by Cheryl Wyatt
“Lord, if this is my Jericho, help me bring down these walls.”
“Blythe’s out of control,” her cousin told Colin the instant he arrived at the engagement after party. His mother had asked him last minute to take his dad to chemo. Having done so, Colin walked in late, just in time to hear Blythe’s grating voice.
“You know flora’s a bacterium? Oh, I forgot. Your mama mixed her meth up with her birth control pills. Had so many kids, only organic names were left.”
Refusing to stand idle this time, Colin rushed to Meadow, who looked equally hurt and homicidal. Approaching her side, he whispered, “She’s not worth it. Stay calm.”
Blythe’s smirk confirmed she was out to destroy Meadow’s career and business reputation by making her lose her temper during a legally binding job. It heartened Colin to see horror reflected on faces of family and friends close enough to hear. It proved they respected Meadow more than they pledged allegiance to Blythe and her scheme. Colin hoped Meadow saw their support too. Right now she looked like all she could see was red.
Tsking, Blythe vulture-circled Meadow. “Poor Little Miss Misfit, always running away. Never could take up for herself, even when her drugged-up daddy knocked her sister into next week.”
Her self-control at snap point and her body pulsing with anger, Meadow shot forward.
Colin launched in front of her, facing Blythe, pressing Meadow backward with his body. But unleashed anger imbued her with the fierceness of a freight train in transit. She turned, wrapping her arms tightly around her so she couldn’t rip out Blythe’s hair. Colin kissed his mouth to her ear while walking her backward into the adjacent garden room. “Let God deal with her.”
Colin’s heart broke at the trembling beneath him. The depths of hurt inflicted, the guilt wound Blythe’s words reopened. Meadow heaved from unchecked emotion.
He hauled her against him. “It’s not your fault, sweetheart. Your dad made his choices. Had he not been sent up, worse tragedy may’ve befallen your family, your sisters, your brother. You protected them by telling the truth about your abuse.”
No wonder she felt so close to Del, such a responsibility to help her.
Meadow still quaked violently. Now he couldn’t tell if it was all from emotional trauma or also from years of pent-up anger. He held her closer. After a moment, her forehead lowered against his chest.
The click-clack of heels sounded on marble tile.
“Isn’t this cozy? You two look about to make a bunch of little Irish Meadows.”
Colin whirled. “Enough!”
Stunned at his tone, Blythe stumbled backward. Rage surfaced. “How dare y—.”
“I’m not finished.” He faced Blythe down. “I should’ve stood up for her against you years ago, Blythe. Meadow has actually done something noble with her life. Unlike you, still spoiled and living off Daddy’s wealth.”
Blythe gasped, then fled the room wailing.
“I knew she’d act like a villain.”
“You knew she’d be here?” Meadow blinked.
“I tried to warn you, to cushion the shock, but you rejected all my calls and refused to answer my door.” He smiled ruefully.
“You were with Blythe at the mall.”
“You saw us?”
“Yes. I thought—” Red adorned her cheeks. She groaned. Paced.
Colin chuckled. “That’s why you’ve been avoiding me. The reason I was with—”
“It doesn’t matter.” Meadow ran into his open arms. “Sorry I was swift to doubt and slow to trust.”
“Meadow, you can’t do something bad enough to make me stop lov—” His lips clamped. He’d almost blurted his feelings.
Her dropped chin and open mouth told him she knew. “What were you about to say?”
He drew breath. Tried to say but got tongue-tied. What if she rejected him?
Face softening, she inched close, hand over his heart. “Then I’ll say it. I guess you know I love you,” she whispered straight from her heart to his.
“I’d hoped.” He grasped her hand, still resting against his chest, then soaked in the joyous moment of deeply held dreams coming true. “I’ve loved you from the moment I saw you kicking that snowman.”
He hugged her securely enough to assure her he was never letting her go.
“She’ll never believe this, Colin.” Flora glowed from a Maldives island tan and treasured time with Pete on their honeymoon. Colin couldn’t wait to whisk his own bride to Komandoo. “I hope she says yes.” He was terrified she wouldn’t—and glad she hadn’t asked questions when he called her after a catering event to say she should meet him at her house. Del and the teens had just arrived, barely ahead of Meadow’s probable arrival.
“She will. Right from the ER gurney.” Flora smirked.
He turned. “Why would you say that?”
“Because she’s going to faint when she figures out you single-handedly fixed all this food without burning down her brand-new catering kitchen.”
“Ha-ha.” He heard a car pull up. Excitement surged. “Everyone hide! She’s here.”
Del flicked lights off in Meadow’s new kitchen. The one she’d dreamed about, not the one she thought she’d settled for. Colin’s home across the street could be theirs together, her cottage the catering business. If she said yes, that is.
Seconds later Meadow stepped through the door to a chorus of, “Surprise!”
She blinked. Teared up. Sought Colin’s face. “A party? For me?”
“Yes.” He met her and motioned around the room to her family and friends, teen waitstaff, design and chef school pals, business colleagues, catering clients, and even former high school classmates—all crammed into her kitchen.
“How’d you get all these people here?”
“Sent invitations.”
“And they wanted to come?”
