With This Click, I Thee Wed (Click and Wed.com Series, #1)

by Bonnie R. Paulson

  When I thought “international airport”, large terminals that you could see for miles and tarmac that claimed more acreage than a bison farm usually came to mind. Airports like LAX or Heathrow, with their mazes of crisscrossing terminals and subway systems to get to the varying gates along with their small cities inside, were more in sync with the term.

  The small Spokane airport didn't seem to have more than two terminals. Maybe three and I just couldn’t see the third one because of the way it was set up. Maybe they hid fifteen more terminals in the back-parking lot.

  Either way, as I walked off the plane, a humid chill wrapped around me and I could’ve been at home with the distinct similarity to the climate. Nothing was different from home. A looming noose seemed to tighten around my neck at the claustrophobic sensation that I was still in Ohio. The ground was covered in snow and a thick fog guarded the land from the sun.

  Out of my depth, I couldn’t help the thoughts that I had made the wrong choice. I should’ve just forfeited the two grand instead of spending another eight hundred on plane tickets and whatever a car rental or taxi were going to cost me.

  Thinking like that wasn’t going to get me anywhere but depressed. I had to stop. I was a burden and unwelcome at my parents’ house, even though it was familiar and safe. Rent there was non-existent, unless you counted the rudeness from my dad and apathy from my mom. The point was, I hadn’t paid all that money to live at their house, but I had paid a lot of money to go on an adventure and I was going to do just that.

  If they had a survey of some sort at the end of the match-making quiz, I would have suggested that the ClickandWed.com service should’ve let me talk to my husband at some point. I hadn’t been given any information on him regarding a phone number or email address.

  The only information I was given was his address and how long I had to get there. By the time a letter would reach, I’d already be there.

  I wasn’t surprised to have to fork out money for an airline ticket, not with everything else.

  Waiting in the baggage claim area, I studied the miniscule area while my belief in their small airport was confirmed with only two carousels in the whole place.

  Arriving at seven in the morning was the cheapest flight I could find to that area. Not very many people had traveled to Spokane with me. A handful of us stood at the baggage claim carousel, staring at the rotating metal plates as we waited.

  My lumpy pink bag slid to the silver metal carousel platform. It moved around the edge and headed towards me. I almost didn't want to claim it. As if maybe I could leave it there and the airport personnel would pick it up and send it back to Ohio. They would think it was lost, and send it back to where it came from.

  Would anyone do the same for me?

  After rescuing my bag from potential return to Mom and Dad’s house, I found myself at a car rental desk. There were more rental desks than there were baggage claim areas, which probably wasn’t saying anything good.

  A fresh-faced, young woman, who obviously hadn't been on a plane all night, smiled at me. Shiny white teeth could have shared the gloss from her lips.

  I tried not to glare as I pulled my lips back in what I hoped passed as a semblance of a smile. “Would it be cheaper to get a taxi, or to rent a car to go to Grangeville, Idaho?”

  She held her smile, but blinked at me a few times. When she spoke, she did so with deliberate slowness, like I wasn’t quite right in the head. “I'm sorry. You want a taxi to Grangeville? That would probably cost you more than your return flight ticket would.”

  “Why? Is it that far?” I pulled out my smart phone, swiping the screen to find my Google maps. “I swear it said it was only a short distance.” But I hadn’t really been paying attention to the distance between Spokane and Grangeville, just the location of Grangeville on the map.

  “You're looking at about five hours. That's if you know how to drive in the snow. It’s pretty backwoods out that way.” She smiled at me when I snapped my eye gaze to her face. “You’d be better off just saving the money with a taxi and just renting.”

  “I'm from Ohio, sweetheart. That's all we know how to drive in.” I heaved a sigh and jutted my jaw to the side. After considering her for a moment, I put my phone away. I pulled out my wallet and withdrew my favorite credit card. At least it was the one I used the most. Did that mean it was my favorite? Or was I abusive to it?

