The Holiday Bride

by Ginny Baird

  William peeked back out of Justin’s window, deciding his first impression wasn’t all bad. Hang on. Were those his parents cutting through the crowd? Good. It appeared they were headed for the back door. He’d need to go down and let them in. But first, he’d have to check on Carmella. He hadn’t seen her or Bridget all morning. They couldn’t have possibly slept through this?

  “Wow,” Justin said, eying the lawn. “Dave’s List is pretty effective, huh?”

  “You and I will square up later,” William said sternly before leaving.

  He passed Carmella’s room, noting that her bed was empty. He strode toward the master bedroom, but slowed his steps at the sound of singing. Bridget’s melodious voice rose in a sweet tune, And if that mockingbird won’t sing, papa’s gonna buy you a diamond ring... William halted and peered around the doorframe to spy Carmella cradled on Bridget’s lap. The little girl sighed happily, her tiny frame molded against Bridget’s. Neither one had seen him, so he quietly slipped away, fighting the fire in his eyes. They were a pair, the two of them. If only Carmella was right and there really was a Santa Claus, he could convince himself this portrait was more than make-believe.

  The doorbell chimed once more downstairs and William realized he’d better get moving. He had to meet his parents around back and get them indoors before one of the new reporters who’d just arrived discovered them.

  Emma blustered in the door, trailed by Grant. “What on earth is going on?” she asked, removing her hat and shaking it out.

  Grant quickly turned to bolt and chain the door. “Yeah, what?” he asked, his cheeks ruddy from the cold. There’d been a brief lull in the snow, though apparently it was long enough to allow all the marauders through. The light sprinkling that had started back up was obviously doing nothing to dissuade them.

  “It’s Justin,” William said, out of breath from racing down the stairs. “It seems that the Internet missing-person posting he designed revealed a bit more than we hoped for.”

  Justin, who’d been standing nearby, quietly slunk away.

  Emma’s sympathetic gaze followed him. “Oh now, I’m sure he didn’t mean it.”

  “I’m sure that he did,” Grant said removing his coat. “The boy’s older than you think, Emma.”

  “Yes, well, I plan to talk to him more about that later.” William glanced through the door window to see more suitors storming the house. “But for now,” he said, quickly shutting the blinds, “what are we going to do?”

  Grant parted two blind slats to peer between them. “We could make a run for it.”

  “Very funny.”

  “I’m serious!” Grant told his son. “Out the back way and around to our place.”

  “Don’t kid yourself, Dad. The backyard’s filling up, too.”

  “Have you called the police?” Emma asked.

  “Yes,” William answered, “but they said they already had a few officers on the scene. Didn’t mention they were carrying corsages!”

  Emma studied her son with kind brown eyes. “Do you think any of those men might actually know her?”

  William sighed. “I’m afraid there’s only one way to find out.”

  The trio looked toward the hall as Bridget and Carmella entered the kitchen.

  “Who are all those people out there?” Carmella wanted to know.

  William glanced at his parents. “Just some nice folks who’ve come to see Bridget.”

  “I knew it!” the child cried, wrapping herself around Bridget’s legs. “It’s just like E.T.” She looked up. “They’re coming to take you away!”

  Lucy’s heart pounded at the implausibility of it all. Could Justin’s Web notice really have sparked this pandemonium? She’d made a wreck of the Kinkaids’ holiday ever since coming here. And now, things had actually gone from bad to worse.

  “No honey,” William said. “They only want to talk to her, that’s all. Bridget won’t be going anywhere...” He paused, shooting Lucy a telling look. “Until she wants to.”

  Carmella studied him with moistened eyes. “By why would she want to? She’s ours, Daddy! You said so! Santa brought her to us.”

  William heaved a breath and Lucy dropped to her knees to address Carmella at eye level. “Don’t you worry, sweetheart. I have a feeling everything will work out just fine.” Despite the ruckus outdoors, perhaps some good would come of it. Maybe her intended was one of the men who’d come to whisk her away. Somebody good and kind like William, she thought, warming under the heat of his stare.

