Flower Girl Bride (10 page)

“Maybe.”

“I don't think we'd sell many cards.”

“Oh, I would. I'm an overachiever, remember?”

“I forgot.”

I paused, needing to find a smooth segue into the subject that really mattered, but there wasn't one. Still, it had to be said. “Doesn't it get exhausting?”

“What?”

“Carrying around all that guilt with you on top of that chip you already have on your shoulder.”

When he turned to plant his feet on the deck and
crossed his arms, I realized I could have started off more gently. Just another reminder that diplomacy wasn't my strong suit.

“Listen, you keep beating yourself up for something that wasn't even your fault. When you're not doing that, you're killing yourself trying to prove you're not a failure when the only person who ever thought so isn't here to see it.”

I should have stopped there. I was in way over my head, and I knew it. Hadn't I learned my lesson the first time when I'd nosed into Luke's business and he'd all but told me to take my advice and shove it?

It would be easier to just back down, to find some way to smooth over this conversation and make nice before Luke pulled anchor and dropped me back at the beach. But I'd spent a lifetime trying not to make waves, and here I was rocking the boat…literally.

Come to think of it, I'd been different with Luke from the beginning, more invested, even when I'd had no right to be. I still didn't have the right, but the words burned inside me. Maybe I needed to say them as much as he needed to hear them.

“Don't you see it, Luke? You're not lacking something. You never were. You're wonderful just the way you are.”

His arms still crossed, Luke started shaking his head, as if he was unwilling to hear what I had to say. Why couldn't he see what I saw, what probably everyone saw except for the one woman who'd promised to love and honor him for life?

“It was Nicole who couldn't see it,” I said before I could stop myself. “You're an amazing father and a
strong, caring man. You're even a man of faith who has the courage to admit you still question.”

He leaned forward now, elbows on his knees and his hands gripped together, but he was still shaking his head. “You're wrong about me, Cassie. I'm none of those things.”

“You're all of those things. I see it. And she was a fool not to.”

Once the words were out of my mouth, my breath hitched. The cat was so out of the bag, and there wasn't any easy way to shove it in again. It was so close to what he'd said to me, and I still figured his comment was three-quarters pity and one-quarter his just being a nice guy.

Worse yet, in the fervor of my speech, I'd planted my feet on the deck and faced him, leaning closer so that now no more than a foot separated us.

For several seconds, neither of us spoke. We didn't move, either, if you didn't count the way I was wringing my hands together as if one just might squeeze the life out of the other.

I could only imagine what he saw when he looked at me. I had to be humiliation personified. No one else needed to let him know about my growing feelings for him when I'd just gone and outed myself. Luke only looked bewildered, as if he'd like to believe what I'd said but couldn't take the leap.

I started to pull away, going for any exit when a graceful one hadn't been possible since I'd said, “I see it.” Probably long before. But Luke reached for my hands, taking them sweetly in his. Luke's hands were warm and strong and roughened by honest work.

That same tingly sensation I remembered from when we'd brushed hands the night of my aunt's wedding party spread in my fingertips, but I felt more than that. There was a warm constancy to his touch, and I felt the rightness in our gentle connection.

Maybe Luke felt the same pull that I did, the need for closeness that I'd sensed from the moment we'd met for the first time as adults.

Would his arms make me feel as safe as his hands already had? Would I finally be able to sink into a man's arms and feel certain that he would catch me if I fell? I waited, hoping he would draw me near.

Luke didn't move. “Thank you” was all he said.

I blinked and shook my head to get my bearings straight. Had I misread this whole situation? Had he just reached out to me in gratitude for my kindness and I'd manufactured a romantic scenario out of that simple gesture?

Now I was really humiliated. I needed to rock the boat, all right. Hard. So I could fall overboard and let the water swallow me with one freshwater gulp.

“What is it?” Luke was looking at me strangely. “Don't you want me to kiss you, Cassie?”

What?
I cleared my throat. “No…I mean yes…I mean no, I do.” Frustrated, I shook my head. “How am I supposed to answer a question like that?” How was I supposed to say anything at all with my heart staging its own Indianapolis 500 and my hands creating a second Lake Michigan? I started to pull my damp hands free, but he pressed his thumbs into my palms and kept holding on to me.

Luke's eyes were smiling before the expression moved to his mouth. “How about I pose it like I would have when we first met? Do you want to kiss me? Yes or no. Circle one.”

