by Rachel Lee
During this week, she’d seen the Wyatt she had grown to care about in law school, but she’d also seen the man he’d become. Impressive in every way.
“Anyway,” he said, standing still and facing her, “you’re free to do whatever you think is best for you. I just wanted you to know that my offer of marriage was nowhere near as loveless as I made it sound. I’ve always loved you, Amber. But I don’t want an answer now. Marrying me would upend everything you’ve ever wanted.”
Like she hadn’t already done that? But she knew what he was saying. He wasn’t going to leave this town nor would she want him to. She had to decide if she was prepared to make a life here with him, if she’d be content with it simply because she had his love.
Her heart was already swelling with her answer, but she withheld it, closing her eyes and trying to think rationally about something that in the end was going to be very irrational. But she owed it to both of them to be sure she wouldn’t become discontented.
“I can work with your father?” she asked.
“Didn’t he say so? He’d probably love a partner since I failed him in that respect.”
A small-town law practice, the exact opposite of all her dreams. But those dreams seemed so fruitless now, so dry and pointless. A small-town law practice would never make her a federal judge, but from the way Wyatt talked it would also rarely be boring.
“And my baby?” she asked, her heart squeezing. Now that the child had become real to her, she had to think about it, too.
“Would be mine. It’s yours. How could I not love it? Biology isn’t everything.”
She felt the last of her own walls beginning to crumble, and only in feeling them fall away did she realize how much of herself she’d been denying all these years.
Then she asked the question that burst the tension in the room and made him laugh. “Are you going to explain this to my father?”
It felt so good to watch him laugh like that, the sound rising deep from within him. “Yes,” he answered when he caught his breath. “Pistols at dawn if necessary.”
Then she laughed, too, and certainty began to settle into her own heart. She put the shawl aside and rose, walking over to him. When she reached for him, he welcomed her, wrapping her in his arms.
She gazed into his dark eyes and felt as if a load had lifted and only joy remained. “I love you, too, Wyatt. I think I always have. Who would have ever thought that I’d be grateful I met a cad like Tom?”
He laughed again, but not for long. This day had changed him. He looked young and exuberant again...just as she was feeling for the first time in forever.
Then he brushed his lips against hers. “Is that a yes?”
“Yes,” she said firmly. “It’s yes, and yes, and yes. How soon can we do it? Because now that my dreams are coming true, I don’t want to wait.”
“Your dreams?” he repeated. “Are you sure?”
“These are the real ones, not the ones I was given.”
He smiled, then swept her away with his kiss, his touch, his loving.
* * *
They were married the following Saturday. Wyatt had planned to hold the ceremony in the clerk’s office with the magistrate, a good friend of his, presiding. But in no time at all their small party of friends grew, and finally they had to move into the courtroom to actually take their vows.
“Like the potluck party,” Amber whispered to Wyatt.
She was beaming, he noticed. Just glowing. She’d wanted nothing fancy or special, had reluctantly accepted the loan of a white dress from Julie Archer, over which she wore his grandmother’s shawl, and she swore all she wanted was him. He couldn’t have been happier and gazed at his lovely bride with amazement. God, she was beautiful inside and out.
The courtroom was filled to overflowing, but Wyatt forgot everything as he stared into Amber’s eyes. When he said his vows to her, his heart lifted until it felt like a balloon.
Over fifty of Wyatt’s—and now Amber’s—friends stood up to applaud when the marriage was completed, and they stepped out into a sunny, pleasantly cool late-October day to find that while they’d been inside the entire square had been festooned in white balloons and crepe paper streamers, and that another potluck had been marshaled by folks who had waited outside.
The number of people amazed Amber. She looked at him with a smile. “I’m touched. And I think you’re pretty much a shoo-in for retention.”
He smiled out at all the people as they came down the steps. “It kinda feels that way.” He squeezed her hand where it lay on his arm. For once the judge was wearing a suit. “I’m sorry the honeymoon has to wait.”
“I’m not. I’ve got a whole new life to discover.”
So did he, he realized, watching her adjust his great-grandmother’s shawl with her free hand. A whole new side of life, anyway. Marriage. Fatherhood. But mostly love.
The circle of their friendship had completed, and it was wonderful.
* * * * *
Come back to Conard County for Ashley Granger and Zane McLaren’s story in Rachel Lee’s next book in the CONARD COUNTY: THE NEXT GENERATION miniseries from Harlequin Special Edition!