  William pulled his gaze from hers to address his daughter. “Why don’t you stay in here with your Grammy and Poppy and have some breakfast?”

  “If I have to,” Carmella said, regretfully letting Lucy go.

  “Mom? Dad?” William asked them. “If you don’t mind? Pancake mix is in the cupboard.”

  “Of course,” Emma said, helpfully heading for the stove.

  Lucy walked to the living room window and peeled back the sheers. “There are even more of them than before! Bless Justin. He must have built quite a Web page.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t go blessing him just yet,” William said flatly. “I think you should know the boy built a… very explicit ad, urging the man who knows you to come and take you home.”

  “Explicit how?”

  William swallowed hard. “You were scantily clad in items that looked like they came from some of those boxes. He used some sort of photography program.”

  “Oh!” she cried, her cheeks coloring.

  He leveled her an apologetic look. “Justin will be punished for it.”

  “Oh, no. I don’t think you should… I mean, just look at the results!”

  “Yes well,” he agreed, following her gaze out the window. “One could certainly claim the ad was successful.”

  She dropped the curtain and turned to face him, an unexpected melancholy taking hold. “I suppose this means I’ll soon be out of your way.” If it was possible, he appeared even more handsome than he had the day before, small flecks of gold warming his light brown eyes. “You must be relieved.”

  “No,” he said stepping forward. He paused and seemed to collect himself. “What I mean is, Carmella will really miss you.”

  Lucy’s heart warmed at the mention of the little girl. She was so sweet and trusting, and had cared for Lucy immediately in that hopeful childlike way. Lucy would have to be made out of stone not to start feeling some emotion for the child as well.

  “She’s a very special little girl,” she said.

  “Yes.” He studied her a prolonged beat. “Bridget, I have something to tell you. I heard you earlier, singing to Carmella upstairs.”

  Lucy felt her cheeks flame and dropped her chin. “Oh. I’m afraid my voice is—”

  “I thought it sounded heavenly,” he said.

  Slowly, she raised her eyes to his. What was it about him that sent her heart all out of kilter? “Well, I don’t know when... Can’t exactly recall singing before.”

  “And still you felt at home?”

  “Yes.”

  William stared down into Bridget’s big blue eyes. If he weren’t careful, he feared he’d tumble right inside them and get lost swimming there forever.

  “Can I ask you something?” she asked.

  “Anything,” he said, his voice gone husky.

  She tilted up her chin and he had that overwhelming sensation again that he needed to kiss her. Kiss her like he was damn sure he could do, and do right.

  “Did you always know you wanted to have kids?”

  “For as long as I remember,” he answered.

  “Yeah, me too,” she said. “Just somehow I never thought I’d really have them.”

  “You? Why not? Dr. Mass says you’re as healthy as they come. Apart from that little, you know.” He playfully tapped his forehead and smiled.

  “It’s just something I can’t remember,” she said, shaking her head. “Silly, probably.”

  “Well, somebody’s going to be awfully lucky to h
ave you as a mother... someday. When the timing is right.”

  She looked at him and grinned. “And Justin and Carmella are very lucky to have you.”

  Something pounded on the front door as a man’s voice shouted. “Say! Can we get this show on the road!”

  “Yeah, and look how lucky I am to have Justin,” William said with a wry twist to his lips.

  “Do I really have to meet with all of them?” she asked, clearly overwhelmed. How he wished he could rescue her from this, but he didn’t really see a way. If Bridget were his fiancé and missing, he’d be crazy with worry, no doubt. He didn’t think he’d don a suit of armor, but that wouldn’t dampen his urge to up and carry her away. William swallowed hard, realizing he was the one getting carried away. Totally swept up in some alternate reality where Bridget could actually be his. But she wasn’t, and as the man in charge, it was his duty to look after her. Even if that meant helping her find the man she was destined to be with forever.

