Falling for a Father of Four

by Arlene James

  They settled that in short order, and then there seemed nothing more to say. Orren looked around at everyone present and felt the tension building again. “I’d better be going,” he said to Mattie. “I want to spend the rest of the evening with the kids.”

  She nodded. “All right.”

  He looked at Amy. “Nice to meet you, ma’am. Thanks for opening your home.”

  “My pleasure,” Amy replied gently.

  He lifted his free hand to the minister. “Reverend.”

  “That’s Bolton.”

  “Bolton, I appreciate your efforts.”

  “Anytime,” Bolton said, shaking his hand. “I expect I’ll be seeing you at least a couple times a week for a while.”

  Orren looked at Mattie. “Yes, I’ve already promised Mattie. I’ll be in church with her and the kids from now on.”

  “Good man,” Bolton said. “I look forward to it.”

  Orren smiled and switched his gaze to Evans Kincaid. Steeling himself, Orren stepped forward and stuck out his hand again. “I appreciate you hearing me out, sir,” he said. Evans looked at Orren’s hand, then he looked at each one present in turn, beginning with Bolton Charles and ending with his wife. Then he walked out of the room without a word.

  Mattie bit her lip and laid her head against Orren’s chest. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

  “Not your fault,” she said.

  Amy had risen and come to them. She laid a hand on each of them. “He’ll come around.”

  “I hope so,” Orren said.

  “We’ll make it a matter of prayer,” Bolton said. “He’s a good man. He’s open to God’s leadership. His fears will ease.”

  Orren nodded and pressed a hand to the small of Mattie’s back. “Walk me out, darlin’?”

  “Absolutely.” She turned against him, to stand at his side. Arm in arm, they left the room. At the door they paused to face each other. Orren smoothed back her hair and bent his head to kiss her. She lifted her mouth to his. He didn’t let it get too involved. He didn’t dare. After he lifted his head, he said, “I like your Reverend Charles.”

  “Everyone does.”

  “I can see why.”

  “I love you, Orren.”

  “Oh, sweetheart, I love you so much. And I know we’re going to be okay.”

  She smiled for him, and he kissed her again.

  He stepped out into a warm, muggy evening a few moments later and sighed. His future father-in-law hated his guts, but for some reason his future wife loved him almost as much as he loved her, and that was what counted most. He only hoped, for his love’s sake, that Evans Kincaid eventually came around. Mattie deserved her father’s blessing and support. If Evans was anything like him, he’d eventually understand that. Meanwhile, Orren figured he’d take a leaf from the reverend’s Good Book and say a few prayers himself.

  Mattie adjusted the wisp of veil that draped the brim of her wide straw hat and covered her face to the chin. She stepped back from the mirror and gave herself one more critical assessment. Her white, sleeveless, lace-covered, tea-length dress clung closely to her body, the skirt flaring just below the knees. A sweetheart neckline made the most of her bust. The simple, summery style suited her. With her long, dark hair flowing freely down her back, as Orren preferred it, she looked very much like what she was, a young, summer bride. If only her father could accept that she knew what she was doing.

  She touched the small, heart-shaped, sapphire pendant that hung from a delicate silver chain around her neck. It had belonged to her mother. Amy had brought it to her only this morning, saying that Evans himself had taken the small, blue velvet box from his dresser drawer and sent it to her. Perhaps he was unbending just a bit. Perhaps he would even come, after all. She had accepted that he would not, as she had always dreamed, walk her down the aisle, but if he would just appear at the wedding, she would feel that she had not lost him. Pushing away the ripe despair that momentarily threatened to swamp her, Mattie reminded herself that she was about to marry the man of her dreams—and become a mother four times over!

  As if on cue, the patter of a small herd of patent leather shoes filled the dressing room with a happy clatter. “Mommy!”

  Candy Sue had taken to calling her that and throwing herself at Mattie’s legs with the force of a small locomotive every time she entered a room. This time Mattie lurched forward at the waist and held out her arms to keep the little darling from ruining her white silk stockings with the buckle of her patent leather shoes. “Oh, how beautiful!”

  She held off the giggling curly-top and took in the pale pink, full-skirted dress with its ruffly lace pinafore. A crown of white daisies was almost lost in the frothy curls of her pale blond hair. Yancy busily brushed down the hem of Candy Sue’s skirt and handed her the tiny yellow basket that held the daisy and rose petals that she was supposed to sprinkle along the aisle of the church. Yancy had grown up so much these past few weeks. Her own pale hair had been styled in a smooth pageboy, and she wore her crown of daisies as if it was a crown of diamonds. The nosegay of pink rosebuds on her wrist remained as perfectly uncrushed as it had in the moment Amy had tied the pale yellow ribbons. Her stiffened petticoats stood out in a full circle around her thighs, and her pinafore remained as white as snow. She took her duties as bridesmaid very seriously.

  Jean Marie was much more sanguine. With her wild red hair tamed into a wispy bun atop her head and her daisies pinned in place, she seemed as relaxed as if she wore shorts and a T-shirt. She carried Mattie’s bouquet of daisies and pink roses nonchalantly in the crook of her arm. “Amy says it’s time.”

  “You should see Daddy,” Yancy breathed dreamily. “He looks just like a movie star!”

  Jean Marie elbowed her impatiently. “You said he looked like a prince before and wanted him to wear a real crown.” She rolled her eyes to make her opinion of that known before addressing herself once more to Mattie. “Chaz is waiting outside to take you to the door. I told him he didn’t have to, but he says he does. Creeps, you’d think he was giving you away to some stranger, he’s so nervous.”

