A Country Wedding

by Duncan Leigh

  In the bedroom she’d decorated with hand-me-downs and items she’d found at tag sales, she tugged an old wooden box from beneath the wrought iron bed. Layers of quilts and blankets sank beneath her as she settled onto the mattress and lifted the lid of the treasure box her dad had made. Leather hinges creaked. She drank in the scent of old paper, aged cedar, and memories.

  Setting aside the colored pencil drawing that had taken first place in the eighth grade art show, she thumbed through the stacks of ribbons she’d won in riding competitions, the report cards filled with A’s, the awards. Her fingertips brushed against velvety softness. There it was, tucked into the corner, right where she’d put it all those years ago. She retrieved the small cloth bag and loosened the drawstring. A diamond solitaire fell into the palm of her hand when she upended the pouch. She held the ring up to the light and smiled, remembering the day she’d wed Bradley Suttons.

  When she couldn’t find her best friend anywhere in the house crowded with people and hothouse flowers, she’d somehow known he’d be in the old barn. Careful not to ruin her best dress, she’d climbed the rickety ladder into the loft. There, amid the dust motes that danced in the beams of sunlight that seeped through cracks in the barn’s wood-slatted walls, she’d found him. He’d been sitting alone, his tightly pressed lips wobbling, his chin tucked down like a bird with a broken wing. She’d plopped down on a bale of hay left over from the previous winter and faced him.

  “It’s okay to cry, Brad-Bird. I won’t tell anyone,” she’d promised. Anyone who’d lost his parents was allowed a few tears.

  But Bradley hadn’t cried. He hadn’t even looked up from the shiny surface of his leather shoes. “I can’t believe I have to move away from here.”

  “It’ll be fine. You’re so smart and everything.” She wished she could think of something that would help his heart heal.

  “Guess I’m sort of an orphan now. I don’t really have a family anymore.”

  That had to be the worst. The entire Standor family—her grandparents, aunts, uncles and a whole passel of cousins—all lived within walking distance. But Bradley only had one aunt and uncle, and they lived clear across the country in Tennessee. By this time next week, he’d be living with them in a house he’d never seen before, attending classes in a school where he didn’t know a soul. She had to do something—anything—to make it better for him, but what?

  “Hey.” His footsteps heavy, their friend Adam slowly trudged up the stairs to join them. Behind him, loose hay sifted onto the floor below. “I was looking for you guys.”

  Suddenly, she knew. “Let’s get married.”

  “What?” The look Bradley gave her said she’d lost her mind.

  “We should get married.” The idea had come to her out of the blue, but it made perfect sense. “Then, we can be each other’s family.”

  Though some of the sadness faded from Bradley’s eyes, he shook his head. “We’re only thirteen. We can’t get married.”

  “Yes, we can. This is my barn, so I make the rules.” She glanced around. From the tack draped across the stair rail to the bales of hay to the sunlight that streamed in through the big sliding door on the ground floor, she knew every inch of the barn as well as she knew the freckles on her arms. She’d raised puppies in the back stall, had taken her first pony ride down the wide middle aisle, felt the velvety noses of her dad’s racehorses when she fed them apple slices. The barn was her kingdom, and she dared anyone to tell her what she could or couldn’t do in it. Getting married to Bradley was the right thing to do. “You’re my best friend, and I say we can do anything we want.”

  “How are we supposed to get married?” A faint trace of interest crept into Bradley’s voice.

  “I can marry you.” Adam’s gaze swung between his two friends. “My dad’s a pastor. I’ve seen him do it, like, a hundred times. It’s not that hard.”

  One look at the hope that gleamed in Bradley’s eyes banished all her doubts. Her best friend needed a family. What better way to give him one than for them to get married? Wasn’t family what marriage was all about?

