Plantation Christmas Weddings

by Barnes, Sylvia

  “No, you can’t. There’s not enough time. It’s only a week until the wedding. I’ll never find another one like this and get it altered. It was a one-of-a-kind designed for me.”

  Wreath clutched her phone closer, as if she could offer comfort through the connection. “Grace, is it your dress? What happened?”

  “I got a call from the bridal shop this morning. She said there’d been a small fire in the back room where she stores the completed gowns, and four of the dresses were destroyed. Mine was one of them. Wreath, what am I going to do?”

  Wreath’s heart pinched tight in her chest. Nothing, short of being left at the altar, was as traumatic for a bride. “We’ll think of something.”

  “But what? If it was just a regular wedding, I could find something else. I’m not that picky about the dress. But this has to be an antebellum gown, hooped skirt, historic design. I can’t just walk in a store and buy another one.”

  “No, but we might be able to rent one.” Another idea surfaced, one that left a fruitcake-sized knot in her chest. She’d consider it only as a last resort. “Grace, just sit tight and try not to worry. Let me make some calls and see what I can come up with. I’ll call you back around noon, and we’ll see where we are.”

  Bonnie stood at the desk waiting expectantly. “Was that a panicked bride I heard you talking to? What’s wrong now? Wrong napkins? The candles aren’t white enough?”

  Wreath shook her head. “That was Grace. Her gown was destroyed last night in a fire at the bridal shop.”

  “Oh no. Bless her heart. How awful. This is a first for us. Where do you want to start?”

  “You start with local vendors, here and in Vicksburg, then try Jackson and Baton Rouge.” She stood and glanced toward the storeroom, near the back of the building. “I’m going to check on something first.”

  The large cool and dry room, once a classroom in the old church, now stored oversized linens, delicate arrangements, and one very beautiful, very gently used antebellum wedding gown. Her heart pounding against her ribs, she pulled open the doors to the cabinet. Once a year she had it cleaned and then gently placed it back in the closet. She wasn’t sure why, other than it had been her ultimate fantasy dress—designed in her imagination when she was twelve. Too precious a part of her dream to let go of yet too full of painful memories to look at.

  Dress bag unzipped, she carefully slipped the bodice of the gown free then tugged out part of the full skirt. It was a beautiful dress. A quintessential antebellum gown. Grace would look perfect in it. But giving it to someone else wrenched her heart. She’d always believed, somewhere deep inside, she’d wear it someday. But now, looking at it, she realized it was all wrong for the woman she was today. If she were getting married today, she’d wear something sleek, simple, grown up, not a fairytale princess gown better suited for a Cinderella than a successful businesswoman.

  “I thought I’d find you here.” Bonnie came and stopped at her side. “Are you going to offer it to her?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Wreath, don’t you think it’s time you stopped holding on to the past and step into the future?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Bonnie grabbed a small piece of the skirt and shook it. “This. Hanging on to that dress, the big vision of your perfect day. Let it go. You have so many more things to look forward to. And in the meantime, you’re missing someone right under your nose who would sweep you off your feet if you’d give him half a chance.”

  Wreath shook her head. “You’re not making any sense.”

  “Micah. In case you haven’t noticed, he’s got it bad for you. And he’s a great guy. Handsome, successful, kind, thoughtful, and dependable. Yet you treat him as if he’s just some ordinary Joe not worthy of your attention.”

  Wreath gently tucked the skirt back inside the bag. What would her friend say if she told her that falling in love with Micah was not only possible but probable? Trouble was she didn’t know if it was love or just deep appreciation. “I know Micah is a great guy, Bonnie. It’s just that he was buddies with Jack, he introduced us, and I’m not sure I feel the same way about him that I did when I was marrying Jack.”

  “Are you saying you’re in love with Micah?”

  “Maybe, I don’t know.”

  “Well, when will you know?”

  “Bonnie, you can’t put a schedule on something like that.”

