A Wedding for the Widower (Brush Creek Brides Book 1)

by Liz Isaacson

  “Well, I liked her too.” Michael sat down on the couch and unzipped his backpack. Walker stared at him for a moment, unsure as to what the conversation meant. Probably nothing. Over the course of the next couple of hours, he managed to feed Michael and himself, and then settle on a science fair project that would determine how much sugar was in different types of sodas. Michael would be able to boil them down himself, weigh the remains, most of it.

  Walker went to bed only a few minutes after he’d tucked in Michael, and he spent a few extra minutes in meditation. How do I let go of my fear? he thought.

  Walker didn’t get an answer from the Lord, because he already knew the answer. He needed to have faith, just like the song he’d played at Libby’s funeral.

  Bind me not to the pasture. Chain me not to the plow.

  Set me free to find my calling and I’ll return to you somehow.

  He turned his thoughts to Libby, and asked her, “What should I do?”

  She didn’t answer either, and though she’d passed away years ago, Walker still knew her as deeply as he knew himself. And if she were still alive, she’d do exactly what Megan had already counseled Walker to do.

  Swallow his pride and get on over to Tess’s.

  It took him another week to make such a big swallow. Plus he had to wait for the cookie butter to arrive. It finally did, and he smeared the biscoff spread on one piece of bread and added a healthy amount of apricot jam—Tess’s favorite—to the other side.

  With the sandwich as a peace offering, he drove down the canyon to drop Michael off at school. Part of him wanted to scamper back up to the ranch, eat the sandwich for breakfast, and figure out how to live without Tess Wagner. The other part pleaded with him to get on over to Tess’s and tell her how he really felt.

  He turned right instead of left, then another right, and then he arrived at Tess’s house. Her car sat covered in snow, untouched. Was Graham sick? Was Tess? Why hadn’t she cleaned off the car to take him to school?

  Walker approached the front porch with apprehension, a swarm of angry ants crawling through his blood. He almost smashed the sandwich into a single layer, and he coached himself to ease up on the bread. He noticed the walk hadn’t been cleared; everything in Tess’s yard was unmarred by footprints.

  His first thought was that she’d moved. But her car sat in the driveway. The big snowfall had been the previous morning, and it had been gray and cold ever since. So she hadn’t left in twenty-four hours. Didn’t mean anything.

  He knocked on the door, his heart beating as fast as hummingbird wings. Graham answered the door in his pajamas. A grin split his face. “Hey, Walker.”

  “Who is it?” Tess appeared and pulled the door open a little further. “Oh.” She fell back and tugged at her sweater. “Hello.”

  “Are you okay?” He tried to peer past them to see into the house, but the interior was too dark to see much. “Do you need me to take Graham to school?”

  She put one arm around him protectively. “He’s not going today.”

  “No?” He scanned the boy. “Are you sick?”

  “No, my mom—”

  “Graham, go see what Grandma is whipping up for breakfast.” Tess practically spun him out of the doorway.

  Walker’s curiosity meter went all the way to high. “Your mother is in town?” He’d never known Tess to have visitors, least of all her family.

  “She’s here to take care of Graham.” Tess lifted her chin but didn’t offer any additional explanation.

  “I brought you a peanut butter sandwich.” He brandished the concoction toward her. “It’s not peanut butter, obviously. But I think this would make a killer last meal.”

  He expected her to smile, to welcome him into her home, kiss him and say all was forgiven. Instead, she blinked. Blinked faster. Tears fell.

  “Tess.” Forgetting about the sandwich, Walker stepped into her personal space and wrapped her in his embrace. Every cell in his body sang to be holding her again, relieved she’d let him. “It’s just a sandwich.”

  “I’ve been eating one everyday,” she said, her voice barely her own. “See, I found another lump, and they’re saying I need to have a mastectomy.”

  Walker’s blood turned to ice. It moved through his veins with the speed of a glacier, and it hurt. “A mastectomy?”

  “On Thursday.”

  Three days. No wonder her mom was in town.

