by Dana Corbit
That Haley stared at her with that same awed little-sister look she used to have when they were children made Caroline smile at her reflection. Caroline traced her fingertips over smooth silk, following the tiny dip in the strapless gown’s sweetheart neckline.
She’d never thought of herself as the fairy-tale type. She’d always related easier to the Elizabeth Bennetts from fiction rather than Cinderella or the Little Mermaid. But the woman staring back at her from that mirror looked like a princess, even to her. And her fingers tingled at the thought of the handsome, tuxedo-clad prince who would be escorting her down the aisle.
“It isn’t bad, is it?” Jenna said as she swished into the room, the delicate train of her simple silk bridal gown bunched up over her arm.
“Oh, Jenna. You look beautiful.” Haley shifted in the armchair they’d brought into the dressing room so she could sit more comfortably. She studied Jenna from the round neckline to the appliques at the bottom of her full skirt and then wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.
“Haley, dear. Are you crying again?” Trina, who’d trailed in behind Jenna, took a few tissues from a box on a nearby table and handed them to her youngest daughter. “Amy’s usually the one who cries over weddings.”
“Don’t worry, Mom. Mrs. Warren will be there, crying away this time, too,” Jenna told her as she stepped up behind Caroline, who still stood on the seamstress’s pedestal. “Haley here will probably join her. She’s weepy because of the baby.”
Caroline was feeling a little misty-eyed herself, and she had no excuse other than that she’d recently developed a soft spot for weddings. Not about to admit that to anyone, she cleared her throat. “Here. Let me get out of your way.”
Jenna shook her head. “Not until we’ve properly admired you.”
“But you’re the bride,” Caroline said, already backing off the step.
“That’s right. I am, and I get to have my way.”
Caroline rolled her eyes, but she dutifully stepped back on the pedestal. She even started spinning slowly when Jenna requested it.
“What are we going to do about Mrs. Warren’s and Lizzie’s dresses?” Caroline asked as she continued to spin.
Haley finished wiping her eyes and looked back to the mirror. “Lizzie’s dress didn’t need to be fitted, and we picked a loose-fitting chiffon for Amy so she won’t need a fitting, either.”
Jenna was still watching Caroline in the mirror. “Don’t you guys think I did a great job of matching the dress to her eye color? And look at how that blue brings out the auburn highlights in her hair.”
Rather than answer, the others applauded. Haley even executed a two-finger whistle.
Caroline’s cheeks heated. “It sounds like you put more effort into choosing my dress than you did yours.”
“Are you kidding?” Jenna said. “I’ve had my wedding dress picked out since about sixth grade, but yours I had to choose on short notice.”
“Sure, I remember,” Caroline told her. “You hung a picture of it on your wall with your teen heartthrob posters.”
“I remember, too,” Haley chimed. “Jenna and I used to play brides with our fashion dolls, but even then you weren’t into all the hoopla about weddings.”
“That’s not true.” Caroline shook her head and then grinned. “But either way, I’m going to like this wedding.”
“You’d better like this one.” Jenna paused to shake a warning finger at her sister. “Remember, I picked out that dress knowing full well you’re going to outshine everybody there…including the bride.”
“Now that is not going to happen, Jenna. Just look at you.” Caroline gestured to her sister’s gown.
She stepped off the pedestal again so that Jenna could take her place and they could get a good look at her amazing dress. They kept on oohing and aahing over it, even after the seamstress returned and started inserting pins for minor alterations on the dress that was already close to perfect.
“You are a vision, sweetheart,” Trina said.
Caroline had to agree, but something her sister had said still bothered her. “Not that it would ever be possible, but why would you want me to outshine you on your wedding day? It’s your day.”
In the mirror, Jenna gave her a knowing smile. “This dress is great, but Dylan would still think I looked beautiful even if I designed my own gown out of paper towels and cotton balls. But we wanted to make sure you look fabulous just in case one of those great guys at the wedding—”
“You can’t be serious!”
Caroline didn’t realize she’d raised her voice until Jenna’s eyes widened. Their mother and Haley stared at her as well, and even the seamstress looked up from where she was kneeling with color-topped straight pins in her mouth. Caroline didn’t care. They had no right to remind her about the single men who would be at her sister’s wedding when she was having a hard enough time keeping her mind off one of those men in particular.
She cleared her throat and started again. “More matchmaking? I know you think you’re being helpful, but this isn’t helping.”
Catching sight of Haley moving nervously in her chair, Caroline replayed Jenna’s words in her thoughts. “Wait. You said we. Were you all in on this? Remember, Mom, I told you if you tried again I would put myself up for adoption.”
Trina held her hands up in the pose of the innocent. “Don’t look at me this time. I had nothing to do with it.”
But Caroline did look at her little sister, who was fighting back a grin.
“Haley, you know better than this.” She turned to include the bride-to-be in the lecture. “You both know better. You hated it when Mom was trying to match you up with the Warren brothers.”
“Match us up?” her sisters chorused and then laughed.
“Don’t you mean matching you up?” Haley glanced at Jenna and their mother conspiratorially. “Isn’t it funny how she rewrites history?”
“There wasn’t anything funny about it,” Caroline said.