  “Okay? Which one do I need to drive in this stuff. Do you have a Jeep or something with full wheel drive?” I tried not yelling the obvious question, but her condescension was close to getting her slapped.

  The wattage of her smile brightened, if that was possible. I recognized the customer service smile when I saw one. As far as I was concerned, it was much more preferred than someone who argued with me or treated me like a child far from home.

  “I'm so glad you asked. We just got a Jeep Wrangler in. There is a return port in Lewiston, but with the weather, I'll let you have an extra twenty-four hours. No extra charge. We can have someone come out and pick up the vehicle, but that will cost you. Either way, you’ll have forty-eight hours to return the vehicle. We do charge for shuttles, if you’d prefer to be dropped off from the port in Lewiston.”

  Of course, they had an extra charge. Everybody needed to make their money.

  “It's fine. I'll take whatever I can get.” I held up my hands as she lifted her wide eyes to me. I narrowed mine. “Except I'm not taking the Humvee that’s parked out there. I can only imagine what the rental is on that, plus the gas.” I wasn't born a sucker. There's no way I was handling one of those just because they looked tougher.

  Give me a Jeep any day.

  Oh, my word, what I was doing? Every once in a while, the realization that I was headed toward my new husband and a new life slammed me in the face.

  “So, what’s taking you to Grangeville? Not a lot of people travel there this time of year. Usually everyone is snowed in.” She glanced at me from the computer screen as she typed in information I provided on sheets and handed to her.

  “I just got married.” I swallowed. The annoyingly perky girl was the first person I had said that to. I hadn't even told my parents. All I told them was that I was going on a trip and that I didn’t know when I would get back.

  That did bring her gaze up to me one more time. She smiled with real interest that time. She lifted her left hand in front of my face, a new engagement ring sparkling as she wiggled her fingers. “Oh, that is so exciting. How long have you two been together? Did he do a really special proposal? I was blown away by mine. What happened?” Would her interest wane when she realized I wasn’t one of the new blushing brides or new fiancées she was probably used to?

  I signed my name to the bottom of the document she slid across the counter at me and met her gaze boldly with mine. “I haven’t met him. We got married on the internet. I don't know if he proposed to me, if I proposed to him, or if the computer did the proposing. I’ll get back to you on that. Which way is the car?”

  Silenced by shock with her mouth open and her eyes wide, I knew I had her full attention and she wouldn’t be able to top that – no matter how special her proposal was.

  She blinked rapidly and pushed a button on the counter. “Ralph will help you out to your car.”

  Ralph led me out onto the blacktop and down the row of cars.

  My guess is she didn’t know if she should say congratulations or just leave it alone. I followed Ralph before the girl could decide.

  Did I expect congratulations? Had I done something smart? Or was I just being stupid?

  The wind tried to bite at my skin through my jeans and coat, but it failed in comparison to the Ohio winters. I felt like laughing and saying up into the white sky, “Bring your worst, because I've got nothing left for you to take.”

  What if my husband and I didn’t like each other? What was I thinking to accept the challenge? I just had to click “I do.” Who in the world got married online besides me and my husband? Well, and the guy
I didn’t choose.

  What if the stupid computer chose the wrong person?

  What was I doing?

  ***

  Driving with the GPS on my phone giving me directions, I finally settled into my course. I could do it. I normally didn't make rash decisions because once I made up my mind, I made myself stick to it.

  I had printed off the contract print from the website which actually wasn't fine at all. The email instructions I’d been getting throughout my trip reminded me to check in with the app I had to download. I was supposed to check in throughout my journey, so that both my husband and the company knew where I was at. Colin Davis’s emails stated my safety was first priority.

  Checking in with my location was the only option I had so they could be sure I wasn’t just saying I was there and I’d actually flown to Cabo.