  “I’ll go with you,” Walker said.

  She shook her head and opened her mouth to say something, but Walker blurted, “Tess, please. I’m so sorry. I’m miserable without you, and I want to go again.”

  She searched his face, her eyes bright and hopeful. “Even though I’m sick?”

  “Especially because you’re sick. That’s what you do when you love someone. In sickness and in health, you know?”

  “Love someone?” Her words hung like ghosts in the air.

  “Yeah.” Walker shivered and it could’ve been from the cold. “I love you, Tess. I was stupid, and I was hoping you’d take the sandwich and tell me you loved me too, and somehow get over how stupid I was.”

  Several beats of silence passed before she said, “You were just trying to take care of Michael.”

  “That’s what I told myself too.” He nodded a couple of times. “But I was just scared. I still am. But I’m more scared of not being with you. So here I am.”

  A slow smile spread across her face. “Here you are.”

  He lifted the sandwich toward her again. One corner of it had smashed inside the bag. “You really should try this. It’s life-changing.”

  She took the plastic bag. “Well, I would like my life to change.” She retreated into the house. “Come on in. I hope you’re ready to meet my mother.”

  Walker wasn’t sure about anything, but he followed her into the house, infusing faith into every footstep.

  “Mom.” Tess paused on the edge of the carpet that delineated the kitchen from the living room. Walker sidled up to her side just as her mother turned. “This is Walker Thompson, the man I’ve been telling you about.”

  Walker rather liked the sound of that, and his fingers fumbled over Tess’s until they aligned, matched, clasped together.

  Her mother, also a blonde, turned from the stove, where the smell of hot butter tickled Walker’s nose. “Walker? Oh.” Understanding lit her blue eyes, and Walker squeezed Tess’s hand.

  “That’s my mother, Marjorie.” Tess gripped Walker’s hand like she needed his anchor to stay standing.

  “Ma’am. Nice to meet you.” He stepped forward and shook hands with the older woman who’d clearly given Tess her blonde hair and blue eyes.

  “Likewise.” She shot a glance filled with a dozen questions at Tess. “These sandwiches are ready.”

  Graham cheered and said, “I want the one with hazelnut spread.”

  Walker’s palette rebelled. He couldn’t think of a single breakfast sandwich that should include hazelnut spread.

  “Then hazelnut spread you shall have.” Marjorie beamed at Graham like he was a heavenly vision and scooped what looked like a grilled cheese sandwich out of the pan and onto a plate.

  “What’s goin’ on?” he whispered to Tess, both eyes still on the not-so-breakfast sandwich as Marjorie cut it in half diagonally and served it to Graham.

  “We decided to make grilled peanut butter sandwiches,” she said. “That one has hazelnut spread and strawberry jam.”

  Walker’s eyes darted to hers. “Your last meal?”

  She gazed at him with such affection, such…love that Walker sincerely begged the Lord not to take her from him so soon. Right there in her kitchen, the prayer ran through his mind, his heart, his very soul.

  “Hopefully not today.” A glimmer of a smile touched her lips just before she stretched up and touched her mouth to his. The kiss lasted only a moment—they were in mixed company after all—before she said, “Which one would you like?” She moved around him and glanced in the pan. “Mom ha
s a regular old peanut butter and banana sandwich, and I know you like those. I thought honey almond butter with peach preserves sounded good.” She lifted the zipper bag holding the cookie butter sandwich he’d brought her.

  “You can have either one. I'm going to eat this.” The grin she gave him this time held enough wattage to light the room, and Walker basked in the warmth of it.

  “I guess I’ll take the peach one,” he said, though he thought they all sounded pretty unappetizing. But for Tess, he’d experiment with any combination of butter and jelly until her dying day.

  And though he’d vocalized his love for her just a few minutes ago, Walker realized the strength and truth of the statement in that very moment. Tess hadn’t said it back, but he’d felt her emotion in the brief kiss, seen it in her eyes. She loved him too, even if she didn’t know it yet.

