The Wedding Shop (6 page)

Constable O'Shannon stepped up. “Captain Riske, may I introduce Miss Cora Scott. She runs the dress shop at the end of the avenue there.”

“Wedding shop,” she said, her eyes still locked with the captain's—who seemed rather delighted at her discomfort. “I operate a
wedding
shop.”

“Well, you have dresses too, don'tcha?” O'Shannon insisted on being right. After all, he was the
law
around town.

“We do, yes, for after the wedding. For the honeymoon.” Her skin blushed with embarrassment. “The bride's trousseau, you see.”

“Honeymoon?” Riske's voice teased her and her embarrassment. “I like the sound of that word.” The captain leaned a bit too close, bringing with him the spice aroma of beef jerky.

Cora took a giant step back. “I'm terribly sorry to have disturbed you.” She wanted to run but feared stumbling over her trembling legs.

“A pretty woman is never a disturbance.” Captain Riske was a flirt.

Cora knew better than to yield. She'd never inspired the word
pretty
from a man. Except for Rufus, who called her his “beautiful coral.”

“Is there something you need?” The captain's amusement bordered on mocking.

“Of course not,” she said. Except to be away. Her pulse throbbed in her ears as she spun around, her heels crunching over the concrete sidewalk, her disappointment loud in her ears.

Rufus had not come.

Cora pressed toward the shop, through the rising pockets of sunlight, forcing down her tears, willing her heart to go numb. Why had he
not
come? What was the delay?

He said he'd see her in the spring. And she believed him.

Ever since he'd declared his love for her and asked her to wait for him, Cora had set her heart like a flint to do as he asked, to be true to him, courting no other man. No matter how long it took for him to marry her.

No man had ever whispered words of love before. Besides Daddy. And even he didn't say them often.

The shop was only two blocks away, but the distance felt like miles. Would she ever reach the front steps? Her safe haven?

The incessant sound of her heels against the gritty sidewalk filled her head, irritating her thoughts. Yet the
crunch-crunch
was the only way to escape the constable, the captain, and her embarrassment. The only way to escape her disappointment.

Sweat beaded along her neck, under the wisps of her dark waves. She quickened her steps, yet the shop seemed no closer.

Cora clutched her skirt and kicked into a run, her muscles yielding to her demand. Faster. Faster. Past the shops. Bumping around the morning pedestrians and their blurred faces, their disembodied voices.

“Cora, where you going in such a hurry?”

“Cora, honey? Are you all right?”

She tripped over Mr. Griggs's broom as he swept the walk in front of his haberdashery and nearly toppled to the concrete. She caught herself in time and pressed on, her pulse resounding, her lungs burning.

About to cross Blossom Street for the back of the shop, Cora darted from the curb without looking and smashed into something firm and gripping, corralling her about the waist.

“Let me go . . .” She swung her elbows high and wide, trying to wrench free.

“Cora, it's me, Birch. Simmer down. Shoot, girl, where's the fire?”

She exhaled, releasing her tension, and peered into the bright glint of Birch Good's sky-blue eyes. His ruby lips curved into a smile above his square, dimpled chin.

“Birch, I'm sorry. I didn't see you.” Cora pushed out of his arms. This time he gently let her go. “I-I'm late, you see, for the shop. I-I had to get the morning pastries.”

He glanced at her empty hands. She made no pretense, no attempt, to hide them. “What happened back there?” He motioned toward the park.

“I-I don't know, really.” She pressed her fingers to her forehead,
averting her gaze, trying to work up a jolly laugh. But her voice remained weak and quavering. “A case of mistaken identity.”

She glanced back to where the captain stood, but he was gone. Had she not panicked like a scared child she might have asked him if he'd seen her Rufus on the river. Was he well? Was he on his way?

“Look at you. You're trembling.” Birch's hands slipped down her arms, pulling her to him. “Shh, it's going to be all right.” His strong arms wrapped her against him.

Cora propped her cheek against his checkered shirt, inhaling the familiar fragrance of lye soap and hay. “How badly did I embarrass myself just now?”

“I don't know. Was anyone looking?” Birch Good, farmer and friend, was as solid as the Tennessee limestone.

She raised her head with a soft laugh. “Apparently you were.”

“Only because you 'bout ran me over.”