“Sorry, don't have a pencil right now, but yes.”

“I guess that will have to do.” Tugging gently on both of my hands, he pulled me forward until our heads were but a breath away. He paused for a heartbeat, or a thousand of them, and then covered my lips with his own.

Luke's kiss wasn't a dance of lips, vying for angle and tension. His lips merely sank into the cushioning of mine, and he remained there, warm and deeply present, as seconds ticked by. He tasted like cheese puffs and sunshine.

I had the oddest sensation of coming home, which didn't make sense because my apartment was more than two hundred miles away.

This was the same boy I'd kissed under the table at my aunt and uncle's wedding before I knew how precious and personal such a touch could be, the depth of emotion it could convey. This was the same man who'd told me he wasn't interested in dating anyone, let alone me. And this was the one man to whom I was in grave danger of losing my heart.

When he withdrew his head, he pressed his cheek against mine.

“What took you so long?” I breathed before my good sense returned. Just a first kiss, and already I was sounding like a demanding girlfriend.

His chuckle rumbled against my cheekbone. “Sorry. I was working up my courage.”

I pulled back and looked into his eyes to see if he was serious. “With me of all people.”

“You especially. You were the first girl I ever kissed.”

“Well, I would sure hope so unless you were scouring your preschool for dates.”

“Well…” The twinkle of confidence had returned to Luke's gaze, the spark that I hoped he would never lose again no matter what happened in the future.

I shook my head, trying to look disappointed. “And I thought I was special. I carried a basket of flowers and everything. I should have known.”

All the playfulness fled from his gaze, and his eyes darkened. “You do know, right? You're incredibly special.” Even as he said it, he lifted his hand and brushed his thumb across my lower lip. “So special.”

I couldn't help leaning in to the sweetness of his touch. So this was what it felt like to be cherished. I could get used to it if he kept touching me that way. Luke leaned so close that I could feel his warm breath feather across my mouth.

“I haven't touched anyone like this in…a long time,” he whispered.

“Me, neither,” I answered, though I understood that he was talking about since his wife died. So much pain and guilt had to have been enfolded in that comment, and I wished I could help him to toss it away once and for all.

“I haven't wanted to until now.”

“I'm glad,” I managed to get past the lump in my throat.

“So you really did want to spend time with me?”

Since I'd been closing my eyelids in a huge hint that I wouldn't mind being kissed again, my eyes fluttered
open. “What?” I cleared my throat as I leaned back in the seat. “What are you saying?”

His chuckle baffled me as much as his question. A lifetime of insecurities filtered through my thoughts. Finally, he took mercy on me and answered.

“Do you know how lousy a person can feel when he's jealous of his own son?”

“Why would you be jealous of Sam?”

“Because of you.”

“You're kidding, right?” But even as I asked it, I sensed that he wasn't.

“He is a pretty cute kid. And it wouldn't be the first time a woman has hung around a guy to be with his kid.”

Only because he was a miniature replica of his daddy, I wanted to say but didn't. I was a chicken to the core. Still, I had to make my interest in Luke clear to him.

“I guess I did like Sam better at first.” I shook my index finger at him. “You weren't exactly nice to me the night of the rehearsal dinner.”

“And now?”

“You've been very nice to me lately.”

“You know what I meant,” he said with frown.

I nodded because I did. “Now,” I repeated, my pulse sprinting. Could I say it? Was I brave enough to risk everything by telling him the truth? Probably not, but I decided to fake it. “Now I still think Sam is great, but I'm pretty crazy about his dad.”

Luke stared at me for several seconds, making me wonder if I should have done us both a favor and kept my feelings to myself.

Then, without preamble, Luke leaned across the aisle, slanted his lips across mine and kissed me again and again, his fingers curling into the hair at my crown. The moment I was over my surprise, I was kissing him back with just as much intensity, my hands clasped at the back of his neck.

I felt so precious in Luke's arms, so valued. I had this heady understanding that at least one man didn't think of me as second best.

When he finally pulled slightly away and pressed his forehead to mine, I was embarrassed to be out of breath. His breathing wasn't exactly regular, either.

“That was nice,” he whispered.

“A little too nice.”

“Maybe.”

As if we'd timed our movements, we both pulled back then, retreating to our opposite sides of the boat and glancing around us. Somehow I hadn't noticed it before, but we were the only boat anchored in view of this stretch of shoreline, and though it was an incredibly beautiful June day, this part of the beach was deserted. Our boat appeared to be encapsulated by water and sky and sand.

