ARKANSAS WEDDINGS: THREE-IN-ONE COLLECTION

by Shannon Taylor Vannatter

  Sylvie greeted him with a tremulous smile and a hug. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  What to call her? Sylvie didn’t sound right, but neither did Mom. Laken and Collin called her Mother. Mother? An outsider in his own family.

  “Your father’s waiting in the den. He hasn’t had anything to drink today.”

  “Did you tell him I was coming?”

  “No. I told him Laken and Collin were and he knows they’ll only come if he doesn’t drink.”

  Shell pushed him toward the double doors.

  “You expect me to walk in and drop my bomb with no warning.”

  “Son, he’s waited for this bomb for thirty years.”

  “Go on.” Shell kissed his cheek. “I’ll be here when you get back. Don’t make him wait any longer.”

  Ryler sucked in another deep breath and strode toward the den.

  “Shell, everyone else is in the family room, if you’d like to join them. Once Martin and Ryler have had some time together, we’ll see you there.”

  Needing extra strength, he turned to face her.

  She flashed him a brave smile.

  Ryler pulled the double doors open.

  Martin Kroft sat on the white sofa. Tall and thin, with stooped shoulders and shaky hands. Yellow-white hair, sallow skin, dark circles sank under dim blue eyes.

  “Do I know you, young man?”

  “Not yet, sir.”

  “You remind me of someone.” He shook a finger at Ryler then pressed a trembly hand against his lips. “My father. You remind me of my father when he was young. The spitting image. Sylvie?”

  “Martin”—with a quiver in her voice, Sylvie took Ryler’s arm and propelled him forward—“this is our son.”

  The older man’s eyes widened and a sob escaped him. “How did you find…?” He threw his arms open wide.

  Ryler didn’t need another father. He already had one. But somehow he felt drawn to the beckoning arms.

  He sat beside Martin Kroft on the couch and quivery arms encircled him. Sobs echoed in his ears and pressure welled inside his chest. A low moan escaped him as Sylvie wrapped her arms around them both, her tears soaking into Ryler’s shoulder.

  “You’re home. My boy is home. I’m so sorry. I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

  The double doors opened and Shell jumped up, clasping her hands in front of her, then behind her.

  Ryler came out first. His red-rimmed eyes tore at her.

  “Thanks for waiting.” He reached for her hand.

  Sylvie latched on to his other arm as if he might get away.

  “You okay?”

  “Sylvie, can you give us a minute? I promise I won’t leave.”

  Sylvie let go of him. “I guess I really should see about Martin. It’s been an emotional afternoon. Especially for him. You two talk here and maybe when he’s ready, we can all join the others together.”

  “You okay?” Shell repeated as the double doors closed.

  “I think so. He cried like a baby, so I did, too.”

  She cupped his cheek. “How is he?”

  “He’s a shell of what he should be. The drinking has taken a toll on him.”

  “Maybe having you here will give him incentive to get help.”

  “Maybe. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you being here.” He brushed a soft kiss across her lips and pulled her into his arms.

  The double doors opened and they jerked away from each other.

  “Well, who do we have here?” an unfamiliar voice asked.

  Martin Kroft had all of Ryler’s height, but none of the muscle. Rail thin, with sickly yellow skin and faded blue eyes. But he’d once been a hand-some man.

  “This is Shell Evans.”

  “Your lady?”

  Ryler grinned. “I’d like her to be. Right now, just call us friends, for her peace of mind.”

  “Nice to meet you, Shell.” He extended a shaky hand toward her.

  He needed a drink. Bad. “Nice to meet you, sir.”

  “Through here.” Sylvie led the way.

  Two taupe couches and several chairs furnished the large family room. A huge TV dwarfed the central wall. Soft gold walls, hardwood floors with a glossy sheen, and a large area rug with splashes of red gave the room a cozy feel despite its size.

  Jill hovered near Collin, as if she felt as out of place as Shell did. The total-honesty policy must include news of new brothers.

  “Ryler, welcome to the family.” Hayden offered his hand. “Sorry about all that other stuff.”

