Back on Blossom Street

by Debbie Macomber

  Alix had visited Jordan’s office during lunch break. They hadn’t actually argued, although they’d come close. She hated what this wedding had turned into, hated having no control, hated that no one seemed willing to listen. Not even Jordan. When she realized he wasn’t hearing her, she’d rushed out of his office with a huge lump in her throat. The stinging tears surprised her as much as the craving for a cigarette.

  She ignored Jordan’s shout. With the rain and wind, it was easy to pretend she hadn’t heard him.

  “Alix!” he yelled again and a moment later caught up with her.

  She slowed her pace and he fell into step beside her. “What just happened back there?” he asked. He was obviously confused by the way she’d hightailed it out of his office.

  “What do you mean?” she asked, annoyed that he couldn’t figure it out.

  “Why’d you leave like that? We were right in the middle of a conversation and all of a sudden, you’re gone.”

  “You weren’t listening to me,” she said, looking up at him, not caring that the rain had drenched her short hair, dripping down her face and onto her chin.

  “I don’t know why you’re so upset,” he began. “I—”

  “You don’t know?” she cried, struggling not to get emotional. “Shouldn’t I have some say in my own wedding?”

  “You do.” He still seemed befuddled. “The last thing I remember was you telling me Jacqueline and Reese had decided to hold the reception at their country club.”

  “And you think that’s a good idea?” she asked him.

  “I think it’s very generous.”

  “It is, but…” Jacqueline and Reese had been wonderful—about everything. Alix owed them far more than she could ever repay.

  She’d met Jacqueline in a knitting class at A Good Yarn, and after a rough start the older woman had taken Alix under her wing. Alix had signed up for that class in order to work off community service hours on a trumped-up drug charge; she’d decided to knit a baby blanket and donate it to charity. Her caseworker had approved the project and that was the beginning of her friendship with the Donovans.

  Through Reese Donovan’s business connections and the Rotary Club, Alix had been able to attend culinary school. The Donovans had provided part-time employment, as well. She’d filled in as their housekeeper when needed, and they’d let her move into their guesthouse, where she still lived. Jacqueline and Reese were about as close to family as Alix ever hoped to have. They’d given her the love, encouragement and support her own parents never had, and Alix loved them in return. She’d asked their daughter-in-law, Tammie Lee, to serve as her matron of honor. Jordan’s brother, Bret, was to be his best man.

  “From what my mother told me, Jacqueline had to call in all kinds of favors to get the country club for a Saturday in June,” Jordan said.

  “I know.” The guilt was even stronger than her craving for a cigarette. “But, Jordan—the country club?”

  Her fiancé placed his arm around her shoulders. “Let’s get out of the rain.” He led her under the awning outside the French Café. The rain beat against it and the water fell in a solid sheet over the edge.

  “Mom was really pleased when I told her what Jacqueline had done,” Jordan continued.

  Alix lowered her head. Jordan’s mother was a subject best avoided. Susan Turner would’ve preferred a more traditional bride for her son. Her future mother-in-law hadn’t said or done anything overt, but Alix wasn’t stupid. She knew. Jordan was close to his parents, though, and Alix would never mention any of this to him.

  “Kiss me.”

  Jordan’s eyes flared wide. “Here? Now?” He glanced over his shoulder through the large picture window at the café filled with customers.

  Alix nodded, not caring who saw them or what anyone thought. “And not a peck on the cheek, either. I need a real kiss.”

  “All right.” He clasped her shoulders with both hands and bent down to cover her mouth with his. His lips were warm and moist as they touched hers, his mouth slightly open. Relaxing, she savored his taste, his feel. She did her best to remember that while a big fancy wedding wasn’t what she wanted, it would make a lot of people happy—people like Jordan and his family and Jacqueline and Reese. She’d do it; she didn’t have to like it. With that in mind, she slid her arms around Jordan’s neck and leaned into him. She wanted him to know how much she loved him. She must love him if she was willing to go through with this craziness.

  When he broke off the kiss, she sighed and instantly felt better.