And catch up on previous installments:
AN UNLIKELY DADDY
A COWBOY FOR CHRISTMAS
THE LAWMAN LASSOES A FAMILY
A CONARD COUNTY BABY
REUNITING WITH THE RANCHER
Available now wherever Harlequin books and ebooks are sold!
Keep reading for an excerpt from BABY TALK & WEDDING BELLS by Brenda Harlen.
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Baby Talk & Wedding Bells
by Brenda Harlen
Chapter One
By all accounts, Braden Garrett had lived a charmed life. The eldest son of the family had taken on the role of CEO of Garrett Furniture before he was thirty. A year later, he met and fell in love with Dana Collins. They were married ten months after that and, on the day of their wedding, Braden was certain he had everything he’d ever wanted
.
Two years later, it seemed perfectly natural that they would talk about having a baby. Having grown up with two brothers and numerous cousins in close proximity, Braden had always envisioned having a family of his own someday. His wife seemed just as eager as he was, but after three more years and countless failures, her enthusiasm had understandably waned.
And then, finally, their lives were blessed by the addition of Saige Lindsay Garrett.
Braden’s life changed the day his tiny dark-haired, dark-eyed daughter was put in his arms. Eight weeks later, it changed again. Now, more than a year later, he was a single father trying to do what was best for his baby girl—most of the time not having a clue what that might be.
Except that right now—at eight ten on a Tuesday morning—he was pretty sure that what she needed was breakfast. Getting her to eat it was another matter entirely.
“Come on, sweetie. Daddy has to drop you off at Grandma’s before I go to work for a meeting at ten o’clock.”
His daughter’s dark almond-shaped eyes lit up with anticipation in response to his words. “Ga-ma?”
“That’s right, you’re going to see Grandma today. But only if you eat your cereal and banana.”
She carefully picked up one of the cereal O’s, pinching it between her thumb and forefinger, then lifted her hand to her mouth.
Braden made himself another cup of coffee while Saige picked at her breakfast, one O at a time. Not that he was surprised. Just like every other female he’d ever known, she did everything on her own schedule.
“Try some of the banana,” he suggested.
His little girl reached for a chunk of the fruit. “Na-na.”
“That’s right, sweetie. Ba-na-na. Yummy.”
She shoved the fruit in her mouth.
“Good girl.”
She smiled, showing off a row of tiny white teeth, and love—sweet and pure—flooded through him. Life as a single parent was so much more difficult than he’d anticipated, and yet, it only ever took one precious smile from Saige to make him forget all of the hard stuff. He absolutely lived for his little girl’s smiles—certain proof that he wasn’t a total screw-up in the dad department and tentative hope that maybe her childhood hadn’t been completely ruined by the loss of her mother.
He sipped his coffee as Saige reached for another piece of banana. This time, she held the fruit out to him, offering to share. He lowered his head to take the banana from her fingers. Fifteen months earlier, Braden would never have imagined allowing himself to be fed like a baby bird. But fifteen months earlier, he didn’t have the miracle that was his daughter.
He hadn’t known it was possible to love someone so instantly and completely, until that first moment when his baby girl was put into his arms.
I want a better life for her than I could give her on my own—a real home with two parents who will both love her as much as I do.
It didn’t seem too much to ask, but they’d let Lindsay down. And he couldn’t help but worry that Saige would one day realize they’d let her down, too.
For now, she was an incredibly happy child, seemingly unaffected by her motherless status. Still, it wasn’t quite the family that Lindsay had envisioned for her baby girl when she’d signed the adoption papers—or that Braden wanted for Saige, either.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised his daughter now. “Daddy will always be here for you, I promise.”
“Da-da.” Saige’s smile didn’t just curve her lips, it shone in her eyes and filled his whole heart.
“That’s right—it’s you and me kid.”
“Ga-ma?”
“Yes, we’ve got Grandma and Grandpa in our corner, too. And lots of aunts, uncles and cousins.”
“Na-na?”
He smiled. “Yeah, some of them are bananas, but we don’t hold that against them.”
She stretched out her arms, her hands splayed wide open. “Aw dun.”
“Good girl.” He moistened a washcloth under the tap to wipe her hands and face, then removed the tray from her high chair and unbuckled the safety belt around her waist.
As soon as the clip was unfastened, she threw herself at him. He caught her against his chest as her little arms wrapped around his neck, but he felt the squeeze deep inside his heart.
“Ready to go to Grandma’s now?”