  “So, now that we have proof”—Laken frowned—“will Ryler still have to petition the court to open his adoption records?”

  “Why?” Ryler shrugged.

  “To claim your trust fund, of course.” Collin took a sip of his tea.

  Trust fund? Ryler had never said anything about a trust fund.

  “Ahem.” Hayden coughed. “Do we need to get into this now?”

  “Shell and Jill are close enough to family.” Laken covered her mouth with one hand. “I do hope Collin told you about his trust fund, Jill.”

  “He did.” Jill threaded her fingers through Collin’s. “He’s learning about not keeping secrets.”

  Apparently, Ryler hadn’t.

  “I couldn’t ask her to marry me without telling her about the trust fund.” Collin squeezed Jill’s hand. “Might as well reveal our warts and all, so she’ll know what she’s getting into.”

  “I didn’t come here for money.” Ryler’s fists clenched.

  Laken touched his arm. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “No one thinks you’re here for money, son.” Sylvie latched on to his arm again. “You could have petitioned the court and claimed your inheritance without contacting us. But you must claim it. Your father and I want you to have the money.”

  But if Shell kept hanging around, everyone would think she only wanted the money.

  “What if I don’t claim it?”

  Martin shrugged. “I guess if you don’t, it’ll eventually go to the state. But it’s your money, son.”

  “Number one, money’s never been important to me. Number two, if I claim the money, I feel like it will always cause doubts. Someone will always wonder if that’s all I came for.”

  “Only if you take the money and run.” Martin took a glass Laken offered. With his trembling, he almost dropped it. He drained it and set it on the coffee table.

  “And Ryler wouldn’t do that.” Sylvie patted his arm.

  “If I leave Romance, I won’t take a dime with me.”

  “See. But you won’t be leaving Romance, son. Unless you want to move to Searcy. Your father and I couldn’t bear to lose you again.”

  “Listen, I don’t know what my plans are right now. It’s been a long day, so I think Shell and I should be going. We both have an early day tomorrow.”

  “Can you have supper with us tomorrow night? Just Martin and me?” Anxiety shone in Sylvie’s eyes.

  “Probably.” He patted her arm. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll call you.”

  Sylvie nibbled on the inside of her lip and gave a slight nod.

  Martin hugged him again.

  He ushered Shell through the house and headed to their separate vehicles.

  “I wish we’d ridden together.”

  “I thought you might want to stay longer and you probably should.” Hurt and disappointment warred within her. “It’s kind of sweet the way Sylvie clings to you.”

  “And suffocating.” He opened her car door for her.

  “She’s got a lifetime to make up for.” She positioned the door between them. “So, did you plan to tell me about the trust fund?”

  “Eventually.” He grinned. “I’m still getting used to the idea of it.”

  “Your family doesn’t approve of me.”

  “Why would you think that?”

  “They think I’m a gold digger, just like my mother.”

  “They probably don’t even know your mother.�
� His lips brushed hers. “Sylvie loves you. I love you, Shell.”

  Tears burned her eyes. Words she’d never heard before. Words she could get used to. But could he really love “trailer trash,” as the kids in school had called her? Until her mother had found rich men to upgrade their living status.

  “Trust me, everyone in Searcy knows my mother and her penchant for taking up with rich men and milking all she could from them. It was only after her youth faded that she turned to prostitution and drugs.”

  “You don’t seem to be hurting for money, Shell.” He gestured toward her vehicle. “You drive a nice, late-model sports car, you’ve worked for Darrell for years, and I imagine he pays you well for your expertise. Why would anyone worry about you wanting my trust fund? I haven’t even claimed it yet, and I’m not sure I will.”

  “I just think you should have told me about it.” Sarcasm dripped from her tone as she settled in her car and fastened the seat belt. “Since you love me and all.”

  “Maybe”—his teeth clenched—“I need you to admit you love me back before I’m willing to share everything with you.”

  She started the engine and gunned it. That was something she wasn’t willing to admit. If she admitted she loved him, then she’d have to try to keep up with the Joneses. And she’d learned long ago, she couldn’t. Shell Evans wasn’t of the same ilk.

