With a surge of admiration, Annabelle wondered when her mother had become so wise to the ways of the heart. “Thanks for listening, Mom.”
“You’re welcome. Try to get some rest.”
The door closed, and Annabelle dutifully began to count sheep. She owed it to her mother not to look like a puffy-eyed, heartbroken discard on one of the happiest days of Belle’s life. Annabelle sniffled. After tomorrow, however, she couldn’t make any promises.
Chapter Seventeen
INDEED, IT WAS A beautiful day, and Belle was a blushingly lovely bride dressed in pink, with white flowers in her hair.
Martin looked dashing in black, and Annabelle was reminded of the day she had watched Clay being fitted for a similar jacket. The day he had stepped in to save her from certain humiliation and possible ruin. The day she had first begun to see him in a different light. In retrospect, though, he had probably believed her to be a thief and had intervened only to keep his father’s name out of the incident. She burned with shame at how grossly she’d misinterpreted nearly every move the man had made. With great effort, she forced her mind back to the moment at hand, and pasted a smile on her face as the minister called everyone to the front of the church.
She gave her mother a quick kiss and hugged Martin. He flashed her a regretful smile that said her mother had confided the extent of her feelings for his son. Poor man, his eyes kept darting to the door of the church on the hope, she knew, that Clay would somehow materialize.
But it was not to be.
Since the wedding party consisted only of the bride and groom, the minister, the organist, the photographer, and Annabelle, the wedding march was dispensed with, but Annabelle teared up anyway as soon as the music began. Her heart was full of love for her mother, sweet memories of her father, and hope that she herself would someday find someone to share her life. Who knew that her trip to Atlanta would bring such a revelation? Her tears fell unchecked as the minister began the service.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here on this blessed day to witness the union of Martin Castleberry and Belle Coakley. Marriage is a holy institution, not to be entered into lightly, but with reverence and with love.”
Belle and Martin smiled at each other and clasped hands. With a rush of affection, Annabelle decided that her father would approve of the marriage, would be happy to know that Belle was no longer alone, no longer lonely.
“If anyone knows why this man and this woman should not be married, then let him speak now or forever hold his peace.”
“Stop the wedding!”
Annabelle turned, along with everyone else, at the sound of Clay’s booming voice. The organist blasted out a crash of wrong notes, then silence burst around them.
Clay stood at the back of the church, dressed for traveling in casual slacks and shirt. His face was an immobile mask. Annabelle’s heart lodged in her throat, followed by quick resentment that he would mar the day for his father by creating a spectacle.
The minister peered over his spectacles. “Who are you?”
“I’m his son,” Clay said, striding toward them. “And I can’t in good conscience see this wedding take place—”
“Clay—” Martin began.
“Without giving my father my blessing.”
Annabelle inhaled sharply in pleasant surprise.
Clay stopped in front of Martin and gave him an apologetic smile. “If you’ll have it, that is.”
Martin’s face creased in a wide grin and he clapped Clay on the back. “You’ve made me a very happy man, son. I’m glad you made it.”
The men embraced heartily, and over his father’s shoulder, Clay’s gaze met hers. Annabelle was happy for father and son, but their reconciliation didn’t change the things he’d accused her of, the things he believed her to be. She glanced away, her cheeks stinging from dried tears.
As the minister proceeded with the ceremony, she tried to concentrate on the words being exchanged, but she felt Clay’s silent presence just as tangibly as that first day on the train from the airport, crowding her mind and her body. Her eyes burned, and breathing became increasingly difficult, but she scrupulously avoided making eye contact with him across the aisle.
She silently urged the minister to hurry, but the man seemed eager to compensate for the small audience by bestowing many glad tidings, words of wisdom, and prayers upon the happy couple. Finally he pronounced them man and wife. “You may kiss the bride.”
Annabelle stepped back so the photographer could get a good shot, and bumped into someone. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, but before she even turned around, she instinctively knew it was Clay. She steeled herself for his intense gaze, and looked up.
“It was my fault,” he said, his blue eyes studying her face. “Can you ever forgive me?”
She pulled a little laugh from thin air. “It was only a little bump—no harm done.”
He pressed his lips together. “I meant all of it, this entire mess was of my making. I behaved abominably, and I wouldn’t blame you if you never spoke to me again.”
So he wanted them to be friends, or at least friendly. For their parents’ sake, no doubt, but she’d rather not have to pretend. Besides, the more time she spent around Clay, the more likely the chance he’d notice that her feelings for him ran deeper than “friendly.” And she’d suffered enough humiliation at his hand.
“Then we have an understanding,” she said lightly. “I won’t speak to you, and you won’t blame me.”
He flinched. “I deserve that. But if you won’t talk to me, then please listen. I’m sorry for doubting you, for doubting your motives. I’m so accustomed to everyone around me having an angle, I’d forgotten that there are still honest, caring people in the world.”
She swallowed hard.
“I wanted to believe that you were capable of those things I accused you of, because I wanted to find a reason to dismiss the way I’d begun to feel about you.”
