by Susan Crosby
“I figured I’d walk down the aisle with you.”
She breathed a sigh of relief. “I was afraid I would trip,” she admitted.
He presented his arm to her. She took hold, grateful for his thoughtfulness, especially after she’d been cool to him all week. She wasn’t even sure why, except that she’d been trying to come to terms with all the changes in her life. Her dreams of just a couple of months ago had gone up in smoke. She would never have the freedom to start her own farm now, even if she could come up with money.
“Jenny,” he said, his voice tender. “Don’t be scared. Everything will work out. I promise.”
He was such a good man, she thought, and she’d turned his life upside down—and was responsible for turning her own upside down, too. Yet here he was, appeasing her parents and suffering through the unspoken sympathy of every guest in attendance today that his father hadn’t bothered to show up, although Rose had.
“Thank you for doing this,” she said.
He kissed her forehead, then they walked together out the back door into Dori’s beautiful garden and the gathering of family standing there. Everyone smiled at them. After the initial shock, they’d accepted Jenny and Win’s news as if it was an everyday occurrence.
Vaughn had scoured the internet and his own fertile mind for appropriate things to say under such unusual circumstances. Jenny and Win had bought matching wedding bands, nothing fancy, and without gemstones, but with some swirls and etching. After they exchanged rings, Vaughn ended the ceremony with, “I pronounce you still husband and wife. You may kiss your bride.”
Everyone cheered. Win smiled and whispered, “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
She smiled back, then he kissed her in a publicly appropriate way before they were surrounded and hugged and kissed and congratulated. A feast awaited them after that. Jenny filled a plate then went to sit across from her new sister-in-law, Rose. Adam and Brody had been charged with keeping her company, but they’d been helping to grill rib-eye steaks.
“May I join you?” Jenny asked.
“Of course. Your mom was just here, entertaining me, and Haley before that. I haven’t been abandoned.” Rose touched Jenny’s hand. “I’m sorry about my dad.”
“Me, too. Maybe he’ll mellow after the baby comes.”
Win sat on the bench next to Jenny, setting his loaded plate on the table. “Enjoying yourself?” he asked his sister, who nodded. Then he said to Jenny, “Rose throws a pretty good party herself for our hands and their families.”
“You don’t eat beef?” Rose said to Jenny.
“I was in the habit of naming every calf when it was born. By the time I was thirteen, I couldn’t...I just couldn’t.”
Because only family was invited, it wasn’t a huge crowd, only fourteen. Music played from outdoor speakers and people danced, but it was all casual, with Vaughn and Karyn’s seven-year-old daughter, Cassidy, dancing with almost everyone, wearing sparkly shoes she was so proud of. Vaughn led a toast, the newlyweds cut their cake then opened their gifts. There was no time for a honeymoon, but her parents had gotten them a room in Medford for the night.
Jenny was more than a little anxious to get there. She’d been anticipating their wedding night in a big way, had bought a pink lace nightgown for the occasion. They’d have a real bed....
She wanted it to be special, especially since Win had been forced into marriage because she’d been reckless, because divorced or not, they would’ve married again because of this baby. He was that kind of man. She wouldn’t stop feeling guilty about that for a long time. She loved him. She wanted it to work. But she was afraid he was there and would continue to be there because it was the right thing to do, not because he loved her.
He’d never said so, anyway, even though she’d told him every time she’d seen him that long-ago summer.
So she was counting on the night in the hotel to reconnect with him, to start their marriage the right way. Making love would be the first hopeful step for them.
When the bride and groom went inside to change clothes, their guests gathered in front of the house. They formed two lines, locked hands and created a tunnel from the front door to the truck. Jenny and Win ducked and ran. When they reached the truck, they turned to wave goodbye.
“Oh, no!” Annie called out. “My water just broke.”
After being peppered with questions, she admitted to having been in labor since the wedding started, and the contractions were regular and close enough to head to the hospital, especially since it was her second child.
Everyone went, including the newlyweds. As a family they took up the entire waiting room, the joy of the earlier event continuing with excited anticipation. Dori was invited to be in the labor and delivery room, and she came out a couple of times with updates, but the last update came from the new addition as a baby’s cries could be heard.
They all jumped up and hugged. More time passed, then Mitch emerged.
“It’s a boy. Seven pounds, ten ounces. Twenty inches long. We’ve named him James Mitchell, and we’ll call him Jamie. Everyone is...perfect.” He hugged his father hard, then everyone else.
“You can be first to see him,” Mitch said to Jenny and Win. “Then you need to get going on your honeymoon right after.”
They followed him down the hall. Annie held a blanketed bundle, his tiny face peeking out.
Jenny felt a rush of emotion—for the baby she lost, for her fears about the one she carried, for happiness for Mitch and Annie. She couldn’t articulate anything, couldn’t even manage a “Congratulations” or “He’s beautiful.” Tears welled and a kind of desperation settled in her.
After a moment, Win wrapped an arm around her and moved her into the hall after saying a quick goodbye to Annie and his mother-in-law.
