by Lori Whitwam
Abby couldn’t resist the urge to tease him a little. “You always yell at people in the middle of the street?”
“No, you sort of caught me by surprise,” he said with a smile. “And Cujo paid the price. But you’re worth it.”
If she was more precious to him than a 1997 Taylor Cujo, she was one lucky girl. She had to smile at the notion. “I like you better than the antique table that used to be in my guest room too, so I guess we’re even.”
“No, not yet.” He drew a slow, deep breath and looked into her eyes. “I want you to know, without a doubt, you’re not wrong to trust me. I’ll always be here, and I love you more than I ever thought I could love anybody.”
Abby was about to reply when he reached into his pocket. When he withdrew his hand, he kept it closed and rested his loose fist on his thigh.
“I don’t want to pressure you to make another big decision, but I do want to show you how much you mean to me.” He opened his hand to reveal a ring, its round diamond nestled in a bezel setting. Small emeralds decorated the band on either side of the central stone.
Abby’s heart stopped beating for a few seconds, and then began racing. She looked up from the ring to find him watching her anxiously. “Seth, it’s beautiful. But when did you have time to even think of a ring?”
“Tuesday, while you were talking to Sammy at the Shamrock, before we went to the farm. When I went back to talk to Joey, I asked him if I could have something shipped to his room at the motel. I called Mom to see if we could have the ring.” He ran his thumb over the ring’s gleaming white gold band. “It was my grandmother’s.”
An invisible fist squeezed the breath from her lungs. He was giving her his grandmother’s ring. “You don’t have to give me a ring for me to know I can trust you to be here.”
“I know. It’s not just that. This is what I want too, more than I’ve ever wanted anything. It might be wrong to ask you to take another huge step with me so soon, but you already know time isn’t a factor for me when I know something’s right. If it’s too much…” He began to close his fingers around the ring.
She put her hand over his. “It’s not too much. And it’s not a hard decision. It’s the easiest thing in the world.”
A smile spread across Seth’s face. “You think being married to me will be easy?”
Married. Wow. “Probably not easy, but it’ll always be an adventure.”
He slipped the ring on her finger and held her hand open on his palm. She looked at it in wonder. It even fit.
His kiss was achingly tender, yet it still managed to warm her in all the right places. “I guess this means your mom and Joey approve, at least.”
“Of course they do. Marsh knew too, and I was sweating all week he’d let something slip. Especially after he drank his weight in beer last night.” He lifted her hand to take another look at the ring. “You probably don’t have any ideas yet, but we’ll have to talk about when and where. It won’t be a surprise I’m not a long engagement kind of guy, though.”
“My thoughts exactly. As long as I can have Mom, Molly, and a few other people there, I don’t care about the rest.” She’d marry him right now if she could.
Abby had something to give Seth too. She was supposed to wait, but now the timing seemed ideal. “Come back up to the house. I have something for you.”
Inside, she went to the suitcase still sitting by the side door and withdrew a blue package a little larger than a hardback book. She directed Seth to the couch and handed it to him.
“When did you have time to go shopping?” he asked. “I don’t think you’ve been out of my sight for more than ten minutes at a time, and I know you didn’t go to town without me.” He picked at the tape. It was wrapped in several layers, in order to protect it in her suitcase.
“It’s not really from me. It’s from Marshall and Joey, and it was supposed to be a housewarming gift, whenever we decide on a house. But I don’t think they’ll mind.”
The last of the paper fell away, and Seth held a wooden plaque in his hands. Mounted on the plaque was a six-inch section of the beautifully inlaid neck of the guitar formerly known as Cujo. The piece had the image of a dog, the character from Stephen King’s book and movie. The top and bottom edges were irregular, but had been smoothed. Seth looked at it, his smile spreading to a grin, and finally he couldn’t hold back the laughter. “How the hell did they manage this?”
