Читать книгу Their Child? - Karen Rose Smith, Christine Rimmer - Страница 13

Lena’s wedding day dawned bright and sunny. The weather report called for thunderstorms later in the day. But Lena, blue eyes shining, declared that no icky bad weather would dare come and ruin the most beautiful, important day of her life.

The ceremony took place at the Billingsworth family church—the Church of the Way of Our Lord, to be specific—with Pastor Partridge presiding. The guests oohed and ahhed at the sight of the sanctuary, where lilies and roses, festooned with ivy and white satin ribbon, dripped from every available surface. More flowers stood in tall vases along the aisles and at the altar.

The place was packed. By the time the first familiar chords of the wedding march filled the air, it was standing room only.

Lena’s three flower girls, in green satin dresses, hair braided with ribbons and rosebuds, strolled down the white satin carpet that had been rolled out by two of the groomsmen before the wedding march began. All three little girls wore adorable shy smiles and carried ribbonbedecked baskets full of pink and green silk petals. They cast the petals out along the satin aisle as they went.

Next were Lena’s lifelong girlfriends, her bridesmaids and matrons, all eight of them in shimmering celery-green silk, each with a bouquet of pale pink roses and Peruvian lilies.

Lori, as matron of honor, followed the bridesmaids. Her gown was blush-pink, her flowers white roses tipped with green, threaded with green ribbon and ivy, rimmed in green lace. About five slow steps toward the groomsmen waiting at the altar, she made the mistake of glancing slightly to the right.

And there he was. Tucker. In the sixth row, with Tate and Molly.

Tucker caught Lori’s eye and held it. She almost stumbled.

But she recovered just in time. She pulled her shoulders back, set her gaze firmly front where it belonged and continued her slow, stately progress toward the altar.

The best man took her hand and guided her to her spot at his side and then, with all the bridal attendants in place, the music swelled louder and Lena appeared in a long-waisted snow-white gown sewn all over with seed pearls. She carried a cascade of white Casablanca lilies, gardenias, freesias and roses twined with faux pearls and heart-shaped ivy. At the sight of her, a long, admiring sigh seemed to rise from every throat.

It was Lena’s shining moment and she knew what to do with it. Through the white froth of her veil, she had eyes only for Dirk as she proceeded along the satin-carpeted, petal-strewn aisle. When she reached her groom at last, she handed her huge, trailing bouquet to Lori and she and Dirk turned to face Pastor Partridge.

The sacred exchange of vows began. Dirk faltered once or twice. A fast talker as a rule, he seemed struck speechless by the moment. Lena’s voice was strong and clear and never wavered.

Lori’s thoughts, there at the altar with her sister’s wedding flowers in her hands, were not easy ones.

All her life, Lori had judged her twin and found Lena lacking. Deep down, Lori had considered herself superior to Lena in the ways that really mattered. To Lori’s eyes, Lena, with her bright smiles and charming ways, only skimmed the surface of life. Lori, the quiet one, the straight-A student, had seen herself as thoughtful, as the one with real depth.

Now, today, standing there at the altar, Lori faced a hard truth: Lena was the better woman. Lena had waited for just the right guy. And when she found him, she never hesitated. She set about proudly and joyfully binding her life with his. Lena might have a selfish side, but she was also open and aboveboard about what she wanted and where she was headed.

Lori, on the other hand, had yet to even manage to tell her child’s father that he was a dad.

In spite of her determination not to look in his direction, her gaze shifted again to Tucker in the sixth row. His eyes were waiting. Full of heat and hope.

And promises, too.

Dear God. The way he looked at her…

Like Dirk looked at Lena. Like Tate looked at Molly. As if she, Lori, was the only woman in the world.

Incredible. Her dream of all those years ago had somehow become reality: Tucker Bravo was looking only at her.

He saw her now. He’d told her so, that night out by the pool. He saw her now and he was interested.

More than interested.

And, Lori admitted to herself as her sister said, “I do,” she was more than interested, too.

It was like some fairy tale come true.

Or it might have been, if not for the secret and the tangled, suffocating web of her lies.

Black clouds boiled up to the southwest as the bride and groom ducked into the long, white limo for the ride to the Throckleford County Country Club. The promised rain was on the way.

But folks weren’t all that worried about the weather. The gala reception would be held at the club, a big sit-down dinner in the main dining room and then dancing in the adjacent ballroom late into the night. A little thunderstorm or two wouldn’t matter, with the festivities being held indoors.

Tucker, who had slipped out of the church ahead of everyone else, reached the clubhouse well before the other guests. He tossed his keys to the parking attendant and went straight up the wide front staircase, through the main foyer to the dining room, with its eggplant-purple walls, white woodwork and ornately framed paintings of misty country scenes.