  “Okay, so here’s his backpack. He doesn’t usually have homework on Thursdays, because he has tests on Fridays.” Walker glanced around like he was forgetting something. He was, he knew it. He just didn’t know what it was.

  Ever since he’d gone to Tess’s on Monday morning, Walker’s life had spun completely out of control. He’d barely worked with the horses, instead relying on Ted and Justin to pick up his slack as he made plans to travel to Evanston with Tess.

  “Walker,” Megan said. “It’ll be fine. Your house is literally across the street.” She stood with one hand on Michael’s shoulder, both of them facing him.

  “He’s eaten breakfast,” Walker said weakly. He hadn’t eaten, and the tremors in his legs testified of it. “He’s ready for school. You can help him boil down the sodas tonight?” He looked at Michael. “They’re in the fridge at the cabin. You do what Landon and Megan tell you. Take good notes. I can help you with the display board when I get back.”

  “Got it, Dad.” Michael stepped into Walker and gave him a hug.

  “It’s going to be fine,” Walker whispered to him. “You have the phone I got you? I’ll call you tonight.” He crouched down and looked into his son’s eyes. “All right?”

  Michael nodded. “All right.”

  Walker straightened and patted his back pocket. Wallet, check. His coat pocket held his keys. A duffle bag already waited in the truck for the three nights he’d be staying near the hospital, near Tess. He supposed anything he’d forgotten, he could buy in Evanston. And anything Michael needed could be found at the cabin or in town.

  Megan drew him into a crushing hug, and said, “Go on, now, cowboy. Go take care of your girl.”

  Emotion choked in Walker’s throat, especially when Landon embraced him too, clapping a couple of times on his back and stepping away. The two men locked eyes, and Landon nodded, his throat working as he swallowed.

  Walker turned and left before he couldn’t make himself go. Before his friends and his son saw him lose his cool. He sat in his truck for a few seconds, his eyes pressed closed, and his head bent.

  “Lord,” he prayed out loud. “I know what I want. I’ve already asked you for it a hundred times. Now I’m just askin’ for the faith and patience to handle whatever happens.”

  A sense of peace filled Walker’s soul and he grasped onto it, carried it with him down the canyon to Tess’s house.

  Nerves assaulted Walker on the long drive to Evanston, and not just because of the woman seated beside him, her thigh flush with his. They’d had easy conversation, avoided the topic of her surgery and cancer, and now silence prevailed.

  “When are you going to go to the cemetery?” she asked, finally landing on one of the harder topics between them.

  “I don’t know. Later.” Walker hadn’t been to visit Libby’s grave once since her death. He’d left Evanston completely to find a new life, and he’d never gone back. He’d confessed as much to Tess, and she’d suggested he take some time while he was in town to go to the gravesite.

  “I have something else I want to talk to you about.” He shifted in the driver’s seat and cleared his throat. His mouth felt like someone had poured sand in it.

  “What’s that?”

  “You have all your legal documents, right? Driver’s license, that kind of stuff.”

  “Yeah.” She turned and looked at him, the weight of her eyes heavy on the side of his face.

  “We left early enough, and I was thinkin’…maybe we should stop by City Hall and get married before we go to the hospital.”

  The air in the cab turned still. Hushed. Reverent.

  “Married?”

  Walker lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Yeah, I mean, I love you and you love me, and…I’ll take care of Graham if anything happens to you.” He cut her a glance. “Not that anything’s going to happen, Tess. It’s not. I just—”

  “You think I love you?”

  A grin climbed across his face. “I can feel it in the way you kiss me. Remember how this isn’t my first rodeo?” He chuckled and slid one hand off the steering wheel and into hers.

  “It’s not mine, either.”

  “Then you should know you love me.”

  “I don’t need you to take care of Graham,” she said in a meek voice. “My mom’s already said she’d take him if anything happens to me.”

  “I know you don’t need me to,” he said. “But I know what kind of life you want to provide for Graham, and that ain’t the life your mom has in Salt Lake.”

  “I’m not going to marry you just so you’ll keep Graham in Brush Creek.”

