Читать книгу Gabriel's Bride - Suzannah Davis, Suzannah Davis - Страница 9

Little girl…

Sarah Ann folded Gramps’s pajama top with a savage snap of her wrists.

Out of your league…

Her face burned. The arrogance. The utter gall!

Try this…

Teeth gritted, she slapped the pj’s onto the bureau, then cast an anxious look at the wizened man asleep in the hospital bed. The window blinds were closed against the glare of a lingering sunset and the room was dim, illuminated only by the pale light of the fluorescent fixture above the narrow bed. Silver stubble sprouted on Harlan Dempsey’s weathered cheeks, and the IV tube dripped quietly into a thin arm, but he didn’t stir.

Sarah Ann drew a deep breath, wrinkling her nose at the familiar scents of disinfectant and alcohol, but nothing calmed her rankled feelings. Her stomach hadn’t stopped churning since the previous afternoon’s debacle. Damn Gabriel Thornton! Just who did he think he was?

Well, she wasn’t some simpleminded schoolgirl, easily intimidated by a mere kiss! Her thoughts balked at the word mere, then skittered away from the toe-curling memory of masterful lips and raw male power. Granted, he’d taken her completely off guard, but that’s because she’d been under the impression that the days of Neanderthal men were over and that a Texas drawl bespoke some old standard of Southern chivalry.

Wrong on both accounts.

Well, she wouldn’t make the mistake of underestimating him again. And there would be a next time. Someday, somewhere, Gabe Thornton would get his comeuppance, she guaranteed it. In the meantime, she still had to do her best for Gramps, and she was fresh out of ideas.

The bedside phone jangled, and she jumped to catch it on the first ring. Gramps murmured something indistinguishable and fitful, then subsided, snoring softly again.

“Sarah Ann, is that you?”

Suppressing a grimace of irritation, she tugged the phone cord to its length and stepped to the window to peer out between the slats. Her voice was low. “Hello, Douglas.”

Douglas Ritchie’s well-modulated words rumbled over the line. “Can you speak up? I can hardly hear you.”

“Gramps is sleeping.” Absently, she untucked her plain knit shirt from the waistband of her denim shorts and pulled her ponytail loose, getting more comfortable for the evening visiting hours still ahead of her.

“How is he today?”

“About the same.” She combed tired fingers through the mass of her hair, sighing at the sensation. “Weak.”

“And the doctors still don’t have any answers? That’s unacceptable. If I were you, I’d start thinking about malpractice—”

She stiffened. “Not now, Douglas, please.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. That was thoughtless. You know I’d never do anything to upset you.”

“Yes, I know.”

That was the whole problem, Sarah Ann thought. How did you tell a nice guy and successful Realtor like Douglas Ritchie that you just weren’t interested?

Gabe’s blunt question “Don’t you have a boyfriend…?” rang in her ears again, staining her cheeks with chagrin.

While she wouldn’t exactly call herself experienced, she’d had several, thank you very much, including one serious beau she’d almost married before she’d dropped out of college to help Gramps. Her almost-fiancé had opted out at that point, unwilling to take on a wife with responsibilities.

After that disappointment she’d been much too busy to worry about her social life. It was hard to cultivate those kinds of friendships when you were up at dawn running a struggling tomato farm and orange groves, keeping up with the bookkeeping, taking up the slack in the warehouse, even doing some of the tractor driving, then falling into bed exhausted every night.

Lately, however, there was a difference of opinion on the boyfriend question, at least in Lostman’s Island. But just because you’d been going out occasionally for the past year with the only guy who asked, and the whole town had begun to assume you were a couple, did that have to make it so?

Tall and bespectacled, Douglas was a soft-spoken teddy bear who’d been so solicitous during Gramps’s illness Sarah Ann would have felt like the most ungrateful wretch in the world to break things off. And she’d found it flattering to have a man pursue her, even though his conversation bored her to tears and his kisses were lackluster. But she felt guilty taking advantage of his good nature and had decided that the only honorable course of action was to gently, but firmly, decline any further invitations.

Unfortunately Douglas didn’t seem to be getting the message. And to ask him to pretend to be her fiancé to ease Gramps’s worries would only encourage him unnecessarily just when she most wanted to disentangle herself.

