Sgt. Billy's Bride

by Bonnie Gardner

  “Bill? Are you going to go look?”

  “What?”

  “For something appropriate to wear,” Darcy reminded him as she plugged in the iron. When had she put the ironing board up?

  “I’ll check in the closet and see if I have anything to go with that white shirt and tie I keep here to wear for church so I don’t have to pack and unpack every time I come to visit.” Bill expelled a long breath. Or maybe it was a sigh. No. It couldn’t be. Special Tactics combat controllers don’t sigh.

  “Well, go on,” Darcy said, making a shooing motion with her hands. “We might have to make a run out in this mess to town to buy a suit if you don’t find anything,” she said, then stuck her finger in her mouth, moistened it and quickly tested the iron. “Bill? Are you going?”

  He was pretty sure combat controllers didn’t let little slips of women no bigger than a minute boss them around, either. But he couldn’t help thinking that when it was Darcy Stanton doing the ordering, he really didn’t mind. “Yes ma’am, sir,” he said, saluting sloppily.

  Darcy rolled her eyes. “Go on,” she said, shooing him out of the room. “You are definitely dismissed.”

  Watching him stride away, Darcy couldn’t help chuckling. Special Tactics guys really hated to be bossed around. Yet, her Billy had let her. But, then he’d taken orders from a strong Southern woman all his life, so maybe it had come naturally.

  She stopped for a moment to ponder what she’d just been thinking. Her Billy? She wasn’t even sure when she had started thinking of him as Billy, as his mother called him. Much less, hers.

  He wasn’t hers to keep. At least, not forever. She was going to lend herself to Billy, to his plan, long enough to allow Nettie to die happy. But she’d only promised herself in name only.

  She hadn’t offered her body or her soul.

  A clap of thunder sounded as the summer storm rolled on through and reminded her that she’d better finish her ironing before the electricity went off, a common occurrence here in the summer time.

  Darcy shuddered and forced away any more thoughts of Billy or their life together after a wedding that was only for show. She pressed her lips together grimly and made short work of pressing the creases out of her suit.

  Too bad smoothing out the mess she and Billy had gotten into wouldn’t be as easy as ironing this suit.

  “How will this do?”

  This time, Billy had startled her out of her thoughts. “What?” Darcy shook her head, trying to shake loose the cobwebs that were befuddling her thinking.

  Billy held up a plastic suit bag with the zipper pulled down to the bottom. “I’d forgotten that this was in the car the other night when I dropped everything to get up here so fast when Momma got sick.”

  In the bag was Billy’s blue service dress uniform, complete with decorations. Of course, it would be perfect, but why was it here? He certainly didn’t need it in Mattison.

  “I had to go to the base photographer to update the photos in my service jacket the other day, and I didn’t have time to take them back to the apartment before I had to report for the pre-jump briefing, so I left it in the car.” He shrugged. “Who’da thunk it would come in handy?”

  Was it more of that fate thing? Darcy shook her head. No, she shouldn’t be thinking that.

  “No?”

  Realizing that Billy had misinterpreted her subconscious gesture, Darcy looked up. “I’m sorry. I was thinking about something else. Your uniform will be perfect. Take it out of the bag so I can make sure it’s pressed.”

  She smoothed the dark blue fabric with her hands on the faded and worn surface of the ironing board, and Darcy couldn’t helping wondering if the Fates were playing a joke on her. Here it was, just a couple of weeks after she’d run away from a traditional military wedding, complete with formal mess dress uniforms, and now she was preparing to marry another man in a uniform.

  The uniform was different, and so was the man, but maybe this wedding had been preordained.

  Was she destined to keep promising herself to men in uniforms until she finally got it right?

  A SHARD OF SUNLIGHT streaked through the sheer curtains on the bedroom window and forced Bill awake. He yawned and stretched and tried to shake the cobwebs out of his sleepy brain. It was Monday, and morning had dawned fresh and clear after last night’s storm. A lot clearer than Bill’s head.

