“But who benefits from that? None of Miller’s relatives gets a cent if we fail. A developer does.”
“I told you you’d probably think I’m acting paranoid. I can’t help it.” She blinked madly. “My son’s future is at risk.”
He cupped her face and rubbed away the tears that began streaking down her cheeks. “It doesn’t have to be, Sondra. Miller provided another way.”
She smiled bravely. “You’re right. Miller provided fifteen thousand in this eventuality. That’ll help Matt and me get started.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Fifteen won’t cover rent and child care for the first year.” His steady gaze held hers. “We’ll get married.”
“From the very start,” she said unsteadily, “we agreed that wasn’t an option.”
“We were total strangers back then. We’ve had almost a year to get to know each other. We’re far more compatible than either of us suspected.”
She stayed silent.
“We just finished tallying it up again. I’m sorry I didn’t pull you through.”
“Dylan, I’ve never once doubted your commitment or generosity. No one else would have worked as tirelessly or diligently. It’s not your fault.”
“But I can make it right. Marry me, Sondra.”
❧
Matthew started crying. Sondra wanted to wail right along with him. She pushed away from the table. “We have one more week.”
“Things won’t be any different next Friday.”
“Please excuse me.” She hastened out of the room and headed for the nursery. Sondra stood in the shaft of moonlight flooding the nursery and swallowed back her tears as she changed Matt’s diaper. A year and a half ago, she’d been planning her dreams-come-true wedding to Kenny. Now, she was seriously contemplating pledging her hand to a man who never once mentioned love in his proposal. Her heart ached.
Was it grief for having lost Kenny? Was it sadness that Dylan didn’t truly love her? She couldn’t untangle the knotted threads of emotions. Having someone to help her rear Matt would be an answer to prayer. She was so afraid of being a single parent.
That’s not a good enough reason to get married.
If she didn’t marry him, she and Matt would lose their home and precious time together. She’d need to go back to work as a teacher and leave him with a babysitter each day. That’s a good enough reason for me to marry—but I’m just using Dylan. . .and that’s wrong.
She did care for him—deeply. She’d called it love, but that seemed impossible to believe. How could she have already opened her heart and soul to another man? But I have.
Matthew snuffled, then let out a little squeak that quickly increased in pitch. A floorboard creaked as Dylan came in. “He thinks it’s time for a snack, huh?”
“Actually, he’s been sleeping through the night.” She fastened up the snaps on the pale green sleeper and lifted Matt.
Dylan took the baby and surprised her by sitting on the ottoman in the moonlight. He patted the rocking chair in a silent invitation for her to join him. The soft, almost bluish light illuminated the patience on his weary face.
I want my son to have this man for his daddy. . .and I want him for myself, too. Sondra sat and rocked in pensive silence.
Matt snuggled into Dylan’s arms, gave him a sleepy smile, and yawned. Dylan’s callused hand smoothed errant baby curls. “Sondra, I’ll be steady and true. We can build something good out of this. I don’t want you thinking I’m doing this for the land or livestock, so I’ll sign a prenuptial.”
“No.” She shook her head adamantly. “If we do this, it’s because we plan to really make a go of it—not just to weather a bad turn in the market and a pair of ill-timed mishaps. Stability and commitment are too important. Signing papers like that presume the marriage will fail. If you have any notion that you’ll want to divorce in the future, then I’m not going to even consider this far-fetched plan.”
“It’s not far-fetched, honey pie. It’s real as real can be. A forever kind of deal.”
“We still have a week, Dylan. You need to use the time to consider what you’re proposing.”
“I know exactly what I’m doing. It’s the right thing, Sondra. Trust me.”
The right thing. Why did something so right for her seem so wrong? Because he’s being gallant. He’s offering me his hand, but his heart’s not involved. His scuffed work boots grew blurry. Sondra looked up and fought to paste on a smile as she blinked away the tears. He looked so earnest. Lord, is this Your will? You’ve put the desire in my heart. With time, will You teach Dylan to love me? They sat only two feet apart, but it felt like an unbridgeable gulf.