“Why don’t you let me take you out for dinner tonight?” he asked. “I hear the Cotton Patch has great chicken-fried steak.”

The thought of a greasy, crusty mass of beef in a plastic basket of fries held even less appeal than making conversation with Douglas. “Thanks, but I really can’t.”

“You’re swamped taking care of the farm and staying at the hospital, too, aren’t you? Sure, sweetheart, I understand.” His words were full of kindness and concern and made Sarah Ann feel guiltier than ever.

“You try to do too much,” he said. “One of these days you’re going to have to let me help you out from under all that responsibility. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“That’s not nec—” The dial tone buzzed in her ear. Chewing her lip, she turned to hang up the receiver.

“You ought not to turn the boy down. He’ll get discouraged.”

Smiling into a pair of surprisingly bright blue eyes, Sarah Ann bent over the bed and squeezed her grandfather’s hand. His deeply tanned skin was wrinkled from a lifetime of outdoor work, but his halo of wispy gray hair gave him a gnomish charm.

“Hey, there, sleepyhead. How was your nap?”

“Don’t change the subject, girlie. That Douglas would marry you in a minute if you’d give him the least bit of encouragement.”

She kept her voice light. “I’m not in love with Douglas.”

“Pshaw.” Harlan’s face was drawn with fatigue, but his spirit was as cantankerous as ever. “What do young.folks know about that? Time was when two people—”

“Did I tell you Charlie came by with the ‘dozer bid?” Sarah Ann interrupted. “If we get those damaged orchards cleared, we can replant right away.”

“Damn hurricanes. Always causing trouble,” he grumbled, sidetracked for the moment. “What about the roof on the tractor shed?”

“That’s next on the list.” She mentally counted all the other things that needed doing, too. The thought of climbing a ladder and hammering tin filled her with dread, but she’d do what she had to do. She always did. Keeping her tone cheerful, she added, “Oh, and we got next season’s contracts from the farmers co-op.”

“Those orange-eating buzzards! Until some other outfit puts in a new processing plant and gives them some competition, they’ll try to steal us blind.”

“I can handle it, Gramps.”

“No, dad-blame it, you can’t!” In the blink of an eye, Harlan worked himself into a state, harping back over ground they’d covered time and again. “And I won’t be around to tend to things for you.”

“Don’t say that, Gramps.” She tried vainly to keep the distress out of her voice. “You’re going to get well and come home very soon.”

“Time to face facts, girlie.” He wheezed painfully, and his gnarled, work-worn hands made restless circles across the white sheets. “Looks like I’ve run out of aces. Damnation, but I thought you’d be settled with a good man and a passel of babies by now. If you and Douglas—”

“Forget about him.”

He slapped a shaky fist against the bed rail, his voice quivering with both anger and physical weakness. “If you aren’t going to marry the boy, then I’m going to take him up on his offer.”

“What offer?”

“To buy the whole place, lock, stock and barrel.”

Shock widened her eyes. “What!”

Harlan nodded. “He said he’d be glad to help out, and that’ll give you a nest egg. If you’re set on being an old maid, the least I can do is leave you the money to go back to college and finish out that teacher’s degree.”

“I don’t want that. And I can’t believe you’d sacrifice everything we’ve built for this crazy notion!”

“Crazy, am I?” Mounting agitation mottled his pallid skin, and his chest heaved. “Pass me that there phone, and I’ll show you what’s what!”

The look on his face alarmed her, as did the racking cough that shook his wiry frame.

“That’s all right, Gramps. Let’s talk calmly about it, okay?” She tried to placate him with a smile and reached for the plastic pitcher and glass on the bedside table. “Here, have some water.”

“Hand me the dad-blamed phone!” He shoved the water glass aside, slopping icy liquid down the front of Sarah Ann’s shirt. “I’m gonna see you’re taken care of one way or t’other.”

“Gramps, please—”

He scrabbled for the receiver, swinging IV tubing and coughing harshly. Someone knocked on the door. Nearly frantic with concern now, Sarah Ann rushed to admit the nurse.