He found an empty room a couple of doors down. “What’s going on?”
She sniffled. “It’s just been a long day. A lot to absorb.”
“Would you just like to go home? Skip spending the night in Medford?”
“But—it’s our wedding night.”
“We wouldn’t get there before midnight.”
“You don’t want to go, Win?”
No, he didn’t want to go, but he couldn’t tell her that. He didn’t want a romantic, sexy night with her....
That wasn’t true. He wanted that more than anything, but she’d had the miscarriage right after they’d had sex the last time. The guilt he’d lived with ever since then had been overwhelming. It’d been a particularly passionate session of lovemaking, only a week after they’d married. He couldn’t risk that again.
“I just think it’s late and we’re both tired,” he said.
“By home, do you mean the farmhouse?”
“Yeah.”
She stared at him until he was ready to squirm. “If that’s what you want,” she said finally.
“I do. I want to be someplace familiar, not a fancy hotel room.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do,” she said, sliding her arms around him. “I don’t really care, as long as we’re together.”
He started to lead her out of the room when Dori appeared. They exchanged glances.
“Overtired,” Jenny said. “We’re going back to the farm, Mom. I’m sorry about not being able to use your gift of the hotel room, but we’re beat.”
“You can go another time.” She rubbed her daughter’s back. “Call me tomorrow.”
“I will,” Jenny said, her mood lightening.
“She’s safe in my hands,” Win said to Dori.
“I have no doubt of that.” She kissed Win’s cheek and left.
The drive to the farm took about forty-five minutes. Jenny fell asleep right away. Against her protests, he carried her and her bag into the house, not stopping until they reached the bedro
om. He sat her on the bed, then returned to the truck to get his bag, but didn’t go into the room right away, giving her time to change. When he did finally join her, he brought her a mug of tea.
It was a stall, the first of probably a few. She wasn’t going to react well to his plans, he thought. Not when she was dressed to thrill in a pretty pink gown.
“Thank you.” She accepted the mug but set it on the nightstand, not drinking it. Instead she reached for him, sliding his bolo down.
He grabbed her hand. “I want to sleep alone,” he said.
“What? Why?”
“You should get a good night’s sleep. I don’t want to disturb you.”
“Making love is disturbing me?”
“You know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t. I really don’t. I’m your wife. I want to sleep in the same bed with you.”
Like he didn’t? He’d been waiting four years for that privilege. But what if she miscarried because of it? How could he live with that a second time?
As Win remained silent, Jenny tried to figure him out. She thought he’d be as anxious as she to share a bed finally. Even though he was doing the right thing, she thought he wanted her still. Had he only gotten carried away and now he was stuck with her?
She didn’t think she could live with that. She laid a hand on his chest. “Just for tonight, Win?”
“We’re both tired, Jenny.”
He couldn’t even answer her. Fear wrapped around her. She’d completely misread him. He obviously felt forced. He’d been kind because...well, he was a kind man, and a dutiful one.
“All right, Win. I can accept not making love tonight, but not you sleeping in another bed. We’re married. We sleep together. What if I need you during the night?” She felt a tiny bit guilty for playing that card, but she had a feeling if she let him go one night, it would continue, and they would never find accord as husband and wife.
He didn’t answer but turned out the lights, stripped down to his briefs and got into bed. They stretched out on their backs, side by side. He stared at the ceiling. She was going to have to woo her own husband.
After a minute Jenny smiled, deciding that kind of role reversal might be kind of fun.
“Night,” he said, then rolled onto his side.
She snuggled up behind him, wrapping an arm around his waist. His body went rigid. “Relax,” she said. “Nothing’s going to happen until you want it to. Go to sleep.”
He did. Jenny allowed herself the contentment of being in a real bed with him and holding him before she gave in to slumber, as well. She woke up a few times during the night. They never lost contact with each other. If she rolled to her other side, he spooned behind her, his arm over her stomach. Once, they’d been facing each other, their legs entwined. But they were always touching.
For now she would have to be satisfied with that and let the future take care of itself.
Chapter Nine
Win wasn’t in bed when Jenny woke up, but he came through the door a minute later carrying a tray. He’d made breakfast—scrambled eggs and toast.
“I’ve never cooked much,” he said, looking adorable. He hadn’t combed his hair or shaved, had pulled on his jeans and a T-shirt that looked like it’d been wadded up in a drawer for a year.
“I need to go to the bathroom first.”
“Sure.”
He set down the tray. She stopped on her way out of the room to kiss him. “Thank you.”
She looked in the bathroom mirror. It was not a pretty sight, even after she brushed her hair and teeth. She hadn’t washed her face last night, and mascara still darkened the skin under her eyes, but she didn’t want the eggs to get cold, even though she wasn’t sure she could keep food down.
“How’d you sleep?” he asked. He’d brought two forks. They ate off the same plate.
“Good.” Better than that, actually. She’d been restless and aware of him, but in a good way. “I liked sleeping with you. Very much.”