  The phone rang for the eighth time. Pacing his kitchen, Ryler ran his hand through his hair. No cool ringtone. No-nonsense ringing, like Shell. Come on, pick up.

  Would she even answer? He didn’t like the way she’d left.

  Finally, he’d blurted out his feelings for her. But she hadn’t returned the sentiment.

  “Hello?”

  “Shell, I’m so glad I caught you. Are you going to Conway this weekend?”

  “I’m packing now.”

  “Will you be back for church Sunday?”

  “I was planning to go with Savannah there. Why?”

  “Laken called to make sure I’d be at church Sunday. Martin’s coming.” Her gasp echoed over the handset. “Wow.”

  “Tell me about it. Laken said he hasn’t gone since she was eleven.” He paced into the living room. “I was hoping you’d be there.”

  “I’ll come back Saturday night.”

  “Good. I feel a lot more comfortable with you than I do with them.”

  “You’re one of them, Ryler. Let that sink into your stubborn brain.”

  “I’m trying. Thanks, Shell. Sorry to cut your time with Chance short.”

  “It’s okay. Three more weeks and I’ll be back home with him anyway.”

  Three weeks. Only three more weeks of working with her, seeing her daily. He couldn’t let her leave him. Not again.

  “I’ll see you Sunday then. Safe trip.” He wanted to say he loved her, but he didn’t want to scare her any further away.

  At least she didn’t sound mad. But distant. As if, in her mind, she was already gone.

  He’d just have to change her mind.

  Something clattered at the front door. Another clatter.

  Ryler frowned and hurried to open the door.

  Brady sat beside the porch, with a basketball in his lap and a crushed aluminum can poised in his fist. “Hey.”

  “Hey.” Ryler’s chest felt all fuzzy.

  “Dad says you’re my uncle.”

  “It’s true.”

  “I thought we might play some basketball, if you have time.”

  Ryler nodded. “You’re on.”

  “I’m playing basketball with Uncle Ryler,” Brady called.

  Uncle Ryler. His heart warmed. He glanced across the road.

  Collin waved then went inside.

  “So, Dad says you just found out about us.” Brady swished the ball through the hoop.

  Ryler jogged to rebound. “A few months back.”

  “I think Dad wishes you’d grown up with him and Aunt Laken.”

  “What gives you that idea?” Ryler lobbed the ball back to Brady.

  “I heard him talking to Aunt Laken on the phone, about how everything would have been different if they’d found you sooner. Kind of like if my dad had learned about me sooner.”

  “I guess so.”

  “Sometimes I wonder if I’d have always lived with Dad, would I be able to walk?” Brady swallowed hard. “When I was little, I ran out and tried to get in the truck to go to work with Hayden and he backed into me.”

  Ryler stifled a gasp.

  “That probably wouldn’t have happened if I’d lived with Dad. But then I think about how God’s got it all worked out and we just have to trust Him.” Brady swished the ball through the hoop again.

  “If I’d lived with Dad, he might have been so sad over Mom, he couldn’t have taken care of me good. I might have wandered into the road and died. Then he’d have felt guilty and maybe he couldn’t have dealt with guilt the way Hayden has. Maybe if you’d always lived with Mimi and Poppa, your other parents would have been really sad and lonely. And maybe Poppa would’ve still started drinking, but he wouldn’t have ever had a reason to stop.”

  “How’d you get so smart?”

  “I heard Pastor Grayson preach about it once. He said when bad things happen, that God might be saving us from something worse. Like maybe his first wife died the way she did because she was going to get cancer or something and suffer a lot. I thought it made sense.”

  “It makes a lot of sense.” Maybe Shell hadn’t been together enough to raise Chance. Maybe some jerk she’d dated would have mistreated her innocent son. Maybe Shell had done the best thing she could at the time.

  Martin Kroft Sr. had kept his promise. Sunday morning, Shell sat surrounded by Ryler’s entire family.

  Outnumbered and outclassed.

  As Grayson finished his sermon, the music began.

