Unbelievable: The Port Fare Series Book Two

by Sherry Gammon

  “I think it’s perfect.”

  “Me, too. Wait here.” She left me on the patio. The yard looked stunning, with clusters of daisies and greenery everywhere. How they pulled this all together so quickly was beyond me. Pastor Williams stood in front of a beautiful pond with an amazing waterfall. Orange and yellow bows were tied around the planters that lined the pathway to the pastor. Maggie, Seth, and Booker all stood up front waiting. Cole stepped out on the deck, looking incredible in a black suit with a bold orange tie. Maggie, I assumed, had gotten him the tie to match the ribbon of my dress. Cole took one step toward me and stopped.

  “You are so beautiful,” he said reverently.

  “Thank you. So are you. Where did you get the suit on such short notice?”

  “Dr. Skiba lent it to me. Don’t tell anyone, but I had to duct tape the hem. He’s six-foot seven.” I laughed, removed an orange flower from my bouquet, and put it in the button hole on his lapel. He tucked my arm in the crook of his.

  “Will you marry me, Lilah?”

  “Yes. I can think of nothing I want more,” I assured him. “Your family’s going to hate me. First you have brain surgery and don’t tell them because of me; then you get married and they’re not invited, again, because of me.”

  “No. They’ll understand. I promise. Besides, after everything is over, we’ll have a big fancy wedding, the wedding of your dreams, and they can come to that.”

  “This is the wedding of my dreams, Cole.”

  “I wish we had more time. I wanted to write you something special like Maggie and Seth did at their wedding.” Cole said. “At best, I can quote you a line from Shakespeare that sums up my feelings.”

  “Shakespeare is always good.”

  “Shakespeare it is, then.” He smiled. “‘This is the very ecstasy of love.’”

  “Hamlet, Act II, Scene one,” I said. He nodded, kissing my forehead. “I’d quote the poem I wrote to you but you’ve already read it.”

  “What poem?”

  “The one in the letter from yesterday.”

  “Lilah, I destroyed that letter. I couldn’t stand the thought of. . .” I squeezed his hand as his eyes shut momentarily. “I’d love to hear it.”

  “It’s no Shakespeare. I’m an artist, not a writer. It’s titled, The Touch of You.”

  “I like the title.” He bounced his eyebrows playfully.

  “Okay, but remember, I warned you.”

  “The touch of your eyes on mine steels the troubled waters that surround me;

  “The touch of your hand in my hand steels the beat of my weary heart;

  “The touch of your breath on my skin steels the restless air of my jaded breast.

  “But it is the touch of your lips as they capture mine that steals my very soul,

  “And encircles it with love, inside of yours, its new home, forever.

  “I know, it’s no—” He stopped my words with a kiss.

  “Shakespeare pales in comparison. I love it. Thank you.”

  I laughed softly at his exaggeration. “You’re welcome.”

  Booker cleared his throat. “I do believe you jumped the gun. The kiss is supposed to be last.”

  Cole took my hand and together we walked down the path to our destiny. As we reached the pond, Cole whispered in my ear, “Oh, one more thing. My real name isn’t Cole. It’s—”

  “Dearly beloved,” began Pastor Williams.

  Cole’s not his real name?

  The ceremony was a blur. My eyes never left Cole, or whatever his real name was, as Pastor Williams spoke of love, marriage, and forgiveness.

  “Repeat after me,” he instructed Cole. “I, Duckworth Grimshad Colter . . .”

  Cole’s eyes lit up with humor at the sound of his name. Booker snickered, as did Maggie. Seth, who I assumed already knew Cole’s real name, only grinned.

  Cole shrugged and recited his vows. When it came to me, instead of calling me Delilah, mercifully he said Lilah.

  “You may kiss the bride.” And Duckworth Grimshad did.

  “Okay, enough. You’re going to wilt the flowers,” Booker teased. Cole turned and hugged Book, who shook his head. “All these years I’ve been calling you’ve Doc when you’ve had a perfectly horrible name I could’ve been using?”

  Cole ignored him and hugged Seth and Maggie. He thanked the pastor, who had to leave to perform another wedding.

