A Country Wedding

by Duncan Leigh

  “Bradley. The question really is, do you love her?” Adam stared at him, expecting an answer.

  “Of course! I mean, she’s done so much for me, for my career.” Catherine had introduced him to all the right people, helped him smooth and polish his rough edges, shown him how to dress like a star, how to handle himself in a crowd. He owed her so much for all that.

  “But do you love her?” Insistent, demanding, Adam’s voice cut through all the static.

  Bradley took a second to gather his thoughts. Did he love Catherine? He definitely liked her. He certainly respected her. In most ways, they were compatible. He slapped his hands together. “Yes. I love her.” He had to, didn’t he?

  “You’re sure this is what you want to do?”

  He took a breath. Catherine had assured him that once he left Mill Town behind, once he took his new songs into the studio, once he stepped on stage in Yakima or Orlando or Kalamazoo, he’d realize he’d made the right choice. He had to trust that she knew what she was talking about. Besides, it was too late to call off the wedding, even if he wanted to. Not without embarrassing Catherine, and he wouldn’t do that to her. She deserved better than that. “I am. Yeah.”

  “So, I guess I’ll see you at the wedding rehearsal.”

  Bradley shook out a controlled breath. “Yeah.”

  “Okay.” Carefully ducking the spider webs that clung to the makeshift roof overhead, Adam stood.

  “Thanks.” Bradley tapped his friend on the shoulder. Who would have guessed, all those years ago, that he’d be the one who asked for advice from the young boy who’d presided over his first wedding?

  “You bet.”

  On his way back to the house, Bradley chewed thoughtfully on Adam’s words. In a matter of hours, he’d stand beside his friend and watch as his bride-to-be walked down the aisle to meet him. Warmth spread through his chest. He couldn’t wait to see their love for one another reflected in her eyes when Catherine looked at him.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Sarah tucked the last of the yellow roses into the small aluminum buckets she and Bradley had purchased from the feed store. She’d been so surprised when he’d suggested using them for the wedding. He’d had no idea that she’d picked out the same kind of pail to show him, and they’d laughed about being in sync.

  A stray tear spilled from one of her eyes. She smeared it onto her cheek. She was going to miss being around Bradley. She’d enjoyed their talks. Listening to him work on his music in the evenings had lifted her spirits. But he’d made his choice, and it wasn’t her. Though he and Catherine didn’t share the deep, abiding love Sarah felt was crucial to any lasting relationship, he was going through with the wedding. And though it broke her heart, she had to respect his decision. He hadn’t left her any choice.

  She brushed pollen from her hands while she surveyed her handiwork. Each of the dozen containers on her dining room table held an array of chrysanthemum, baby’s breath, and the yellow roses she’d picked after talking to Catherine this morning. She plucked a dead leaf from one arrangement, added an extra blossom to another, and managed a smile. The flowers were beautiful, perfect for the simple barn wedding Bradley had asked her to plan.

  She almost wished she’d be there to see it, but the opportunity Catherine had sprung on her was simply too good to pass up. Besides, Bradley no longer wanted her at his wedding. If he did, he’d never have let Catherine book that particular flight. Not that she had any interest in watching Bradley marry a woman he didn’t love. Why put herself through that heartbreak? And then there were her horses. How would she ever live with herself if they suffered because she refused Catherine’s offer? She couldn’t. Not when she had the chance to secure their future by skipping the wedding and taking a job in California. No, this was one time she had to agree with Catherine—meeting with the rancher on the West Coast was the right thing, the only thing, to do.

  But first, she’d honor her promise to provide the flowers for Bradley’s wedding. A quick glance at the clock above the stove told her she had just enough time before the rehearsal to place her arrangements in the barn. Drawing in a steady breath, she gathered up an armload of the centerpieces. On the back porch, she stumbled to a halt.

  “What the…” she breathed.

