Tapestry of Trust (23 page)

He breathed a little easier when Isabelle, along with the rest of the wedding party, took a seat at the head table. He adjusted his tie. Soon everyone would be mingling. He would be ready.

“There you are stranger.” A sultry voice rose above the hubbub. Unfortunately, one he recognized. One of the bridesmaids.

He turned to his left and forced a smile. “Good evening, Abby. How are you?”

Ignoring his question, she moved in, giving him a lazy grin. “Right handsome. You sure clean up nice.”

He inched back. “Thank you. Everyone looks nice tonight.”

She tossed her hair back and bent forward exposing a bit too much cleavage. “Yes, they do. Lovely wedding, isn’t it?”

“Very nice.” His gave a slight nod, slid his gaze past Abby and back to Isabelle at the head table. She leaned in her chair to speak to Kate. What a beautiful maid of honor. She would make an even more beautiful bride. Something he intended to diligently work on.

“Mark and Kate are so happy. So nice they found each other, don’t you think?” Abby’s whispered question interrupted his musings.

He nodded again, which only fueled Abby’s babbling. He listened a moment more, then cleared his throat. “If you’ll excuse me. I’m—”

“How about a dance before the floor gets too crowded?” Abby swayed back and forth to the beat of the music, ogling him like a love-sick teen.

“No, thank you.” He gestured toward a table by the buffet. “A lot of other guys are here. I’m sure one of them would love to dance with you.”

“Oh, Charlie.” Abby giggled. “I’m not giving up that easy. I bet you’re a great dancer.” She grabbed his hand.

Charlie jerked it back and shoved it in his pocket. “No, but thank you, Abby.”

She frowned at him. He pretended not to notice.

Fortunately a couple of his grad school buddies walked over.

“So, Charlie.” Brian slapped him on the shoulder. “How is the job going?”

A new dilemma. How to balance a three-way conversation, avoid Abby’s roaming paws, and still keep an eye on Isabelle.

****

Isabelle blinked at yet another camera flash.

The photographer motioned with his head. “OK, let’s have the maid of honor with the bride.”

She sidled up to Kate, pasted on a smile, and willed herself not to blink. She saw spots for a moment, blinked anyway then refocused. She gave Kate a quick hug. “Do you mind if I mingle?”

“Go right ahead.” Her friend glowed. As Isabelle turned to leave, Kate snagged her forearm. She looked back. “First dibs on matron of honor.” Kate eyed her with that knowing look of hers.

Isabelle chose not to answer. A relationship with Charlie was far more complicated then Kate would imagine, particularly with Sharon Hamilton involved.

Isabelle gathered her skirt and walked down the stage steps to the ballroom floor, her mind occupied with thoughts of her meeting with Sharon the next week. What could the woman possibly want to talk about?

After running every scenario imaginable around in her head, one logical explanation remained. Sharon expected to defend Erica’s motives and dissuade Isabelle.

Only speculation, but the thought was unsettling.

Breathing deep, she told herself to focus on two things. One, the past was behind her and she had nothing to fear. Secondly, she loved Charlie.
God will take care of the rest,
she chanted. Something she believed with all her heart. Ironically, the same heart hammering double-time against her ribs.

She tried to ignore it and scanned the crowded room. She spotted Charlie near the exit talking with friends. Holding her head high, she feigned calm and started to walk toward him.

“Isabelle, there you are.”

She froze mid-step, halfway across the reception hall. Mrs. Johnson neared, huffing a bit as she walked.

“Whew.” Mrs. Johnson fanned her face with one of Kate and Mark’s embossed wedding napkins. “So many guests to talk to.” She beamed.

Pride was written all other her smiling face. She couldn’t be more proud of Mark and his bride, Kate.

Isabelle deflated a little. Sharon Hamilton couldn’t have been more disappointed when Charlie dated her. Hardly the makings of a wonderful mother-in-law.

“Now, Isabelle, as maid of honor, you need to get out there and socialize.”

“Of course.” Isabelle agreed, swallowing a sigh.

“We can’t expect Mark and Kate to speak to everyone. With pictures and—”

Isabelle squeezed Mrs. Johnson’s hand, striving to change the subject. “Everything looks lovely and the
food
is delicious.” Mrs. Johnson’s pet project. Kate’s pet headache.