“Mercy me, I didn't even see you,” Cora said, patting his full, farmer-built chest, then smoothing away the wild ends of her hair flitting over her eyes. “I
can
get so focused.” Her adrenaline ebbed, taking the shaking with it.

“Who was it, Cora? Who did you think was over there?”

“Maybe another time, Birch. I really must get going. We have customers from Birmingham this morning.” She tried to hold his gaze, but her eyes drifted toward the park once more.

Birch followed her sight line. “The riverboat captain?”

Cora chose not to confirm or deny. “This is a special customer too. Her mama grew up in Heart's Bend, bought her dress from Aunt Jane twenty-five years ago. It's exciting to outfit the daughters of our former brides.” Cora turned for the shop, checking the traffic before stepping off the curb.

“Rufus St. Claire?” Birch fell in step with her. “You thought you saw him, didn't you?”

Cora faced him right there in the middle of the street. “Well,
if you know so much, why are you asking? What are you doing in town at this hour, anyway? Don't you have a farm to run?”

She'd known Birch from eons ago—their fathers were school chums—and it really irked her how familiar he was with her. And how comfortable she felt with him.

“I had some business with the bank. Thought I'd treat myself to breakfast at the diner. Old bachelor farmer gets tired of his own cooking.” Birch moved with her, across the street and toward the shop.

“Then why don't you get married?” Birch, five years her senior, farmed his family's vast lands, and he could have any number of women as his bride.

“You applying for the job?”

“Aren't you humorous? I believe there's a line of women every Sunday after church just waiting to invite you to supper.”

“Well, I got my eye on a girl. Only trouble is, she ain't looking back.”

“Then find one who's looking.”

His words burned, carving out truth she suspected for a long time. But she was hopelessly in love with a man who lived on the river. The predicament was both exhilarating and terrifying. Either way, she would not let go. She'd made up her mind. Given her word.

Marching up the back steps, Cora reached for the door. “It's good to see you, Birch.”

“Who do you recommend for a fella who might be looking?”

“For Pete's sake, Birch, you can figure that out for yourself.”

“You thought you saw Rufus St. Claire, didn't you?”

She started inside, but Birch gently gripped her wrist. “I don't see how it's your business.”

“Am I wrong?”

Cora regarded him for a moment, reading his eyes, his expression. “You disapprove?”

She wished the question back. Because if he did, it would
bother her. She didn't like Birch's disapproval. It was enough she had Mama's.

Birch had been there for the family during the '14 bank panic when Daddy disappeared for a while. Helped out her brother, Ernest Jr., with things around the house.

Then in '18 he came home from the war when EJ didn't. Came around the house almost every evening to see how Cora, Mama, and Daddy were doing.

“I don't like that he hurts you.”

“He's not hurting me.”

“Then why the blinding run? The dark expression? The panic?”

The slam of car doors popped the air and Cora peeked inside the shop. Mama was waving her in. “Birch, I've got to go. My customers have arrived.”

“What about your pastries?”

“We'll have to do without. Odelia brought in her cinnamon rolls.”

“Those rocks?” He made a face and Cora pressed her hand to her lips to hide her laugh. “Surely you can't offer your special customers, all the way up from Birmingham, Odelia's cinnamon buns.”

“She is so proud of them.”

“Maybe so, but ole Dr. Walsh is out of town fishing, so if they break a tooth—”

Through the open windows Cora heard the Victrola and Mama's sweet, “Welcome to The Wedding Shop. Welcome.”

“What would your aunt Jane say?” Birch whispered.

“She'd say just serve tea and coffee and forget the pastries.”

“No, about you pining for that no-good riverboat captain.”

“She'd have said, ‘Follow your heart, Cora Beth.' ” Her old aunt regretted choosing work over love and marriage. She died an old maid. Cora refused to follow her fate. “She would want me to be happy.”

“I'm sure she would. But with a man who was true.” Birch backed away. “I'll pick up your order. I assume it's at Haven's.”

“Cora!” Mama appeared at the door. “Why are you dawdling? They're here. Morning, Birch.”

He tipped his cap. “Mrs. Scott.”

“Darling, where are the pastries?” Mama gestured at Cora's arms, her eyes wide and wild. “Mrs. Dunlap is about to spend a small fortune on her daughter's trousseau, and the least we can do is offer her a cup of tea and a petit four. Otherwise, Odelia will offer her buns, and we don't need an emergency trip to the dentist. I think the doc's out fishing.”