  She took in the two immense delivery trucks parked near the barn’s wide entrance and the army of workers who swarmed the area. From her vantage point, she spotted rows of gilt chairs which young women busily swathed in white fabric. Other helpers carried armloads of material and flowers through the open barn doors. Her stomach did a slow, uncomfortable tuck-and-roll. Had Bradley approved this, or was it all Catherine’s doing?

  The idea that he was in the dark about the change in decor—and possibly other things as well—took root as she carried the first batch of flowers down the steps. On the threshold of the barn, she studied the massive bouquets of yellow roses arrayed in tall, crystal vases on either side of a pulpit that had materialized out of thin air. More roses dripped from garlands that had been hung from the rafters. Ivy obscured the support beams. Swags of white tulle camouflaged the walls and stalls. Bile rose in her throat.

  What had become of the simple, heartfelt, honest ceremony she’d helped plan?

  “Oh, Bradley,” she whispered as disappointment clogged her throat with tears, “is this the life you really want?” Shaking her head, she placed her modest pots of flowers at the end of every row.

  She had to be sure. Had to see his reaction to the fancy white draperies, the crystal chandeliers hanging from the rafters, the bridge someone had built over the goat pens. If he was okay with all the changes, then she’d know she’d lost him forever.

  “Okay, let’s get started.” Adam’s voice echoed from the wooden roof.

  His head still reeling from the transformation that had been worked on the barn, Bradley swallowed. While he’d be the first to acknowledge that all the white fabric and fancy gilt gave the rustic structure a polished look, the effect wasn’t at all what he’d had in mind when he and Sarah had planned his wedding to Catherine.

  He searched for the friend who’d stayed out of sight the last few days. Not for the first time since Catherine’s arrival, he wished he and Sarah could just talk like they had when they’d worked on her fences.

  “Bradley, hop to.” Adam pointed to the vacant spot beside him.

  He squared his shoulders. Whatever questions he had, they’d have to wait until after the rehearsal. Careful not to trip over a long white runner he’d never seen before, he crossed brand-new flooring that covered the straw-covered aisle and mounted the steps onto a dais he’d swear hadn’t existed the last time he’d been in the barn.

  “All right. You’ll stand here next to me. Face this way. And Catherine…” Adam’s focus shifted to the bride who’d rejected his suggestion to follow tradition and have a stand-in take her place during the practice. He gestured toward the back of the building. “When the music starts, cross that bridge, go down that row, and then you’ll walk down the aisle toward Bradley.”

  “Got it.” Catherine stepped out of sight.

  Bradley blinked as his fiancée disappeared behind an acre of gauzy white fabric that spilled from the rafters. How had Catherine pulled all this off? Better yet, why? She’d said she’d ordered a few things to make their wedding more comfortable, but the lengths she’d gone to had the opposite effect on him. He grew more nervous and uncertain by the minute. Was this what people meant when they talked about cold feet?

  “Okay. Let’s try this,” Adam ordered.

  Bradley’s hands fisted when a string quartet played the opening notes of “Spring,” the first movement in Vivaldi’s “Four Seasons.” What had happened to the band he and Sarah had chosen? He ground his back teeth together. He didn’t like the other improvements Catherine had made to his wedding plans, but this one really rankled. Music was his forte, his livelihood. If the b
and he’d chosen wasn’t good enough for his bride, how would he ever live up to her expectations?

  Beside him, Adam cleared his throat. Suddenly aware that Catherine had emerged through the curtain and had started across the bridge, Bradley straightened. This was it. The moment he and Adam had discussed in the old fort. What did it matter whether his fiancée had decorated the old barn to suit her fancy or not? Or that she’d overruled his selection of the music? None of that counted nearly as much as seeing the love Adam had spoken of reflected in Catherine’s eyes. In a matter of seconds, she’d step into the aisle and walk toward him. All his doubts and concerns were sure to fade away the moment their eyes met. Then, he’d know for sure he’d made the right choice.