Her hands froze on the door handle, and her mouth dropped open. She took in cowboy boots, long jeanclad legs and a white T-shirt stretched over broad shoulders. A pair of aviator sunglasses were hooked to the crew neck.

“What do you want?”

Gabe Thornton’s jaw worked at that hostile demand, but his manner was diffident, even deferential. “Miss Dempsey. I hate to bother you here, but if you could spare a moment, I’d like a word.”

“About what?” Fingers clutching the edge of the door, she cast an anxious glance over her shoulder, unnerved by Gramps’s continued hacking.

Gabe’s tawny gaze touched her, focused briefly on the damp knit clinging to her bosom, then hastily moved on. “My partners and I are very interested in that frontage property.”

Her teeth snapped together. “You’ve got your nerve. Go away.”

“If you’ll just hear me out—”

“Sarah…”

At Gramps’s strangled call, she forgot Gabe and rushed back to the bedside. Her grandfather’s pallor had turned a dull bluish tint. “Oh, my God—Gramps!”

Helplessness and fear paralyzed her, but then Gabe Thornton was beside her, taking in the situation, moving quickly, efficiently, lifting Harlan to a more upright position as easily as if he were a child and stuffing pillows behind his back.

“Take it easy, old-timer.” Gabe’s husky drawl was reassuringly matter-of-fact and held nothing of Sarah Ann’s panic. Balancing Harlan with one brawny arm, he slapped the call button on the wall, spoke quietly at the nurse’s buzz. “Respiratory distress. Get in here. Now.”

To Sarah Ann’s infinite gratitude, the imperative in his tone had a pair of nurses bursting through the door within seconds. Gabe transferred the patient to their capable ministrations. Terrified, Sarah Ann watched them work in a flurry of IV injections, blood pressure cuffs and oxygen tubing. Gabe took her elbow and gently tugged her out of the way.

“He’ll be all right,” he murmured.

She couldn’t answer and was only vaguely aware that she’d clenched a fist into Gabe’s shirt and was holding on to that anchor for dear life. He humored her, allowing the liberty, placing an arm across her back so that she was halfsupported against the bulk of his chest. She didn’t question the arrangement, merely soaked up the strength that seemed to emanate from him along with the warm scent of his skin, a mixture of male musk and soap.

Although it seemed an eternity, within just a few minutes Harlan’s breathing was less labored.

“That’s a lot better, isn’t it, Mr. Dempsey?” the head nurse asked cheerfully. Fifty and stout, Lillian Cannon was no-nonsense, performing her duties and directing her younger companion with absolute control and competency. Over the bed she caught Sarah Ann’s eye and mouthed, “He’s okay now.”

Sarah Ann slumped with relief, bowing her head and resting it for the briefest of seconds against Gabe’s chest. Her heart cried out with the sure foreknowledge of grief to come. “Okay” for now, she thought. But for how much longer?

She had the fleeting sensation of sympathetic fingers stroking her hair. Before she could decide if she was mistaken, embarrassment slammed into her. Cheeks heating, she tried to pull away, too chagrined to even look at Gabe. He let her retreat a bit, but only to guide her with a hand in the small of her back to her grandfather’s bedside. Gramps watched them approach, his blue eyes tired over the clear plastic oxygen mask covering his nose.

“You rest now, Mr. Dempsey,” Lillian said, patting his hand. Then, to Sarah Ann, “Do you know what broughtthis on?”

Guiltily, she swallowed hard and nodded. “A difference of opinion.”

The head nurse gave her a stern look, the kind that said disturbing seriously ill patients in this manner was beneath contempt. “Dr. Stephens said we’ve got to avoid this kind of upset at any cost, you know that.”

“Yes.”

“As long as we understand each other. At any cost.”

Nodding, Lillian signaled her companion and they left. For all that he’d been a great help, Sarah Ann wished fervently Gabe would do the same. Instead, he stood behind her with his arms crossed over his broad chest, a slight frown puckering his brow. Ignoring him, she leaned over the bed rail, trying to make her smile both teasing and encouraging.

“Whew, that was something. But you always like to be the life of the party, don’t you, Gramps?”

Harlan scowled, noticed Gabe then, and managed a croak. “Who—?”

