The Accidental Bride

by Christina Skye

  Somehow she managed to bite back her questions. She moved beside him and traced the hard line of his jaw. “One thing this illness has taught me is that life is too short to play games. You’re too good for that. And I’m finally starting to realize that I’m too good for that, too.” She blew out a little breath. “I can’t believe how long it’s taken me to see that.” She rose onto her toes and slowly kissed him, a light touch that quickly grew raw with need.

  Jilly took a step back, watching his face. “I can take these things inside. I saw you glancing at your watch. Go on. Winslow will be safe with me.”

  “I know he will.” He smiled, tracing the fringe of her suede coat.

  Then his shoulders straightened. His expression slowly turned distant. When he looked down at Winslow and patted his leg, the dog trotted across to him in an instant response. “Stay with her,” Walker said in what was a clear command. “Take care of her, Winslow. That’s your job.” The dog’s body quivered with eagerness and the desire to please. “Good boy.”

  Walker looked back at Jilly. “I’ll be thinking about you. And about us.” His cell phone chimed from his pocket and he frowned. “Jilly, I have to—”

  “Take your call.” She gathered up Winslow’s bed and blanket from the backseat of the truck. “We’ll be fine. Now get moving.”

  * * *

  SHE FORCED HERSELF NOT to look back as his truck drove away. Once she was inside the cabin, she filled the dog’s bowl with water, set up his dog bed and blanket near the couch and yawned as the day finally began to catch up with her. After a quick shower, she changed and slid into bed, smiling to see Winslow watching every move she made.

  Protecting her. Just the way Walker had ordered.

  “Go to sleep. Everything’s fine, honey.”

  Jilly turned out the light and yawned again. And though she braced herself for a typical night of tossing and turning and insomnia, she was asleep within minutes.

  * * *

  THE MOON WAS JUST RISING over the mountain when a sound woke Jilly. She sat up, shivering in the darkness.

  It took a moment to realize that there was a weight draped over her feet. A big warm body curled next to her on the bed, dark eyes studying her restlessly.

  When had Winslow gotten up on the bed?

  A wet nose nudged her arm and then burrowed under the blanket. Jilly laughed. “Blanket hog, are you? I’ll have to remember that.” She thought about Walker, somewhere in the night. Fighting the dark in ways that he could never discuss. “Be careful,” she whispered.

  Her hand slid through Winslow’s fur and Jilly felt the dog relax, resting his head on her hip.

  As if he’d always been there.

  As if he always would.

  It’s going to be all right, she thought. Somehow they would figure this out.

  She smiled a little in the darkness. “After all, Winslow, I’m a force of nature.”

  * * *

  THE SUN WAS JUST RISING. Pink light brushed the snow on the distant mountains as Mamie poured fresh orange juice for Jonathan, who was sitting at her kitchen table. He had slept there the night before, concerned about her health. Though she had meant to be tough and strong and send him home, somehow Mamie hadn’t had the will.

  Because she was frightened. Next week she was scheduled for more tests. Her breathing problems were worse. So was her erratic pulse.

  It was hell growing old, Mamie thought.

  But her smile never wavered as she filled Jonathan’s plate with his favorite chocolate-chip French toast, added butter and then poured on a healthy dose of the organic maple syrup she kept in the pantry just for her favorite grandson. Then she sat down, simply enjoying the sight of his healthy appetite. It was so exactly like her beloved Jackson.

  Jonathan brushed maple syrup from his chin and frowned. “Grandma, why aren’t you eating? You don’t eat enough.”

  “I had an egg an hour ago, before you got up. And Red sent over some of that nice oatmeal that I like so much. Stop worrying about me and finish your French toast.” Mamie looked down the hill toward the curve of cottages strung out between the meeting rooms and the main lodge. “I hear that Jilly had a date with Walker last night.”

  “It wasn’t exactly a date.” Jonathan frowned at his plate. “At least according to Red. He said Walker and Jilly didn’t look romantic or anything. Red made a point of watching them drive away.”

  Mamie stirred sugar into her herbal tea and drummed her fingers on the table. “But Walker might be interested? And Jilly might be interested back?”

  “He wouldn’t thank you for meddling,” Jonathan said quietly.

  “Then I guess he’d better never find out.” Mamie blew at her tea and then sighed. “It’s been too long since we’ve had a wedding here on the mountain. And believe it or not, I can remember back when we used to have weddings here all the time. Those were the days.”

  Mamie stood up and wandered through the kitchen into the living room. She straightened a pile of magazines she wouldn’t read, plumped up a set of pillows on the couch she didn’t use and then moved to the table at the big picture window. With gentle fingers she traced an assortment of framed photographs. This was what mattered. These smiling faces and the rich, warm glow of precious memories kept her heart moving. She remembered every photograph as if it had been taken yesterday. Funny, how the brain worked, Mamie thought. Some days she could barely remember what she’d eaten for lunch.

  And yet these photographs were as clear as the Waterford crystal she loved.

  She picked up the last picture in the row and studied a girl hiking up a mountain, hair flying, eyes radiant. Her heart tugged as it always did. The weight of loss left her suffocating for a moment. And then Mamie’s fingers tightened.