  The music swelled. Her steps sure and certain despite the three-inch heels she wore, Catherine made the turn onto the aisle. Bradley’s heart rose to his throat. He gazed intently at his bride, determined not to miss the instant when he’d stare deeply into her brown eyes, and he’d know—they’d both know—their love would withstand every test life threw at it.

  Two steps down the aisle, Catherine’s footsteps slowed.

  Bradley’s stomach tightened. His pulse, which had been galloping like one of Sarah’s thoroughbreds, stilled. His eyes glued to Catherine, he watched her pull a small mirror from the center of her bouquet, strike a pose, and check her image in the mirror. She nodded her approval. Once more burying the glass in the flowers, she adjusted her veil and, without a single glance his way, flounced down the aisle. Like any good actress, she hit her mark precisely.

  Bradley expelled a long, unsteady breath. What had he been thinking? He’d known from the very start that love—romantic love—didn’t factor into his feelings for Catherine. Theirs was a relationship based on mutual admiration and respect, common goals and similar drives. For a split second there, he’d hoped for something more, something deeper. But what they had was enough.

  Or was it?

  A slight movement off to one side caught his attention. He peered beyond the swags of white fabric into the shadows. His breath caught when he glimpsed Sarah standing there, watching him. Love and heartbreak swirled across her face, and he felt the answering pull of emotion in his chest. In that moment, he wanted to rush to her side, brush away her tears, and spend the rest of his life with her. Only…

  He was about to marry Catherine. It was too late for him and Sarah. If he’d never left Mill Town, if he’d returned sooner, if he’d met Sarah some other time, some other place, then, maybe, the make-believe wedding they’d held as kids might have turned into something real, something that would last a lifetime. But now, it was too late. Their chance—if they’d ever had one—had passed.

  The sense of loss that swept through him was so powerful it nearly knocked him off his feet. Righting himself, he sought understanding in Sarah’s gaze. When their eyes met again, she smiled at him despite the tears that trailed down her cheeks. In that instant, he knew that, like him, she accepted their fate. The forgiveness he read in her expression dissolved the hard knot that had filled the center of his chest ever since their last argument.

  Beside him, Adam thumbed the pages of a well-worn Bible. Aware that everyone waited expectantly for him, Bradley straightened. Turning, he faced his bride and carried out his part in their wedding rehearsal. The next time he risked a glance toward the place where he’d spotted Sarah, she had disappeared.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Shortly after sunrise, Sarah toted her overnight bag down the wide front steps of the house she’d lived in practically her entire life. Pausing on the bottom stair, she gave the flower garden where she’d spent countless hours a final glance.

  No, not final. She wasn’t leaving for good. Not yet. Though her ownership of the house and the ranch would end the moment she handed the deed over to James Fargo, she’d return in a few days to get the rest of her clothes and personal items.

  But things would never be the same. After today, someone else would pick the flowers she’d so carefully tended. Someone new would cook breakfast in the roomy kitchen where her family had prepared countless meals. People she didn’t know would ride on horseback through the fields and woods. They’d be the ones who put their horses in the stalls at night, not her.

  For the briefest of moments, she’d hoped things might turn out differently after all. There’d been a minute during the wedding rehearsal yesterday when she’d sworn Bradley realized he was making a huge mistake by marrying Catherine. She’d held her breath, certain he was about to call the whole thing off. But he hadn’t. As much as it hurt, she’d had no choice but to accept that she and Bradley weren’t meant to be together. That he’d chosen Catherine. That the sooner she accepted it, the sooner she could get on with her life.

  Gathering up her courage, she took one long last look at the ranch while it was still hers to enjoy. When she was finally certain the memories of her childhood home would sustain her for the next few days, she toted her overnight bag to the waiting taxi and the driver who lingered by the picket fence.

  “I need to make a quick stop at the bank on our way to the airport.” She thumbed through her purse, double-checking that she had her wallet and ID.

  “Going to be away long?” Sammy stashed her bag in the trunk.