We were alone. Too alone for a couple as attracted to each other as we were. Neither of us were innocents; we'd both been married before. And we'd both been lonely for a long time. We needed to take hold of our good sense before this situation got out of hand.

Just as I started turning back Luke's way, I sensed movement to my right. The boat dipped as he climbed through the door in the windshield and started pulling
back in the anchor. When he sensed my gaze on him, he turned back to me.

“It's time for us to get back,” he said.

“Probably.”

A grin pulled at his lips. “No, absolutely.”

I nodded. “Sam has to be missing you, anyway.”

He laughed at that. “You're joking, right? Mom has probably been plying him with ice cream and candy all afternoon, and she'll give him back to me in a sugar haze.”

“She wouldn't do that, would she?”

Luke seemed to consider for a few seconds before he grinned and shook his head. “She's usually more worried about his teeth than I am.”

He turned his attention to pulling the anchor over the side of the boat. Immediately, the rocking that had come from the boat pulling against its anchor transformed to the gentle sway of the waves themselves.

As he climbed into the cockpit, he looked back at me again. “Besides, she wouldn't want to do anything to mess up her matchmaking scheme.”

“She and Aunt Eleanor have worked too hard at it to ruin their plans now,” I agreed, relieved he'd chosen another safe topic. He seemed as reluctant as I was to discuss the physical awareness between us that seemed to have surprised him as much as it had me.

Luke started up the boat again though he allowed it to idle until I'd moved through the windshield door and had taken the seat next to him.

Luke glanced back at me over his shoulder. “Cassie, I don't want to do anything to mess this up, either.”

I
awoke to the sounds of thunder early Monday morning, but even a storm couldn't dampen my sunny outlook. This wasn't California, after all. I had to expect a little rain to fall here sooner or later, and I'd seen nothing but sunshine since I'd arrived.

Besides, Mom had always said that if I didn't like the Michigan weather, I needed to wait fifteen minutes for it to change. On that at least, Mom had always been right. I could remember times in my childhood when we'd seen sunshine and rain and snow, all on the same day.

Climbing out of bed, I padded to the window and glanced out at the dark, angry sky. Since my window was at the front of the house, I couldn't see the water, but I guessed that it was just as dark and just as furious. I expected to see all kinds of nasty weather today, possibly even a water funnel coming off the lake. Even if my salvation was sure so I was technically ready to die, I wasn't a big fan of the idea this morning.

Especially not after my wonderful Sunday with
Luke. That was selfish, and I knew it, just as it was more than a little self-serving for me to hope that God hadn't scheduled Jesus's Second Coming for today, when this thing between Luke and me was still so new.

With so many Christians in the world—so many births, graduations, wedding days and budding romances—God could hardly work around everybody's schedules. I realized that, but that still didn't keep me from hoping this day wasn't
the
day.

On the likely chance that it wasn't, I put on my slippers, preparing to go down and feed Princess. She would be disappointed that it was me feeding her instead of her hero Luke, who'd fed her dinner last night before he left, but she was just going to have to deal with it.

Thirteen days and count—

I stopped myself. Who was I kidding? I no longer wanted to count the days until I could leave this place. That would mean leaving Luke and Sam. I couldn't help smiling as the perfect day Luke and I had spent together seeped into my thoughts. My heart warmed over the laughter and deep conversations we'd shared. My cheeks heated when my thoughts turned to the kisses.

I didn't even have to wonder when I would see him next. He'd phoned last night just as I'd crawled into bed to invite me on a dinnertime fast-food picnic tonight at the park. That same jolt of excitement I'd felt when Luke's rich baritone voice had come through the telephone line filled me again.

Did he think if he waited until this morning to call
that I'd be all booked up? I laughed out loud at that as I descended the steps. I didn't know anyone in Mantua who didn't attend Lakeside Community Chapel, and the selection of single men younger than sixty at the church was limited at best.

“Yes, offers are just coming out of the walls,” I said aloud since no one was there to contradict me.

There was only one offer that I was interested in, anyway, and today that meant chowing on burgers and fries and waiting for the first ant to arrive at the picnic.

It was Luke who'd suggested that we plan something with Sam this time. With as much giddy anticipation as I was feeling though our date was still hours away, I figured his idea was a good one. We needed a chaperone.

The silly image of a four-year-old chaperone and his two thirty-year-old charges made me smile again. How I was going to be able to fill my day until our date I didn't know. I hadn't been this excited for a date since…well never.