Abby snuggled up to his side, one hand on his shoulder. “Do you think Marsh could just toss Cujo in the trash? He worships guitars. He saved this piece, figuring he’d do something with it someday.” Knowing Marshall, he’d probably planned to leave it on Seth’s pillow some night, a la The Godfather. “But after everything started happening, he had an idea and took it to the craft store in town. They made it for him.”
Seth turned his attention from the symbolic piece of his beloved guitar to the rectangular brass plate below it. Abby watched him as he read. “In memory of Cujo, who gave his life for Seth and Abby.” It even had the dates of the guitar’s manufacture and destruction. “I can’t believe those guys. It’s just like them. Sincere, meaningful, hilarious, and kind of in the plastic vomit category, all at the same time.”
Abby laughed. Exactly. She rewrapped the plaque and returned it to the suitcase.
Soon they were driving through Emporia, the town she loved. She looked at the ring on her hand, the man beside her and the dog with his silky black ears flapping in the breeze. She rested her hand on Seth’s thigh, marveling again he was hers, and was nearly overwhelmed by a feeling of profound peace. This wasn’t good-bye to Emporia. It was only see you later. She now knew adventure, danger—and even love—would find you when the time was right, no matter where you were. With that knowledge, she was ready to let her life extend beyond her previous boundaries, because home was where you made it. And their home was wherever the road took them.
Epilogue
Abby
Together With Their Families
Abigail Kathleen Delaney
and
Seth David Caldwell
request the pleasure of your company
at the celebration of their marriage
Tuesday, July 18
At Six O’Clock in the Evening
The House of Blues
Music Hall
3950 South Las Vegas Boulevard
Las Vegas, Nevada
Buffet and Beverages to Follow
in the Foundation Room
* * *
Seth
From: Seth Caldwell
To: Undisclosed Recipients
Date: June 3
Subject: We’re Getting Hitched!
Hey, y’all!
You probably heard the news, but I met an amazing woman willing to put up with my shit, and she agreed to marry me and spend half our lives on a bus with a bunch of crazy, rowdy musicians. I know, right?
Abby and her mom got somebody to hand-letter a bunch of fancy invitations for her friends and family, but most of the people I know have no fixed address, and if you do, you’re never there, so e-mail is the way to go.
Here’s the deal. Dead End Road is playing the House of Blues in Las Vegas on July 21, and we decided to blow into town a few days early and do the deed. Big thanks to Enrique at HOB for helping make this possible! I know it’s short notice, but I want to do this quick before she comes to her senses.
So, if you have nothing better to do, or aren’t in jail or something—I’m looking at you, Slade!—we’d like you to come party with us. July 18, House of Blues, in the Music Hall, 6:00 p.m., and don’t be late or I’ll kick your ass.
Food and dancing after in the Foundation Room, so bring your musical instrument of choice. It’s going to be the biggest, wildest jam session Vegas has ever seen! Oh, yeah, one more thing. Open bar till the booze runs out! No need to RSVP. With the open bar, I know you’ll be there if you can.
* * *
Abby
“Will you two give it a rest
? Please?” Abby pleaded as her friends snapped what she estimated to be the millionth photo of her that day.
Molly and Monique grinned and shook their heads.
“You can never have too many pictures of the blushing bride,” Molly said, raising her phone for another shot.
Abby sighed. “This is not a blush. This is an indication of rapidly rising annoyance.”
“Come on, Abby,” Monique said. “You look gorgeous, and years from now when you’re old and decrepit, you’re going to love every one of these pictures.” She and Molly exchanged glances and giggled, and Abby surrendered.
“Smile,” Molly ordered as her phone made the computerized click indicating another moment of Abby’s wedding reception had been recorded for posterity. “I can’t get over how perfect your dress is. Well, your outfit.” Click.
