by Susan Schild
“Okay.” Mary Catherine held a broken piece of wheat straw in her mouth that moved when she talked. “How are you and Maisie getting along?”
“The saddle’s on her good and tight. She and I have been practicing, so I’m hoping for a sedate walk down the aisle,” Linny said.
“Good,” Mary Catherine said encouragingly and sat up. “Let’s look at the guests. I hope someone wears a crazy hat. I love crazy hats.”
Linny grinned and rose. “Good. Check me for hay, though.”
Mary Catherine picked off a few wisps.
“Thanks.” Linny smiled. The two friends peered out the open half of the stall door, hidden from view by the foliage and pink-and-white-striped blossom of the camellia bushes, and watched the guests gathering in the clearing that Jack and Neal had fashioned for the ceremony. The sun shone clear and golden, the grass was a lush, velvety green, and the rows of white chairs looked crisp and festive, festooned with yellow ribbons that danced with every puff of breeze. Linny sighed. Perfect.
Mary Catherine elbowed Linny and pointed to an approaching couple.
Diamond minced by with her date, Butch from the sporting clays course. In her sky-high heels and tight-fitting green skirt, she was having trouble navigating the yard, but the big man had a protective arm around her. Though he looked sharp in his charcoal suit, Butch was pulling at his shirt collar, looking like he couldn’t wait to loosen his tie. Diamond twinkled up at him and he gazed at her like he couldn’t believe his good fortune.
Linny gazed at Mary Catherine wonderingly. “Can you believe that match took? They look happy.”
“They’ve only been on a few dates, but Diamond is peppering his name in conversations. Butch says . . . and Well, I talked to Butch about it and . . . Cute, but kind of sickening,” Mary Catherine groused.
“Be nice,” Linny said and pointed. “There’s Mama and Mack.” Dottie had SlimFasted away ten pounds for the wedding and looked positively stylish in her deep purple wrap dress. Dapper in a blue blazer and a red-and-white polka-dotted bow tie, Mack teased Dottie about something and she threw her head back and laughed. “She and Mack do something new every week. Last week he took her to a comedy improv class, and this week she took him to play pickleball.”
“Man, Miss Dottie’s coming into her own.” Mary Catherine shook her head admiringly and then pointed. “Here come the girls.”
Dessie was holding hands with a short, wizened man wearing a Fedora with a feather that bobbed when he walked. “That must be Perry, the junkman she met on the cruise.” Linny squinted. “She said he looks like the hunk driving the Mustang convertible in the Cialis commercials, but I don’t see it. Still, he sounds like a nice man. Turns out he’s wealthy, too.”
“Never knew there was that much money in junk,” Mary Catherine mused. She smirked at Linny. “I never told you about my plan for those rat Weston brothers. I hired Dessie to help me. Got her an amazing minicamera. She grayed up her hair more, wore a cardigan, and borrowed a neighbor’s Chihuahua to walk. She tailed my clients, watched for the sneaky photographer, and got shots of the guy trying to set up the supposedly incriminating photos. She photographed the photographer.”
Linny laughed delightedly. “Brilliant!”
“The pictures were a big hit with the judge,” Mary Catherine mused, gazing at the gathering crowd. “Here comes Ruby. Thank goodness, we’ve got a crazy hat.”
Wearing a hat that made her look like a flotilla of oversize luna moths had landed on her head, Ruby waved excitedly and joined her friends, sliding into the seat they’d saved for her.
“Are the girls still going on their trip to see the US of A?” Mary Catherine asked.
“Yup. They’re doing all their planning and leaving in mid-August,” Linny said.
The walkie-talkie crackled, and Linny picked it up from the hay bale.
Neal’s voice came through. “You there, Linny?”
She pushed the Talk button. “I am, buddy. You all set with the zip line?”
“Yeah. Uncle Jerry’s double-checking me. Look out of the stall.”
Craning her head out the half door to look up at the tree house, Linny saw Neal peering down at them, looking serious. Her heart caught. He looked so darling in his tux with a snappy blue bow tie. She gave him a thumbs-up and he gave her one back.
“Eight minutes to countdown,” he said tersely through the radio. “I’ll look for Dad’s signal. Over and out.”
Mary Catherine cocked her head. “Jack’s got a signal?”
