Willow Spring (13 page)

“And one more thing,” Tessa said. “Tell him you’ll reveal your identity to him at the wedding reception.”

Amy darted her head around to glare at Tessa once more.

“You don’t really have to do it,” Tessa explained, calming her down. “Just make him
think
you will. It will keep his focus off Anna—at least a little—and hopefully keep him from leaving with her if he’s waiting for the mystery woman to appear. It’s worth a try anyway.”

“Oh. Yeah. You’re right. That’s good,” Amy said, bending over the page to add that part.

No envelope this time, so when she was done, she simply handed Tessa her pen back and folded the little pink sheet in half.

“Okay,” Tessa said. “Now I’m going to walk behind the bar, turn Logan around to face away from the door, and take as long as I can paying for that round of drinks. While I’m doing that, go put that on his car as fast as you can. Got it?”

“Got it,” Amy said. Then waited as Tessa put the plan into action.

As usual when engaging in this particular activity, her heart beat a mile a minute until Logan’s back was turned, then she padded quickly toward the bar’s front door. But this time it was almost worse, because the chances of being caught seemed greater. Even more than at the wedding shower, because then he’d been all wrapped up in Anna.

A burst of cool spring evening air hit her as she rushed to Logan’s car and slid the note under the wiper.
I want you inside me.
Could she ever tell him her identity after
that?
Well, you can’t worry about that now. Right now, all you can worry about is getting back inside before Logan looks up and sees you walking through the door.

As she re-entered the Dew Drop, Logan was—thank God—still talking with Tessa. And Amy headed straight for the makeshift dance floor, where the girls now moved to Lady Gaga’s “Bad Romance.” She stepped instantly into the circle of her friends, so relieved that she almost didn’t even mind that Anna was a part of it.

When Tessa joined them a minute later, she gave Amy a quick wink that, again, made her beyond grateful for her friends.

And as she continued to dance, she tried her best to get lost in the moment. Rachel seemed so happy, and Amy thought she’d never seen her look more carefree—and this was one of those girlfriend moments, the ones where you were supposed to just disconnect from everything else for a little while and do nothing but soak up the fun and camaraderie.

But her eyes—and thoughts—kept being unwittingly drawn back to Anna, who, of course, moved like liquid rhythm on the dance floor, even in those huge heels, and looked like every guy’s perfect fantasy girl come to life with her perfect body and perfect face and perfect hair.

I don’t want to be jealous of you, I really don’t. I know how much you’ve lost, and I can’t imagine being in your shoes right now, impossibly high-heeled or not. And yet, despite all you’ve lost, in other ways you have so much more than I’ll ever have. I’ll never know what it’s like to be beautiful. I’ll never know what it’s like to be so utterly cool and confident. I’ll never know what it’s like to walk into a room knowing every man there will want me. I’ll never have all the choices you do, all the options—with men, with sex, with what to wear, how to be.

I’m just me, and it doesn’t matter what anyone says or tries to convince me of, I’ll never be pretty. I’ll never be sexy. And I’m pretty sure Logan is going to be the only guy I’ll ever love. So please don’t take him away from me. Please, please pick someone else. Anyone else in the world.

And yet, even as she danced on, a plastic smile pasted on her face, she felt the flaw in her silent plea, and she had no choice but to ask herself a painful question: Who would be to blame if Anna did take him, win him, and Amy had never even let him know she was in the game?

Nine

Nobody who has not been in the interior of a family can say what the difficulties of any individual of that family may be.

Jane Austen, from
Emma

M
ike sat in a small room in the basement of the Destiny Church of Christ. He wore a tux. He was getting married in less than an hour. He heard the echo of Rachel’s laughter from another room somewhere above him on the main floor.

It was one of those moments in life that made a man stop and reflect. His life had changed so much in the past couple of years. He had a woman he loved, and knowing he was going to spend the rest of his life with her made him feel damn fortunate. He had good friends, and a loving family. His wayward brother, Lucky, had come home and they’d mended their relationship. And now his baby sister had miraculously returned, too. For the last year or two, he’d been trying hard to quit believing that would ever happen, trying to finally let her go, give himself some closure. But he’d never completely gotten there—and he supposed there’d been a reason why. Somehow, all along, he’d known—just known—that she couldn’t really be gone forever.

So he was a man who had it all. Everything. And he wasn’t even sure he really deserved it all, but he wasn’t complaining. It should be a crime to have so much good fortune in one life.

He looked up when Anna walked in, as stunning as ever in a low cut red dress. And, well, maybe it was a little too low cut for his liking, actually. He wished she were a little more modest—she was a beautiful girl and didn’t need to show off her body to get male attention.

“Rachel sent me down with the boutonnieres,” she said, holding out a clear plastic box containing small cream-colored rosebuds.

