A Wedding for Christmas

by Lori Wilde

  Katie stopped to count it off, ran out of fingers. “A dozen I think. Maybe it was thirteen. But don’t forget I was almost a bride once myself.”

  “Oh spit.” Sesty slapped a palm over her mouth. “I’m such an idiot. I was teasing. I didn’t think about Matt . . . Just tell me to shut my big gob.”

  “It’s okay,” Katie reassured her. “It’s been two years. I’m at peace.”

  “Time heals all wounds?”

  Katie shrugged. Perhaps it did, but a large part her acceptance of Matt’s passing had come from the personal journey she’d been on since last Christmas and that wild night of unbridled sex with Ryder.

  That night had brought her to the realization that before Ryder, she had no idea what great sex was. Maybe she and Matt had not been the best fit after all. Maybe, if he hadn’t been killed, they might not have made it to the altar anyway.

  It was a lot to digest, and the understanding had changed her.

  This past year had been one of empowerment and discovery. She’d started her own business, sold the yurt and small farm Matt had left her, bought her own cottage three blocks off the square, and agreed to be Gabi’s maid of honor for her and Joe’s upcoming December wedding.

  Of course she’d agreed to the maid of honor thing before she’d known Joe was going to ask Ryder to be his best man. Or that Ryder would accept.

  She’d been fretting about it for months. In a couple of weeks, Ryder would be coming home to Twilight for the wedding.

  Just thinking about seeing him again had Katie shifting restlessly in her seat. She’d left things a bit messy between them, slipping off as she had and not returning his text or calls. Ghosting wasn’t normally her style, but with Ryder she had no self-control, as clearly evidenced by their night together.

  But when she’d played his message last year, and heard his husky voice wishing her merry Christmas, and sounding so darn lonely, she almost broke down and called him back.

  At the time she told herself not returning his call was the best way to make a clean break. It would have been a clean break except for Gabi and Joe getting engaged and insisting on having their best friends in attendance.

  Now she had an encounter to dread.

  Would Ryder make a thing of seeing her again? What if he made a thing of it? He was scheduled to be in town in time for the bachelor party, which was the weekend before the wedding.

  A week. He’d be in Twilight for a week.

  All she had to do was get through the week of the wedding, and then Ryder would go back to guarding celebrity bodies in LA, and all would be well.

  The door opened, and their shared assistant, Jana Gerard, bopped inside. Jana paused, sank her hands on her hips, glanced around the room, and swiveled her head back and forth.

  “What?” Sesty prompted.

  Jana paused for dramatic effect. She was a willowy brunette, but the ends of her hair were dyed a shocking color of neon yellow and braided in creative designs. A zoo full of tattoos decorated her body—parrots, cheetahs, zebras, chickens, snakes, an elephant. Today, she wore red leggings, a black pleather mini-skirt, tie-dye T-shirt that couldn’t begin to compete with the tattoos, and a faux fur white jacket. She had multiple piercings—ears, nose, tongue, eyebrow—and loved shocking people.

  At first, Jana’s appearance had startled Katie and put her off. It wasn’t so much the tattoos and piercing and vibrant hair as the mess of Jana’s overall look. Chaotic. Disorderly. Unharmonious.

  But now that she knew Jana, and understood that she was not only an amazing assistant but also a goodhearted person who used her appearance as a shield, Katie hardly noticed her looks anymore.

  “You two.” Jana’s head bobbed, and the expression on her face said she’d written them off as lost causes. “Both of you so perfect with your organized files and your up-to-date spreadsheets and your color-coded everything. Makes me want to come over there and toss your things.”

  “You wouldn’t dare,” Sesty said, hunching protectively over her desk.

  “You’re right.” Jana sighed. “I’d have to clean it up, and if I didn’t put everything back just-so, it would drive you wacky. Although . . .” She pointed a finger at Sesty. “I must say you have loosened up a lot since you and Josh got hitched. Regular sex agrees with you. Keep it up.”

  Jana turned toward Katie, hands planted on her hips again. “You, on the other hand, seem to be vying for organizational sainthood.”