Sometimes, looking back, Tucker felt as if he’d grown up at the club. Ol’ Tuck was always dragging them out there for family dinners—dinners they shared in that very dining room—or for any number of gala events put together by his grandmother and her women friends. Tucker knew every nook and cranny of the clubhouse. He and Tate and their friends used to sneak away from the adult festivities to hide in the housekeeping closets and run up and down the main staircase in the foyer.

Lena’s wedding dinner was going to be one hell of a sit-down. There were at least forty round tables set with blinding-white linen and gold-rimmed crystal and china. Down at the far end, on a raised platform, stood a lone rectangular table set for six. That one had to be for the bride and groom and their two sets of parents. Tucker took a wild guess that, as the matron of honor, Lori would be seated somewhere near that main table.

He was right. He found her place card—and Brody’s to the right of it—directly in front of the dais. Then he went looking for his own place.

Ten minutes later he hit pay dirt. His seat was just about dead center among the sea of tables, with Molly and Tate to his right.

Feeling no shame at all, he snatched up his place card, carried it up front and switched it with the one on Lori’s left.

If any of the scurrying serving staff noticed he was messing with the seating, they didn’t call him on it. They were too busy straightening silverware and making certain the impressive floral centerpieces wouldn’t block the guests’ views of their dinner companions.

The switch accomplished, Tucker headed for the Cottonwood Room—the club’s dim, wood-paneled lounge. He took a seat at the bar and enjoyed a Scotch and water while he waited for the arrival of the rest of the wedding party.

Tucker returned to the dining room twenty minutes later. By then, the tables were filling up fast. The big room hummed with a hundred conversations. The serving staff moved in and out between the tables, setting out bread and butter, serving champagne, Cokes and cold tea on request. From a corner of the room, a sixpiece band played “It Had to Be You,” keeping it low, so folks could chat.

Lori and Brody were already seated. Tucker stopped near the door from the foyer and drank in the sight of them. As he watched, Lori leaned her bright head toward Brody. Her lips moved. Brody nodded and picked up his napkin, which sat on his plate folded into the shape of a swan. He shook it out and spread it in his lap.

Tucker grinned. The kid looked cute in a suit, his brown hair all slicked down, a wild little cowlick sticking up at the crown. Tucker knew about cowlicks and what a pain they could be. He had one, too, in just about the same spot as Brody’s. He had to wear his hair long or in a slight spike, as he did now, to keep it in hand.

And Lori…

Damn.

Tucker openly stared, oblivious to everything but the woman in pink, thinking how he’d never seen her look so beautiful as she did that afternoon, her sleek red hair coiled high on her head, wearing that simple, elegant dress that hugged all her curves and made her delicate skin glow.

Yeah. She did shine in pink. She had that touch of cool rose in her coloring that made it work.

She reminded him of…

He blinked.

And time itself seemed to fall away. He went spinning backward, into that May night eleven years ago.

Lena had worn pink that night. And she’d outshone every other girl at the prom. They had danced every dance. He wouldn’t let any of the other guys even get near her.

That night had changed everything—or so he’d thought when it was happening. That night, though he didn’t tell Lena then, he decided that he wasn’t letting her break up with him, after all. That night, he didn’t care in the least that the big, wide world and all the strange, exotic, mysterious places in it, would never be his to know or explore. That night, he only wanted to stay right there, in his hometown, with Lena held close in his arms…

Lena…

So strange.

He could see his younger self, looking down at her as she whirled in his arms. Lena…

Or was it?

Right now, as he pictured Lena, smiling softly, gazing up at him on that long-ago night, it wasn’t Lena he saw. He was sure of it. He looked down and…

He saw Lori in his arms.

It couldn’t be. It wasn’t. Of course not. His mind was playing weird tricks on him, that was all.

Still, somewhere deep at the center of himself, he was certain…

Blazing heat flooded up under the collar of his silk dress shirt. The walls pressed in on him. He couldn’t breathe.

And then Lori looked up from the table where she sat with Brody. She saw him.

And she smiled. Sheepishly. Hopefully.

Damn. She was beautiful.

And somehow, her smile did the trick. The world righted itself. Everything spun back into place.

The past wasn’t now.

Just as Lori wasn’t Lena.

He almost laughed out loud at his own idiocy. It made a strange kind of sense, he supposed—that now, with the way he felt about Lori, it would seem to him that it must have been her and not her twin he held in his arms that night.

Funny, how a man’s mind could play tricks on him when his heart got involved.

And as much as that one night still haunted him now and then, as much as what had happened then didn’t quite add up—as much as, when he looked back on it, he was troubled by the idea that Lena hadn’t really seemed like Lena…

It simply didn’t matter. It was years ago. Lena was over it and so was he. They had both moved on.

What mattered was right now. What mattered was the hopeful smile on Lori Lee’s soft mouth.

Someone jostled his elbow. “‘Scuse me,” he said automatically, not sparing so much as a glance for whoever had bumped him. He started forward, eyes on the prize, moving swift and sure around the tables, until he reached Lori’s side.

“Tucker!” Brody’s face lit up in a wide smile of greeting.

