Ticket to Bride

by Liz Isaacson

  Ticket to Bride

  Liz Isaacson

  Contents

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  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

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  “A waiting person is a patient person. The word patience means the willingness to stay where we are and live the situation out to the full in the belief that something hidden there will manifest itself to us.”

  Henri J.M. Nouwen

  1

  Navy Richards drew in a deep breath as the ticket attendant made his way toward her. He seemed nice, fatherly, probably bored to death. He punched tickets and made small talk, but Navy didn’t feel any of the man’s calm energy. She gripped her ticket to Bride, Texas for all she was worth, wondering for the hundredth time if she’d decided correctly.

  Yes, she thought, reassuring herself for the hundred and first time. She needed a break from her insane job as a pediatric nurse. Needed a break from the dozens of dating apps she had uninstalled just the previous night. Needed a break from her perfect younger sister, her gorgeous husband, and their new baby—which Navy had helped deliver and then care for while her sister sat in the hospital bed like a celebrity.

  Familiar jealousy, bitterness, and frustration rose through her throat, and Navy didn’t like it. She didn’t want to feel that way about her only sister. About anyone. She’d prayed more often than she’d doubted her decision to take the leave of absence and move five hundred miles south for six months.

  Her feelings would subside for a few days, and then they came back—seemingly stronger and louder than before.

  “Ticket?”

  Navy pulled herself from her thoughts and extended her ticket toward the attendant. She had to force her fingers to loosen so he could take it and punch it. He didn’t linger with her, didn’t ask her why she was going to Bride on a bus, didn’t ask her how long she was staying. A sting started behind her heart, and Navy sighed as she leaned her head against the window and watched the Texas wilderness roll by.

  She couldn’t help her fantasies of finding and marrying a good man. She’d been working hard at it, going out with everyone who asked, signing up for every available dating app, kept as many evenings free as possible. At this point, she’d probably been out with every available bachelor in Amarillo.

  “Time for a change,” she whispered to her faint reflection in the glass. And so what if the change she wanted included a matchmaker? Why did Lexie get to dictate to Navy how she found her perfect catch? But her younger sister had definitely had plenty to say about Navy’s decision to travel to Bride and meet with an eighty-three-year-old matchmaker. None of it was nice. Or supportive. Or what Navy wanted to hear.

  After all, not everyone could get married, live in a quaint brick home with a white picket fence, and have a baby whenever they wanted by age twenty-eight. Oh, no. Navy was several years older than that and had practically handed Lexie her husband on a silver platter.

  She eradicated the thought of Scott before it could sour her mood further. She drew in another breath, prepared for anything once she arrived in Bride.

  Eight hours and two very stiff legs later, Navy disembarked from the bus in Bride, Texas. The heat and humidity in the night air was wonderful. As was the bright lights of the bus station before her. And the bubbling fountain across the street.

  Navy beamed at the water, where a statue of a young woman like her stood resolutely. This was the whole reason Navy had come. That statue and that wishing well would incite the change Navy needed in her life. Legend or not. Myth or not. Fantasy or fact. Navy didn’t care. She believed in the magic of this place, and she wasn’t going to let Lexie’s poisoned lectures influence her.

  The bus rumbled away, leaving Navy alone on the sidewalk, all of her bags with her. Reality descended, and she put on her backpack, shouldered her purse and then another bag, and tilted the wheeled suitcase behind her. The fact that she could fit her whole life into a few bags had surprised and saddened her, but now she felt liberated. She crossed the street without looking for traffic, because it seemed the downtown area where she’d arrived had already closed for the evening.

  As she arrived at the fountain, she did notice one establishment with bright lights still on. The Stable also boasted loud country music when the front doors opened and a couple spilled onto the street. They didn’t glance in her direction, and in the next moment, the lights dimmed and left Navy to herself.

  And the statue. She gazed up at Ellora Shepherd, at the way she seemed to watch the horizon for any sign of her true love. Navy’s heart softened for the bride who’d been jilted and then decided to stay right where God had put her. The town of Bride thrived now, just as Ellora had hoped, and the stories about how women came here to find their true love had given Navy more hope than she’d had in five years.

  Her own aunt had convinced her that the trip to Bride was warranted. She’d found her husband after a dance around this very statue and a meeting with the very person Navy had an appointment with the following day.

  A smile stole across Navy’s face, and she unburdened herself from her baggage. She cast a quick glance around to see if anyone was watching. She didn’t think nine-thirty was late, but apparently for this small town, and it being a weeknight, it was.

  She twirled and danced her way around the statue, a low hum in the back of her throat. A sense of wonderment and magic infected her, and she just knew tonight was the first night of the rest of her life. That she’d just finally done something to find the right person.

