How to Make a Wedding

by Cindy Kirk

  Big mistake. Then and now.

  He should have said no to his sister. He would have, except he wanted to see Jenna. Badly. A few minutes after church on Sunday or at the bridal salon earlier in the week hadn’t been enough. He would have never agreed to brunch if he’d known she wasn’t going. He’d skipped the singles group meeting since he knew she wouldn’t be there.

  Ash checked his cell phone. Almost time. Too late to back out. He tapped his toe, the knot in his stomach growing by the second.

  “Hey.” Lines creased Jenna’s forehead. “Where are Amber and Toby?”

  “Neither could make it. They asked me to show you around.”

  “Oh.”

  The one word didn’t tell Ash much. The tight lines around the corners of her mouth did. She wasn’t happy with the change of plans. He didn’t blame her.

  “Don’t you have to work?” she asked.

  “I put in enough hours that my boss doesn’t mind if I take a morning off. Ready?”

  She nodded.

  Ash opened the door to the church. “Westside hasn’t changed much.”

  He expected Jenna to show some emotion stepping inside.

  She entered without hesitation, then pulled out a lighting sensor and her camera. “I need to take readings.”

  He sat in a pew. Better than following her around like Peaches the puppy, even if he wanted to do that. “I’ll wait here.”

  Jenna walked up the center aisle the way she had at their rehearsal. Except he wasn’t waiting for her at the front with his heart lodged in his throat.

  She measured the lighting and took pictures, then headed down the far side. She climbed the stairs to the balcony used for overflow seating.

  “Stand in front of the altar, please,” she called down.

  He did. Memories of the time when he’d stood here with Jenna by his side hit like a fastball to a batter’s helmet. The disintegration of his political aspirations had eaten away at him and made him nauseous. He’d known he couldn’t go through with the wedding. He’d needed to take action, place blame, save face.

  So he’d broken up with Jenna, then and there, not privately, but publicly, in front of family and friends. What had he been thinking? Gossip had spread like a wildfire. Not about him—everyone had taken his side—but about Jenna.

  “Move a foot to your right,” she instructed from above.

  He did. “How’s this?”

  “Perfect. Stay there.”

  A minute later, she walked up the aisle. She aimed the lens at him. “Smile.”

  “Why do you want my picture?”

  “To test the lighting. You could be a groom in your dark suit and tie.”

  He glanced down at himself. “Work clothes.”

  “Well, I can Photoshop in a bride and make this look like a real wedding.” Her playful tone made him wonder if she’d put the past behind her. “Do you have a request for who she should be?”

  You.

  His heart slammed against his chest. The answer was so clear he thought he’d spoken the word aloud. She didn’t appear to have heard him, so maybe he hadn’t. A good thing.

  Forget being friends. All this time he still wanted her. Only her.

  He wanted Jenna to be his bride. Was it too late for a second chance?

  Ash had his family, a great job, money, and his health. God had been good to him. Was it okay to ask for more . . . for Jenna?

  “I’ve got what I need here.” She lowered her camera. “Where to next?”

  Ash cleared his dry throat. “The country club.”

  Half an hour later, he walked the grounds with Jenna. The darkening skies overshadowed the manicured lawns, trimmed shrubs, and tall trees.

  She took a picture, then wrote in a small spiral pad.

  “Any ideas?” he asked.

  “A few.”

  “Dinosaurs?”

  “Being chased by a T. rex is fun, but overdone. So is having groomsmen as superheroes beneath their tuxes. I’m trying to think fresh. Maybe something Star Wars–related with the upcoming new movie release or flying sharks. That’s the beauty of Photoshop. Lots of options.”

  “I can’t wait to see what you come up with.”

  “Me too.”

  She pointed to her left. “The gazebo will be a nice spot for photos.”

  “At night they turn on miniature white lights.”

  “That must be lovely.” She took a picture of the gazebo. “It’s pretty enough in the daylight.”

  “Not with the gray skies.”

