“Let’s splurge on a taxi.” Emily sighed. “It’s a little too soon to introduce you to the joys of the New York subway system, I think.”
By the time she’d shepherded Alec through a burger and fries at McDonald’s, only managing to coax a few mumbled words out of him, and herded him home, where he promptly fell asleep on her sofa at only six o’clock in the evening, Emily was near tears. She had no idea what to do with this silent, grieving little boy. Until last week, Emily’s life was carefree and fun, full of parties, adventures, friends, and flitting from one interesting thing to another. Now, she was responsible for someone else’s life, and Emily couldn’t begin to think about what the loss of her sister meant to her. Her feelings didn’t matter right now. Studying Alec, looking calm and peaceful in sleep and far more relaxed than he did when he was awake, Emily knew she couldn’t do this alone. She needed help. She needed a partner.
Then a light dawned. She needed a husband. Like, now.
Two
“Well, Leilah, I don’t even think you need me here.” He grinned at the older woman, who had just been hired as the newest foreman—or was that forewoman?—of the Circle G. Leilah smiled back and nodded, politely refraining from pointing out that she had organized Brodie’s office her first morning on the job and she probably knew the ranching business better than he did.
“I think I’ve got it covered for now,” she said soberly, but her eyes twinkled. “Just in case you want to run up to the main house and cuddle that baby some more.”
Brodie was reluctant to leave, but he knew it wasn’t his office anymore, really. He nodded, though, and asked Leilah to call him if she needed anything. They both knew she wouldn’t. He didn’t have time to brood over it, though, because his phone buzzed as soon as he reached the bottom of the steps. It was a text from Dr. Lachele, telling him to head for the house ASAP. Puzzled, he broke into a jog. He couldn’t imagine what else she wanted to talk about—the woman had grilled him for six hours the day before, for Pete’s sake! Then his heart stuttered for a second. Maybe she had already found him a match. He picked up the pace until he was practically running. Lachele was waiting for him on the back steps, but she had a thoughtful look on her face.
“What’s going on?” he asked, a little winded.
“Well, I just had an interesting phone call.” Lachele suddenly focused on him, and she laughed. “You didn’t waste any time getting here, did you?”
He smiled ruefully and wiped sweat off his brow with the back of his arm. “My mama taught me that when a lady says pronto, she means it.” He followed her into the kitchen.
Willa was seated at the table, hungrily devouring what looked like a turkey sandwich, and she quickly held a finger to her lips. “Baby’s sleeping,” she hissed. “Don’t. Make. A. Sound.”
Brodie glanced around, even checking under the table. “Where?” he mouthed.
When Willa pointed to the other side of the sprawling house, where the bedrooms were located in a separate wing, he had to stifle a chuckle. There was no way Raven would hear them in the kitchen. But he nodded. “Maybe we should take our conversation back outside?” he whispered to Dr. Lachele. She nodded back, a grin tugging at the corner of her lips, and they both quietly backed out of the kitchen. Brodie pulled the mudroom door shut. “How about the picnic table?” he asked. “It’s still hotter than heck out, but at least it’ll be shady.”
“Brodie, do you believe in coincidences?” Lachele asked seriously as soon as they were seated.
“Well . . .” Brodie squinted and looked off toward the fields. “Not really. I believe that everything’s part of a plan. God’s plan.” He flushed a little, not used to speaking his beliefs out loud, but when he glanced up at Lachele, she was beaming.
“I’m so glad to hear you say that. Now, normally, I have a process to my matchmaking. I meet the prospective bride or groom, interview them—”
“Interrogate them, you mean?” Brodie laughed, and she swatted at him.
“Interview them, and then match them with the person that fits them best according to a very detailed set of criteria. But, ultimately, whether things work out or not isn’t up to me. Like I was saying, I got an interesting phone call earlier. It was from a prospective bride, and normally I don’t share any information at all, but this case is a little bit different. There’s a child involved. A ten-year-old boy.”
“And?” Brodie leaned forward, all ears. He loved kids, too, not just babies.