Cora rolled her eyes, peering at Birch. “Did you two arrange this conversation? Fine, Birch, will you fetch the pastries. Charge them to my account. Bring them around back. Mama will be setting up tea and coffee in the pantry.”

“What about the kisses?” Mama said. “We're out.”

“Kisses?” Birch echoed, a chuckle in his tone. “Yeah, how can I help with the kisses?”

“Oh, you,” Mama said with a naughty giggle, turning away and heading inside.

“Mama means Hershey's
chocolate
kisses, Birch,” Cora said. Goodness, were they children, giggling over the word
kisses
? “You can get a tin at Kidwells.”

“Kisses?” he said again, his grin taking on a teasing swagger. “For a wedding shop? A bit on the nose.”

“Go on now. For a farmer, Birch, you're acting mighty highbrow.”

Cora started inside, but he reached for her, gently holding her arm. His nearness stole her breath and filled her with a sudden and disarming sensation. She swallowed, pressing her hand to her chest, trying to gain composure.

“You want chocolate kisses, right?”

“Yes, w-why do you keep asking?”

“I wouldn't want to get the wrong ones. I've never had chocolate
kisses before.” The wind of his words brushed her cheek and fashioned an army of tingles down her spine.

“W-well then, try one when you get here.”

“I think I will.”

Cora fell against the door as Birch released her and headed off to do his errand, whistling.

The ardor of his tone when he said, “
Kisses
,” still fired against her skin. Wait until she saw him again. She'd give him a piece of her mind. And what was that tune he whistled as he trotted off?

Cora went inside, musing over the melody, searching for the words. Ah! That silly Helen Kane melody, “I Wanna Be Loved by You.”

I wanna be loved by you / nobody else but you.

Cora gave the back door a good hard slam. Birch Good could just sing that song to another gal. Because she belonged to Rufus St. Claire.

H
ALEY

S
unday evening Haley fired her Harley 750 out of the garage, into the cold night, and headed north, toward town. Toward First Avenue, passing under the streetlights, needing a break from the house.

As the youngest, she was used to being home alone with the folks. But ever since college she'd been on her own, and now it felt weird to live with her parents again.

They clearly had a routine. A way of living that fit their lives, and Haley felt like an interloper. But after Tammy's death and the breakup with Dax, coming home gave her the reset she needed.

Riding under the shield of night, twilight long gone on the horizon, Haley's thoughts took on a motor of their own.

The family goal setting three nights ago went well. Until Haley said, “
Open up the old wedding shop
.”

At first everyone just stared back at her. Silencing the Morgan boys was an accomplishment in and of itself.

Sister-in-law Jodi from Chicago wanted to know what the wedding shop was, and the boys sputtered over their explanation. But boy howdy, they were against it.

They took their cue from Mom, who spoke loudly in her silence.

“You were a captain in the air force. How can you be a huckster for the bloated wedding industry?”

“An MBA from Kellogg will set you up, Haley. A buddy of mine landed a job with a nice six-figure salary when he graduated.”

“From fatigues and logistics to lace and tulle? I can't see it.”

Finally Dad stepped in, said to let Haley make up her own mind. She'd done a good job with her life so far.
Thanks, Dad.
“
After all
,” he said, “
Aaron was a really
nice
boy growing up, then he decided to be a lawyer. The family supported
him
on that decision
.”

Bwhahaha
. Dad's dry humor broke the tension and put the goal-setting party back on track.

But Mom? She remained stiff and aloof, tight-lipped. If she had something to say, she couldn't find the words.

From back off the road, several houses still danced with Christmas lights, and Haley allowed a moment of sentiment.

She loved her hometown, for all of its busybodies and small-town mind-set. It'd been a great place to grow up. After years in the military, Haley needed to find herself again, her values and integrity, the tenderness of her heart.

She'd become callous, hard. Haley gunned the gas, pushing the bike forward down River Road, as if the motion would dislodge her sins and leave them crashing down on the road.

A stoplight flashed red up ahead, so Haley eased off the gas and squeezed the clutch, downshifting. This was a new light, bringing the town total up to four. After the goal setting, Dad brushed her up on Akron Developers, the group wanting to demolish the wedding shop.

