A Bravo Christmas Wedding

by Christine Rimmer

  That went okay, he thought. It wasn’t all that hard to control his burning lust when she sat in an upstairs bedroom with her computer while he tore out the tile across the hallway in the bathroom.

  By dinnertime, he was patting himself on the back. He could do this. He could get through the days until the wedding, do his job watching over her without laying a hand on her. One day, one hour, one minute at a time. That was how any sane man dealt with temptation.

  And he did get through it—through Monday and Tuesday. Wednesday, they took his uncle’s old pickup and went out to find a tree. They cut down a beauty, brought it back in the bed of the truck, hauled it inside and put it up on the stand in front of the picture window in the great room. The whole house smelled of evergreen.

  Not bad at all.

  They loaded up a bunch of Christmas music on the PC in his study and then she insisted they go into town to buy some decent speakers for it. Back at the ranch, she went over to Alva’s place and talked her into helping bake stuff and make candy for the party. All the rest of the day the house smelled of fudge and divinity and Christmas cookies.

  He probably shouldn’t let himself get used to it, to having her around all the time. To the way she lit up a room and filled it with laughter and the smell of cookies.

  But hell. It was Christmastime, right? And he was kind of getting into it, into the Christmas spirit, into the actual fact that he was having a party at his house. It was something he hadn’t done in years. Not since his mom used to throw birthday parties for him and Ryan when they were growing up.

  He decided he was ready for it—to have some friends over and have a good time.

  By nine Thursday evening, the house was full of Bravos and their dates and his lifelong friends from school. Christmas music filled the air. There were cookies and candy set out on the kitchen island and the coffee table, and chips and dip and popcorn, too. Everyone had a cup of cider or cocoa or something stronger.

  It was going pretty well, Walker thought. They had the lights strung on the tree and had moved on to hanging the ornaments. The men were mostly just standing around, drinking beer and talking work and sports, leaving the women to do the decorating. But everybody seemed to be having a good time, and that was the point.

  Walker felt a happy glow of good feeling, all sentimental and mushy. Ordinarily, he wasn’t real big on sentimentality. But this was good, having the house full of people. He liked that it was Christmas, though for years he’d hardly noticed when the holidays came around. He liked that, thanks to Rory, he had an actual Christmas tree by the window and three mercury glass angels decorating his coffee table. And every time he glanced at her in her red sweater and jeans and knee-high boots, he had the most excellent feeling of simple, perfect contentment.

  That night, for some reason, raging lust for her didn’t seem to be a problem for him. He just felt glad. Glad that she was there, in his house, wearing a red sweater, her long hair loose and shiny on her shoulders, a happy smile on her beautiful face.

  Even her cousins seemed to be caught up in the spirit of good cheer. They all got along—at first.

  Then, around ten-thirty, Tracy and Elise got into it with Jody. It was the same argument they’d had that day at the bridal shop, about who would arrange the flowers for the reception. But Rory stepped right in and reminded them that this was a party, not another chance to argue over who got to run what. That shut them up.

  Ryan had brought vodka and Kahlúa for Black Russians. Tracy and Elise started drinking those. So did Nell. They didn’t seem to be drinking too much, really. And Rye was always careful when he brought booze. As a bar owner, he knew how to keep an eye on people and not to overserve.

  But he must not have been watching Nell closely enough. Around midnight, she jumped up from her chair by the tree, pushed aside the two guys who were trying to make time with her and marched over to Clara, who was helping Rory decorate the mantel with greenery, glittery Christmas ornaments and strings of multicolored lights.

  Nell tapped Clara on the shoulder.

  Clara turned around. “Nell? What—”

  Nell grabbed her hand. “Clara, I just have to tell you...”

  Clara smiled cautiously. “Yeah?”

  “That I like you. I love you. I always did. You’re a good person. And I’m glad you’re my sister—or, I mean, half of one, anyway.”

