by Liz Isaacson
“Try ‘im on the left side,” Pete said, holding Peony steady, though she didn’t need it.
Daddy limped around the other side and put his left foot in the stirrup. His hands shook. His right leg trembled, and Karl stepped right next to him, bracing that side. “Up you go,” he said, and Daddy did it.
Push, lift, throw, and he sat in the saddle. He grunted, keeping his eyes down as he situated himself in the seat, with the reins in the right hand. He looked up, and Jeremiah grinned at him while Wyatt whistled between his teeth.
“Thatta boy, Daddy,” Wyatt said, smiling too. “Hold there. I want to text Momma.” He held up his phone and snapped a picture of Daddy, who seemed to think smiling was against his religion.
“Come on, Dad,” Jeremiah said, chuckling. “Could you look like maybe you don’t want to die?”
“Yeah,” Wyatt said. “Smile, Daddy.” He smiled widely, as if demonstrating for a small child.
Daddy smiled, and Wyatt snapped, and Pete called, “We’re headed out. It’s a forty-minute ride today, and we’ll be out in the wilds of the ranch. You’re free to go wherever you want, but if you see a blue rope, that’s the limit. Come on back the way you went if you see that.” He led them out of the arena, and Jeremiah, Wyatt, and Daddy fell into line behind each other.
Outside, Jeremiah looked up into the blue, blue sky and let the weak November sunlight wash over his face. “What a time to be alive,” he said, meaning the words just for himself.
But Wyatt said, “Amen, brother,” as he waited for Jeremiah to catch him. The three of them walked in a row, side by side, saying nothing.
Jeremiah wasn’t sure what was so soothing about horseback riding in Texas, but he knew it definitely smoothed the ragged edges of his soul. “I feel so much better,” he said.
“I’m glad,” Daddy said.
“Me too,” Wyatt said.
“And look at Daddy, gettin’ back in the saddle,” Jeremiah said, looking to his left just in time to catch his dad’s proud smile for himself.
“It’s been a long road, boys,” he said. “And I don’t just mean since the accident.”
“Ah, life lesson,” Wyatt said, a teasing quality in his voice. He too looked forward though, same as Jeremiah and Daddy.
“A good road,” Jeremiah said a few minutes later, as if no silence had passed between them.
Daddy nodded, and Wyatt added, “A blessed road.”
Jeremiah couldn’t argue with that, and while he’d spent some years of his life in a boxing match with the Lord, he now knew not to fight Him but to work with Him. He was the Master, and while Jeremiah didn’t necessarily like being pulled and shaped and formed, he truly believed God knew what He was doing.
He had to, because he’d created horses and the good state of Texas, and Jeremiah was sure those had been done just for him. A smile touched his soul, and he finally felt like he was back in God’s good graces.
Thank you for the gift of forgiveness, he thought, knowing he’d probably need it again in this lifetime. And that was perfectly okay.
Jeremiah was okay.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Simone couldn’t suck in her stomach, so she stood there and waited while the dress attendant tried to get the zipper to go up. “I don’t think this is the one,” she said.
“Maybe just one size up,” the woman said.
Simone met her eye in the mirror and smiled. “I’m pregnant, and there’s no way one size up is staying on my shoulders.” She did like this dress, but not if she couldn’t zip it. And there was still three weeks until the wedding.
She was only going to get bigger.
“Let me talk to Angela,” she said. “I know we have some maternity dresses.” She waited while Simone stepped out of the wedding dress and then she took it with her.
Simone sat on the bench in the dressing room in her slip, her sisters’ voices beyond the door filtering back to her. This dress was the last thing Simone needed for the perfect Christmas wedding.
She had the cake. The flowers. The tables and chairs rented. She’d held all the Walker brothers and their wives as she hosted a special family meeting at their house, and there would be all the wedding essentials—arches, lights, altars, candles, lanterns, ornaments, and plenty of mistletoe.
