Plantation Christmas Weddings

by Barnes, Sylvia

  She pushed him away and got into her car.

  He held the door. “Sandra, please don’t do this.”

  She ignored his plea and started the engine.

  “Fine. If you want to leave, go ahead, but think on this: the trap only works if you still love me.”

  She jammed the car into gear and drove away before his pleas could penetrate the anger soaring through her. She had to hold on to that to keep from breaking down. How could she have been so blind, so naive, all this time?

  She glanced in the rearview mirror. She could see Devon still standing in the driveway watching as she drove away.

  This time it was truly over.

  “Devon, we’re so sorry!”

  He turned to find his mother, sister, and kids standing on the porch, watching him with sadness.

  “We had no idea she would react so badly,” Kim said. “I really thought she wanted to get back together with you. I just hated so much to see you both so unhappy when I was so happy.”

  Jacob stepped forward. “Dad, go after her.”

  Cara followed. “Yes, Daddy, go. Make her see reason. Tell her we didn’t mean any harm.”

  He hugged the twins to him. The sadness and guilt lining their faces spoke volumes. “Your mom knows you love her and only want what’s best for her.”

  Kim lifted the hem of her wedding dress and stepped off the porch. “What are you going to do?”

  He stared around at his family and sighed. “What else? I’m going to fight for her.”

  Chapter 12

  The tears started even before she’d left Natchez. Sandra aimed her car toward the Trace and raced for home, her anger dissipating and being replaced by profound sadness. An hour ago, everything in her life had seemed perfect. Now everything was in shambles.

  Had everyone in her life set out to betray her? Her own kids had turned against her. She replayed moments from the weekend over in her mind, seeing things from a different perspective now. What a fool she’d been to fall so easily for Devon’s charms.

  Lord, what should I do?

  In the rearview mirror, she spotted a vehicle approaching behind her at great speed. As it grew closer, she recognized the familiar black SUV. She gripped the steering wheel as he pulled alongside her. Was he trying to get them both killed?

  She let down the window and shouted at him. “What are you doing? You’re driving like a crazy person.”

  “Pull over,” he called. When she didn’t respond, he laid on the horn. “Pull over, Sandra.”

  She jumped, startled by the sudden noise. He was crazy and was going to get them both killed. Still, she didn’t stop.

  Devon sped up and cut in front of her, stopping suddenly and causing her to slam on her brakes and skid to a stop.

  He jumped from his SUV and headed toward her car.

  She got out and confronted him. “What do you think you’re doing? Are you trying to get us both killed?”

  “I’m not giving up on us, Sandra.”

  “I can’t have this discussion now.”

  “Why? Because our family loves us enough to fight for us? Did you get your ego bruised? Yes, they planned this. They wanted this to happen. It doesn’t change the fact that it did.” He reached for her arm. “Sandra, I love you. I can’t lose you again. I won’t. You can get back into your car and drive home, but that won’t be the end of us. I’ll continue to fight for you, for us. That’s a promise.”

  “You can’t make that kind of promise, Devon. You can’t know what will happen in a few weeks or a few months. What if I mess up again? What if you leave again? I don’t think I could handle losing you twice.”

  He stroked her hair. “That will never happen.”

  “Why would this time be different?”

  “Because I’m different. We’re different. We fell apart because we were trying to make this work on our own. We were two people trying to have our own ways. This time we’ll let God have His way with our marriage, and that means what God has joined together, no one can pull apart.” He reached into his jacket and pulled out a folded blue paper. Sandra recognized it as the divorce documents. “I’m taking the D-word off the table. It’s not an option anymore.” He ripped them. “It will never be an option again. You’re stuck with me, and this time I mean for life.”

  She so much wanted to fall into his arms and believe him, yet she hesitated, looking up at him with vulnerability. “I’m scared, but I want this. I want us.”

  “We’ll make it, Sandra. We’ll make it together.”

  Love warmed her heart and soul, and she couldn’t contain the smile that spread across her face. When their lips met, she melted into his embrace, feeling alive and safe for the first time in years. God had truly made all her dreams come true.

  Chapter 13

  The reflection pond glowed amber with candles and torchlight. Christmas lights hung from the oak trees and evergreens, creating a canopy of lights in the evening sky. The stars shone bright on Christmas Eve as Sandra walked toward the old oak tree where Devon waited for her. The ground had been cleared of leaves and pecans for the event.

  Big smiles stretched across the faces of the family, her family, now and forever. The twins, Mike and Kim, and Lynn. The only person present that wasn’t family was the preacher Rachel had secured for them on short notice.

  She reached Devon, and he took her hands. As she placed her hands in his and the family gathered around for the renewal of their vows, Devon smiled. Brandon Hall would forever be in her mind the place where dreams came true and love rekindled, the place where Sandra and Devon were forever joined under the old oak tree.

  How many kisses had taken place under this old oak tree? Sandra knew of at least one, when the preacher pronounced them, forevermore, husband and wife.

  Christmas at Monmouth

  Lorraine Beatty

  Dedication

  To the special ladies of Monmouth Historic Inn, Nancy Reuther and Carol Jones, whose help and kindness made this story possible. God bless you and the entire Monmouth family.