“Exercise faith.” His words whispered across the distance.
Nothing he could ever say or do would have answered her troubled heart and mind better. Silence stretched as they studied each other in the muted light. “Do you mind if we get married in the pastor’s study instead of city hall?”
“There’s a pretty little prayer chapel tucked away behind the main sanctuary. If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to say our vows there.”
A church wedding. Sort of. Well, it was fitting. God brought them together, and Sondra was taking a huge leap of faith in marrying Dylan. She desperately wanted the Lord’s blessing on their union. “I’d like that.”
“Do you want me to surprise you with a ring, or would you rather go shopping with me and chose something?”
“Dylan, we don’t need to spend a lot of money on a ring. I—”
“Whoa.” He held up a hand. “Hold it right there. This might not be one of those Valentine’s-y kind of high school romances, but some things aren’t negotiable. This is one of them. You’ll have a nice ring. Pretty, like you.” He winked. “That’s something I’ll teach little Matt. Anything worth doin’ is worth doin’ right. No sliding by.”
Not a romance. Her nails dug into the wooden arms of the chair as she leaned away from him. The rocking chair tilted back, then arced forward again—toward Dylan, then went back again. Together, apart. Together, apart. Just like us.
Dylan rose and tucked Matt into his crib with ease, then turned to her. He took her hand and helped her from the rocking chair.
She fought the urge to lean into his strength. She’d done almost no dating at all until she met Kenny, and he’d been at an easy-to-reach level. Dylan was huge with brawny shoulders and arms from his heavy work. Long, toned legs gave him towering height, too. Dylan had a way of engulfing her with his presence and making her feel secure. Too secure.
His callused hand enveloped hers, wouldn’t let go. His other hand slowly tilted her face to his, and his voice went as rough as his hand. “Let’s seal it with a kiss.”
❧
Dylan strode up to the two-story clinic and would have taken the stairs, but a cordon across it warned, “Wet Varnish.” The pungent smell of fresh varnish permeated the lobby as he wrinkled his nose and jammed the UP button on the elevator. He was alone in the stainless-steel-lined car and did a quick check to make sure he didn’t look too shabby. One glance at his reflection told him his hair needed taming in the worst way.
He got out of the elevator car, glanced about Doc’s waiting room, and spotted Sondra in a mustard-colored plastic chair. She held the baby to her shoulder, and her head rested back against the wall. Her eyes were closed; her lips thinned.
“Here, Sondra, I’ll take the little guy.”
Her eyes flew open. “Dylan!”
He leaned forward and brushed a kiss on her cheek, then swiped Matthew from her. “Figured we’d make this a family trip.”
“You’re sick?”
Her concern warmed his heart. “No, honey. We need to have Doc do blood tests for the marriage license. I told Nickels to go on ahead. After we pick up the marriage license, I’ll drive you home.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
Her face still looked strained. She really doesn’t want to marry me.
The corner of her mouth twitched. “I hate t
his. Matt’s going to get more shots today.”
Relief flooded Dylan. So at least it’s not just the wedding; it’s not just me. He tickled her cheek. “You gonna cry more than he does?”
“Can’t say I’m not tempted.”
“Can’t say I’ll cope any better.” Dylan winced theatrically and cuddled Matt closer. “Nothing worse than someone pickin’ on a kid. You might have to hold me back so I don’t grab the syringe and toss it out the window.”
Sondra let out a small laugh. Her features finally eased, making the nonsensical conversation worthwhile. Dylan grinned. He knew he’d turned into a fool for love, and he didn’t mind in the least.
A short while later, Dylan kept his left hand on the steering wheel and stuck out his right forearm. “You’ve kissed little PeeWee’s boo-boo a hundred times or so. Don’t I get a kiss for my boo-boo?”
“Boo-boo?”
The corner of his mouth kicked up. “What else do you call ’em?”
“Ouchies!”
