by Liz Isaacson
Later that night, after Natalie had worked her magic with cream, sugar, and chocolate and they all had a piece of pie and a cup of coffee, her mother asked, “So are you two going to stay in Gold Valley?”
“We’re getting married there,” Natalie hedged, meeting Owen’s eye. His pulse picked up and he put his fork down.
“We’re thinkin’ about moving to Nashville,” he said. “I have the opportunity to make another record.”
Brooke exchanged a glance with her husband, who’d been nice and cordial to Owen, but not overly welcoming at the same time. He shook his head as if he couldn’t believe history was about to repeat itself.
“They have great ballet schools there,” Natalie said. “I’d keep teaching. And Marie would go to school, of course.”
“When’s the wedding?” Julie asked.
“May,” Natalie said. “So we wouldn’t go until then.” She reached for Owen’s hand and he gave it to her, gave her all his strength. He’d give her anything he could. “Owen will likely go in January for a few weeks. Once the contract is sorted out and signed, he’ll come back to Gold Valley, we’ll get married, and pack up, and then move.”
“We’ve already asked Pastor Palmer to marry us,” Owen added.
“I thought he was retiring,” Natalie’s mom said.
“He is,” Nat said. “This Sunday is his last, but he’ll still be in town, and we booked the church, and he said he would love to do it.” She smiled at Owen, and he returned the gesture, glad everything she wanted for her wedding seemed to be falling into place.
Three Sundays later, Owen sat in the congregation with his fiancé and his daughter, trying to find something in Dr. Pinnion’s sermon that didn’t make him angry. But everything he said about trials and weathering them well rubbed him the wrong way.
He leaned over and said, “I have to go,” to Natalie before practically sprinting from the chapel. Once outside, away from the man’s deep voice, Owen pressed his back into the wall by the activity board and breathed.
He’d been working on removing that layer of waxed paper between him and God. It was very nearly transparent now, but Owen still felt the barrier there. He pushed against it, but it didn’t budge, didn’t break.
And he just couldn’t understand why God had taken Tasha and Henry. So his parents could struggle with grief and depression for almost a year? So an eight-year-old could grow to forget her own parents? So he could prove himself worthy by taking in a daughter? How did that make him a better person than he was before? How did his mother’s crying help her?
Owen shook his head, confusion and grief and fury flooding him. He’d managed to box everything up over the past twelve months when it came to Tasha and Henry. He’d worked on himself when it came to Natalie, and he had devoted himself to providing for Marie.
But he just didn’t understand how a loving, merciful God could do what He’d done. Couldn’t believe He’d punish a child so that the adults around her could prove their faithfulness.
Heavy footsteps came his way, and he cast his eyes heavenward, still relying on the strength of a God he believed in and loved, but simply didn’t understand.
“Owen.” His father’s voice brought a flash flood of tears to Owen’s eyes. He pushed them back when he saw his own agony reflected in his father’s eyes. He didn’t know what to say, so he kept quiet. His dad clearly had the same problem, and they stood together in companionable silence.
Finally Owen asked, “How’s Mom?”
“She’s getting better,” his dad said. “The therapy has been helping a lot, actually.”
“The anniversary of their deaths is next week,” Owen whispered. “I don’t—I don’t know what to do for Marie.”
“Has she been askin’ about it?”
He shook his head. “But Natalie thinks we should bring it up. Says it’s not healthy to let a child come to us with all the questions. Says we should be open and communicative about Tasha and Henry and how we’re feeling about them and all that.” Every time Owen thought about his sister, exhaustion overcame him. He couldn’t think much past that, and he didn’t have answers for Natalie when she asked him how he felt.
“That Natalie is a smart woman,” his dad said. “Will you be here next week?”
“Yes, I’m leaving for Nashville the following day.” He’d planned the trip specifically so he’d be in town, to support Marie, to support his parents. He was beginning to wonder who was supporting him.
All at once, like a gust of chilly winter air, a feeling overcame him. The hair on the back of his neck stood up and he knew.
God loved him. God had not abandoned him. God would support him through this next week, this next year, and all the years to come.
The tears returned, and this time Owen did not suck them back inside. They ran down his face as his father embraced him.
23
Despite the fact that Owen didn’t have to be at Silver Creek by six o’clock anymore, he still woke before the sun. He still got up and put on a pot of coffee before he showered. He still wore his cowboy hat and kept quiet so he wouldn’t wake Marie.
He plucked chords and ran through lyrics in his head, writing things down and scratching others out. When he woke her at seven-thirty, he played through his songs for her and told her a story about one or both of her parents. He encouraged her to ask questions, but Marie didn’t really seem to have any.
The day of his sister’s death dawned particularly cold. He didn’t get out his guitar but sat at the kitchen table with his mug, waiting for Natalie to arrive. She blew through the front door at seven-fifteen, a beautiful, mussed addition to his life.
He kissed her quick, his nerves and exhaustion near their breaking point. Since his revelation at church the prior week, Owen had been holding onto that feeling and praying for the emotional stability and strength he needed. Problem was, he never really knew how much he needed, and he often felt like he came up short.