“And that’s it.” Dr. Lachele leaned back and folded her arms, studying him searchingly. “That’s all I can tell you. I can’t give you any details about the situation because that’s breaking the rules. I’ve already told you more than I normally tell my candidates. My assistant interviewed this person at length and sent me a full report, and while I’d like to meet her in person before I make the final decision, I think at first sight, this would be a good match for you and maybe one of those not-coincidence things we were just talking about. But you needed to know that there is a half-grown Munchkin to consider.”
Moving across the country into a house he’d bought last night in an online transaction, sight-unseen, starting a business, marrying a woman he’d never laid eyes on . . . that was all crazy enough, Brodie thought. But to throw a child into the bargain and have a ready-made family?
“I don’t believe in coincidences,” Brodie finally repeated, blowing out a breath and taking a leap of faith. “You do your thing, Dr. Lachele, and—” He nodded upward, toward the blue South Dakota sky that showed in patches through the leafy branches of the old oak above them. “He’ll do His.”
When Emily leaned across the counter in the small retiring room to fix a loose curl, the beaded bodice of the wedding dress she had bought the day before bit into her waist. “Maybe it’ll strangle the butterflies,” she muttered, tucking the bright red strand of hair back into the complicated twist she wore.
“Did you say something?” a cheery voice asked.
Emily spun around, just in time to be hugged by Dr. Lachele, the petite, purple-haired matchmaker. She instantly felt the tears that had been bubbling beneath the surface well up, but Lachele shook her finger. “No crying,” she admonished briskly. “This is the happiest day of your life!”
“Are you sure?” Emily asked, wishing her question had come out jokingly instead of so plaintive-sounding. She wished she had a mom or a sister—don’t go there, Emily—or anyone, really, to ask for advice. Was she doing the right thing for Alec by marrying a stranger? He certainly hadn’t reacted when she told him she was getting married.
Dr. Lachele’s face was kind, as if she understood what Emily was thinking, and she gave Emily another quick hug. “It’ll be all right,” Lachele murmured, patting her on the shoulder comfortingly. “You’re marrying a very good man, I promise. Now do you want to meet my husband? He’s also a very good man, and he’s excellent at walking brides down the aisle. I’ve let him practice several times on my clients.”
Emily nodded gratefully.
“Just a few quick touches . . .” Lachele briskly tugged Emily’s veil into place and tweaked the white satin skirt so it fell just so. “Gorgeous! Where in the world did you get this on such short notice? It fits you like a dream!”
Emily chuckled, feeling her optimism slowly returning. “A thrift store,” she stated proudly. “Not a stain on it, accessories included, and it fit almost perfectly. Not bad for thirty dollars, and I managed to find it in the first store I went to! Can you believe the coincidence?”
That seemed to tickle the matchmaker because she burst into laughter. “There’s no such thing as a coincidence, honey,” Dr. Lachele finally said when she could catch her breath. “Now tug that veil down, and let’s go get you married.”
But as they stepped out of the retiring room, there was a familiar face in the foyer of the small church that Matchrimony had booked for her wedding. William, the doorman from her building, stood awkwardly in a dusty-looking black suit. His weathered face
creased in a smile. “Look at you, Miz Emily—you’re pretty as a picture. I hope you don’t mind me just showing up like this, but you had mentioned once that your parents had passed on a long time ago, and I thought you might need someone to give you away.”
Tears threatened again, but Emily managed to hold them back. “I’d be honored, William,” she said instead with a brilliant smile and took his arm.
Brodie shuffled his feet nervously. He was at the altar—and in record-quick time, too—but he wasn’t fully convinced he shouldn’t run away. He felt like he was under a hot spotlight and ran a finger around the collar of his suit. The only people in the church were Lachele’s husband, a tall, friendly looking guy, and a boy that must be his bride’s son. He hadn’t been able to make eye contact with him yet. The third and last person was a kind-looking minister, who was throwing glances Brodie’s way as if he could sense Brodie’s thoughts of skedaddling. Lachele wasn’t present. She had gone to fetch his bride.
