The Accidental Bride (28 page)

“Everything okay at the Barr M?”

“Fine, just fine. Jacob keeps it running like a well-oiled machine. How're things in Guatemala?”

“Good, good. Fact is . . . that's why your mom and I are calling.”

“Hi, honey,” Mom said. “We're sharing the phone. We wanted to tell you about something that happened yesterday.”

Travis got the feeling something big was coming. “Okay, shoot.”

“During the service, Pastor Gomez preached on knowing God's will for your life. And during the invitation, well, your dad and I just looked at each other, and we both knew what that was for us.”

“Let's just tell him, Doreen,” Dad said.

“Okay, well, the bottom line is, we feel God calling us to stay here, honey.”

“Permanently,” Dad said.

“I'll be darned.” It was all Travis could think to say. His folks had ranched all his life. But they were nothing if not obedient to God.

“We've both been feeling it,” his mom said. “But we didn't mention it to each other until last night during the service. It's been weighing heavily on me our whole time here.”

“On me too,” Dad said. “We want to serve the people of Guatemala.”

“We've come to love them very much,” Mom said.

“That's something else. I'm happy for you, that you both agree and want to go where God's leading you. Are you still coming home for a while? What about the Barr M?”

“We're returning just long enough to pack our things,” Mom said.

“We're wondering if you'd be interested in running the Barr M now that you're back in Moose Creek,” Dad said. “Maybe even owning it.”

Travis squeezed the wheel, regret rising in him so fast it threatened to suck him under. If they'd asked a week ago, how different things would've been. But now . . .

“That means a lot to me, Dad. Mom.” How could he commit to living the rest of his life next door to the woman he loved? He wasn't into torture.

“I hear a
but
coming,” Mom said.

He hoped this wouldn't ruin their plans. “Thing is, it didn't work out between me and Shay. I don't know if I'm going back after the finals.”

“I see,” Dad said.

Travis heard the disappointment in his voice.

“I'm sorry to hear that,” Mom said. “Are you okay, honey?”

“I'll be fine.” Eventually. He'd lost her before and survived it. If you could call the life he had before surviving.

“You and Shay,” his mom said. “I thought for sure . . . Are you certain it's over?”

“It didn't work out like I thought. I—I wish it had.”

“Have you prayed about it, honey?”

“Yeah, of course, I—” He had prayed before he returned to Moose Creek. Had felt peace about returning with hopes of reuniting with his soul mate.

He frowned at the windshield. But when the wedding certificate had come, when the crazy arrangement idea had occurred, had he even stopped to get God's take on it?

He didn't think so. He'd known Miss Lucy was praying for them, but what kind of Christian was he, letting the elderly woman pull his spiritual weight?

“Maybe I didn't,” he said. “Not like I should've.” Regret settled into a spot in his heart, just below the empty space Shay had left.

“Maybe you can work it out with her yet. She's your wife, whether either of you intended it or not.”

“I don't think so, Mom. Right now I'm just going to focus on getting through the finals. After that I may end up back in Texas.”

“You sure about that, son? I know how much you love the ranch. And you've always wanted a spread of your own.”

“Don't press him, Wyatt. Honey, you take some time and think it over. At least a couple weeks, okay?”

He promised he would, though his hopes weren't high. They talked for a few more minutes, then wrapped up the call.

For the remainder of the drive, he found himself dreaming of owning the Barr M. Of Shay and him running the whole spread and raising a family. Then he'd wake from his daydream and scold himself for letting his thoughts get away.

By the time he reached the hotel, it was nearly midnight. He checked in and took the gilded elevator to his room. Once there, he tossed his suitcase on the hotel bed and went to look out the window. Twenty floors down, the streets teemed with cars and people. The glitter of Las Vegas stared back, mocking him with its promise of pleasure and thrills.

There would be no pleasure or thrills for him in this city. He glanced at the lump in his duffel bag where Shay's new wedding band nested in a bed of velvet. He felt like all kinds of fool now for having hoped. For having thought it could last forever.

A knock sounded on the hotel door, interrupting his thoughts.

There was only one person who'd visit him at this hour. Seth was probably bursting at the seams to get started. He forced a smile and opened the door.

But it wasn't Seth standing in the hall. Ella wore her trademark red cowboy hat and Crest smile. Her perfume was sweet and cloying.

“Travis!” She drew him into a hug. “It's so good to see you.”

He'd ignored the flirtatious text she'd sent three days ago, and now he was paying for that. But he'd already told her he was married, told her he loved his wife. He hated to be rude, but she was leaving him no choice.

Ella stepped back, her smile unwavering. “You look the same.” She grabbed his left hand and looked at it. “No wedding band . . . Were you just puttin' me on, Travis McCoy?”

He pulled his hand away and stuffed it in his pocket. He'd removed the band somewhere between Ogden and Salt Lake City.

“ 'Fraid not,” he said.

The sparkle in her eyes dimmed, more at his action than his words, he suspected.

She propped her smile back up. “Well, we have a long three weeks ahead of us and plenty of time to . . . catch up.” She winked. “You look tired as a Thanksgiving turkey. If you get bored, I'm in 1620, and Seth's across the hall from me.”

She'd never been subtle. “See you tomorrow.” He pushed the door shut.

“ 'Night, Travis.”

He locked the door and fell into bed, weariness creeping over every muscle in his body.

32

S
hay finished her chores and headed into the house to warm up. December had blown frigid air into the valley. The snow from November had melted off on Thanksgiving, leaving Paradise Valley the bleak and barren shade of old straw.