  “The weather is perfect for photographs. No shadows or backlighting. Nice contrast between the green grass and white wood.” She snapped more pictures. “If you want constant sun, move to Arizona.”

  The clouds opened up. Big, fat raindrops fell.

  Jenna covered her camera with her shirt and dashed to the gazebo. He followed.

  The roof protected them from the downpour, but they were already wet. Water dripped from her ponytail. She dried her camera with the underside of her shirt.

  He shook water from his hair. A good thing he’d ditched his suit jacket after visiting the church. His shirt would dry faster.

  Rain pelted the roof, coming down harder. Thunder sounded. Jenna shivered.

  “Cold?”

  “Wet. I’ll dry.” Jenna wore a camera strap across her body. She checked the display. “But I don’t think we’re going anywhere for a while.”

  He didn’t mind spending more time with her. “Is your camera okay?”

  “Yes, thanks for asking.” She stepped toward him and raised his tie. “This didn’t fare as well.”

  Water splotches darkened the plum fabric. “The puppy drool dried. Rain will too.”

  “This is your fault for mentioning the gray skies.” Jenna smiled.

  “You brought up Arizona.”

  Another clap of thunder sounded. She stepped closer to him. “We’re both to blame.”

  He placed his hand on her shoulder and gave a reassuring squeeze. “We’re safe here.”

  Jenna hadn’t let go of his tie. She nodded.

  “You’d rather be inside.”

  She nodded.

  “You don’t like storms.”

  “Hate them.”

  He hadn’t known that. “Why?”

  She stared at the wood floor.

  “Tell me, please.”

  “One time, Colton and I were left alone during a thunderstorm. Driving rain. High winds. The electricity went out. A tree branch hit the house. Everything shook. A window broke. Scary when you’re a little kid.”

  “Or a big one.” Ash raised her chin with his fingertip. “Jenna . . .”

  Her eyes were bright and warm. So beautiful.

  His heartbeat rivaled the rumble of thunder.

  She parted her lips.

  An invitation? Ash needed to find out. He lowered his head.

  She met him halfway and kissed him.

  Warm and sweet. Jenna’s kiss took him to the place he’d forgotten—home. He wrapped his arms around her. She went eagerly toward him, as if they hadn’t been apart for two minutes, let alone the past two years. She fit against him perfectly. Her hands moved up his neck, and she wove her fingers in his hair. He soaked up the taste and feel of her as if he might not get this chance again.

  Ash had missed this, but more importantly, he’d missed her. He wanted Jenna in his life. Today, tomorrow, always.

  The way she kissed back suggested she might feel the same way. Thank you, God. Maybe Ash hadn’t messed up completely. But he couldn’t afford to make any mistakes.

  Not a second time.

  He wanted to get closer but drew the kiss to an end.

  Her eyes were wide, her face flushed, and her lips swollen. Beautiful, but Jenna’s true beauty came from the inside.

  She blinked. “What—”

  Ash placed his finger against her lips. “Shhh.”

  “We kissed.”

  She was adorable. “Yes, we did.”
r />   “But we’re not a couple.”

  “Not yet.”

  Worry filled her eyes. “Ash . . .”

  “This is unexpected.” But welcome. “The rain isn’t letting up, so let’s figure out what’s going on and what we want to do about it.”

  Jenna started to speak, then stopped. “Okay.”

  That was more than he’d hoped to hear. He’d expected a no. Hope surged. There must have been a reason he hadn’t thrown away her wedding gift. He fought the urge to kiss her again. He had to be patient, careful. This time things would work out between them. He was positive.

  Sitting on the floor of the gazebo, sheets of water falling from the sky, Jenna leaned back on her hands to keep from touching her mouth. Her lips tingled. Her body missed Ash’s warmth. And worse, she wanted another kiss.

  Crazy, or a smart way to forget about the storm? She couldn’t decide.

  No doubt crazy.

  The rain wasn’t letting up. Lightning streaked the sky. Thunder boomed. She inched closer to Ash.

