Micah's Mock Matrimony

by Liz Isaacson

Of course, he wouldn’t have it built for a few months anyway.

  He locked the truck and headed back into the swap meet, stopping to buy a huge Texas boot of sweet tea before he started toward the fruit stall they’d seen earlier. One thing he’d learned about Simone on this trip was how much she liked a farmer’s market. Not only that, but she had excellent people skills and could literally talk to anyone, about anything.

  At least strangers. Micah had noticed that she struggled to talk with him about things near and dear to her heart, though she’d been getting better. She wasn’t afraid to tell him what her schedule was for the day, or what she wanted for dinner. They got along great. It was the deeper stuff, the things that revealed what she thought and felt, that she had a hard time articulating.

  After their daytime activities, he’d found her sitting on the bed in the hotel, a notebook in front of her. When he’d asked her what she was doing, she’d looked up and said, “Planning the wedding.”

  A twinge of regret accompanied Micah every time he thought about her planning their wedding. At the same time, it wasn’t like he’d planned to get married during an audition, and all he could do was praise the Lord that she hadn’t auditioned with someone else and had that paperwork sent in.

  Simone wasn’t in the fruit booth, but Micah went in anyway. A woman wearing a microphone stood at the back of the booth, behind a table, and she held up an apple. “This is a Pink Lady from our orchards in Medina. It’s tart and sweet at the same time, and it’s got a crisp bite that makes it great for snacking. At Loveland’s Orchards, about a quarter of our crop each year come from our Pink Lady trees.”

  She put the apple down and demonstrated how to cut out the core, and then she chunked it up and started passing it around the crowd that had gathered. “This is a Gala,” she said, naming one of Micah’s favorite apples. “Half of our crop is Galas, and they’re mild, sweet apples with a thin skin. They’re great for kids, applesauce, and you don’t need to worry about the yellow on the skin. Their skin is sometimes marbled, unlike some other varieties of apples where you see a solid-colored skin.”

  Micah wasn’t sure why he was so enthralled with the apple talk. There was an apple orchard and nursery in Three Rivers that he’d visited with Ophelia. They did cider tastings and demonstrations, and they had “the cutest red barn” Ophelia had ever seen. In fact, Micah had a picture of him and Ophelia in front of the red barn. Somewhere.

  Probably not anymore, he told himself. When she’d broken up with him, Micah had tried to purge everything about her from his life. It had taken longer than he’d thought it would, because they’d been dating for almost nine months, and that was a lot of intertwining that had to be unraveled.

  He swiped open his phone and started looking through the pictures in his gallery. A smile touched his mouth as he saw the selfie he and Simone had taken yesterday as they’d visited the Lyndon Johnson Farm. The plane he’d fly on when he came to his Texas White House was on display, and they’d snapped a picture of themselves.

  Micah loved how happy he looked as he grinned at the camera. Simone wore sunglasses, but her joy seemed to melt right into the camera’s lens. Surely she was happy with him now. They weren’t hiding from anyone—or each other.

  And to think, Micah had thought they were going to break up only a couple of weeks ago. He’d been ready to walk out. He hadn’t known what the next day would bring once he did, but he’d been willing to do it.

  All he could do now was hope and pray he’d never have to make that decision again.

  “Okay,” Micah said a couple of days later. The delivery truck drove differently now that it was full, and he eased up on the gas pedal and moved his foot to the brake. “This is it.”

  Simone peered through the windshield as he turned off the winding Hill Country road and onto a dirt lane. As did most ranches here, his grandparents’ place had a gate. Brown and red bricks flanked both sides of the lane, with a black iron gate in between that, though it was open. A white W sat on the left side, and Micah freely remembered the last time he’d been here.

  “I haven’t been here in ages,” he told Simone as they passed through the gate. “Grandma Lucy threw a big party when I graduated from high school, mostly for Momma.” He chuckled as the memories ran through his mind. “I didn’t want to come, because it was a long drive, and I had friends I wanted to spend time with.”

  “How far is it from Austin?” she asked.