On that point, Abby had to agree. She hadn’t been sure at first, but was now glad she’d gone with her instinct. She wore the vintage crocheted halter top she’d worn the night she met Seth, and her mother’s friend Grace had made a pencil skirt to go with it. Grace had managed to match the snowy white of the top perfectly, and had recreated the tiny violets scattered over the top and arranged them artfully around the bottom of the knee-length skirt. After what had happened at Bainbridge Farm, Abby had wondered if the violets might somehow taint the joyful occasion, but Seth pointed out that they also represented their victory over Andy’s deranged plot, and the delicate purple flowers should now be even more significant than ever. Looking at it that way, Abby decided he was right.
Guests had been encouraged to take as many photos as they liked and upload them to a designated cloud drive, and shots from the wedding ceremony were already playing on a large screen near the bar in a slideshow.
There was Molly, as her maid of honor, in the Music Hall, with Dilbert at her side.
Next was Seth standing at the small stage at the front of the room, wearing black jeans, a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, a dark gray suit vest, and a sapphire blue tie. He was flanked by Marshall and Pete holding their guitars, on which they’d been playing an acoustic rendition of “Make or Break” as she walked down the aisle.
She smiled at the image of Mouse standing center stage, ready to perform the ceremony courtesy of an online ordination obtained the week before.
The pictures continued to play, each one precious. Maybe Mo and Molly were right. When she was old and wrinkly, she’d be glad she had these.
“Oh, wow! That one’s my favorite, I think,” Molly said, clasping her hands under her chin and beaming.
The screen showed the end of the ceremony, right after Mouse had declared them man and wife, and given the all-clear for Seth to kiss his bride. Seth had given her his orneriest grin, pure devilment flashing in his blue eyes. Then he’d swept her off her feet and carried her in his arms straight down the aisle, kissing her the entire time, Dilbert dancing around them.
Arms snaked around her from behind, and lips nuzzled her neck.
“That better be my husband, or things are going to get really interesting around here.”
Seth chuckled, his breath warm against her ear, and he tightened his arms around her. “You’d better believe it, darlin’. I had to put down a huge deposit on this place because I know what some of these guys are capable of, but I don’t think it covers that amount of blood splatter.”
Abby watched Molly and Monique head toward the bar, where her mother was chatting with Seth’s parents, Rebecca and James. She was nursing a glass of wine, a look of tired contentment on her face, and Dilbert at her feet.
Abby turned in Seth’s arms and looked up at him. “I’ll be surprised if there’s not at least one fight.” Seth’s friends were nothing if not boisterous.
Seth plucked a nacho roll from the tray of a server on his way to replenish the Tex-Mex buffet. “Oh, I guarantee it. Slade’s already eyeing up Darren O’Connell, and about two more drinks and he’s gonna give it a go.”
“If they get too out of hand, I’ll just send Mom in. She’ll have them chastised and apologetic in about five seconds.”
“I don’t doubt it. She shut Trent down pretty hard when he was going to take Danny apart for looking at his daughter at the housewarming party.” Seth swallowed the spicy appetizer. “Hey, me and the boys are about to go open up the stage. Try not to miss me too much.”
Abby leaned against his chest. “Okay, I’ll try, but don’t be gone too long.”
He lowered his head to kiss her then said, “I won’t. Besides, I have about fifty guys dying to get up there and rattle the roof, so I’ll be back before you know it.”
She sent him on his way with another kiss and spent the next half hour dancing with what felt like every male guest in attendance—and a few of the female ones. She was glad she’d ditched her shoes behind the bar the second she’d arrived. She was living proof you could take the girl out of the country, but…
Seth turned the stage over to the next bunch of musicians and returned to her side, several shirt buttons undone and tie askew, with Marshall, Joey, and Pete in tow.
Caroline bounced over with Pete’s wife Jackie and threw her arms around Joey. “You guys were awesome!”
Joey gave her a smacking kiss on the cheek. “Thanks, sweetheart. I don’t remember when I’ve had this much fun.”
As if on cue, a server appeared with a tray of shots, and Seth passed them around.
“To music,” Seth said, raising his glass, “the magic that brought us all together.”
“To music,” they all echoed, lifting their glasses in salute, then downing the shots.