Dylan chuckled. “I see. After you kiss my ouchie, it’s plain we’re going to have to have a serious talk.”
“Dylan—”
“Kiss first,” he ordered.
Her lips glanced off his arm—like a butterfly barely lighting before flitting away. A second later, she ripped off the tape and cotton ball.
“OUCH!”
“Told you it was an ouchie!”
He cocked a brow and muttered, “I’ll give you that one.”
Sondra took a deep breath and let it out. “Dylan, we do need to talk seriously.”
“Unh-huh.” He agreed gravely. “I wouldn’t have it any other way, because I’m not about to have you teaching our boy sissy terms for things. As far as I’m concerned, it’s nonnegotiable. He’s going to learn the manly way of sayin’ what needs to be said. . . . Take, well, say for instance, him needin’ to go see a man about a horse. . . .”
Giggles spilled out of Sondra. “See a man about a horse?!”
“No better way to say it.” He punctuated his pronouncement with a definitive nod. “You get ouchie. I get that.” His heart started to beat a million times a minute as he added, “There’s something else I get. Kenny will always be his pa, and I won’t challenge that one bit; but I’m the man who’ll teach him to walk and ride, and I’m to be called his daddy.”
He’d never risked so much, put his heart on the line like that. In one fell swoop, he’d managed to demand a place in Sondra’s life—an official place as her husband and the daddy to her precious son. Never once had he dared to think of himself as lucky enough to find a woman to love with all his heart and soul. Now, with Sondra and little Matthew, he hungered so badly to have them be his very own, he risked grabbing for the future. She might think it was a business arrangement, but Sondra was a woman with a big heart. Given enough time, she’d come around. Please, God, let it be true.
His voice went rough as he pledged, “I’ll be a good daddy to him. You have my word on it. I’ll be firm, but fair. I’ll protect him and teach him.”
Say something, Sondra. . . .
“If we ever have other children, little Matt will still be our firstborn and every bit as much mine—I wouldn’t be the kind to shove him off to the side in favor of them.”
Her hand squeezed his elbow. “You’d never show favorites, Dylan. I know that.”
He shot her a quick look.
“I suffered that fate, and if I thought for one second you’d shortchange Matt, I’d walk away.”
“Then take off your boots, honey, because you aren’t going anyplace but home.”
Nineteen
“Come on over here and sit down for a minute.”
Dylan’s invitation surprised her. Sondra figured the minute they got home, he’d rush off. Instead, he’d popped Matthew into the baby swing and taken a seat on the couch. She took a few steps closer. “What is it?”
He grinned. “Well, at least you followed half of my directions.” He tugged her down beside him, reached over, and took her left hand in his. Slick as could be, he took a ring and slipped it onto her fourth finger. She hadn’t gotten her wedding ring repaired yet, so the finger was bare. He adjusted it so the solitaire glittered.
“Dylan—”
His hand came up, lifted her chin, and his lips met hers in a soft, warm kiss. For this being a business agreement, it felt so good, so real. He cupped her cheek and wound his other arm around her shoulders so she was entirely in his keeping—and she could do nothing other than melt as Dylan continued to brush his lips gently across hers. He murmured something against her cheek, but her pulse thundered too much for her to distinguish the words.
Dylan whispered against her temple, “I’m ready for the two of you. You’re a special woman, and I’m praying for God to bless us.”
Click, clack, click, clack. . . . Matthew’s baby swing beat out a rhythm.
“I’m praying, too.” What more could she say? I’m asking the Lord for you to fall in love with me? I’m begging God that you won’t feel this is a big mistake someday?
“Do you want us to live here or over at the Laughingstock?”
Looking around, she fought a sense of dread. The last thing Sondra wanted to do was pack up and move again. But that was his home. He’d grown up there, and she’d been here just shy of a year. He was already making all of the sacrifices. “Don’t you want to live there?”
His arm tightened about her, and she rested her head on his shoulder. “If it’s all the same to you, this place is bigger and you have it all fixed up the way you like. Teresa and Jeff are renting a dinky apartment. They’d probably jump at the chance to live over at the Laughingstock.”