Her heart jerked crazily, but she refused to allow her imagination to take flight. He only wanted for the two of them to be on civil terms. Clay picked up her hand gently and squeezed it. At his warm, powerful touch, all the misunderstandings and hateful words faded from memory. With a sinking heart, she knew she’d take whatever measure of friendship he had to offer, and would keep her feelings for him tucked away in her heart. In time, perhaps she could look upon him as a mere friend. At least they wouldn’t have to be adversaries.
“You once said that in my job, I was a glorified matchmaker,” he said. “That I knew when two people belonged together.”
He lifted her hand to his mouth for the briefest kiss, and her eyes widened in surprise—and anticipation.
“I believe you and I belong together, Annabelle, and even if you don’t feel the same, I had to come back and let you know how I feel. It’s the least I owe you after the way I treated you.” His chest rose with a deep inhale, then he gave her a smile so tender that moisture welled in her eyes. “Your heart calls out to mine, Annabelle. Heaven knows that I don’t deserve another chance with you, but if you’ll grant me one, I’d be the happiest man alive.”
Emotion clogged her throat. The words that escaped her were hoarse and hesitant. “But you said you don’t believe in happy endings.”
He cupped her chin and searched her face. “I love you, Annabelle. Do you have any similar feelings for me?”
She swallowed hard, then nodded tearfully. “Yes.”
His breath whooshed out. “Then I’m a believer.” He lowered his head and she met his lips for a kiss so intense, so full of promise and passion that she forgot they were standing in a church with an audience until her mother’s voice penetrated her senses.
“Annabelle!”
They parted in time for Annabelle to see something hurtling toward her. Out of pure instinct, she held out her hands…and caught her mother’s bouquet.
Epilogue
ANNABELLE LIFTED her glass of champagne toward Belle and Martin. “Happy anniversary!”
“Here, here,” Clay said, joining in the toast to mark the one-year milestone of their parents’ wedding. With his free hand, he squeezed Annabelle’s shoulders.
She smiled up at the man she loved with all her heart. With a little start, she noted an ease of tension around his deep blue eyes that even she hadn’t been aware of before. Realization dawned. Although Clay had wholeheartedly supported their parents’ wedding and hadn’t voiced any doubts since, deep down he must have harbored some measure of concern that his father would disappoint Belle and renege on his promise to her...on his promise to all of them. Unbeknownst to Annabelle, Clay must have set this date, their parents’ one-year anniversary, as a benchmark in his mind, because none of Martin’s marriages since his first had made it past this point. The fact that Clay had been figuratively holding his breath tugged on her heartstrings—he so wanted to believe in his father.
And now he did.
When Martin came over to hug his son, Annabelle happily released him, gratified that in the past year, father and son had developed the kind of relationship she knew Clay had always longed for.
Belle met her for a fierce hug. “I’m so glad you’re here, my love.”
“I wouldn’t have missed this, Mom.”
“We’re all counting the days until your employment contract is up with the state.”
“Forty-three days,” Annabelle said with a laugh. She, too, was counting, and her anxiety level grew every time she X’d another day off her calendar.
Belle shot a glance toward Clay. “Clay, especially, can’t wait until you’re free.”
Annabelle blushed. “Clay and I haven’t talked about what will happen when my contract expires. I like my house. And things have been good—he flies in every other weekend or so, and we Skype when he’s in Europe.”
“Still, it’s not the same as being together all the time.”
“I know,” Annabelle said, “but I’m not sure we should rock the boat.” Her stomach churned at the lie...what she wasn’t sure about was whether Clay had gotten over his aversion to marriage. She knew he loved her, but marriage—that was something else altogether. And she’d detected a recent change in his demeanor. He’d grown more quiet and distracted, which she’d attributed to an important deal he was trying to close that seemed to be requiring a lot of his time. But when she’d asked about it, he had been evasive about the details, citing confidentiality. And the last couple of times he’d visited, she’d caught him staring at her calendar where she was counting down the days of her contract. Was he feeling pressured?
Second guessing a happily ever after?
And truth be told, she still had her own issues with marriage and whether she was suited for it. She couldn’t imagine not being with Clay the rest of her life...but every day she saw firsthand how marriage changed people.
But not Martin and Belle, thank goodness, who were even more in love now than a year ago.
“What a beautiful cake,” Annabelle said, nodding to the gaily decorated layer cake on the table next to the pool where they were cooking out.
“The Nelsons sent it,” Belle said. “They’re the best neighbors Martin and I could ever have.”
Annabelle smiled, happy the young family who had moved into the home she’d grown up in had adopted Martin and Belle as grandparents.
Especially since she knew they were both eager for grandchildren of their own.
She lifted her glass for another sip of champagne, telling herself she shouldn’t be thinking about anything today except the happy occasion at hand.
“Let’s get those steaks on,” Martin said, moving toward the massive grill he commandeered whenever they cooked out. Clay seemed especially eager to help his dad. Annabelle tried not to feel slighted that he seemed to be avoiding her on this trip...after all, today wasn’t about them and their relationship.
