Wyatt's Pretend Pledge

by Liz Isaacson

  “I love you too. Thanks for cooking for us.”

  “Oh, that was Gramma Lucy and Jeremiah,” she said, stepping back. She wiped her tears, because she was so blessed to have such good sons.

  She met Skyler’s eye and moved over to sit beside him. “Save me this seat?”

  “Sure thing, Momma,” he said, smiling at her. She knew that smile, though, and it hid a lot of pain.

  Help Wyatt, she prayed as she put a slice of turkey on her plate.

  Bless Skyler, she added as she ladled gravy over her meat and potatoes.

  She glanced up and caught Micah watching Simone. And open the eyes of Micah and Simone so they can find true happiness.

  With her plate full, she returned to the table. “I sure do love you boys,” she said to Skyler, putting her arm around his shoulders. “Thank you so much for coming.”

  “I wouldn’t miss it, Momma,” he said, and she actually believed him.

  “Oh!” A cry went up from the table as four-year-old Denise had reached for something and had knocked over her apple cider.

  “I’ve got it,” Momma said, jumping up from the table. “It’s fine. Just fine.” After all, there was nothing she wanted more that to help those she loved, and as she wetted a washcloth at the kitchen sink, she thanked God once more for her greatest blessings—her husband, her children, and her grandchildren.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Marcy flew over Three Rivers, the rest of the town still in a stupor of turkey, no doubt. She herself had eaten plenty of poultry the day before, but she’d still managed to get up before the sun, get to the hangar, and get her fields done for the day.

  So thank you, Marce. I love you.

  She’d watched Wyatt’s special on the DSC, and wow. The man was made to be in front of crowds. She hadn’t known why he waved his hat like that, but she did now.

  And he summed up everything he felt for the people in his life so easy.

  Thank you.

  I love you.

  As she taxied to a stop and drove the airplane into the hangar, her nerves bubbled beneath the surface. She’d be seeing him in the flesh that day. And she couldn’t wait.

  She’d neglected some chores around the hangar over the past week or two as she’d finished up preparations on her father’s house so she and Bryan could list it for sale. They’d met with a realtor, who’d given her a list of things to do. They’d been easy, but Marcy had taken days to get them done, and the house had finally gone on the market on Monday.

  Since it was empty, she didn’t need to know every time there was a showing. She’d asked Charles, the realtor she’d hired, to let her know if feedback came in she needed to know about. Otherwise, she just wanted him to sell the house. Earn that commission she’d be paying him.

  She walked around the hangar and picked up the blue mechanic rags and put them in the washing machine. As she started it, she thought of Wyatt. He’d often done this chore for her, and she missed him more powerfully in that moment than she had before.

  She’d known she wanted him back for a couple of weeks now. They’d texted a little bit since then, but it seemed neither of them wanted to have their serious conversation over the phone. Especially not through texts.

  She finished her paperwork, changed the rags to the dryer, and drove home.

  Wyatt’s big, black truck sat in her driveway, with the man himself behind the wheel.

  Her heart flipped and flopped, and she was glad she’d prepared her surprise for him before she’d left to fly. She’d also brought in the holiday decorations from the garage, and she was grateful she wouldn’t have to put them up herself.

  She pulled into the garage, got out of the car, and turned toward Wyatt. He too slid from his truck, approaching her slowly.

  “Hi,” she said, tucking her hands in the pockets of her hoodie.

  “Hey.” He ducked his head and then lifted it to look at her. A smile touched his mouth, and Marcy wanted to run to him and hold him close.

  So she did.

  He laughed as he caught her around the waist.

  “I know it’s not fair,” she said as she balanced herself against his shoulders. “I’ve never felt stupider than I have since you left. I’m sorry.” She buried her face in his neck, the scent of that cologne and aftershave like coming home. “I’m sorry.”

  “I am too,” he said, gently setting her on the ground. He didn’t back up though and kept his strong arms around her. “I’ve missed you so much.”