“This is our new neighbor, Gabe Thornton,” Sarah Ann said stiffly, remembering why Gabe was here.

The old man looked blank.

“We talked a while back about a piece of frontage property, Mr. Dempsey,” Gabe explained.

At the mention of property, Harlan’s regard snapped back to Sarah Ann. Behind the mask his words were muffled, but clear. “Call Douglas.”

Dismay chilled her. Even after what he’d just been through, he still wouldn’t give up. “We don’t need him.”

Agitation returning, he struggled to sit up. “Dad-blame it, girlie, I said do it!”

She knew with a certainty that he’d kill himself over this—right before her eyes, here, this minute—if she didn’t do something. Something drastic. Something desperate. Something outrageous.

“I’ve been trying to tell you, Gramps. I’ve got wonderful news.” Turning, Sarah Ann caught Gabe’s hand. Laying it lovingly on the damp spot between her breasts, she beamed up into his stunned face. “Gabriel asked me to marry him—and I said yes!”

“You can’t tell him the truth. Do you want to kill him outright?”

Floating on the evening twilight, Gabe’s voice was savage. “No, it’s you I’m liable to murder, lady! Get in.”

Hauling Sarah Ann around by the arm, he reached for the driver’s door of his army green Jeep. Balking, she tried to dig her heels into the sun-warmed asphalt of the hospital parking lot

“Hold it, buster! I’m not going anywhere with you!”

“The way I see it, you got no choice.” He thrust her into the vehicle, shoving her over into the passenger side as he slid under the wheel. She made a grab for the opposite door handle, but he dragged her back with a jerk. “Sit still.”

“Listen, you—”

“Can it, sister. We’re going to talk, that’s all, and I want the shouting to take place out of earshot.”

She quit struggling. “Oh.”

He waited a moment more, then released her arm. “That’s more like it.”

Scooting into the corner as far away from him as she could, she sent him a resentful look. “I’m sick of your caveman tactics. You manhandle me again and you’ll be walking funny.”

Propping his forearm on the steering wheel, Gabe inspected her from her flowing mane to the slender but shapely turn of her ankles. Her legs weren’t half-bad, actually, he thought, and she blushed at his perusal and tugged uncomfortably at the hem of her shorts. Enjoying her squirming, he blessed her with a sour smile.

“Big talk from a gal your size. Want to try best-two-outof-three falls and see who wins?”

“That’s right, resort to brute strength when all else fails,” she said with a disdainful sniff. “It’s no more than I’d expect from your type.”

“Me? I’ve seen less ruthless behavior from a cobra! You want to tell me why the hell you told your grandpa that bald-faced lie?”

“You know why. You saw how he was,” she muttered. Then her eyes flashed blue-violet in the dusky light. “And you’re the biggest whiner I ever saw. I told you I’d give you the frontage property for doing this one little favor. What more do you want?”

Gabe rubbed his palms down his jaws and contemplated various forms of mayhem. “Not to be involved at all would be nice.”

“Why don’t you accept this gracefully?” She heaved a sigh at the glower he shot at her. “All right, I know I’ve taken advantage, but for a few hours of playacting, you get what you want as well as the satisfaction of sparing an old man needless suffering.”

“Don’t kid me that this is a selfless act. You’re getting something out of it, too.”

“I love my grandfather, not that you’d understand anything as simple as that!” she snapped. “You’re just mad because you’ve been outmaneuvered by a female.”

Gabe felt himself bristling. “Look, lady, I don’t know you or your grandpa from Adam. What if I’m the kind of guy who can say the hell with you and him, too?”

She was silent for a long moment, then spoke slowly, her voice husky. “I guess I’m betting you aren’t.”

That took the wind out of his sails. “Oh, hell.”

She spread her hands in appeal. “Please, Gabriel. I’m really desperate. You saw how happy the news made Gramps, how relieved he was. If I can give him that much before…”

She choked to a stop, pressing her knuckles to her lips. Gabe felt his anger slipping away, along with his resolve. Whatever he felt about this crazy scheme, it was clear she genuinely adored her grandfather. He felt a pang of envy. A woman who cared this deeply would be a prize to anyone she loved.