  Ryler, Laken, and Collin went to the altar first. In a huddle, they knelt as Shell dabbed at her eyes. Sylvie stepped into the aisle and Martin followed her. Brady rolled himself down the aisle, as well. A few others knelt.

  As the song wound down, only the Krofts were still at the altar, with Grayson and Martin whispering back and forth. They all stood and faced the congregation.

  Collin crooked his finger at Jill, who joined him and Hayden went up to stand with Laken. Ryler gestured to Shell.

  Me? You want me up there with you? She shook her head, quick and sharp.

  He gestured again.

  Shell rolled her eyes and went to stand with him.

  His arm came around her waist.

  “The Krofts have a new family member they’d like you to meet.” When he finished speaking, Grayson sat in one of the chairs on the stage.

  Sylvie stepped to the microphone. “Several months ago, I asked everyone to pray for Martin and me to find our oldest son. Your prayers worked.” Sylvie’s voice quivered as she took Ryler’s hand. “This is our son, Ryler Grant.”

  Excited gasps and whispers moved through the crowd.

  Martin Sr. stepped up beside them. “Hello, everyone, I’m Martin Kroft, and I’m an alcoholic.”

  Tears coursed down Sylvie’s cheeks and Laken hugged her father.

  Shell wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

  “All these years I’ve drank to get over losing our son, and in the process, I lost the two children I already had. I’m sorry.” Martin’s watery gaze locked on Collin. “I want to stop. I want to live. I want to get to know my kids. All of them.”

  Collin moved closer and put his arm around Martin’s shoulders.

  Sniffles from the crowd filled the silence. Shell scanned the faces. Not a dry eye in the house, except for a few oblivious children.

  “Please pray for me.” Martin started back to his pew, flanked by his family.

  Shell bypassed the pew and went straight to the ladies’ room. Staring in the mirror, she imagined how out of place she’d been up there. Laken with inner kindness shining from her eyes. Collin, a work in progress, but changing. Sylvie, a new c
reature—and Martin on the verge of a new life. Yet, even after all the years Martin and Sylvie had been together, he obviously didn’t fit.

  Laken, Collin, Sylvie. They were all flawed, but their purebred class oozed from every pore. All that oozed from Shell was wrong-side-of-thetracks mutt.

  The door opened and an older woman with hair too dark for her age came in and offered her hand. “Oh, I wanted to meet you, Shelly. I’ve heard so much about you. I’m Doreen Hughes.” Black penciled eyebrows scrunched together and her entire face puckered like she’d sucked on a lemon. “Am I to understand you’re dating Sylvie’s son?”

  “We’re just friends. And my name is Shell, not Shelly. Excuse me.” Shell hurried out, managed to sidestep the straggling crowd, and fled outside to freedom.

  Ryler jogged to catch up with her. Though Shell had a good head start, her heels slowed her progress. “Shell.”

  Halfway down the long drive of the B&B, she stopped. With a big sigh, she turned to face him.

  “What?”

  “You okay?”

  “Fine.”

  “We’re all going to lunch at the folks’ house in Searcy. Want to come?”

  “No, you go with your family.”

  “I feel kind of out of place with them.”

  “Trust me, you’re not. You fit right in. It’s in your blood.”

  “I was hoping you’d come with me.”

  “You don’t need me tagging along, Ryler. Just go. Have a good time with your family. I’m going to Conway to spend the rest of the day with Chance, anyway.”

  “When do I get to meet him?”

  “You don’t.” There was something final in her eyes.

  “You’re coming back, aren’t you?”

  “This place isn’t finished, is it?” Sarcasm tinged her voice as she gestured toward the mess in the front yard. “I think I’ll spend the night, though, and come back early in the morning.”

  “Are we okay?”

  “We, as in…?”

  “We, as in us. I’m trying to build a relationship with you, Shell.”

  “We’ve got a lot going on right now.” Her eyes were too shiny. “You’re getting to know a whole new family. And I—I just want to get home to Chance. Besides, I’ve got a grand opening bash to plan.

  “In two weeks this job will be done. Until then, I can’t think about much else. Let’s see how it goes then. Maybe absence won’t make the heart grow fonder.”