  “And you can’t wait for some magical emotion to appear either. You need to sit down and start a list of the things you want in a husband then see how many of those things Micah satisfies. Write down all the things you know and love about him. Take a good hard look, because I think you’re so blinded by your fantasy about Jack and that stupid wedding that you can’t see what’s right in front of your face.” Bonnie took a deep breath. “Has he kissed you yet?”

  Wreath turned away, rubbing her forehead. “Sort of.”

  “Sort of? Friend, when a man like that kisses a woman, there shouldn’t be any questions left behind.”

  “Yes, he kissed me. But it was just a peck, the kiss of a friend.”

  “Did you kiss him back?”

  Wreath shrugged. “Sort of.”

  “Oh good grief.” Bonnie crossed her arms and glared. “Maybe the man is waiting for some signal, some sign from you on how you feel. A gentleman like Micah isn’t going to push his attention on someone who isn’t interested. Are you interested?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well you’d better find out, because you’re going to lose that guy, and you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”

  Bonnie stormed off, leaving Wreath with a sinking feeling in her chest and a flood of unshed tears welling up behind her eyes.

  Chapter 8

  Wreath turned her attention back to the wedding gown. She and Bonnie never disagreed. They saw eye to eye on everything. Her idea had some merit, but she didn’t have time to devote to listing Micah’s good points right now.

  But Bonnie was right about one thing. It was time to let go of the fantasy surrounding this dress. She’d grown and moved on. She picked up her cell and dialed Grace’s number, surprised that her decision didn’t hurt as much as she’d expected it to.

  Within ten minutes, Grace was at the shop bubbling over with joy. “Oh, Wreath, it’s more beautiful than anything I had ever imagined. But are you sure you want to loan it to me? I mean someday you’ll want to wear it again.”

  Seeing Grace’s delight in the dress dispelled any lingering doubts in Wreath’s mind. “I’m sure. I think it should fit you, too. We’re not that different in size. I’ve already talked to a seamstress I know who’ll be able to alter it in plenty of time.”

  Grace touched the skirt gently then moved to give Wreath a hug. “I’m so sorry for what you went through, but I think it might have been a blessing.” She pulled back and looked her in the eyes. “Wreath, you could have made a huge mistake. He wasn’t the one for you. Praise God, He saved you from that.”

  “I suppose. I hadn’t thought about it like that.”

  “How else could you think of it, once the shock wore off, I mean? The man must have been a self-centered jerk or worse.”

  “He was, but he was exciting and handsome and—slightly dangerous.” How could she explain what Jack had done for her, the way he’d made her feel like every moment was a thrill?

  Grace went still, and Wreath looked at her. There was a puzzled and sad expression on her face. “Wreath, why have you saved this dress for so long?”

  “I guess it was a reminder of my dream. My fantasy wedding. My Prince Charming. Silly, huh?”

  “Extremely.”

  That’s not what she’d expected Grace to say. “Excuse me?” How dare she trample on her dreams.

  “Wreath, that sense of excitement and danger, that’s not love. Those feelings only last a short while. They’re the kind of feelings we have when we’re young and foolish, when we think love is supposed to be a never-ending surge
of emotions.” Grace took her hand. “Love is deeper than that. It’s two people who care about each other, who want what’s best for the other and are willing to make sacrifices to ensure it happens. Marriage isn’t a thrill ride, Wreath. It’s a long up-and-down road. Even the vows remind a couple that there are troubles ahead. ‘For richer, for poorer.’ ‘In sickness and in health.’ ”

  “But how do you know he’s the one?”

  Grace squeezed her hands. “He should make you feel content, special. Someone who listens, who enjoys just watching you. Someone who, when you place your hand in his, you know you’re safe, cherished, and protected.”

  With every word Grace spoke, one face came to mind. Micah’s. Micah listening to her stories about brides, knowing he could care less. Micah drawing her out into the world again with his Christmas adventures. Micah always keeping his promises, always being there, always standing behind her.