  “I’ll be back on Friday.” She took her place in the back seat. “Do you mind picking me up?”

  “Sure thing.” Sliding behind the wheel, Sammy grabbed a clipboard from under the visor and jotted down her flight information.

  Slumped in her seat, she stared out the window as Sammy followed the road that led through the ranch she loved to a future far different from the one she’d hoped to live. At the bank, she asked the driver to keep the motor running. “I won’t be long,” she assured him.

  As he’d promised, James Fargo greeted her the moment she stepped into the lobby.

  “Hi, James.” Her shoulders back, her head held high, she refused to give into her tears. She wouldn’t plead for another extension. She wouldn’t beg or make a scene. She’d promised James she’d hand the deed over to him, and she’d keep her word.

  “Hi, Sarah.” His manner solemn, the banker accepted the paperwork that relinquished her ownership of the ranch. “I’m real sorry about this.”

  “Yeah. Me, too.” Her requests for help had been rejected at every turn. Banks didn’t lend money to ranchers who were already behind in their payments. Mortgage companies didn’t give extensions when there was no chance of a looming windfall. Not even the Equine Rehabilitation Fund had been willing to lend a hand. She’d exhausted every option, explored every avenue in the hopes that things wouldn’t come to this. She had that much to be proud of. Sticking to her word, she clasped James’s outstretched hand and gave it a firm shake.

  “Thank you.”

  Not certain how much longer she could hold her tears at bay, she simply nodded and headed for the waiting taxi and the long ride to the airport.

  Was her future in California? Only time would tell, but she didn’t think it mattered. She wouldn’t exactly call living with a broken heart much of a life. How would she survive the next year, much less the next decade, with this empty hole where her heart should be? She leaned her head back on the seat and closed her eyes. Tears seeped between her lids. They dampened her cheeks. She’d had her one shot at true love. She’d never get a second chance.

  Bradley rapped on Sarah’s front door. The restlessness that had kept him tossing and turning all night flooded back. He rocked back and forth on his heels. What was taking Sarah so long? Unable to wait for her to come to the door, he knocked again. “Hello?”

  Still no answer.

  “Sarah?” He raised his voice. Moving to the front window, he cupped his hand over the glass and peered inside. “I need to talk to you.” He couldn’t spend another minute, much less the rest of his life, wondering about the burst of emotion that had passed between them during t
he rehearsal yesterday. The time had come for them to have a serious discussion, and he wanted—no, he demanded—that they have it now. He rapped loudly on the glass.

  “Hello, there!”

  Spinning away from the window, Bradley homed in on the owner of a voice that didn’t belong to the woman he needed to see. Though she carried a briefcase, Sally’s black braids had been stylishly arranged. Her gray dress looked a little too fine for everyday wear. A teasing grin spread across her face. She leaned toward him. “Aren’t you supposed to be getting ready for your wedding?”

  The wedding could wait. He had far more important matters to attend. “Where’s Sarah?”

  “Why, she’s gone.” Sally’s thick brows knitted as though this was information he should already possess.

  Bradley held out one hand like a stop sign. “Gone? I don’t understand.” He marched down the steps, his boots striking a ringing thud on each riser. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, she no longer owns this ranch.” Sally’s voice turned as somber as a funeral director’s.

  “What?” Bradley flew down the last few steps. He hurried across the yard to stand face-to-face with the realty agent. “She would never sell her ranch.” Not the land that had been handed down to her by her parents. Not the home that was tied to all her most important memories, her roots. Not after all the work she’d put into fixing up the place. And especially not after she’d sacrificed so much for the horses in her care.

  “She didn’t have a choice. She simply didn’t have enough money to make the mortgage.” Sally’s voice hitched. “The bank had to sell it. They didn’t have a choice, either.”

  His arms akimbo, Bradley stared at the agent. Sarah, gone? Her ranch, sold? Why hadn’t she come to him for help? He’d have given her whatever she needed.