“Thanks,” he told her. “For everything.” She’d been a big help in little ways this past week, and especially today, passing on messages and running small errands to help make sure all the details were in place while the bride and groom avoided seeing each other. Unfortunately, though, his gaze stuck on the V of his sister’s dress because—he couldn’t help it—the sight made everything inside him clench up.

“Let me guess,” she said then. “You don’t like my dress.” Her dry tone accompanied the roll of her eyes. Damn, he hadn’t realized he was so obvious.

“Well, it’s not that I don’t like it.” In fact, on another woman—probably
any
other woman—he would think it was great. But Anna wasn’t any other woman. Far from it. “It’s just that . . . well, you wear a lot of clothes that . . . show off your body. And you don’t need to.”

Uh-oh. He could tell just from her eyes, the set of her mouth, that he’d said the wrong thing. She’d seemed a little irritated or something with him this past week—but this, he knew instantly, went beyond that. “I’m a big girl, Mike. I can wear what I want.”

Shit. “I know, I know,” he said, trying to calm her down. “Don’t get mad. It’s just that . . . you don’t want to send the wrong message, do you?”

That was when her eyes bolted open wide, in anger, and he knew he’d screwed up further while he’d been trying to make the situation better.

“What if I do? What business is it of yours what message I send? And for your information, the only message I happen to be sending is that I’m a confident woman who feels good about the way she looks. I’m not a slut, Mike. But I’m also not a saint. So get over it.”

Mike simply sat there, dumbfounded. “Anna—I never said you were . . .” God, the very idea that he could even think of her that way tore at his stomach.

“And another thing,” she said. “You have absolutely no right to keep me from seeing Logan. I’ve been trying to hold back on all this because your wedding was coming, but . . . I’m sorry, I can’t stand by and let you try to run my life for a minute more!”

Mike pushed to his feet out of sheer frustration. “I’m not trying to run your life, Anna—it’s just that I care about you. For God’s sake, how can I not care?”

At this, she merely let out an exasperated sigh, like he was the most unreasonable guy on the planet. “I’m not asking you not to care! I’m asking you not to interfere where you shouldn’t.”

“But I’m your brother. Any big brother who loves his little sister is gonna look out for her that way.”

“Mike,” she said tensely, her tone quieter but still sharp, “you haven’t been my brother for the last twenty-five years. You barely know me. We’re not much more than strangers to each other. How I dress or who I see is, frankly, just none of your business.”

It was like a blow to the gut, like having the wind knocked out of him—he couldn’t remember a time in his life when he’d ever been so . . . wounded. And he immediately knew why—it was because only Anna, only his baby sister, could ever have that power over him.

And if she only knew. He had indeed been her loving brother for each and every day of the last twenty-five years. He’d been
ripping his heart out over losing her
for the last twenty-five years. He’d let the loss consume his whole life—at least until Rachel had come along. And the hurt washing over him now . . . God. He could barely even process it. He needed to be alone. So he simply broke eye contact and walked numbly past her, out of the room.

“Mike,” she said, halting him in his tracks just outside the doorway. He drew a deep breath, turned back to face her. His chest still burned.

“I really don’t mean to upset you on your wedding day, so I’m sorry for that. But . . . when you come home from your honeymoon, I’ll be back in Indianapolis. I . . .” She shook her head. “I can’t stay here. You and this whole place are suffocating me.”

Jesus. He stared at her blankly, speechless. Because he had no idea what to say.

And so he said nothing and instead simply turned back around and walked away.

He couldn’t believe it. After all these years, he’d finally gotten her back—only to lose her again so quickly, just in a different way this time.

A
ll the girls had gotten ready at Edna’s house, then had photos taken outside in the orchard, and some in front of the little red barn, which was all decked out for the reception tonight. It was a beautiful day in Destiny—one which most people would never have dreamed could happen. Rachel and Mike were laying to rest the old Farris-Romo family feud by bringing them all together under one roof at the Destiny Church of Christ—and then even forcing them to eat and dance together at the orchard that had caused the feud in the first place, back in the fifties when Edna had squabbled over ownership of the place with Mike’s grandfather.

However, now that the bridal party was at the church, Amy had come under fire from Tessa, who insisted she wasn’t wearing enough makeup.

“It’s the same amount I always wear,” she’d argued.

“That’s the problem,” Tessa told her. Amy had just never been a big makeup person—what difference did it make if she had on lipstick or eye shadow? She generally wore a little—but who had the energy to spend time worrying how you looked every day, especially when she knew no amount of it was ever suddenly going to make her beautiful?

And then Rachel—who absolutely glowed in her bridal gown—had even chimed in. “Tessa’s right. You look as pale as a ghost, Ames. Let her put some more on you.” Then she’d done a totally tricky thing—rather than be the usual this-is-how-it’s-going-to-be Rachel, she’d turned the tables and been sweet! She’d tilted her head and said, “Pretty please? For me? It’s my wedding day, after all.”

So now Amy sat letting Tessa paint her face, and though she only occasionally got a glimpse in the hand mirror all the girls were passing around, she thought it was just too much.

