The Accidental Bride

by Denise Hunter

  “Because you love him.”

  Shay clamped down on her teeth. It was hard to argue when Abigail was right. Her friend knew it too. It was there in the tipped chin, the direct look.

  “Love doesn’t fix everything.” Shay started for the barn, for her next block of salt. If Travis loved her at all, it sure wasn’t the same way she loved him.

  “It’s a start . . .” Abigail had followed her.

  Abigail didn’t know about Ella. Didn’t know how it felt to be rejected in favor of a rodeo. “I don’t want to talk about this. Got enough to worry about with that stupid article.” She picked up a block and started for the truck.

  Abigail darted out of her way, following. “Why does it bother you so much what everyone thinks?”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “So tell me.”

  Shay sighed hard. How could Abigail understand? She’d never experienced poverty. She’d come from Midwestern suburbia.

  “You don’t know what it was like, growing up poor. It was humiliating. I ate on the government program and wore jeans that were always inches too short. Kids are cruel, and the only thing worse than that was the pity from the adults.”

  “Must’ve been hard.”

  “All I ever wanted was to make a decent living, to give my daughter more than I had so she never had to feel that way. And look at us.” Shay shoved the block into the bed, her breaths coming hard. “Still scraping by.”

  “But Olivia’s fine. All her needs are met. She’s a lovely, happy girl.”

  It was true, despite their lack of material things.

  “It just seems like no matter what I do, I’m continually being humiliated. First Travis dumps me in Cody on our wedding day, then that farce of an accidental wedding, and now a newspaper article declaring to the world that Travis never intended to marry me at all. Now he’s gone, and everyone will know he left me—again! Do you have any idea how that feels? What did I do to deserve this?”

  Abigail reached out. “I’m sorry, honey.”

  Shay leaned against the tailgate. “I’ve done nothing wrong, have I? Why do I continually feel embarrassed? I want to hide in my house and never come out. It feels just like it did when I was a kid, and I hate it.” Shay hit her palm on the tailgate, and the metal sound rang out. “I wish I didn’t care what anyone else thought.”

  Abigail perched on the truck beside her and folded her arms against the cold. “When my sister and I were in high school, we were obsessed with being popular. My dad quoted this verse so much, it still sticks in my head. ‘For am I now trying to win the favor of people, or God? Or am I striving to please people?’ ” She snorted. “We used to get so sick of hearing that. But he was right. Life would be a lot simpler if we only aimed to please God, wouldn’t it?”

  The verse struck the center of Shay’s heart like an arrow to a bull’s-eye. Is that my problem, God? That I care too much about what other people think and not enough about what You think?

  Before the thought was complete, she knew it was. Hadn’t she even married Garrett to prove to her neighbors that she was worthy of a man’s love?

  “You’re right. What is wrong with me?”

  “We all care to a degree, honey. It’s kind of like those pictures I took at your birthday, remember? I focused on the wrong objects, and the photos came out all wrong. The main subject was blurry while some random object was in focus.”

  “You’re right, Abigail. I’ve been focusing on the wrong subject. How could I miss something so obvious?”

  “Hey, we all have our issues. Shoot, I chose my career out of guilt. I had to do a major turnaround because of that. Here I am back in school again.”

  Abigail had told her about witnessing her childhood friend being abused and keeping it a secret. Her guilt had driven her into journalism to expose truths via her magazine column.

  “I’ve been so focused on what everyone else thinks, I rarely even consider what God thinks of what I’m doing or who I am.”

  Abigail gave her a sideways hug. “He thinks you’re pretty great.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  Or maybe God thought it was about time she got her life in focus. Maybe He’d even allowed all those things to happen to teach her what now seemed so obvious. Life’s lessons did rise from the deepest hurts.

  Abigail hopped down. “He also thinks I’m turning into a Popsicle out here.” Her nose was already red.

  “You really should get a decent coat.”

  Abigail posed. “But this one’s so pretty.”