Rather desperately, he said, “But he wants to witness ‘our’ wedding. You heard him. Have the ceremony in his room, for God’s sake!”

Sarah Ann licked her lips. “We could fake it.”

Her words flabbergasted him, but it was the sight of her tongue darting over her lush mouth that made his belly tighten. Beset by the memory of her taste, he groaned silently and forced the feelings back.

No, he hadn’t been with a woman in a while, and no, he was not going to let an unexpected and unwelcome flash of sexual hunger further complicate this already muddled situation. Hell, he didn’t even like this little conniver!

“You’ve got to be kidding,” he croaked.

“It wouldn’t be that hard. We just need someone to play justice of the peace. It won’t be elaborate. Five minutes is all. Perhaps one of your friends—?”

“God, no!” The thought of explaining all this to Mike and Rafe made him shudder. Talk about looking like a fool!

“Then I’ll find someone,” she said. “There are always people looking to make a few bucks. And I’ll arrange everything else—the ceremony, the rings, the deed of transfer on the land—everything. So…will you do it?”

Feeling boxed in, Gabe rubbed his pounding temple. “I must be as crazy as you are.”

She leaned forward, hopeful. “Then you will?”

Gabe grimaced. In service to his country, he’d been a weapon, and an effective one, but he drew the line at killing old men with words—even truthful ones. So he would mangle his self-respect for a few hours to humor this eccentric female and earn a chunk of land for his trouble. At least his partners would be happy.

“Thanks to you, I don’t have much choice, do I?”

Her breath left her in a little relieved puff. Reaching out, she placed a tentative hand on his shoulder, a peace offering that made his skin burn through the thin knit of his shirt.

“Thank you.” In the gathering darkness, her whisper was breathless with gratitude. “You won’t regret it. It won’t take much time, and after it’s all over, I’ll never bother you again.”

With a prick of foreboding, Gabe wondered if that was a promise or a threat.

Three days later Sarah Ann walked toward Gramps’s hospital room, her seldom-worn dress pumps clicking against the polished tiles like an executioner’s drumroll. Though the corridor was chilly with air-conditioning, she was perspiring beneath her off-white linen sheath, a condition that could only be attributed to a bad case of prenuptial jitters.

Not that what she was about to do with Gabriel Thornton was in any sense real, of course, she told herself sternly. But for Gramps’s sake, even going through the motions had to look genuine.

At six o’clock she would meet Gabe and they would mouth words before a man she’d hired to play the part of justice of the peace. The cousin of a friend of one of her farm hands, he’d assured her he understood her need for discretion, that he’d meet them at the hospital room primed for his role, and that the ceremony would be “a piece of cake.”

That piece of out-and-out dishonesty weighed heavily enough, but the preparations for the actual ceremony itself, deciding what to wear—the plain dress, her mother’s pearls—and how to fix her hair—a French twist to control her waves—had produced an artificial excitement that tied her into nervous knots. She prayed that for the few minutes it took, she could play the part of happy, blushing bride without throwing up.

As she turned a corner, Sarah Ann’s steps faltered at the sight of the tall figure leaning against the windowsill opposite Gramps’s doorway. Swallowing, she realized Gabe had done his breathtaking best to look the part, too. In dark suit and conservative tie, he was a solemn stranger, enigmatic and unapproachable, somewhat frightening, totally fascinating.

Who was he, really? she wondered. It was a bit disheartening to realize that it didn’t matter, for by her own choice his role in her life could be only temporary.

Gabe looked up at the sound of her steps, then straightened to his full height, his eyes piercing her, golden as an eagle’s.

“Hi.”

She tried to smile. “Hello.”

He inspected her—the simple dress, her trembling hands, the upswept hairdo—and something hungry flared in his expression, then was gone. “You look nice.”

“Thanks. So do you.”

She knew her words were stiff, inane, and she closed her eyes briefly, praying for lucidity and composure. She had to get through this—after all, it was her idea! It’s just business, she recited like a mantra.

Reaching into her small clutch purse, she passed him a folded document. “Your deed. Everything’s filed at the courthouse.”

He shoved the paper inside his jacket without looking at it. “Thank you.”

