She let out a long wistful sigh. “I’ve missed you so much, Miles. I thought I had to sacrifice us for Evan—and maybe even for Perrie Lynn.”
This time he pressed his lips to her forehead and pulled her closer. “We’re standing here in one of your favorite spots in the world, gazing at the moon shining on the magical lake in the town you love best. So, what better place to make it official. Marry me, Lark. Say yes.”
She tightened her arms around him and rested her head against his chest.
He waited, determined not to interrupt her thoughts. Time, he reasoned, was on his side.
She lifted her head off his chest and tilted it back, so she could look him in the eye. “How about this for an answer, yes...and no.”
His loud scoff escaped before he had a chance to think. “Hmm...not exactly the response I was hoping for, but I’ll hear you out.”
“The answer really is eventually. But we have kids and another child who might want to meet us only once or twice to satisfy her curiosity. Then she could say goodbye and go back to her regular life and never care to see us again. Surely you know that. We fell in love because this special young woman brought us together again. But what if she goes away?”
Miles stepped back and held both her hands in his. “That’s the chance we have to take. But if we’re together, we’ll adjust to whatever happens.”
Turning away from the lake, she took his arm again and started walking across the park toward the cottage. In a voice full of fun, she said, “So if our life is going to start now, we might as well celebrate with a glass of wine.”
“Ah, I like the way you think,” he said. “Brooke will be so excited about gaining a brother in this family we’re putting together. She’s still young enough not to ask too many questions.”
“You’re right,” Lark said. “I’m glad Evan knows the story and is interested in meeting his older sister. He’ll enjoy meeting Brooke, too.”
Miles stopped and drew Lark into a tight embrace. “Whatever happens, you and I have a daughter. She’s why we found each other again, Lark. That’s the magic between us.”
Lark nodded and he tightened his embrace, ready for whatever happened next.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
THE WHITE FRAME house with its yellow trim and wraparound porch was exactly as it appeared in the photographs Perrie Lynn had sent. Their phone conversations had dispensed with what Lark called the preliminaries, including family photos. She’d had the joy of congratulating Perrie Lynn on her successes, but equally valued the chance to express her sorrow over Maxine’s death. Although her talks with Perrie Lynn were awkward at first, once Miles told her they’d recently become engaged and were in the midst of planning a small autumn wedding, Perrie Lynn’s interest rose.
Still sitting in the passenger seat of Miles’s car, Lark closed her eyes for just a second, in a vain attempt to quiet the thumping in her chest.
“There she is,” Brooke said, pointing to the porch. “Just like Mr. Olson said, huh, Daddy?”
True. In an earlier text, Eric wrote they’d be waiting outside for them on the porch, and there they were.
“Let’s go, let’s go.” Brooke’s excited voice drew a laugh from Evan.
“Just a second, Brooke.” Miles squeezed Lark’s hand and whispered, “You go ahead. We’ll follow close behind.”
Grinning at the two kids in the backseat, Lark opened the passenger door and stepped out of the car and onto the grass in the front yard. She kept her eyes on Perrie Lynn, who moved to the top of the stairs as Lark began walking toward the house. Perrie Lynn’s long dark hair hung loose down her back, and the skirt of her gauzy white sundress billowed in the breeze.
Lark smiled at the sight as she held down the deep purple skirt of her own dress in the gusty air. Perrie Lynn seemed to giggle in response as she started down the stairs.
Lark raised a hand to wave to Eric, who’d stood but stayed behind on the porch. Looking behind her, she saw that Miles and the kids were lined up by the car. Miles had one hand on Brooke’s shoulder, holding her back. Evan’s face was a study in curiosity.
Fixing her gaze on Perrie Lynn, Lark sensed the next moments could either be stilted or as natural as the August breeze that had ruffled their skirts.
As Perrie Lynn approached, her grin widened, and Lark recognized herself in the young woman’s face. Exactly what Miles had said all along. Choosing to take a chance on the simple grace of the moment, Lark stood still and slowly opened her arms.
The hesitation lasted only a second, maybe even less, before Perrie Lynn stepped into her arms. They drew each other close until they were cheek to cheek. The hug lasted only seconds, but Lark understood. She let one hand slide slowly down Perrie Lynn’s arm as she stepped back.
Lark spoke in a whisper. “You’re as lovely as your pictures.”
Perrie Lynn smiled shyly. “I’m glad you came.”
“I promise I’ll answer every question you ask,” she said. “We’ll have all the time we need, Perrie Lynn.”
Perrie Lynn nodded but lowered her gaze to Lark’s hand. “Is that your ring from Miles?” She grinned at Lark, but then glanced quickly at Miles in the distance. Amused that the ring would become a focal point, Lark held out her hand so Perrie Lynn could examine the opal and tourmaline stones set in silver. “They’re my October birthstones. Miles had it specially made.” She leaned a little closer. “Once I said yes.”