  He hadn’t slept well, anticipating today’s events, and if he had gotten three hours of sleep, he’d be surprised. He might have been trained to go without sleep, but this morning his training had been no help at all. He dragged himself out of bed, all the while wishing he could crawl right back in and pull the covers up over himself.

  The morning birds were chirping as they usually did, but considering his aching, tired head, Bill wished they’d shut up. This was not exactly the way a guy was supposed to feel on his wedding day.

  He felt as if he’d been to one hell of a bachelor party. Without having had any of the fun.

  Bill glanced at the clock. It was barely past six. Too early, even if he had slept well. They didn’t have to be at the courthouse until ten. How would they pass the rest of the morning until it was time to go to the courthouse?

  The smell of coffee wafted toward him from the kitchen, but considering the early hour, he figured he was the first one awake. Darcy had invested in a coffeemaker with a timer, and he’d seen her put it on last night. At least there was coffee.

  He stumbled toward the kitchen, only to pause outside the closed bathroom door. The unmistakable sound of water running in the shower told him that Darcy was up after all. Visions of warm water sluicing over her slender body flitted through Bill’s head, and his groin tightened.

  He shook that thought away. He had no business thinking about Darcy like that. He wasn’t really going to be her husband. Even after the wedding, he had no right to her body—even if he wanted her so bad he could taste it. He tried to will his nether regions to behave.

  “Gotta get yourself together, man,” Bill grumbled to himself, his voice gravelly from sleep, or lack of it. “If she sees you like this, there’s no way she’ll go through with it, phony marriage or not. He forced his feet to move and lurched toward the kitchen.

  Maybe if he drank half the pot of coffee, he’d have made himself reasonably human by the time Darcy came out. Maybe if he drank the other half, he’d be able to fight the urge to sweep her into his arms and pass the morning exploring her body.

  DARCY RINSED the soap away, turned off the water, then stepped out of the shower. She breathed in the sweet, floral scent of the old-fashioned soap Nettie used, not for the fragrance, but for the economy, and smiled. Maybe this particular brand was inexpensive, but she loved the subtle smell of the flowers that hinted at the life and warmth of spring. It seemed to make a promise.

  And maybe it was appropriate for the day, she thought as she toweled herself dry from head to toe. She ran a comb through her short hair and briefly wished that she’d been able to get someone to style it for her, but she shook that thought away. She’d chosen the style for its ease and simplicity. It suited her.

  And considering that the rest of today’s ceremony wouldn’t be real, she might as well be.

  She dressed slowly in shorts and a T-shirt. There was no sense in putting on the white suit so early. The linen fabric would only wrinkle in the thick summer air, already muggy at this early hour.

  Darcy stepped out of the bathroom, letting a cloud of steam escape into the hall. She wondered if she should wake Billy, but decided against it. Billy’s door was closed, and he had no real reason to get up so soon. She shrugged at that. Neither had she, but she’d found herself waking at the crack of dawn like a child on Christmas morning.

  She smiled at the irony as she headed for the kitchen and a cup of coffee to get her going. After all, with the exception that she and Billy were going to stand in front of a judge and Nettie to make promises they had no intention of keeping, this was just going to be another da
y. Why she was comparing it to Christmas, she didn’t know.

  Well, she did, but she tried not to think about it. After all, she shouldn’t be as attracted to Billy Hays as she was. And there would be no wedding night.

  She stopped short in the kitchen doorway, startled to find Billy at the table, hunched over, nursing a cup of coffee as if his life depended on it. He looked as if he’d just awakened after a three-day drunk, and she couldn’t imagine why.

  He looked up slowly, his eyes red-rimmed and bleary. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was coming down with something. And maybe he was: cold feet.

  Still, her nurse’s training kicked in, and she felt his forehead. It was cool. Or as cool as it could be in a poorly air-conditioned house on an Alabama summer morning.

  “Are you all right?”

  Billy motioned for her to sit, and nodded. He took a huge swig of coffee, swallowed, then spoke. “Yes. No. Hell,” he muttered, his voice gravelly. “I don’t know.”