  Katie smiled, not letting Jana get to her. “Tidy space, tidy mind.”

  “At least Sesty now has photographs on her desk and plants in her window and, shocker, I see paper clips mixed up with banker clips in the holder. And OMG, the rug is slightly askew. Take a lesson, Cheek. Relax. Get laid. You’ll be happier. Right, Sesty?”

  “I’m perfectly happy,” Katie said mildly, despite the strange tension running along the bottom of her stomach.

  “Uh-huh. Sure you are.”

  “I am.”

  “Jana does have a point,” Sesty piped up from her desk on the opposite side of the open room. “You can’t always be in control of everything all the time. Believe me, I’ve tried.”

  Oh, but she wasn’t in control. Not by a long shot. Katie thought about the last time she’d had sex. A year ago. With Ryder. And shivered.

  Hard.

  Sesty and Jana both stared at her.

  “What?” Katie said, hearing a defensive note in her voice. “I’m cold.”

  “Or thinking about all the sex you’re not getting.” Jana laughed.

  “Could we stop talking about sex, please?” Katie asked.

  “Because you’re not getting any—”

  “Do we have any new business to discuss?” Katie gave Jana a pointed that’s-enough stare.

  Jana liked to stir things up, but she knew when it was time to zip it and get down to work. She reached for her notebook computer, turned it on, and came to sit in the white swivel office chair parked in front of Katie’s desk.

  “We got a call from Wanda over at home health,” Jana said. “They have a patient whose house is so cluttered they can’t go into the home to take care of him until the place is cleaned up. The doctor is planning on releasing him from the hospital on Monday, so they’re in a time crunch. They want you to come wave your magic wand and make it all better.”

  Katie sucked in a deep breath, held it a long moment. Katie and Wanda both volunteered together at the free clinic on Thursdays. A call from home health services meant only one thing. A hoarder. Katie hated to judge, but working with hoarders wasn’t easy. It took not only great organizational skills, but also exceptional people skills. Plus it didn’t hurt to have a degree in psychology.

  “Hey,” Jana said, reading reluctance in Katie’s silence. “I told them your schedule was pretty full just in case you wanted to wriggle out of this one.”

  “Thanks.” Katie let out a sigh.

  “But they said the place is so filthy they can’t allow the patient to go into that mess with an open wound. He’s a diabetic with complications. It was all TMI for me.” Jana made a face, wriggled her hands like she was shaking off mud. “But that’s the deal. If it doesn’t get cleaned up, he’ll have to go to a rehab facility, and his health insurance might not cover it.”

  “Did you ask them to contact Dr. Finley?” Katie asked. “This might be more of mental health issue than lack of organizational skills. Get the patient some help for the hoarding behavior, and hire a cleaning crew.”

  “Wanda already talked to Dr. Finley. She referred her to you. The hoarding apparently came from the patient’s wife. She recently passed away, and he just didn’t know how to get started clearing it all out.”

  The second Jana said that, Katie realized who the home health patient was, and the bottom dropped out of her gut. There was only one person she knew of in Twilight who had recently lost a wife with hoarding tendencies.

  Jax Southerland.

  Ryder’s estranged father.

  “Call Wanda b
ack and tell her unfortunately our schedule is booked. Refer her to Lisa Allbright in Jubilee. I know Lisa will sometimes drive to Hood County for referrals,” Katie instructed.

  “I thought you were keeping your work schedule light during December. You should have openings,” Sesty said from her side of the room. “In fact, don’t you only have the one job this month? Helping Marva Bullock downsize?”

  Katie smiled, sunshine and rainbows, and in the perkiest voice she could muster answered, “Yes, and I want to keep my schedule light. Maid of honor duties and all.”

  “It’s not like you to run away from a challenge.” Sesty tapped her chin with the end of her ink pen. “What’s up?”

  “I need time. You know how nutty my family gets about Christmas. And Gabi and Joe’s wedding, as if Christmas isn’t busy enough . . .”

  All true. But mostly because Ryder was coming home for the wedding, and under the circumstances, the last thing she wanted was to be working for his dad. It was bad enough they had to see each other at wedding functions. She was not compounding things by agreeing to organize the Circle S. Even though she could probably be in and out before Ryder got to town.