Her jaw tightened as they all laughed about some of the most humiliating moments of her life. Jenna was the first to notice that Caroline wasn’t laughing.
“Aw, come on.” Jenna tilted her head to the side in an endearing pose. “You can laugh about it now, can’t you?”
She tilted her head, considering. “Um, no. It’s not funny yet.”
Jenna started nodding. “Okay, I get that, but you have to understand. Haley and I are just so happy with Matthew and Dylan that we can’t help wanting you to be happy, too.”
Haley leaned on the arm of the chair and slowly came to her feet. “And if you think about it, if Mom and Mrs. Warren hadn’t been trying to match you up with the guys, then maybe we wouldn’t have figured out that God wanted us to be with them.” She indicated Jenna with a tilt of her head. “For sure, she wouldn’t have figured it out.”
“I’m a slow learner,” Jenna said with a shrug.
“You’re welcome, I guess, but don’t let any misplaced sense of gratitude cloud your judgment here,” Caroline said. “I’m already happy. Or at least I will be when I’m back to work, and everything gets back to normal.”
Haley studied her closely. “Are you sure about that?”
She bristled because she’d been asking herself the same thing lately. Was she really happy? Was her single life enough for her anymore? Would her life ever return to normal now that she and Logan had crossed paths? Even if she found the perfect job, would she forever be asking herself what if?
“Yes, I’m sure,” she answered. “So let it go, will you? Even Mom and Mrs. Warren let it go. Why can’t you?”
Jenna only shrugged and then rubbed her side where the pins in the dress’s waistline pricked her skin.
Haley grinned. “I wouldn’t be so sure Mom and Mrs. Warren have given up entirely, either. Mom might be just biding her time until my mother-in-law is feeling up to their schemes again.”
“Who, me?” But Trina chuckled when she said it.
“Come on, guys. This is my life. It
isn’t a game.”
With that Caroline stomped into the farthest dressing room and yanked the curtain shut. The zipper on her dress wouldn’t give at first, and it was all she could do not to yank it and possibly tear the delicate fabric. She had to get out of this dress and away from these people, who cared so much and were interfering too much in an area they couldn’t possibly understand.
As soon as she had pulled on her khakis and her white blouse and had hung her dress back in its garment bag, she pulled open the curtain again. Her sisters and mother were standing outside the dressing area, Jenna still in her bridal gown, waiting for her.
“I have to get back to the bakery. We’re having a big supplies delivery this afternoon, and I told Logan I would try to get back.”
“Wait, Caroline.” Haley launched herself into her sister’s arms. “We’re sorry. It’s just—”
“I know. I know. It’s okay.”
“We won’t bring it up again. Promise.” Jenna swished forward and wrapped her older sister in her arms. “But we won’t be able to help it if you get noticed in that dress. That’s all on you.”
“I’ll take my chances, then.” Caroline shook her head.
Though the mood had lightened, Caroline still couldn’t get out of the bridal shop soon enough. She hated that her sisters’ meager attempt at matchmaking bothered her so much. It shouldn’t even have surprised her that they would take up their mother’s matchmaking hobby, especially now that they’d both found such happiness.
But it did bother her, more than she cared to admit. Not because they were just like their mother in ignoring her choice to remain a single woman. Not even because they had all but planned to show off her straight teeth to market her as a potential bride to wedding guests. Her reason was so much simpler than that and more complex and confusing at the same time. They hadn’t once considered matching her with the best man.
“Do we get to use the sparklers yet, Uncle Logan?”
“What?” Logan glance down at Lizzie, who had folded her hands in a pleading pose and was looking up at him with a hopeful gaze. “Oh. Sorry, sweetie. We won’t see those until after we leave the center. It’s not dark yet.”
“But why?”
Her frown made him chuckle. His goals and those of his niece were at odds today. She was in a hurry for darkness to come so they could go watch the Markston community fireworks display. He didn’t want this day to end.
Even if they were cooking out in the back parking lot of the rehabilitation center instead of the park and even if it was overcast instead of sunny the way the Fourth of July should have been, it was a perfect holiday in his opinion. The whole Warren-Scott clan was finally together again, which gave them a miracle to celebrate along with freedom and independence.
“Lizzie, why don’t you come over here and find places to put these little flags,” Trina called from the picnic table.
Fireworks forgotten for now, the child skipped over to the table and nabbed a pair of them, becoming a single-child parade as she marched around the lawn chairs.
Near the picnic table, covered in a festive tablecloth, his mother held court in her wheelchair. Maybe the outdoor air had something to do with it, but she looked better than ever, her skin back to its healthy tone, her eyes shiny and bright. She had her new bathrobe secured at her waist and an afghan Haley had made tucked over her lap.
“Wave…Lizzie,” Amy said as her granddaughter marched past. She even waved the flag the child handed to her.
Logan’s heart squeezed as he watched her. This really was going to happen. She was going to be okay. Except for the arm that his mother held against her body as if to shield it, she already looked like her old self.
His mother caught him watching her and waved. As he waved back, he heard Dylan calling his name.
“Taking another break?” Dylan turned to flip a few hamburgers on the grill that they’d brought over in Logan’s truck.