  “Oh, only like forty minutes,” he said, laughing again. “Not long at all. But you know how everything is a lifetime when you’re eighteen? It was like that. My grandmother is an excellent cook—she taught Jeremiah everything he knows—and she’d called me and asked what I wanted.”

  “And what was that?” Simone asked. She loved his childhood stories, and Micah had plenty, that was for sure. Growing up with six brothers gave him plenty of fodder when it came to stupid things the boys had gotten into.

  “She makes this sausage and pepperoni Stromboli.” Micah’s mouth watered just thinking about it. “And a brownie ice cream cake.” He smacked his lips. “I had a great time. Momma and Daddy were there, and Skyler. The other brothers were older, and off at college. Wyatt was already riding the rodeo circuit. So it was just the four of us. But Grandpa has about a hundred dogs, so there was plenty of voices for the singing.”

  “What did you sing?”

  “Grandma Lucy makes up words to whatever song she wants,” Micah said as the road turned. “And the house is coming up right here.” Sure enough, the ranch house came into view, and Micah’s nostalgia peaked. “She really threw the party for Momma, who’d managed to get all seven sons graduated from high school, and Grandma Lucy said that took some superpowers.”

  “I know all of you Walkers,” Simone said. “And I agree with your grandmother.” She smiled at Micah, and he reached over and took her hand, lifting it to his lips to kiss her wrist.

  “You’re okay to visit for a bit?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “Our hotel is only an hour away.”

  Micah nodded, thinking maybe Grandma Lucy would trigger some memories for Simone of her own grandmother, but he didn’t say anything. “Oh, wow, look at that.” He pulled up to the house, looking at the huge Dumpster that had been parked on the front lawn. He got out and looked inside, but the huge container was mostly empty.

  Momma and Daddy wouldn’t be happy about that.

  “Hey-o!” someone called, and Micah turned toward the house to see his uncle coming down the steps. He raised his hand with a huge smile on his face. Simone met him at the front of the truck, and he cemented his hand in hers. “Uncle Jonas,” he said, stepping into the bear of a man. He looked a lot like Daddy, though he was about five years older than Micah’s father. He laughed and clapped the older man on the back.

  “It’s been so long,” Uncle Jonas said. “But you look just like yer daddy, so I knew it was yous.”

  Micah smiled at the plural of you he always used. “Simone,” he said. “This is my daddy’s brother. Jonas Walker.”

  “Nice to meet you, sir.” Simone gave him her most charming smile, and Micah basked in the light it called down from heaven.

  “My wife,” Micah said. “Simone.”

  “Your mother mentioned you’d gotten married,” Uncle Jonas said, leaning toward Simone and kissing both cheeks. “Nice to meet you. She sure is pretty, ain’t she?”

  “She sure is,” Micah said, beaming at Simone. Her smile hitched, but it didn’t slip off her face. He’d give her credit for that.

  “Y’all come in,” he said. “Momma has everything bubblin’ away on the stove, and Daddy’s got the dogs all lined up.”

  “How many dogs?” Simone asked, glancing at Micah.

  “Six in the house,” Uncle Jonas said. “It’s pretty ridiculous, but when Momma told him he had to put them outside or train them, he started training them.”

  Simone and Micah followed his uncle up the steps and into the house. Micah expected to get
a nose full of the same smell he’d always experienced when he came to visit his grandparents. It was somewhere between moth balls and old ice, and he could never figure out where it came from.

  Today, though, roasted meat scented the air, and Micah took a deep breath of it, his stomach grumbling for food.

  “They’re here,” Uncle Jonas called, and only a single dog barked.

  He took them past the foyer and the stairs that led up to the back of the house, where the space opened up to a living room, dining room, and kitchen.

  “Oh, my,” Grandma Lucy said, already crying when Micah came around the corner. She seized onto him, and he had to bend down to hug her properly.

  “Hey, Grandma,” he said, smiling at how strong she was for how small.

  “I’ve missed all my boys,” she said. She released Micah and looked at Simone. “All those boys lived with us for a year, you know.”

  “I’ve heard,” Simone said, smiling at her. “I’m Simone Fos—Walker.” She glanced at Micah. “Micah’s wife.”

  He sure did like hearing her say that, despite the stumble over her last name.