  As I punched in the location agreement and then checked in on the drive time to confirm I was on the right path, my phone rang. My mother's smiling face lit up the screen and replaced the road map with the blue line leading me to my new house. I groaned, grateful a sign leading to Grangeville said twenty-seven miles to go. I probably would lose reception again.

  Hopefully.

  It was the first time they had tried calling me since I left. Actually, it was the first time they had tried calling me since they left on New Year's Eve. If I didn’t answer, I could see my mother calling the cops, if for nothing else than to look like a good mother. Even though we all knew she wasn't. At least, far as I was concerned. My bitterness was catching up to me.

  Guilty at the direction my thoughts had taken, I hit answer and put it on speakerphone. I was a huge fan of hands free talking and driving. “Hi, Mom, how are you?”

  “I'm fine. I had a terrific time at your sister’s. She really knows how to cook. You should go visit her, I bet you could help with her kids and she could teach you how to cook and do... other things. You know you aren’t very good at... things. I think she could help you. Why don't you go do that? Where are you? You could probably be there in a couple hours.” She paused in her rush to talk.

  I gritted my teeth for a moment, waiting for her to catch her breath. After I gathered my patience, I spoke. “Actually, Mom, I'm in Washington, right now. Oh, no, I'm actually in Idaho. I just left Washington. I'm not going to be home for at least six months.”

  Her laughter tinkled over the line. I clenched my hands on the steering wheel, tossing glares at my phone. Why hadn't I lost reception yet? Where was the mercy there?

  “Honey, I know you’re trying to be funny, but you’re failing. Where are you? Do you need your father to come pick you up?” She pulled back from the phone and called out, “You need to go get Rachel, dear, she’s lost or something and too embarrassed to say.”

  In the background my father yelled, “I'm watching the game. I can do it in two hours. Tell her to start walking.”

  I sighed, my exasperation speeding up my breaths. “No, Mom. I'm serious. I got married and now I'm heading to my husband's house. I left you all the information in a note on the table downstairs.”

  She spoke over me, as if I hadn’t just said I was married and in Idaho, clear across the country. “Oh, I saw official papers from your ex-husband. I opened them because I didn't know what they were and it looked like it was in the stack you left me on the table. He’s suing you for damages. Emotional damages that you caused by the divorce. Can you be back in time for that?”

  I felt like I'd been sucker punched, and all she could do was say, “Are you going to be back in time to be sued?”

  Spluttering, I pulled to the side of the road in the middle of snow-covered, rolling hills. “I emotionally damaged him? He cheated on me. How did I...” I pressed my lips together.

  My mother didn't care. She was already moving on.

  “Yes, I know dear. I've been hearing about it for the last six months. Where do you want me to send this? Are you really going to be gone for six months? Don't tease your father. I don't think he can handle the excitement.” She pulled away again, her voice raised to reach my dad over the game on TV. “She’s not going to be home for six months.” She giggled. “Yes, I said you’d be excited.”

  Before I could answer there was a shuffling as the phone switched hands and my dad’s deep voice came on, shaking with excitement. “Are you really doing this? Did you really get married?”

  The sad fact was he wasn’t happy to hear I might be doing something for me or proud of me, but rather that I was out of the house. “Yep. I did, Dad. Told you I would be out of the house before you guys got back.” Maybe I had made him proud. Was that possible? I’d done something he'd hoped I would do.

  He sighed in disgust. “Great, now I have to plan on you running home when you fail at this, too. Text your address to your mother. She needs to make dinner.” He handed the phone back to Mom who didn't even say goodbye when she hung up.

  They argued over what to have for dinner and it cut off as they disconnected.

  “Well, I need to go anyway.” My words faded into the empty car as I pretended to still be on with them.

  If I didn't succeed, I'd be right where they all thought I was supposed to be. I wasn't a failure. It wasn't my fault I lost the last marriage. He cheated on me. He stole from me. Derek stole from me, even after I gave him everything.

  If nothing else, I wasn't going back to their house. I didn't care if I had to sleep in a box in a field. Even if I had to stay married to a man I didn't like. I would make it happen.