  A gasp of desperation ended her dance and she stilled next to her suitcases. She didn’t want millions of dollars. She didn’t need a big mansion. She spent fifty hours a week cradling and caring for babies, and she wanted one of her own. She wanted a husband to gaze at her with so much love, the way the new dads did in labor and delivery. They could live in a basement for all she cared.

  Please let this work, she said to the stars before bending and collecting her belongings. She’d told the people she was renting a cottage from she’d be there by ten, and she had a few blocks to walk before arriving.

  Thank you, she thought through every step. Thank you for giving me this opportunity in Bride, Texas.

  The following morning further proved to Navy that she’d moved into a shack. Last night, the darkness had obscured the grime, the fact that the linoleum cracked in front of the stove and peeled where it met the carpet.

  She’d rented the “cottage” from Ellora’s ancestors fo
r further luck in her quest to find a husband. The Shepherd’s had met her on the front porch and helped her carry her bags out to the cottage, which sat in a corner of their large, impressive yard. A rutted dirt lane led back to the cottage, and Navy needed to find some mode of transportation besides her feet.

  Or maybe she wouldn’t. She had her laptop, and the cottage did have electricity and Internet, so she was pretty set. She wasn’t planning to work while in Bride, as she’d only be here for six months. Really, she needed an escape from her life, a vacation to reset herself. So that when she returned to Amarillo she’d be ready to be the kind of woman a man couldn’t resist.

  She left the cottage and it’s lukewarm showers in favor of the late March Texas sunshine. Nothing could ruin today. Because today, Navy was meeting with Nancy Redd, the matchmaker who had promised Aunt Izzie that she’d marry a cowboy and live on a ranch. Navy wasn’t sure if ranch life was what she wanted, necessarily, but she believed Nancy could give her a push in the right direction.

  Aunt Izzie and Uncle Marvin had lived here in Bride for about a decade after their wedding. He’d worked at Sterling Ranch before it became a popular wedding destination, before they moved to Three Rivers, a small town about an hour west of Amarillo, to be closer to family. Uncle Marvin had worked at Three Rivers Ranch, which Navy’s cousin Heidi owned.

  As she approached the address she’d been given, Navy’s heart pounded with anticipation. Her footsteps slowed as she contemplated what Nancy would tell her. Her throat turned dry at the horrifying thought that perhaps there wasn’t a match for her on this earth.

  The house came into view, and it was obviously well kept. Clipped, green grass went right up to the street, where a mailbox stood straight and strong. A two-story house in pale blue boasted a bright red star above the front window. Rose bushes lined the sidewalk to the porch and along the front of the house. The only thing that seemed out of place was a birdhouse that looked like it had been put together by a bottle of Elmer’s glue, a vat of popsicle sticks, and gallons of finger paint.

  She gave the ugly lawn decoration a wary glance. Something drew her toward it and she stepped across the grass to examine it further. It sat up between a rose bush bearing peachy-colored blossoms and one with pink the color of lemonade. She couldn’t quite reach the birdhouse, but she didn’t really want to touch it.

  “You like that birdhouse?”

  Navy spun toward the masculine voice and took in the form of a man several inches taller than her and wide enough to block the sun. He wore a cowboy hat the color of graphite and a dark beard salted with loads of gray. Instant attraction sprang through her system at his maturity, at the scent of his cologne as it stuck in the air surrounding them.

  He watched her with a pair of dark, dangerous eyes, clearly waiting for something.

  She jolted to attention as embarrassment rushed to her face, heating it to the color of the red roses at the end of the line. “Oh, the birdhouse.” She looked at the hideous thing again. “It’s…did their grandson make it?”

  He tilted his head to the side, confusion evident in his expression. “What do you mean?”

  “It’s crafty.”

  “Crafty?”

  Navy got the impression that she’d said all the wrong things. “It looks…unique.”

  He crossed his arms, which only served to make his muscles that much more impressive. “It is unique. One of a kind, in fact.”

  “That’s a relief.” Navy added a short burst of laughter to her statement in an attempt to smooth things over with this man. “Well, I have an appointment, so I should get going.” She hooked her thumb over her shoulder and backed away from the man for a few steps before turning around completely.

  She felt the weight of his stare on her back, but she hadn’t come here to impress a surly cowboy with strange questions about a clearly dysfunctional birdhouse.

  No, she’d come here to find her soul mate, and there was only one person who could help her do that. So with a determined breath, she rounded the house and entered the door on the side, just as instructed.

  2

  Gavin Redd watched the blonde disappear around the side of his grandparents’ house, her words still echoing in his head. Unique. Unique. Unique.

  What did that mean?