  Chapter 1

  November

  Wreath Anderson strolled through the hall of Monmouth Plantation, her gaze resting admiringly on the antique furniture, the curved staircase, and the colorful mural wallpaper. Of all the antebellum homes in Natchez, Monmouth was her favorite. The early nineteenth-century Greek Revival with its large portico, broad zigzag railing, and four massive square pillars across the front epitomized the image of a Southern estate. Situated on twenty-six acres of beautifully landscaped gardens, the historic property had evolved over the years into a five-star boutique hotel.

  Chilling winter air rushed around her ankles as she stepped outside, sending a shiver all the way up to her neck and hastening her steps across the courtyard of the historic inn. Winter in Natchez, Mississippi, was always unpredictable. One day’s balmy, spring-like weather could become a blustery sweater-and-boots day the next. Today had been a combination of both—warm in the morning and cold and windy by the afternoon.

  As soon as she checked in with sales manager and event planner Helen Fletcher at the office, she’d head home, fix a pot of raspberry tea, and snuggle up on the couch. But first she had a few wedding details to go over. Her business, Wedding Wreath Bridal and Event Planning, was exceptionally busy this Christmas season. The next three weekends were packed full of luncheons, parties, a special benefit dinner, and a small wedding at one of the historic plantations. But it was the wedding at the end of the month here at Monmouth that was churning up the past and keeping her off balance. The bride, Grace Donovan, had chosen an antebellum theme for her wedding, complete with period uniforms and hoopskirts— the same theme and the same venue as Wreath’s wedding six years ago. The wedding that never happened.

  A gust of wind lifted her hair from her shoulders, chasing her inside the brick building that had once been the historic home’s kitchen but now served as the main offices and gift shop. If this cold spell lingered too long, it would make for a ver
y uncomfortable wedding ceremony for Grace Donovan and Brian Blair. Outdoor weddings in December, even in southern Mississippi, could fall prey to bad weather. And when the wedding was for the daughter of a state senator, bad weather could ruin the day for a lot of important people.

  “I think the cold front has arrived.” Wreath smiled at the woman standing behind the registrations counter. An attractive woman in her fifties, Helen had been the property’s sales manager and event planner for years, and her love and passion for the property gave the inn its heart.

  Helen frowned and shook her head. “It’s going to get down into the fifties tonight. I really don’t like cold weather.”

  Wreath laughed, planting her hands on her hips. “You’re a Yankee. You should be used to cold weather.”

  “I might have been raised in the North, but I’ve lived in the South too long. Anything below sixty is too cold for me.” Helen led her through the gift shop to her office in the back, originally the plantation’s warming room where food was placed for the head butler to carry to the main house. She handed Wreath the folder she’d lifted from her desk. “Here’s the final menu for the Donovan-Blair wedding dinner. There are a few changes. You may want to run it by your bride again. I know how upset they can get when they don’t get everything they want.”

  Wreath scanned the list of sumptuous foods. “Not Grace Donovan. I have never had an easier bride to work with.” A fact for which she was grateful. This wedding was unearthing enough pain as it was. A difficult bride would have made it unbearable. She closed the folder. “It’s kind of strange, actually.”

  Helen peered at her over glasses. “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. A wedding as large and unique as this one is hard enough to coordinate. Having an easygoing bride is a blessing. Plus it’ll make the new manager look good. It never hurts to make the boss happy. And I want to keep this man happy.” Helen smiled and fanned her face with her hands. “He’s a looker. And when he smiles, I just want to melt. Wait until you see him.”

  Wreath followed Helen into the small alcove that held the copy machine and leaned against the doorjamb as she watched the woman work. “Oh really? I meant to ask you about him.”

  Helen tapped the small stack of paper on the top of the copier to even up the sheets. “Well, he’s from Nashville, and apparently he’s some hotshot wonder boy making a name for himself in the hospitality industry.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Micah Broussard,” a man’s deep voice responded.

  Wreath spun around—she knew that name, but it couldn’t be the man she remembered. Her gaze landed on a tall sable-haired man with sparkling blue eyes and a charming lopsided smile. Her memory faltered briefly, adjusting to the fully matured version of the man she remembered. His hair was darker, the face more sculpted and with deep character lines in his cheeks and a sharper angle to the jawline. The broad shoulders and muscular chest showed off his expertly tailored dark gray suit to perfection. He could have posed for the cover of GQ on the spot. Six years had only improved on a good thing. “Micah. I can’t believe it’s you. The last time I saw you…” She stopped, her heart chilling as old, painful memories burst to the surface. This wedding was difficult enough to work on without having a very physical reminder of her greatest humiliation. She folded her lips together, struggling to maintain her composure.

  “It’s good to see you again, Wreath.”

  Before she realized it, Micah had opened his arms and pulled her into a friendly hug. It was over in an instant but left her with a sense of warm strength and the scent of peppermint. She stepped back, disconcerted. “You’re the new manager?”

  “I prefer innkeeper. It fits the antebellum surroundings better, don’t you think?” He smiled, brushing back his suit coat and resting his hands on his lean hips. “Helen, here, has been giving me a crash course. I understand we have a big wedding coming up at the end of December.”

