“Ma’am, I have never been engaged, much less married,” Lewis insisted. “A person would know that, I think.”
“Well, sir. This is your birth certificate. This is your social security number. It matches all the information you just gave me, right down to the signature. This wedding certificate belongs to you, alrighty.” She printed out a copy and handed it over to let Vivi and Lewis read it for themselves. “As you can see, Mr. Lewis Heart married Miss Tressa Mae Hartman in April of 1999. I have no record of a dissolution of marriage.”
Vivi turned white as a ghost and leaned into me. I held her up and walked her over to the bench just outside the room. I was fanning her with some pamphlet I had picked up, and she looked about ready to faint.
Lewis followed us, holding the evidence in his hand, his mouth still dropped open. “There is just no way in this world, no way,” he said again. “This can’t be real. I know it can’t.”
“Get me some water, quick,” I said. “Vivi’s gonna pass out.”
“Where’s the water? Where?” Lewis went into panic mode.
Great, I thought. Now they’re both flippin’ out.
“Oh, I see it.” He ran down the little hallway in his slick dress shoes, heading for the watercooler, when he wiped out completely and landed on his back. I could hear the breath leaving his body from twenty feet away.
Vivi was crying and muttering, “No, no, no.” She didn’t even see him fall.
“Lewis, oh, my God, are you okay?” I asked.
“Fine,” he groaned, stumbling to his feet. “I’ll get that water now.” He made his way hurriedly toward the watercooler down the hall, his dress shoes still slipping on the newly waxed vinyl floor of the Tuscaloosa courthouse.
He grabbed some pointy paper cups, filled two of them and ran back to us, sloshing water all over his chest and slip-sliding as he came. He was a mess.
“Here you go, baby.” He gave Vivi one cup. She was still hyperventilating.
“Lewis Heart, please tell me this is a mistake,” she begged.
“I swear, I can explain.”
“Explain? Oh, my good God in heaven!”
Vivi jumped up, turning beet-red, looking like she was ready to wring his neck. She faced him down with her hands on her hips. “You mean to tell me this is true? You’re married for real? Oh, for Christ’s sake, Lewis, why haven’t you ever told me?”
She dropped back down on the bench, then leaned over onto me and began sobbing. “Why, Lewis? Oh, my God, why? We don’t have time for you to get a divorce before our wedding. It’s all over. I won’t have my wedding day, and I’m gonna have to birth this baby as an unwed mother.”
“Oh, honey,” he said, getting down on one knee in front of her. “Let me tell you all about it.”
“Yes,” I said, “I, for one, am interested in the whole sordid story.” I scowled down at him. My mind was racing. All this time I’d truly believed he was devoted to Vivi, but this news had thrown us for a loop. And this was my best friend we were talking about. There was no way I was gonna let this ass get off easy for hurting my Vivi.
Lewis clutched Vivi’s hands. “Okay, here goes. I sorta remember this.”
He had to be kidding. Sorta?
“Lewis, you gotta do better than that,” I said. Vivi’s head still lay on my chest, and my arms were wrapped around her protectively.
“I was, like, twenty-one, and we had this thing at my fraternity,” he began.
“This thing?” Vivi asked, finally sitting up.
“Well, we were all a bit drunk and someone teased somebody else that he was too chickenshit to get married. Things kind of went on from there, until the brothers at the frat decided to perform a fake wedding ceremony with our chaplain. So this dancer chick, Tressa was her name—”
“Yes, we heard,” I interrupted.
“Well, Tressa offered to be the bride and give a lap dance to the lucky groom.”
“Seriously?” Vivi snapped. “You took her up on that?”
“I was a kid! And I was drunk. I’m not saying it’s the best decision I ever made, but you know how I was back then. The wild one, the daredevil. We all had a bet that no one would go through with it, and I finally volunteered.”
“Always some sort of horny man bet. I hate that. We never behaved that way in college.” Vivi folded her arms and huffed. The truth was, we’d gotten in our own sort of trouble back then, but I wasn’t about to remind her now.
“Well,” Lewis went on, “I figured this guy was pretending to be a chaplain and fake-married us, or so I thought. He had us sign some joke certificate they’d drawn up and everyone toasted us. Then, she gave me my...uh...dance, and I left. I never saw her again.” Lewis was up pacing and shaking his head. “I thought it was all a big joke, but I guess the chaplain turned the papers in. He must have been a real preacher—and what he was doing at that party I will never understand. My God, I just can’t believe...” He sank down on the bench next to Vivi and covered his face with his hands.
“But that means... Well, this Tressa probably has no idea y’all are married, either,” I said, putting my lawyer hat on. “I do know one thing, though,” I added, looking at Vivi. “She’s not staying married.”
The two of them sat there in shock, trying to process the mud slide that had just knocked us off our feet.
“We have to find this woman,” I insisted.
“And what are we gonna do when we find her?” Vivi asked. “Show up and tell her, ‘Hey, you’ve been secretly married to the love of my life for thirteen years and, sorry, but we sorta need an annulment today. Just sign on the dotted line. Okay?’ Something tells me that won’t go over very well.”
I cringed, since that was basically my plan. “Look, I’ll see what I can find out about her, and then I’ll get back in touch with y’all. Go on to your meeting, Lewis, and we will call you later.”
“Vivi, you gotta believe me,” begged Lewis. “I love you! I don’t even remember what this girl looks like. It was so long ago, and it was a frat party, and I was twenty-one and stupid. Believe me, Red, I love only you.”
“I know you do, Lewis.” Vivi sighed. “I know it. Blake will help us. Right, Blake?”
Uh, yeah, I thought, nodding and smiling. Just tack it on to the list after “Plan the perfect double shower” and “Tackle the wedding of Vivi’s dreams.” No big deal.
But I knew that Vivi needed me and I wasn’t about to let her down. And I think it’s safe to say that Miss Myra Jean has a gift, for we most certainly had found the other woman.
4
Vivi and I flew back to her house, not even caring about the speed limit. We had a serious appointment with Google on my laptop.
We went inside, and Vivi got the going-to-war food of cookies and iced tea, while I ran up and grabbed my computer. After a couple of hours of snooping, I located one Tressa Mae Hartman in Birmingham, Alabama. Her age matched the woman we were looking for, and when we clicked on images after entering her name, we both nearly fell out of our chairs.
The picture that popped up on my screen was of a woman in her early thirties, brassy reddish-blond hair, frosted lips and a pound of eye shadow in shiny blue. Her pink cheeks made her look like the Little Drummer Boy, and