Christmas at Home

by Carolyn Brown

  * * *

  Sage bent her knees so she could see her reflection in the mirror above the vanity in the bathroom of the church. She’d dressed at Canyon Rose, where she spent the night before with April. Grand had declared that they’d follow tradition even if they didn’t have time to plan a big wedding. The groom wasn’t to see the bride on the day of the wedding and nothing was going to change her mind.

  The woman looking back at Sage looked happy, but was it for real? Was she really, really getting married just three weeks after meeting Creed?

  He’d proposed and she’d said yes without even thinking about things. Then Grand and Aunt Essie came home from the cemetery and everything went into high gear.

  “When is the wedding?” Grand had asked.

  “We thought we’d go over to the courthouse this afternoon or maybe sometime next week,” Sage had answered.

  But that wouldn’t do. No, sir! If they were getting married that quickly then they could do it on Sunday before Grand and Essie flew out. Sage had argued that it couldn’t be arranged in that length of time.

  “What are you thinking about?” April asked.

  “How tiny this bathroom is.”

  “You don’t lie too good, Sage. You’re worried that you are going too fast and that you’ll have regrets later. If you wanted a big wedding with all the trimmings you should have put your foot down,” April said.

  “I didn’t even want this much. I wanted to go to the courthouse.”

  “Not me. I want the whole ten yards. That’s even more than the nine yards thing. I’m having the big white dress with a train that reaches from the top of the stairs all the way to the bottom and a reception out on the ranch lawn after the wedding in the ballroom.”

  “I just wanted to dash into the courthouse and come out married, but Grand wanted something else and I let her have her way.” Sage straightened up.

  “Well God bless Grand! I’d rather be a bridesmaid and flirt with Creed’s handsome brothers than yawn through a sermon today.”

  Sage looked at the clock above the vanity. “Five minutes.”

  “Nervous?” April asked.

  “You’ll never know.”

  * * *

  The preacher nodded at his wife who played the piano that morning and her fingers went to the keys. Creed and his brother marched down the center aisle and took their places at the front of the church.

  Creed could hardly believe that a wedding could be arranged in forty-eight hours, but then he’d never known anyone like Ada, Essie, and Hilda. Ada had sent him and Sage to the courthouse on Friday afternoon to purchase a marriage license. And she’d given them strict orders that if they came home already married she’d never come back to the canyon to visit them again.

  On the way back home, he’d called his brother Ace and asked him if he could drop everything and be his best man for the wedding. Evidently the ball got to rolling pretty fast in Ringgold too, because more than half of one side of the church was filled with his family and friends. They had arrived late the previous evening, checked into a hotel in Amarillo, and then come straight to the Rockin’ C.

  Women gathered around Sage, and surprisingly enough, she didn’t let his mother or any of them intimidate her. And the ranchers wanted a tour of his new ranch. Now they were all in their Sunday best, supporting him on his wedding day.

  * * *

  “I hear the music,” April said.

  “What do they really think of me? Do they think I married him so I could keep the ranch?” she whispered.

  “Honey, a blind man could see how much Creed loves you. And his sisters-in-law and mother were very nice.”

  Ada pushed inside the tiny bathroom. “Your momma would have loved this day, and she would have really liked the idea that you are wearing her wedding dress.”

  “See you at the front.” April slipped out the door before Ada asked her any questions.

  “It doesn’t look too old hippie does it?” Sage laughed.

  “It was beautiful on her and it’s even more beautiful on you. I don’t think she would have even minded that you cut it off. There’s our cue and I hear people standing up. It’s our turn.” Ada grabbed her granddaughter’s hand and together they stepped out of the bathroom.

  Sage’s dress had been white when her mother had worn it but it hadn’t been stored in one of those nonyellowing containers so the satin was a rich ecru color. However, the illusion covering the satin and billowing out from the skirt that ended right above her knee was still snowy white. The scoop-neck bodice was covered in white beads and sequins that had also escaped the aging process. Long fitted sleeves ended in points and had one dozen buttons each on the underside of her hand. The dress had fit her just fine but her mother had been six inches shorter than Sage so the hemline had stopped at midcalf. Hilda had spent Saturday afternoon cutting it off and hemming it for her.

