Free Buried In Buttercream by G. A. McKevett Page A

touched her, filling her with pride and happiness.
    But the one Savannah was watching, the only one in her heart and her mind at that moment, was the man who was standing in front of the minister, shifting nervously from one foot to the other, fidgeting in typical Dirk fashion.
    Even on his wedding day, good ol’ Dirk was still Dirk. And she wouldn’t have wanted him any other way.
    Next to him stood his best man, Ryan. Lined up beside Ryan were the rest of the groomsmen—John, Waycross, and Macon.
    How strange, she thought. That this man would be her best friend for so many years and then, just a subtle shift in their relationship would change everything forever.
    “Oh, the power of five little bullets,” she whispered.
    “What?”
    Savannah turned around to see Madeline Aberson standing behind her. “Just talking to myself,” she said. “Thinking about the events that led to this day.”
    “Yes, Ryan and John told me a little about your ... incident. I’m sorry.”
    Savannah cleared her throat and lifted her chin. “I’m just fine now.”
    “Of course you are.”
    The constant pain below her breast where the bullet had torn through her body reminded Savannah that she was a liar. But she couldn’t help thinking that if she kept telling the world how fine she was, eventually she would be.
    “This is your day,” Madeline said. “Don’t let that son of a bitch take this from you, too. Don’t invite him to your wedding. Don’t let him hitch a ride, even in your own head.”
    Savannah allowed the woman’s words to flow through her, all the way to her heart. Even to the painful spot in her chest. She smiled and said, “You’re right. And thank you, for everything you’ve done.”
    Madeline shrugged. “Nothing special.”
    “Hey, I owe you ... especially for pinning Marietta’s gown in the back so that her pink paisley bra straps wouldn’t show.”
    “Eh, no biggie. I always have spare safety pins. I’ve never been to a wedding yet where they didn’t come in handy.”
    “And giving Macon the right socks.”
    “I always carry a pair of black dress socks in my bag, too. You’d be surprised how many guys show up in a tux, wearing white crew socks.”
    “I just want you to know that I appreciate it.”
    Madeline smiled, and it occurred to Savannah that she looked very tired. In fact, she looked far more exhausted than even Savannah, herself, felt.
    “Just a few more minutes now,” Madeline told her. “Are you ready to do this?”
    “Very ready. My sister has a couple more songs to sing. She’s been practicing for weeks. If I don’t let her do the whole set, I’ll never hear the end of it.”
    “She’s quite good.”
    “Yes. She is. We’re very proud of her.”
    The cell phone Madeline was holding in her hand rang with a cheerful little tune that sounded familiar to Savannah, but she couldn’t place it at the moment.
    When Madeline glanced down at the caller ID, a look crossed her face that Savannah could only describe as worried ... maybe even frightened.
    Quickly she switched the phone off, then shoved it into her purse. She glanced out at the congregation on the lawn. “As soon as your sister finishes, you can go. I think we’ve got your bridesmaids all corralled.”
    Savannah surveyed the long line of women standing behind her in their assorted blue dresses. The Reid girls. All of them, except Atlanta, the performer.
    Marietta, Vidalia, Jesup, Cordele, and Alma. Each so similar to Savannah, yet unique in their own special way.
    For the past few days, they had nearly driven her crazy, but she wouldn’t have taken a million dollars for any of them.
    “You have a nice family,” Madeline said, as though reading her mind. “I don’t have any sisters. You’re lucky.”
    “Yes, I am.”
    “I don’t think you need me anymore. I’m going to run back to the bridal suite and just tidy it up a bit. I don’t want you and your groom going to a messy room afterward.”
    “I did leave my