by Mae Nunn
He sighed to himself. She was a great person to have by your side even if there wasn’t an accident.
“Does all your laundry smell this good?” The lady beside him asked, pointing to his purple shirt.
What am I doing? Joiner unbuckled his seat belt and stood up, grabbing his backpack out of the overhead bin.
“Excuse me, sir, the captain has turned on the fasten-seat-belt sign. We are about to start taxiing to the runway.” A flight attendant appeared from behind him.
“I’ve got to get off this plane!”
“But, sir. You can’t. You’ve been checked in and everything.”
“Ma’am, you’ve got to help me. I cannot stay on this plane!”
Joiner strode down the aisle, causing quite a fuss. The flight attendant from the back called the flight attendant up ahead and warned him of the situation. When Joiner got to the next station, a small, bald man in uniform was waiting.
“Sir, may I help you?”
“Look, dude, I know this is a problem. But we’re not moving yet and you’ve got to help me. I’ve made a terrible mistake.”
He could see in the flight attendant’s eyes a hint of compassion. A desire to help.
“Okay. But you have to do exactly as I say.”
Joiner nodded.
They moved forward to the cockpit, the flight attendant very speedily leading the way. The other man spoke to the first mate. Then he whispered to Joiner. “Grab your stomach. Act like you are about to be sick.”
The first mate glanced at Joiner, then hastily opened the door to the ramp. The other flight attendant pushed Joiner through it.
“Thank you,” whispered Joiner.
“Yes, sir,” the man said loudly. “Go to one of our desks as soon as you can to change your ticket. And I certainly hope you do not have the swine flu.”
The airline workers who were in the tunnel wrapping things up gave Joiner a wide berth. He held his hand over his mouth, keeping up the charade, till he came to the entrance, which had been reopened for him. That was when he saw her.
“Stella?”
She turned from the direction of the window, wiping her face on her sleeve. Her face was splotched red and her beautiful eyes were puffy. He lunged forward as she stood to her feet, and they fell into one another’s arms.
Not wanting to let her go, he picked her up and carried her to a seat, where he held her in his lap like a baby. Stella, for her part, kept her arms around his neck. He had the feeling she was finished letting go of him, but he wanted to hear it from her own lips.
“What are you doing here, my love?”
“Did you see me? Is that why you got off the plane?”
“No,” he admitted. “I had no idea you were here. I was just sitting there in my seat and I realized I could not leave you. I don’t know what in the world I was thinking even getting on the plane.” Joiner smoothed her hair back from where it was matted to her face. “Polo is fun, and it used to be my dream. But you are my dream now, Stella. You and nothing else. Do you hear me? I am yours—body and soul. I don’t even care where we are or what we’re doing. But I know that none of it means anything to me unless I have you.”
He stroked her face as she digested all of his words.
“Well, you don’t have to give anything up, Joiner.” Stella touched the amulet on his chest. “I came here because I’m going with you. I do love my school, and of course I love my family. Kilgore is my home—or so I thought—until you left.” She wiped her face again with the back of one hand. “I tried to work this morning—to go on without you at the school—and that’s when I realized I don’t want that dream anymore if you’re not a part of it. Let’s go buy my ticket. If you’re going to Germany, I’m going, too!”
Joiner hugged her to his body, enfolding her tight in his arms. He kissed her on the mouth, softly at first, and then with powerful intensity, as if releasing all of the pain and confusion he’d ever felt.
“Stella, I don’t want to go to Germany.”
“What? But I thought—”
“I thought so, too. But my home is with you in Kilgore. I want us to run the school. I want my brothers, and Pistol, and the ranch, and even the RV till we can afford something better.” His eyes twinkled. “And I want Buster to be a grandpa someday and he can teach our little kids to ride broncs.”
Stella jerked her head up sharply.
“Just kidding about the bronc part. But I’m serious about everything else.” He set her gently in the chair and got down on one knee. “Stella Jane Scout, will you please marry me?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
IT WAS AMAZING how much of a wedding could be planned online. After they set the date for New Year’s Eve, Stella picked out her dress at Stardust Celebrations in Plano, where Joiner, his brothers and Buster were also fitted for their suits, and then she headed to Cha Cha’s in northwest Arkansas for Thanksgiving. With a short time-out for turkey and dressing with Cha Cha’s parents on Thursday, they spent the entire long weekend piled in Cha Cha’s bed picking out wedding things on her laptop.
For these moments, however, Stella could not have been more grateful. Even though they might have preferred shopping in Dallas for the big occasion, Cha Cha’s health just wouldn’t allow it. This bothered Cha Cha more than Stella, who had never been a big shopper anyway. The important thing was that they were together.
And really, everything they needed was at their fingertips. Stella didn’t even have to do much. This was Cha Cha’s passion and area of expertise. By the time Stella had to leave for home on Sunday, they had a photographer booked, flowers picked out, decorations chosen, music lined up and everything else you could imagine on order and scheduled for rush delivery.
The Christmas season flew by in a whirlwind, although Joiner and Stella managed to take in the Festival of Lights in Kilgore, and Daune and company threw a shower for the couple. She and the other employees, along with Clint Cavender, pitched in and hosted it at Common Grounds.
With the money Joiner hoped to make breeding Pistol, they’d decided not to take Clint’s offer. Star Stables was their shared dream now, and they hoped to always be able to run it the way they wanted to run it. Clint, as ever, had accepted their decision graciously.
They got lots of neat housekeeping gifts, and some that were hilariously funny. Most surprising was a gift from Garry Clubb—or the sea captain, as Joiner called him—he gave them a telescope. It was used, he said, but very valuable, a gift to him from his late wife. Stella had had no idea that Garry’s hobby was studying constellations. The gesture was touching. And it was something they’d definitely enjoy.