  It was long ago. Too long ago to be dwelling on the sadness.

  “You still miss her, don’t you, Grandma?” Jonathan stood beside her, looking at the bar of sunlight brushing the girl’s smiling face.

  Mamie reached over to pat his hand. “No, I don’t. Because she’s still here. Right now, beside me. I can hear her laugh ring through the air. Sometimes at night, I can swear that she’s right back there in the kitchen, pulling milk out of the refrigerator the way she always did. Don’t worry about me, honey.”

  “But I do worry.” Jonathan took a sharp breath. “And I worry about those tests you’re going to have next week. I hope—”

  Gently Mamie put a finger across his mouth and shook her head. “Today we’re not going to worry. Not about anything. I thought we agreed on that.” With gentle care she rested the photograph amid all the others, the pieces of a life well lived. “Now you and I have work to do in the attic, remember? I’m finally going to throw out all those years of junk up there.” Her eyes crinkled. “Since you get to do the heavy work, I suggest you go back in there and finish off that last piece of French toast. You’re going to need it.”

  * * *

  “I’M NOT EXACTLY SURE. I haven’t done a lot of knitting.” Jilly stared at the pile of yarn on the counter of the knitting shop set up temporarily at the resort.

  The color range was overwhelming. Which shade would Walker like best for a blanket? Green? Red? Blue?

  And what weight? She hadn’t expected there would be so many choices.

  The woman in the shop must have seen her distress because she looked down at the jumble of yarn Jilly had assembled and quietly pulled all but four out of the group. “I think these would be good. You said you were just starting to knit?”

  Jilly nodded. “But I want it to be good. Nice and warm. A blanket for a winter night.”

  “We can do that. This is beautiful merino from Uruguay, hand spun and hand dyed. No wool allergies of any sort, I take it?”

  Jilly didn’t think so, but frankly she wasn’t sure. Then she remembered all the wool hangings and wool rugs in Walker’s cabin, not to mention the sweaters she’d seen him wear, and shook her head.

  “Next is the color. It’s for a man, right?�
��

  “A man and his dog. And I think that teal blue is good. He has a blue shirt he likes. A blue sweater, too. Yes, the teal.”

  “It just happens that I have two bags’ worth of that same color. That should be enough for a nice-size blanket. Now let’s get you set up with some needles. Since you’re just starting, I think you should make a swatch.”

  Jilly racked her brains and then remembered what the word meant. “Swatch. That’s a small sample knit, something you do to test your needle size and how loose you knit.”

  “Correct. For this yarn, I’m thinking you should start with a size eight needle. Are you a loose or a tight knitter?”

  Jilly didn’t have a clue.

  But the calm, expert woman at the counter only laughed and put two sets of needles down next to Jilly. “Start with the eights. See how it looks.” She pushed one ball of the glowing teal yarn over to Jilly. “You can start with this.”

  When Jilly reached into her tote bag for her credit card to charge the yarn, the woman shook her head firmly. “You’re Jilly O’Hara, right? The woman who managed to put out that fire in the kitchen? No way are you allowed to pay. Mamie gave strict orders. Whatever you choose is on the house.”

  Jilly blinked. “I can’t do that. She doesn’t owe me anything. I just happened to be in the right place at the right time.”

  “Better take it up with Mamie. I have my orders.” The woman looked wistfully at the wall of yarn and shook her head. “I only wish someone would offer me free rein in here. Good yarn is expensive.”

  As Jilly started to protest, three excited students gathered around the desk. Gathering up her needles and yarn, she found a seat by the window and sat down with the one-page stitch pattern the woman had helped her choose. It had lots of texture, but it was still supposed to be easy.

  Looking at the chart, Jilly felt her confidence waver. There were so many stitches. So much to remember.

  But for Walker and Winslow, she would give her best effort. They would have a blanket even if it killed her.

  She looked down at Winslow, dashing in his blue bandanna. “Just so you appreciate the effort here. I’m way out of my comfort zone with this project.”

  Winslow yawned.

  “Yeah, I didn’t think you’d be impressed.”

  The big dog wriggled closer to Jilly, resting his head on her knee.

  “But this stays our secret, right? Just you and me. It’s going to be worth it to see Walker’s face when I’m done.”

  * * *

  THREE HOURS LATER JILLY sat on the patio sipping a hot chocolate, bathed in a glow of pride. With the help of several knitters and her mother and daughter friends from the day before, she had completed four inches of the blanket.

  Not that it had been easy. She had to think about each stitch, frowning over the chart that the woman in the yarn shop had given her. But already the textures popped, sharp and beautiful as they rose against the soft teal yarn.

  Jilly O’Hara, knitting. Who would have thought it?

  “So here you are.” Red walked across the patio carrying a big plastic carton. “I have a little surprise for you.”

  Jilly knew what it was. She could smell it before he even opened the lid.

  “You finished the treats for Winslow. That’s wonderful, Red.”

  “Only the best for Winslow.” With a flourish, he pulled out a treat and knelt down next to the dog, offering the smoked and dried beef. Winslow sniffed the length of Red’s fingers, gently took the morsel and trotted off to eat.

