Mr. Wrong

by Taryn A. Taylor

  Sara couldn't stop the happiness that filled her. She winked back at Larry.

  But as she got closer to Larry.

  She saw him.

  Her eyes locked with his, and she felt like she couldn’t breathe for a second. And looking away wasn't an option.

  Of course he would be here. For a second, she'd almost forgotten about him.

  His blue eyes burned back at her. The force of them scorching into the deepest part of her. Like the blocked rays of sunlight after a bleak month of winter.

  He wore black pants and a simple button down white shirt with a red tie and dress jacket. And, as always, his boots.

  His lip twitched into a half-smile. The smile he used to give her when he was referring to a secret they shared.

  She stumbled.

  But she didn't fall. She quickly took her place across from Larry, next to the podium and didn't look back.

  Bishop Archibald nodded to her and then smiled at Martha as she took her place next to Larry.

  Sara couldn't stop the pounding of her heart. He was looking at her. She could feel it.

  The music stopped, and Martha slipped her hand into Larry's.

  Sara tried to focus on Martha and Larry, not on Beau.

  After the, not surprising, rather long-winded ceremony from Bishop Archibald, Sara hugged the bride and groom.

  Brother Archibald waved her to him and lowered his voice as those around them congratulated Martha and Larry. He peered down at her hand. “My dear, I heard you were engaged." He spoke in his soft, apostolic sounding voice.

  She looked around, and Beau was gone. Sara knew the Bishop would know. He took pride in keeping tabs on the unengaged and engaged at the institute. She smiled. "Yep."

  He put his arm around her shoulders. "Pretty ring. Very pretty. I am so happy for you, my dear. Mrs. Archibald wants you to know that we plan on being at the wedding."

  Sara stared down at her ring. It was pretty. It didn't feel personal to her. She had never had a chance to tell him what she liked. But . . . it was enough.

  “Congratulations, dear.” He took his arm off her shoulders. “It seems these things always have a way of working themselves out.” He lightly tsked his tongue. “Though it will be sad Brother Hennings won’t be around to teach next semester, eh?”

  Sara felt herself turning red. She didn’t know that. "Oh."

  Bishop frowned. “Did I upset you, Sara? That wasn’t my intent.”

  Sara waved the air too quickly. “No, Bishop. I’m fine.” She tried her best to smile. “I’ve got to get on the road.”

  “Just remember, Sara. Beau is a good man. Be safe on those roads, sometimes the ones that look like a clear path, are the ones that put you in the gravest danger.” He cleared his throat and turned away from her, greeting another guest.

  She didn't move. Why would he say that to her? She had half a mind to tell him that he should ask Beau about his new girlfriend. The room felt hot to her and she scanned the crowd for Martha and Larry. She had to leave.

  They were seated at a long table. Servers were putting plates in front of them. Guests were lined up in front of the table to talk to them.

  Sara quickly went behind them and put her hands on both of their shoulders. “Congratulations you guys.” She squeezed their shoulders, hugging them to her.

  “Have some food,” Larry said, gesturing to the table. “It cost us enough for an army.”

  Martha sighed. “His manners.”

  Sara smiled and scanned the room for Beau. "No. I think I’m going to get on the road.”

  “Okay.” Martha gently touched her cheek. She whispered, “You are so lovely, dear.”

  She squeezed her hand, again. “Thanks, Martha.”

  Larry grinned at her. "I have one thing to tell you."

  Martha beamed. "You will like this."

  "Okay."

  “I’ve been taking the discussions. Even got ole Martha here sitting in on them.” His eyes sparkled.

  Her heart lightened. “That is awesome." She gave them both another hug. "Get her converted by the time I get back."

  He chuckled. “I plan to.”

  Sara straightened. “Merry Christmas you guys.”

  “Merry Christmas,” they both said it in unison.

  She wound her way through the cafeteria and into the decorated hallway. Sara tried to imagine herself in a place like this with Jonathon someday. She smiled at Frank. “Merry Christmas.”