“And here are the rings. I had to guess at the size.” With a tremulous laugh, she passed him a small box, and he shoved it into a pants pocket. “Lord, this is awkward, isn’t it?”

“Deception always is, Sarah.”

Stricken, she didn’t know what to say. Frowning, Gabe raised his hand and touched her face, running a thumb under her jawbone, gently fingering the pearl stud in her ear.

“I forget you’re a novice at this kind of thing,” he muttered. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’m an old hand at it. I’ll guide you through.”

The warmth of his skin stroking hers made her shiver. “Is that supposed to reassure me?”

A slow grin curled his mouth. “It should.”

“I’ll try to remember.”

“In the meantime…” Turning to the windowsill, he picked up a bundle, removed a layer of tissue and offered her a ribbon-wrapped bouquet of red roses. “Maybe you should hold on to these.”

Mystified, touched beyond words, she took the flowers, marveling at their velvety texture and inhaling their sweetness. “Oh, Gabe, they’re exquisite.”

“Just doing my part to keep up appearances.”

Like a dash of cold water, that jolted her from her haze. It’s just business. “Well, thank you. You shouldn’t have gone to the trouble.”

“Beulah cut them.”

Sarah Ann sucked in a breath. “You told her? About this?”

“What do you think I am—crazy? No, don’t answer that.” He shook his head, his brow wrinkling as if pondering a riddle. “But she left them on the table, and they looked right, so here they are. How she knew…sometimes I think she’s a witch.”

“At any rate, it’s a nice touch. You should have one, too.” She plucked a bud and stuck it in his lapel. “They’re really quite lovely.”

“Yeah.” He searched her face for a long moment, then tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. “Ready to get this over with?”

Drawing a breath for courage, she nodded. “Yes.”

Gabe pushed open the door and ushered her inside.

“There they are,” Gramps said in a hearty voice. “About time!”

Sarah Ann blinked, taken aback by the unexpected sea of smiling faces that greeted them. Gramps sat propped upright in his bed, clean-shaven and looking dapper and more cheerful than he had in weeks. Beside him stood his oldest friend, retired Judge Henry Holt, stout and graying, ing, but still vigorous at seventy-five. A fresh-faced young man wearing a rather shiny suit and holding a Bible stood before a makeshift bower of flowers and greenery, apparently the work of Lillian, the head nurse, and her staff, who waited to one side, white uniformed and dewy-eyed with expectation.

“My goodness.” Sarah Ann’s voice was faint. Beside her, Gabe breathed an expletive.

Lillian bustled up to them, all goodwill. “Now, don’t be upset with our little surprise, Sarah Ann. When Harlan told us your plans, we just couldn’t help getting into the spirit of things. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Oh, no, of course not.”

“I know how busy you’ve been, and of course, all the details, the blood tests—”

“Blood tests?” Sarah Ann echoed, shooting a wide-eyed glance at Gabe.

“Don’t tell me you forgot?” Lillian asked. Reading Sarah Ann’s dismay and totally misinterpreting it, she took charge. “Well, we can take care of that right now! Charlotte, hand me that tray.”

Before they had a chance to protest, Lillian pricked their fingers, prepared slides and sent the tray off to the lab.

“There, all done. A whirlwind courtship, wasn’t it? It’s so romantic,” the nurse said with a sigh. She patted Gabe’s arm. “Congratulations, young man. You’re getting a mighty fine gal.”

Gabe cleared his throat. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“Come here, girlie, and give your old Gramps a hug,” Harlan ordered from the bed. Sarah Ann obliged. When she released him, Harlan offered his hand to Gabe, shook it soundly. “I want to welcome you to the family, son. You’re both making me a mighty happy man today.”

Gabe cleared his throat again. “Thank you, sir.”

“I’m glad you’re happy, Gramps.” Tears prickled behind Sarah Ann’s lids.

“Now, none of that,” he chided, then turned to his old friend. “Tell her, Henry. It’s a happy time.”

“Good gracious, yes!” the judge agreed. “And this is your intended?”