Shay knew all about bleak and barren. When Travis left, it felt like he'd taken part of her with him, whether she wanted to admit it or not. She tried not to think about him. Tried not to think about the fact that he was with Ella now, that he'd run back to his first love—the wretched rodeo. Why was she always a distant second? Music for Garrett and the rodeo for Travis.

It seemed the more she tried not to think of him, the more her thoughts went there. Olivia was barely speaking to her. Apparently Shay was to blame for Travis's departure, for ruining the marriage.

Ha! Some marriage. It started as an accident and ended with a betrayal. But telling Olivia that would do no good. Despite Shay's anger with Travis, she didn't want to spoil Olivia's perception of him. She'd learn soon enough that people weren't always as they seemed.

Shay entered the house, shrugged off her coat, and pulled off her boots. The boots. An unwanted souvenir from life with Travis. If she had another pair, she'd give these away, no matter how comfy they were, just to be rid of the constant reminder.

But she didn't have another pair, and shedding him from her life wouldn't be as easy as discarding a pair of boots. That much she knew. He was everywhere she turned.

Her eyes caught the back of the
Moose Creek Chronicle
. She could hardly bring herself to pick it up anymore. When she did, she saw news of the national finals or even the crossword puzzle waiting to be filled in. She tore her eyes from the paper and rubbed her hands together, warming them.

The phone vibrated. She pulled it from her pocket, hating the jittery anticipation that filled her. She read the screen, then told herself that the sinking feeling was relief.

“Hey, Abigail.”

“You're meeting us for lunch at the Tin Roof at noon.”

Abigail had been trying to get her out of the house for days, but facing all the questions about Travis's whereabouts at church had been hard enough. When others asked where he was, she'd told them he was at the finals. But the finals ended today. Now what would she say?

“Shay?”

“Who's us?”

“Aunt Lucy and I, and we're not taking no for an answer. You've been cooped up too long.”

Shay checked her watch. “Noon's twenty minutes from now.”

“Better hurry.”

“Fine, fine, whatever.” She was tired of putting up a fight. Between tiptoeing around Olivia and putting off Abigail, she was fresh out of energy.

She hung up, changed into clean jeans, a clean undershirt, and a warm sweater, and headed toward the Tin Roof.

The diner was packed with retired folks and moms, trying to shake the winter doldrums. Abigail waved from the far corner booth. Shay wove between tables, an uncomfortable feeling spreading through her bones. Her neighbors' looks glanced off her as she met their eyes. She knew pity when she saw it. But why?

Did they already know Travis had left? That he wasn't coming back after the rodeo? But how could they know that? She fixed her eyes on the back of Miss Lucy's head.

They'd know soon enough, but the comprehension would come slowly, and by the time they realized it, maybe it wouldn't be such a big deal. Maybe it wouldn't spin the rumor mill for months on end like the last time he'd left her. Maybe there wouldn't be awkward pats on the shoulder and pity-filled glances this time.

Please, Lord
.

She reached the booth and was forced to slide into Abigail's side by Miss Lucy's enormous purse.

Miss Lucy gave her a smile, her kind eyes enlarged through her coke-bottle glasses. “Shay, dear, so glad you could make it.”

“Not like I had much choice.” She opened her menu and tossed Abigail a put-upon look.

Abigail shrugged, all innocence.

Shay turned her mug over. Mercy, did she ever need coffee. She peeked at her neighbors over the menu. Ida Mae stared over her coffee mug rim. The woman looked away when her eyes met Shay's. Mayor Wadell's wife gave her a sad smile. And Mrs. Teasley's eyes tipped down at the corners before she looked away, sipping her coffee.

Shay fastened her eyes on the menu, on an image of a juicy hamburger, and slunk down in her seat. “Why's everyone staring?”

Mabel Franklin, the owner, appeared at her side, wielding a welcome pot of coffee. She filled Shay's mug, leaving room for cream.

“Darlin' . . .” Mabel leaned closer, whispering. “Didn't you see the paper?”

Dread wormed through her body as Shay looked at Abigail, then at Miss Lucy. They seemed equally oblivious.

“What—what's going on?” Shay asked.

“I have a paper right here.” Miss Lucy pulled the
Moose Creek
Chronicle
from her purse.

Mabel patted her on the shoulder. “You just keep your chin up, honey.” She winked at Shay and then walked away, her pink uniform skirt swaying against her thin form.

Her words, intended to soothe, sent a bolt of panic through her instead.

“Oh, dear.” Miss Lucy frowned.

“What is it?” Abigail flipped the paper around.

Shay read the headline above the fold on the cover: “Founders Day Wedding One Big Mistake.”

No. Please . .
.

Of their own volition, her eyes continued to the column.

This year's Founders Day wedding reenactment was anything but the tedious ritual of years gone by. Local rancher Shay Brandenberger and Moose Creek native Travis McCoy stirred up conversation when they announced in June that the ceremony had been legitimate. It seemed the once-engaged couple had at last decided to tie the knot. But recent discoveries refute this idea.

Turns out, the wedding was all a big mistake.

The couple's original wedding license—somehow saved for fourteen years and brought to the scene of what was supposed to be a wedding reenactment—was mistakenly filed by Pastor George Blevins.

“It got mixed up with a couple other licenses I had to file,” Pastor Blevins said. “I sent it by mistake. The whole thing was an accident—it was all my fault.”

But that didn't stop the couple from taking advantage of Providence. Brandenberger and McCoy, who've lived as husband and wife since the wedding, apparently decided that sometimes destiny just needs a little help.