  Wreath lost her voice. The knot in her stomach tightened. The last time she’d seen Micah was at her wedding. She rarely thought about that horrible day six years ago when her fiancé, Jack Mason, had abandoned her at the altar. “It’s the event of the year. We’ve got it under control.”

  Micah studied her a moment, his blue eyes probing, searching for something. She looked away. She wasn’t sure she liked the idea of working with Micah. Normally she’d only interact with the hotel manager in a minor capacity. Mostly she worked with Helen when the Wedding Wreath was planning an event at the inn, but the Donovan-Blair wedding was too big a deal. She’d have to coordinate with everyone to pull it off. But having Micah around, her ex-fiancé’s best friend and the man who had introduced her to Jack, would play havoc with her already tattered peace of mind.

  “I have every confidence in you, Wreath. I remember your strong sense of commitment to whatever you set your mind to.”

  “Thank you. I’ll need it.”

  Helen clutched a folder to her chest and smiled at each of them in turn. “So how do you two know each other?”

  Micah looked a bit taken aback by the blunt and nosey question. Wreath smiled. Helen wasn’t shy about expressing her curiosity. “We worked together several years ago in Memphis at one of the Hancock Hotels.” Maybe she could keep the explanation focused on an old friendship and skip the part about the wedding and Jack. “It was my first job, right out of college. Micah was my trainer.”

  “And now you’re together again. Only this time, Wreath, you can be his trainer.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Helen lifted one shoulder. “Well, you may not work for Monmouth, but as many weddings and events you’ve held here, you know as much about the hotel as I do.”

  Micah smiled down at her. “That’s good to know. Between you and Helen, I should be an expert in short order.”

  Helen slipped her glasses in place and looked down at her desk. “Why don’t you two go get reacquainted. I’ve got work to do, and I can’t do it with this reunion going on.”

  Micah shrugged and, gently taking Wreath’s arm, steered her toward the stairway at the back.

  Upstairs he stopped at the first door, opened it, and stepped back to allow her to enter first. Her heart skipped a beat as she brushed past him, inhaling the scent of peppermint again. She used to tease him about always having the candy in his pockets. He’d explained how the sweet had helped him stop smoking years ago. The habit had stuck. She glanced over at him to find him staring, an appreciative glint in his blue eyes. “You haven’t changed a bit. Still as lovely as ever.”

  The compliment sent heat rushing to her cheeks and tightened her throat. She searched for a response. “And you look taller.” She cringed.

  Micah laughed out loud. “No, I’m still standing right at six feet, but you seem taller than I remember.” He glanced down at her five-inch heels, cocking one eyebrow.

  “Oh. Yes, well, I had a meeting with a vendor and I had to dress the part. I’m still five feet five.”

  “And a half.”

  “What?”

  Micah leaned closer, holding her gaze. “Five feet five and one-half inch.”

  He was right, but she never added that half inch. “How did you remember that?”

  “I never forget important things.” He gestured her to be seated in one of the chairs opposite his desk.

  She sat down, anticipating his sitting in his desk chair. Instead, he took the chair beside her, which only sent her nerves quivering again. Seeing Micah had unleashed a wave of memories she didn’t want to revisit, and she regretted coming to his office. She should have claimed her busy schedule as an excuse to leave. Now it was too late. She inhaled, willing her nerves to calm down.

  He crossed his long legs and gazed at her with a warm and tender expression. “So tell me about this big wedding you’re coordinating. Helen said it’s an antebellum theme like yours….” He exhaled, setting his jaw and rubbing his forehead. “Sorry, Wreath. I didn’t mean to bring that up.”

  Wreath forced a smi
le, swallowing past the lump in her throat. “No problem. That was a long time ago.”

  Micah leaned forward, forearms resting on his knees, peering into her eyes as if trying to communicate something of importance. “Yes. It was. A very long time ago.” He leaned back in the chair again, smiling. “I’m looking forward to working together again.”

  Wreath wanted to say the same, but in the short time she’d been with Micah, the undertow of old pain and hurts were dragging her under. He’d introduced her to Jack. They’d been best buddies. He should have warned her about what kind of person Jack was. A twinge of guilt pricked her. She was being petty and childish. Micah had never done anything to her except be a friend. “It’s good to see you, too. I schedule a lot of events here, so we should see a lot of each other.”

  “Good. And I hope you know that I’m available to help in any way I can. Don’t hesitate to ask.”

  Wreath relaxed at the calm, friendly tone in his voice. “Thank you. I will, but you have to know that your staff is the best I’ve ever worked with. They’ll make your job easy.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.”

  She searched for something to say. “So where are you staying?”

  Micah chuckled and tugged on his ear. “Uh. Room 26.”

  Her eyes widened, and she swallowed a laugh. “You mean the small suite up in the rafters of the main house?”

  “Technically it’s the third floor, but yes, that would be the place.”

  “Are you comfortable in there?”

  “Sure. It has everything I need. It’s quiet and makes for an easy commute to work.” His cell phone chirped. “Excuse me a minute.” He stood and moved to the end of the room.