  Maggie sprinted over to me, tears still in her eyes. “That was so beautiful.” She circled me in her arms and hugged me tight.

  “Thank you for everything, Mags.” I dabbed at the tears in my own eyes. “You made it so beautiful.”

  “I had a blast. I’m seriously thinking about going into the wedding planning business instead of interior design.”

  “Still interested in a partner?”

  “Yes,” she said. “As soon as you get back, let’s get together and decide what we want to do.”

  “Excuse me, but I’d like to ask my lovely wife if she’ll dance with me.” Cole took my hand in his.

  “Yes, husband, I’d love to.” We walked out into the lush grass, my four inch heels sinking in with each step. I slipped them off.

  “I was hoping you’d leave those on.” Cole lifted me in his arms and twirled me.

  “I’m afraid I’ll fall.”

  “I’ll catch you,” he promised. I had no doubt he would. “I liked having you closer to my lips.” He kissed my neck playfully.

  “I’ll put them back on.”

  “It’s okay.” He set me down. “Dance with me.” A soft, sensuous Marc Anthony song poured out over Booker’s sound system. I’d never heard the Latin tune before. Cole and I moved slowly to the rhythm, our eyes locked on each other as the music enveloped us. Neither of us spoke. No sooner had the song ended when he scooped me up in his arms again.

  “Think it’d be rude if we left?” he nuzzled in my ear.

  “Oh no, you don’t.” Maggie stepped up to Cole. “You have to cut the cake.” She stared him down. Reluctantly, he set me back on the grass. “It will only take a minute,” she promised.

  Seth carried out a two-layer white cake. An orange ribbon encircled each layer, with the top covered in more Gerber daisies.

  “It’s so pretty.” As Seth sat it down, I walked around the table to see it from all sides.

  Booker handed me a long silver knife with a yellow bow tied to it. “I hope you cut cake better than you do watermelon,” he grinned.

  I wrapped my hand around Cole’s and we sliced a small piece out. We fed each other as Seth snapped away on his camera.

  When we finished, Cole took my hand. “Thank you, everyone, for making this day even more special. I couldn’t love you all more if we actually shared DNA.” Everyone nodded in agreement. “Now if you’ll excuse me, we’re out of here.” Booker and Seth laughed heartily. Maggie grinned at me. For once, it was my ears that burned.

  “Wait, Ducky,” Booker said. “I’m planning on spending the evening and probably most of tomorrow working on the mantel for your fireplace.” He smiled his Cheshire cat grin and added, “If you don’t have any plans, I could use your help.”

  Cole laughed. “Yeah, let me get back to you on that.”

  “Sounds great. I’ll be at the office complex. My tools are still over there.”

  I snatched up my shoes as we went back through the house and out to Cole’s car. “Where are we going?” I asked, buckling my seatbelt.

  “Booker reserved a room in the Poconos for four days as a wedding gift, but that’s not ’til tomorrow. I have a place in mind for tonight. I’ll need to stop and grab some clothes. I forgot to pack a bag.”

  “At your house?”

  “No, our house.” He weaved his fingers in mine. “I’ll bring my newly rebound Shakespeare book, too, unless you can think of something else you want to do,” he teased.

  “I’m sure we can think of something. Maybe you could do some concentrating.”

  “Oh, I’m hoping to do a lot of co
ncentrating.” He smiled mischievously as we drove home, our security guard in tow.

  Chapter 41

  I woke, smiling. I glanced around the room I’d barely noticed yesterday, having more important things on my mind. The hotel’s décor reminded me of a castle, with its rich burgundy drapes and huge fireplace. The bed, a California king as Cole requested when we checked in, was mammoth, even larger than the one he’d picked out for his bedroom.

  I looked out the open patio doors, and saw my husband sitting in a white bathrobe, reading a book. “You can take the boy out of the hospital, but you can’t take the hospital out of the boy,” I sighed softly to myself. Snagging the matching white robe in the chair next to the bed, I slipped it on and joined him on the patio.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Duckworth Grimshad Colter,” he said as I settled onto his lap, his deep blue eyes smiling at me.

  “Good morning, Ducky. How’s your head?” I glanced at the scar.