  She held him as tight as he held her, realizing that now that they were together, she wasn’t as nervous. He soothed her anxiety, and that was priceless to her.

  “Come inside,” she said. “I have a surprise for you.”

  “You do?” He stepped back and gazed down at her.

  “And just so you know, I’m so sick of doing the laundry at the hangar. So I need you to come back and do that for me.”

  He chuckled, and Marcy laughed with him. They went inside, and Marcy glanced at the boxes of decorations, as well as the folder and ring on her kitchen counter. Wyatt almost always settled there at some point, and she hoped he would today too.

  She moved into the kitchen, and sure enough, Wyatt sat at the counter, right in front of the ring and the folder. “Marce, what’s this?”

  “That’s my wedding ring,” she said, turning to face him. Her pulse bobbed in her neck, but she looked right at him. “I watched your DSC special, and you’re an amazing man. I had no idea your hat waving meant those things.”

  He swallowed, his eyes bright.

  “I want to wear that ring again,” she said. “I’m in love with you, Wyatt Walker. And I don’t know how to share you with millions around the world, but I’m willing to figure it out if you’re willing to help me figure it out.”

  He picked up the ring and twirled it in his fingers. “I’m willing to do that.”

  Marcy smiled and moved around the counter. “Open the folder.”

  He met her eyes for a moment, and then did as she’d instructed. Only a few seconds passed while he studied the papers inside, and then he sucked in a breath.

  Time for speech number two.

  “I want to build a life with you, Wyatt,” she said, her voice catching on itself. “And we should build a home together. Not just a physical home, but a home between the two of us. So no matter where we are, if we’re together, we’re home.”

  He looked up at her. “You bought the house at Church Ranches.”

  “Yes,” she said. “And they’re already building it, so we can’t back out.”

  Dear Lord, she prayed. Please help me build a home and a life with this man.

  He looked back at the folder for several long seconds. Then in one fluid movement, he got to his feet, took her face in his hands, and kissed her.

  Joy dawned in her soul, and as she kissed him back—this tough, tender rodeo champion. Her husband. The man she loved—Marcy got all of her prayers answered.

  “I love you,” he murmured. “I love you so much.”

  “I love you too.” She laced her fingers behind his neck and kissed him again.

  “We’ll do the tree in the front window,” Wyatt said the next morning. His family got together the Friday and Saturday after Thanksgiving and decorated the ranch and homestead. The twins had already called dibs on the huge oak tree out front, and it was almost done. They’d been out at the ranch for most of the afternoon yesterday, because the oak was such a big job.

  Rhett’s family had loaded up all the boxes they needed to spruce up the front fence with Christmas ornaments, garland, and wreaths.

  He looked at Marcy. “It’s fifteen feet tall.”

  “So you’ll be setting it up,” she said. “I’ll decorate the bottom half.”

  He grinned at her as Jeremiah said he and Whitney would do the tree there in the living room. Marcy had never had two trees in her house before, but the homestead could probably hold half a dozen Christmas trees.

  Whitney cooed a
nd grinned at her son from a spot on the living room couch, and Micah was just finishing his cup of coffee.

  Their momma stood at the stove, humming. She broke her tune to say, “I’ll have the wassail ready in an hour, and the mac and cheese will be done then too.”

  Marcy walked over to her while Wyatt recruited Micah to come work on the front window display. “We have to do the porch too,” he said. “And you can get up on the ladder for me. My back can’t handle that.”

  She glanced over at her husband, slightly worried about his back. He’d probably over-exerted himself on tour, and she’d have to ask him about it later.

  “Hey, Momma.” Marcy put her arm around Wyatt’s mother and leaned into her.

  “Morning, dear.” She squeezed her back and looked over to Wyatt, Micah, and Jeremiah as they walked out the back door. “So you and Wyatt made up?”

  Marcy couldn’t help smiling. “Yes,” she said. “I just told him I wanted him, and I wanted to build a life with him, and I was really sorry.” She breathed in the scent of cinnamon, cloves, and hot apple cider. “And it seemed to work.”