Simone and Micah were getting married at night, under the vast, starry sky of Texas, and she sighed, seeing the event in her mind’s eye in all its glory.
But she couldn’t show up in her slip and shoes. And she supposed she still had to get those too, because she hadn’t wanted to buy them before the dress in case they didn’t match.
Several minutes later, a blonde woman with a faux hawk entered the dressing room. With such short hair and such bright lipstick, Angela’s beauty struck Simone right in the throat. Maybe she should cut her hair like that, and she eyed the shaved sides of Angela’s head.
After the wedding, she told herself. She didn’t want to make any drastic changes this close to the ceremony. No need to be too dramatic.
“Simone?”
“Yes.” She stood up and shook Angela’s hand.
“Can I take your measurements? Then we can pull a few things from the back.”
“Of course.” Simone stood straight and tall and let Angela measure her bust, around her baby belly, her hips, and from shoulder to shoulder.
“I know we have a beautiful dress for you,” she said. “I saw it come in last week.”
“For someone five months pregnant?” Almost six, actually.
Angela smiled as if they had pregnant brides in Three Rivers every day. “Yes,” she said. “I even said I wished I was pregnant so I could wear it.” Her eyes sparkled with truth, and Simone actually believed her. “Be right back.”
She hadn’t written anything down, and Simone caught the door as she left, gesturing for Evelyn and Callie to come into the dressing room with her.
“What are they doing?” Evelyn asked.
“Finding a dress for a six-month pregnant woman,” Simone said. “I told them I was pregnant when I called.”
“It’s fine,” Callie said, sitting on the bench. “Liam has the kids today. I’m good for forever.”
“Same,” Evelyn said.
“You’re going to be home when I have the baby, right?” Simone asked Callie. She’d asked her a handful of times already, but she needed the reassurance.
Callie smiled, always so patient. “Yes, Simone. We’ve scheduled to be here for three weeks starting a week before you’re due. I’m going to be here.”
“Where are you going first?” Evelyn asked. “Have you decided?”
“Yes,” Callie said. “I booked a house for a week in Oklahoma City.”
“Oklahoma City? What on Earth are you going to do there?”
“Explore,” Callie said. “Then we’re going to Bentonville, Arkansas. They have fun biking trails there, and I can’t remember the last time I rode a bike.”
“Those are mountain biking trails,” Evelyn said. “You know you’re not just going to be riding down the street, right?”
“Thank goodness I have you to tell me,” Callie said, rolling her eyes.
Simone burst out laughing, because Evelyn was not handling Callie’s travelogue very well. Simone suspected Evelyn would like to be the one moving from vacation house to vacation house every week or two or three, seeing the country and exploring with her kids.
“I’m just saying,” Evelyn said.
“Yes, I know,” Callie said. “But I have the Internet, and I did research. We’re going to stick down here until Simone has the baby, and then we’re going to go west to the coast and the beach.”
“Sounds amazing,” Simone said, her own jealousy spiraling a bit. But she knew that if she wanted to travel, Micah would make it happen. Micah could make anything happen, and he’d done exactly what he’d pledged to do. He’d been home for dinner every night on time. He hadn’t taken on any new clients.
He’d finished the homestead at Shi
loh Ridge Ranch, and he’d gotten the Thompson ladies all squared away too. He’d been steadily working on her workshop, and he’d gone into secret mode, not letting her come in and see the progress he made each day.
He claimed it would be ready any day now, and she’d just have to wait to see the final product. Simone smiled just thinking about him and the workshop, because it was a physical representation of how much he loved her.
And it felt so nice to be loved by a good cowboy.
“All right,” Angela said, opening the door again. “Oh, we have a crowd.”
“Can they stay?” Simone asked. The dressing room could easily fit them, and Angela hung up the dress she carried as she nodded.
“Sure. Come in, Taylor.” The woman who’d been helping Simone earlier, entered with two more dresses. There seemed to be entirely too much lace, too many poofs, and an abundance of layers.