  “Merry Christmas to you, too. Be safe now."

  Sara waved and thought of what Bishop Archibald had said about roads. Weird. He was always so philosophical. She pulled her coat closer and tried to quickly pick the right spots on the sidewalk to get to her car.

  “Sara.”

  Chapter 40

  Sara jerked back and felt her feet slip beneath her.

  Immediately Beau was beside her. His strong arms lifted her. “Are you all right?”

  She pulled away from him. "I'm fine."

  “I didn’t mean to make you fall.” His words were strained and the wrinkle between his eyes was bent into a frown. “I’m sorry.”

  Sara inspected his face and then turned for her car. “I’m going home.”

  “I . . .” His voice faltered.

  Sara flung her head back around to him. “Where are you going?”

  He paused. “What do you mean?”

  “Bishop Archibald said you won’t be teaching next semester. Where are you going?”

  Beau hesitated for a second. “Africa.”

  This was a surprise. Why would he go to Africa after everything with his wife there? Then it dawned on her. “Is she going with you?”

  Beau shrugged. “She’ll be in charge of the project.”

  He looked like he wanted to say something more, but she didn’t give him a chance. “Well, we all have to pick our road."

  **

  It was the day after Christmas and Sara was exhausted. Working to put away most of the decorations and deep cleaning the house was quite a chore. But she was leaving for Denver in two days to attend Genova’s wedding and then going directly to Laramie to work. There was no way she was going to leave the mess for her brothers to clean up.

  Jonathon, who’d been holding a game controller in his hand for most of the day, called out to her. “You wanna play?” He didn’t even avert his eyes from the game.

  Sara started up the stairs to her room. "Nope."

  “I brought my new gaming system up, so we could play it together.” His voice held some scorn in it.

  “Been a little busy."

  He paused the game. “Hey, Sara."

  Sara didn't stop.

  "Hey, Coach told us to get good and rested before next week. I’m going to be going pretty hard for a while. Plus, you’ve just been running around here like crazy. I thought you just wanted me to stay out of your way.”

  She hovered at the top of the stairway. "It's fine."

  The game blared back to life.

  Sara went to her dad's doorway. Everything felt so different with him gone. Even though James and Mark still lived here, with Rosie coming in occasionally to cook, clean, and leave some freezer meals, it didn’t feel the same. She noticed the family picture of all of them from last summer next to his bed. Her heart ached. She walked in the room. She needed him so badly. Why couldn’t he still be with them? Tears streamed down her face.

  Without warning, Tim, James, and Mark burst through the front door. Their voices were loud and laughter ricocheted through the house.

  "Sara?" James called.

  The sound of the video game stopped. "She's upstairs."

  "Sara?" James called out, again.

  “Hold on.” James called after her, his voice stern.

  Sara knew her brother wouldn't stop. She hustled out of the room. "Hey."

  James frowned. "We need you in the kitchen to talk."

  "I'm about to get in the shower."

  Marc took the steps two at a time. A fierce, mischiev
ous look in his eyes.

  The pit of her stomach turned into a knot. She recognized that look. “Do not pick me up!"

  Marc dipped his shoulder and threw her back like a sack of potatoes.

  "Put me down!”

  He rushed down the stairs. "Nope, the boss says we need to talk to you."

  Tim poked at her.

  Marc took her into the kitchen and dropped her into the chair James held out.

  "You drive me crazy!" Sara shouted, half playing.

  Marc stopped when he saw her face. "What's wrong?"

  Sara sucked in a breath and knew they could read her. "Nothing."

  James squinted down at her. “You’re not moving until you tell us what’s wrong with you.”

  Sara glared up at him. She hated to be strong-armed. She’d always hated it, ever since she was little. “Nothing.”

  Marc and Tim both planted themselves behind James. She knew it was pointless to try to get around him.

  Tim pointed at her. “You've been crying."

  Sara looked behind them to the living room. She didn't want Jonathon to come in here. "Shh."