  “You have to talk to me, Alix,” he whispered, holding her tight, nuzzling her neck. “Tell me when you’re worried about something….”

  “I did. You weren’t listening.”

  “I was trying,” he said in a low voice. “Do you want to call off the wedding? Is that it?”

  “No!” Her response came fast and vehemently. “I love you. I want us to be married.”

  He brushed the wet hair from her forehead, his eyes intense. “And I love you.”

  She looked away because the love shining from his eyes confused her and made it difficult to speak. “As soon as you gave me the engagement ring, I should’ve known everything would change.”

  “In what way?” he asked.

  “Before…before, it was just you and me—and your teens, of course.” As a youth pastor, Jordan planned church-related activities with the teenagers in his congregation. Alix often tagged along to help. It was understood that once they were married, her role would continue in a larger capacity. That was fine; she enjoyed working with that age-group. She related to a lot of the temptations they faced in the world and found it gratifying that she was able to steer some of them away from making negative choices, choices she’d made as a teenager and come to regret.

  Then the minute he’d slipped the engagement ring on her finger, life as she knew it changed.

  As soon as she heard the news, Jacqueline had instantly started talking about the wedding. In fact, for Christmas, Jacqueline had presented Alix with a huge hardcover book titled Planning the Perfect Wedding. At the time, Alix hadn’t given the actual ceremony much thought. She figured she’d marry Jordan with his family and a few friends in attendance, open gifts, eat cake, and that would be it.

  Boy, was she wrong. The wedding was turning into a production, like a Broadway musical or something, with a dinner that cost more per plate than she’d earned in a week back when she’d been employed at the video store.

  That wasn’t all. The dress—correction, gown—had become a major issue. Each one she’d seen came covered with expensive lace or hundreds of tiny pearls. Or both. Jacqueline had taken her to a boutique, and Alix had made the mistake of glancing at the price tag. She’d nearly fainted. People bought cars for less money than those dresses!

  “Can’t we elope?” she pleaded, her face buried in Jordan’s chest. She knew the answer; still, she had to ask.

  “Sweetheart, I can’t do that.”

  “Why not?” She looked up, hoping he’d give her the confidence she needed to see this through. The acceptance—the resignation—she’d felt earlier had faded. She was no longer sure she could be Alix Townsend, Perfect Bride. The wedding was four months away and already she could feel the panic rising inside her.

  More than anything she wanted to be Jordan’s wife. She’d fallen in love with him when they were in the sixth grade; he embodied everything she’d ever longed for in life. Then she’d met him again three years ago, shortly after she’d joined the knitting class. She remembered every single fact about Jordan from grade school. She remembered what she’d learned about his family, too. His mom and dad loved each other and cared for their children. They weren’t drunks and losers like her parents. They had regular meals, during which the entire family sat down at the table and talked about their day. In Alix’s home, no one did anything together. If her mother was inclined to cook, dinner was left on the stove and everyone dished up their own meals. Most nights Alix ate alone in fron
t of the television while her parents argued in the background. More often than she cared to count, the fights turned physical and she hid in the closet, where she’d invented a fantasy world—a whole family of parents and siblings like the ones on TV. Or the ones at Jordan’s house…

  The contrast between her life and his didn’t stop there. Alix’s mother had once fired a gun at her father and landed in jail. By the time she left school, Alix had gone through a whole series of foster homes. During those years she’d been in plenty of trouble, too. But when Tom died of a drug overdose, it had hit her hard. Alix knew she was headed for the same fate if she didn’t change her life. From that moment, she swore off drugs. They were death with a capital D. She’d been tempted more than once, but had always found the courage to walk away.

  “The wedding’s just one day out of our lives,” Jordan pointed out.

  Alix sighed. Twenty-four hours—actually, less than that—she could handle. The wedding was scheduled for five o’clock in the afternoon, followed by a dinner and reception at the country club. Jordan already had reservations at a hotel in Victoria, British Columbia, for their honeymoon. If enduring a formal wedding meant she’d be Jordan’s wife at the end of that day, then she’d do it without another word of complaint.