  Shaking off thoughts from long ago, Sarah slipped the ring onto the fourth finger of her left hand and admired how the light glinted off the diamond. Not that she had any intention of keeping it. She grabbed a sheet of stationary and a pen from the roll-top desk where, among other things, she’d written a dozen letters to the Equine Rehabilitation Fund. Though Bradley’s ring had to be worth a sizeable amount, maybe even enough to settle all her debts, it wasn’t hers. Not really. The ring belonged to a boy she’d once loved enough to marry. That boy was gone now. He’d grown into a man who’d gotten himself engaged to Catherine Mann. And, without giving herself a chance to reconsider, Sarah began to write.

  Chapter Two

  Bradley rubbed the petals of the white camellia between his fingers. The blossoms in the vase were real, all right. He shook his head, not understanding the need for such an ostentatious display. He’d whistled when he’d gotten the bill for a bouquet he’d sent Catherine last month, and it had included just one of the fancy blooms. After that, he’d told his assistant to steer clear of the pricey flowers. But Margaret Feldberg, talent agent to the stars, had ordered up a dozen of the expensive blooms, then stuck them in a vase clear across the room where she couldn’t even enjoy them. Waste like that was one part of the lifestyle of the rich and famous he didn’t think he’d ever get used to. Thank goodness he and Catherine had opted to live a simpler life, starting with their wedding.

  Speaking of which…

  He’d wandered across to the window while Catherine and her agent discussed upcoming appearances and photo ops. Their conversation had droned on for a while now, but it hooked his attention again when talk drifted to his and Catherine’s recently announced engagement. He turned away from the window that overlooked Rodeo Drive.

  From her seat in the plush white leather chair behind the ultra-sleek and modern desk, Margaret’s voice trilled. “I am getting calls from People, from Vanity Fair. They all want to photograph your wedding. And they’re willing to pay huge!” The middle-aged redhead flung her hands out wide. The tips of her brightly colored nails clawed the air.

  “Not gonna happen.” Bradley hooked his thumbs into the pockets of his jeans. Though he’d gotten the wind knocked out of him when Catherine had announced their engagement on national television, she’d explained that her enthusiasm had simply gotten the best of her. Now that he’d had time to get used to the idea, he had to admit that having their engagement out in the open had its perks. As long as they were keeping their relationship under wraps, he’d kept his distance from Catherine whenever they were out in public…which was most of the time. With the cat out of the bag, they could act like any engaged couple, and no one would think twice about it.

  But he wouldn’t allow the paparazzi to turn their solemn exchange of vows into a spectacle. He and Catherine had agreed on a simple ceremony in an Italian vineyard. He dug his thumbs a little deeper into the pockets of his jeans and stood firm. “We want a private wedding.”

  Catherine shot him a glance filled with promise. “Yes. We want something intimate and personal.”

  Glad he and his fiancée were on the same page, Bradley barely flinched at Margaret’s disbelieving gasp.

  “Why?” The agent clutched her chest. With a reverence usually reserved for church, she argued, “A wedding should be shared with those who love you most—your fans.”

  Bradley stifled a grin. Did Margaret actually think she could change their minds on an issue that was so important to them? While the agent had an uncanny talent for getting her clients’ names prominently featured in the press, this was one time when she’d be better off saving her breath, because he and Catherine had made their choice. There’d be no Hollywood hoopla at their wedding.

  Though the agent was far too tenacious to give up on the idea, the chagrined expression on M
argaret’s face told him she’d gotten his message. Pouting, she lifted a thick manila envelope from the corner of the immense slab of polished granite that served as her desk. “By the way,” she said, holding out the package, “this came for you.”

  “What is it?” He sensed a ruse and forced a healthy dose of skepticism into his gaze. Rather than reaching for the envelope that had arrived in the mail pouch his own agent forwarded to Margaret’s office each day while he was in L.A., he propped his hands on the back of one of the leather chairs.

  “Oh, I have no idea.” All breathy innocence, Margaret dangled the envelope between her fingers. Her breath caught as if a new thought had just occurred to her. “But I bet it’s a fan. Writing you a letter for an autograph because they love you and they want to be a part of your life.” As if she smelled victory, her smile widened. “And that is why you need to share the happy day with them.”

