Left at the Altar

by Margaret Brownley

  Not good. Not good at all. Kissing her was wrong, all wrong. He was still Tommy Farrell’s lawyer, and that meant he was obliged to act professionally at all times. His client deserved no less. Kissing the plaintiff was inexcusable. What if she went to her father? Her lawyer? What if Barnes went to the judge? One moment of madness could cause Grant to lose his client’s case and ruin his reputation as a lawyer.

  The last was the least of his worries. Grant wasn’t even certain he planned to hang around after the trial. Meg could talk up Texas till the cows came home, but settling down here permanently was the furthest thing from his mind. The town was too wild for his liking, the people too ornery.

  Even more worrisome was that something about Two-Time made him act unlike himself. Maybe it was the water. Maybe it was the air. He didn’t want to think it was Meg Lockwood.

  Mr. Garrison, did you or did you not kiss the plaintiff?

  I did, Your Honor.

  And did you or did you not enjoy it?

  Enjoy it? Yes, I enjoyed it. And if I had it to do over, I would willingly and gladly kiss her again.

  *

  Upon reaching home, Meg grabbed hold of the porch railing and gasped for air. She was breathing so hard she could hardly move, and her knees threatened to cave in.

  Oh God. What is happening to me?

  The light in the window indicated Mama was still up, no doubt waiting for Papa to return from ringing in the new year.

  Meg didn’t dare let either parent see her. Not like this. Not while her whole body was on fire. Not while her mouth still burned with the memory of Grant’s kiss.

  The sound of whistling and the click of the front gate announced her father’s return. She drew back into the shadows and held her breath until he entered the house with a stomp of his feet.

  Pressing her fingers against her still-burning lips, she closed her eyes. Never before had she been kissed like she’d been kissed tonight. Certainly not by Tommy.

  Nor had she imagined that a kiss could be so all encompassing. And yet…leave her aching for more. Much more.

  If time could be measured like so many lengths of calico, as Papa believed, why did minutes seem like seconds whenever she was with Grant? Only to feel like hours when they were apart?

  And why did time always move forward like an arrow heading for some distant target? Why couldn’t it go in reverse?

  So what do you say about celebrating New Year’s with me a second time?

  She paced back and forth on the dark porch. She thought of a dozen reasons why she couldn’t, shouldn’t, didn’t dare return for a second helping of those heavenly soft lips.

  He was a fancy big-city lawyer, and she was just a small-town girl. He’d gone to a prestigious school, and she’d barely made it through the one-room schoolhouse on the edge of town. He’d seen things she never hoped to see and knew things she couldn’t even guess at. What would a man like him see in the likes of her?

  Kissing her had been a trick. Something to use against her. That was the only thing that made sense. Even now, Grant was probably on the way to wake the judge and tell him what had happened. What the so-called heartbroken jilted bride had done this time.

  And yet…

  This was the same man who had prevented the embarrassing contents of her hope chest from being exposed in court. Who’d paid for a young boy’s gift to his pa. Showed concern for her father. Would such a man turn something as personal as a kiss against her?

  If I had someone like you…

  The memory of his words only increased her confusion and made her uncertainty more pronounced. Go back to him. Don’t go back…

  The more she debated the pros and cons of returning to him, the weaker her resolve to stay away became. Grant had always been open and honest with her. Would such a man stoop so low as to use a New Year’s kiss against her in court? No, a thousand times no!

  A tingle of excitement raced down the length of her. Anticipation burned through her like wildfire and made her want to throw off her cape. Maybe if she hurried, he would still be outside, waiting. If she hurried, perhaps she could reach him before the Farrell bell began to ring. That way she could enjoy the full twelve strokes of midnight nestled in his arms.

  In her hurry to leave the shadows, she knocked against a small table, and a potted plant crashed onto the wooden porch.

  The door flew open, and her father’s large, bulky form was outlined in the doorway.

  “Meg, is that you?”

  Her heart sank. “Yes, Papa.”

  “Well, come in before you catch your death of cold.”