  “I know this isn’t your kind of thing,” Jordan said, kissing the top of her wet head. “The truth is, all I care about is being married to you.”

  “Really?”

  He smiled. “Really.”

  “Then why don’t we just get married by ourselves and tell everyone after the fact?” Even as she said it, Alix knew that would never happen.

  “We can’t, sweetheart, I’m sorry. My mother would feel we’d cheated her and…there’d be talk.”

  “Talk,” she repeated, her voice numb.

  “I work in a church,” he reminded her unnecessarily. “Eloping isn’t a good example to pass along to the kids in the congregation. You might not realize it, but they watch everything we say and do.”

  This wasn’t news to Alix, since she was well aware of how the teens looked up to Jordan and consequently, to her. She remembered the first time she’d seen Jordan with a group of church kids at a local skating rink. He’d made her think of the Pied Piper leading children through the town. Those kids thought the world of him; they idolized him and had sent frequent glances her way, apparently shocked that he was associated with her. They weren’t the only ones.

  It’d taken Alix a long time to believe that Jordan loved her. Even now, she wasn’t sure what had attracted him to her. Whatever it was, she felt deeply grateful.

  “It’ll be a small wedding,” Jordan promised.

  She nodded. Her guest list was limited to a few friends, most of whom she’d met through the knitting class. Maybe twenty people.

  “Mom’s putting together her list this week.”

  At the mention of his mother, Alix tensed. She liked Jordan’s mother but couldn’t shake the feeling that she was a disappointment to Susan Turner. In truth, Alix didn’t blame her and was determined to do whatever she could to make this relationship a successful one.

  She derived some comfort from knowing that Jacqueline hadn’t liked her daughter-in-law in the beginning, either. Jacqueline couldn’t understand why Paul, their only son, would marry someone like Tammie Lee, whose southern background was so dissimilar to his own.

  If Alix recalled correctly, Jacqueline had had another woman in mind for Paul. Tammie Lee had persevered, though, and eventually her kindness and charm had won Jacqueline over. By the time her first grandchild was born, Jacqueline had wholeheartedly accepted Tammie Lee. Now they were as close as…well, family. And Alix considered Tammie Lee one of her best friends.

  Susan Turner might well have another woman in mind for her youngest son, too. If so, Jordan had never mentioned anyone. One Sunday, three years ago, Alix had slipped into the back of the church without Jordan’s knowledge. As part of the service he’d sung a duet with a beautiful blonde—who’d turned out to be his cousin. But seeing him with someone else, even in church, had infuriated Alix. Jordan had been equally upset with her for jumping to conclusions. He was right. Not once in all the time they’d dated had Jordan given her reason to suspect he was interested in anyone else.

  That didn’t mean his mother shared his certainty about Alix, though. Still, Susan had always been polite, if a bit cool. Jordan got along exceptionally well with his parents, and the last thing Alix wanted to do was mess that up for him.

  “You need something to take your mind off all this wedding business,” Jordan said.

  “Like what?” She was eager to do anything that would help her get through the next few months.

  “What about another knitting class?”

  Alix bit her lip as she considered the idea. She nodded slowly. “Lydia was in the other day and we chatted for a few minutes. She’s always got classes going and she’s starting a new one for a prayer shawl.”

  “What a great idea.”

  “Who would I give it to, though?” Alix asked.

  “What about my grandmother Turner?”

  Alix knew immediately that this was the perfect suggestion. She’d met his grandmother for the first time over the Christmas holidays, shortly after Jordan had given her the engagement ring, and had felt an instant connection with the old woman. They’d talked for hours, finding that their views were surprisingly alike and laughing at the same corny jokes. Although well into her eighties, Grandma lived on her own and still managed to keep a large flower garden. Alix had called Grandma Turner several times since and been out to see her last month with Jordan.

  “I’ll sign up for the class after work,” Alix told him.

  “Good.” He sighed, as though relieved the matter was settled.

  Alix leaned into Jordan and kissed him again. She wanted him to know how much she appreciated the fact that he’d come after her. She’d left before he’d begun to really listen to her. Before he’d taken her doubts and fears about this wedding seriously. But he was listening now.