Perrie Lynn laughed, but then her gaze shifted to Brooke and Evan.
Lark turned to face Miles and the kids. “There’s a little girl who is jumping out of her skin waiting to meet you. Your biggest fan. And Evan, also a huge fan, is brimming with curiosity. You’ll see for yourself.”
Lark led the way toward Miles and the two kids, who began walking toward them. Finally, Miles let go of Brooke’s shoulder and whispered something to Evan, who looked every day of his thirteen years. Miles let Brooke jump and skip the rest of the way to Perrie Lynn. Lark pivoted to face the house and greet Eric as he came down the stairs to join the group.
Watching Miles lean forward to hug Perrie Lynn, Lark felt her heart overflow with the happiness she’d lost faith in only a few months before.
Miles stepped back and let Brooke stand completely enchanted in front of Perrie Lynn. Brooke grabbed Evan’s hand and said, “Evan is going to be our brother, Perrie Lynn.”
“So I’ve heard,” Perrie Lynn said. She glanced at Lark, her eyes sparkling in amusement. “I never knew I’d have a brother and a sister one day.”
Lark glanced at Miles, who caught her eye and mouthed, Love you.
She mouthed the same words back. Along with Eric, Lark closed their circle of six, three adults and three young people, linked for the moment by all their complicated connections. And one day, Lark knew, they’d be united by love.
* * * * *
If you enjoyed this debut romance from Virginia McCullough, watch for her upcoming books and check out these titles by fellow Harlequin Heartwarming authors: RESCUED BY MR. WRONG by Cynthia Thomason and THE WEDDING MARCH by Tara Randel. Available at www.Harlequin.com
Keep reading for an excerpt from THE RUNAWAY BRIDE by Patricia Johns.
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The Runaway Bride
by Patricia Johns
CHAPTER ONE
BERNADETTE “BUNNY” MORGAN could hear the murmur of voices from the Manhattan cathedral where her family and friends already waited. Ten minutes from now, she’d be walking down that aisle on her father’s arm to the traditional wedding march. She’d imagined this moment a thousand times since they’d booked the cathedral two years ago. Weddings of this caliber didn’t come together in a heartbeat. Everything from the choice of the groom to the color of the scented beads in the dressing rooms took careful planning.
Each element of this wedding was traditional. It had to be perfect, as her mother so kindly pointed out, since the media would be picking it apart. This wedding would be on all the society pages and blogs...but her mother, Kitty, had taken care of most of those details for her from the flowers adorning the church to the Rolls-Royce they would drive away in. Her father had been less inclined to hand over his antique Rolls, but what Kitty wanted, Kitty got. And Kitty demanded perfection for her daughter’s wedding.
Thankfully.
Bernadette loved that car, and she liked the idea of driving off with Calvin toward the Four Seasons Hotel, their security entourage flanking them. It would be the first glorious foray of Mr. and Mrs. Calvin McMann.
“We want them to think of the Kennedys when you drive off,” her mother had told her. “Regal. American royalty. We might not be there yet, but we can put a picture in their minds. I want them to think Jackie Kennedy. So remember, sweet, demure and classic. Always classic!”
Bernadette twisted her engagement ring on her finger—a princess-cut diamond in a cloud of smaller stones, all set in platinum. It was beautiful, eye-catching and fabric-catching, too. She tugged it free of her gauzy skirt, wincing as she noticed the tiny snag.
Calvin was just down the hall. They’d agreed to have a few moments of private contemplation before the wedding began to calm their nerves, but Bernadette was regretting that now. Her stomach flipped as she paused to look in the mirror one last time. The face that stared back at her, framed in glossy dark waves, looked ashen.
What would Calvin be doing with his “contemplation” time? Practicing his golf swing, no doubt. Calvin McMann was unflappable. Tall, chiseled, tanned—he was perfection in a suit, and whenever she felt doubts nagging, all she had to do was look at him, and she’d remember their carefully orchestrated plans for a successful life together. Calvin McMann was a senator, and the position had settled a certain comfortable confidence onto his shoulders. What she needed right now was to see her fiancé—have him give one of those trademark winks that made him so electable.
“Sweet, demure, classic,” she reminded herself aloud.
Kitty would kill her if she snuck into Calvin’s dressing room. Brides stayed put until they went down the aisle... And heaven help the bride who let her groom see the dress a second too early.
This was stupid! Who really cared if Calvin saw her dress? That was superstition, and this marriage wouldn’t be built on something so flimsy. They were a political team, a financial powerhouse. Love on these levels was 80 percent choice, and she’d made the right one in Calvin McMann...hadn’t she?
Her stomach twisted again. Logically, marrying Calvin made sense. She knew that, but...
