanted you to meet her before the big day and have her scout out venues with you for your individual, family, and group photos.”

We shook hands and everyone introduced themselves, letting her know their role in the wedding. Before we went inside, Rose invited us to look around the outside of the church and consult on potential outdoor spots she thought would be good for certain photos.

While I understood the importance of the logistics to keep things moving during the photo opportunities, I really hated the idea of getting my photo taken repeatedly, especially while lots of people were watching. Photos with me as the center of attention were the absolute worst, because my awkwardness and cheesy smiles would be forever memorialized.

Rose seemed to sense my growing uneasiness, so she mentioned several times that the number of photos and poses we would do were our choice entirely. If we wanted just a few photos with a couple of people, that was fine with her. She was here to do whatever we wanted. Her willingness to work with our level of comfort made me feel a lot better, so I was able to relax a bit more. Amanda had once again chosen well for us.

“Lexi, your mother and I will be out here helping organize everyone for the next photo,” Amanda added. “We’ll each have a list of planned photos and who will be in each one. To speed things up, and since many of the photos will involve you and the wedding party, we felt that if we could plan each shot today, including where everyone will stand, we can be very efficient.”

“Sounds logical and practical,” I said.

“All that being said, I promise to keep the pictures to a minimum, as you requested,” Rose said. “I’ll just make sure I’ll get some great ones, okay?”

“Okay,” I said, and Slash nodded in agreement, our nerves soothed a bit by her calm and professional nature.

Father Armando excused himself to go inside and speak with Father Mulroney while the rest of us began to walk around the church. Occasionally we’d stop and Rose would frame us in the camera before making notes on her phone. I didn’t understand the parameters she used to determine which group should be in which shot from what angle, but that’s why she was the photographer and I wasn’t.

“Look at this gorgeous view,” Rose exclaimed using her hands to frame the horizon.

I followed her gaze. St. Michael’s was positioned on some of the only high ground bordering the Chesapeake Bay to our east. The church itself was nestled at the end of a small valley created by parallel ridges that ran for several miles from the northwest with a small stream in between them. The stream dumped into the bay at a small waterfall several hundred feet away. From the small promontory behind the church, you could just see the waterfall, with the Bay beyond.

“That waterfall is the perfect spot for just the two of you,” Rose said. “Very romantic. We’ll shoot several intimate photos here.”

I wasn’t sure what she meant by “intimate,” even though I agreed it was a beautiful backdrop for photos. Basia, Amanda, and Mom viewed it from every angle, oohing and aahing, and making suggestions I’m sure the photographer didn’t want or need. Slash made a comment that it was a good choice since the angles she planned would not be interrupted by the Marine One helicopter bringing the president, first lady, and the Holy Father to the ceremony, so there was that.

We wandered around a bit more while Rose noted some additional locations, but my attention began to wander. I could see the same happen to Slash. He’d become far less attentive to perfect photo opportunities and more interested in our surroundings. I noticed his body had gone on alert, and his eyes kept sweeping the surrounding woods.

“Everything okay?” I whispered as our group moved to the next spot.

He glanced down at me, his gaze holding mine. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

THIRTY-SIX

Slash

The cooling spring breeze wafted down the hills near St. Michael’s where we stood as the photographer, Amanda, Clarissa, and Basia fussed among themselves over the expected lighting and the order and positioning of the photos.

I kept Lexi close to me as we mostly stayed out of the way and let them do their thing. Tito, Elvis, and Xavier appeared bemused by it, but they were patient. Being the good friends they were, Tito and Elvis took notes when appropriate for the missing groomsmen and bridesmaids. It was moments like these—not necessarily when we were being shot at—that I understood the real commitment of friendship. Still, I had to admit Lexi’s preference for eloping was becoming even more attractive.

I let the others focus on the details of the photos and instead studied the hills and the valley looking for potential threats and potential avenues of attack. The chatter of the photographer, the wedding planner and the others barely registered in my consciousness. I realized I’d transitioned into a fully operational mode. I wasn’t sure why, but my subconscious had detected something that raised my hackles.

I just wasn’t sure what it was…yet.

I tried to evaluate the situation logically. I wasn’t naive enough to think the attackers were done with us. But the most obvious time for an attack would be Saturday, when everyone was gathered for the wedding, not now. No one of high value was currently on the premises other than us and a few Secret Service agents. That didn’t make sense if the attackers were focused on hitting a high-profile target such as the president, pope, or first lady.

The actual wedding was when security would be the highest. The Secret Service and Swiss Guard would set up a strong security perimeter and have a robust force present here at the church as well. I’d been told that an armed helicopter would also be close by, or in the air, to protect against airborne intruders, while police boats would guard the coastal approaches.

So, what was my subconscious trying to tell me?

I once again surveyed the site, this time from a security perspective. I’d already checked it out virtually this morning. From this vantage, I had a good view of the surrounding area. The only road to the church wound up from the southwest over a funneling ridge and down to the parking area, where our cars and a Secret Service SUV currently sat. Guests and the wedding party would be screened at a nearby church in town and bused up here by Secret Service-arranged transportation. That would leave the parking lot clear for Marine One to land.

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