  “Good. Haven’t had a headache in four days,” he assured me.

  “Thanks for the warning, by the way. How in the world did you get Cole from Duckworth Grimshad?”

  He chuckled. “From Colter. Cole was my father’s nickname growing up. His name is also Duckworth Grimshad. It’s a family name, handed down to the seventh son. It’s my grandfather’s name and his father’s name. It’s a Colter family tradition.”

  “This explains why you want all boys. You hope to pass the lovely name down to one of your sons,” I said sarcastically.

  “Thank heavens for nicknames,” he said.

  “Yes, Ducky. Thank heavens.” I kissed him softly. “Last night was amazing.” I traced my finger around his lips.

  “I am a doctor, Lilah. I should hope I know my way around female anatomy. Just wait until I have my strength back,” he promised, running a line of kisses up my neck. “I may have done some research, too,” he admitted reluctantly.

  “Research?” I pulled back, my eyes narrowing.

  “I have a confession. After you agreed to marry me, I went and talked to a colleague of mine, Dr. Brotherson.”

  “The marriage counselor at the hospital?”

  “Yes. She wrote a well-respected book on the subject of intimacy in marriage, and I bought a copy from her. She even signed it.” He showed me her signature.

  “You’re telling me that for the past day and a half you’ve been Brain Gaming last night?” I asked, flummoxed. I took the book and skimmed it. He’d highlighted page after page and made notes in the margins.

  “Lilah, it was our first night together, I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

  “Cole,” I said, touched by his concern, “you could never disappoint me. If last night were a dismal failure, I wouldn’t have been disappointed.”

  “You say that now,” he laughed, “but I guarantee if last night was a dismal failure, you’d be singing a different tune.” He opened it to the table of contents. “See, it talks about both the physical aspects of intimacy, and the emotional side. This is not some silly little how-to guide.”

  Three beeps halted the conversation. My cell phone, alerting me that my battery was about to die. “You left your phone on?” Cole asked.

  “We were a little busy last night when we came in. Honestly, I forgot I even owned a cell phone.”

  “Oh, yeah, page twenty-seven. That was pretty great,” he gloated.

  “Page twenty-seven,” I mumbled, crawling off his lap and going back into the room. I dug through the pile of discarded clothes strewn across the bedroom floor in an effort to find my phone.

  “Why are you looking for it right now?” Cole laid across the bed and propped himself up on his left elbow, watching me hunt through the wreckage.

  “I want to shut it off; otherwise it will beep for hours.” My hand landed on a lump under one of Cole’s socks. My phone. I pulled up the screen. “I got a text from Booker.” I climbed back on the bed and into Cole’s arms. Bad news, I could feel it.

  “Do you want me to look?” Cole offered, rubbing the furrow in my forehead.

  “Yes.” I shoved the phone into his hand and he opened the message.

  “It’s okay.” He kissed the top of my head. “Book says I signed the marriage license in the wrong place. He wants us to stop by his office at noon today, before we leave town, so I can re-sign it.”

  “Why didn’t he text your phone then?”

  “Probably because I left it at his house. I, too, had other things on my mind yesterday.” He turned the phone off, set it on the nightstand, and began nuzzling my neck. “I thought I signed it correctly, though everything’s a blur to me thanks to page twenty-seven.”

  “Mmm,” I said, already falling under his spell.

  “If you think page twenty-seven was a mind-bender, you’re going to love page forty-eight,” he promised.

  **

  “We’re going to be late.” I said, rolling down the window slightly. It was absolutely beautiful outside. Not too hot, not too cold. Cole asked me to drive, claiming I’d worn him out. He still didn’t have his strength back yet and it worried me.

  “It’s okay we’re late. It was worth it.” Cole glanced at me and bounced his eyebrows.

  “It certainly was.” I sighed deeply. “I’m going to have to send Dr. Brotherson a thank you note.”

  Cole chuckled. “Agreed.”

  We pulled into the parking lot of Booker’s old red brick building. Someone recently added black plantation shutters, which added to its charm. Probably Donna and Haley, the designers I was supposed to be working with before Booker learned the truth about me. Several tall maple trees running along the back added to the serene setting.

