A Christmas Bride (21 page)

“The opposition? Who is that, precisely?”

He stabbed his hand through his hair. “Look, Bill Cummins is going to challenge me in the primary. And he's just the kind of guy who will use this stuff to suggest that I have poor judgment or something. And, of course, it will come up again in the general election, but I'm less concerned about that. We can deflect the downside. All you have to do is walk away from the lawsuit.”

She took another step back, feeling as if she'd fallen into a trap that she should have seen from the start. Hadn't Corbin used exactly the same words when she'd come to him with her concerns about the defective hip replacements? “We can deflect the downside,” he'd said, “just keep your mouth shut.”

And if she'd done that, she just might have moved from being friends with benefits to being Mrs. Corbin Martinson. Corbin had been hinting about a deeper commitment. But, of course, she had to get in line and behave in order to win that particular prize.

This is how the world worked. You didn't get loved unless you behaved.

“No,” she said.

“No, what?”

“No, I'm not walking away, David. I'm not getting in line, or behaving the way your campaign handlers want me to behave. Damn. I should have known. Mom even warned me. David, this is who I am. Your parents despise me, your campaign people think I need to be managed, and you just want me to keep my mouth shut and behave. This isn't what I want.”

She walked right past him, her heart shattering into a million pieces. She had thought, maybe foolishly, that David Lyndon was ready to care about her—maybe even love her—for who she was, not what she did or how she behaved.

“Well, what the hell
do
you want?” he asked from behind.

She stopped and squeezed her eyes shut. He didn't really get it, did he? Not even after all those beautiful words he'd said on Wednesday morning. “If I have to explain that, David, then it's best if we part ways right now.”

She turned and faced him. “Am I still fired?”

“What? Yes, you're fired. I can't date an employee.”

“I don't want to date you. Haven't I made that clear?”

“Yes, abundantly.”

“So, am I still fired, or do you want me to continue to help you with the wedding?”

“Jesus, Willow, why are you being so difficult? Shelly was like this too.”

“Yeah, I bet she was. I just need to know whether you want me to finish what I started or not.”

“Christ, of course I want you to finish what you started.”

“Okay. Fine.” She turned and stalked away into the woods.

He followed her. “Willow?” he said when they finally made it back to the inn. It was almost dusk, and he had the nerve to sound confused about what had just happened. “Stop. We need to talk.”

She turned around. “No, we don't. And in case you're confused, here is precisely what I'm thinking right now. Go run for Congress, David. It's what you were born to do and what you want. You'll make a good politician. But don't try to turn me into a shadow of myself just to please the voters or your family or your campaign manager. It won't work. I will disappoint you. And last night's meltdown should be warning enough of what's in store. Do you really want to put Natalie through all that? Because, here's the thing, David: I love your daughter, and I sure as hell don't want another episode like last night's. And if I become your friend with benefits, that's exactly what's going to happen.”

She turned away again, ran to her car, and peeled out of the driveway before he could see that he'd once again reduced her to tears.

F
or a few days in early December, David had managed to ignore the advent calendar in his head. But when Willow walked away from him, he awakened from his foolish dreams, took a look at the date on his Movado watch, and realized that he was coming up hard and fast on the two-year anniversary of Shelly's death.

And this year he felt more alone than ever.

Which was odd, because he didn't mind being alone.

Last year the weather had turned warm, and he'd spent the day alone out on the run with his fly rod and a bottle of Maker's Mark. He hadn't landed any trout, just a killer hangover. But at least he hadn't spent the day having to accept people's condolences. He hated that more than anything.

There wouldn't be any fishing this year. A Canadian high had swooped down on Shenandoah Falls, providing endless blue skies and sending daytime temperatures plummeting into the twenties. He also didn't have the luxury of crawling into a bottle somewhere private.

This year, the anniversary of Shelly's death fell on the day before Jeff and Melissa's wedding, so David's attendance was required at the Presbyterian church for the rehearsal and then at the big rehearsal dinner Mother and Nina had planned at Charlotte's Grove. With all the excitement, he wouldn't be the center of attention this year. People had probably forgotten that it was the anniversary of Shelly's death.

Which was fine. He would remember. Let everyone else go celebrate and leave him alone. He was better when people left him alone, anyway.

The rehearsal was scheduled for five in the afternoon, which gave him just enough time to pick up Natalie from school.

“Will Miss Willow be at the party?” she asked as he pulled away from the school pickup area.

“No,” he said, as he took the turn onto Washington Avenue. He glanced in the rearview mirror just in time to see the sadness in his daughter's dark eyes.

Damnit. Willow said she had Natalie's best interests in mind, but it was hard to see how that was the case. For a solid week Willow had managed to avoid both of them while still fulfilling her contract with him. The public spaces of the inn never looked better. There was Christmas crap draped over every inch of the inside and the outside. The lawn had been mowed, the overgrown bushes trimmed, the kitchen polished and shined.

In fact, the inn showed so well that Bryce Summerville had just made an offer on the place that was only a few grand below asking price. David hadn't accepted the offer yet. He'd made a promise to Willow that he wouldn't sell the inn until after the wedding, and he aimed to keep that promise.