“Once we’re at the bower we’ll get off the horses so they don’t bolt when Jack gives the high sign to Neal and he comes zipping down.”
Mary Catherine pretended to yawn. “Such a boring, traditional wedding.”
“Don’t forget the orchestra, and a tenor from the Raleigh Opera Company is going to sing a number from Aida, which is a tragic love story, I’ve been told, but Ceecee picked it.” Linny shook her head and grinned. Leaning out the stall window, she pointed at the wind section warming up on the outdoor bandstand and a dance floor set up on a spot where Jack usually grew sweet potatoes.
Mary Catherine poked her head out. “You’re the great compromiser. I’m sure Ceecee was delighted.”
“She was. She got to invite all her buddies from the club, too.” Linny watched Ceecee give last-minute instructions to the orchestra composer and bustle off to effusively greet a woman who wore a fur jacket even though it was June. Linny shook her head, grinning. “Even though she’s not entirely sure she likes me, Ceecee’s growing on me.”
Mary Catherine nodded and cocked her head, “How did your sister manage to organize the caterers and the flowers just after she’d had baby Ivy?”
Linny laughed, holding up her forefinger. “She pointed, texted, and dialed a lot.” Linny looked away, feeling almost shy about how thrilled she was to be an aunt. “Ivy is just the sweetest bundle of love.”
Mary Catherine smiled and nodded knowingly. “They’ll steal your heart all right.” Glancing out the window, her face lit up and she pointed. “There are my two men.” Sticking two fingers in her mouth, she let out a short, piercing whistle. Mike and Dare stopped in their tracks and swung around. Linny and Mary Catherine stuck their hands out the window and waved. Mike and his son broke into grins.
“I need to go,” Mary Catherine said and gathered her purse. She put her hands on Linny’s shoulders and leveled a gaze at her. “I can’t even tell you how happy I am for you, Lin. I’ll start to cry and I’ll look like a mole at your wedding. But just know how much we love you. We wish you all tons of love and happiness.” Blinking back tears, Mary Catherine kissed her cheek and whirled away.
Linny put a hand to her heart, touched by her friend’s words and her tears. From deeper in the stable she heard muffled thuds and whirled around. Looking resplendent in his tux, her wildly handsome groom led two shiny black horses toward her. Jack’s eyes were lit with pure joy. “You look amazing. How did I get so lucky?” He shook his head, smiling, and held out a hand. “Are you ready, Linny?”
Trusting him implicitly, Linny felt surer of this than she’d been of anything in her life. Giving him a slow smile, she took his hand. “I’m ready.”
Please read on for an exciting sneak peek of
Susan Schild’s next
Willow Hill novel
SWEET SOUTHERN HEARTS
coming in January 2017 wherever e-books are sold!
Chapter 1
Good Sports
Linny’s heartbeat galloped under her life jacket as they shot down the rapids of the Ocasoula River. Eyes wide, she watched as their orange raft careened toward a jagged boulder, bumped it hard, and spun them toward a patch of choppy water. As the water rushed around the three of them—Linny, her new husband Jack, and their beautiful, Ms. Outward Bound type goddess of a river guide—they dug deep and paddled hard, straining to pull through the eddy. With a whoosh, they were pulled backwards down the roaring, foaming river. Linny shot Jack a panicky glance
, but he was grinning exultantly and looked like he was having the time of his life. With a flick of her braid and a pirate’s smile, the guide thrust her paddle into the rapids, turned the raft around and steered them downstream toward calmer water. Too soon to relax, though. Linny saw more rough waters ahead and tensed.
Be a shame to lose a third husband, she thought crazily, and paddled harder.
The nimble-footed photographer from the outdoor center jogged along a path on the riverbank, snapping away as their raft rocketed toward the Turbinator, the Class III rapid that roiled ahead in the home stretch of the river trip. The photographer’s ponytail bounced as he raced ahead of them, taking shots as their raft bucked, dove, and finally glided through the rain-swollen Ocasoula.
A few moments later, a shivering Linny stood at the take out, hugging herself and rubbing her arms. She’d been splashed thoroughly, and didn’t want to think about how cold she would have been if they’d flipped over. Though it was late June, the guide told them that water temperature was only in the mid-fifties. Linny found herself grinning like a fool as she waited for Jack to come back from the truck with his wallet to pay for their pictures. She’d been terrified, but she’d had a blast.