“Most people change for the better when they grow up, but you’ve isolated yourself so long you couldn’t see it.”
As the crowd moved into other parts of the house, Meadow seemed to nearly faint at the sight of her dream kitchen, understanding now why he had kept her out so long. After giving her the grand tour, time to gush over it, and a chance to greet everyone, Colin left the guests to Flora and led Meadow outside. Candles lit a path winding through her front yard.
When she saw where they ended, she burst out laughing. “You did not.”
Two snow people, man and lady, stood side by side. “Colin, really? A snow couple?”
He inched her sideways. Little snow people nestled between the two larger ones. The hole she’d kicked into Frosty was patched up nicely. It had been so cold the whole month of February that he hadn’t melted.
“What is this?”
“A big family. And a big hint.”
He reached behind the snowman and pulled out a big wooden box. “Open it.”
Meadow did so to find a nice set of Ruffoni Historia copper cookware. “Colin! These cost a fortune!”
He draped his arm around her shoulder. “Look in the little one.”
She tore the packaging away and ripped off the lid. Nested inside was a pretty set of red, white, and black damask neoprene pot holders. “They’re gorgeous,” she breathed.
“So are you. Peek inside the smallest pot holder.”
Her heart raced as she pulled the edges apart. A red velvet box greeted her gaze. She opened the container with trembling fingers. A heart-shaped solitaire winked up at her. “Oh! Oh my starch!” She held the ring under moonlight. “It sparkles like stars.”
“So do you.” He dropped to his knee. “Meadow—”
“I do! I do!”
He laughed. “I didn’t ask yet.”
“Oh, but I know you’re going to!” She squealed, grabbing his face.
Smush-cheeked, he grinned. “Glad we finally established trust.” He slipped the ring on her finger. “Be my Valentine forever, Meadow? Marry me and make a bunch of little snow angels?”
“I’d be honored.” S
he received his ring, his promise, his kiss.
“Wait. Who’s catering our wedding if you’re in a pristine white dress?”
“Del and the teens can handle it.”
“Meadow, you amaze me.”
“Trust me, beloved husband-to-be, I’m just getting started.”
“Hard to believe it’s been a year since your cave-in, sis.” Lake wove Meadow’s arm through his at Havenbrook Church’s entrance. She nodded beneath the archway Colin had carved for their wedding. The wood boasted purple and fuchsia flowers.
Speckles of snow remained from this winter, but unlike last February, flowers had cropped up in colorful echoes of an early spring. Warmth whispered through the trees, rustling the ringlets that framed her veil.
The music started. Her heart leaped. Lake grinned. “Ready?”
“Ready,” she breathed.
They started the famed walk down parchment she’d seen so many other brides traverse. Today it was her. She smiled at her attendant siblings, each one grinning and glisten-eyed at her approach. Even tough-skinned Skye.
Meadow’s gaze affixed on her groom. Colin’s eyes shone as Lake kissed her cheek and handed her off.
As they faced the pastor, Colin clutched her hand as tightly as he held her heart.
Thirty minutes and two sets of vows later, she knelt before the candle stand Colin had fashioned with his hands.
Her husband. Smiles erupted inside and out.
She read his special inscription. Ran her fingers across each word, knowing they stood true and would always remain.
This day, I marry my friend.
Their Valentine’s Day wedding date was etched beside the words.
Their rings reflected light from an LED cross as their fingers mingled, symbolic of good things to come. Colin held her gaze before they merged the flames from two candles into one and rose.
After a kiss that sent the church into whistling, rowdy applause, the pastor announced, “I’m honored to introduce Mr. and Mrs. Colin McGrath.”
Grinning, Colin led her outside to a gorgeous horse-drawn carriage.
“A fairy-tale ride?” She ran hands down the necks of each horse.
“Yes.” He smiled, watching her reaction as he helped her into the plush velvet seat. “With Andalusians.”
Squealing, she hugged him, unwittingly giving him access to her neck. He planted a steamy kiss there.
Cheeks scorching, she grinned but dipped her chin.
Reins in hand, he lifted her face. “No shame, Meadow. Blushing becomes you.” Lifting emerald eyes to sapphire sky, he said, “Lord, thank you for serving up the blessing of my sweetheart.”
1. Meadow carried emotional scars into adulthood from having been bullied as a teen. Have you or someone you loved experienced bullying? How did you cope?
2. What was your favorite scene and why?
3. Colin gave up his life in Chicago to help his parents. Have you ever needed to make drastic life changes to help a friend or relative? Would you? Why or why not?
4. To which character could you most relate? Please discuss.
5. Meadow had a tough time believing in the goodness of people because of her childhood. People like her grandparents and Del helped shape her for the better. Who in your life has had the most positive impact on the person you are today? What did they do or say that made a difference?
6. Who was your favorite character and why?
7. Colin struggled with fear of making the same mistake twice romantically. Have you ever held back from a relationship because of poor choices or hurt in your past? Please discuss.
8. Have you been to a wedding lately? What was your favorite wedding-themed decoration, shower game, or recipe? Please share funny or inspiring stories.