  “Excuses, excuses,” Sesty said. “I think you’re nervous to be that close to Ryder. Hanging out in the home he grew up in.”

  “Why would I be nervous about that?” Katie kept her voice bland, but her pulse was hopping like crazy.

  “I don’t know.” Sesty pushed back her chair. “But every time Ryder’s name comes up you get antsy.”

  “Antsy? I don’t know what you mean.”

  Sesty nodded at her. “You chew on the cap of your pen.”

  Katie jerked the pen cap out of her mouth.

  “And,” Jana added, “your spine goes all stiff as if someone jammed a stick up it.”

  Katie slumped.

  “Not to mention you shake your foot like a paint mixer.” Sesty pointed.

  Dammit. Katie pushed down on her knee to still her shaking foot.

  “What did happen between you and Ryder in LA last year?” Jana asked.

  “Um,” Katie said, ignoring Jana’s question. “You two might not have anything to do today except overanalyze my body language, but Marva is waiting on me. Catch you later.”

  “You can run but you can’t hide,” Jana taunted as Katie picked up her purse and rushed out the door, wishing like hell she hadn’t told them she’d seen Ryder last Christmas when she was in LA.

  Luckily, she hadn’t been dumb enough to tell her friends what had happened between them. That was none of their business. But clearly, her body language had given her away. She’d have to be more careful, especially when Ryder was in town.

  At the idea of seeing him again her stomach weakened and her knees wobbled. Outside on the street, she stopped to take a deep breath. Last year, after his call wishing her merry Christmas—which she’d never answered back—she’d never heard from him again.

  And that was good. Very good.

  But then darn it all, Joe had asked Gabi to marry him and she’d said yes, and Katie had agreed to be maid of honor before she learned Joe had asked Ryder to be the best man.

  Buck up. You can handle this. It’s just a week.

  All she had to do was stay as far away from Ryder as possible for the week leading up to the wedding. Yes, they’d probably see each other every day over the course of that week, but she would make sure never to be in a room alone with him.

  And while Sesty and Jana might suspect something, they didn’t know anything for sure. It was up to her to play her cards close to the vest, and maintain a poker face.

  Marva Bullock answered the door on the second ring of the bell. She smiled at Katie, but it was a tight smile, full of tension and worry. “Is it ten o’clock already?”

  “I’m a few minutes early.”

  “No worries, come in, come in.” Distractedly, Marva waved Katie into her living room stacked high with moving boxes. The new construction was a replica Craftsman-style house, about half the size of the Tudor that Marva and her husband, G.C., were moving out of. It was an adorable cottage, but it didn’t begin to accommodate all of the Bullocks’ belongings. Something had to go.

  With her rich brown skin, ebony hair plaited in cornrows, and athletic body, Marva, the principal at Twilight High School, looked a decade younger than her fifty-five years. Her two children, Ashton and Kiley, were grown and gone, and G.C. had recently retired from his job as an electrician.

  “Lots of change going on.” Marva shook her head, and sank her hands on her hips. “I know downsizing was the right thing to do, but I can’t shake the emotional attachment to the house the kids grew up in. I miss it so much already.”

  “Is it the house you miss?” Katie asked. “Or Ashton and Kiley?”

  “Both. I can’t really separate them. We brought Ashton home from the hospital our first week in the old house.” Marva swiped away a tear with the back of her hand. “I didn’t expect to feel so mowed down. I know moving is the right thing, but it’s tearing my heart in two.”

  “Letting go of the past opens you up to the present moment,” Katie said, thinking of the calm place she’d come to after Matt’s death.

  “How did you get so wise so young?”

  “I’m repeating what my mother told me when I was grieving Matt. I’m not saying I’m any good at taking my own advice.”

  “Letting go feels like a betrayal.” Marva ran a hand over a box filled with mementoes. “Of the memories our family made in that house.”

  “You’ll make new memories here.” Katie moved to a box marked “Pots and Pans.” She picked up the heavy crate and headed toward the kitchen.