She was about to move closer to him when her stomach rebelled against the eggs. She jumped out of bed and raced for the bathroom, throwing up everything she’d just eaten. She was aware that Win had followed and was quietly standing nearby, which both comforted and embarrassed her. After she seemed to be done, he wet a washcloth and handed it to her.
“Sorry,” she said. “I should’ve told you the morning sickness hasn’t ended yet. Usually I just drink a glass of water and throw up and get it over with. Then I eat.”
“I’ll keep that in mind from now on.”
“From now on, you’ll be leaving at five a.m. for work. I doubt I’ll be up until after you go.” Although a good wife would get up and fix her husband a hearty breakfast before he went off to do the hard, physical work Win did. “I need a shower,” she said.
“Me, too,” he said, starting the water.
Together? she wondered. But no such luck. By the time she was done and dressed, he’d finished showering and had also gotten dressed. She decided not to let him get away with ignoring her.
“Last night you said you were tired, Win. What about this morning?”
“You were just sick.”
“I’m fine now. In fact, I’m starved. But this time I’ll fix breakfast for you.”
“In a minute. First, I have something for you.”
They went into the living room. On the coffee table sat a box wrapped in Christmas paper with a big red bow.
He remembered. Jenny’s throat burned. For their wedding four years ago, when she’d given him the bolo tie he’d worn yesterday, she’d proclaimed it an early Christmas gift, turning an ordinary summer day into something special. He’d told her his family had ignored the holiday and probably would forever. How did you forget that your mother died on Christmas day?
He hadn’t given her anything, hadn’t even known it was traditional, but she hadn’t cared at all. She’d just wanted him to have something from her and was pleased when he’d been so touched by it.
“I didn’t get anything for you this time,” she said, sitting on the sofa.
He sat next to her and laid a hand on her abdomen. “Yes, you did. But this is your early Christmas gift this time. It couldn’t wait.”
He set the box in her lap. She opened it carefully, intending to save the wrappings, then lifted the lid. Inside was a legal-looking document. She skimmed it then raised her eyes slowly to his.
“You got a loan for the lavender farm?”
“I have a job, a credit rating and savings.”
She didn’t know what to say, so she said nothing. He looked so proud and happy—
“The bank would only give us a loan on the property,” he said, starting to look worried at her lack of reaction. “It wouldn’t be enough to build any structures. I guess that’s so they could recoup their losses, if necessary.”
“Us?” she repeated, shaking her head. “This is yours.”
“It’s in both our names. We just have to make an offer on the property, get it accepted then sign the loan papers.” He was waiting for her reaction.
“I appreciate what you did,” she said.
He stiffened. “I hear a but in there.”
She moved to the front window and looked out. “This is my dream, Win.”
“Why can’t your dreams be mine, too?”
“You’ll want to provide input.”
“What’s wrong with that? Two heads are better than one, you know.” He joined her at the window. “Your father and Vaughn have said they would give us a second loan to get the initial structures up and running.”
“What? You went to my father? My brother? And asked for money?”
“According to your business plan, it’s going to take six months or more just to get the ground prepared and the plants i
n place in time for next year’s growing season. We wouldn’t borrow any money from your family until that’s done. It’ll be a long process, Jen. We’ll do it in stages.”
“We?”
“It’s going to take both of us to get it off the ground. Trust me, it’ll still be your project.” He cupped her shoulder, but she jerked out of reach. “Why are you angry? You told me you couldn’t qualify for a loan on your own. I could. You’re my wife. What’s mine is yours. What’s wrong with that?”
Indeed. What was wrong with that? Because her pride had taken a beating? Did it matter? He was giving her the chance to fulfill her dream.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “It just came as a shock.”
“A happy shock, I hope.”
He’d just wanted to please her. He’d done nothing but be supportive and caring and understanding. A lot of men wouldn’t have reacted well to the situation that he seemed to take in stride.
She put her arms around him. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He pressed his face into her shoulder and drew a deep breath. “I guess there’ll be adjustments for both of us.”
She didn’t want to talk about it anymore, although they would need to at some point. Getting the loan for the land was one thing—that didn’t change her plans. Borrowing from her father and brother was quite another.
“Time to eat,” she said more brightly than she felt.
Just when they’d finished their pancakes and eggs, several trucks came up their driveway—her family, all except the new parents.
“What’s going on?” Jenny asked her mother.
“We’ve come to gather the flowers and make bouquets for the farmers’ market tomorrow,” she said, setting her hand on Austin’s shoulder. “We figure we’ll be done in an hour or so, with this many people helping. At least, that’s what Austin says. And since he and Annie have been doing this for two years, he’s the expert. Okay, young man, lead the way.”
Everyone listened to eleven-year-old Austin’s instructions then got to work. Flowers were snipped, leaves stripped and bundles made—mixed bouquets and ones comprised of only one type of bloom, appealing to what Annie called a more sophisticated buyer. Pink and white asters, bright Shasta daisies, fragrant carnations and enormous red and yellow zinnias were plunked into the huge buckets of water and put in the barn until the next day. Tomorrow Jenny would pick the produce she planned to sell.