  Darcy’s pleasant spirits slunk away like a whipped dog. He’d probably spent all night tossing and turning and dreading the prospect of marrying her. Well, at least, she wouldn’t have to worry about fighting him off tonight.

  And after seeing him this morning, she was just as glad she wouldn’t.

  “THIS IS IT,” Bill said, punctuating his statement with a deep breath, as he pushed his mother’s wheelchair up the ramp and into the courthouse.

  “Theron’s office is over there,” Momma said, pointing.

  Bill steered the chair in that direction, and Darcy trailed behind. He knew Darcy must feel as if she were an afterthought, and he wished he could do something to make it better. But they had to remember that this wedding was not for them. It was for the woman seated so expectantly in the borrowed wheelchair.

  They’d stopped by the courthouse earlier to apply for the license before they’d collected Momma from the hospital. So, all that was left was…to do it.

  He sucked in a deep breath before knocking on the closed door marked Probate Judge.

  In a few moments he was going to be a married man.

  Even if it was in name only.

  A portly man wearing a rumpled seersucker suit opened the door and smiled broadly. The lines around his mouth extended all the way up to wreath startling blue eyes that twinkled, making him look like a clean-shaven Santa Claus in a summer suit.

  “Come in, come in,” the man announced, with a welcoming gesture. “I don’t expect you remember me all that well from when you were a boy, but I’m Judge Armistead.”

  He turned to Darcy. “And you must be our Billy’s intended bride.” He took her hands and kissed them in a courtly gesture that made Bill think of a scene out of a period movie.

  “Yes, sir,” Darcy said, smiling and looking as if she were resisting the urge to curtsey. “Pleased to meet you.”

  But the judge seemed only to have eyes for Momma. He stooped down and took her hands. “It is so good to see you, Nettie. And for such a happy occasion.” He lifted Momma’s hand, still wearing the hospital bracelet, to his mouth and kissed it. She blushed and giggled like a school girl.

  Then Bill remembered. “Uncle Terry?” He had come around for a while after Daddy had died, bringing Momma gifts, helping her out. He hadn’t thought anything of it then, but had the man, a lawyer then, actually been trying to court his mother? He couldn’t help thinking that their lives would have been so much easier if Uncle Terry had succeeded.

  The judge pushed himself to his feet, and clamped a meaty hand down on Bill’s shoulder. “Ah, you do remember me.” He looked down at Nettie and smiled fondly. “I tried so hard to win your mother’s hand after your daddy died, but she’d have nothing of it. Said she was a one-man woman.” He shook his head slowly. “My loss,” he said with a hint of sadness. Then he clapped his hands together suddenly.

  “Let’s get this show on the road,” he said, then he cleared his throat. “R.J.? Are you ready?”

  A young black man wearing a crisp linen suit came in carrying a small bouquet of blue flowers. “I believe these are for you,” he said, offering them to Darcy.

  Darcy gasped as she accepted them and lowered her head to sniff them. Bill sucked in a deep breath. He hadn’t even thought about flowers.

  “This is R.J., my clerk. He’ll be the other witness, if that’s all right with you.”

  Momma’s hand flew to her mouth. Was she going to object? “Oh, my goodness me. I almost forgot.” She pulled something out of her pocketbook. “This is for you, son,” she said. “I know you didn’t have time to get Darcy a proper ring. So, I want you to use mine.” She smiled fondly. “It’s hardly been off my finger since your daddy put it there, but I’m not going to need it….”

  Then she turned to Darcy. “And this is for you.” She produced a tiny gold locket from that same pocketbook. “Billy gave this to me for Christmas when he was in grade school. This can be your something borrowed. I reckon the ring is old, the bouquet is new, and the forget-me-nots are blue. So,” she said brightly. “We’re all set.”

  Judge Armistead picked up a book from his cluttered desk, opened it to a marked page and began to read. “Dearly Beloved….”

  Darcy stiffened straight enough so that Bill couldn’t help but see it. Then she took a deep breath and managed an anemic smile.

  Bill reached for her hand and squeezed. He whispered, “If you’re not sure you can go through with this, it’s not too late to back out.”