“Let’s try the Marion Smith first,” Angela said.
“Marion Smith?” Simone asked, her eyes meeting Angela’s in the mirror. “She has maternity dresses?”
“It’s not exactly a maternity dress,” Angela said as she removed the hanger from a pair of straps that looked like they could hold Simone together properly. “But she’s got a unique design that allows the dress to be tailored in specific spots—like the midsection—and I think it’s going to be fabulous.” She smiled like she really believed herself too, and Simone looked at the dress.
It was pure white, like driven snow untouched by humans, protected by angels themselves. It was made of ruffles, and Angela said, “It’s got a ridged design that hides a lot.” She stooped and Simone stepped into the dress.
“Oh, it’s nice,” she said, as the fabric kissed her skin like cold water in a desert. She closed her eyes and added, “I’m not going to look. Tell me when I can open my eyes.”
Angela laughed as she pulled the dress over Simone’s hips, belly, and bust and started doing something in the back. “Can you pull it on the sides, Taylor?” she asked, and Simone sensed the other attendant moving around her.
“Like this?” She tugged on the sides, and Angela did something to hold the dress in place. Simone wasn’t sure how she would get herself into this thing for the wedding, but she knew Evelyn and Callie would help. Penny, and Mal, and Whitney too. And Marcy and Ivory. She had plenty of help, she realized.
“It’s gorgeous,” Evelyn said.
“Absolutely stunning,” Callie added.
“I’m not looking,” Simone said, smiling and working hard to keep her eyes shut. “Stop trying to entice me to look.”
“Almost got it,” Angela said, and she and Taylor kept working together until she finally said, “All right. Open your eyes.”
She took a deep breath, preparing herself to see something hideous. But this was Marion Smith. Nothing the designer did was hideous.
She opened her eyes, and the perfect picture of a bride looked back at her. “Oh,” came out of her mouth.
Behind her, one of her sisters sniffled, but Simone could not look away from herself. They had not hidden the baby, but the dress bumped out where her body did, and she loved that. The fabric clung to her chest too, the wide straps tasteful and wide enough to keep everything lifted where it should be.
The skirt drifted down from the bottom curve of her baby bump, ending in a puddle on the floor.
“I love this,” she said, twisting to see the back. Angela had been tying back there, as well as threading dozens and dozens of little cords through tiny eyelets that allowed them to pull more where she needed it and leave room where she did too.
The cords then created a beautiful waterfall down her back that Simone absolutely loved. “Wow.”
“It’s lovely,” Callie said.
Yes, the dress was perfect. Simone smiled as she put one hand on her baby and one on the strap on her left shoulder.
In that moment, the baby kicked, and she looked down, giggling. “He likes it.”
“Is he kicking?” Evelyn stepped around her and put her hand on Simone’s stomach too. “Oh, he is.” She grinned and leaned against Simone in a half hug. “I love you,” she said.
Surprise moved through her. They weren’t a terribly sentimental family, and while they’d always gotten along, looked out for each other, and worked together, they didn’t often express their love for one another.
“I love you too, Evvy.” Simone’s excuse for her tears was the pregnancy hormones. Callie wept as she joined them, and they hugged.
“I love you both,” she murmured, and they repeated the sentiment back to her. Simone thought of Gran, and then her mother, and they were suddenly both with her and Evelyn and Callie in the dressing room.
Later that day, Simone had barely hung the dress in the closet in the spare bedroom when she heard Micah enter the house. “I’m home,” he called, and Simone hurried out of the room, taking a moment to close the door behind her.
“Hey,” she said, arriving in the main area of the house a little out of breath.
He eyed her. “What were you doing?”
She smiled as she approached him, putting both hands around his neck and tipping up on her toes to kiss him. “I found a dress today.”
“Is that right?” He held onto her waist and leaned down to meet her halfway. She kissed him hello, though he’d just been working in the backyard.
“Yes, that’s right,” she said.
“And I don’t get to see it.”