  They all crossed their arms in unison. They used to do this to her. They would always gang up on her when she didn't agree with them. But instead of being angry, her heart deflated. She had to tell them the truth. “I just miss him.” It was the safest thing she could say right now. They all understood how their father’s death would hit randomly sometimes.

  Marc frowned. “I know, sis.”

  Tim pulled a chair out next to her and sat. “It’s strange, you think you’re done grieving and it hits you.”

  James went to the kitchen and pulled glasses, milk, and a package of cookies out of the cupboard. He put them on the table and sat.

  Marc immediately grabbed one and stuffed the entire thing in his mouth. He sat on the other side of Tim.

  James carefully poured milk for all of them. “I knew I bought these cookies for a reason." He looked at each of them. “I’m calling a family council.”

  Sara hated the way his formality made her smile. Since she'd been back for Christmas, she kind of liked his concern for all of them.

  James dunked a cookie and didn't look at her. "Do you want to talk about it?"

  She took a cookie. "No."

  James exhaled loudly. “Okay. We need to talk about our budget for Sara’s wedding.”

  Sara almost choked on her cookie. “What?”

  “You guys aren’t going to worry about it.” She had it worked out to just do something informal at the house.

  James put his hand up. “Hold on, sweet little sister.” James told her he liked to put the sweet in there because one day he hoped it would come true. “We’ve been talking and we want to do this. It won’t be really fancy or anything, but we have a couple thousand dollars for you to work with.”

  Tears formed in her eyes. She’d seen the latest spreadsheet of expenses and knew there was no money. “James . . .”

  Tim touched her forearm. “We want to do this. It’s what Dad wanted. It's what we want."

  Marc playfully pushed her shoulder. "You can't stop us."

  Sara hated the tears. “But the money’s not there.”

  James put his milk glass down with finality. “I’m selling Sherman.” His face was determined.

  “No. Absolutely not.” The horse her father had bought for James. James had wanted to train him to be a race horse.

  “No, that's been your dream.”

  James shook his head. "I already have a buyer."

  Sara wiped her tears. "No."

  “Sara.” Marc put his hand over hers. “It’s what he’s decided. Let him. It’s what he wants.”

  James wiped at his own eyes. “It's what we want. We love you, sis.”

  She reached out to all of them. Their hands mingled together in the center of the table. “I love you all, too. I don't deserve you." She cried harder.

  Marc and Tim stood to hug her.

  Sara was overwhelmed with love for them. Before, all she could think about was that her father was gone. Now, she could only think how grateful she was to be part of a family that was always there for her.

  Marc gently pushed her back down into the chair. “We've given you the money for the wedding, and I want to know why you're marrying him?"

  Chapter 41

  “What?” Sara felt like she’d been sucker punched.

  Marc turned his chair around and straddled it. "You're seriously gonna tell me that you’re okay if your life is like this.” He hooked his thumb toward the living room.

  “What?” Sara felt her defenses go up. Jonathon had been visiting for four days, and she’d felt her brothers silent disapproval. “Just because he’s not a ranch guy doesn’t mean that he’s unfit to be my husband.” She tried to keep her voice even, not wanting Jonathon to hear.

  Tim put his hand up. “It’s all right, Sara.” Tim hated confrontation, and he especially hated it when things got heated.

  James nodded. “Calm down, Sara.” He frowned and looked at Marc with displeasure. “What he meant was . . . are you sure he’s the right one for you?”

  “What?” Marc smirked back at James with a challenge in his eyes. “Since no one can say it—I'll say it. Frankly, we don’t like him. We think he’s lazy and full of himself, and the only thing he cares about is basketball. Oh, and the new games he got for his system, he cares about that too.”

  Sara glared at her brothers. The feelings of love she’d had toward them were now replaced with anger. "What? You really don't want to pay for a wedding?"

  “No.” James pounded his fist on the table. “Sara, don't take this to the next level."

  "Maybe it's at the next level," she shot back.

  James sucked in a breath. "We are all just concerned."