“Amen, brother,” Joey added, giving Seth an affectionate punch in the arm.
Abby glanced at the slideshow and noticed it had changed to candid shots from their lives before they’d met. Her photos were of the usual smiling family variety, her second grade picture with the missing front tooth, her high school graduation portrait, and some of her holding print copies of her first book. Seth’s were more…entertaining.
The majority of Seth’s contribution involved him and his band in various unruly and hilarious situations. Abby loved seeing more of this side of his life—not that she hadn’t seen quite a bit already in the last few weeks on the tour bus. She was also grateful to notice someone had taken time to be sure there were no pictures of Stacy Ballantyne in the rotation. The breakup was one thing, but Stacy’s death was still too raw a wound for all of them.
A picture of Seth and Marshall appeared, and Abby slapped a hand over her mouth in surprise. When she collected herself, she said, “Marshall, I forgot you used to have hair!” She’d gotten so used to his shaved head, often covered by a bandanna, that she hadn’t thought about what he’d looked like when she first discovered Dead End Road. Back then, he’d had wavy dark hair almost to his shoulders. “What made you decide to cut it? It was so thick and gorgeous.”
Marshall and Seth exchanged a glance, and when the rhythm guitarist turned to her, she thought his smile looked a little wistful. “That, m’dear, is a story for another day.”
With that reply, Abby reached the logical conclusion. It had to be a woman. She’d get the story out of Seth later.
Two hours, five bands, and two fistfights later, Seth, Abby, Marshall, and Seth’s friend Slade were chatting at the bar. The bartender had given Slade some ice wrapped in a dishtowel to hold to his swollen lip from the previously predicted fight with Darren O’Connell. Darren had left with a broken nose, but no hard feelings. They’d worked out their differences, and both agreed they were now even. Men.
Abby glanced around looking for Caroline and Jackie, but remembered they’d said they planned to slip out and hit the slot machines in the Mandalay Bay casino.
She was about to turn back to the group when a woman standing in the doorway to her right caught her eye. The petite blonde wore white slacks and a sleeveless sapphire silk blouse. She looked first toward the small stage the band was using and to the dancefloor immediately in fro
nt of it, clearly searching for someone. As she turned her head, Abby saw her sleek hair was cut in a stylish bob, shorter in back and long around her face.
She elbowed Seth to get his attention. “Hey, who’s that?” She thought she’d been introduced to nearly everyone on the guest list, but she was sure she hadn’t seen this pretty face before.
Seth glanced to where Abby indicated. His eyes widened, and he immediately turned to Marshall, who was standing, frozen, looking at the woman as the color drained from his face. His jaw clenched several times before he forced out two words.
“Oh, shit.”
* * *
Seth
This was not good. Seth edged toward Marshall, whether to hold him up if he started to faint, or grab him if he tried to run, he wasn’t sure. And if he did run, Seth wasn’t sure if he’d run toward the woman or away.
“Marsh, you okay?” he asked, keeping his voice as casual as possible.
Marshall reached toward his head before remembering his bandanna was not currently there. It was his habit to remove it and wipe it over his face when he was nervous or stalling. “Um, yeah,” he started, but just then the woman’s gaze encountered their group and locked on Marshall. He swallowed then took a slow, deep breath. “Maybe. I’ll let you know.”
Seth caught Abby’s questioning look. “Know how you asked earlier what made Marsh decide to cut his hair?”
Thought lines appeared between Abby’s brows. “Yeah?”
Seth nodded at the woman now making her way toward them, never once taking her eyes off Marshall. “That’s why.”
Abby’s mouth opened slightly in surprise as Marshall mumbled “’Scuse me, guys,” and started toward the approaching blonde.
Seth briefly considered grabbing his friend’s arm and dragging him out the fire exit. He remembered all too well the train wreck they’d witnessed four years ago, but he realized Marshall had to work through this on his own, for better or worse. If it turned out to be “worse,” he and the rest of the guys would be there to help him pick up the pieces. Again.