  He glanced at the birdhouse, that yes, their grandson had made. Somehow he’d known not to say that he was the grandson, and oh, that he was forty years old.

  He yanked the birdhouse from the roses. His grandfather hadn’t even seen it yet, so it wouldn’t matter if Gavin took it back to his shop for a little more work. He passed the side entrance to his grandmother’s matchmaking studio, where the blonde had gone. His stomach twisted. How women could believe in that stuff escaped his understanding. He shook his head as the door closed, hoping his grandmother would let this woman down gently. No one had complained about anything his grandmother had done, but she was getting up there in years now, and Gavin wanted her to stop the whole matchmaking thing.

  The fact that he didn’t believe in it didn’t help. But it didn’t matter what he didn’t believe in. The matchmaking had seen his grandparents through some tough times, and still paid several of their bills.

  Your bills, he reminded himself as he retreated to the house next door, which his grandparents also owned and allowed him to live in rent-free. He earned his keep, to be sure. He mowed. Watered. Raked. Gardened. Now that the weather was turning warm again, his work outside would only increase.

  He generally enjoyed the time he spent in the yard and gardens with his grandfather, who adored roses and tomatoes above all other plants. He liked smiling at Grandmother as she rocked on the front porch and brought out pitchers of sweet tea and plates of cookies for when they needed a break.

  Gavin kept their house in good repair too, had adopted both of their dogs as his own, and generally made sure they were in good health and good spirits. He’d been taking care of them for a decade, and something gnawed at him in quiet moments like these.

  He entered his house and closed the door behind him, the birdhouse still clenched in his fist. He paused for a moment and allowed his thoughts to settle, gave himself a moment to breathe. And he knew his time here in Bride was nearly over.

  Problem was, he didn’t have anywhere else to go. With his Big Four-Oh Birthday last month, Gavin needed to start building his own life, and he’d wanted a ranch for as long as he could remember. He’d worked at the B&B for a while, but they’d fallen on hard times and couldn’t afford to pay him what he was worth. And Sterling Ranch was a ranch only because the sign said so. It wasn’t an operational ranch anymore, and he wasn’t interested in using his ranch management degree to oversee destination weddings.

  No, sir. Gavin wanted a big homestead, with cowboys living on-site, and acres and acres of land for cattle and horses and chickens. He wanted a wide open sky and a Texas breeze rolling across the countryside.

  There were ranches out there to be bought, but nothing in Gavin’s preferred location—near his family here—and within his budget. Admittedly, he didn’t have much, but he’d known men who’d bought ranches with less than he had.

  He set about cleaning up his breakfast from that morning, then took the lopsided birdhouse into the wood shop behind his house. He stared at it for several long seconds, trying to decide what the woman had seen in it.

  Trying to decide why he cared what she’d thought. She had beautiful blue eyes, and long hair the color of his favorite corn grits down at the Refill Bar & Grill. Her skin looked like she spent most of her time indoors. Either that, or she wore an excessive amount of sunscreen when she went outside.

  Nope, definitely an indoor type of woman, he thought as he picked up a hammer and pulled out a couple of errant nails. The whole birdhouse collapsed after that, leaving Gavin with a pile of wood at his feet, wondering how a couple of nails had held the whole thing together.

  He chuckled. No wonder the woman had been staring at it with such a look of abhorren
ce on her face. He’d stared at her for a good half a minute before going over to her, almost drawn to her like a magnet to metal.

  He shook his head and opened his phone. He could find a video online that would help him repair the birdhouse. Anything to drive a complete stranger from his mind.

  Gavin knew most people in Bride, and newcomers usually only stayed a week at most. Long enough to visit the Ellora Shepherd statue, maybe get hitched themselves, or to pass through on their way to southern Hill Country, where more rivers and prettier countryside existed.

  He didn’t have much patience for tourists, and even less for the women who came here looking for love. The town wasn’t quite big enough to provide matches for every female wanting one, and thankfully, his grandmother had taken to matching people with the type of man they should be looking for, not an actual man from Bride.

  Truth be told, Gavin didn’t trust anyone who’d listen to his grandmother for dating advice. He found them desperate and somewhat delusional to think someone could really give them what they needed just by spending a few minutes with them and asking a few questions.

  The blonde woman flashed through his mind as he set a blue-painted board against a red one. She certainly didn’t need help getting a date. Someone as beautiful as her probably went out with a new guy every night.

  Blue, Gavin’s yellow Lab, nosed his way into the shop, bringing Misfit and Miles with him. The dogs roamed as a pack, Blue their leader, across the three-acre property his grandparents owned. Blue flopped at Gavin’s feet, right on top of several pieces of wood he still needed to fit back together.