  The feelings she had for Micah were different from those she’d felt for Jack, so she’d dismissed them as mere friendship. But what if she’d been so busy looking for excitement that she’d mistaken her feelings for something else? Micah had carved out a place in her heart. But was it love? Micah had asked her about the day after the honeymoon, when the fantasy was over and real life began. Who would she want to spend her life with, wake up to every morning, find comfort and contentment in each night? Only one name came to mind. His.

  Wreath entered the old sanctuary and stopped at the west-facing windows. The late afternoon sunlight filtered through the stained glass, sending ribbons of color spilling across the worn wooden floor where the pulpit had once stood.

  She’d never bothered to ask the Lord what His plans were for her life. Oh, she’d returned to her faith, but this was one stronghold she’d kept jealously guarded. Her shattered fantasy, her dream wedding. She’d held God responsible for that when she should have blamed Jack. Now she saw it for what it was. Her mistake but his decision.

  It was time to give up the past. Time to let go of childish dreams and look forward with grown-up, realistic eyes. Closing her eyes, Wreath spread her hands wide, palms up, and invited the Lord to look into her heart and set her free. She allowed her heart to be silent, her mind open to whatever words the Lord had for her. She waited, letting go one at a time of the old chains that had bound her to the past. Her dreams, her expectations, her notions of love.

  Slowly, she felt the burden of the past lift away, replaced with a sense of freedom. Peace swirled gently from deep within, bringing with it a new discovery. She loved Micah Broussard.

  She smiled, pressing her fingers to her lips. She was starting a new phase in her life, the past having no place any longer. She’d start by getting rid of the things that kept her connected to the past.

  In her office, she sat down at the computer and pulled up her document files, selecting the wedding folder she’d foolishly kept. One click sent it to the trash bin. Next, she opened her picture files and clicked on the folder with Jack’s pictures. Her screen filled with his image. And for the first time, she didn’t see a handsome rogue who’d made her heart beat faster, but the man he really was. A selfish charmer, a man with no regard for others, a man lacking in character. She looked into his eyes and saw no warmth, no compassion, no depth. Another pair of eyes filled her vision. A pair of blue eyes, warm with affection, sparkling with laughter, intense with compassion. Micah’s eyes. What a fool she’d been. No better than one of her Bridezillas. So caught up in herself and a meaningless fantasy, she couldn’t see the real thing when it came along.

  It ended here. She moved her cursor to close out the file. A noise from behind drew her attention. Micah strolled into the room. Before she could speak, his expression hardened. His mouth pulled into a hard line and the muscles in his jaw flexed rapidly. His blue eyes darkened to navy. A shaft of fear shot through her. She followed his gaze and realized he was looking at her computer screen. Jack. She gasped and shook her head. “Micah I was just…”

  His gaze scorched through her. “Longing for the past?” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “I don’t get it. Explain it to me, Wreath.”

  She stood and took a step forward. “I was just…”

  “Stop. What is it about the bad boys, the Jacks of the world that you women can’t get enough of ? They use you, they break your hearts, and you keep coming back for more. You whine and complain that all the good men are taken, but when a decent, God-fearing man stands in front of you with their heart in their hands, you brush them aside in favor of the abuse these jerks can dish out.” He took a step forward. “Explain it to me, Wreath. I want to understand.”

  “Micah I was going to delete them. I didn’t understand before, but now—”

  Micah took her shoulders in his hands and jerked her close. “Understand this.” He pulled her closer, capturing her mouth with his, kissing her with an intensity and passion that stole her breath and left her weak and shaking. He set her away, his blue eyes filled with anger and something else, sadness. She grabbed the desk to keep from falling. Micah took another step back, dragging his hand across his mouth.

  “Decide, Wreath. Make up your mind what you want, because I might not be around if you take too long.” He turned and stormed out, shutting the door with a loud bang.