From the cabinet I retrieved a can of salmon delight cat food and stood over the sink to open the pop-top lid. I made that clicking noise in my mouth, just as I'd heard Luke do. I didn't know why I bothered. Just because it had worked for him didn't mean Princess would deign to take pity on me.

It didn't matter, anyway. She was eating, drinking and visiting her litter box on a regular basis, so everything was fine. I'd fulfilled my obligations to humans and felines, even if Princess and I hadn't become the great friends Aunt Eleanor expected we would.

“Here kit-kit-kit,” I called out of habit, knowing full well she wouldn't come.

Even if she didn't, Princess wasn't all bad. I might not have been her favorite person, but she had yet to put a single scratch on me, even when I'd been asleep and probably a tempting target. I wasn't ready to say she was a real
princess
or anything, but maybe I'd exaggerated her murderous tendencies the teeniest bit.

Only thirteen more days and my aunt and uncle would be returning from their trip to care for their little darling. They would expect me to go home when they did. I couldn't break my promise to Uncle Jack and be the houseguest who wouldn't leave, either.

But I didn't want to leave. Not yet.

Luke had said he didn't want to do anything to
mess this up
between us. I understood that he'd been talking at least in part about physical intimacy, but had he meant more than that? What was the “this” between us? Was it something worth pursuing?

I stopped myself before my crazy imagination could travel any further. Was I really thinking of something as outrageous as a future between Luke and me? Beyond being too soon to consider such a thing, I understood it wasn't possible. I had my life in Toledo, my job, my students and my friends. Luke had just as much here in Mantua. He had a job where he felt valued and a home near his parents so he had loving child care for Sam.

This thing between us had mistake written all over it. It had an expiration date as clear as is printed on a gallon of milk and a lot more final. Even the milk had a few days of life beyond the final sale date.

Thirteen days and holding.

Something brushed my ankle then, and I let out a yelp before I could stop myself. At my feet was none other than Princess herself, looking up at me with intense green eyes. If my outburst had frightened her at all, she didn't show it but only meowed pitiably and started weaving in and out between my legs the way she'd done to Luke.

“Now you decide to come to me, you silly girl.” Briefly, I considered bending to pet her or turning on the faucet for her but decided against both. That would be too much too soon, and as Luke had recommended, I didn't want to seem too desperate. Princess would only run away, and we'd be back to square one.

The cat stopped to eye me again and then continued weaving figure eights, her soft fur tickling my ankles. I couldn't believe it. What had happened to the hissing, spitting monster that had been alone with me in the house for more than a week?

Again, she meowed as if she'd lost her best friend.

“I suppose you're wanting your breakfast.”

I emptied the can of food into her special bowl and set it on her place mat. She sauntered over for one of her sniff-and-ignore sessions, but when she reached the bowl, she dug in. I couldn't believe my eyes.

“Boy, you were hungry, weren't you? Does that taste pretty good?” I crooned.

I would have turned a cartwheel right then and there, that is if I'd ever been able to do a cartwheel that didn't end up as a splat on the floor. This wasn't a major accomplishment; I realized that. Cats ate when they were hungry. But after all this time Princess had chosen to eat for me.

Was it because she finally realized I wasn't going anywhere—for now—and she'd just better get used to me? Funny, I sensed that wasn't it, that instead she was taking pity on me.

I would have dismissed the thought for the ridiculous notion it was, but Luke's image popped into my head again. I was in a vulnerable place with Luke Sheridan. This could only end badly. People were going to get hurt when it did.

I was on shaky ground, and I knew it. If I didn't know better I would say that Princess knew it, too.

 

The last Wednesday before I was to leave Mantua, I had just settled back for another one of those amazing afternoon naps on my aunt and uncle's deck lounger when the phone rang. Without getting up I reached for the portable handset on the table next to me alongside the lidded cup of lemonade, spray bottle filled with water, an individually packaged snack bar, bug spray and a container of sunscreen.

I was nothing if not Johnny-on-the-spot prepared with my table of provisions after more than two weeks of good practice. It took preparation to make sure a good beach bum afternoon wasn't spoiled by the need to go in too soon.

“Hudson residence, Cassie speaking,” I said into the receiver, not jumping to any conclusions about who would be on the other end. Lately, the caller was just as likely to be Luke as my aunt. More likely. At least once every day, he called to make plans for that evening, and every night after he went home, he would phone just to
say good-night. Sometimes he phoned for no reason at all in the middle of the day. A woman could get used to that kind of attention.