  Clara’s smile bloomed wide then. “Well, Nell. I’m glad, too.”

  “And I was just sitting over there in that chair by the tree, listening to a couple of guys I am not going out with tell me how great they are, but really just thinking about our family and getting all teary-eyed, you know? Thinking that it’s completely cool, the way you made us all your bridesmaids, me and Jody and those two bitches who drive me insane but who are my sisters—even Tracy, who’s not even blood to me, but still...I mean, we are family, aren’t we? We’re all family and we need to learn to get along.”

  Clara kind of gaped at her for a second. And then she nodded. “You’re right, Nell. We’re family and we need to remember that. We need to cherish that.”

  Nell let out a big, gusty sigh. “Oh, yeah. Truth.” She pressed her hand to her chest and her big eyes brimmed with fat tears. “I love you, Clara.” And then she reached out and yanked Clara close. “Oh, I love you, honey. I do...”

  “Um, me, too.” Clara hugged Nell back. “I love you, too, Nell...”

  “Yes!” Nell took Clara by the shoulders, held her away and stared at her intently for a long count of ten. Then she swiped at the tears on her cheeks, tossed her long auburn hair and announced at full volume, “And don’t you let all that crap Monique Hightower is blabbing all over town bother you one bit. Any kid would be lucky to be raised by you. You’re gonna be a great mother.”

  By then, everyone at the party had stopped to watch. Even the Christmas music seemed to have hit a pause. Rye was the only one moving. He was weaving through the crowd in the kitchen, headed for Clara’s side.

  Rory tried, “Uh, Nell. How about some coffee?”

  Nell ignored her. She grabbed Clara’s hand again. “You know what I’m sayin’? Tell me you know.”

  By then, Tracy and Elise had stopped merely staring with their mouths hanging open. They were making outraged noises and moving as a unit toward Clara and Nell.

  Rory moved to intercept them. “Stay out of it, you two.”

  Tracy scowled at her, and Elise made a harrumphing sound. But they did stop in their tracks.

  And Clara actually seemed fine with what Nell was laying on her. “Yeah,” she said softly. “Oh, Nellie, I know exactly what you’re saying. And thank you.”

  Rye reached her side then. “Everything okay here?”

  Clara nodded. “Fine, Ryan. Really.”

  Nell swiped at the makeup and tears running down her cheeks and turned a defiant glance Rye’s way. “Ryan, you’re a great guy.”

  “Uh, thanks.”

  She sniffled. “But how many times have you asked Clara to marry you?”

  “Uh...”

  “And how many times did she turn you down?”

  “Uh...”

  “Several. Am I right?”

  “Well, Nell, I really don’t think that’s any of your busi...”

  She swung up a hand at him, palm out, and Rye stopped in midword. “Hold that thought. Like, forever.” Then she turned those huge, mascara-smeared eyes back on Clara again. “Like I said, I do love you, Clara. And I just want you to be sure, you know? Just ’cause you’re pregnant doesn’t mean you have to marry the guy. I mean, consider my mother—not that anybody really wants to. Because, hey. We all know what people say about her.” She shrugged. “Unattractive things. Gold digger. Home wrecker. And worse. And Dad couldn’t marry her, I mean, being married to your mom and all. What were they thinking—Dad, your m
om, my mom? I’ll never understand what they thought they were doing. Why my mom never had the integrity and good sense to walk away—or at least practice a little contraception, for cryin’ out loud. It was wacked, and we all know it. And now, my mom’s the only one left with any real insight into that whole sad, weird situation. Not that she’ll ever explain herself. Willow Mooney Bravo plays it cagey at all times. I mean, to keep having Dad’s babies, one after another, at about the same rate as your mama across town? It makes no sense. And what about your mama? Why did she even stay with him?”