  “That boy has a heart of marshmallow,” Momma said with a chuckle. “But he would’ve taken you back no matter what. He’s loved you for a long time.”

  Marcy knew that, but she’d never get tired of hearing it. Wyatt had said he loved her yesterday, probably a dozen times. In the kitchen. As he took her down the hall to their bedroom and made love to her. When he took her to Musgraves for dinner.

  “I need—can someone take Jonah?” Whitney asked, her voice on the heavy side of panic.

  Marcy spun toward her and hurried over to her. “I’ve got him. Are you okay?”

  But Whitney rushed away before she answered, making a mad dash toward the bathroom in the hallway behind the office. She retched, and Marcy’s concern spiked. Jonah fussed on her hip, and she bounced him. “It’s okay, baby,” she said. “Mommy just doesn’t feel good.”

  “She’s pregnant,” Momma said. “She just hasn’t told Jeremiah yet.”

  “And she told you?” Marcy’s eyebrows went up, and she glanced toward the front door, toward where the bathroom sat.

  “She hasn’t told anyone,” Momma said. “But she was sick at lunch yesterday too.”

  “Maybe she has a flu bug.”

  Whitney came out of the bathroom, and her usually pale skin was a deathly gray color. She gave Marcy a weak smile and said, “Thank you. I’ll take him.”

  Marcy handed the little boy back to his mother and watched as Whitney curled up into the corner of the couch and laid her son over her shoulder, patting his back. Within a couple of minutes, they were both asleep.

  “Yep,” Momma said. “She’s pregnant.”

  “Jonah is only five months old.”

  “Jeremiah wanted a lot of kids,” she said, smiling. “Guess he’s gonna get them.”

  Marcy saw the men returning, each of them carrying boxes. “They’re coming back.”

  “Okay, don’t say anything. It’s not our news to tell.” Momma lifted a frying pan off the stove and moved over to the sink to wash it.

  “Honey, you should see how many decorations these boys have,” Gideon said, holding the door for his sons. “We don’t need to buy any.”

  “I’m buying all new stuff, Gideon,” Momma said. “In fact, it’s time to go. The store will be open by now.”

  Gideon sure didn’t look enthused about going Christmas ornament shopping with his wife, but he closed the door behind Micah and walked over to where she stood at the sink, drying her hands on a tea towel.

  Momma gave Marcy one more hug, and then they left. Wyatt had taken the tree down the hall to the front room in the house, which apparently used to be an office that Tripp and Liam had once shared. Now that they both had their own homes, the room acted a bit like a library, and Jeremiah had put a comfortable couch in the room, with a recliner and a tall lamp that shone light down on whoever might sit in the room to read.

  “It’s a huge window,” she said, admiring it. “I think our place will have big windows like this in the front.” She turned to Wyatt, who was wrestling with the pre-lit Christmas tree—and losing. “Can we put wreaths on all of our windows?”

  “What?” he asked, looking up at her, his cowboy hat askew.

  Marcy giggled and stepped over to him to push the box down. The boughs of the tree scraped against the cardboard and popped out. Wyatt went stumbling backward a step or two, a grunt coming from his mouth.

  He wore a dark look as he settled his hat straightly on his head. “You’re saying we’ll have to do this at our house too?” He shook his head. “Can we hire someone?”

  Marcy tipped her head back and laughed. “Yes, cowboy billionaire. You can hire someone to hang wreaths on our house.”

  “Good,” he said with a smile. “Now, let’s get this tree set up so we can move on with our lives.”

  “You don’t like decorating for Christmas?”

  “Not particularly.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “I like it when it’s done,” he said. “I think it’s pretty. But I think I might be allergic to this fake pine stuff.” He looked down at his arms, already scratching at the little red dots.

  “I think you are,” Marcy said, surprised. “Well, at least we know you’re not immortal.”

  He looked at her, shock in his eyes. They softened quickly, and he reached for her before she could dart out of the way. “Come here, Mrs. Walker,” he said.