“Thank you.” Mrs. Johnson puffed out her chest. “It’s been a job. I hope Kate likes all we’ve done.”

“Kate is very pleased…with everything. I better mingle. You, too.” She spun away, before Mrs. Johnson thought of something else for her to do.

Isabelle pushed forward, watching as Charlie nodded good-bye to his friends. When he turned and waved at her, wearing a big grin on his face, she gathered he hadn’t changed his mind about her. About them. She liked that. She really did.

Two paces from Charlie, she stopped.

“Isabelle, you look beautiful.” His brown eyes found hers. She shivered.

“Charlie…” She wanted to tell him he looked nice as well. Before she could, one of the bridesmaids, Abby hooked an arm through his.

“Where do you think you’re going, Tiger? We haven’t danced yet.”

Isabelle tried to keep a straight face at Charlie’s startled expression. “Abby, I’m—”

As a matter of duty, Isabelle cut in. “I’m sorry, Abby. Charlie promised me this dance.”
Par.
She’d now rescued him twice.

With a nod, Charlie stepped to her. Put out his hand. “The dance floor beckons, my love.”

My love?
Oh, dear. She felt a prickling of nerves tingle up her arms. Regardless of what she wanted, of what she felt, doubts flooded her like a ruptured dam.

She glanced down at his hand then into his eyes. “All right.” She said numbly, taking his hand. She made it all the way to the dance floor before she took a breath. This trust thing was harder than she thought.

Her nerves abated somewhat when Charlie pulled her close. As they started to dance, she closed her eyes, placed her head on his chest. The years seemed to melt away—all the hurt. All the pain. She felt safe. In his arms. In his presence. She was eighteen again.

Charlie tightened his arms around her. She could feel the kick of his heart against hers. “I love you, Belle.” He whispered, skimming a kiss across her temple.

He’d said it all. Exactly what she was feeling. Exactly what she wanted to hear—nonetheless uncontrollable fear, more powerful than her will to stay rational, welled up inside her. She needed air.

****

Charlie watched as Isabelle hurried across the hall and out the French doors. As much as he hated it, he knew she needed a moment alone. He moved off the dance floor to wait. The last strains of the song lingered in the air then faded away.

Long enough, he decided.

Charlie stepped onto the patio and into the night. For several beats he stood there, looking across the moonlit grounds, past manicured bushes, statues, and benches situated beneath the tall trees. A burst of dread swept through him, then quickly, subsided when he spotted Isabelle by the pond.

Without hesitation, he took off across the grass and eased up beside her. “You OK?”

Isabelle kept quiet.

He cleared his throat, tried again. “Isabelle.”

This time she turned to him. She smiled a little. “Sorry, I
needed to think.”

“Thinking’s OK.”

She met his eyes, nodded. “This isn’t easy.”

“It’s not. But, it is worth pursuing.”

She hesitated then nodded.

Charlie took Isabelle’s hand, brushing his lips over her palm.

****

Wednesday morning after the wedding, Isabelle jumped into her car and headed for Tenille’s Café. She prayed for no traffic. The last thing she wanted was to show up late for her
appointment
with Sharon Hamilton.

Isabelle glanced at the dashboard clock as she pulled into the parking lot. Ten fifty-nine. One minute to spare. She mentally kicked herself for wasting so much time trying to decide what to wear, even more so trying to impress Charlie’s mother.

Blowing out a breath, she smoothed her yellow sundress and walked into Tenille’s.

Sharon stood waiting by the door. “Good morning.” She tipped her head and gave Isabelle a long, pensive glance.

Isabelle swallowed. “Good morning.”

She followed Sharon to stand silently in line. Awkward. At the counter Sharon ordered a large black coffee. Isabelle decided on a small decaf latte, hoping what Sharon had to say wouldn’t take long.

The café was crowded, but as they rounded the corner into the dining area, a lone table waited by the window.

Isabelle gratefully sank into a chair and took a sip of coffee, feigning nonchalance and hoping she’d made the right decision by being there.

As much as she enjoyed getting to know Charlie again, a wedge of fear still lingered in her heart. Starting another relationship with Charlie meant that she would once again be vulnerable to Sharon Hamilton’s expectations. A bar she could never reach.

Trying not to cringe, Isabelle took a swig of coffee and nearly choked. She covered her mouth, coughing. A rush of heat filled her cheeks.