  “I suppose you ought to look at them, at least. I mean, how else are you going to know?” he said.

  She frowned and glanced at the door. “Oh William. It’s just so much. There must be two hundred men out there!”

  Maybe more, he thought, thinking he spied a small figure through the sheer curtain covering the window. That couldn’t be Justin outdoors? Positioned at a table by the gate? “Well, we don’t have to do it all in one day,” he said, his attention back on Bridget, who was now standing in the threshold. “We can have some of them come back again tomorrow, if you’d like.”

  “Do you mean it?” she asked with a hopeful gaze.

  “Why sure, or the day after that.” That’s right, just keep talking, William. Why not go on and admit you’d prefer that none of them return until well into the New Year?

  She blushed sweetly, fine wisps of honey-colored hair framing her face. “But I’ve already taken up so much of your time. Been so much of an imposition.”

  He moved forward without thinking and took her by the elbows. “Oh no, you haven’t.”

  His eyes locked on hers, then simultaneously they both looked up to see they were standing below the mistletoe. Bridget stared down at her hand, her diamond glinting in the early light. William released her and abruptly stepped back.

  Bridget anxiously twisted her engagement ring. “You’re right. I’ll need to look at all of them.”

  “Yes. I suppose you should.”

  William tugged on his parka as he walked through the kitchen. “Has anybody seen Justin?”

  Emma turned from the stove as Grant buried his face in the paper. “I think he went outside, dear.”

  “Out in that?” William asked peering through the back door window. Just as he’d predicted, the backyard was also flooded with interested suitors. But the figure he’d spotted and thought was his son was around front. “What on earth is he doing?”

  “I’m not sure,” Emma said, absentmindedly flipping a flapjack.

  “He said he was selling lemonade!” Carmella proclaimed between mouthfuls.

  “Lemonade?” William queried. “But it’s December!”

  From behind his splayed paper, Grant just shrugged.

  William pressed his hand atop the sports page, lowering it to face his father. “Dad? Do you know something about this?”

  Grant coughed lightly. “I don’t see what’s so wrong with a little ingenuity.”

  William twisted his lips in thought, deciding something didn’t add up. And wherever the math had gone faulty, his dad was sure to be involved. He generally was. “I think you should come with me,” he told his father.

  “But it’s snowing out there!”

  “Don’t be such a big baby,” Emma scolded from the stove. “Pull on your parka!”

  William cut his way through the crowd, Grant reluctantly trailing along. “Excuse us! Coming through!” William called as two reporters and several men sprang at him. “I said, no comment,” he told the persistent news angler.

  When they got to the gate, William could scarcely believe his eyes. There sat Justin, all decked out in his leather jacket and shades, holding court at a folding table he must have dragged out of the garage. A poster stuck to the fence behind him boldly stated, “Pay to Play: 10 Bucks!” There was a coffee can at his elbow stuffed with cash, and William watched as a beleaguered groom inched up to the table and dug a hand in his pocket.

  “Got change?” he asked, holding out a twenty.

  Justin lowered his shades and solemnly shook his head.

  “Didn’t think so,” the man grumbled shoving his bill in the can.

  “Hey! Wait!” William called, snatching the cash out of the can and handing it back to him. “There’s no charge here.”

  He turned his gaze on Justin, who slunk down in his chair and cast a panicked look at Grant over the rim of his glasses.

  “You, young man,” William said with a shake of his finger, “are in deep.”

  “Really, son,” Grant added. “What were you thinking?”

  “But Grandpa!” Justin gasped. “Charging an admission fee was your idea!”

  William huffed and turned toward his father. “Both of you, in the house, please. Now.”

