At Long Last, a Bride

by Susan Crosby

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  Dixie hugged her, then didn’t let go for a long time, not until Shana finally relaxed into the embrace.

  The night was cold and dark by the time Shana and Emma had been delivered home and Dixie returned to her new apartment. All hers. For the first time.

  She wandered around, opening cupboards, checking to see what was put where, discovering cleaning products and equipment, jars of herbs and spices, even a used tackle box stocked with basic tools and hardware. Her framed photographs and art were stacked in a cardboard box, awaiting her decision on where to put them. She needed to buy a couch, a dining room table and chairs, an entertainment unit. She needed a rug so the hardwood floors wouldn’t seem cold during the winter.

  For now, she could live with it.

  But it was quiet. She hadn’t arranged for cable TV yet, so there was no sense turning it on. She could take a bubble bath.

  Instead she pulled her cell phone from her pocket and called Joe. He answered on the second ring.

  “Hey,” he said.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. However, I didn’t do much of the work because I had to leave.”

  “It’s because of you that it happened. I can’t tell you how it made me feel.” She climbed onto her bed, relaxed into the pillows. “Please thank your family for me.”

  “You don’t intend to?”

  She clutched the phone. “I’ve been thinking I need to limit my contact with them.”

  “Dixie, you love them. They love you.”

  “Yes, on both counts. I’m not saying I won’t see them, just that I need to step away a little. You know why, Joe. You do.”

  “My sisters-in-law are two of your best friends. Your friendship predates their marriages.”

  “It gets complicated, doesn’t it?” Yes, Keri and Laura were good friends. Dixie didn’t know how she would resolve that situation. “Where are you?”

  “In a hotel by the Burbank airport.”

  “How was your flight?”

  “It was strange. Everyone seemed so laid-back. I suppose I was the only one on the plane who’d never flown before. I was glad when it landed.”

  She smiled. She’d flown a couple of times. She’d felt exactly the same.

  “Then there was the whole rental car business,” he said. “I suppose it’ll get easy with practice.”

  It had been a long time since they’d had such a normal conversation.

  “How’d things go with Shana?” he asked.

  “Not bad. She hasn’t confided about Emma’s father yet.”

  “She needs to learn to trust again, just like you.”

  He was absolutely right. “Well, I won’t keep you,” she said. “I just wanted to thank you for what you did for me.”

  “Enjoy your first night.”

  They hung up. She brushed her hand along the empty spot beside her on the bed. At Nana Mae’s she’d slept in a twin bed. She could sprawl in this one.

  She decided to take that bubble bath, after all. Before she got up, however, she dialed Aggie McCoy, who had borne and raised the thoughtful Joe. Now sixty-eight, she’d been widowed for almost eleven years, a beautiful, generous, gregarious woman with bottle-black hair and the kindest heart ever.

  Dixie hated that Joe’s family would be caught in the middle of their split. She didn’t want anyone to take sides. Joe was theirs, and that was that.

  “Hi, it’s Dixie,” she said when Aggie answered the phone.

  “Hi, sweetheart. How’re you?”

  Just the sound of her voice had Dixie’s heart breaking. “I’m grateful and stunned and happy. Thank you so much.”

  “It was Joe’s idea.”

  Dixie smiled at how everyone gave Joe the credit, as if fighting the fight for him. “But I know you. You ran the show. Please tell everyone thanks, okay?”

  “Why, Dixie Callahan. You know how we thank people in our family.”

  You give a party, that’s how. And everyone brings a dish to share and helps clean up. Dixie didn’t know how she could do that.

  “You’re not divorcing us, you know, Dixie.” Aggie’s voice had gone soft. “You know how it is for the McCoys.”

  No babies out of wedlock and no divorces. Yes, she knew the McCoy legacy. Everyone knew. “I’m not a McCoy. And you know darn well that things will get complicated at some point.”