  Clara frowned. “I think she—”

  “Never mind.” Nell patted her shoulder fondly. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “But—”

  “And what was I saying...? Oh, yeah. I got it. My mom had all five of us long before she married dear old Dad, who was still married to your mom. And look at us.” She flapped a hand back behind her, probably to indicate Garrett and Carter, two of her three full brothers, who stood over by the kitchen island; and Jody, who sat on the sofa with some guy from Denver. “We’re doin’ just fine. Yeah, we might have had a little more trouble in school, might have had to bust a few heads now and then, you know, keep the smack talkers under control. But a good fight makes you stronger—a good fight shows you what you’re made of.” She lifted her arm, shoved her sweater up past her elbow and flexed her biceps, which was tattooed with flowers and dragonflies. “Look at that. You don’t want to be messin’ with that...” She clapped her other hand over the muscle in question—and that struck her as funny for some reason. She started laughing. She laughed so hard she staggered on those dagger-heeled boots of hers.

  But Clara, who really did seem to be taking it all in stride, caught her and gently helped her to sit down on the hearth. “No more Black Russians for you, Nellie.”

  Nell kept laughing. She started to fall sideways. Clara put her arm around her and pulled her close.

  “Whoa,” moaned Nell. “Has anyone noticed that the room is goin’ round and round?”

  And Elise chose that moment to make her big move. “Really, this is just too much.” She zipped around Rory and descended on Nell. “You are disgusting.”

  Clara shot her a warning glance. “Elise. Just don’t.”

  And Nell rested her head on Clara’s shoulder and sighed. “Yeah, Leesie, put a sock in it, why don’t you?”

  Tracy zipped around Rory’s other side. “Don’t listen to her, Elise. As usual, she’s out of control.”

  And then, out of nowhere, Jody leaped up from the sofa. “Why can’t you two just leave poor Nell alone?”

  Elise gasped. She and Tracy whirled from Nell to Jody. They both opened their mouths to light into her at once.

  But Nell beat them to it. “You just shut your mouth, Joanna Louise. I don’t need you defending me. It’s about a decade too late for that now. Where were you when Dad married Mom and we had to move in with them? Did you have my back then?”

  Jody gulped. “Well, I... Actually, it was just that I...”

  “Hah!” crowed Nell. “See what I mean? You got nothin’.”

  Jody huffed, “It so happens, dear little Nell, that I had a lot going on at the time and I—”

  “Don’t even bother with the excuses. We both know what you did. You kept your head down and moved out of that house as quick as you could and left me behind for them to torture.” And with that, she shot upright, wobbled a little on her high-heeled boots, and then somehow managed to draw herself up straight. “I learned to fight my own battles, thank you very much. So don’t even imagine I suddenly need support from you.” And with that, she tossed her hair one more time, aimed her chin high and stalked from the room.

  The only sounds were her footsteps walking away—and Elmo and Patsy singing “Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer.”

  Finally, Rory said kind of reverently, “I think she’s going upstairs.”

  And everybody strained to listen.

  Yep. No doubt about it. Nell’s boot heels echoed on the stairs.

  Clara stood. “I’ll just go and make sure she’s all right.” And she went after Nell.

  Tracy turned to Elise. “I think we should go, too.” Elise nodded—and they followed after Clara.

  That left Jody, standing there next to the guy from Denver, looking kind of stricken—until, with a sad little sob, she took off after Tracy and Elise.

  Walker went over, clapped his brother on the shoulder and asked, “You all right, man?”

  Rye let out a hard breath. “Hangin’ in.”

  “Hey. Sometimes that’s about the best you can do. Beer?”

  “Good call.”

  So they each got a beer. Rory turned up the music and everyone seemed happy enough to go back to partying and decorating, letting the Bravo sisters deal with their issues in private upstairs.

  The five women came down about an hour later. They all seemed pretty subdued. Clara whispered to Rory, who led them all to the kitchen area and whipped them up hot cocoa.