And—oh Lord—now Sue Ann had decided her
hair
was too plain, too! She was insisting on pulling it back from her face, up off her neck into some sort of up-do.

“Am I that hideous on a daily basis?” Amy groused.

“Oh, be quiet, of course not,” Sue Ann said. “But today is a special day! Why not have fun with it like the rest of us and do something different?” And true enough, the rest of Rachel’s bridesmaids had indeed gone all out and enjoyed the girly-girlness of the occasion to the max. So Amy finally chose to just shut up and roll with it and hope she didn’t look completely ridiculous walking down the aisle. Though already she felt self-conscious about how close her blue dress fit her now, and the fact that it even gave her cleavage. She simply wasn’t used to that.

After Sue Ann finished with a happy-sounding, “There!” and stepped away, Tessa came back at her with another makeup brush.

“Aren’t you done yet?” Amy complained.

And just then, Logan stopped at the doorway of the little room they were in to say, “Five minutes, ladies,” before going on his way.

He hadn’t even seen her. But, Lord, had she ever seen
him
. Her heart did flip-flops in her chest. “Oh God,” she whispered to Tessa, “did you see him in his tux? He looked so . . . yummy.”

In reply, Tessa smiled down at her, her expression something like Rachel’s a little while ago—almost sweet. “You know, I like you like this. All caught up in a guy. Despite you being a romantic, I’d actually worried at times that . . . that you maybe didn’t have it in you to go that deep, to give your whole heart, your whole self, over to those kinds of emotions.”

Amy let out a short sigh, feeling Tessa’s words gut-deep. “Maybe I didn’t for awhile. But then it finally hit me. And now . . . oh God, I hate it—it’s awful.”

“But it’s also . . . wonderful, isn’t it?” Tessa suggested, reminding Amy of the truth that constantly plagued her now. She’d never dreamed love was such a two-sided coin.

“Yes and no. I just wish I were more like you. Or Rachel. You guys have always been so confident—you know how to talk with guys, flirt with guys, how to just
be
with guys.”

Yet Tessa only shrugged. “I was pretty off my game for a while. Even with Lucky at first. And honestly, what it all comes down to in the end is really just . . . being yourself. Or . . . the new self he brings out in you. And then you hope it all clicks.”

Amy’s shoulders slumped as that notion sank down inside her. “For me, I’m not sure it does.”

“You should consider following through tonight,” Tessa said to her.

“On what?”

“Revealing your identity.”

And Amy gasped, totally aghast. “I couldn’t. I can’t. Not yet.”

“Just a thought,” Tessa said, offering another light shrug. “But you know, weddings can be . . . kind of magical. And not only for the bride and groom. Sometimes things
happen
at weddings. Big things. So just think about it.” Then she stepped back, surveying her work. “Done.” And she passed Amy the mirror.

Another move which made her gasp. But this time in . . . pure wonder. Because . . . who was this girl she saw in the glass right now? How could this be? How had it happened? It was that easy?

“What?” Tessa asked, sounding worried.

“I’m pretty,” Amy said softly. “You made me pretty.”

“You’ve always been pretty, dummy. You just hide it.” Then Tessa leaned closer to say, “Now get out there and make Logan want you to be his secret admirer.”

A
nna felt like a heel. It had all needed to be said. It had reached a point where she couldn’t contain it—apparently not even for one more minute. But her timing had plain sucked.

She did still feel like Mike was something of a stranger to her—along with everyone else in Destiny, too, except maybe for Logan—but she cared about him, enough that it had been selfish to explode on him that way right before his wedding.

She’d spent the last hour not only feeling crappy about the whole thing, but she’d also had a chat first with Tessa, and then Lucky, and had come up with a plan she hoped would smooth things over with her overbearing oldest brother.

When she approached the room where she’d argued with him, she heard him inside, now arguing with
other
people—namely, his groomsmen. “Where’s the fucking minister?” he snapped.

“Dude,” she heard Logan say, “calm down. The minister’s here. And I hope you don’t go to hell for calling him
that,
here
.”

And as the rest of the guys chuckled softly, Anna noted how easily Logan dealt with Mike. You could tell he’d been at this for a long time and was skilled at it. One more reason to like him.

“Now,” Logan said calmly, “it’s time.”

“Time?” Mike sounded a little alarmed.

“Time to go out. Time for you to go get married.”

“Shit,” he said. “Already? God damn it, I don’t know if . . .” She’d never heard Mike sound like this before—almost . . . panicky. But then, she’d always heard that even the most steady of men could have last minute jitters right before they walked down the aisle.

Logan was clearly thinking the same thing. “Listen, I know this is huge. But you love Rachel—she makes you happy. This is what you want, man. You’re just a little nervous right now, that’s all.”

And Mike snapped, “Of course I love Rachel—that’s not the problem here. The problem is . . . I had a big fight with Anna, and I think she hates me.”