His bride. What if they didn’t get along? What if she didn’t like him? And he hated to be shallow, but what if they weren’t attracted to each other? What if—
Every thought left Brodie’s head when the doors at the other end of the aisle opened. A vision stood there, dressed in a long antique-looking white gown with silvery-color beading that glittered different colors when the sunlight from the stained-glass window behind the nave caught it. Her face was hidden by the gauzy fall of a veil, but she was short, curved beautifully in all the right places, and her hair . . . a brilliant, pure shade of red. He caught a glimpse of a stray curl and immediately, his fingers itched to see if it was as soft as it looked. He barely noticed the elderly black man on one side of her, who was giving her away. He paid hardly any attention to Lachele, on her other side, a sunny, proud smile lighting her face. His eyes were only on his bride, now walking slowly, but with a bounce in her step, down the aisle.
Emily was having a similar reaction. The nervousness she felt immediately disappeared at the sight of the tall blonde man who stood at the altar, impeccably dressed in a black suit and white shirt that fit snugly over his broad shoulders. She tried to keep her pace slow, but she wanted to get closer to see if this man’s eyes were really as blue as they appeared through the light shimmer of her veil. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, William led her up the few short steps and deposited her across from her groom with a warm hug.
As if he couldn’t wait any longer to see her face, Emily’s almost-husband leaned over and gently lifted her veil. He let out an almost soundless breath, and she felt her fair cheeks turn pink while he studied her face, unsmiling, like he was trying to memorize it. His eyes truly were an electric blue, set off by a tan that spoke of a life lived outdoors. His hair was just a bit long, and the sun-streaked strands fell casually over his forehead.
Then, her heart nearly stopped when his lips spread into an appreciative grin. “Hello,” he whispered, his voice deep and resonant.
“Hi,” she whispered back, incredibly glad that her voice didn’t squeak.
Nearby, the minister cleared his throat. “Shall we begin?” he asked, also in a whisper.
Emily blushed even pinker and nodded.
The ceremony took nearly no time at all, and before he knew it, Brodie was speaking the words that would make his bride—Emily—his to have, hold, and cherish. With the speaking of their vows, Emily Murphy became Emily Callahan, and Brodie became a husband. And a father. He glanced toward the boy in the front pew, who looked back at him with a distant expression, but not an unfriendly one. Mindful of his young audience, Brodie kissed his new bride almost chastely, brushing his lips lightly over hers in a brief caress. She tasted like strawberries, and the look in her wide green eyes told him that she was just as affected as he was by their first kiss.
Emily smiled and said thank you at all the right times to her well-wishers and made introductions and gave hugs where they were needed or offered, but all she could focus on was the warm imprint of her new husband’s hand on her lower back. Brodie Callahan. He looked and sounded just like a movie star, playing a cowboy—he even had the perfect cowboy name. She couldn’t wait to ask him all about himself and find out where they would live. Her sense of adventure was tingling, and she wanted to fling her veil in the air, grab Alec and Brodie, and run off into the sunset to begin their happy new family life.
But first, they had a wedding luncheon to attend.
Even though Matchrimony provided a limo ride to the nearby restaurant and Emily had never ridden in one, she barely registered the smooth leather beneath her or the tiny red rosebuds tucked into vases attached to consoles. William had actually managed to get Alec to talk, and the two had their heads bent together, figuring out how the flat-screen TV worked. Dr. Lachele and her husband were chatting with the minister, and that left Emily and Brodie together.
Brodie cast around for some kind of conversation starter, but his tongue was tied in knots. Emily was in a league above and beyond any woman he’d ever dated before back in South Dakota. She was beautiful, yes, but she also had that sheen of polish that some big city women seemed to have. What if she thought he was a dumb country bumpkin?
Emily wondered why Brodie was being so quiet. He didn’t seem unhappy, just . . . quiet. Tall, blonde, and silent type? That was fine—she’d often been told she talked enough for two.
“So, Mr. Callahan,” she said cheerfully. “Have you always known you’d marry someone you’d never met?”
