"You can't?"
"Nope," she said. "I've never heard you mom play her violin before."
Jake chewed his lips for a moment. "So... uh... you're still planning on coming to the wedding with me?" he asked her.
"Well, of course I am," she said, as if wondering why he would even suggest to the contrary. "I'm part of the wedding party, aren't I? I'm Sharon's maid of honor."
"Oh... well... okay then," he said. "I'd just assumed that... you know... after the last few weeks, that..."
She dismissed the last two weeks with a wave of her hand. "I wouldn't miss it for the world," she said. "A Jewish Star Trek wedding? There's no way I'm not gonna see this."
They'd gone out to dinner that night at a restaurant of his choosing. She didn't have her gun with her, didn't check the parking lot before getting out of the car, didn't even check behind them to see if they were followed. She remained bubbly and animated, almost like the old Helen. They had a great time and went back to Jake's house after. There, they spent the better part of two hours making steamy, passionate love in Jake's bed. Helen was a most enthusiastic participant in the activity.
The only sour spot in her seemingly miraculous transformation was her refusal to talk about any subject that was even remotely related to the problems they'd had. She refused to even admit that there had been any problems. She would change the subject, sometimes forcibly, whenever such a topic was brought up. It was like she was trying to pretend that the last three months had been nothing but blissful splendor, the time of their lives.
Jake actually found himself feeling uneasy at times about her return to the old Helen. What had happened to her? Had she simply kicked the funk she'd been immersed in and decided to go back to living life? Had someone — her father or perhaps Sharon or Pauline — had a talk with her and told her that she was driving on an express lane to the destruction of her relationship and possibly her sanity? Or was there something else going on? Some new stage to the breakdown she was undergoing?
Whatever it was, she'd climbed into Jake's plane with him late yesterday morning and took her position in the co-pilot's chair while Coop, Pauline, and Charlie sat in the back seats (Matt flew commercial to Heritage, Darren had simply refused to go to the wedding at all, and Nerdly himself had already been in Heritage since Saturday night). The two and a half hour flight had been pleasant enough and Helen had participated enthusiastically in the conversation as it had passed around the plane. She remained pleasant and talkative as they'd eaten dinner last night with Jake's parents and had stayed up late with Jake and his dad, drinking beer, commenting on the NFL season currently underway (she was of the ludicrous opinion that the 49ers were going to take their second straight Super Bowl this year) and the recently ended baseball season. That night, when they climbed into Jake's cramped adolescent bed, they had screwed quietly but enthusiastically for the better part of an hour before dropping off into a solid, though slightly uncomfortable slumber.
And now, as she got out of that bed stark naked, her hair in disarray, her eyes slightly bloodshot and bleary, her head probably pounding with a moderate beer hangover, she seemed as chipper as ever.
"Do we have time to shower before we go down?" she asked.
"Only if we do it together," he said with a smile.
She smiled back. "We'd better get at it then," she told him.
They put on robes and gathered up the sweats and t-shirts they planned to wear until it was time to dress for the wedding. After a quick check to make sure the coast was clear, they walked down the hallway to the upstairs bathroom and slipped inside. The shower was a standard tub/shower combo with a simple vinyl curtain across it. The water pressure was about half of what Jake was used to. Nevertheless, they stepped inside and spent a few glorious minutes soaping each other's bodies and washing each other's hair. As they rinsed off the last of the soap, Jake grasped her from behind, putting his arms around her middle and cupping her wet breasts beneath the spray. She leaned her head to the right and he started kissing her neck.
"Mmmm," she moaned softly, her hand reaching back to grasp his erection. "Do we have time for a quick one before we go down?"
They really didn't, but Jake elected to make the time. Helen bent over at the waist and he mounted her from behind, driving himself in and out of her quickly, forcefully until he shot off inside of her. She came just as he did, sending a spray of her warm juices down over his thighs.
The hot water was just starting to go cold when they finally stepped out. They quickly dried off, put their clothes on, picked up their towels and robes for the laundry basket, and headed downstairs. Breakfast was already on the table, cooling rapidly. Tom and Mary Kingsley gave their houseguests a few knowing looks and a few raised eyebrows but said nothing.
Jake, as the de facto best man for the groom, had procured limousines for the entire wedding party and made sure that they would all arrive at McAndrew's Park at the same time. The one that would carry his family arrived at Jake's parent's house at 12:30 PM. He, Helen, his mother, and his father climbed inside.
Jake and Helen were dressed in their Star Trek uniforms. They were not merely costumes, per se, but actual wardrobe from the set of the show itself. Though LeVar Burton and Patrick Stewart were unable to attend, they had been taken enough with Jake when he'd met them a few months before to arrange for him to borrow some uniforms and props from the studio. As such, Jake was wearing a red shirt with black shoulders, a pair of black pants, and Starfleet boots. He had the ranking of commander on his lapel, an actual Starfleet emblem on his breast, and an actual fake communicator clipped to his belt. With his long hair, he did not exactly look like Commander Riker, but the effect was otherwise perfect.
Helen, who was playing the part of Counselor Troi, was a much better illusion. Though she was larger in stature and bosom than the real Counselor Troi, her hair and facial features were similar. She wore a lavender shirt that dipped down, displaying part of her shoulders, the top of her chest, and a considerable amount of her cleavage (for some reason that Jake could not figure out, Counselor Troi got to show off her goods when nobody else was allowed to). Her hair was done in a manner that Marina Sirtis often utilized in the show. She had the Starfleet emblem on her chest and the rankings of Lieutenant Commander.
Jake's mother and father, though honored guests, were not part of the actual wedding party. As such, they were dressed a little more traditionally. Tom wore a black, three-piece suit and a red tie — one of the outfits he wore on the rare occasions he had to go to court. Mary wore a long, blue and white formal gown. Her brown hair was done up in a manner Jake hadn't seen on her in many years — perhaps not since Pauline's graduation from college.
McAndrew's Park, named for one of the railroad barons who had helped make Heritage what it was today, was a two hundred acre park right in the heart of the downtown district. Its central feature was a twelve acre rose garden featuring blooms from all over the world. Though it was late in the season, most of the bushes in the garden were still in bloom. Directly in the center of the garden, on a grassy area landscaped in just for wedding ceremonies (the city of Heritage made close to a hundred thousand dollars a year by renting out the garden and the community building adjacent to it for weddings), the traditional chuppah, or canopy, beneath which the actual wedding would take place, had been erected upon poles decorated with flowers.
The park was a beehive of activity as the limousine pulled into the parking lot adjacent to the community center building. Other limos were just arriving and cars were filling the parking spaces. Guest were milling about, starting to move toward the building. Photographers — both the official wedding photographers Jake had hired, and the inevitable newsprint, media hounds, and television photographers — formed a cluster near the front of the building. Two news vans, their aerials extended into the sky, were parked near the rear of the lot. Curious bystanders were perhaps the most numerous of the humans in view, although they were all being kept behind a security tape that was guarded by uniformed Heritage police officers (Jake had hired them as security — the city of Heritage made nearly half a million a year renting out its cops for security duty at private events) and a few armed private security guards.