  They hadn’t had time to think about flowers or bouquets but somehow Grand and Essie had made a trip to Claude and picked up two potted plants at the grocery store. A bouquet of poinsettias tied up with red satin ribbons lay on Sage’s left arm, and April had carried a nosegay of tiny rosebuds. Both had been arranged by Creed’s mother, Dolly, in between supervising baking a wedding cake in Hilda’s kitchen.

  Sage had bought a brand-new pair of white cowboy boots for her gallery showing in Denver, so she opted to wear them. Grand had wanted her to wear the veil that went with the dress but she’d drawn the line there. She had styled her dark hair high on her head and fastened a sprig of the mistletoe from the kitchen window into one side. Another piece had gone into making the boutonnieres that Creed and Ace had pinned to their black Western-cut jackets.

  “Grand, I’m nervous,” she whispered when they were going down the aisle.

  “Don’t be. Just look at Creed and forget all these people.”

  Sage looked down the aisle and caught Creed’s gaze. And nothing else mattered. She was getting married. She was going to have a family and live on the Rockin’ C until she and Creed were both too old to play games on that credenza.

  He smiled as if he could read her thoughts and she blushed.

  * * *

  Creed pinched his leg and it hurt like hell, so he wasn’t dreaming. That really was Sage coming toward him and she wasn’t wearing his red and black plaid flannel shirt like she’d threatened.

  Just looking at her floating down the aisle in that beautiful dress made his mouth so dry that he wasn’t sure he’d be able to utter his vows. He wanted her to have a wedding to talk about with her sisters-in-law, but he wished they had just gotten married at the courthouse. Right now they could be naked as newborns under a quilt in their bedroom or better yet, playing games on the credenza.

  And that’s when she looked up at him. He smiled because there was no doubt from the pink in her cheeks that she was thinking the same thing.

  * * *

  “Who gives this woman to be married to this man?” the preacher asked when Sage and Ada reached the front of church.

  “I give Sage into Creed’s hands.” Ada lifted her granddaughter’s hand and gave it to Creed. “Love her. Respect her. Or you’ll deal with me,” she whispered.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said seriously.

  “You may be seated,” the preacher told the congregation.

  “You are so beautiful,” Creed whispered. “I’m glad you decided not to wear my flannel shirt.”

  “Honey, that is reserved for the honeymoon, right along with that lovely quilt Grand and Aunt Essie made,” she whispered back.

  “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to witness the union of Creed Davis Riley and Elizabeth Sage Presley,” the preacher began the traditional ceremony.

  In one sense the ceremony lasted an hour and in another it was over in less than a minute. Time stood still for Sage. She heard the words but wha
t she felt was the true uniting of her heart and Creed’s. Two soul mates that had been floundering around for years were bonding and no one else even felt it.

  She exchanged vows, put a ring on Creed’s finger, and he put one on hers and then the preacher pronounced them man and wife. It was time for their first kiss as husband and wife. When his lips touched hers they promised her the moon, the stars, and everything in between.

  “And now I present to you Mr. and Mrs. Creed Riley. They, along with their families and friends, invite all of you to a reception at the Canyon Rose. I hear Hilda made the cake and also the buffalo wings, so me and my wife will be the first in line.”

  * * *

  April insisted on a first dance, so Creed two-stepped his new bride around the floor to an old George Strait song, “I Cross My Heart.” Creed sang softly with the words, telling Sage that his love was unconditional. He promised to give all that he had to give to make all her dreams come true.

  “I do, Sage Presley Riley.” He stopped singing and looked at her.

  “And I do, Creed Riley. I promise to give all I have to give to make your dreams come true too.”