  Mattie took her bouquet from her soon-to-be-daughter and composed herself. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

  Jean Marie marched over and opened the door, while Yancy fussed with Candy Sue’s hem again. Mattie curtsied slightly to Chaz, who stood stiffly in his new gray suit, white dress shirt and pale gray tie. He stuck out his arm, and she reached down to slip her hand around his bent elbow. As stately as a king going to his coronation, he stepped off. They moved down the narrow hall and into the foyer of the sanctuary. Mattie came to an abrupt halt, her heart dying away in her chest.

  There in the otherwise deserted foyer, her stepmother stood with her arms thrown around a man in full-dress uniform. Mattie lifted a hand to cover her mouth. Was it…? Surely it must be! She held her breath, afraid to move or make a sound lest the vision prove a dream.

  Sensing they were no longer alone, Amy withdrew and turned to face Mattie, tears streaming down her face. But Mattie had eyes only for the tall, handsome, dark-haired man at her stepmother’s side. Tears sparkled in Evans Kincaid’s troubled eyes.

  “Mattie.”

  She heard a peace offering in his voice—and acceptance. Crying out, she flew into his arms. “Daddy!”

  He hugged her hard, knocking her hat slightly askew. “I love you so much,” he whispered.

  “I love you, too! Oh, Daddy, thank you!”

  After a long while, he held her apart. Tears had left wet tracks down his cheeks and clung to her own lashes. Reaching beneath the veil, he rubbed them away with the tip of his thumb. “There now. Every bit as beautiful as your mother was.”

  She laughed with sheer joy. A small presence at her side made her look down into Chaz’s suspiciously solemn face. Mattie glanced a silent message to her stepmother. At the same time, Evans bent slightly to address the boy. “If you don’t mind, son, I’ll walk my daughter down the aisle.”

  A smile broke across Chaz’s face, a
nd he nodded, obviously glad to be relieved of the duty. Amy pulled him aside, whispering new instructions, then quickly ushering everyone into place, she and Chaz in the front of the line. Bringing up the rear, Mattie quickly straightened her hat and veil. Amy took Chaz’s arm, and together they moved down the aisle. The moment Amy was in her seat, the music changed. Mattie tiptoed and peered around a corner to watch Orren’s face as Chaz moved, not back down the aisle, but to the best man’s side. Orren crooked a finger at him, but Chaz just gave him an okay sign and grinned.

  Jean Marie began moving down the aisle, her head held high, her expression serene. When she took her place next to the altar, Yancy stepped off. She’d taken Amy’s admonition about smiling to heart and was beaming like a beauty queen contestant. Mattie suppressed the urge to giggle. Yancy took her place beside her sister, and it was then that Candy Sue turned, cupped a hand around her mouth and whispered loud enough to cause titters among the guests, “Now?”

  Mattie nodded and whispered back, “Yes, now.”

  “Okay!”

  Candy Sue turned, waved at her daddy and began progressing down the aisle, step by careful step, dropping one flower petal with each movement. Mattie found it utterly charming. Then suddenly butterflies were beating their wings in her stomach. Gulping, she took a deep, deep breath and closed her eyes. In mere seconds the organist struck up the wedding march. Mattie felt an instant of sheer panic, but then her father stepped to her side and wound her arm through his. The world and all it held fell into peaceful harmony. Smiling, Mattie opened her eyes.

  “Are you sure, sweetheart?”

  Mattie tightened her arm around his and took a firmer grip on her bouquet. “Completely sure.”

  Evans nodded and together they stepped into the wide doorway. Mattie’s gaze went instantly to Orren’s. She felt his shock and then his grateful pride. He adjusted his stance, shoulders squared, hands clasped, and lifted his chin. Every step of the way of that long, slow walk, he told her with his eyes how beautiful she was, how much he loved her and how happy she had made him.

  When at last they drew near the altar, Evans drew a deep breath and lifted her hand from his arm. Orren extended his own hand, palm up, and Evans slowly but firmly placed Mattie’s in it. Then, to everyone’s surprise, Orren stepped forward and swung his free arm around Evans’s shoulders in an embrace. Mattie would always remember it as the moment Evans Kincaid realized that he had not only a daughter but now also a son.

  “Thank you,” Orren said softly. “I promise I’ll take as good care of her as she takes of me.”

  Evans’s voice sounded a bit strangled, but his words carried clearly to all those present. “If you do that, then she’ll be happy and well indeed.”

  They gripped each other’s shoulders for a moment, and then Orren turned with Mattie to face the reverend in his formal robes, his smile wide and easy. Bolton paused for Evans to seat himself at Amy’s side. Candy Sue’s whisper rasped throughout the church.

  “That’s our gran’pa!”

  Laughter hovered in the air. Bolton Charles bit his lip, lifted his eyebrows and winked at Mattie, who could only imagine her father’s reaction. Amy would confirm later that he’d looked rather as if he’d been poleaxed. But by lunch he would embrace this new role with the same meticulous sense of responsibility with which he did everything. And Mattie, Orren at her side, their children around them, had at last found her own.

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-3890-3

  FALLING FOR A FATHER OF FOUR

  Copyright © 1998 by Deborah A. Rather

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office, Silhouette Books, 233 Broadway, New York, NY 10279 U.S.A.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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