He pumped Gabe’s hand, beaming. “Harlan asked me to be a witness. Flat tickled me, I don’t mind telling you. Got all the necessary paperwork right here.” He patted his jacket pocket. “I knew you wouldn’t mind, so I’ve taken care of everything. I still have some pull down at the courthouse. Got you one of their gold-embossed licenses. Made it real special.”

“Ah, Sarah and I appreciate it,” Gabe said, his words strangled.

“Are we ready to get started?” the young man with the Bible asked hopefully.

“Absolutely!” Gabe took Sarah Ann’s arm and positioned them in front of the bower, evoking a titter of indulgent laughter from the witnesses at his apparent eagerness.

Only Sarah Ann knew that it was really his desperation to have this charade behind them, and it matched her own. She’d had no idea it would be so hard! At least her counterfeit justice of the peace was ready to do the job he’d been paid for. She caught his eye, trying to convey silent messages: Get on with it! Make it look good! Hurry!

All she got was a puzzled look in return, but then he started reading with all due solemnity and restored her confidence. “Dearly Beloved…”

It was the work of barely five minutes, the recitation of names, the exchange of rings and vows. Sarah Ann’s fingers were icy; Gabe’s replies as wooden as her own. Fraud, her guilty conscience whispered. Liar. But one look at Gramps’s face, and she knew she would do it all again, a hundred times over if necessary.

The young man closed his Bible, smiling cordially at the couple in front of him. “Now, by the power vested in me by the state of Florida—”

The door burst open, spilling bodies and boisterous commotion into the already-overcrowded room.

“Where’s the wedding?” roared a swarthy man with oiled-down hair and a polyester suit. His eyes lit up in triumph at the sight of flowers and guests, but his voice was slurred. “Oh, ho, fellows! This has gotta be the place! Had a hell of a time finding it, though, didn’t we? Why don’t they have more signs? We ain’t brain surgeons.”

His scruffy companions nodded, laughed uproariously at this apparent witticism and leered at the group of nurses. Revolted, Sarah Ann took an involuntary step backward, grateful to have Gabe’s protecting arm at her waist.

“Here now, what’s the meaning of this?” Judge Holt demanded. “Good God, man, you’re drunk!”

“I ain’t,” the intruder replied indignantly. He lifted a beer bottle and grinned. “Just celebrating the festivities ahead of time. Carrot-headed fellow down at the Whistling Pirate kept buying rounds, ain’t that right, boys?”

“A swell guy,” one of his friends agreed. “Big, too. Drink a keg of beer all by himself.”

“Well, we sure gave him some help.” Taking a final swallow, the leader tossed the empty bottle in a nearby wastebasket, rubbed his hands, and looked around expectantly. “Okay, let’s get this show on the road!”

“Mister,” Gabe growled, “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“Wait a minute! I been hired to do a job, and by gum, I’m gonna do it! Which one of you is the Dempsey gal? You want a justice of the peace or not?”

“Justice of the—” Horror stole Sarah Ann’s breath, clogged her throat. “You?”

Belligerent now, the man scowled. “You hired me, didn’t you? Paid good money for this part. Just ‘cause a man’s a little late…”

She swung to the man holding the Bible. “Then who’s this?”

“Why, Reverend Cullen, girlie,” Harlan said. “The new hospital chaplain.”

Sarah Ann’s knees buckled. Gabe caught her, steadying her until she found her feet again. Their eyes met. Realization dawned. An ordained clergyman. Blood tests. The judge’s license.

She saw the wrath building in Gabe’s expression, saw the house of cards she’d been trying to build for Gramps tumble and fall. Panic consumed her, made her voice a thin wail. “Oh, my God.”

“We’re churchgoing folks,” Harlan continued. “I couldn’t have my granddaughter married by a civil servant.”

“Certainly not!” Lillian snapped, recovering her authority. “And this one’s a pure disgrace to his calling! You men, out!” Like a drill sergeant, she herded the protesting intruders outside, slammed the door behind them and restored order. “Go ahead, Reverend.”

Nonplussed, Reverend Cullen fumbled with the Bible. “Uh, ahem. Where were we? Oh, yes.”

Trapped within the circle of Gabe’s arms, Sarah Ann trembled uncontrollably as the clergyman blessed them with a benign smile.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride.”