“Cassie, it's so good to hear your voice.”

“Uncle Jack?” My uncle's voice had me springing up in my seat. “Has something happened to Aunt Eleanor?”

“Of course not. Why would you think that?”

Uh, because you haven't liked to talk on the phone in all the years I've known you,
I somehow managed not to say. “I just usually talk to Aunt Eleanor.”

“She's just…ah…busy.”

At first, I thought my uncle sounded strange. Then the thought struck me that if Uncle Jack was calling, he just wanted to be in charge of flight details.
Return flight details.
I'd been hiding from it for as long as I could, but here was proof that my time with Luke was running out, and there wasn't a thing I could do to stop it.

Four days and holding.

But since no matter how hard I held on, time wasn't going to stop for me, I braced my hand on the lounger's armrest and prepared to learn the information I didn't want to hear.

“Will you need me to pick you up at the airport Sunday, or do you have a ride?”

He didn't answer immediately, but I could hear muffled voices as if he'd covered the phone. “You know, I was thinking that…ah…your aunt and I haven't really had the chance to do Paris up right.”

I frowned into the phone. “What?”

He cleared his throat. “You know, we haven't even
had the chance to see the Mona Lycee at the Loo and the Champs of Lisa yet.”

I couldn't help laughing, though I still couldn't understand what he was getting at. “You mean the ‘Mona Lisa' at the Louvre and the Champs d' Elysée, right?”

“Yeah, sure.”

He coughed, making me wonder if he was getting sick from all that European air.

“Anyway,” he began, “we were thinking about extending our trip a bit.”

My chest tightened, and suddenly I was the one having trouble getting an answer out. “How long were you thinking?”

“Not much. Just another two weeks. But only if it's okay with you to stay a little longer.”

“Oh no. I don't think that will be a problem.”

When the line went quiet, I realized I'd responded too soon, been too anxious to take them up on their offer.

“I wouldn't want you two to miss any of the sights while you're in Paris,” I hurried on to cover the awkward silence. “Like the Louvre.”

“Oh, good, I'm sure we'll have time to see all the rest of the sights by then,” he told me.

Come to think of it, how could anyone have spent three weeks in Paris and not made it to one of the most famous museums in the world? I'd been had again and this time by my uncle, but I knew who'd put him up to it.

“So is Aunt Eleanor still…ah…busy?” I had a good
idea what she'd been busy doing before: egging my uncle on in the newest chapter of this matchmaking scheme.

“No, she's…uh…done now.” In another rustle of movement and voices, he handed my aunt the phone.

“Hello, sweetie. How's my girl?”

“Which one?” I asked, repeating the same tired joke we'd shared nearly every time she'd called.

“The human one.”

“She's good.”

“Then how's my kitty.”

I was tempted to tell her that Princess had eaten the neighbor's parakeet and had been on the lam for two days, but right now I was too curious what my aunt would say once we got past the preliminaries. “She's fine.”

The fact was Princess and I were getting on pretty well now. She came right out whenever I popped open a can of food and ate most of it without any complaint. Or rather not many complaints—she was a cat after all, and finicky was built into her DNA.

Occasionally, she even rubbed up against my calves when she thought it might hurry up her dinner. She still hadn't chosen to drink from the faucet for me, and petting her was out of the question, but the kitty had her standards, and I could live with that.

“My Jack tells me you're going to stay a little longer for us. Thanks so much for that.”

“Not a problem,” I answered though I should have been thanking her.

“We'll come back on Friday the seventh, but we want you to stay at least until Sunday the ninth, so we can spend some time with you.”

Two extra weeks—it wasn't forever, but it was something. Still, I was dying to know where this most recent development had originated. “Have you talked to Yvonne lately?”

Aunt Eleanor laughed into the phone. “She's my best friend. I talk to her all the time. Why do you ask?”

I answered her question with a question. “What'd she tell you?”

“Let me see…that the west Michigan weather has been beautiful. That she misses us terribly.”

My aunt stopped when I cleared my throat. I didn't need to clarify what I was really asking, but she gave an answer I wasn't expecting.

“She said she saw you in church. Twice.”

“That's right. I've been thinking about a lot of things since coming here.”

“It is a great place for meditating.”

I murmured an agreement, closing my eyes and breathing the place in once again.