“Not before the wedding,” she said. “It’s bad luck.”
Micah chuckled as he released her. “Simone, you know everything about our wedding is whack, right?”
“Whack?”
“Weird,” he said, tossing his wallet on the counter and stepping over to the sink to wash his hands. “Unconventional. We’re already married.”
“Yeah, I know,” she said.
“So maybe I can see the dress.”
“I need a lot of help getting into it,” she said.
“I can help.” He finished washing and grabbed a towel hanging from the handle of the oven. He faced her, that trademark smirk on his face.
Simone toyed with the idea, because he was right. They were already married. The whole ceremony was unconventional. “Fine,” she said. “You can see it.”
“I can?” He laughed and put the towel back. “I wasn’t really expecting that to work.” He started toward the front hallway, and Simone went with him. In the few seconds it took to go into the bedroom, she oscillated back and forth about this decision.
But then Micah pulled open the closet, and he saw the dress. So it was done. “Wow,” he said, reaching for it. Simone nearly darted in front of him, narrowly reminding herself that he’d just washed his hands.
He held it lovingly and looked up at her. “This is going to be so much better than the first time.”
“Yeah,” she said. “Because this time, we’ll both know it’s happening.”
“There’s that too,” he said. “It won’t be this mock matrimony thing we didn’t even know about.”
“Exactly.”
Micah grinned and said, “All right, my bride. Get those clothes off and let’s get you into this.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Micah held tight to Simone’s hand, hoping she didn’t stumble down the steps that led to the back patio. “Keep your eyes closed,” he said. “We’re going down the three steps from the kitchen to the patio.”
“Okay,” she said, one hand in his and the other thrown out in front of her. He smiled to himself as he took her down the stairs. His heart beat like a big, Hawaiian drum, loud in his ears and chest and the back of his throat.
He’d been working on her she-shed for a couple of months now—maybe longer—and it was time to reveal it to her. After making her wait for an hour while he made sure every little thing was in the just-right place, adjusting the pictures on the wall a thousand times before taking a deep breath and standing back.
“Okay,” he said, reaching for th
e doorknob. “I’m going to take you all the way in, and you don’t open your eyes until I say, okay?”
“Okay,” she said again, her smile permanently on her face. He opened the door, and the softly blowing warm air brushed his face. “The heater’s been on for a couple of hours. Don’t worry, I didn’t set it too high.”
“Sixty-eight,” she said, and he echoed it.
“A small step over the doorframe,” he said, easing her over it. He shuffled her inside and closed the door behind her. “I think I’m more nervous than you are.” He took a deep breath, admiring the corner directly in front of them. It was the photo corner, with huge windows shining pure light down on the white table he’d put there. Simone could eat there too, and that was the corner he’d decorated with a letter board already set up for the month of December, a picture of them she’d snapped at Thanksgiving dinner, and the poster he’d made her for her birthday.
“All right,” he drawled. “You can open your eyes.” He knew what the she-shed looked like. He’d spent the better part of the last three days moving everything from the workspace at the Shining Star to her new location, and he wanted to see her reaction to what he’d done for her.
“Oh, my goodness.” She sucked in a breath and covered her mouth with both hands. Tears filled her eyes, but she blinked them back. “Look at that table.”
“That’s the picture nook,” he said.
She nodded, taking a delicate step forward. She gasped. “My birthday poster. That’s what you did with it.” She turned toward him, letting the tears flow down her face now. “I love you so much.”
“I know, baby.” He took her into his arms and hugged her, their baby between them. He’d made her a big poster for her birthday that said 40 things he loved about her. She’d turned forty last month, and they’d celebrated with cake every day for a week, a quick trip to a luxury lodge near San Antonio, and he’d made the poster for her.
He’d taken it a couple of weeks ago, claiming to have a plan for it, and he’d mounted it to a thin piece of sheet metal and hung it in her shed. Now, every time she came out here to work, she’d remember how much he adored her.