  “Never mind the frostbite.”

  “Coming from Chicago, you’d think I’d know better.”

  “Go home,” Shay said. “I’m sure Wade’ll have you warm in no time.”

  “I just might do that.” Abigail rounded her car. “Call me if you need to talk.”

  Shay watched her friend pull from the drive, then began loading the blocks again.

  Help me figure this out, God. I don’t want to care so much what everyone thinks. I want to care what You think. Show me how to do it, Lord, because I don’t think I can do it on my own.

  33

  The country music was almost as loud as the rowdy cowboys and cowgirls in the Las Vegas restaurant. They’d chosen a Texas-style steakhouse to celebrate the end of the National Rodeo Finals.

  Travis pulled his phone from his pocket and checked the screen. Why did he bother? Shay wasn’t going to call . . . hadn’t called once since he’d left. It was time to face facts.

  She didn’t want him back, didn’t love him. Not like he loved her. If she did, she wouldn’t have put him out so easily. Maybe her heart wasn’t turned inside out like his.

  “Hey, cowboy.” Ella sidled into the seat beside him and flipped her silky blond hair over her shoulder. “Congratulations on your finish.”

  “Thanks. You too.” Across the room Seth laughed, taking the hand of the new filly he’d meet several days earlier. He was glad for his buddy. Somehow they’d finished first, though Travis wasn’t sure how he’d focused long enough to secure the record time.

  “When ya headed back to Montana?” Ella asked, bumping his shoulder.

  “Not sure.”

  “I’m leaving tomorrow, bright and early.” Ella took a swig from her bottle, then turned a coy smile on him. Last chance, her eyes said.

  “Safe travels.”

  She laughed, a high-pitched sound that grated on his nerves. Across the room, two bull riders gawked at her from their spot by the blaring jukebox.

  “All right, McCoy, be that way,” she said. “We could’ve had something. But you go back to wifey and have a nice little life together.” She stood. “There’s plenty of other cowboys in the corral, you know.” She smiled toward the two bull riders, then sauntered off in their direction.

  Travis wanted to leave, but he’d already ordered. He didn’t feel like celebrating. He felt like going back to his room and losing himself in sleep. It was the only time he felt at peace. The only time this hole in his gut stopped aching.

  His phone vibrated in his pocket, and his heart held its breath as he pulled it out and checked the screen.

  Dylan. He stuffed the disappointment and slipped away from the table, seeking the quieter cove at the front of the building.

  “Hey, buddy,” Dylan said when he answered. “Hear congratulations are in order.”

  “Thanks.”

  “News’ll be all over town tomorrow.”

  He wondered if Shay had heard. If Dylan had seen her lately. If she’d asked about him.

  “Saw your ride on TV. You two had a great time. I was almost jealous.”

  “You’ve got your own trophy buckles. I don’t feel sorry for you.”

  “Yeah, well . . . I miss it sometimes,” Dylan said.

  It was ironic. Travis was where Dylan wanted to be, and Dylan was where Travis wanted to be. But being in Moose Creek wouldn’t help matters. He’d been there six months, and for what?

 
“When ya coming home? We might throw a party or something.”

  “Any ol’ excuse to get together,” Travis said.

  “Well, it is winter. So tomorrow? Next day?”

  Travis sighed hard, walked to the window, his boots crunching the peanut shells strewn on the planked floor.

  “I’m not coming back, Dylan.” It was the first time he’d said it aloud, the first time he’d even admitted it to himself. He’d have to call his parents in the morning. They’d need to put the ranch on the market soon.

  “Why not?”

  “Come on, you know why. She doesn’t want me there.”

  “She’s your wife.”

  “My accidental wife. She never chose this, clearly doesn’t want to be married to me.”

  “And you’re giving up, just like that?”

  “No, it’s not just like that, pal. I’ve loved Shay for years. I came home—shoot, I even married the woman—lived with her for five months. I showed her I loved her in every way I know how, and she kicked me to the curb. She doesn’t want me in her life—nothing I can do about that.”