  She squealed, but she didn’t put up a real fight against him. She wouldn’t win anyway, as he outweighed her two to one. He kissed her, and Marcy kissed him right back.

  “I’m not helping if you’re going to make out in front of me.”

  Marcy broke the kiss and snuggled into Wyatt’s chest to hide her face. Embarrassment funneled through her.

  “Sorry, Mike,” Wyatt said, stepping back. “We won’t.” He gave Marcy a look that said they’d pick up that kiss later, when they were alone, and she ducked her head again to hide her smile.

  “Sorry, Micah,” she said. She hadn’t been around Seven Sons or the Walker brothers much over the course of the last few months, but she knew there was something bothering Micah.

  Wyatt got the tree set up while Micah kept bringing in boxes of ornaments. Marcy had never seen so many balls and baubles, tinsel and picks, flowers and bows.

  “I’ll get the lights up outside,” Micah said, taking a box out there.

  Marcy worked with Wyatt, and an hour later, the tree glittered with hope, brotherly love, and peace. “It’s really pretty,” she said.

  “Let’s go see it through the window.” Wyatt took her outside, where Micah was looping long pine tree garlands through the porch railing. She followed Wyatt down the steps and to the front yard, and sure enough, looking back at the house, with the lights on the gutters now, the garland in the railing, the wreath on the front door—and the Christmas tree visible in the window—the homestead looked like a lodge right off a Hallmark movie poster.

  Wyatt put his arm around her, and she leaned into him. “I love Christmas,” she said.

  “Me too, sweetheart,” he said. “And I can’t wait for us to celebrate our first Christmas together.”

  Marcy couldn’t wait for that either. She couldn’t wait to start building a new version of home with him, and a thread of happiness pulled through her.

  Thank you, Lord, she thought. Thank you for forgiving me. For helping me get out of my own way. For allowing me the opportunity to say I’m sorry.

  Thank you.

  I love you.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  On Christmas morning, Wyatt woke next to his wife. That fact made him so very happy, and he took a moment to study Marcy and admire her beauty.

  There was so much more to her than a pretty face, that was for sure. He reached over and ran his fingertips down the side of her face. She stirred, and Wyatt watched her wake up, pure peace streaming through him.


  “Merry Christmas, my wife,” he whispered when her eyes opened all the way.

  A soft smile touched that mouth he loved so much. “Merry Christmas, my husband.”

  “Do you want to make the coffee, and I’ll see if Santa came?”

  “I want to make the coffee, because you’re not great at it,” she said.

  Wyatt chuckled, touched his lips to hers and kissed her sweetly. “I want to leave in time to go by the house in the Ranches before we go to Seven Sons.”

  “Okay.” She rolled away from him and sat up on her side of the bed. She pulled a robe over her nightgown and walked out of the bedroom while Wyatt was still in bed. He groaned as he sat up too, knowing he needed to tell her about his back. He feared going to the doctor, because he was worried he needed another surgery.

  He stretched toward the wall, going as far as he could. First to the left, then the right. He leaned forward, working out the kink in his back one inch at a time.

  “What are you doing?” Marcy called. “I see presents out here, and one of them is huge!”

  Wyatt stood up with a smile and pulled a shirt over his head. Down the hall, he saw that Santa had indeed found the Christmas tree at Marcy’s house. “Would you look at that?”

  Marcy crouched in front of the tree. “It has my name on it.” She turned and looked at him, her bright blue eyes dancing with merriment.

  “Open it,” he said, the faint scent of coffee starting to waft through the house.

  “I got you a much smaller present,” she said, straightening. “You’re a very hard man to buy for.”

  He took her into his arms, enjoying the softness of her body next to his. “You’re all I need, sugar.”

  She smiled up at him, turned back to the tree, and plucked an envelope from its boughs. “Remember, it’s the thought that counts.”

  Wyatt grinned at her and opened the envelope. It had a fancy certificate in it for a bacon of the month club. He laughed and drew her into a hug. “I love bacon so much.”

  “Every month for a year,” she said. “I’ll even fry it up for you.”