A few years back they'd moved in southeast of town and erected high-priced homes for Nashville's elite looking for some space. And little by little they crept into Heart's Bend proper, making deals and acquiring land.

In the distance, a popping sound rocketed through the air. Someone was still celebrating the new year. Two years ago, fresh off her tour in Bagram, the slightest noise jolted her heart into overdrive.

It took her a year to steady her insides, to not jump at every sound, wondering if it was a rocket or bullet that could take her life. Meanwhile, back home, Tammy battled cancer.

The light flashed green and she started off, down First Avenue toward the old wedding shop. She needed to see it. Feel it. Confirm her New Year's decision was real. Not just another dig against Mom. She was getting too old for that stuff anymore.

Haley headed past the old storefronts. Dad was on the Reclaim Downtown committee, where they made plans to rejuvenate the old soul of Heart's Bend—the original city center.

She cruised past Ella's Diner, the light from inside pressing against the window, beckoning her. She'd have to pop in there soon, say hi to Tina, Cole Danner's mom.

Haley spent a lot of Friday and Saturday nights at the counter drinking chocolate shakes and eating French fries with Tammy, waiting with her to get a glimpse of Cole.

But that's what best friends did for each other, right?

Haley squinted through the pockets of shadow and light as she came to a stop sign at Gardenia Park, heading for 143 First Avenue.

The avenue bent slightly to the right, and there in front of her was a tall, dark structure with large display windows hovering under the winter limbs of three large trees. Haley pulled along the front curb and cut the bike's engine. Tugging off her helmet, she studied the place with her eyes and heart wide open.

“Hey, old fort. It's just me from now on out.”

A dark, sad place, if ever there was one. Had it always looked like this? Or was her perspective cleared, sharpened by worldly experiences?

As a girl, she'd thought the shop seemed alive and romantic.

But tonight the moonless night cloaked the shop with dark shadows.

Haley retrieved her phone and a thick black flashlight from
a saddlebag. Tucking her phone in her pocket, she clicked on the light, waving a large, long beam over the deserted shop.

The redbrick front, with two large windows framing either side of the door, was covered with ivy. The postage-stamp yard was wild and overgrown.

But even in the dark dullness, Haley saw the beauty. Felt a glimmer of life.

Slicing her way through the weeds to the front steps, she tried to peer through the windows, but the concrete porch, no wider than the door, gave her no perspective. The railing had rusted away, so she couldn't lean on it. She made her way around back, tripping on a root or vine, something that reached out of the ground.

Stumbling, she caught herself with a hand to the brick, whispering a dark word as she trekked around the shop, weaving through fallen branches and clusters of dry, dead leaves.

Wedding shop, what happened to you?

Around back she found the porch listing to one side, pulling away from the brick.

Pulling open the porch door, which hung off its hinges, Haley stepped onto the weak, rotting floorboards. Testing each step, she made her way to the shop's door, peeking through the dirty glass.

There . . . in that small room, she and Tammy sipped from their thermoses filled with Mrs. Eason's sweet tea and played make-believe.

Haley tried the knob, wanting to sneak in like she did twenty years ago, but the old iron piece refused to yield, merely wiggling from side to side.

Next she tried the windows. But they were stuck tight.

Pressing her nose against the window to the left of the door, Haley squinted through the darkness, trying to understand if this was her future. Had she set a solid New Year's goal?

She'd not prayed much in the last decade since college. Even the devastation with Dax had not dropped her to her knees. But
since the day God spoke as she crossed from New Mexico into Texas, she started lifting more and more of her words heavenward.

Lord, do I do this? Am I crazy? Just being sentimental, sticking to my little girl dream? Opening a wedding shop is silly, right? So not me.

She didn't expect an answer, really. What did it mean to hear God? She'd forgotten how. With the passage of time, all those teenage impressions of God “speaking” to her seemed made up, her imagination taking hold.

When she was fifteen, she'd adopted a mantra from a traveling evangelist.
Live for God. Everything else will fall into place.

She'd done well by her motto until college, then lost even more of her faith in the air force. And what remained, she lost with Dax. Maybe now was the time to return. She'd chased adventure. Pursued men and what she thought was love.

Maybe now it was time to pursue God with the same abandon.

The wind trickled past, cold and dewy, with the promise of snow. Haley scanned her light over the floors, stopping on the spot where she and Tammy had lain, pinkies locked, making a promise.