  “You know what they say about crossing bridges when we come to them. But consider this. Every McCoy except Isabella is a client of yours, and it won’t be long before that sweet baby is one. That’s thirty-four-plus customers you would lose. Can you afford that?”

  It would never come down to money. Dixie knew that, knew that Aggie was just teasing her. “You all get a family discount.”

  “Well, I sure don’t want to lose that!”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay? We’re good? No more talk of leaving the family?”

  “We’re good.” The rest she couldn’t promise.

  “So, when’s the party?”

  Dixie laughed. “Soon. I promise.”

  “I hear Shana’s back in town. And she’s got a little one.”

  Dixie didn’t want any lectures about Shana or stretching herself too thin or taking care not to be taken advantage of. “Emma. She’s four months old and adorable.”

  “How about inviting them to Thanksgiving dinner? I know your folks are out of town.”

  Dixie hadn’t thought that far ahead, although it was only four days. “Thank you, but—”

  “Dixie,” Aggie said, her voice steady. “You know what Thanksgiving is like here. All the strays come, all the ones whose family live too far away to see, or who don’t have any family at all to share the day with. We’ve never had fewer than fifty people. Come.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “You know I’ll send the boys over to hog-tie you, so you might as well plan on it now.”

  “All right. All right. Uncle.”

  “That’s better. See? We’ve already made it past the awkward first phone call. It’ll get easier.”

  Dixie didn’t think so, but she decided right at that moment to take things a day at a time. She wasn’t going to make promises she couldn’t keep or worry about things she couldn’t change. She was done crying. She was done fearing what she might lose.

  It was Dixie Callahan’s Life, Act Two. Intermission over. On with the show.

  Chapter Seven

  Joe eyed the chaos that was Thanksgiving at his mother’s house. Having just arrived, he made his way to the kitchen, where laughter and conversation spilled out, the tones all feminine, the air fragrant with roasting turkey. The room was large enough to hold all the women of his family plus extras, all weaving around each other like bees in a hive, his mother its queen.

  Aggie spotted Joe in the kitchen doorway. “There’s my baby boy now,” she said. Everyone else greeted him, then went back to their tasks. Aggie swept him into a fierce hug. “When did you get back?”

  “Late last night. Everything smells good, Mom.” And every aroma was a memory of Thanksgivings past.

  “How’d it go?” Aggie asked.

  “Good. Excellent, in fact.” He’d been hired as official consultant to guide the small city through the process of creating a community-wide compost program like the model he’d created in Chance City. He’d stayed a day longer than he’d expected to help put together a grant for funds to get started, as he’d done in his hometown, the first step in his sudden rise in status, professionally and financially.

  Aggie leaned close. “I invited Kincaid, just like you asked.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I’ve asked him before, you know, because he always seemed to be alone, but he had some excuse every time. This time he couldn’t say yes fast enough.”

  No surprise there. “Did Dixie come?” He hadn’t seen her yet. Usually she could be found in the middle of the hive, her golden hair like a spotlight, making her instan
tly visible.

  “She’s getting the cranberry sauce out of the garage refrigerator. She could probably use some help,” she said, her expression unusually blank.

  Joe resisted the temptation. “She’ll holler if she does. Anything I can do?”

  “You’ve done more than your share for years.”

  “Idle hands, you know,” he said with a grin. Everyone worked, and even the three-year-olds had tasks to do.

  “Your brothers are lighting the outdoor heaters. Go help them. We’ll be carving the turkeys pretty soon. Wait. Hang on a sec.” She opened an ice chest and pulled out a beer. “Here.”

  He found Jake and Donovan watching the littlest kids clamoring over the play structure in the backyard. The heaters were lit, keeping the covered patio warm enough for guests to escape the crush inside the house.

  Joe loved having his brothers home for good—not because it had freed him to go off himself, but because they weren’t just brothers, but great friends, too. Jake, seven years older than Joe, had spent years on the road doing specialized security work. Donovan, four years younger than Jake, was an acclaimed photojournalist who’d gotten his kicks out of being in the thick of the action, whether wars or protest marches or peace sit-ins.