  “I’d say that was a success,” Jilly said. “Five stars, if dog language says anything.”

  “Yeah, well I had a great recipe to work from. I loved how thorough you were. Every detail was spelled out. I think you could have a side business selling upscale dog treats, Jilly.”

  “Don’t get me started. The last thing I need is another business.”

  One of the women at a nearby chair got up to leave and Jilly motioned for Red to sit down. They watched Winslow savor his treat, oblivious to everything going on around him.

  Red cleared his throat. “So how long do you expect to have Walker’s dog with you?”

  “Not sure. Originally he said two days. But when he left he didn’t know how long he’d be away.”

  “A job?”

  “I guess.” Jilly shrugged. “He didn’t say much. I gather that he’s not supposed to talk about what he does.”

  Red nodded. “Yeah, something very hush-hush, no doubt. Jonathan usually watches Winslow if Walker has to go out of town. I guess this means that you and Walker are…” Red cleared his throat again. “Pretty friendly.”

  Jilly’s eyebrow rose. “I’m just doing a favor for a friend, Red. Don’t read a whole lot into this.”

  “No, of course not. You’re just friends. Absolutely. The only thing…” He leaned down, studying Winslow, who was drooling over the jerky. “Walker isn’t one to make friends easily. In fact, he’s been an actual recluse up on that mountain for most of the time that I’ve known him. Between Mamie and Jonathan, they get him down to town once a week, at most. Then you turn up.” Red’s eyebrows rose. “And now we see him in town or here at the resort most every day. So…I’m not sure I would call it friendship.” He raised a hand in mock surrender as Jilly started to argue. “No need to argue. What goes on between the two of you is your business. But I’ve been thinking about something. I’ve been thinking about it a lot.” Red stood up abruptly, pacing in a circle around Jilly’s chair.

  “What have you been thinking about?”

  He stopped, dug a broad, beefy hand through his hair and shook his head. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.” He set the plastic carton of beef jerky down on the table next to Jilly. “Here you go. Don’t let him eat them all in one sitting.” Then he strode off toward the kitchen, leaving Jilly more confused than ever.

  * * *

  TO HER SURPRISE, JILLY actually began to enjoy herself.

  The teal blanket was growing, and she was now into her third ball of yarn. Walker had called her once on the phone in her cabin, speaking tersely, asking about Winslow. He hadn’t volunteered information about where he was or when he would be back.

  Jilly thought he sounded tired.

  Over the following day she learned more stitches and made more samples with big and small needles. That afternoon she spread her knitting tools on the patio outside her cabin, pulled a warm fleece blanket around her and went to work on her knitting, while Winslow curled up beside her.

  A beep sounded from her cell phone. Glancing down, Jilly saw a text message from an unknown number.

  How’s the knitting? Have you stabbed anyone with a needle yet?

  Jilly realized this was the mobile number Walker had given her. She smiled and began to type.

  Only one person. Myself. I was terrible at first, but I’m starting to get the knack.

  Of course you are. You’d be great at whatever you try. How’s Winslow?

  Wonderful. Red made a batch of beef jerky for him. He’s been in dog heaven ever since.

  Lucky dog. Thank Red for me, will you?

  Already did. By the way, you didn’t tell me that Winslow was a blanket hog. Or that he was going to sleep in bed with me every night.

  No kidding? I guess he really does have a thing for you. I guess now it’s official. I think I’m a little bit jealous.

  Jilly smiled, and then reached down to scratch Winslow under the chin. She looked up and blinked as something white drifted down across the patio. Seconds passed before she realized what it was.

  A snowflake.

  The first snowflake of the year.

  She laughed as more flakes appeared. Pulling the blanket closer around her, she began to type.

  Can you believe it? It’s snowing here. Just a little, but that’s definitely the white stuff.

  That’s early, even for Lost Creek.

  Jilly watched more snowflakes drift across the patio. She’d never realized how beautiful snow coul
d be. She never saw it back in Arizona. Even in their part of Oregon snowstorms were scarce. She looked down as her phone chimed with another text message.

  Looks like we’re finishing up here. With luck I should be back sometime tomorrow. Thanks again for everything.

  My pleasure. In fact, you may have to fight to take Winslow back. It’s going to be hard sleeping alone after this.

  The minute Jilly sent the message, she felt her face burn. Why had she said that? Fuming, she scanned the screen, waiting for his answer.

  I might have a remedy for that particular problem…

  Jilly read the words a second time. There was no mistake about what he was implying. And she liked the image of Walker stretched out beneath a blanket, sharing her bed.

  Sharing her life, too.

  In his absence everything seemed to be clearer. She could accept her longing to be close and to open up, without worry for the risks....

  Up the hill the trees grew dim, curtained by the falling snow. Jilly watched the branches change and fade. She closed her eyes, rubbing her face hard. Share her life? Who was she kidding?

  It was a fantasy, a lovely image with no chance of permanency.

  * * *

  SHE WAS CAUGHT IN THE middle of a dream about heirloom tomatoes and fresh mango salsa when she felt a pressure at her chest. For a moment Jilly froze, afraid that her cardiac symptoms had returned.