He was hoping she'd find an investor. But according to Gracie, Willow had all but given up looking for one. No doubt Gracie had imparted that piece of information in order to make him feel guilty. Grace seemed to be on a one-woman mission to change the town's opinion of Willow, but he was already a believer.

Willow was the one who didn't believe.

He made the turn through the stone gates of Greenwood Cemetery and glanced in the mirror again. Natalie sat up straighter. “Are we visiting Mommy?” she asked.

A lump formed in his throat. “Yeah,” he said. “It's December eighteenth. Two years ago today Mommy went to heaven.”

“Oh. I didn't remember.”

“I know. It's okay. It's my job to remember for you.”

He drove up the gravel drive to a sloping spot under a stand of cedars. He opened the door for Natalie and then pulled the small Christmas wreath from the back of the SUV.

“That's pretty,” Natalie said. “Mommy will like it. She loved Christmas.”

“Yeah.” He took Natalie's hand and they walked up the hill until they came to the granite headstone with Shelly's name on it. The pot of mums that Poppy had probably put there last fall had died. He moved them aside and cleared the area of a few dead leaves before he put the wreath against the headstone.

They stood there in silence for a while, as he let his mind drift back to that day when he'd stood at the front of St. Thomas' Parish in Washington, DC, and watched her come down the aisle, carrying orchids, wearing a veil and a dress with a killer neckline.

He'd been so in love with her that day. He'd expected to be with her for the rest of his life. But it hadn't worked out that way.

“Miss Willow.” Natalie's voice pulled him out of his misery. He turned to find Willow, wearing her big winter coat, climbing up the hill. She had a bouquet of evergreen in her hand.

Natalie ran down the hill and tackled her, wrapping her arms around her middle. One of Willow's hands came to rest on Natalie's head, and she closed her eyes tight, as if she were drinking in the child's hug.

Damnit. Why were they not together?

He knew the answer. Standing here by Shelly's grave, he understood. He wondered, sourly, if the epitaph on his tombstone would read: “He was a Lyndon; he made sacrifices.”

Willow squatted down to be on Natalie's level as she spoke with his daughter. David couldn't hear what she said, but Natalie's head bobbed up and down and a serious, almost sad, look stole over her face. It broke his heart.

He turned and strolled away from Shelly's grave, angry and alone and powerless to change the course of his life.

He gave Willow and Natalie a few more minutes before he called Natalie. She gave Willow another big hug before she came down the hill to the car.

“Daddy,” she said, as she climbed into the backseat. “Miss Willow didn't forget about Mommy. She told me that Mommy would be watching me tomorrow from heaven and that she would be proud of me.”

He nodded. “Miss Willow is a very wise person.” He shut the car door and looked up the hill where Willow stood, shoulders straight, hands jammed into her pockets, head bowed. He wanted to walk up that hill and pull her into his arms.

But he couldn't do that. Everything she'd said to him last week made sense. It would never work between them, not if he ran for Congress.

The rest of his life beckoned. He ought to get on with living it.

Alone.

It had been sheer bad luck running into Natalie and David at the cemetery. But if Willow had thought things through, she would have visited the grave in the morning, when David was at work and Natalie was at school.

But she'd been so busy this morning with the final details of the wedding. At the inn, she and Dusty had set up the table rounds, and then she and Mrs. M had draped them all in creamy linens and old lace. The evergreen and red rose centerpieces would be delivered tomorrow morning. Antonin, the longtime chef at the inn, had arrived two days ago and taken care of getting all of the dishes and silverware washed and all of the food purchased. Tomorrow morning he would arrive early with a group of handpicked sous chefs, all of whom had worked for Mrs. M over the years. Later in the day a group of former waitstaff would arrive to set the tables and set up the bar. Every i had been dotted, every t crossed. There would be no drama tomorrow at the reception.

Willow had also spent a lot of time over the last few days with the Presbyterian altar ladies because the decorations for Melissa's wedding would serve double-duty on Christmas Eve. The altar was now flanked by two ten-foot Douglas firs that had been freshly cut at the Snicker's Gap Christmas Tree Farm not far away. The trees had been hung with large white, silver, and gold stars. Baby's breath tucked between the branches gave the appearance of snow, while vintage chandelier crystals at the ends of the branches shimmered like icicles.

Tomorrow evening those crystals would sparkle in the candlelight. Dozens of candles would be placed on the Communion table, fat column candles in glass lanterns would line the aisle, and twelve four-foot wrought-iron candleholders would be placed around the sanctuary. In addition, every wedding guest would be given a small candle to light at the appropriate time.

When Jeff and Melissa said their vows, the sanctuary would be bathed in romantic candlelight.

But right now the church was relying on electricity, as the members of the wedding party arrived for the rehearsal. Willow tried to stay in the background as much as possible, deferring to Reverend Gladwin, who had officiated at hundreds of weddings.