He chuckled, the sound warm and deep, and she wanted to shiver. “No, Mrs. Callahan, I sure didn’t.”
“What made you decide to use Matchrimony?”
“Some friends of mine,” Brodie replied. “Well, their baby girl, actually. They’ve been married just over a year, and Dr. Lachele set them up at the altar, too, and it worked out so well, I was hoping she could do the same for me. I’d like a family.” He hesitated a little. “A big family, actually. You? I can see you’ve already got a start.”
“Oh, I’ve always wanted lots of kids,” Emily assured him. “Just not until I was older.”
“I don’t mean to sound rude, but how old were you when . . .”
Emily lowered her voice. “Twenty-six.”
“But . . . you don’t look old enough to have a ten-year-old son! You’re 34?”
“No. I’m twenty-four.”
“I’m not following,” Brodie said, a puzzled expression on his face.
She lowered her voice even more, and he had to lean over to hear her. “I just became a mom less than a week ago. Alec is my nephew, and my sister passed away. He doesn’t know me at all.”
“Ah . . .” Brodie’s face cleared. “I’m so sorry about your sister. That makes a lot more sense. And actually, I feel a little better now. We’re both new at this.”
Emily’s face lit eagerly. “Did you have a lot of siblings? Honestly, that was my reason for marrying so soon. I have no clue how to take care of a kid, and . . . I wanted a partner.”
“No siblings,” Brodie replied, shaking his head ruefully. “That’s why I always wanted a houseful of kids.” He took her hand as her face fell in disappointment, his larger callused fingers tracing a pattern on the back of her much smaller hand. The unfamiliar and tantalizing sensation left her catching her breath and feeling flushed. “But I can promise you, I will be your partner, Emily Callahan. We’ll handle everything together. ’Till death do us part.”
From across the back of the limo—something Alec never in his whole life figured he’d get a chance to ride in—Alec carefully watched his Aunt Emily and her new husband. They were talking in whispers, so he couldn’t hear what they were saying, but they both looked really happy. Alec couldn’t help it. It made him feel kind of lonely. He really missed his mom, and his aunt seemed nice and said all the right things, but he had tried not to talk to her much. It seemed like everyone he got close to ended up going away.
His mom died of cancer. His dad left when he was just a baby. He didn’t have an
y grandparents. His friends from his school in Florida wouldn’t get to hear about his cool limo ride and had probably already found another kid to replace him at their lunch table. Alec didn’t even want to start to like Aunt Emily and her brand-new husband. . . . If he talked too much, they’d probably figure out he was a dork and find someplace else to send him anyway.
So, instead, he focused on Mr. William, who was super cool for an old guy and knew almost as much about airplanes as Alec did. Maybe even more because his father had been one of the original Tuskegee Airmen, one of the elite black fighter pilots that flew combat missions in World War II. And Mr. William had been an airplane mechanic himself before he’d retired and started working as the doorman for Aunt Emily’s apartment complex.
At least he had Mr. William for a friend.
Three
Emily was usually totally confident in any situation but spending her wedding night with her new husband in a cramped, messy apartment, with her nephew on the pull-out couch bed in the living room, was not a situation she was prepared for. She wished she’d at least had a chance to clean before she brought Brodie home, but after their luncheon was finished and they’d said goodbye and thanks and received congratulations from everyone, there was nothing left to do but go back to her apartment. She’d been hoping her new husband would sweep her off her feet and carry them to his home, but she didn’t even know yet where Brodie lived! He had a duffel bag with him, but no suitcases or worldly belongings strapped to his back. Emily and her new husband had some definite things to figure out, ASAP.
“You have a cute apartment,” Brodie said honestly, looking around. It was messy and cluttered, sure, and not very big, but compared to his room at the Circle G, there was actually a little more space. Emily had decorated in what he was coming to think of as her personality—lots of warm, bright colors, mismatched throw pillows, quirky figurines, and framed vintage posters. The effect was fun and welcoming.
Treasured in Tennessee Page 2