He gave the boy an answering grin. “Hey, Brody. How you doing?”

“Okay.” Brody stuck his finger under his collar. “‘Cept for this suit.” He made choking noises.

“Brody,” Lori warned softly. Brody heaved a sigh and took his finger out of his collar.

Tucker winked at him. “Lookin’ good, though.”

“You think?” Brody stretched his neck and smoothed his kid-size tie.

“No doubt about it.” Tucker dared to turn his gaze to the woman in pink. “And you…” There were no words. He said the one that came closest. “Beautiful.”

Her soft mouth trembled on a radiant smile. “Why, thank you…”

He reached down and plucked the place card from the empty spot beside her. “Well, what do you know? This is my seat.”

Her expression said she’d already looked at his place card. Still, she teased, “No way…”

He turned the card around so she could read his name—just in case she hadn’t already. “Yep. ‘Fraid so.” He pulled back the chair and slid into it, grabbing his swan-shaped napkin and shaking it out to lay it across his lap.

She leaned close. He got a whiff of her scent, a light scent, as tempting as the sight of her in that pink dress. She asked out of the side of her mouth, “Where did you put Charlie Bowline? He was here a few minutes ago. Apparently, one of the ushers told him he was seated at this table.”

Tucker turned his head enough to snare her gaze. And smiled. Slowly. He watched her lips soften and part a fraction. Her eyes changed, clear blue going soft and smoky.

He said, “Mr. Charles Bowline will be sitting with Tate and Molly Bravo. If he ever manages to find his seat, I’m sure he’ll have a terrific time. Tate and Molly are a lot of fun.”

“Charlie is the best man, you know,” she murmured chidingly.

“Don’t say that. You’ll hurt my feelings.”

She pressed her lips together to keep from laughing, but still the corners of that sweet mouth trembled. “Dirk’s best man, I mean.”

“And I hope he finds his seat quickly.” A waiter filled his gold-edged flute with champagne. He lifted it toward Lori. She picked hers up and they tapped them together.

“Hey. Me, too.” Brody had his Coke raised high.

Tucker tapped the kid’s glass and so did Lori. “To the best man, wherever he may be.”

The food came—skewered shrimp and then salads and a main course of filet mignon and stuffed baked potatoes. It was damn good, all of it. Surprising, considering the size of the crowd. In Tucker’s experience, the bigger the dinner, the worse the food.

Not that the food mattered. To Tucker, the company was what counted—and since the company included Lori, all was right with the world.

They chatted with the other guests at their table—two couples from Abilene, friends of Dirk’s family, and a sweet elderly lady: Dirk’s great-aunt. Beyond the tall windows, the sky slowly darkened to pewter-gray as the promised storm rolled in. Not a problem. They were all safe and dry and having a great time.

Neither Tucker nor Lori mentioned the mysterious appointment she had with him Monday, or their phone conversation the previous Sunday, when she’d as good as said she’d never go out with him. By unspoken agreement, they kept things light and general.

That was okay with Tucker.

She was beside him and he saw no reason she wouldn’t stay there for the rest of the afternoon—even on into the evening if he got really lucky.

There would be dancing.

Oh, yeah. He was a happy man.

Everything seemed workable, now. The afternoon and evening stretched out ahead of them. Sunday, he’d see her at church and at the diner. And Monday…well, she’d set that up herself. Whatever legal matter she wanted to discuss with him, she’d be right there in his office.

He’d have another chance to convince her of how they should be spending more time together.

Like, say, the rest of their lives.

No. He smiled to himself. He wasn’t going to push her too fast. He would take it nice and easy and slow…

After the main course was cleared off, Heck Billingsworth, up at the bride’s table, rose and tapped his water goblet with his fork.

“Ahem, ahem. Ladies and gents. I’d like to say a few words about how much this special day means to Enid and me…”

Brody sat patiently through several rounds of toasting. But all that sitting was a lot to ask of a ten-year-old boy. By then, the other kids in the room were either fiddling around in the doorways or disappearing into the main foyer, just like Tucker and Tate used to do at similar events when they were kids.

Brody leaned close to Lori and whispered, “Mom. Can I go play with the other kids now?”

She let him go, after getting a promise that he’d stay in the main entrance area or in the ballroom, where she could find him. “No wandering off outside. I mean it.”

“I won’t, Mom. I promise.” And Brody was out of there before Dirk’s father could rise to offer yet another toast.

A half an hour later, after everybody and his brother had taken a turn at raising a glass, Heck stood and announced that the band would be moving to the ballroom. Outside, thunder rolled and lightning blazed down from the dark belly of the clouds.

Heck let out his booming laugh. “This here’s Texas, ladies and gentlemen. No puny thunderstorm is going to spoil our good time.”

Answering laughter rippled through the crowd. Everyone applauded.

Tucker pushed back his chair and offered Lori his hand. “The first dance is mine.”

She laid her soft hand in his.