  Chapter 5

  Grangeville was certainly not an easy town to find.

  After the stench of Lewiston had faded from my car, I finally started to relax my shoulders. I was so tense with worry about something I couldn't control. Wait, did that make sense? I shouldn’t be worried about anything I couldn’t control, yet there I was. Oh, my goodness, soon I’d drive myself crazy.

  I tried to take stock of my surroundings, but it was hard with all of the black bark and dark green needles showing in patches from underneath blankets of white. Snow berms encroached onto the blacktop that was gray with ice. I wasn’t sure how often the plows ran that way due to the drifts that were piled against the southern part of the highway.

  Along the north side of the road, the river wended its way through the valley like part of a braid, twisting and dancing with the highway like finely woven silver bracelets.

  If a semi-truck came along, I would be pushed over into the water. That idea both terrified me and didn't bother me at all. I think on the one hand, I was scared because I didn't want to die, but on the other hand, I had nothing to lose. No one would miss me when I was gone. My own husband – that was so weird to say – didn't even know who I was. Never even met me. As far as he was concerned, I was just another name on the screen. Maybe he would get his money back.

  My GPS spoke to me like a drill sergeant. Directions spewed forth like, take a left in one-thousand feet, take the next right, until I became so lost in the myriad of Idaho roads that there was no way I was ever getting out.

  Finally, in the middle of what seemed like miles and miles of snowy ocean, my GPS told me, “Stop. Your destination is on the left.”

  I pulled to a stop, looking around me. There was no indication that there were any homes around there. A small road, that may or may not have been a drive, departed at an angle to my position. I could go straight into white or I could go left like the GPS told me.

  Oh, the options.

  Glancing behind me, out the rear window, as if maybe someone would tell me what to do, I squinted at all the white. Heaven knew I had already looked out the front window and found nothing. Another leap of faith. How many more of those would I have to take?

  “Okay, here we go.” I locked in the four-wheel drive hubs and turned left onto the road that was certainly not a road. It hadn't been plowed at least since the last snowstorm, and there were very faint tracks leading the way toward the hills.

  I passed through a rundown fence with tumbled posts t
hat listed to the side. Barbed wire sagged under the weight of snow and ice with rectangular chicken wire filling in the holes underneath. Large poles had been cut and used as the post for a fence that traveled as far as the eye could see. It was the only relief from rolling white within view.

  Why would anyone want to live out there?

  He obviously did. My husband. The man I had essentially paid to marry. I wonder if he would’ve taken goats or chickens, like the arranged marriages of long ago.

  Where was he? Was he hiding under the snow? The road rose and fell as I drove further into the hills. I must've been in the foothills because somehow, I had gone from river and canyons to plains and back to hills again. Mounds of snow could hide bushes and brush. Trees began to dot the hillside. With all the evidence of trees and bushes surrounding me, Idaho would be one vibrant green home, come spring.

  I climbed the hill in front of me and then slowly coasted down the other side. Spread out before me was a homestead like I’d only read about. Tendrils of smoke drifted from the chimney on a long, wide, Craftsman style home built like a large square.

  The wraparound porch dressed the house with varying thicknesses and maintained the square-like shape. Outbuildings numbered more than my fingers and had their own size hierarchy like that of a family with the house as the mother, the barn as the father, and the rest of the smaller buildings would be the children, with a chicken coop, storage unit, lean-to for firewood, and more that I didn't quite know what they were.

  I would call them The Family. I didn't have to be happy, but my home would. It would be happy in its own little family. Which child was me? Probably the outhouse. As far as my parents were concerned, anyway.

  Snorting, I came to a stop in front of the house on what I hoped was the driveway. Dim lights glowed from within the home, but there was an air of emptiness about it. Not abandonment, but emptiness. As if the house gave off the impression that the owner wasn't home, don’t bother knocking.

  I had been given the brushoff before, but never by a house.