Jennifer nodded. “And didn’t Raylene look elegant in her bridesmaid’s dress?”
He looped his arm over her shoulders and drew her close. “All I noticed about that dress was that it matched your eyes.”
She snuggled happily in his embrace. “Dear Miss Bessie, she went all out for the reception. Three striped marquees on her front lawn, the string quartet—”
“And Tommy Bennett and the Mountaineers.”
She smiled up at him. “I only stepped on your toes once during our wedding waltz.”
“Maybe there’s hope for you yet. I have to confess I’ve never seen a wedding cake quite like the one Grover made for us. Seven white layers and three of chocolate. The man’s a genius.”
She nodded. “Miss Bessie’s freezing the top two layers for us for our first anniversary.”
“That Miss Bessie is something else.” He shook his head in amazement, remembering. “I don’t know how we can accept her wedding gift.”
“The guest house? She’ll be heartbroken if we turn it down. Besides, as long as we live there, we can help look after her.” Jennifer glanced at her watch. “I suppose your folks are back in Florida by now.”
“And we should be landing in Spokane soon.”
“Spokane?” She sat upright. “I thought we were flying straight through to Vancouver.”
Dylan grinned at her like a kid at Christmas. “Don’t worry. We won’t miss our Alaskan cruise. But I have some people I want you to meet first. I’ve rented a car to drive there.”
“Dylan Blackburn, what are you up to?”
“There are some people I want you to meet,” he repeated cryptically.
A few hours later, they had crossed the Montana state line in their rental car and turned off Highway 2 onto a secondary road.
“You know someone in Montana?” Dylan’s secretive behavior had Jennifer thoroughly mystified.
“Not exactly.”
He slowed the car, turned and drove beneath an arched sign with “Longhorn Ranch” burned into the wood in foot-high letters.
Jennifer bolted upright in surprise. “This is Wade Garrett’s ranch.”
Dylan nodded smugly. “Wade’s expecting us. He’s invited us to spend the night.”
Their car traversed the long drive, and Jennifer caught her first glimpse of the century-old, two-story log house, just as Wade had described it in his letters to her.
“I wonder if he ever found the wife he wanted to raise his boy,” she said.
Dylan pulled the car in front of the house and nodded toward the front porch. “Looks like he did.”
Jennifer gazed at the people waiting on the steps, and her mouth dropped open in surprise. Wade Garrett, tall and lanky with a weathered tan and kind eyes, stood with one arm around his son, a thin child with the promise of his father’s good looks. Wade’s other arm was draped around a beautiful woman wearing a denim maternity jumper and a turtleneck red sweater.
Jennifer shrieked and grabbed Dylan’s arm. “It’s her. The real Jennifer! She’s alive!”
“She calls herself Rachel now.”
Dylan stopped the car and turned to her with a warm grin. “You thought she died, but she survived. She’s alive and well—thanks to you. If you hadn’t pulled her from that burning train—”
She slid down in her seat. “But how can I face her after stealing her identity?”
Dylan hugged her. “No problem. She thinks you did her a favor.”
“By taking her name and identification?”
“By putting your name and Wade Garrett’s in her backpack. When she gained consciousness, she had amnesia and thought she was Rachel O’Riley. The authorities contacted Wade from the note in her bag, and the rest, as they say, is history. Rachel and Wade were married last Christmas.”
Jennifer smiled at him and said, “You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?”
His eyes glowed warm with love and desire, and her heart filled with happiness. She placed her hand against his cheek, and he turned his head and pressed his lips to her palm.
“I promise,” she said, “that I will never lie to you again.”
“And I promise,” he said in a voice husky with emotion, “that I will always trust you. Now let’s greet the Garretts. They’re anxious to meet you.”
Jennifer left the car and raced toward the porch steps.
Rachel welcomed her with a hug, then pulled back and stared at her with eyes so like her own. “It looks like everything’s worked out for the best, hasn’t it?”
Jennifer glanced at Dylan, shaking hands with Wade and tousling Jordan’s hair. Her heart swelled with love and contentment, and she linked arms with Rachel. “I couldn’t agree more.”
Together, the women who had exchanged identities to find happiness they’d never dreamed possible, followed their husbands into the house.
ISBN: 978-1-4603-5060-7
STRANGER IN HIS ARMS
Copyright © 2001 by Charlotte H. Douglas
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* Identity Swap
Stranger In His Arms Page 19