She relived the moment sometimes in her dreams. Especially in Afghanistan. As if her heart longed for the innocence of childhood and the comfort of home.

“Old shop, you're my friend, aren't you?” Was it possible to feel like she belonged to a building?

“Hey, didn't you see the sign? No trespassing.”

Haley was spun around by a barreling bass voice. She gripped her flashlight like a weapon. “Who's there?”

The dark figure shoved through the debris and brush hemming in the failing porch. “You know you're on city property.” He cut through her flashlight beam, and Haley could see the cut of his features and the loose hair swaying about his head. “You need to get off the property.”

“Cole?” She trained her beam on him.

He swung his flashlight to her face. “Haley?”

“Yeah, it's me!”

He traveled through the rest of the overgrowth and hopped onto the porch, scooping her up in a big hug. “What are you doing here? Last I saw you, at the funeral, you were raving about California life.”

“Yeah, well, what do I know?”

“Tell me about it.” A soft laugh accompanied his statement. “How long you in town?”

She shrugged. “Not sure. Got grad school on the horizon. If I'm going, I'll leave this week.”

He put his light on her face again. “And if you're not?”

“Might hang around here.” She looked around to the shop's door. “See what mischief I can get into.”

“Mischief? In Heart's Bend?” His soft laugh touched a locked corridor of her heart. “Hey, remember when you pummeled me in fifth grade because I said you were pretty?”

She laughed. “Oh my gosh, what made you think of that?”

“The word
mischief
, I guess.”

“Well, I'm not looking for that kind of mischief.” She peeked at him. “Guess I never apologized for beating you up.”

“You didn't.” Cole rubbed his jaw, as if her ten-year-old's punch still stung. “But the damage is done. I was humiliated.”

She laughed again, her heart a winter flower unfolding. “Sorry about that. You can blame Seth and Zack for my boxing skills. With them, I either defended myself or constantly was black-and-blue.”

“I'm sure it served you well in the military. So how are you?”

“Good. You?”

“Good. Busy. Well, trying to be. Get things going after the holidays.”

“I bet. D-did you have a good Christmas?”
Did you miss Tammy?

“I did. What about you?”

“Good. You know the Morgan house . . . pretty crazy.”

“I saw Seth the other day. He came into the diner. Looks like he's happy. His wife seems great.”

“Abigail? She's a saint. Keeps Seth in line.”

“So you're out of the military?”

“I am. Got out in October. Took a couple of months to wind down, visit friends.” She held her arms wide. “Now I'm here.”

“No more ‘Yes ma'am, Captain Morgan'?”

She grinned, shaking her head, liking the ease of the conversation. “No more spiced rum jokes either.”

Cole laughed. “That one is just too hard to pass up. So what's next? Law school? Med school? MBA? Conquering and dividing, taking over the world?”

“Oh, see, you have me confused with the rest of the Morgan family overachievers.” Haley shifted her weight, tucking her cold fingers into her jacket pockets. “I think I might just stay in town.” She motioned to the shop. “Get this bad girl up and running again.”

“What? This?” Cole slapped the brick wall. “The wedding shop? You're kidding.”

“I'm not.”

“Why? She's falling apart. About to be torn down.”

“Because Tammy and I pinky swore. One day we would open up the wedding shop again.”

Cole leaned against the wall. “I don't think she'd hold you to it, Haley.” He ducked his head away. “You know, since she's not here.”

“Maybe all the more reason why I should do it. To remember her. To keep a promise.” Haley walked to the far side of the porch, staring toward Blossom Street and the lone amber streetlamp, emotion wadded up in her chest. “So what about you? What's up with Cole Danner? How are you doing?”

He shrugged. She knew that move. Something was on his mind. “I went on a date tonight.”

Haley aimed her flashlight right in his eye. “Really? Someone I know?”

He shook his head, squinting, raising his hand as a shield to the beam. “No. She was a friend of a friend. Can you put that thing down?”

Haley lowered her light. “So what are you doing here?”

“Date ended abruptly when I said something that reminded her of her ex-boyfriend, who cheated on her, by the way, and boom, I was the bad guy and ‘Check, please.' But not before she sang four rounds of ‘All men are liars and cheaters.' ”

Haley could hum a few bars of that song. “Sorry, Cole. Was this your first date since Tammy?”