  “I know just who you are,” Grandma Lucy said. “Penny showed me a picture when she came a few weeks ago.”

  Micah looked around the house, but it sure didn’t look like it had been cleaned out none. “How’s the purge going?” he asked.

  “Purge?”

  Micah turned at the sound of his grandfather’s voice, a smile lighting his whole soul.

  “Grandpa.” He laughed as he embraced the man, feeling the love and strength in his grandfather’s grip. Grandpa Jerry laughed too, his voice old and throaty. A dog barked again, and Micah stepped back when Grandpa did.

  “Stay,” he commanded, and Micah looked behind him to see a half-dozen dogs doing exactly what he said. “Look at ‘em, sugar. They’re doin’ so good.”

  “Yes,” Grandma said without looking. She went back into the kitchen and put some bowls on the counter. Micah exchanged a glance with Simone, wondering if they could grow old together the way his grandparents had.

  They reached for each other at the same time, and Micah sure hoped so.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Whitney parked in front of her mother’s house and said, “All right, JJ. Get your belt off.” The little boy had to be buckled several times every time they got in the car, so he could definitely get out of his own car seat. In fact, he was like a Houdini when it came to breaking restraints.

  Whitney liked to tell Jeremiah that their son was free-spirited and stubborn, just like him, but he usually tossed those characteristics back to her. She could admit she was a free-spirit and stubborn, and those qualities had served her well throughout her life. She didn’t appreciate them as much in her own son, especially when he threw a temper tantrum in the middle of the grocery store that her family owned.

  That wasn’t cute, and Whitney hadn’t been able to cure the almost-two-year-old of the habit. JJ was loud and opinionated, and he hadn’t even turned two yet. She got out and opened the back door, letting the boy get down by himself before she leaned into the car and unstrapped Clara Jean.

  She heard her mother talking to JJ as she straightened, and her heart warmed as she watched her mother crouch down right in front of the boy and look at something he wanted to show her. Pure joy lived on her mother’s face, and a shock of guilt hit Whitney in the face like icy water.

  Sometimes, she was just so tired. She couldn’t deal with JJ’s tantrums, and Jeremiah worked long hours on the ranch, no matter the season. “Hey, Mom,” she said as she approached. Fondness filled her for her son, and she ran her fingertips along the top of his head.

  She passed Clara to her mother, who cooed at the baby. The front door opened behind them, and Dalton came out of the house. “Babysitting Dalton too?” she asked.

  “Funny, Aunt Whitney,” Dalton said, rolling his eyes.

  She grabbed onto him and laughed as she hugged him. “Ready for graduation next week?”

  “He’s been ready for months,” Whitney’s mother said, watching them.

  “I’m sure he has,” Whitney said. “Senior year is the worst.”

  “He only goes part-time.”

  And Whitney wasn’t sure why her mom cared. “But he’s graduating, and with a good GPA too.” She’d always felt like Dalton’s protector. “You still like it out at Three Rivers Ranch?” she asked, turning her full attention to her nephew.

  “Yeah,” he said with a smile. “I’m working there full-time as soon as I get back from my senior trip.”

  “Good for you, Dalt,” Whitney said. “You know, you can come work at Seven Sons too. Jeremiah is always looking for good guys.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Dalton said. “But I’ve been at Three Rivers for a couple of years now, and I like it there.”

  “Whitney’s place is closer,” her mom said.

  “I get to work with the horses at Three Rivers,” Dalton said. “I moved from Bowman’s over to the therapy unit. Pete’s been teaching me how to train the therapy horses.”

  Whitney’s heart warmed again, and she slung her arm around Dalton’s shoulders. “I’m so glad you like it.”

  Dalton smiled at her. “Me too.”

  “So are you staying here for a bit?” Whitney asked, glancing at her mom. “Maybe you can take JJ for a bike ride.”

  “Yeah,” Dalton said. “I’m gonna be here for a couple of hours. Grandma hired me to do her yard.”