  Bradley shook his head. Um, no. Margaret’s act might work on the Hollywood starlets and actors she usually represented, but he knew what he and Catherine wanted. His stomach tightening ever so slightly, he looked to his bride-to-be for confirmation. Relief loosened the knot in his gut when her honeyed laugh sounded through the room. The sparkle in her eyes soothed his fears.

  Their united front gave Margaret no choice but to capitulate. “Oh, fine.” She tapped the envelope against her fingers. “I’ll just give it to the PR department—”

  The package dipped at one end. One edge of the padded envelope thunked softly against the desk.

  “Wait,” Catherine called before Margaret could toss the packet into her Out box. “There’s something in there.” While Bradley watched, his lovely bride-to-be tore open the envelope. Catherine felt around inside and laughed. “It’s from a fan, all right. A fan who’s clearly in love with you. She sent you a diamond ring.” With a teasing grin, she held it up for them all to see.

  When Margaret paired an exasperated sigh with a look that practically accused him of two-timing her client, Bradley took a step back. “I’m sure it’s not real,” he protested. Though there’d been plenty of opportunities, he’d never, ever so much as thought of another girl since the day he and Catherine had first met.

  As if eager to prove him wrong, Catherine studied the ring. “This is a Tiffany-cut one. Half a carat diamond in a white gold setting. And…” She reached into the envelope a second time. “It comes with a love letter.”

  “Of course it does.” Margaret wiggled her fingers in a dismissive gesture.

  That ring must’ve cost the misguided woman a small fortune. Disturbed by Catherine and Margaret’s attitude, Bradley stalked to the window. Behind him, paper rustled when Catherine opened the note.

  “Dear Brad-Bird…”

  What? He spun around on a booted heel.

  “I saw you on TV.” Through pursed lips, Catherine continued reading. “And I couldn’t help but remember all those years ago when we were friends. I’ve thought about you often over the years…”

  “Brad-Bird.” A smile tugged on his lips as long-forgotten memories of his childhood surfaced. “No one’s called me that in ages. Let me see that.” He took the note from Catherine and scanned it quickly.

  Sarah Standor. A rush of emotions rolled over him like a wave at the beach, and his throat tightened.

  “First love?” She arched one perfectly groomed eyebrow.

  Bradley exhaled a breath that came from somewhere deep inside. “We were thirteen.”

  “Aw. She was your girlfriend?” Margaret asked, her voice sweet as saccharine and just as real.

  “No.” Bradley let the paper fall from his fingers onto the table. Hoping she’d understand, he slipped into the chair beside Catherine. “She was my wife.”

  Every trace of laughter melted from Catherine’s face. Her expression both puzzled and demanding, she stared. She wanted an explanation, a good one.

  “It was the day of my parents’ funeral.” Memories of that day swept over him, threatening to drag him back down into those dark times. “I was so sad and lost. I felt alone in the world. Sarah, she, uh—she offered to marry me so I’d have a family.” His heart ached with the sweetness of that moment. It was the best gift anyone had ever given him.

  Wearing a shy smile, Catherine glanced up from the hands she’d folded neatly in her lap. “That’s so nice,” she whispered.

  “She was a great girl. And this ring.” Bradley reached for the diamond his fiancée had discarded on the table like a piece of costume jewelry. “This is my mother’s ring.”

  “I think I’m jealous,” Catherine murmured.

  Bradley coughed a laugh. If there was one thing in the world the elegant, always perfect Catherine Mann didn’t have to worry about, it was another woman. Not where he was concerned. Still, he supposed, even the most beautiful women needed reassurance every once in a while. And that was something he could easily provide. “Nah,” he said, rubbing the ring between his fingers, “the girl I remember, she was real skinny, with freckles, and she preferred horses to people.”

  What had ever happened to Sarah? Or Adam, the friend who’d performed their impromptu—and fortunately for him, illegal—wedding? There’d been a time the three of them had been thick as thieves. Years had passed since he’d last thought of them, or the town where he’d spent the first thirteen years of his life.