  Fear. Not attraction. At least that was what she told herself.

  “So what did you want to talk about?” Jenna asked.

  “Us.”

  “O-kay.” But she wasn’t. Her fingernails dug into the narrow space between the floorboards. She crossed her legs and raised her chin. Maybe she would look more confident than she felt.

  Ash took a breath, then exhaled slowly.

  Nerve endings stood at attention. Too bad they weren’t soldiers who could protect her. Well, her heart. She worried nothing could now.

  “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. I realize I messed up long before I didn’t believe you.” Regret dripped from his words like the water running down the gazebo’s support beams. “When we met, I started dating you for the right reasons, but everything got mixed up with the campaign.”

  That wasn’t what she’d thought he was going to say. “The campaign?”

  “Yeah.” He scrubbed his face with his hand as if trying to wipe off dirt. “Running for office took over my life. Everything I did was questioned to the minute detail. From what I wore to who I dated.”

  “You mean me.”

  He nodded.

  She knew where this was going now. “I was a liability.”

  “No, you were an asset.”

  Jenna drew back. “Your father—”

  “Your working-class background was a boon to the polls. Voters related to you in a way they couldn’t with my family.”

  Jenna appreciated his honesty, though his words stung. “Who would have ever thought I could be considered a trophy wife?”

  He gave a half-hearted laugh.

  Good, she thought. They needed to keep their senses of humor.

  Ash drew imaginary circles on the wood. “Seeing you again made me realize the glossy election flier with the photo of the perfect-together engaged couple was no more real than two people who had only dated a few months finding themselves pushed to settle down before the primary election. I’m . . . sorry.”

  “Me too.” Jenna rubbed her thumb over her fingertips. She didn’t look Ash in the eyes. He wasn’t the only guilty party. “The whole reason I attended your church’s singles group was to make contacts in another part of town. I wasn’t looking for a boyfriend, but a higher-end clientele. When we started dating, my business took off with new customers. The additional income made life easier for once. Only everything blew up after you called off the wedding. My new clients disappeared. I had nothing. I realized I’d made your life, your friends, mine. I had no connections with anyone outside of my family. My faith was so weak.”

  “That’s not true. I’ve seen you working with the youth.”

  “Before, when I was with you, I wasn’t like the way I am now.” Admitting the truth was almost painful, but a weight lifted off her shoulders. Her heart felt lighter. “You were my catalyst for change. For finding Pastor Dan and his church. For falling in love with God. I can’t believe I’m telling you this, but being dumped at the altar was the best thing that ever happened to me.”

  He smiled close-mouthed, a thoughtful gleam in his gaze. “At least something good came of that.”

  “Lots of good.” She hoped he heard the sincerity behind her words. “We just had the wrong—misguided—intentions.”

  “If I could go back . . .”

  “It’s okay.” Lightning flashed, followed immediately by a roar of thunder. She rubbed her arms. Focused on Ash. “You mentioned being friends. That’s one step we skipped the first time.”

  “Does that mean there’s going to be a second time?”

  Jenna’s chest seized, the beat of her heart seeming to stop. She knew how she wanted to answer. Did she dare?

  He held her hand. Tingles exploded from the point of contact.

  “Are you willing to give us a second chance? Be friends with the possibility of more? That’s what I want.”

  No air remained in her lungs. She drew in a short breath so she could answer. “I want to believe things could be different.”

  “They will be. I promise.” He leaned toward her. “I know I’ve apologized, but I want you to know I’ve changed. I regret what I did, and I’ll never do it again.”

  Those were the words Jenna needed to hear. Peace settled over her. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

  “What do you say?” he asked.

  Hope filled her heart. This time would be different. “I’m up for a second chance.”

  Taking a second chance put a permanent smile on Jenna’s face. Dinners, a movie, texts every day, a video chat before saying good night. She couldn’t have asked for a better start to her and Ash’s friendship.

  Watching a DVD together last night had reaffirmed what Jenna knew in her heart—she wanted Ash to be a part of her life again. As a friend . . . as more.