  ****

  Chapter Seven

  A few hours later, Lucy yawned on the sofa. They’d been at it all day, only breaking briefly for lunch, which Emma was kind enough to make. One by one, William had escorted each man in the house and asked for his credentials. After he’d supplied reasonable identification, the guy was asked to remove his hat, helmet—or whatever—and take a seat. All of the Kinkaids partook in the questioning, even little Carmella seated beside Lucy. William was on her other side, protectively close.

  By now, Lucy had lost track of the assorted construction workers, farmers, and sportsmen with implements in tow, which William had very wisely insisted they leave on the porch. But it was the undertaker who gave her pause, pasty pale in his approach, assuring her that their place was nice and quiet, dark and cool, too. Chill bumps raced down her spine saying, for sure, he wasn’t the one. Neither was the pilot asking her to come fly with me, the sheik in a turban, or the knight with a proclaimed penchant for the chastity belt!

  Finally, here before her sat a reasonable looking person, a mid-thirties naval officer who was really quite handsome, his blue eyes complemented by his uniform.

  “I’ve spent six long months at sea,” he said sincerely, “thinking of nothing but you.”

  Lucy sighed, almost daring to believe it. He seemed decent enough, fine and upstanding. Broadly built across the shoulders, too. She caught William watching her careful perusal of his chest and coughed.

  “Where did you say we lived again?” she asked, taking a sip of water Emma had placed on the coffee table for her earlier. All this talking had left her parched. Maybe, here at last, she’d come to her oasis. She looked the officer in the eye and he shared a winning smile.

  “In the prettiest little house, with a white picket fence.”

  “Oh,” she said, charmed. “That sounds lovely.”

  William stroked his chin and glanced at the guy. “White picket fences are a pain, you know,” he told Lucy.

  Grant leaned forward in his wing chair. “It’s true. Have to paint them every year.”

  “No worries about the little lady lifting a finger,” the officer said. “She can leave all the manly work to me.”

  William shifted uncomfortably as Grant watched his son. Emma surveyed them both before jumping in. “So what about ID?”

  The officer turned toward her, confused. “My military credentials? I already showed those.”

  Grant nodded approvingly at his wife. “Not those. We’re talking something more personal.”

  “Personal?” the man asked.

  “You bet,” William said.

  “Something to prove you’re the real McCoy.”

  “Proof! Yeah, we want proof!” Carmella butted in.

  Justin sat nearby watching the show with intere
st, but didn’t say a word. Lucy glanced at him and then at the others.

  “Proof’s not a bad idea,” she said, guessing what the Kinkaids had in mind. She studied her engagement ring a moment and looked the officer in the eye.

  “Well now, I was out at sea,” he faltered, “I’m not sure how much you think I—”

  “You would certainly know your nickname?”

  “Nickname?”

  “Sure, you know,” Lucy said brightly. “Something I might have called you. Something…” She flushed a little inspite of herself. “…intimate between the two of us. A pet name?”

  He stared at her, dumbfounded, then searched all of their faces. “Fido?”

  William closed the door a few seconds later as Emma spoke. “And to think, it looked like we were getting close there for a minute.”

  “Harrumph,” Grant said, shaking his head. “All a bunch of nut jobs.”

  “I’m afraid you’re right, Dad,” William agreed.

  Lucy sighed, exhausted. At this rate, they’d never find her true home.

  William regarded her sympathetically. “How about we take a break? You look as if you’re done for the day, and you still should rest after that whack on the head.”

  “That would be terrific,” she said, feeling her tension ease. Who knew it could be so hard trying to find the man you were in love with? “But what do we tell the others outside?”

  “Don’t worry,” William said, “I’ll take care of it.”

  William stepped out on the porch as Emma and William took Carmella into the kitchen for a snack. Justin lingered behind, eyeing Lucy.

  “You’ve really got them lined up around the block,” he said.

  “Thanks to your Web page,” she said, attempting to be pleasant.

  “Naw. I’d said it’s thanks to whatever it is Dad’s been staring at.”

  “What do you mean?”