  Marva trailed after her. “I know, but . . .”

  Katie set down the box, turned back to Marva, and gave the woman her full attention. She knew moving into a new home was in the top ten most powerful life stressors. She’d gone through the same emotions last year when she’d sold the yurt and bought her first house.

  “I feel . . .”

  “What?” Katie prompted.

  “Blank. Empty. The remarkable thing about my feelings is that they are so inconspicuous. Like white paint.”

  Katie glanced around at the white kitchen, at the house full of boxes that as of yet had no personality. A house might just be wood and nails, brick and mortar, but symbolically, a house represented the place where you belonged.

  Or didn’t.

  For some reason, an image of Ryder popped into her head. He was a man without a home. He had an apartment in LA, a place to lay down his head at night, but that’s all it was.

  Katie nibbled her bottom lip and wondered what that felt like. Never putting down roots. Never really belonging anywhere. Did he, like Marva in her current upheaval, feel blank and empty? She shivered.

  “Are you cold?” Marva asked. “I can turn up the heat. Or make us some tea.”

  “I’m good. Ready to get down to work.” Katie rolled up her sleeves. She picked up a small flat box with “Junk Drawer” written on it. “What’s in here?”

  “The contents of my old junk drawer.”

  “Well, we’ll fix that.” Katie smiled. “Find a place for every item in it and, voilá, no need for a junk drawer.”

  “Honey,” Marva said, placing a hand on Katie’s shoulder. “Everyone needs a junk drawer.”

  “But a junk drawer defeats the purpose of a place for everything and everything in its place.”

  “But it does have a place.” Marva laughed. “The junk drawer.”

  Katie took a deep breath. How to say this without ruffling feathers. “Having one junk drawer sounds good in theory, but inevitably, it leads to junk drawer creep.”

  “Okay, I’ll bite. What is junk drawer creep?”

  “The junk drawer will migrate, and multiply. You’ll have two drawers, then three, and before you know it, all the drawers are junk drawers.”

  “I see what you’re getting at,” Marva said.

  “You do?”


  “Yes, and I still want one junk drawer.”

  Feeling frustrated, Katie let her shoulders sag. “But why if you know it can lead to junk drawer creep?”

  “To remind me that life is messy, and that I’m not perfect and it’s okay to let go just a little.”

  That notion went against everything Katie stood for, so she just smiled and nodded and said, “Maybe I will have that cup of tea.”

  “Great.” Marva moved toward the single-cup coffee/tea maker on the counter, the only small appliance that had been unpacked. “What kind of tea would you like?” Marva spun a carousel rack of tea pods. “Peppermint, chamomile, Earl Grey.”

  “Chamomile,” Katie said.

  Marva took her time, getting out a lemon and slicing it neatly. Pouring cream into a special little pitcher, and arranging the napkins just so.

  “Are you stalling, Marva?” Katie asked.

  “That obvious?” Marva laughed. “This is such a challenge. Indulge me?”

  “Of course.” Katie nodded, and sat down at the kitchen table.

  Marva bustled around, and a few minutes later slid across from Katie with two steaming mugs of tea and a plate of cookies. “Store-bought,” she apologized. “No time for baking.”

  “I love store-bought cookies.” Katie crunched one of the crisp ginger snaps. “Mmm.”

  “How could you love store-bought when your mom is such an extraordinary baker?”

  “That’s probably why I like store-bought. They were forbidden in our house.” Katie laughed. “I used to sneak Oreos into my bedroom in my schoolbag.”

  “Forbidden fruit does hold its appeal,” Marva said. “Speaking of forbidden fruit, how are you feeling about Ryder Southerland coming home for Joe’s wedding?”

  Katie schooled her features to remain neutral and nonreactive. She wasn’t sure she pulled it off. “I have no feelings at all. Why do you ask?”

  “Didn’t you used to have a crush on him when you were teenagers?”

  “How many kids have you seen come and go through Twilight High?” Katie asked, answering a question with a question to steer the topic away from her puppy dog crush on Ryder. Ancient history, and weren’t they just talking about letting go of the past?