  Meg glanced down the street toward the boardinghouse, but it was too dark to see much beyond the streetlight. Worse, Farrell’s bell began to ring, the first stroke piercing through her like an arrow. Fireworks exploded overhead, sending a shower of sparks flying in every direction like little pieces of her heart.

  Swallowing the lump in her throat, she followed Papa inside on leaden feet.

  Twenty-three

  A crowd was already waiting outside the courtroom when Meg and her family arrived that Monday morning in early January.

  The chaos was like a circus. All that was missing were Colonel Tom Thumb and P. T. Barnum’s traveling menagerie. Drummers hawked everything from peanuts to hot buns, and one man stood on a soapbox proclaiming the end of the world.

  The spectacle, bad as it was, hardly affected Meg. While everyone else anticipated the reading of the verdict, Meg was looking forward to seeing Grant again. She hadn’t been able to think of anything else since New Year’s.

  Her only regret was not going back to him that night. Foolish, foolish girl! How could she possibly have thought he would do something as underhanded as using her kisses against her in court? A fine, honest man like that!

  Now if she could just figure out a ladylike way of letting him know she was interested. Maybe Miss Lonely Hearts would have some ideas in that regard. The thought brought a smile to her face.

  “You certainly look confident,” Josie said in a hushed voice by her side. “Do you know something about the judge’s ruling that rest of us don’t?”

  Meg forced her mouth to turn downward. “No, of course not.” She cleared her voice. “I was just…eh…thinking about New Year’s. I had a great time at your house.”

  Josie’s eyebrows rose. “You certainly didn’t look like you were having a good time.”

  “I did, Josie. Really, I did.”

  Her assurances were met with a dubious expression. “Meg, I just want you to know that whatever happens today—”

  “Oh, look, there’s Tucker.” Meg waved to him. “I’ll be right back.” She quickly moved away from Josie’s scrutiny.

  The boy raised a newspaper over his head and yelled, “Readallaboutit. The jilted bride ruling due today!” He grinned as she approached. “Hello, Miss Lockwood. Wanna newspaper?”

  “No, thank you, Tucker. I already saw the morning paper. I just wanted to ask how your pa liked his watch.”

  “He said it was the best gift he ever got.”

  “That’s wonderful, Tucker. I’m so glad.”

  The smile died on her face the moment she spotted the editor of the Two-Time Gazette barreling toward her.

  He barely reached her before the questions began spewing out of him. “Do you think the verdict will go in your favor?” He held his pen posed, ready to jot down some scandalous quote she would never think of saying. “And what about—”

  Ignoring the man, she shouldered her way through the crowd. Win or lose, Meg didn’t care. She just wanted it to be over so she and Grant could finish what they started on New Year’s Eve. Hand held in front of her face to ward off the blinding camera flash, she accidentally bumped into Grant.

  He steadied her with a hand to her elbow, and it suddenly felt as if no one else existed but the two of them.

  His gaze dipped to her lips for a moment before meeting her eyes. It didn’t seem possible, but it felt like she had just been kissed agai
n, and her heart responded in triple time.

  “You all right?” he asked.

  She smiled up at him, but before she could answer, the newspaper editor stepped between them, forcing him to release her arm. “What do you think the chances are of a favorable ruling?” he asked, posing the question to Grant.

  Grant shot Meg an apologetic look before turning to the editor. She walked away before hearing his answer. Naturally, as Tommy’s lawyer, he would have to speak in favor of his client. Just as Barnes conveyed a winning attitude to one and all. Neither side wanted to show doubt or weakness.

  “I’ll put my money on the jilted bride,” someone yelled out.

  “The judge’s gonna rule for Farrell,” shouted another. “Mark my words. Any man smart ’nuff to run away from a marriage trap deserves to win in my book.”

  Meg turned right, then left, but every way was blocked.

  Josie appeared by her side. “Don’t pay any attention to them.” She took Meg by the arm and steered her through the crowd.

  “Meg!” It was Tommy. “We need to talk.”

  Josie warded him off with an open hand. “This is neither the time nor place.” She practically pushed Meg into the courtroom.

  “Good luck,” Josie whispered.