A whitewater rafting trip might not be high on most women’s idea of a must do on a honeymoon, but when Linny saw how Jack’s eyes sparkled as he reminisced about a rafting trip he’d taken when he was in his twenties, she’d said “Let’s do it!” in an enthusiastic, practically perky voice she hardly recognized. In this new and complicated marriage, being a good sport and flexible as Gumby were going to ease the way. Though rafting wasn’t her thing, Jack had cheerfully gone on the vineyard tour with her yesterday, and on the drive up to the mountains, had tagged along, not looking bored as she poked through vintage aprons and yellow Nancy Drew books at an antique store.
“Here you go, ma’am.” The young man held out his camera and scratched one mesh-sandaled foot with the other as he watched her view the shots he’d taken.
In perfect clarity, the fellow had caught them at the moment she and Jack got sling-shotted skyward in their raft after diving down into the roiling water of that last rapid. Linny peered more closely at the picture. The photographer had captured the Carolina blue sky day, the Day-Glo orange of the raft, the lithe young goddess at the helm, and her and Jack—the glowing, sun-drenched newlyweds. Twice coming down that river they’d almost flipped and been swept into the churning waters. Linny’s teeth had chattered and she’d buzzed with adrenaline and fear, but she looked alive and exhilarated as she beamed at Jack, pure joy in her eyes. With powerful arms, he was digging away with his paddle, helping power them through. But two details caught Linny’s eye and made her well up—Jack’s new gold band glinted in the sunlight, and the look he’d given her just as the photographer took the shot was one of wonder and delight. He looked like he was thinking, “How did I get this lucky?”
“You did a great job.” Linny smiled at the young photographer.
“Thanks.” The young man blushed and pulled the brim of his cap. He pointed to the visitor’s center. “Just give me a minute to load the pictures, and you can pick the ones you want.”
“Thanks. We’ll be over as soon as my husband gets his wallet from the truck,” she said.
He raised a hand and loped off.
Linny loved saying my husband. She’d probably said it too many times over the three days of this honeymoon. My husband and I are from Willow Hill. My husband is a veterinarian. My husband likes unsweet tea. Linny smiled at herself. Yup, she was being obnoxious, but she didn’t care. She was so dang happy that she couldn’t stop. Well, at least for a while.
At age thirty-nine and with her streak of bad luck with husbands, the odds of her and Jack finding each other and falling in love had not been great. Linny sent up a quick prayer of pure gratitude. After her beloved first husband, Andy, died of a brown recluse spider bite while cleaning out a shed for Linny—an item on the too long honey-do lists she always kept for him—she’d been lost for so many years, and thought she’d never be happy again. Then, Buck the charmer came along. She should have known a golden boy driving a vintage Caddy would not be good husband material, but she’d married him anyway. He turned out to be trouble, but just as she was considering divorcing him, he up and died on her. When an aneurism blew while he was in bed with a woman named Kandi, he’d left her broke.
Linny had sworn she’d steer clear of men or die trying, and then she met Jack. Technically, she’d accidentally hit him in the head with a bourbon bottle while recycling at the dump. She smiled and shook her head, remembering. Most women would pretty up that how-we-met story, but Linny told people the unvarnished version. Maybe she just wanted to spread the word that second chances, fresh starts, and true love were all still possible—even at their ages. The happily ever after you yearn for just might not look the way you thought it would look.
So a few days ago in a backyard ceremony, Linny married Jack. A small town vet with a twelve-year-old son and an exquisite ex-wife who was just a little too chummy with him for Linny’s taste, Jack came with complications. But, so had she. But today, she was buoyant and happy.
Jack strode toward her in his Levis and the dark green t-shirt she’d picked out for him—the extra-long one that that fit his tall, rangy frame and was also the exact color of his pine green eyes. Her shivering lessening, she grinned at him.
“Let’s warm you up, shug.” He wrapped her in a large and slightly doggy smelling fleece he’d gotten from the truck and began to rub her shoulders.
She leaned into him, enjoying the warmth and solid heft of him, and rested her head against his broad shoulder. “Okay.” Hugging him always made her feel safe, like finally arriving home after a long, arduous trip.