Cheryl Wyatt writes romance with virtue. She’s earned RT Top Picks, spots #1 and #4 on her debut publisher’s Top 10 Most-Blogged-About-Books list, Romantic Times Reviewers Choice Award, Gayle Wilson Award of Excellence final, and other awards. Cheryl loves readers!
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Twitter: @cherylwyatt
An Excerpt from ALL DRESSED UP IN LOVE
By Ruth Logan Herne
Greg Elizondo stared at the daily ledger on the front desk of his mother’s bridal salon. The white leather-bound appointment book taunted him. He swallowed hard and fought the rising surge of panic.
Six appointments were due in throughout the day, and no one to handle them. Six future brides, along with whatever form of friend, family, or foe they dragged through the front door with them, coming to find the dress of their dreams for that oh-so-special day. And no one but him in the store.
Panic escalated to full-bore heart attack mode.
Call some of your mother’s former employees. Someone must be able to help.
They would, too, if only they were available. They had gathered around him at the midsummer funeral, professing their love for his mother and pledging their help. And his mother’s regular employees—her “bridal team,” as she’d called them—had done a great job keeping things afloat all fall.
Then Donna delivered twins at Thanksgiving, and Jean needed time off unexpectedly to care for her sick father. Kathy was down with the current stomach bug, and the newest bridal consultant had called in yesterday, the last day of her vacation, to give notice, saying she was staying in Louisiana to save some fish from extinction.
Who did that kind of thing, anyway?
Maybe there was somebody else. Anybody.
His mother’s 1980s Rolodex lay in the top drawer. He leafed through it, searching for familiar names. Two of them had gone south for retirement, one had passed away the previous year, and the only other name he recognized had just been put into a skilled nursing facility near Valley Forge.
Doomed by your own ineptitude. You should have taken care of this yesterday. There is no way Kathy could or should have handled this on her own, so blaming the Norovirus doesn’t get you out of the hot seat. At this point, you deserve what you get.
His fingers went numb. His head ached. He could handle boardrooms filled with Armani-clad executives. Toss him into dinner gigs staffed by tuxedo-wearing waiters who faded into the background while taking particular care to be attentive, and he’d be totally on his game.
But this?
Mermaid gowns with laser-cut lace? Dresses suited for a medieval drawing room with acres of organza? He wasn’t even sure what organza was, but he was pretty sure he hated it by default.
Satin-filled walls pressed in on him as the clock ticked on.
Why did Donna Martin have to go and have twins, anyway? Wasn’t the world populated enough?
With less angst than he was feeling right now, he had faced down oppositional executives and told them that his law firm was about to take over their company, slice it up, and sell it off piecemeal, like leftovers from yesterday’s garage sale. Nothing fazed him. Nothing but . . . well, but this.
The bridal team hadn’t listed phone numbers next to the names in the appointment ledger. If they had . . . If they had, he’d call these women, apologize profusely, and lock the doors on Elena’s Bridal forever. Except that doing so would break his heart.
If he had a heart . . .
He must have one somewhere, because it ached when he thought of his mother, the time he missed, the long weeks he barely saw her, even though they lived in the same quadrant of the city. His corporate-ladder-climbing kept him forward-focused, but now she was gone, unexpectedly, and there was no more time.
There were no more chances. He was surrounded by the business she spent thirty years developing after his father took off with a long-legged blonde. From three days shy of his fourth birthday, it had been him and his mother, taking on life side by side.
And now it was just him. What could be more distressing than shutting down? How could he even consider ruining thirty years of all her hard work in six short months? He hauled in a deep breath and ch
ecked the book again.
Yup. Still six brides scheduled for their initial appointments, a day his mother referred to as “feast or famine.” Shopping for a gown either brought folks together or ripped them apart.
Great.
He stood and squared his shoulders. He could do this. He needed to do this.
He didn’t have to dress the women. Their friends or sisters or mothers could do that. Worst case scenario, they could dress themselves, right? The sight of an alterations room at the end of the right-hand hallway gave him an idea. He’d call the seamstresses and see if any of them were available to help.
No one answered. He left messages for all three, hoping someone would hear his plea and take pity on him. Having one of those talented alterations women on hand would be a huge help, but if none of them came through, he needed a Plan B.
What would his mother do?
He didn’t have to think twice. If Maria Elena Elizondo were here, she would do it herself. Her example had trained him to handle whatever came his way. Today was no different, but it was a whole lot lonelier.
So that was it. He would show the brides and their entourage through the store, let them pick out what they wanted to try on, then guide them through the sales process.
Could it be that simple?
Common sense said no. If selling a wedding gown was that cut and dried, why did his mother list follow-up phone calls as part of her training manual? With hundreds of gorgeous designer gowns to pick from, didn’t women usually just find one that looked great, plunk down their debit card, and leave?
Fittings and alterations. Hems. Veils. Tiaras. Jewelry. Shoes. Hosiery, hoops, petticoats . . .
His mother’s checklist went on to undergarments he didn’t know existed.
The panic re-spiraled. In twenty minutes the store would open, the first January appointment would walk through the door, and he’d be toast. And once word got around that Elena’s Bridal had no help, online reviews would tank and he’d be putting a For Sale sign in the front window.