She set aside her apprehension and focused on enjoying the evening. Belle and Martin were planning an extended trip to Los Angeles where Martin was filming a movie of the week. Belle was atwitter with excitement at the stars they would be socializing with while they were there, and how some of the female celebrities she’d idolized were in reality so down to earth, and had asked for her recipe for Tomato Cheese Pie.
After a dinner and dessert that left them all stuffed, she and Clay said goodnight to the happy couple and climbed into Clay’s pickup to head toward his Buckhead condo. Over the past year, he’d asked for her help to make the place more homey, but she still felt like a visitor there...unless she was in his arms in his king-sized bed.
She studied his handsome profile in the low lighting of the cab and gave in to the thrill that barbed through her every time she looked at him. Even after a year, he still moved her. Her body hummed in anticipation of their lovemaking later tonight—seeing each other so infrequently certainly kept the fires burning in that department. There were no questions about their physical compatibility...it was other areas of their relationship that she’d suddenly begun to question.
“It was a nice night, wasn’t it?” he asked.
“So nice,” she agreed. “Our parents are lucky to have found each other—they seem so simpatico in every respect.”
A few months ago, he might’ve reached over to clasp her hand and say they, too, were simpatico. He did reach over to wrap his big hand around hers, but he remained silent.
Annabelle’s heart squeezed. Then she looked out the window and squinted. “Are we heading north?”
He stared straight ahead. “I need to check on something at the property—do you mind?”
“Of course not.” But unease blipped in her stomach—was he trying to delay being alone with her in the condo? She squashed her unsettling thoughts, conceding she hadn’t seen the property in months. Since that first interrupted kiss next to the mossy log, they’d shared lots of stolen moments there in the grass...next to the creek...in the grass...in the grass.
At this late hour, though, he probably wanted to check on the irrigation system that fed the stands of bamboo that were proliferating on the land. He’d recently provided a sample of the bamboo to Zoo Atlanta for feeding the giant pandas who were finicky about their greens. Apparently, the bamboo had been a hit because zoo officials had contacted him to see how much more he could provide.
While she had been excited about the novelty of the project, she’d wondered if it had supplanted Clay’s plans for building a house there someday, if he was rethinking his future.
When they pulled onto the property and bumped along a dirt road, she was reminded how dark it could be away from the lights of the traffic and the city. The stars above them were like holes punched into an inky blue canopy. The headlights of the truck spot-lighted tall grass, rolling rises, and towering bamboo stands that had grown exponentially since the last time she’d seen them. She rolled down her window and leaned out to listen to the crickets and the grasshoppers that never slept. It was a perfect summer night—still warm from the day’s heat, but enough of a breeze to keep the humidity at bay.
“I’d almost forgotten how pretty it is,” she said, thinking how much she would miss it if...
If it turned out that she and Clay weren’t simpatico.
He slowed the truck to a stop next to a metal box the size of a small chest. He turned off the engine, but left the headlights on to guide his way to the box. After unlocking a small door on the box, he reached inside to pull a switch. A few yards away, a newly erected dusk to dawn light on a tall pole buzzed to life, illuminating the ground beneath it.
Annabelle climbed out of the truck and stared at the large area that had been staked off with yellow tape. “What’s this?”
“My house.”
Hurt stabbed her. So Clay was moving ahead with his plans, and he hadn’t even told her. She couldn’t look at him.
“Actually,” he added, his voice sounding hoarse, “it’s our house...hopefully.”
Her heart beat a tattoo against her breastbone as she swung her head around
. “Hopefully?”
He bit into his lip and took her hand. “Annabelle, I know how you feel about getting married...and I’ve always felt that way, too.”
“Clay, I—”
“Please let me finish before I lose my nerve.”
She clamped her mouth shut. Clay, lose his nerve?
“I know this sounds old-fashioned to you, but I don’t want a long-distance relationship, and I don’t want us to just live together.” His throat convulsed. “I’d like for you to move back here when your work contract expires, but if not, I’m prepared to move to Michigan. So I thought I’d better ask before I broke ground on the foundation.”
Her mind swirled with his revelations. “Ask what?”
“Seeing our parents celebrate their anniversary today confirmed what I want for us.” He lowered to one knee and pulled a small velvet box from his pocket.
Annabelle inhaled sharply and her blood rushed in her ears.
He opened the box to reveal a sparkling diamond-studded band to perfectly complement her mother’s engagement ring. “Annabelle Coakley, will you marry me?”
She was speechless. A few minutes ago she was sure she was about to have her heart broken. And now, her heart was so big in her chest, it felt as if it might burst anyway. Any doubts she had about matrimony disintegrated when she looked into his eyes. How could she ever have thought she would be satisfied with anything less than being married to this man? She wanted to be legally bound to him...for better or for worse...for richer, for poorer...in sickness and in health...until death parted them...after many, many years in each other’s arms.
Still, she couldn’t resist toying with the man a bit—after all, she had a reputation to maintain.
She crossed her arms. “Marry you?”
He nodded solemnly, his expression anxious.
“Would I have to sign a prenuptial agreement?”
“No.”
“Would I have to change my name?”
“No.”
“And I wouldn’t have to move?”
Stop the Wedding! Page 18