  “I don’t want you to ever stop painting,” he said. “Come spring, I’m planning to hire one full-time cowboy and when summer comes, maybe a part-time teenager to help us on the ranch. You’ll always have time to paint.”

  “I couldn’t stop painting if I wanted to, Creed. It’s part of me.”

  “And I love every single thing that makes you who you are. I wouldn’t change a single thing about you, darlin’.”

  Before the song ended, Creed’s dad tapped him on the shoulder and took his place with Sage, and Creed’s mother slipped into her son’s arms.

  “Welcome to the Riley clan, Sage,” Adam said. “I’m glad to see the light back in Creed’s eyes and we all thank you for putting it there. We hate to see him live this far from the rest of us but we’re so happy for you both.”

  “You’re invited to visit us anytime. The door is always open. We’ll be starting a new home soon and we’re making it big enough for lots of company.”

  “We’ll take you up on that,” Adam said.

  The song ended and Lawton tapped a knife against the side of a glass and welcomed everyone to Canyon Rose. “I’m kind of sorry to see Ada sell the Rockin’ C to this feller. I wanted to hire him as my new foreman but I’m glad to have him for a neighbor. Raise your drink in a toast to our new couple in the Palo Duro Canyon.”

  “My turn.” Ace stepped up beside Lawton.

  He sure didn’t look like he belonged in the Riley family. All of Creed’s other brothers had dark hair and shades of brown eyes, but Ace had blond hair and the prettiest blue eyes. Creed said he got it from Grandpa Riley. Sage thought it would be wonderful if her bit of Irish and Creed’s produced a little blond-haired boy with blue eyes.

  “Welcome to our family, Sage. We’re glad to have you. I could tell you stories about my brother that would make you tear up that marriage license, but I’ll wait until you are married a year.”

  Everyone laughed and had another sip of their drink.

  Creed slipped his arm around his wife’s waist. “Darlin’, don’t pay no attention to him. He won’t tell a single thing because I know too much on him.”

  “Oh?” Jasmine, Ace’s wife, asked. “Maybe you should be talking to me.”

  “Not a chance.” Creed laughed.

  “Hilda says we’re cutting the cake now,” Lawton said.

  She pushed a three-tiered cake on a wooden cart from the kitchen. Mistletoe with streaming red ribbons rested on the top and around the base. “Y’all didn’t give me time to go rustle up a bride and groom for the top.”

  Creed laid his hand on top of Sage’s as she cut the first piece of cake. “I like the mistletoe better anyway.”

  “Fits us, doesn’t it?”

  * * *

  Later that night, Creed carried Sage over the threshold and stopped right inside the door.

  Both of them noticed the credenza at the same time.

  An envelope the size of a greeting card was propped up in front of the nativity scene.

  He set her down and she tore into the envelope. “It’s from Grand. She says this piece of furniture is our wedding present from her and that when she comes back, it’s the only piece of furniture that had better be missing from this house.”

  Creed chuckled and picked her up, carried her to her bedroom, and set her on the bed. “I love you, Mrs. Riley.”

  “I love you. Kiss me again and let’s start a honeymoon that will last the rest of our lives.” She unpinned the mistletoe boutonniere from his lapel and laid it on the nightstand.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he drawled.

  Keep reading for an excerpt from Carolyn Brown’s

  Honky Tonk Christmas

  Chapter 1

  The whirring of the helicopter blades cut through the hot Iraqi desert wind. It was late summer, and the shamal wind was throwing enough sand around to limit visibility. But she could make out the target in her crosshairs, and the sand kept the choppers from getting a direct bead on her and Jonah. They’d already made four passes. She had sand in her mouth, sand in her boots and in her ears. She’d been trained to ignore everything and take out the target, but that damned buzzing noise reminded her of a bunch of swarming bees—and she hated bees.

  “Keep focused on the target,” she whispered so low that Jonah couldn’t hear the words.

  She set the crosshairs on the terrorist behind the machine gun mounted on the hood of a military jeep. She’d never missed yet and didn’t want to spoil her record.