  “Thank you.” While her sister grabbed two empty seats in the gallery, Meg hurried up the aisle and took her place between Barnes and her father.

  “Ah, there you are,” Papa said. In a softer voice he added, “Can’t wait to see the look on Farrell’s face when he finds out he has to pay for the trouble his son caused.”

  Her stomach knotted. She’d been so wrapped up in her own joyful thoughts that she’d forgotten what was at stake. A win for her would be disastrous for the Farrell family, and that was the last thing she wanted.

  She turned to Barnes. “Do you think Papa’s right? Do you think the judge will rule in our favor?”

  Barnes lifted his shoulders. “I gave up trying to guess which way the legal wind would blow years ago.” Fortunately, his voice had returned during the holidays and he sounded like himself again. “We’ll just have to wait and see.”

  The sudden roar of the crowd signaled the opening of the door, and Meg glanced over her shoulder. Grant had entered the courtroom, his presence filling the room like water filled a glass.

  She quickly turned to face the front. Squeezing her eyes shut, she forced the memory of New Year’s to the back of her mind, knowing full well the reprieve would only be temporary.

  Waiting until after she thought Grant was seated, she chanced a glance at the defense table. With his stern, businesslike demeanor, he hardly looked like the same man who had melted her heart with one searing kiss.

  Her father moved restlessly by her side. “Where in blazes is Amanda?”

  “I think she had something to do,” Meg said. She’d insisted that her sister attend a suffragette rally in Austin. Amanda had her heart set on it, and Meg saw no reason why she shouldn’t go.

  “Something to do?” Her father’s eyebrows rose like two half moons. “What could be more important than being here today to celebrate?”

  “Shh, Papa.”

  Spectators streamed into the courtroom, and soon, the seats were all taken, requiring latecomers to crowd in back or stand outside and hang through open windows.

  “All rise,” called the bailiff, and shuffling feet replaced the buzz of voices.

  The judge walked in, his judicial robe trailing behind him like a flock of black birds. He took his place behind the bench and, with a single curt nod, motioned everyone to sit.

  An expectant hush settled over the crowd as they waited for him to announce his decision—and wait they did. Judge Lynch was center stage, and he wasn’t in any hurry to relinquish the spotlight. As such, he went to great lengths to explain how he had reached his decision. He spoke in legal terms that no one save the two lawyers could possibly interpret, but his message was clear to one and all. No one, with the possible exception of Abraham Lincoln, had ever had to make such a difficult decision.

  Her father fidgeted. “In the name of Sam Hill, would the man get on with it?”

  “Shh, Papa.”

  The hourglasses had long since run out of sand, and still the judge kept talking. “In my opinion, there is nothing as reprehensible as the law that permits breach-of-promise suits. Nor is there any law open to more abuse. Marriage is not a business and should not be regarded as such.”

  The judge paused to take a sip of water. “Having said that, I have to rule on the facts of the case. And the fact is that the accused did indeed lead the plaintiff to believe—”

  Tommy jumped to his feet so quickly that his chair fell backward and crashed to the floor. A collective gasp filled the courtroom as all eyes turned to him.

  “I never should have walked out on you!” Tommy shouted in a high, thin voice. “I’ll marry you, Meg!”

  Twenty-four

  Confusion followed Tommy’s outburst. Meg didn’t know what to say, what to do, which way to turn. Barnes seemed equally befuddled. Papa just looked thunderstruck.

  “What? What?” The judged reached for his hearing horn and stuck it against his ear. “What did you say?”

  “I said—”

  The rest of his sentence was drowned out by the buzz of spectators, which quickly turned into shouts of approval.

  “He says he wants to marry her!” someone yelled out the window to the crowd waiting outside.

  A peeved spectator in the back of the room took exception. “Hey, that’s not fair! I have money riding on the judge ruling for the defense.”

  Grant rose to his feet. “Your Honor, I request—” The rest of his sentence was drowned out by whoops and hollers.

  Lynch banged his gavel. “Order. Order in this court!”