  So he’d go back to dreaming, go back to his regrets, his memories. He closed his eyes against them.

  “What are your plans?”

  Travis sank onto the waiting bench. “Don’t know. Going back to Texas. Maybe I’ll buy a ranch or something. I’m done with the rodeo.”

  “Too bad. Good money in it for someone with your skills.”

  “Yeah, well.” Travis leaned his head against the wood siding. “The rodeo cost me more than it ever paid.”

  34

  Shay looked at her refrigerator calendar. One week until Christmas. One full week since the rodeo ended.

  And no word from Travis. She told herself she was glad he’d stopped calling. He’d probably gone back to Texas after his big win in Vegas, which she’d purposely not watched. It was hard enough just remembering him. She didn’t need to see him showing his stuff on horseback in living color.

  Yes, he was probably in Texas with Ella, getting ready to celebrate the holidays together. Maybe that piece of jewelry was her Christmas gift. Maybe he’d catch her under the mistletoe and lay a big one on her. She closed her eyes against the thought.

  She expected to receive papers any day. He’d surely want a divorce soon, and as long as he was paying, she’d give it. God knew she didn’t have the money to throw away on something so pointless. What did she need a divorce for? She was sure never marrying again.

  She looked at the calendar, frowning. How long ago had her last cycle been? She always circled the day. She flipped back to November. The ninth was circled in blue ink. She flipped back to December, her pulse racing.

  She’d just forgotten. Surely she had. She didn’t remember having a period recently, but then she’d been so distracted by Travis’s departure, by the newspaper article, by the Christmas preparations.

  She had been tired lately, but that was because she wasn’t sleeping well. And she’d had none of the nausea that had plagued her during her pregnancy with Olivia.

  Shay let loose of the calendar pages and retrieved her nightly glass of water. No way.

  She turned off the multicolored Christmas tree lights, wandered to her bedroom, and climbed into bed, setting her alarm numbly. She tried desperately to remember a period in December and couldn’t. Her thoughts spun frantically. She couldn’t be pregnant. She just couldn’t.

  There was no discreet way to buy a pregnancy test in Moose Creek, Montana. Shay drove all the way to Bozeman, wasting gas and time, to preserve what little privacy she had left.

  She was trying to get a grip on the verse Abigail had shared with her—had been meditating on it for over a week. But her potential pregnancy was no one else’s business. And besides, God didn’t care where she bought the test.

  She perused the vast selection and decided on an expensive brand—this was no time to be cheap—then she returned to a home that had grown chilly in her absence. After donning a thick sweater, she read the directions, took the test, then propped the stick on the bathroom counter next to her toothbrush.

  She set the kitchen timer and started another pot of coffee. She checked the timer. Wiped down the table. Checked the timer.

  Was it broken? She frowned. Time had never crawled so slowly.

  You’re being silly, Shay. You are not pregnant. For heaven’s sake, it had taken eleven months to conceive Olivia. She and Travis had only been together four measly days. If she’d missed her period in December, it was just because of stress. That happened sometimes. Not to her, but still. That’s probably what had happened.

  She was going to check the stick, then she’d have a good, long laugh at her own silliness. Then she’d bury the test in the trash barrel so Olivia never found it.

  When the coffeepot gurgled, Shay poured herself a cup, adding cream until the dark brew turned caramel. She sipped the hot liquid, letting it warm her throat. Outside, flurries danced in the air, driven by the winter wind. There were already a few inches of snow on the ground and more to come.

  She looked at the vacant spot in the yard where the snowman Olivia, Maddy, and Travis built had stood for half of November. She could almost picture them now, rolling snowballs, tussling in the drifts. They’d come into the house, laughing and stomping snow from their frozen jeans, flecks of flurries melting in their hair.

  It seemed like yesterday. Now the house was quiet as a tomb.