  “Oh, that’s great,” Whitney said, smiling from her mom to her nephew. Neither of them seemed to be too happy about it though. “Well.” She took a deep breath. “I’m going to be late. Thanks, Mom.” She kissed her mom’s cheek, as well as Clara Jean’s, and she got behind the wheel again.

  Thankfully, her children were used to people coming and going, different people holding them at church, at home, everywhere, and they didn’t cry when she left.

  Penny had instituted a monthly Wives Luncheon, and Whitney needed the break. She needed the female connection with her sisters-in-law, and she craved the adult conversation that wasn’t about crops, the timing of studding season, and pests in the corn. She loved her husband deeply, and Jeremiah was definitely everything she wanted in a man.

  Tall, tough, rugged, but sweet, helpful, and vulnerable too. He loved her shamelessly, and Whitney loved how much he adored her. He helped with the children when he was home, and she hadn’t made a meal—or a pot of coffee—for herself in years.

  Sure, she missed pieces of herself, but the tradeoff was more than worth it.

  She arrived at the restaurant several minutes later, seeing Penny going inside with Marcy as she searched for a parking spot. Whitney tried not to let the jealousy flood her, but it rose anyway. In a family as large as the Walkers, it was hard to stand out. Whitney didn’t want to stand out. But she didn’t want to be isolated either, which was very easy to do when everyone around her had such a busy life and all she did was stay home with her kids.

  She hated the feelings of inadequacy. All she’d ever wanted to do was be a mother, and now that she was one, it wasn’t good enough? She and Jeremiah were already trying for their third child, and Clara Jean was only nine months old. He wanted a lot of kids, and so did she. She loved taking the kids in the wagon out to the ranch to see their daddy for a quick lunch, and she loved taking care of them.

  “You’re just tired,” she muttered to herself as she found a spot in the back of the parking lot. She didn’t worry about getting a table here, as Mal worked at the bakery in town and had gotten them a table an hour ago after her shift ended.

  Whitney took a moment in the car to say a prayer. “Help me to have fun,” she said. “Help me to appreciate these women for who they already are, and bless them that they can accept me how I am too.” She closed her eyes and pictured her beautiful children. “Thank you for Jeremiah, JJ, and Clara Jean. I don’t mean to act like I don’t love them or don’t want them.”

  Like someone putting a warm bl
anket around her shoulders, Whitney felt wrapped in a hug from On High. Satisfied that she wasn’t being ungrateful, she grabbed her phone and got out of the car. She never carried a purse anymore, because it was one more thing to keep track of when she was constantly monitoring sippy cups, diapers, shoes, and a myriad of other things.

  Jeremiah had bought her a phone case that held a couple of cards and a few bills, and that was all Whitney needed when she left the house.

  She entered the restaurant where the women had met twice now alone, glancing around. Her heart flipped and flopped, and she hated that she was nervous for the lunch. She wasn’t nervous when Jeremiah’s family came to the ranch, and she wanted to be there.

  “Oh, good, I’m not the only one not at the table.”

  Whitney turned at the sound of Ivory’s voice as she came in behind Whitney. “Hey, Ivory.” She hugged the woman. “How’s the packing going?”

  “I had no idea we’d amassed so much stuff,” she said. “I mean, honestly. There’s four of us in that house, and it’s full.”

  “And your new place is smaller,” Whitney said.

  “Half the size,” Ivory said with a smile. “I’m excited to move though. That place is too big for me and Tripp.” She pointed to the left. “There they are. Mal’s waving.” Ivory stepped in front of Whitney, seemingly supremely confident as she strode through the restaurant to a huge, circular booth in the back corner.

  “Hello, dears,” Penny said, standing at the end of the booth seat and hugging everyone who arrived. Whitney glanced around, and she wasn’t last. She slid into the booth beside Ivory and kept going to leave room for Callie, who hadn’t arrived yet.

  Penny sat down on the other end and beamed around at everyone.

  “Callie’s parking,” Evelyn said. Beside her, Simone held one of the triplets, but Whitney wasn’t sure which one. One of the boys, who she knew had been having some problems keeping his milk down.

  Callie arrived a moment later, and Penny hugged her. They both sat, and Penny said, “Thank you girls for clearing your schedules and getting babysitters so we can be here.”