On the way back to the cabin, Jack cast her a sideways glance from the driver’s seat of the truck. “Did you have a good time?”
“I did,” Linny sighed. “This has been the best honeymoon ever.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she felt her face flame. Why had she said that? She wasn’t ranking her three honeymoons, holding up cards like the skating judges with numbers one through ten printed on them. Linny shot him a glance to see how hurt he looked, but he just patted her knee and whistled between his teeth as he adjusted the rear view mirror.
Linny shook her head. She’d drive herself crazy yet.
The tires of Jack’s red truck crunched on the gravel as they pulled up beside their hideaway. Linny took Jack’s hand and sighed happily as they walked up the front path, admiring the square-cut logs and clean lines of the two-room rustic log cabin. She’d rented it after obsessively comparing reviews on travel websites. Perched on a high ridge, their cabin was skirted by lush pink rhododendron, and gave long range views of the green and blue patchwork quilt of the valley laid out before it. She’d chosen the perfect cozy honeymoon spot.
Linny took a quick shower, dried her hair, and slipped on a cool floral sundress. Jack was on the front porch playing his guitar, and she smiled as she heard him strumming. Padding barefoot to the tiny kitchen, she opened a beer for Jack and poured herself a glass of crisp Pinot Grigio they’d bought at the vineyard yesterday.
Pushing open the screen door with her hip, she handed Jack his beer. He sat in a rocker, cradling the guitar. Self-taught, Jack was still self-conscious about his mistakes, but he was coming along fast. He took a draw of beer, put the bottle on the floor and eased into the opening chords of James Taylor’s Carolina in My Mind. Giving her a sorry-if-I-mess up smile, he began to sing quietly in his warm tenor.
Leaning against the railing, arms crossed, she watched him and felt a wave of contentment. She held out her hand and examined her glittering emerald ring. Jack and Neal had dug the emeralds out of a gem mine especially for her. Unbeknownst to her, the father-son adventure weekend they’d taken last summer had been for the express purpose of finding stones for her ring. To have Neal involved in the gem hunt was a smart move on Jack’s part, especially since her ste
pson still watched her warily, worried that she’d try to replace his mother. The stones weren’t particularly high quality, but Linny didn’t care. She loved the ring.
Jack missed a chord, and winced. He noticed her studying her ring and a smile played at his lips.
Linny smiled back. Ruthie, the office manager in Jack’s veterinary practice, said that after Vera divorced Jack some women clients feigned reasons to bring their pets in for appointments just to spend time with him. “A woman with a poodle named Precious claimed the dog had ADHD, and another time, a tummy ache-toothache-itching issue,” she’d said, rolling her eyes, and patting Linny’s arm. “So glad he fell for you.”
Thank goodness he was the type of man who was oblivious to his own charms, unlike her late hound-dog of a second husband. But banish the thought. She wasn’t going to allow regrets to tarnish the present. Linny slid into the rocking chair beside his and sipped her wine. After a moment, she began to softly sing along with him. No volume from her. She was prone to sudden key changes and croaks.
A phone trilled from the kitchen, and Jack gave her a smile as he put down the guitar and went to take the call.
His son, Neal—her new stepson, she reminded herself—called to talk with his dad every evening of the three nights they’d been on their honeymoon. Was this normal for a twelve-year-old? A lot of the other stepmothers in the Bodacious Bonus Moms, the online support and advice blog that she’d been reading voraciously for the last few months, complained about their stepchildren who were teens not sharing a word with them or their husbands because they were too busy texting and Snapchatting friends.
Linny took a sip of wine and thought about it. How much did Neal’s clinginess have to do with his mother, Vera, and her new husband bickering? Petite Vera with her little-girl voice and perfect white blonde loveliness reminded Linny of an airy, sweet pink confection but with her sense of entitlement and demands, she was no cream puff. Her husband, Chaz, was a trial lawyer, and no pushover either. She could see why they butted heads. And with Vera’s moneyed background and silver spoon tastes, her wealthy new husband getting into hot water and losing a lot of his—no, their—money probably didn’t sit well with her. Linny felt a flash of mean-spirited pleasure that perfect Vera was having problems, but chided herself. Tension in that household hurt Neal, and she didn’t want that.