  He rubbed a hand over his jaw, thinking. “You know, I—I still own my parents’ house. I haven’t ever been back there since that day.” His aunt and uncle had been good people, but they’d never had any children of their own. They hadn’t had the first clue about handling one who’d just had everything he’d ever known yanked out from under him. At their urging, he’d shoved all the memories of his childhood home and the life he’d left behind into a mental strongbox and sealed it shut. He hadn’t looked inside since. “I should probably deal with that,” he admitted, meaning far more than the simple matter of the house.

  A new idea occurred to him. There might be an upside to announcing their engagement. Now that they were officially a couple, maybe he and Catherine could go on a little getaway together.

  Hoping she’d say yes, he glanced at his bride-to-be. “You know, you should come with me. See where I grew up.”

  Catherine’s features brightened. Leaning forward until her forehead nearly brushed his, she gushed, “I’d love to.”

  “Wait! Wait!” Margaret fluttered her fingers in the air. “It’s impossible! She’s doing a movie.” The agent gave an exasperated huff and stared at Catherine. “You’re under contract.”

  Bradley’s heart sank, and disappointment tugged at Catherine’s lips. From their first date, she’d preached the importance of meeting obligations. Until her movie wrapped up, she had to stay in Hollywood.

  As for him, he had all those songs to write for the new album. He should probably stay right where he was and work on them. The best thing to do might be to contact someone in Mill Town, have them handle the sale for him.

  “Well.” Catherine’s hand on his knee told him she had her own ideas about the matter. “Why don’t you go back, take care of things, sell the house, have some down time. And, after we get married…” She lingered over a breathy, little smile. “I’ll go back with you and see where you grew up.” Her voice dropped to a whisper meant for his ears alone. “I’d love to know that part of you.”

  “I’d like that,” he said, meaning every word. He checked his watch and grimaced. He hated to leave, but it was time for him to head for the recording studio. He leaned forward and brushed a kiss on Catherine’s cheek. “I’ll see you tonight?”

  “Mm-hmm.” She nodded, though both of them understood that their plans for the evening were tentative at best. Catherine was due on the set in another hour. If today’s shoot went well, he’d meet her for a late dinner at one of the trendy hot spots where the importance of being seen by the right people outweighed the qu
ality of the food. And if not, well, there was always tomorrow.

  The noise of his boot heels echoed off the walls of the spacious office as Bradley headed for the elevator. His phone buzzed for what had to be the tenth time this hour and, with a resigned scowl, he thumbed through the dozen or so messages that had accumulated. He lingered over the latest one from his assistant. Apparently, this afternoon’s recording session had been cancelled in favor of a meet-and-greet with executives from the record company.

  Bradley’s frown deepened. They probably wanted an update on the delivery of his next album. Which was a problem, considering he hadn’t written a single song worth sharing with the band, much less taking into the studio, since he’d come to L.A.

  He raked his fingers through his hair. Maybe Catherine’s idea for him to go home had more merit than he’d first thought. Getting out of the limelight, escaping the push/pull of people who wanted pieces of him everywhere he turned—it sounded like just the break he needed.

  The itchy feeling of anticipation coursed through him, and he flexed his fingers. Going back to Mill Town would be good for him. He’d take care of long-neglected business and put his past behind him, once and for all.

  The elevator chimed its arrival. Ignoring it, he took the stairs down to the lobby. The Uber his assistant had arranged to take him to his next appointment waited at the curb behind Catherine’s chauffeur-driven town car. Eager, finally, to get back to the business of songwriting, Bradley headed for his ride.

  Catherine waited until she heard the elevator doors slide open before she swiveled in her chair to face the woman who sat on the opposite side of the desk. Margaret had been her agent ever since she’d stolen the show in what was supposed to be a bit part when she was six. Over the years, the two of them had grown closer than sisters while both their careers had soared. She knew Margaret had been biting her tongue ever since Bradley had insisted on limiting their wedding to a small, private affair. Now that he was safely out of earshot, she had a pretty good idea of what her agent would say next.