  But something stood in the way. The wedding dress hanging in her closest had to go.

  Jenna had told Ash not to look back. Her turn. She didn’t need a reminder of the past. Not when she wanted to live in the present and look forward to the future. And she knew exactly who to call to take the dress off her hands.

  An hour later, Kerri arrived alone. “Are you sure about this?”

  “Positive.” Jenna had never been more certain. “Hanging onto the wedding gown makes no sense. If you don’t like the dress, that’s okay, but I thought since you were looking for one I’d offer it to you.”

  “I’m honored. Shocked, really.”

  “We’re about the same height, but you’re thinner so you’ll need alterations done. Come on.” Jenna had hung the dress in the bedroom closet. She removed the gown from the cover. “Here you go.”

  Kerri gasped. She covered her mouth with her hands. “What a gorgeous dress.”

  “Try it on.”

  She reached for the dress with a hesitant hand. “I could never afford—”

  “Just see if you like the gown.” Jenna headed out of the bedroom. “I’ll wait in the hallway. Let me know if you need anything.”

  Several minutes later, Kerri called Jenna into the bedroom. “What do you think?”

  “Oh, my. Gorgeous.” A lump burned in Jenna’s throat. Tears stung her eyes. Seeing Kerri wearing the wedding gown felt oh-so-right. “The dress looks better on you than me.”

  Kerri wiped her eyes. “It’s perfect, but—”

  “The dress is yours.” The words tumbled out of Jenna’s mouth without regret. Full of relief. “My gift to you.”

  Kerri’s eyes widened to the size of half-dollars. “Don’t even kid.”

  “I’m not.” Jenna grinned at her friend’s shocked expression. “Take the dress. The number of the woman who did my alterations is on the bag. She can take in the waist and bodice.”

  Tears streamed down Kerri’s face. Happy ones, based on her smile. “Thank you. This is so much more than I imagined. An answer to my prayers.”

  “Mine too.” A weight lifted off Jenna’s shoulders. Nothing held her back n
ow. “I can’t wait to see how the dress looks in photographs.”

  Kerri wiped her face with the back of her hand. “I’d better be careful. I don’t want to cry all over the lovely lace.”

  Jenna didn’t tell the bride-to-be that she had cried on what would have been her wedding day. Only the tears hadn’t been joyful ones like today.

  “Trust me. A few tears won’t hurt the dress.”

  After Kerri left with the wedding dress, Jenna danced around her house until she reached her bedroom. She stared at the empty spot in her closet where the gown used to hang and giggled like a schoolgirl.

  The past was behind her. Finally. She thought she’d moved on, but she hadn’t. Not really. Now . . .

  She touched the gold cross she wore around her neck, a birthday present from Pastor Dan and Trish.

  Thank you.

  Two words could never give back what she’d been given, but the words were all she had.

  The doorbell rang.

  Ash? They were planning to have dinner.

  Jenna walked with a bounce to her step. Full of anticipation, she opened the front door. Not Ash. “Judge Vance?”

  “Hello, Jenna.” He wore a dark suit with a blue shirt and tie. The wrinkles on his face had deepened, and his hair was whiter. “May I come in?”

  “Please do.” She motioned him inside. “Would you like something to drink? Coffee or tea?”

  “This isn’t a social call.”

  Her muscles tied into knots tighter than the ones she’d learned rock climbing. “I don’t understand.”

  “I’ll make this brief.” He removed a white envelope from his suit jacket’s pocket. “Inside is a check. It’s yours if you agree not to photograph Amber’s wedding.”

  What? Jenna stared at him. “The wedding is next weekend. We have a contract.”

  “Contracts can be broken.” Judge Vance sounded more like an ambulance-chasing lawyer than a respected judge. “Say you’re sick or your brother has been injured and you need to fly to him.”

  “I can’t lie. I won’t.” She couldn’t believe this. “Finding a last-minute photographer would be too stressful for Amber and Toby.”