  Wreath sank into the chair as the tears spilled over. Her gaze landed on the computer screen and the picture of Jack. She deleted the folder with one firm press of a key, wiping his memory from her mind and shedding fresh tears for what her foolishness might have lost.

  Chapter 9

  Micah unlocked his car and reached for the door handle. His hand shook. Anger surged through him with a force he’d only experienced once before—the day Jack had left Wreath humiliated and heartbroken at the altar. He’d ached to plant a fist in the man’s face. He’d done what he could that day, but there’d been nothing he could do to ease Wreath’s broken heart. His own had been shredded as well. He’d longed to comfort her but lacked the right. His guilt over not protecting her from his friend had eaten away at him. He learned from his sister that when a woman’s heart was involved, there was little anyone could do to change her mind. Love blinded her to the guy’s faults. She became an expert at rationalizing his behavior. His sister had come to her senses before the relationship had progressed beyond the engagement. Wreath hadn’t been so fortunate.

  Micah shut the door and locked the car again. He was in no condition to drive. Maybe a brisk walk would calm him down. He started off down the street. He shouldn’t have lost his temper with Wreath. His behavior hadn’t earned him any points. Kissing her was the last thing he’d intended to do. He’d wanted to do that since he’d first seen her again, but kissing her in anger wasn’t the way he’d wanted to tell her how he felt. Whatever slim chance he had with Wreath had gone up in smoke, but seeing Jack’s picture on her computer screen had set off a wave of jealousy and anger that he’d been unable to control.

  The Lord had given him a second chance to win her heart, and he’d failed. It was time to accept the inevitable and let her go. He rubbed his forehead, amused at the irony. He’d scolded Wreath for not letting go of her old feelings for Jack, and he was guilty of the same thing. He’d loved Wreath for years, holding out hope, but now it was time for him to let go, as well. There was only a week until Christmas. He’d make sure Helen worked with Wreath on the final details of the Donovan wedding. He’d keep busy elsewhere. After the wedding, they’d have less reason to see each other. And then there was the e-mail he’d received the other day. One he’d mentally dismissed but now might consider. His employer had offered him a new position. A chance to put a couple thousand miles between him and Wreath. But he doubted distance would change anything.

  The day of Grace’s wedding passed in a blur of activity. The weather cooperated by delivering a warm and sunny day. The detailed planning made for a hiccup-free event, from the ceremony under the pergola to the tossing of the bouquet from the front gallery of the mansion.

 
Wreath had been too busy to think about Micah, though she’d caught sight of him a few times, her heart aching for what she might have lost forever.

  She’d paused only once, when the ceremony had started. She’d listened to the vows, letting them sink into her spirit. She wanted to say those words to Micah, but how could she convince him of her love? Simply saying the words would ring hollow now. A new idea had formed in her mind. One she intended to follow through on soon. Maybe words were the answer after all. Just not spoken words.

  Micah walked into his office, the stress of the day weighing heavily on his shoulders. Grace and Brian’s antebellum wedding had been a triumph, thanks to Wreath’s skills and his staff’s expertise.

  He sat down at his desk and swiveled around to look out the window toward the pergola. The wedding guests had left and the staff was breaking down the canopies and clearing away the chairs and tables. He caught a glimpse of Wreath as she walked toward the courtyard.

  Seeing Wreath but not being near her had been like a pebble in his shoe all day. She’d looked like an angel today in a long-sleeved navy-blue dress that skimmed her curves and gave her creamy skin a glow. Her brown eyes sparkled, attesting to her passion for coordinating weddings. And he had no idea how he’d be able to stay here and see her, work with her, and not go mad.

  Dragging his hand over his face, he turned back to his computer. The e-mail from his old boss glared back at him. He had an out. A way to do what he loved—manage a small hotel—but do it away from Wreath. Far away. He had to make up his mind. Soon.

  He picked up his suit jacket and slipped it on. He needed sleep. He closed up and headed out to his car. He stepped out of the building only to see Wreath walking across the parking lot. He started to call out to her but decided against it. It was time to let her go.