“Isabelle, are you OK?”

Isabelle nodded, although far from OK. All the effort she’d made to look put together and in barely two minutes she had coffee dribbling down her chin.

Sharon set down her cup and handed her a napkin.

“Thank you.” Isabelle took it and dabbed at her chin.

“I know this is awkward for both of us.” Sharon took a deep breath and sat silent for a moment. “As you know, we’ve had a bit of a rocky past.”

“Yes.” Isabelle straightened at the humbleness in her voice.

“I’d like to put that behind us.”

Stunned, Isabelle bit into her lip, to keep her jaw from sagging. “You didn’t want to meet to talk about Erica?” she blurted.

Sharon shook her head. “No. This is about you and Charlie. When I learned about the baby, how close you were to delivery, I felt guilty. If I hadn’t pushed your aunt, if I hadn’t insisted―” her voice broke, “maybe things would have turned out differently.”

Tears gathered in Isabelle’s eyes and her throat closed around words that refused to form. This scenario she hadn’t considered.

Sharon leaned in and closed her hand over Isabelle’s. “I realize now that I pushed Charlie in the wrong direction. One that made him miserable. It’s time I support him and the woman he’s in love with.”

The pain Isabelle had kept stored for so long in her heart suddenly started to dissipate.

22

Admiral snorted, whinnied, then thrashed the shredded bark in his stall with his hoof.

“Hold on, boy. I haven’t forgotten.” Isabelle dropped her pick into the tack box and grabbed some sugar cubes.

Admiral’s velvety nose rubbed against her shoulder. “You did well today.” She lowered her hand, and he lipped up the morsels. “I’m really proud of—”

“Whoa!” The loud shriek split her thoughts in two.

Isabelle dashed out of the stall to find Charlie swinging over the metal gate across the aisle. His boots thumped to the ground and he stumbled forward, a terrified look on his face.

“Charlie, are you OK?”

“That horse…” He righted his stance and spun back toward the stall, jabbing a finger at Jersey, the Arabian gelding. “He tried to bite me.”

Isabelle swiveled her gaze to Jersey. The horse tossed his head. Nostrils flaring.

She turned back to Charlie and brushed straw off his shirt. “Why would he try to bite you?”

“When I bent to pick up the feed bucket, he—”

Isabelle chuckled. “I get the picture. You have sugar cubes in your back pocket, remember?”

A sheepish grin broke across Charlie’s face. “I forgot.” He dug his fingers into his pocket and pulled out the cubes. “I guess I’m out of practice.” His grin widened as he captured her by the waist and pulled her close. “Good thing, I have a great teacher.” He pressed a kiss on her forehead.

She snuggled against him. An aura of completeness engulfed her.
Thank you, Lord. Forgiveness is a wonderful thing.

She breathed deep then blinked. She pulled back and looked up at Charlie. “I almost forget our lunch date with Kate and Mark. We better hurry. I need to get cleaned up before lunch.”

Charlie edged to Jersey’s stall and let the horse nip the sugar from his palm. “All right.” He hiked up his sleeve and eyed his watch. “Let me finish brushing him and get the tack cleaned up.” He pushed open the metal stall gate and smiled over his shoulder. “Wish me luck.”

She chuckled again. How could she not help but love him?

Isabelle gathered her things and plopped down on a hay bale near the barn’s opening to wait. She was beat. But it was a good tired, well earned by the long trail ride and the brisk canter around the meadow.

Leaning back, she gazed down the cobblestone path that linked the outlying buildings to the pasture. There, she watched a foal wobble to her feet. Her tiny hoofs beat awkwardly against the ground as she pranced behind her mother. They stopped in a greener part of the pasture, joining another grazing horse. The stallion whinnied at their arrival.

Such a sweet family.
Family.
Isabelle’s throat clogged. Just what she wanted.

A gentle breeze rustled her hair, carrying with it the spicy scent of timbers and summer flowers. She sloughed off her uneasiness as she eyed another new arrival. A bright red-bellied woodpecker drumming against a nearby pine tree. With steady aim, he pecked and chiseled, barely making a dent in the sturdy tree. Diligent little fellow. Isabelle smiled, thinking of Drew. His diligence had paid off. With a blue ribbon and a day with his mom at Copperhead Arcade. Could life get any better?