She was fine hanging back in the narthex where she'd be stationed tomorrow evening, making sure that everyone who was supposed to get down the aisle did so at the right moment.

For now she was trying hard to avoid members of the Lyndon family, most especially David. Seeing him and Natalie at the cemetery had ripped her apart. The next twenty-four hours or so were going to be ridiculously hard. And then she could walk away and figure out her next steps. She had a couple of job interviews lined up next week—for glorified secretarial positions.

Pam Lyndon came into the church with her husband and another man who looked enough like Senator Lyndon to be one of his brothers. Willow could recognize Charles and James Lyndon on sight, so this guy must be Thomas. Jeff's dad.

Well, now she knew where he got his height from. Nina Talbert was in the next wave of guests. Followed by Melissa, Courtney, Arwen, and Jeff—the first friendly faces to arrive. The girls surrounded her with happy smiles, each of them giving her a big hug and thanking her for all her hard work. Jeff hung back, staring down into the sanctuary where his parents were waiting for his arrival.

“Into the fray,” he muttered.

Melissa snorted and took his arm. “Relax. It's going to be fine,” she said as she tugged him down the aisle. If only Willow were as brave as Melissa. If only David were as independent as Jeff.

But neither of those things were true. And besides, Jeff and Melissa didn't have to worry about an eight-year-old child or a congressional career.

Willow was thinking hard about Natalie when Gracie Teague arrived, still wearing her waitress uniform under her coat. “God bless,” she said, huffing and puffing. “I didn't think I was going to ever get away from the diner. Anna was late, as always. I had to decide which would be the bigger embarrassment, showing up in my uniform or being late.”

“Don't be ashamed of your uniform, Gracie.”

Gracie stopped before she headed down the aisle and turned toward Willow. “Girl, why are you hiding back here?”

“Because I'm the wedding planner. And, to be honest, those people down there at the front of the church don't like me much, and I don't want to make a scene on Melissa's big day.”

“I hear you, and I understand. But sooner or later someone needs to make a scene. Honey, that man has been walking around the last week looking like the end-times are upon us and he's not getting a ticket to heaven.”

“Which man?”

Gracie gave her one of those matronly looks. “You know good and well who I'm talking about. And if I'm not supposed to be ashamed of my uniform, then you shouldn't be ashamed of what you've done—standing up for a bunch of old folks who got crappy hip replacements. Hon, in some quarters that makes you a hero.”

“Thanks.”

“Yeah, well, I'm not done with you yet, you hear?” She turned and headed down the aisle with her head held high. Melissa greeted her with a gigantic hug. Nina Talbert and Thomas Lyndon gave Gracie the expected superior looks.

“Where in the name of heaven is my son?” Pam said in a worried voice.

Oh great, David and Natalie were still missing. After ten minutes of waiting, Melissa finally came sprinting back to the narthex. “We can't do this without the best man. Can you give him a call?” She didn't wait for a response but turned and sprinted back down the aisle.

Great. David was the last person on earth Willow wanted to call. But she whipped out her cell and hit the speed dial. The call went to voice mail. She left a message and then sent him an urgent text, followed by an e-mail. Then she forced herself to walk down the aisle as everyone on the Lyndon side of the church looked at her. She approached Pam and said, “I've left a message for David. He didn't pick up when I called.”

“Where could that boy be?” Pam said, throwing her hands into the air.

“Chill,” the senator said in a firm voice, and Willow kind of wanted to give the man a hug. She didn't think anyone ever told Pam Lyndon to chill. But apparently Mark Lyndon wasn't cowed by his wife. Good for him.

“Do you know where he is?” Pam demanded.

“Uh, no. I saw him about an hour ago out at Greenwood Cemetery. Natalie was with him. She wasn't dressed for tonight, though.”

“He went to the cemetery?” Pam asked. “Doesn't he know we're trying to put on a wedding?”

“Uh, well, um, maybe you forgot, but today is the two-year anniversary of Shelly's death. I don't know for certain, but I'm pretty sure he's not having a real good day.”

There was a collective in-drawing of breath. Had all of these people forgotten? She wanted to yell at them, but that would be a career nonstarter, so she turned and headed back to the shelter of the narthex.

Behind her the minister said, “Well, why don't I get started and we can fill him in when he gets here.”

“But the flower girl is with him,” Melissa said in a slightly panicky voice. “And it's really important that Natalie gets to run through this at least once. You know, she's only eight, and I don't want her to freak out tomorrow during the ceremony.”

Reverend Gladwin had a lot of experience dealing with panicky brides. He gave Melissa a gentle smile. “Don't worry. It will all work out, and Natalie will be fine.”

Five minutes later David and Natalie arrived with expressions on their faces that said it all. Father and daughter were not speaking. Natalie looked as if she'd been crying, and David's jaw was set, his eyes dark and angry.

Natalie saw her standing in the narthex and rushed right into her, just like she'd done at the cemetery earlier that afternoon. She buried her head into Willow's midsection and set off a cascade of emotions that knocked Willow for a loop. She truly loved this little girl, and it slayed her to see her so unhappy on a day that should have been joyous.