  It was a good choice, the cocoa, Walker thought. Rory made it using her brother Damien’s special recipe, which involved chopping bars of quality bittersweet chocolate, then whisking the bits into heated milk, adding brown sugar and a dash of sea salt. Walker had sampled that cocoa in the past. Killer. Each of the women took a cup. They sipped and talked together quietly.

  Walker sat by the fire with Rye, nursing his beer, watching them. Once he saw Elise pat Nell on the shoulder. And Nell chuckled at something Jody said.

  Rye leaned toward Walker and spoke out of the side of his mouth. “Damned if it doesn’t look like they’re all getting along. What do you think?”

  Walker suggested, “A Christmas miracle?”

  Rye raised his beer. “I’ll drink to that.”

  * * *

  Rory stood by the stairs, which were now festively twined with lighted garland, watching as Walker locked up.

  It was two-thirty Friday morning, a light snow was falling and the last guest—that guy from Denver—had finally said goodbye.

  When Walker turned to her, she asked, “Hot chocolate?”

  He looked at her sideways. “Your brother’s special recipe?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “You’re on. I’ll turn off the music.”

  She grinned at him. “Meet you in the kitchen.”

  While she made the cocoa, he turned off the lamps and the rustic chandelier in the great room, leaving only the tree lights, the lights on the mantel and the light of the fire. Then he joined her in the kitchen area.

  She poured them each a mugful of chocolate. “Let’s go sit by the fire.”

  He followed her over there. They sat down together and he sipped from his mug. “Good,” he said approvingly. He had a milk-froth mustache.

  She watched him lick it off and couldn’t help picturing herself leaning close and helping him with that. But then, that wasn’t who they were, and she’d been doing pretty well at just enjoying this time with him, not letting her imagination and her secret yearnings run away with her.

  Now and then in the past few days, she’d had the feeling that something wasn’t right with him. He would get too quiet—and he tended to stand around with his arms crossed over his chest, as if he felt threatened or something.

  But she’d let it be, whatever it was. She figured if he wanted to talk to her about it, he would.

  Tonight, though—both during the party and right now—he seemed relaxed. Happy, even.

  Which was pretty surprising, given the Bravo sisters’ outrageous behavior.

  He said, “The party was a great idea. I had a really good time.”

  “You did? I was kind of thinking you’d never forgive me for roping you into it.”

  “Forgive you? Uh-uh. Seriously, I enjoyed myself.”


  “Even when my crazy cousins started yelling at each other?”

  And he laughed. He did have the nicest, deepest, warmest laugh. “Even then.”

  “You sure?”

  “Absolutely—and did anyone give you the story on what happened upstairs?”

  Clara had, actually. “What? You want the dirty details?”

  “Yes, I do. And I’m not ashamed to say so.”

  She sipped her cocoa and stared at the tree.

  Until he nudged her with his elbow. “Come on. The dirt. Out with it.”

  “Hmm. Well, let’s see... There was crying. Clara said they all cried. Then Nell started in about all the awful things Elise and Tracy did to her when they had to live together after Sondra died and Willow married Frank.”

  “What things?”

  “Well, Tracy and Elise lured Nell down to the basement. Somehow, they managed to tie her to a support beam down there. Then they left her there for hours in the dark—after Tracy had whispered to her that the basement just happened to be infested with black widow spiders.”

  “Whoa.”

  “Yeah. And once they rigged a bucket full of water dyed with blue food coloring so it came down on her head when she entered her bedroom.”

  “My God.”

  “But then Nell ended up confessing that she’d pulled a few stunts on them, too—stole their stuff, booby-trapped the bathroom with marbles on the floor and put oil-based paint in their body lotion. And then they all started crying again. And Jody apologized for not being there for Nell. And Tracy and Elise said they were sorry for all the bad stuff they did to Nell. And Nell admitted that she’d got her licks in, too. After that there was hugging and declarations of sisterly solidarity.”

  “Wow. So Clara actually did it.”

  “What?”

  “Got her sisters to pull together, to put all the old crap aside.”