  “I wouldn’t expect you to.” He squeezed her hand, the miles rolling under the tires before he employed his bravery and added, “You’re gonna marry me because you’re in love with me.” He flicked his eyes to her and back to the road. Not another living soul drove on this expanse of highway, and he kept his gaze on her for longer the next time he looked.

  “All right,” she said in that pretty little twang of hers. “I’m in love with you, so I guess we can get married.” She smiled for all she was worth, and Walker swung the truck onto the shoulder.

  He smiled back at her and ran his fingertips down the side of her face. “I knew it,” he whispered just before he kissed her like a man who’d fallen completely head over heels in love. Because he had.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Tess smoothed down the blouse she wore. At least it was pink, one of her favorite colors. She’d never imagined she’d get married again, let alone wearing jeans and a cotton blouse. At the same time, the simplicity of it appealed to her. She did want Graham to stay in Brush Creek, and she did love Walker Thompson. She just hoped her mother—and Paige—would forgive her for getting married without them.

  “Now or never,” she whispered to her reflection, glad she’d decided to put makeup on that morning. They’d take it all off before the surgery, but since that wasn’t scheduled until mid-afternoon, and Tess had the long drive to endure, she’d put herself together properly.

  She took one last look into her own eyes and smiled at what she saw there. An abundance of happiness. An inkling of faith. An enormous amount of love. She smiled and shook her head. “I can’t believe you fell in love with your best friend,” she said to her reflection before turning and exiting the restroom.

  Walker waited on a bench across the lobby, and he stood when he saw her. “You ready?”

  He’d paid for the marriage license, and they’d put their names on the waiting list for City Hall. It seemed to be a slow Friday at the beginning of December to get married, so they’d only been waiting about twenty minutes.

  “We’re next,” he added, taking her hand in his.

  “I’m ready,” she confirmed, lifting her chin. She was ready for it all. To marry Walker. To have the mastectomy. To come out the other side a survivor. To live her life.

  A clerk opened the chapel doors and called, “Walker Thompson and Tess Wagner.”

  He looked at her, and she looked at him, and together, they took the first step toward their future.

  Her pulse tried to pounce out of her chest as they passed row after row
of empty benches, so unlike her first wedding. But everything in her quieted, all her concerns floated away, with the steady grip of Walker’s hand in hers.

  They arrived at the front of the hall, where a man wearing a black suit stood. He didn’t look like a preacher, but he beamed at Walker and Tess.

  “That’s the mayor,” Walker whispered. “He’s an old friend of mine.”

  The man laughed. “An old friend of Libby’s.” The mayor stepped forward and drew both of them into a boisterous hug. A giggle escaped Tess’s lips. “She’d be so happy you’re getting married again.”

  “Okay, Terrance,” Walker said, straightening his black-and-white plaid button-down shirt. Not exactly his finest, but Tess didn’t mind so much. “We just need to get married and get on out of here.”

  “You always were so impatient.” His smile seemed permanently stuck to his face, and his infectious personality testified to Tess of how he’d gotten elected.

  “Do you often perform wedding ceremonies?” she asked.

  He turned his blue-eyed gaze on her. “I happened to be walking by when this guy was applying. I can spare a few minutes.” He stepped behind a pulpit and glanced down as he sobered slightly. “Did you want to call anyone? Have them on speaker for the ceremony?”

  Tess glanced at Walker. “Maybe my mom?”

  He pulled his phone out of his back pocket. “I’ll call mine too.”

  After Tess had given the short run-down of what was happening, she had her mother and Graham on speaker phone, and Walker had his mother and father on the line too. He emitted a nervous chuckle and drew her back into his side.

  “Okay?” he asked.

  “Okay,” she said.

  “Okay!” Mayor Terrance boomed. “Dearly beloved, we have called you here today, to witness the union of Walker Thompson and Tess Wagner.” He glanced down. “He is one lucky man to have found such a beautiful woman for a second time in his life.”

  Walker tensed and then chuckled. “Terrance, pretty sure that’s not in the script.”