The most interesting gift was Buster’s. He wrapped up a miniature RV that closely resembled the one on the ranch. When they opened it, he explained that he was giving them the RV to live in, and then he handed them another gift. Inside that box was a birdhouse he’d made, and it contained a paper that was rolled up, sticking out of the hole. The paper was a deed transfer for the north forty acres, made out to Joiner and Stella Scout Temple. He explained that the birdhouse represented the new house they could build and live in, if they wanted, on the north forty.
When everyone clapped at this, Buster blushed. “Well, you’re lovebirds, ain’t ya?”
The three of them drove to Gentry for a quick visit on Christmas Eve. They took lunch, as Cha Cha had started chemo again and had very little energy, but she was hoping “the stars would align” and she’d recover enough to feel good at the wedding. Steve had the Charlie Brown lights on for them even though it was daylight when they arrived.
Joiner chose the moment after lunch, before Cha Cha had to lie down, to do two things that were very special. “I have some jewelry for these two ladies,” he said. “The first is for you, Cha Cha.”
He took Stella’s necklace from around his neck. “I know you gave this to Stella when she lost her mother. She gave it to me, with a wish for my own healing, and I believe I have found it. Now I want to pass this necklace back t
o you.” He walked over and placed the amulet around Cha Cha’s neck. “You are so very important to all of us. And we pray every day for your healing.”
“Thank you, Joiner.” Cha Cha wiped a tear away.
They all did. But Joiner wasn’t finished. Lightening the mood, he said, “And I think I owe this little lady a piece of jewelry, if I’m not mistaken.”
Stella sat on the edge of her seat. Out of his pocket, he pulled a small black velvet box. Taking a knee as he had that day in DFW airport, he said, “I wish I had this when I asked you to marry me, but like with a lot of things with us, I’ve been a little late.” Joiner opened the box and held it out to her. “Stella, I hope I’m never late again in showing you how much I love you. And I’m so proud you’re going to be my wife.”
Stella gasped. He took the ring out of the box and slipped it on her finger. The round, three-carat diamond was bezel-set in a milgrain-detailed frame. A double halo of forty single cut diamonds encircled it, in the most intricately detailed of patterns. It was an antique, from the art deco period, cast in platinum. It fit as if it had been made for her. And it was absolutely perfect.
*
WHEN THE BIG day came, the barn was transformed into a wonderland of soft white lights. Champagne-colored organza and tulle draped every surface, and a bower of fragrant vintage roses, provided by Kandan and Georgiaberry’s garden, formed the centerpiece of the gathering place at the front. Grace sat on a stool to the side and played her acoustic guitar, with selections ranging from country to classical to spiritual. It was wintry cold outside, but the atmosphere in the barn was warm and golden.
Before a standing-room-only crowd of Stella’s Kilgore family—all of the Star Stables employees and clientele, old teachers, rodeo people and friends—Jacob Hunnicutt, who also happened to be a minister, stood at the ready to perform the ceremony. An unspeakably handsome and nervous Joiner waited beside him, with his brothers all lined up at his back. On the opposite side of the aisle were Hunt’s and Cullen’s wives, Gillian and Sarah, and Cullen’s two oldest daughters, Carrie and Meg, who were junior bridesmaids.
*
STELLA AND BUSTER waited in her office for the traditional wedding march to begin. He was nervous, fidgety, constantly bothering with his black four-in-hand tie. Stella straightened it for him for the seventh time. “You look very handsome, Pops,” she whispered.
A tear slid down his cheek and landed in his beard. “I wish your mother could be here with us on this day,” he choked out. “She would be so very proud of you.”
“I believe she is with us, in spirit. And Pops?” Now it was Stella’s turn for tears. “Thank you for loving me, and loving Joiner.”
The music began and they walked, arm in arm, to the back of the barn. Cha Cha was waiting there in a chair to usher them in and help with the timing. Wearing the necklace Joiner passed along to her for Christmas, she smiled radiantly under her pearl-colored turban and fluffed the train of Stella’s dress as she and Buster prepared to walk down the aisle. She gave final instructions to Hope, who was the flower girl, and released her to throw out her rose petals like nobody’s business. Uncle Steve, in the back row, gave Stella and Buster a thumbs-up.
Stella wore a ring of champagne roses on her head that almost matched the color of her skin. Her hair fell in soft, gamine wisps around her face, softening the line of her high cheekbones, and accentuating the beauty of her long neck. A touch of lip gloss, just a brush of bronze blusher and mascara were her only makeup. In her hands she carried a bouquet of the same colored roses and her mother’s lace handkerchief, a gift from Buster.
Her gown was two shades lighter than the roses in a pale candlelight ivory. The style was Baroque inspired, with vintage lace net, a strapless sweetheart neckline and a sheer alençon lace bodice with beaded and embroidered overlay. With it, up top, she wore a matching beaded and embroidered bolero net jacket accented with pleated tulle trim. A soft, A-line lace net skirt with pleated ruffle godets on the sides and back hugged her curves. She felt as if she was gliding on a cloud that trailed out behind her in a chapel-length train. She heard the crowd catch its breath as she took her first step.
But her eyes were fixed on Joiner. Standing tall and proud at the end of the aisle, he was the picture-perfect groom. His black three-piece suit slim-fit him in all of the right places. He wore designer boots without a scuff and a new black cowboy hat, hair peeking out from under the edges of it in raven-colored waves. But what Stella focused on most were his eyes. Their deep violet color held so much love for her in that moment she thought her heart might burst from the sheer joy of living.
There was no fear in their love. She kicked off her satin boots and ran down the aisle to meet him.
*
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ISBN-13: 9781460376232
Lone Star Refuge
Copyright © 2015 by Mae Nunn and Gwen Ford Faulkenberry
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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