Bernadette eased open the door and peeked into the hallway. No one. The bridesmaids were with the photographer out in the church foyer—she could hear the photographer’s instructions. Her mother’s voice could be heard over his, telling Courtney, Bernadette’s maid of honor, to stop “standing there like a common tart,” whatever that meant.
Bernadette’s dress rustled when she moved, so she gathered it in her arms and crept down the hallway toward the room Calvin was using. She’d have knocked if she weren’t afraid of drawing everyone’s attention, so she turned the handle as silently as possible and peeked inside.
It took a moment to make sense of what she saw. She’d been expecting to see Calvin standing alone, fiddling with cuff links or something. Instead, it was a mess of black suit and pink tulle. There was a flash of tanned skin, a swath of blond hair... There were some grunts, a sigh, then she made out Calvin’s tanned hand moving up a white thigh. And suddenly, the whole scene came into focus.
Vivid, ugly focus.
She didn’t feel rage, just numbing shock, and then the sickening sensation that she might vomit. And she saw the truth as clear as day: this was what her married life would look like—a handsome groom satisfying his carnal desires with another woman in the next room.
Bernadette recognized the woman in her fiancé’s arms—it was Calvin’s ex-girlfriend, who was supposed to be in the distant past, or so he claimed. Would Kimberly be a fixture in their marriage, or was this going to be a revolving door? One thing would be expected: she, the dutiful wife, would have to stand there with the grace and dignity of Jackie Kennedy, taking it.
No. That was the first word to pop into her mind as the shock began to fade. No!
She paused for a moment, waiting for hysterics to set in, but they didn’t. She didn’t feel frightened or panicked. She didn’t feel uncontrollable fury. A strange, eerie calm settled over her, and she eased the door shut once more, gathered up her skirts and crept down the back stairs.
“Bunny?” Lanie was one of the junior bridesmaids and one of her second cousins. She stood by the back door, a cigarette in one hand, apparently sneaking a quick smoke before the ceremony began. Bernadette hated that stupid nickname. Her parents had set her up for a lifetime of country clubs and golf courses with that name.
“Hi, sweetie,” Bernadette crooned. “I’m just going to get something from the car.” She put her fingers to her lips in an exaggerated display of secrecy, and her young cousin giggled.
“I’ll hold the door!” Lanie whispered after her.
The car was parked close to the church, ready for their big exit, and Bernadette fished around in her little satin bag for the car key, and pulled it out. Her father might have handpicked her groom, but he wouldn’t trust Calvin with the keys to his favorite car until the vows were final.
She popped the trunk, and looked down at the two suitcases. One was hers, packed with such attention to detail over the past few days, and the other Calvin’s.
“Miss Morgan?” It was the security guard, and he looked suddenly disconcerted. “Or should I say Mrs. McMann?”
He apparently didn’t know if the wedding had happened yet.
“Bunny is fine.” She shot him a reassuring smile, then she paused. “Actually, no. I hate that name. Call me Bernie.”
“Yes, ma’am. Can I help you with anything... Bernie?”
“Yes!” She smiled brilliantly and hauled Calvin’s suitcase out of the trunk. “
Be a doll and hold this for me, would you?”
The young man stepped forward and took the proffered suitcase, then she slammed the trunk shut and beelined over to the driver’s side. She let herself in, piling her voluminous skirt into her lap, then slammed the door shut and started the car.
“Ma’am?” The security guard started around the car just as she stepped on the gas. “Wait! Miss Morgan! I mean—”
She didn’t hear the rest of what he said, because she was driving at full speed toward the security checkpoint. Uniformed guards scattered like bowling pins as she sailed through and took a squealing turn onto the Manhattan street, narrowly missing a yellow cab. The driver leaned out his window and let out a string of curses that faded away as she accelerated.
She had no idea where she was going—just away. Far away! She’d think this through later. She might have the classic, dark-haired beauty, and she might come from wealth, but she was no Jackie Kennedy.
* * *
LIAM WILSON WIPED his greasy hands on a cloth and tossed it onto his workbench next to the pickup he was working on. It needed another part, and he’d have to order it in. The front garage door was rolled up, allowing a breeze to move through, but the air was still thick with heat. June had warmed up fast, and they looked like they were in for a drought after a winter of not enough snow and a spring with too little rain. That was bad news for surrounding farmers and ranchers, and it would affect everyone. If only the bad news had stopped with the weather.
Liam was trying to keep things “normal” at Runt River Auto—he still had vehicles to fix, after all—but last month normal had taken a backseat when a two-year-old boy with big brown eyes and a mop of dark curls had been delivered to his home by a police cruiser. The officers had said his name was Ike Wilson; the little guy wouldn’t answer any questions. With eyes welling with tears, the boy had simply whispered, “I want Mommy.”
Girl in the Spotlight Page 23