  She must have put a bit more emotion into the kiss than she’d realized because Jordan was breathing hard when they broke apart. He cleared his throat. “That was nice.”

  “Yeah,” she agreed in a soft voice. “It was.”

  Jordan pulled her back into his arms. “June can’t get here too soon as far as I’m concerned.”

  “I second that,” Alix said with a laugh.

  CHAPTER 3

  Colette Blake

  Colette suspected that Margaret from the yarn store had never meant for her to hear that comment. The truth was, she was running away; she was hiding…from Christian Dempsey, from her past and—mostly—from herself. Colette had been halfway up the stairs when Margaret’s words hit her square in the back and now, a week later, those words continued to sting. She felt an overwhelming urge to explain, but she resisted. How could she tell these two women she’d been a widow for a year but was two months pregnant? Life was full of ironies, to say the least. Bitter ironies…

  For three years she and Derek had tried to have a baby with no success. Then…one slip. A one-night stand, and here she was, carrying the child of a man she’d hoped never to see again. The very thought of Christian Dempsey filled her with dread. How could she have worked as his personal assistant for five years and been so naively unaware of the kind of man he was? Losing Derek, her shocking discovery about Christian and now this unexpected pregnancy—it was enough to drive anyone to the brink of emotional collapse.

  Memories of her dead husband always brought her a pang of loss. It shouldn’t hurt this much after a full year and yet it did. His death made no sense to her. Her guilt over the fight they’d had just before his accident, another fight about their fertility problems, didn’t help. Nevertheless, her husband was dead, and she had to deal with that reality. She hated it. She hated every minute of life without Derek.

  It was so stupid that he’d died. So incredibly stupid. For the first few weeks, her an
ger at the unfairness of it had consumed her. Derek should never have gotten up on that roof in the first place. All it would’ve taken was a simple phone call, and a professional repairman could’ve come out to take care of the leak. Derek had no business even attempting it. However, he’d said that any delay would cause more damage and claimed the job was a “nobrainer.” Before she could stop him, he had the ladder up against the side of the house and a tool belt slung around his waist. This was his opportunity to use the tools he’d gotten for Christmas; she wondered if that was his real motivation, or part of it, anyway. So pointless. So foolish.

  If there was one thing to be grateful for, it was the fact that Colette hadn’t witnessed his fall. A neighbor friend had been there, talking to Derek, when he lost his balance and slid off the roof onto the concrete driveway. The neighbor called 911 from his cell phone before Colette even knew anything was wrong. Derek had been rushed to the hospital and never regained consciousness.

  Initially Colette had been in shock, and then, as soon as the fog cleared and her numbness dissipated, she became angry. Deeply, furiously angry. The anger was followed by a feeling of sadness and overpowering loss. But none of this was a good reason for what she’d done a couple of months ago.

  Her cheeks grew hot with embarrassment as she sat at the round oak table in her tiny kitchen. Covering her face with both hands, she relived the night of the company Christmas party.

  Colette had been Christian Dempsey’s personal assistant for five years. That had come about in a completely unexpected way.

  After working at Dempsey Imports in customs clearance, she’d been transferred to another floor near the corporate offices. Recently married, she was excited about her promotion to broker and the raise that went with it. She and Derek were just setting up house and with the added expenses of the honeymoon and the wedding, which they’d paid for themselves, the increase in pay had been a blessing.

  Although she’d been with the company for two years, Colette had only seen Mr. Dempsey briefly and in passing. He was a man who exuded authority and power. He was frequently away from the office on foreign buying trips, and whenever he made an appearance, he seemed remote and preoccupied. This had probably contributed to the mystique that surrounded him. It didn’t hurt that he was six-three, solidly built and exceptionally good-looking. Heads turned anytime he walked into a room; he commanded that kind of respect and attention. Her first day on the second floor, Mr. Dempsey had arrived at work soon after she did and Colette, standing in the corridor between his office and her own department, had greeted him.