  “Convoy is less than a mile from the ambush,” her commander’s voice said on the radio. “Fire when ready.”

  “Yes, sir,” she said. “Adjustments, Jonah?”

  Her spotter ran his finger down a column of numbers and called out the wind velocity. She made adjustments in the blistering heat. She took a deep breath and blinked twice for good luck. If she took out the ambush, the convoy took her friends back to base. If she didn’t, there’d be widows and orphans crying that night in the States.

  Sweat trickled down between her breasts to puddle at the bottom of her bra where a sand trap waited. Evidently God knew what he was doing when he gave breasts to women and not men. Boy soldiers wouldn’t last ten minutes out in the heat with bras biting their ribs and shoulders. They’d scratch and fidget until the enemy blew their weak little asses all over the sand. She wiped moisture from her brow, inhaled, and blinked twice again for good luck. Then she pulled the trigger and the target dropped graveyard dead.

  “Mission complete. Convoy can proceed. Send in rescue,” she said.

  Gunfire started and the sand kicked up all around her. She looked over at Jonah to tell him to keep his head down and get ready to run when their rescue team lit. His chin rested on his chest, and blood was everywhere.

  “Jonah’s down!” she screamed into the radio. “Send me some help now. Jonah is shot.”

  * * *

  “Hello, anybody home?” a deep Texas drawl yelled, and light from the open door filled the Honky Tonk.

  She jerked her head up and scanned the area. It was dark and cool. Where had the desert gone? Where was her rifle and why was she wearing cowboy boots? She looked to her right and Jonah Black was gone. She drew her eyebrows down. He’d been there the last time she blinked. Then the past faded into the dark corners of the beer joint and the present brought a cowboy across the hardwood dance floor.

  “Back here.” Her voice was hoarse and her mouth dry. She’d fallen asleep on the table when she sat down for a rest. Her arms tingled as the feeling returned, and her heart pounded. It was the same thing every time she went to sleep. Recurring dreams of Iraq, of the job that women did not do and were not trained to do in the army. But Sharlene had done the job, and when she was discharged, sh
e’d brought it home with her in the form of nightmares.

  The sound of cowboy bootheels on the hardwood floor coming toward her sounded like gunfire. She covered her ears and shook her head. She needed another second or two to bury the visions and pull herself away from the sight of Jonah and his dark-brown dead eyes.

  “I’m looking for Sharlene Waverly. I was supposed to meet her here at one o’clock.” The Texas voice grew closer.

  She stood up and extended her hand. “I’m Sharlene. You must be Holt Jackson. Have a seat. Can I get you a beer?”

  Holt’s big hand swallowed hers. He noticed that her hand trembled when he shook it.

  “No, I’m fine. You are Sharlene Waverly?” He frowned as he let go of her hand.

  She had kinky red hair and green eyes. She didn’t look old enough to work behind the bar, much less own one. She barely came to his shoulder and would have to produce an ID to get out of a convenience store with a six-pack.

  “Yes, I am. Sit and we’ll talk.” She motioned toward the table with four chairs around it and an empty beer bottle on the top. “I was just about to start cleaning up the place from last night’s business. I fell asleep with my arms under my head and they’re still tingling.” She shook her arms to restore feeling.

  He pulled out a chair and sat across the table from her. He was tall with thick, dark hair that tickled his shirt collar. His mossy-green eyes scanned the beer joint, finally coming to rest on her.

  “So where do you want to build an addition to this place?”

  She pointed toward the north end of the Honky Tonk. “I want to knock out half of that wall and make a room as big as the original Honky Tonk. I’ll put the pool tables and jukeboxes back there, and that will leave more room in here for a bigger dance floor. Hardwood floors, paneling on the walls. The good stuff, not that stuff that looks as cheap as it is.”

  “Why not go to the south?” he asked.

  “Because I’m barely over the county line as it is. Erath County is dry. Palo Pinto is wet. If I get over into Erath County, I couldn’t have a beer joint,” she explained.