  Ignoring the judge, Tommy’s father popped up and pointed his finger at Papa. “Lockwood,” he yelled. “You let your daughter marry my son, and I’ll agree to a one-time town.”

  Thunderous applause and the stomping of feet followed his outburst.

  “Order!” the judge bellowed. “There will be no showdown!” His pleas went unnoticed. Applause and shouts of approval drowned out both the judge’s voice and the pounding of his gavel.

  The blacksmith pumped his fist in the air. “It’s about time. That’s all I gotta say. Let’s get these two young’uns married off so we can all live in peace.”

  “Hear, hear,” shouted a man sitting next to him.

  Not to be outdone, the mayor stood, his head encircled by blue smoke from his cigar. “I think that’s a fine idea,” he said. “What do you say, Lockwood?”

  All eyes turned to Meg’s father, whose face was as stoic as rock. “My daughter might not wish to marry—”

  “Why wouldn’t she wish to marry him?” someone bellowed. “If she’s as heartbroken as you say she is, she’ll welcome Tommy’s change of heart.”

  Aware that everyone’s attention had now shifted to her, Meg felt her heart pounding against her ribs. Her gaze sought Grant’s. Losing, Miss Lockwood? I’m afraid that’s something of which I have no knowledge.

  She gasped for air and willed Grant to do something, say something. Much to her dismay, he remained seated and in conversation with his client. Had he planned this all along? Planned for Tommy’s last-minute change of heart, should things start to go her way? She didn’t want to believe it of him, but what else could she think? He’d made no secret about his feelings, about how much he loathed breach-of-promise suits. But never did she dream that he would go to such lengths to keep the judge from ruling in her favor.

  “I-I…” She cast a pleading look at Barnes. For goodness’ sake, don’t just sit there. Do something!

  “The lady says yes!” someone shouted, and the courtroom erupted again with shouts of joy.

  “Order!” The judge’s incessant banging finally gained control. “Counselors.” He gave his bench another whack of his gavel and rose like a raven about to take flight.

&
nbsp; “In my chamber. Now!”

  *

  Meg walked out of the courtroom in a daze, only to find a noisy celebration in full swing. Two feuding families were about to join forces through marriage. At long last, the town would be united under one time zone.

  Bells pealed out, the Farrell bell joining forces with the church bells to create a cacophony never before heard in the town. The Lockwood bell remained silent.

  Sallie-May pushed her way through the throng of people. “Oh, Meg. I’m so sorry—”

  She said more, but her voice was drowned out by the revelers.

  Tommy caught up to Meg, and the crowd corralled them in a tight circle. Meg felt like her whole life was spinning out of control. A wooden puppet controlled by strings couldn’t have felt more helpless.

  The newspaper editor plied them with questions. “How did it feel when he proposed a second time?”

  “Well, I—” She looked at Tommy, and he looked at her. “I was surprised,” she murmured. Surprise didn’t even begin to describe how she felt. Tommy Farrell, I’ll kill you. I swear I will! Announcing his intention to marry her in court at the last possible moment was almost as bad as leaving her at the altar. Worse!

  “When’s the wedding?” someone called out.

  “We haven’t set a date yet,” Tommy said, wiping beads of perspiration off his forehead with the back of his hand.

  The minister interrupted. “I say we get these two young people married off as soon as possible. How about this weekend?”

  Much to Meg’s dismay, the celebration seemed to last forever. She just wanted to go home and hide. If it was possible to fall through a hole in the ground, she would have gladly done so, but never had the ground beneath her feet felt more solid.

  Grant walked out of the courthouse. The crowd closed in around him like ants at a picnic. Folks patted him on the back and offered congratulations.

  Meg felt a heavy weight crushing down on her.

  So this was Grant’s doing. She should have known. A big-city lawyer like him was bound to have a clever plan up his sleeve. He would do anything rather than lose a case.

  So when did you think up the plan? Before we kissed? Or after?

  His gaze met hers. His face was inscrutable and his dark eyes even more so, letting nothing in and even less out. After a moment, he turned and vanished amid the crowd of well-wishers. Had he physically trampled on her heart, it couldn’t have hurt more.