The Wedding Shop (4 page)

She'd sip sweet tea and nibble on a butter cookie with sugar sprinkles, full of joy and life over her coming day.

She fought feeling dull, old, and left behind. But
he'd
promised. And until she knew otherwise, she'd follow her heart, believing and waiting.

“Esmé, help me out here, will you?” Odelia said, motioning to the mannequin she styled with the dress Miss Dunlap chose during her first trip to the shop a month ago. Miss Ruth Dunlap had selected a dress from a Butterick pattern, and Odelia worked her magic.

Cora anticipated Ruth's first glance at her gown. It was always a thrill, the bride's face a sight to behold.
It's happening. I'm truly getting married.

When the clock chimed eight thirty, Cora fluffed the sofa pillows in the grand salon and made sure the curtains were opened wide. The shop was ready.

“Miss Dunlap is going to be swept off her feet,” Cora said, heading to the stairs. “Mama, Odelia, I'm off to get the pastries. Mama, remind me to put a record on the Victrola when the Dunlaps drive up.” Aunt Jane always liked the brides to enter with music playing, and Cora wanted to carry on the tradition. Because, after all, wasn't love the truest song of all?

Collecting her hat and sweater, Cora ducked into the first-floor powder room to fix on her hat. Seeing her reflection, she paused.

Thirty. She was thirty years old. Not a girl. Nor even a young woman. But a grown woman, a working woman. Where had the years gone? Where had she spent her youth?

She had been in love with her high school sweetheart, Rand Davis, until the war. Then he returned home and married Elizabeth White.

Good luck to them. May they be blessed. Cora had been so grieved over the death of her big brother, Ernest Junior, at Somme that she never found the heart to pine for Rand.

She leaned closer to the mirror, gently touching the corner of her eyes where one thin line drew toward her cheek.

In the twenties it seemed everyone was marrying. The shop was busy. But the door just never opened for her.

Because, she liked to believe, she was waiting for Rufus. Oh, seeing him the first time . . . He walked into the shop bold as you please to personally deliver a shipment.
“This was left behind on the
Wayfarer.
Thought I'd deliver it myself.”

His blue eyes locked on her and never let go. She yielded without hesitation to their beckoning. His voice nailed her feet to the floor, and for the life of her, she couldn't utter one intelligible word.

Aunt Jane had to step in, direct him where to drop the bolts of cloth, and apologize for Cora.

Now she angled away from her reflection, smoothing her hand over her bobbed hair. She wasn't a beautiful woman. Handsome, Mama liked to say. Tall and lean, with the figure of a teen girl rather than a mature woman of thirty. But she kept herself dressed in the latest fashions and managed to keep what little shape she possessed without the aid of cigarettes or dieting.

Stepping out of the shop, down the front walk, Cora headed toward the center of Heart's Bend. The small but affluent town in the shadow of Nashville was alive with morning commerce.

Shop owners swept their front walks, calling to one another. And she was one of them.

No one counted on Aunt Jane dying five years ago, at seventy, from a malaria outbreak the authorities claimed was contained. Robust Aunt Jane never saw it coming. No one did.

So Cora took over the reins of the shop. Proudly.

Down the avenue, the air twisted with the aroma of baking bread along with the sour odor of horse droppings. Rosie, the milk cart mare, swished her tail at the biting flies.

Cora crossed Blossom Street, heading along First Avenue, trying to take in the beauty of the day to break free of Mama's comments. She spotted Constable O'Shannon across the wide avenue, at the entrance of Gardenia Park, talking to a giant of a man with blue leggings tucked into black leather knee boots and a loose blouse billowing about his arms, the breeze shifting his wild golden hair about his face.

Rufus?

“Rufus!” She shouted his name through her cupped hands, forgetting decorum, forgetting the gossips with their ears to the ground. “Darling! You're here.”

Running into the avenue, Cora avoided a passing car. The driver sounded his horn, but she didn't care. Her Rufus was here.

The breeze kicked up as she ran to greet him, her heart racing with love.

So her morning tingle of anticipation was correct. He
had
returned. Just like he said. “Rufus, darling! You're here.”

H
ALEY

New Year's Eve

Heart's Bend, Tennessee

T
he pad of paper resting on her lap was blank. At any minute Mom would call up the stairs, “It's time!” and she'd have nothing.

Yet across her childhood bedroom, another piece of paper on her dresser said everything. It dictated her future. Filled her achieving parents and brothers with pride.