“I’m eavesdropping,” Teresa sang from the other side of the screen door. “If you’re really making the offer, we accept.”
“Come on in.” Sondra eased free from Dylan’s hold.
“Dylan called from town and asked me what size ring you wore,” Teresa bubbled. “I’m so excited for the two of you! I came by to help you plan everything.”
Dylan stood. “I need to get back to work.” Instead of just leaving, he tilted Sondra’s face to his. One hard, quick kiss, and he was gone.
“Wow.” Teresa laughed. “Let me see your ring.”
After Teresa admired the engagement ring, she asked, “What are you wearing for the wedding?”
Sondra let out a yelp. “I don’t have anything!”
Teresa laughed. “Of course not. You had a baby. Things change after that. Besides, you need a new dress for your wedding. I know just the thing, too.” Teresa led her into the office and seated her at the computer. “Watch.” Seconds later, she entered a Web site address.
“This is for bridal gowns!”
“That’s exactly what you are.” Teresa gave her a stern look. “You’ve done this before, but Dylan hasn’t. He even took his suit to the dry cleaners.”
“He hates wearing suits!”
“He did it so he’d look handsome for you. You need to look pretty for him.” Teresa’s fingers flitted over the keyboard. “You don’t have to wear yards of white satin and lace, but look here.”
“Those are too fancy.”
“Wait a minute.” Teresa continued to scroll down the page. She glanced up for a second. “It’ll just be his hands and yours there. Probably thirty guests in all—not a huge gathering, but they’re the men who owe their livelihoods to the both of you.”
“I just thought it was going to be us and a couple of witnesses.”
“Nonsense. Forget that old saw about the wedding being for the bride. It’s for everybody, because they all want a chance to celebrate. You belong together—I’ve seen it from the day I walked into your bedroom and saw him cradlin’ you on his lap like you were manna from heaven.”
Had Dylan been attracted to her all of this time? No. Impossible. I was pregnant!
Teresa squinted at the monitor. “What about maybe wearing something with a hint of apricot? With priority delivery, your we
dding dress will be here tomorrow.”
Sondra bumped her out of the way and found the perfect dress. Maybe, if we really do this up right, Dylan will—
“Here. Order by phone.” Teresa nudged the phone closer. “See if they have it in a petite, or we’ll need to order super-high heels so the hem doesn’t drag.”
Placing the order, Sondra tried to tamp down the spurt of hope she felt. The years of shuffling from one home to the next taught her love didn’t blossom just because people lived under the same roof. But God can work miracles. . . . She called a caterer and ordered a wedding supper, then called the florist.
Lord, I’m doing my part. I’ll trust You to work on him.
❧
Dylan’s breath hitched. The last rays of sunlight spilled through the stained glass and gave a jubilant look to the church. Candles glowed. Two discreet flower arrangements dressed up the altar. Good thing the pastor’s wife had insisted on them using the church instead of the little chapel. Folks sat squished together in the pews because word got around. Every last hand from both ranches, neighbors, the friends Sondra had made, and their church family all showed up.
Strains of the traditional Wedding March started, and the guests stood. For a moment, Dylan couldn’t see Sondra at all. Nickels walked her down the center aisle, looking proud as could be. Dylan subtly rocked forward onto his toes to see his bride.
She looked beautiful. For a moment, he thought she’d come to him wearing white lace. As she drew closer, he realized the antique-looking dress was creamy, but she wore a peachy-colored slip underneath. It looked soft and feminine—not fussy and overblown—but just right. Bridal enough to let her look like she wanted to get married—not so fancy that he felt uncomfortable. She had a knack for doing things perfectly.
She’d woven a few sprigs of baby’s breath into her fire-bright tresses. Teresa had clued him in about buying a bridal bouquet. The roses shook a bit as Nickels placed Sondra’s hand in his.
Don’t be scared, honey. I’ll be a good husband to you.
In His Will Page 14