“I just didn’t want to wrestle you for the control of the grill.” Logan stepped closer and glanced down at the cooking meat. “Doesn’t Mom look great?”
Dylan took a moment to watch her waving her flag, and then he nodded. “She’s doing so well. I think she’ll be fine for the wedding.”
“Are you getting nervous for next Saturday?”
“Nope.” The groom-to-be held out his hand. It wasn’t trembling at all.
“Not even the part about having to stand up there before God and everyone?” Logan lifted a brow.
“Okay. A little. But only about that. I’m not the performer in the family like you.”
“One’s enough.” Logan took another look at their mother, who was reaching up to pat Haley’s rounded belly. “We’d better hurry and get this dinner over with. We can’t overtire Mom today if want her to be in top shape for the wedding.”
Dylan waved away his worries. “She’ll be fine. The wedding will be fine. It’ll all be great.”
Logan had to smile at his love-struck brother. “Well, this cookout is going to be about as great as the last one if you burn everything again.”
“Hey, don’t blame me for that.” Dylan lifted both hands, one of them still holding a spatula. “Nobody was watching the grill that day.”
“Whatever you say.”
“Guys, do you need me to take over here?”
Logan hadn’t needed to hear her voice to know that it was Caroline who’d approached from behind him. He would sense her presence even if he was blindfolded and he wore earplugs and nose plugs. She’d become a sixth sense for him, her nearness like a touch on his skin and a warmth in his chest, and even if it scared him to death, he didn’t want it to stop.
Caroline looked so fresh today, her skin free of makeup and her hair pulled back from her face and secured with a clip at her nape. From her blue holiday T-shirt to her khaki shorts and her little socks and tennis shoes, she looked like a teenager.
Logan tried to come up with something clever to say, and, for once, he had nothing. Instead, he cleared his throat and looked to Dylan to fill the silence.
Dylan looked at him with surprise before he turned back to Caroline. “Are you kidding? This is male territory you’re entering here. Don’t emasculate us by trying to take away our grilling tools.”
Caroline snapped her fingers. “I should have known. Here I’d been thinking that the old boys’ club did all their important business transactions in the corporate men’s room or on the links, but all along the good stuff was happening around the grill.”
“I don’t know about corporate America, but around here we’re just competing to see who can make a superior steak,” Logan said. He leaned over conspiratorially to her. “Just in case you don’t already know the answer to that, it’s me.”
Caroline sank her front teeth into her bottom lip and looked past him to Dylan before she answered again. “It’s just like when you two were kids. Always competing. Are you planning a spitball contest next?”
“We might, so watch out.”
Her mother called her over then, so Caroline continued to the picnic table, leaving Logan alone with his obviously curious brother. Logan considered finding an excuse to get away, too, but he wasn’t fast enough.
“What was that all about?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Logan didn’t look at him, focusing on the women bustling around the picnic table.
“Only that there were enough sparks flying around here to start a fire nowhere near the grill.”
“You’re imagining things, brother.”
“Maybe,” Dylan said in a tone that suggested he was pretty sure he wasn’t imagining anything. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
Logan only made an affirmative sound since any real response would open him to more questions he wasn’t prepared to answer.
Dylan must have figured he wasn’t likely to hear more because he continued, “Well, whatever you’re planning, be careful. No matter how much we wish it otherwise, people don’t us
ually change who they are.”
“Jenna did.”
Dylan nodded at his brother’s mention of Jenna’s transformation last summer, but then he shrugged as if that didn’t affect what he’d said before. “Hey, can you do this? I have to go help Jenna with the ketchup and mustard.”
Logan accepted the spatula into his hand. Whether his brother had been talking about him or Caroline in his comment about change, he wasn’t sure, but the words struck home either way. He was who he was, and she was who she was, and neither of them was likely to change.
Whatever you’re planning… Again, his brother’s words struck him. Was he really planning anything? Or would he choose to let the tide take him to her no matter how unwise the decision, no matter how much of a mistake it would probably be?
Managing to finish the meat without burning it, Logan carried the tray of hotdogs and hamburgers over to the table, where the others gathered with Amy’s wheelchair parked at the end. Logan slipped onto one of the benches, and Caroline sat next to him in the only remaining empty spot at the table.
Trina took hold of her best friend’s frail left hand, and then she reached out for Matthew’s hand on the other side. Soon, the whole group was connected in a circle that began and ended with Amy Warren. Maybe a little different, but it was a Warren-Scott dinner.
This was what Logan had hoped and prayed for. So why during this important moment was he spending all his energy trying to ignore how soft, how small and delicate Caroline’s hand felt in his? Trying not to think about how right it felt with this one woman at his side?
As if she knew he wasn’t paying attention, Trina cleared her throat and began the blessing.
“Father God, thank You for looking down on us today,” Trina prayed. “Thank You for Your healing power that You’ve showered on our dear Amy. Please continue to work Your miracles with her and in all of our hearts.”
Trina stopped as she and his mother often did when they wanted to offer the others an opportunity to contribute to the prayer. Usually Matthew would have picked up next, but something felt different to Logan today. He felt compelled to speak next.