  Olivia had cooled her heels, but things weren’t the same between them, despite Shay’s best efforts. She wished she could give her daughter a better life, but she was doing the best she could, wasn’t she?

  The buzzer sounded and Shay shut it off, her heart thudding like a drum in her chest. She walked toward the bathroom.

  It’s fine. You’re not pregnant. Relax.

  But the frantic butterflies beating their wings against her stomach didn’t mind her soothing reassurances.

  She opened the door and grabbed for the stick. Help me, God.

  A bold pink line streaked across the white background.

  “Oh, God.” The prayer left her body on a breath. Her legs went weak, crumpling like a melting snowbank. She slid down the wall and onto the linoleum.

  Oh, God, what have I done?

  She was pregnant!

  Pregnant and single!

  Not quite true. She was married, all right. To a man who was chasing his dreams and another woman clear across the country. She banged her head against the wall.

  What was she going to do? They were barely making ends meet. How would she manage now? Pregnancy and livestock didn’t mix. There were risks of falls and kicks from the animals. She’d stayed off horseback through her pregnancy with Olivia, but she wouldn’t have that luxury now.

  And what about after the baby was born? She couldn’t do chores with a baby slung to her chest. She couldn’t run her own ranch, much less work at Hank’s part-time. There was no way she could manage.

  They’d have to move. And then how would she provide for them?

  She sure couldn’t count on Travis. He was with someone else. The last thing she wanted was him coming back out of obligation. Her eyes burned at the thought. She’d rather never see him again than have him pitying her.

  She could hardly wait for word to get around town. Hardly wait until her pregnancy was apparent for the whole world to see. She always managed to give them something to talk about.

  “For am I now trying to win the favor of people, or God?”

  The scripture formed in her mind without thought.

  She was doing it again. For pity’s sake, when would she learn? It was always the first place her mind went.

  She looked at the stick in her hand, the pink line bright and bold as a shiny new dime.

  I’m pregnant.

  Okay, God, so what do You think about this?

  She closed her eyes and tried to grow still, but her heart kicked at her like a wild horse.

  “I knew you before I formed you
in your mother’s womb.”

  The scripture came from nowhere. He did know her. And He knew this baby. Had known this baby before He formed him or her in Shay’s womb.

  God formed this baby. He or she wasn’t an accident, like their wedding. This baby was part of God’s plan for her life. She didn’t know what the future held, but He did. She just had to take one step at a time. She had to trust Him through this.

  Shay laid her hand on her abdomen. There was really a baby in there. A baby brother or sister for Olivia. A son or daughter for her.

  “Hello, baby,” she whispered as a tear slipped down her cheek.

  35

  Shay wadded up the Christmas paper and dropped it into the bag Abigail held. Her friend’s living room looked like a Christmas factory had exploded.

  They’d filled their bellies with a tasty supper and exchanged gifts. Aunt Lucy had left awhile ago, Maddy had taken Olivia upstairs to paint their nails with her new manicure kit, and Wade and Dylan were outside plugging in Wade’s new battery charger, probably jawing about man-stuff.

  Shay’d had a week to come around to the idea of being pregnant. She’d seen Dr. Garvin two days earlier to have the test confirmed. The night before she’d told Olivia, who’d been giddy at the prospect of a new brother or sister, though she was clearly hoping for a girl.

  “You’re quiet tonight.” Abigail picked up Wade’s stack of gifts and set it on the stairs.

  Shay supposed now was as good a time as any. She’d been waiting to deliver the news in private. “I got an early Christmas present.”

  “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

  “I’m pregnant.”

  Abigail stopped, lowered the garbage bag, her jaw going slack. “You’re pregnant?”

  “Yep.” Shay crumpled up another sheet of paper and held it out.

  Abigail took it. “Holy cow. How are you doing? How are you feeling?”

  “Scared silly.” Shay gave a wry grin. “Other than that, all right.”

  Abigail smiled and pulled her into a hug. “It’s going to be fine. Congratulations, honey.”