When Saige nodded enthusiastically, he slung her diaper bag over his shoulder, then picked up his briefcase and headed toward the door. His hand was on the knob when the phone rang. He was already fifteen minutes late leaving for work, but he took three steps back to check the display, and immediately recognized his parents’ home number. Crap.
He dropped his briefcase and picked up the receiver. “Hi, Mom. We’re just on our way out the door.”
“Then it’s lucky I caught you,” Ellen said. “I chipped a tooth on my granola and I’m on my way to the dentist.”
“Ouch,” he said sympathetically, even as he mentally began juggling his morning plans to accommodate taking Saige into the office with him.
“I’m so sorry to cancel at the last minute,” she said.
“Don’t be silly, Mom. Of course you have to have your tooth looked at, and Saige is always happy to hang out at my office.”
“You can’t take her to the office,” his mother protested.
“Why not?”
“Because it’s Tuesday,” she pointed out.
“And every Tuesday, I meet with Nathan and Andrew,” he reminded her.
“Tuesday at ten o’clock is Baby Talk at the library.”
“Right—Baby Talk,” he said, as if he’d remembered. As if he had any intention of blowing off a business meeting to take his fifteen-month-old daughter to the library instead.
“Saige loves Baby Talk,” his mother told him.
“I’m sure she does,” he acknowledged. “But songs and stories at the library aren’t really my thing.”
“Maybe not, but they’re Saige’s thing,” Ellen retorted. “And you’re her father, and it’s not going to hurt you to take an hour out of your schedule so that she doesn’t have to miss it this week.”
“I have meetings all morning.”
“Meetings with your cousins,” she noted, “both fathers themselves who wouldn’t hesitate to reschedule if their kids needed them.”
Which he couldn’t deny was true. “But...Baby Talk?”
“Yes,” his mother said firmly, even as Saige began singing “wound an’ wound”—her version of the chorus from the “Wheels on the Bus” song that she’d apparently learned in the library group. “Miss MacKinnon—the librarian—will steer you in the right direction.”
He sighed. “Okay, I’ll let Nate and Andrew know that I have to reschedule.”
“Your daughter appreciates it,” Ellen said.
He looked at the little girl still propped on his hip, and she looked back at him, her big brown eyes sparkling as she continued to sing softly.
She truly was the light of his life, and his mother knew there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for her.
“Well, Saige, I guess today is the day that Daddy discovers what Baby Talk is all about.”
His daughter smiled and clapped her hands together.
* * *
The main branch of the Charisma Public Library was located downtown, across from the Bean There Café and only a short walk from the hospital and the courthouse. It was a three-story building of stone and glass with a large open foyer filled with natural light and tall, potted plants. The information desk was a circular area in the center, designed to be accessible to patrons from all sides.
Cassandra MacKinnon sat at that desk, scanning the monthly calendar to confirm the schedule of upcoming events. The library wasn’t just a warehouse of books waiting to be borrowe
d—it was a hub of social activity. She nodded to Luisa Todd and Ginny Stafford, who came in together with bulky knitting bags in hand. The two older women—friends since childhood—had started the Knit & Purl group and were always the first to arrive on Tuesday mornings.
Ginny stopped at the desk and took a gift bag out of her tote. “Will you be visiting with Irene this week?” she asked Cassie, referring to the former head librarian who now lived at Serenity Gardens, a seniors’ residence in town.
“Tomorrow,” Cassie confirmed.
“Would you mind taking this for me?” Ginny asked, passing the bag over the desk. “Irene always complains about having cold feet in that place, so I knitted her a couple pairs of socks. I had planned to see her on the weekend, but my son and daughter-in-law were in town with their three kids and I couldn’t tear myself away from them.”
“Of course, I wouldn’t mind,” Cassie told her. “And I know she’ll love the socks.”
Luisa snorted; Ginny smiled wryly. “Well, I’m sure she’ll appreciate having warm feet, anyway.”
Cassie tucked the bag under the counter and the two women continued on their way.
She spent a little bit of time checking in the materials that had been returned through the book drop overnight, then arranging them on the cart for Helen Darrow to put back on the shelves. Helen was a career part-time employee of the library who had been hired when Irene Houlahan was in charge. An older woman inherently distrustful of technology, Helen refused to touch the computers and spent most of her time finding books to fill online and call-in requests of patrons, putting them back when they were returned—and shushing anyone who dared to speak above a whisper in the book stacks.
“Hey, Miss Mac.”
Cassie glanced up to see Tanya Fielding, a high school senior and regular at the Soc & Study group, at the desk. “Good morning, Tanya. Aren’t you supposed to be in school this morning?”