  And now they’d both found the loves of their lives and different, less risky jobs to do, and had come home to love their wives and raise their children.

  The McCoy genes dominated in the three brothers. People often commented on how much they looked alike, which was one of the reasons why Joe had grown his hair long as a teenager and kept it that way. He wanted to be seen as different.

  “The conqueror returns,” Donovan said, spotting him, pounding his back in greeting. “How does it feel to do a job that doesn’t get dirt under your nails?”

  “Weird, actually.” He’d never minded getting dirty. He loved working the soil, seeing what he could coax from nothing but dirt, seeds and water. “I’ve worked ten times harder for one-tenth the money.”

  Jake tapped his bottle of beer to Joe’s. “What’d I tell you?”

  “That people will pay well for expertise. You were right. How’s everything been here?”

  “I haven’t seen Dixie all week,” Donovan said, purposely narrowing the question to the person he thought Joe was really interested in.

  “Me, either,” added Jake.

  “I’m right here.” Dixie came up beside them, her arms wrapped around a tub of homemade cranberry sauce.

  “Let me get that,” Joe said, passing his beer to Jake and reaching for the container.

  “I’ve got it, thanks. These muscles haven’t atrophied from disuse yet.”

  One thing they’d done together through the years was work out. And she’d been a wrestler in high school. He’d always found her physical strength sexy.

  “Did you have a good trip?” she asked.

  She seemed to be forcing herself to be friendly. Her lips were smiling, but her eyes weren’t. “Yeah, thanks.”

  “Kincaid has papers for you to sign, when you’ve got time. I already have.”

  “No problem.”

  She headed to the back door just as Kincaid came out. They exchanged a few words, then he took the tub from her and followed her inside. Into the silence that descended over the brothers came Keri and Laura, who stumbled outside, laughing, each racing to her own husband and hugging him.

  “Our first McCoy Thanksgiving,” Keri said, her eyes sparkling. “What a zoo. Tell Laura and me that you get used to it.”

  “Get used to what?” Donovan asked.

  “The noise. The activity. The crazi… Oh,” Laura said. “You were teasing.”

  He looked blankly at his brothers. “Is it noisy here? Crazy?”

  “I don’t see it,” Jake said, looking around.

  Joe smiled, but he also envied his brothers having wives to tease, to nestle against them and close their eyes as if napping standing up.

  You could have that.

  Yes, he could, but at what cost? Regret would haunt him, which would make him a bad husband in the long run.

  Kincaid joined them. “Wow,” he said, a bewildered look in his eyes. “Just…wow.”

  “That’s what I was trying to say,” Keri said. “You were so much more eloquent.”

  Kincaid actually laughed. Joe studied him, speculating. Was his plan working? Had Kincaid asked Dixie out yet? She let him carry the container of cranberry sauce, but turned down Joe. What did that mean?

  “There are five turkeys,” Kincaid said. “Three roasted, one deep fried and one barbecued. There are four kinds of stuffing.”

  “Four?” Jake looked shocked. “That’s not enough variety. What’s wrong with this family? We’re slipping.”

  Keri shoved him, laughing.

  “Did you see the desserts?” Kincaid went on, still obviously amazed. “I counted twelve pies, and I heard there’s more in the garage, where it’s cooler. Can you even move after you eat?”

  “Sure. We play touch football,” Donovan said. “And dodgeball. And whatever else keeps the kids occupied while the dishes are cleaned up.”

  “Then there’s the biggest game of all—take down the tables and chairs,” Jake said.

  Joe felt his brothers watching him, probably wondering why he wasn’t contributing to the conversation. He didn’t like how easily Kincaid fit. He and Donovan had graduated from high school together. Most recently, Donovan had rented one of Kincaid’s houses. But Kincaid hadn’t come to the town picnics and parades, or any other occasion, not that Joe could recall, anyway.

  And now he fit in, without awkwardness, without hesitation.

