Page 29 of Not the Bodyguard's Widow
Mrs. Capps clucked her tongue. “What size?”
“Seven and a half or eight.”
“I’ll be right back. I need you to fix your hair like mine. Braid it at the nape and twist it up. Use only six pins.” Mrs. Capps placed the last of the straight pins in the dress and hurried down the hall.
“What am I doing?” Kimberly spoke to the mirror.
“Making the right choice?” Alex leaned against the doorjamb. He’d put a sports coat on over his button-down with jeans. “I have a full suit over at the caretaker’s house, but it feels a bit too Secret Service.”
“I feel like a fraud in this dress. Don’t they have some rule against dressing outsiders up in their clothing?”
Alex shrugged. “No idea. I was going to visit Shipshewana one of these days and tour the visitors’ center.”
The doorbell rang, and Alex left to get it.
Kimberly finished putting up her hair. She hadn’t even agreed to this. Why should she? The tiniest of flutters moved inside, and Kimberly pressed her hand to her baby bump. Another flutter. She couldn’t feel it from the outside, but someone inside moved. “I hope that means you approve.”
“I approve.” Mrs. Capps set a pair of shoes on the floor, then fussed over Kimberly’s bun and adjusted the cap. “There. Put your shoes on so we can go.”
“We?”
“You’ll need me as a witness and then at the hospital.” A well-worn cross-body bag dangled from Mrs. Capps’s arm.
“I feel like I’m breaking some religious rule by wearing your clothes.” Kimberly tied the black shoes.
“Didn’t Moses hide among the Egyptians and Rahab hide the men of Israel? I am doing the same.”
“Won’t you get in trouble?”
Mrs. Capps waved her hand in front of her face. “Don’t speak unless spoken to, and all will be well.”
Alex appeared in the doorway. “What ID do you have?”
“My passport and a birth certificate. My passport is in my maiden name. I got it the year before I got married and never changed it over. Only my California driver’s license has my married name. I used my other for business.”
“The birth certificate should work. Bring the passport too.”
Kimberly unzipped the lining of her suitcase and pulled out the passport. “What would an Amish woman need a passport for? They don’t take photos.”
“Maybe you converted.” Mrs. Capps nodded at both of them. “What are you waiting for?”
Alex offered Kimberly his elbow, and she threaded her arm through it.
“Ready?” He smiled down at her.
“Or not, here I come.” She returned a nervous smile, thought of her baby, and let him lead her out the door.
* * *
Alex opened the back passenger door of the extended-cab truck for Mrs. Capps and shut it behind her. Then he opened the passenger door for Kimberly. The bouquet he’d picked from the flowerbed around the back of Art House lay on the seat. None of the flowers were roses, daffodils or tulips, but they looked pretty. A white ribbon he found in the laundry room held them together. He handed them to Kimberly.
“For me?”
“It seemed to me a bride should have flowers, even if...”
“It isn’t real?” Kimberly smelled the blooms. “Thank you.”
“That first step is too high.” Alex scooped her up and set her in the seat, then pulled the seat belt out most of the way. After shutting her door, he tapped the button on his phone to open the garage door.