The Kellogg School of Management and Marketing at Northwestern University.

But she'd already given four years of her life to college. Then six years to the United States Air Force. Earned her captain's bars. Three years ago she spent six months in Bagram.

Being in a war zone changed her. She was grateful to spend her final years in the air force in California. Near surf and sun.

But nothing prepared her for last year. First, the whirlwind, crazy-love, destructive relationship with Dax Mills. She'd lost her mind to the power of his charms. It was like she'd stepped outside of herself and become a different woman.

She was locked into his swirl and almost lost herself until the phone call came that woke her up. Tammy Eason, her best friend since first grade, was dying from an aggressive form of brain cancer.

How could it be? She was only twenty-eight, four months from
marrying the man of her dreams, Cole Danner. Haley was to be her maid of honor.

Instead of a wedding toast, she spoke a funeral eulogy.

Haley tossed the pad of paper across the room. What did any of it matter? Goals? Dreams? Notching achievements? Making a name for herself? Landing a Fortune 100 job?

In the end, wasn't it all just wood, hay, and stubble? A stray bullet from life could steal it all.

After the funeral Haley filed the papers to end her military career, broke up with Dax once and for all, ending the dysfunction and despair, hopped on her Harley, and drove across the southwest, struggling to find her sense of right and wrong, her faith and hope.

That's when she heard God speak. Like a strange echo from her Jesus-freak teen years. His gentle voice was a soft rain over the dry, craggy terrain of her heart.

“Go home.”

It was easier to yield to His whisper than she imagined. Because His voice came with the love her hungry heart and thirsty soul desperately needed.

But home? With the parental units? It would be challenging.

Once home, Mom insisted she apply to grad school and, well, here she sat. In her old bedroom, facing another Morgan family New Year's goal-setting event, and she had bupkis. Mom's admonition slithered through her thoughts.

“If you have no goals, you will achieve nothing.”

Know what? She didn't want to achieve anything. She wanted to find the pieces of herself she'd lost—not to war, as so many of her fellow airman had, but to so-called love.

“Knock, knock.” Mom peered around the door. “How's it going up here?”

Haley pointed to her pad of paper. “Great.”

Mom leaned against the doorframe. “You could always write
what you wrote in high school. ‘Wear a bikini to school,' or ‘Drive around the square at midnight on my birthday in my birthday suit.' ”

Haley laughed. “I only wrote those things to irritate you.” Her sports medicine doctor mother needed a little controversy now and then. Haley was more than happy to oblige.

Mom would get all flustered, claiming Haley just wanted to “vex” her (true!), while her four brothers guffawed. Then Dad, the mechanical engineer, who tried really hard
not
to burst out with his own laugh, sided with Mom.
“Hal, come on now.”

“I can't help but think of Tammy.” Mom made her way over to the window where a soft white light hit the glass, the glow of Dad's Christmas lights flooding the room with a bright warmth.

“I was thinking of her too.” Haley moved to the window, peering out and down, seeing the tip of Dad's slippers as he stood on the porch, staring toward the street.

With him, she'd known safety in this house her whole life. When she embarked on her own adventures, she never grasped that men like Dax existed. She'd only known the kindness of her father and the teasing, sideways love of her brothers.

“I saw Shana Eason the other day,” Mom said. “Looked like her soul had left her. Eyes vacant. Moving like she had no purpose.”

“She and Harm lost their only child, Mom.”

“I can't imagine. I can't.” Mom retrieved Haley's notepad and handed it to her. “When you were in Bagram, I woke up many nights, saying prayers.”

Haley glanced around at her mother, intrigued by her confession. “I thought you didn't believe in prayer.”

“Can't say as I do, but it's true, there are no atheists in foxholes. There are no atheist mothers with children at war.”

Picking up her pad of paper, Haley returned to her spot on the floor. “Is everyone here?” The brothers all returned to Heart's Bend for the big goal setting. Two from Atlanta. One from Nashville. Another from Orlando.

“Seth and Abigail just arrived.”

“In their new Mercedes?” One was a lawyer and the other a psychiatrist.

“Yes.” Mom grinned. “That'll be you one day. You're going to outshine them all. You have the smarts of Seth and Zack combined.”

Then why was she sitting on the floor with absolutely no vision for herself?

Her brothers were achievers just like their parents, David and Joann Morgan. Each one married an achiever. Among the four couples—she was the only one not married—there were six PhDs. The remaining two slackers only had law degrees.