  Dixie came out the back door. She stopped for a moment, watching the group, then joined them, coming up next to Kincaid, who smiled at her.

  Joe wanted to smash his teeth out.

  His fists clenched. He swigged his beer.

  “I’ve got some paperwork for you to sign,” Kincaid said to Joe.

  “Dixie told me.”

  Joe felt everyone’s gaze on him, and made himself relax his tone, even as his gut churned. “I can come to your office tomorrow, if you want. How about nine o’clock?”

  “That’s good. Then I’ll stop by your house later and put up the For Sale sign.”

  Joe looked at his watch. He had to get away before he said or did something regrettable, or even irreparable. “I’m going to help carve a turkey or two.”

  A little later, dinner was finally served. Joe took a seat at the kids’ table, his usual, chosen spot. After a minute, he felt someone sit beside him. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a flash of golden hair—

  “If your family gets any larger, you’ll have to start renting a hall,” Shana said.

  Disappointment hit him hard. He didn’t want to examine why.

  “If it was only family, Shana, it wouldn’t be a problem,” he said, then was annoyed at himself. He’d always liked that they opened their home up to others. It was what made the holidays special to him.

  “Gee. Thanks so much for making a girl feel welcome.” She grabbed her plate and started to stand.

  He stopped her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean you.” He’d meant Kincaid, but Joe had no right to complain, since he’d asked his mother to invite the man. “You’re family.”

  She stared at him. “Am not.”

  “Well, Dixie is. And you’re her family. Therefore…”

  Shana sat again. “You live in some fantasy world. Just like the rest of your family.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You’re a smart guy. You figure it out.” She took a bite of mashed potatoes and gravy, then closed her eyes. “Oh, man, this is good.”

  “Uncle Joe. Uncle Joe.”

  “What, Ethan?” Joe asked the five-year-old seated next to him.

  “How come there’s no lemon pie? There’s always lemon pie. It’s your favorite.” He grinned. “And mine.”

  No lemon pie? Dixie hadn’t made one? She always made on
e so that he would have the dessert he loved most.

  “Dixie didn’t have time, Ethan,” Shana said around Joe. “She’s been very busy.”

  “Oh. Do you think if I ask her, she’d make one for me later when she’s not busy?”

  “I’ll tell you what,” Shana said. “I’ll make you one. We need to let Dixie get her work done for now.”

  “Okay!”

  Shana jabbed her elbow into Joe’s side. “Quit moping. It’s unmanly.”

  She had a point. Everything that was happening was because of his own actions. He had no one else to blame. “Men don’t mope. They brood,” he said.

  She laughed. “Brooding only works for Heathcliff and other gothic heroes.”

  He smiled. “Dix cut your hair.”

  She shook her head back, her hair soft and healthy, far different from not even a week ago when she’d arrived. “Yeah. Looks nice, hmm? You should try it sometime.”

  Actually, he’d been thinking about it. Maybe it was time to look more professional when he made his presentations. Then again, maybe people saw him as a man of the earth, the eco-friendly landscaper, and cutting it might change his image too much.

  Regardless, he couldn’t ask Dixie to be the one to cut it.

  Shana leaned close. “Do you like that guy Kincaid? Do you trust him?”

  Everything in Joe went on alert. “Don’t you?”

  “There’s something I can’t put my finger on. Dixie says that no one really knows him. That he’s lived here for years, but doesn’t have friends.”

  “I think that’s overstating it. Maybe he just doesn’t have a lot of friends here in town.” But she’d identified a problem that made Joe suspicious now, when he hadn’t been before. Jealous, yes. He’d been jealous—and angry at himself for setting up a business deal that kept Kincaid and Dixie in close touch.

  He should’ve checked Kincaid out better. There had to be a reason why the man was never seen socializing.

  What had started as Joe’s way of making it easier on himself to leave had just gotten complicated. Would he now have to keep a closer eye on Dixie instead of moving away from her?