  Sara struggled for control of her anger. She didn't want to be mad at them. She shoved a cookie into her mouth. “I’m happy,” she said through the cookie.

  Marc roared back, "I can tell. I mean, you look happy right. And it's not like you’ve been walking around here like a zombie for the last two weeks."

  She pounded her fist. "Have not!"

  James put his hand back out. "Stop it."

  Sara swallowed. "Jonathon and I have been doing things."

  Marc laughed. “Yeah. And you seem so happy playing video games and going to the gym to watch him play basketball.”

  Sara hated that he struck a chord. She simmered and shoved another cookie into her mouth. He had a point and it really, really, really annoyed her.

  Tim leaned forward. “Sara, what happened with Beau?”

  That was not the question she wanted to be asked. She shoved in another cookie and drenched it with a sip of milk. “Nothing.”

  Marc gave her a look of disgust. “Yeah right. You sounded so happy on the phone Thanksgiving Day. Then you called us that next Monday and told us you were engaged to Jonathon. What happened?”

  Sara stared at the milk. “He got back together with his old girlfriend.”

  James sighed. “Aha."

  Tim drummed his fingers on the table. “Do we need to go kick his butt?”

  The heaviness inside her chest lightened. "No." She sighed and took a breath. "I thought I was falling in love with him. I really did.” She took another cookie. “And then I saw him out with this beautiful woman. I mean . . . she was okay. Well, it was his dead wife's sister.” Sara slouched miserably at the table. “And, he has a past with her.”

  “Okay." Marc nudged her.

  Sara fidgeted with the cookie. “And then he told me they were back together.” Sara took a long drink of milk.

  James clicked his tongue. "Hmm. I'm not liking this."

  Tim's face looked puzzled. “And, when did you get engaged to Jonathon?”

  Sara met his gaze. “That same night.”

  Marc whistled a low whistle.

  Sara hated telling them. She hated how it made it all sound. “But I waited for Jonathon for two years.
I waited and now we’re getting married. And even if you don’t agree with my decision, I would ask that you support me in this.” Looking at each one of them, she tried to show that she was not backing down from this.

  At that moment, Jonathon strolled into the kitchen and abruptly paused. "Is this a private thing?"

  James cleared his throat and picked up the package of cookies. "Have a cookie."

  Jonathon searched her face. "Is everything okay?"

  Sara stood and went to rinse her glass. "Yep."

  Jonathon took a cookie. "Hey, I’ve just started another game, I could add players?”

  Her brothers didn't respond for a few seconds. Then, Tim stood. “Yeah. I’ll play a game.”

  James stood. "You're going to have to teach me."

  Marc looked at Sara pensively.

  The others moved out of the kitchen.

  Finally, he stood. “I'm comin!"

  It’s on.”

  After watching them all take turns playing a car racing game, Sara finally went upstairs with a smile on her face. She went for her father’s room.

  Sara smelled the familiar scent of her father. She sat on his bed. Her heart ached for him. Was he happy that she was marrying Jonathon? The thought of her father and her mother watching over her made her feel happy. But was it the right decision to marry Jonathon? Would they approve?

  She flopped back onto the bed and stared at the crocheted saying on the wall. “When you can’t stand . . . kneel.”

  She sat up and slowly kneeled by the bed. "Dear Father . . ."

  Chapter 42

  Sara leaned back against the plush sitting couch in Genova’s bedroom.

  Genova turned in a circle, and she did a little curtsy for Sara.

  "You look so amazing!"

  Genova did a shy smile. "Is it silly that I feel so pretty?”

  “No."

  She wore a messy bun at the back of her head and soft ringlets flowed around her veil. She looked like a pixy.

  “You have to say that; you’re my maid of honor.” Genova waved a hand at her and looked in the mirror. “I’m so glad my aunt is coming to do my hair. These curls drive me crazy.” She reached to fluff them with her hand.

  Sara sipped on her water. “That’s funny. I’ve always wanted curls. I have to spend an hour with my curling iron if I want to attempt to have my curls stay in for more than five minutes.”