  Then he held his breath, hoping Darcy wouldn’t take his offered out.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Darcy knew it the moment Bill stopped breathing, but Judge Armistead continued speaking.

  Was it because Bill was anxious over what was about to come to be? Or that she might accept his out?

  She returned his gentle squeeze and managed a timid smile. “I’m all right,” she murmured.

  The judge stopped.

  “I’m okay. Go on. Just a little nervous.”

  “…to join these two people in holy matrimony.”

  Why did it all seem like a dream? As much as she tried, Darcy found it difficult to focus, to concentrate on the words of the pledge she was about to make.

  She must have made the correct responses, for suddenly Billy gathered her into his arms.

  “Billy Hays, you may kiss your bride.”

  “Hoo ah,” Billy cheered softly, then pulled her yet closer.

  Panic caused Darcy’s heart to flutter wildly, but when she saw the expression of joy in Nettie’s eyes, Darcy knew she had done the right thing.

  She moistened her lips and tilted her face up to Billy, so handsome in his blue dress uniform. He bent down to kiss her. His hot breath excited her, and his clean man scent turned her insides into warm chocolate pudding. She melted into his arms.

  How was she going to pretend she felt nothing for this man when her body was insisting that she did?

  How was she going to stay alone with him in Nettie’s house tonight, her wedding night, and not want to go to him? Why was she falling in love with this gruff, gentle stranger who’d been trained to make war, but seemed perfect for love?

  Billy claimed her lips and branded her with a hot kiss. He started to draw away, but Darcy drew him back to her. They might have agreed that were going through the motions just for Nettie, but her heart, her body demanded otherwise.

  If this was going to be all there was, then she was going to have all she could take. She heard a whimper of need escape from somewhere deep within her as Billy took what she offered and gave what she craved.

  Why couldn’t it work out? a portion of her mind asked.

  Darcy gasped and pushed away, the spell broken. Her face grew hot, though the rest of her body felt cold as ice.

  Nettie laughed and clapped her hands joyfully. The judge congratulated Billy, pumping his hand up and down for all he was worth. But all Darcy could think about was the sound of her heartbeat roaring in her ears.

  She had done it.
She was a married woman.

  And though she might have promised herself that it was only for Nettie’s sake, she knew from the bottom of her pounding heart, that she wanted it to be so much more.

  “Best wishes, Mrs. Hays,” R.J. said, and Darcy wondered briefly who he was talking to before she realized that he’d addressed her. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must get back to my duties.”

  She felt her face grow hot with embarrassment, and hoped it didn’t show. “Thank you,” she said numbly, blinking as if to make the surreal moment clearer.

  She and Billy were married.

  The papers that the judge was beckoning her to sign would testify to it.

  But even if their marriage lasted just today, Tracy D’Arcy Harbeson Stanton would always and forever, in her mind, be Mrs. Billy Hays.

  Fighting giddy hysteria, she scribbled her name on the paper. Her right hand trembled, and she had to steady it with her left. Seeing the tiny band of gold on her third finger did nothing to calm her nerves.

  How was she going to make it through the rest of the day? Through the night?

  How would she be able to hold it all together until they checked Nettie out of the hospital and brought her home tomorrow morning? Until Billy returned to the combat control squadron and his teammates at Hurlburt Field?

  She drew in a deep breath. She had to.

  BILL STEPPED OUTSIDE and felt as though he’d been mugged by the thick, sultry air. He hated having to check Momma back into the hospital, but Doc Williamson, whom he had sworn to secrecy for the same reasons he’d given his mother, had only allowed her a short furlough for the ceremony.

  She was to remain under observation for another night. Was the extra stay a ploy to give them time alone?

  Time he didn’t need—even if he wanted it so badly he wasn’t sure he had the strength to stay away.

  Darcy touched his sleeve. “Do you think we should stay out here all dressed up like this? What if somebody we know sees us and asks questions?” she asked quietly.

  Bill hadn’t thought of that. He’d figured once they got Momma checked back in they’d be home free.