She was just a lowly captain. Captain Morgan. Like the rum. Didn't that gain her some notoriety in the military? It was good for a few tricks.

In fact, that's how she met Dax. When her friend Rick Cantwell baited him into meeting his friend “Captain Morgan.”

Dax thought he'd find a golden-brown liquid in a bottle. Instead, he found a “hot blonde with gorgeous blue eyes.”

A shout rose from the first floor. “Football,” Mom said.

“Who's winning?” Haley didn't have to ask who was playing. Some SEC team.

Dad had posted the post-season bowl schedule on the wall in the media room, and the alma maters of the Morgan household played today—Alabama and Tennessee.

“Last I looked, Bama. The work I did with their quarterback after his accident last year paid off. He's a seventy-percent passer right now.”

Haley shifted her gaze to her mom, who returned to leaning against the doorframe. She was so intense about her work, such a medical geek, she had absolutely no awareness of her legend among college athletes. Coaches and athletic directors had her number on speed dial.

“Does it ever occur to you how successful you are, Mom?”

A brainiac and introvert, Mom grew up the only child of a World War II widow and her much-older second husband.

“Not really. Just that I'm good at what I do. And I love it.”

Haley sat up. “That, right there. That's what I want this year. To do something I'm good at, to do something I love.”

She'd loved the air force, but it was more like a duty, giving back to her country, helping others. Now it was her time. Find what she loved and do it.

Mom reached for the university letter. “Go to Kellogg. You excelled in management and marketing in college.”

“I guess . . .” Haley stared at her blank notepad.

College was seven years and a lifetime ago. Was she still the girl who wanted to build a career telling people what to buy or sell?

“Does your hesitation have to do with Dax? What happened between you two? Your dad and I liked him.”

She'd been waiting for this question. “We broke up. End of story.”

A shout pierced through her answer, followed by male voices cheering in unison and the distant pop of high fives.

“I think the goal setting tonight will help you, Haley,” Mom said.

“So you've said since I was seven.”

“And? Goals led you to college, the air force, to the rank of captain. Now you're home again with grad school ahead. Weren't you the one who always wanted an adventure?”

“I had my adventure. After the air force I was supposed to come home and open the old wedding shop with Tammy.” Haley smiled at the memory of playing in the shop with her best friend. “Man, I don't think I've really thought about that since high school. But if she were alive now, she'd be begging, ‘Let's open the shop, Hal. Now's the time.' ”

“The old wedding shop? What? I never heard this before. Why
would you want to open that old place? The city owns the property and, last I heard, was about to tear it down, thank goodness.” Mom opened the bedroom door and hollered down, “Dave, is it almost halftime? We can do our goals.”

Haley was on her feet. “Tear down the shop? Why?” Her dream with Tammy woke up, stretched, and rattled around in her soul. “They can't tear it down. It's part of Heart's Bend tradition, the center of bridal lore.”

“I say good riddance to the place. It's an eyesore. Why would you want to reopen the old wedding shop? There are all kinds of great bridal boutiques in Nashville. Petra Cook's daughter bought her whole trousseau online. Haley, you're too smart and talented to be chained to a shop, catering to picky brides.”

“When did the town decide to tear it down?”

“Well, it's been in the works for a long time, but the old brides . . .” Mom shook her head, surrendering her hands in mock exasperation. “They come out of the woodwork, protesting, calling the shop a historical place in town. But it's not part of the historical district. Besides, Akron Developers needs that space for parking. They're renovating the old mill into loft apartments and building a shopping center to go with. They purchased the old cow pasture for it.”

“Where we used to play home run ball in the summer? Football on Thanksgiving and Christmas?”

“Yes, finally Heart's Bend comes into the twenty-first century.”

The conversation boiled in Haley's chest. She'd lost a lot in the last year. Herself by way of Dax, her identity as an air force captain, and her best friend.

She didn't want to lose her dream too.
Their
dream.

Haley snatched up her notepad and pen. “I know what my goal is for this year.”

Mom angled forward to see what Haley wrote. “Really? Well, okay, good. I look forward to hearing it.” She started out the door. “You coming?”

“In a minute.” She wanted to think this through. If she set a goal, she'd need to have some steps in place.

Yet the more she thought about it, the more she wanted to resurrect the wedding shop. She scribbled on her pad of paper. “Reopen the wedding shop!”

Haley set the pad on her bed and stood over it, staring down at her New Year's resolution, the words coming alive, whispering to her, telling her
this
was what she came home to do.