  “Beautiful, don’t you think?” Cole asked.

  I nodded. “Is this where he’s working on the mantel?” I stepped out of the car to better take in the building and its beauty.

  “He’s adding bookshelves to some of the offices and a lot of his woodworking tools are here right now.” He took my hand. “We’d better get going.”

  “It’s too nice a day to go inside. Mind if I stay out here?” I leaned up against the car and took in the building’s six stories. “Don’t worry. I have my chaperone to watch over me.” I pointed to the blue sedan parked across the street.

  “Sounds good,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

  “Hold on. Does your head hurt? Do you want me to go in with you?” I asked.

  “No. I’m just a little tired. Like I said, you’ve worn me out.” he said, giving me a quick kiss and heading for the front door of the building.

  I leaned back against the truck on my elbows and tipped my head up to the sun, enjoying the heat. A breeze ruffled the leaves of the nearby maples and I turned to watch them flutter. In just a few weeks, the green leaves would be turning shades of red and gold as autumn took over. I could hardly wait.

  “Speaking of waiting,” I murmured, looking at my watch. Cole’d been gone for almost fifteen minutes.

  “Delilah?”

  I spun around so fast at the voice I slid off the car. A large hulking body caught me: Clive Johnson, Daddy’s foreman. Or, if Booker was correct, a hitman. He was as big as I remembered him, with his jet black hair and deep-set, empty eyes. I could hardly believe I thought him handsome at one time.

  “Delilah, it’s good to see you again.” He squeezed me against him. “Just as beautiful as ever.” He smiled. I fought the urge to scream.

  “Wh…What are you doing here?” I tugged back and broke his grip. I looked casually at the blue sedan, but saw no one inside.

  “Delilah, come away with me. I’m rich now. I can spoil you rotten. I’ll buy you everything your heart desires,” Clive begged.

  “I’m married.” I wiggled the ring at him. “Why are you here? Is Daddy with you?”

  “Delilah, please don’t go in there.” He pointed to the building. “Your father, he’s lost his mind. I think it’s from all the medications he’s taking. He’s looking real bad.” He shook his head. “His mind�
�s clouded. Last night I had to help him take the right drugs; he kept trying to take his morning pills.”

  “You? What happened to Payo?” Why did I not want to hear his answer?

  “Your father found out he was telling his wife about where they’d been hiding, so he had me . . . take care of him. I’m sorry, Delilah. I know you and he were friends.”

  I stepped back. “No. Not Payo. He had a family. Six kids, Clive. Six.” I glared at him.

  “I know, Delilah. But if I didn’t do it, someone else would have,” he said factually. “Look, I know you don’t like your father’s business, and I don’t blame you. It can be pretty brutal, but I’ve made enough money now that I won’t have to work ever again. We can go somewhere far away from here and start a life together. A life free of violence.”

  “No, Clive, we can’t.”

  “I understand, don’t blame you either.” His shoulder’s drooped. “You’re not like the rest of your family, Lilah. Maybe if I’d had the guts to . . . It doesn’t matter now.”

  I didn’t have time for this. “Please, Clive, is my father inside?” I pointed to the building.

  “Yes. He sent me out to find you. Lilah, don’t go in there. I understand you not wanting to come with me, but please, don’t go in there. Run away and don’t look back.”

  Nausea swept over me. I bent over and placed my hands on my knees for balance. “Is Cole . . .”

  “He’s alive. Harry’s waiting for you to join him. The other guy, Gatto, he’s in bad shape.”

  I moved back to the car and leaned against the trunk for support. “Where are they?”

  “In an empty office on the third floor. Your dad’s real angry with you, Delilah. When we got into town last night, we went straight to your apartment. The manager told us you’d gotten married earlier and that you were moving out.” Clive sunk his hands in his pockets.

  “Clive, please help me. Whatever Daddy paid you, I’ll pay you double,” I pleaded.

  “I can’t do that. I’m in a cutthroat business. If word gets out I double-crossed a client, I’m a dead man.” He removed a set of keys from his pocket. “I have to get going. I’m sorry. Really, I am.” He turned to leave.