At the same time, he hadn’t been able to bring himself to go to church just a few days ago. He didn’t want to be angry again, didn’t want to question himself, didn’t want to break down. Natalie had come and taken Marie, and he’d told her everything he felt, everything he thought about.
“I’ll go get Marie,” he said, still unsure of what he wanted to tell her that day. He smiled, at peace for several breaths, as he stood in her bedroom doorway and watched her sleep. She really was angelic with her white-blonde hair fanned around her face. The love he felt increased, doubled and then tripled, and he wondered if her parents were watching over her.
Of course they are, he thought, and the idea brought him so much comfort. It also lifted the weight he felt. Marie didn’t have to rely on Owen alone. She could rely on the Lord too.
He crossed to her bedside and woke her. “Will you come on out to the kitchen?” he asked. “Nat’s here and we want to talk to you.”
She slipped her hand into his and they walked down the hall together.
“Hiya, baby,” Natalie said, pulling Marie into a gentle embrace. “Did you sleep good?”
“Yeah.” Marie yawned as she bent down and patted Tar Baby’s head. Natalie collected Marie into her lap and looked at Owen.
“Marie,” he said, taking his spot at the table. He looked into her eyes, and all the carefully planned things he was going to say vanished. “Your mom could peel an apple in one, long piece.” He smiled as the memory washed over him like summer rain. “Once, Grandma had to leave us home alone, and I wanted an apple but I don’t like the peels. So your mom got out a knife and she started peeling it for me. She showed me how to do it, but every time I tried, the knife would slip.”
He grinned and a light chuckle slipped from his lips. “When Grandma got home, she sure was mad that we’d peeled every apple in the house but only eaten one.”
Marie smiled and giggled with him, the sound as healing as anything Owen had experienced. He met Natalie’s eye and realized he didn’t have to have all the answers, didn�
��t have to have perfect belief, didn’t have to be everything to everyone.
Gratitude filled his heart for the two people in the room with him, and for his faith in the Lord, and that was enough for now.
Owen took his faith with him to Nashville, where he really needed it. He relied on his gut and the Lord’s strength as he met with Jim Guthrie and everyone else at the Universal Media Group. The producer of his previous album no longer worked at the company, and Owen took a few days to meet with other producers. He paced in his hotel room and bent over the contract when it came.
He met with a real estate agent and sent pictures to Natalie of the houses he went to see. Everything felt like it was falling into place, maybe a little too fast for Owen to keep track of it all. When he felt overwhelmed, he got down on his knees, and he kept a prayer in his heart if he couldn’t kneel.
After two weeks away from those he loved, he entered the offices at the Universal Music Group and handed Jim the signed contract. “I’ll be back in May,” he said. “After I get married. I’ll be ready to record then.”
Jim flipped a couple of pages. “Twelve songs?”
Owen grinned and tapped his temple. “I’ve got them up here. I’ve got three done, plus the one you were sent.”
“You know, you could get away with nine songs on the album.”
“Nah.” Owen felt lighter than he had since arriving in Nashville. “I’m feeling good about twelve.” He pointed to the contract. “But I did change the due date. I don’t want to rush the way I did last time. I’ll be a newlywed and I have a daughter who’s about to turn nine. I can’t work all the time the way I did last time.”
Jim turned to the appropriate page. “December?”
“We can get the album out in February, and I can be playing in March,” he said. “I believe the SXSW is still the place to be. You can use a teaser in July to pitch me, and the media will then know that I’m back, making another album.”
Jim quirked an eyebrow at him. “Look who’s thinking about marketing this time.”
“There will be lots of differences this time around,” Owen said.
“You think people won’t already know about your trip down here? That they won’t find out until July?”
“That’s exactly what I think,” Owen said. “No one knows I’m here except my family. I’ve stuck to my hotel and your office. I don’t want anyone to know until summertime, until I’ve moved back with my family.” He narrowed his eyes at Jim. “Can we make that happen? I don’t want reporters at my wedding.” He couldn’t even imagine how Natalie would react then.
Jim set the contract on his desk. “No one will know until summer.” He shook Owen’s hand, the deal finally done.
Natalie let Julie flutter around her like a hummingbird, her fingers adjusting the veil, then swiping something from her face, then straightening a button. She sniffed as she’d been weeping for most of the morning.
“I can’t believe you’re getting married,” she said. “And to Owen, the boy you’ve loved your whole life.” Julie stepped back and clasped her hands to her heart. “I’m so happy for you.”
Natalie received her sister’s wet smile and hugged her. “Thank you, Julie. And hey, you brought a date.”
“Pish posh,” Julie said. “Don’t make a big deal out of it.”
“So you aren’t dating Talbot?”
Julie’s smile turned wicked. “Of course I am.” She laughed, her tears now completely gone.
A rush of love filled Natalie from top to bottom. “So I guess I should start saving so we can come to Peach Valley for your wedding.”
Julie shook her head, but Natalie saw the longing in her eyes before she managed to hide it. “It’s your day, sister.” She peeked out the crack in the door. “Dad’s ready.”
Natalie looked at herself in the mirror, her wedding dress slim and fitted to her every curve. Just above the knee it flared, and she smoothed her hands down her thighs to the mermaid part of the dress.
“You look beautiful, baby.” Her mom hugged her, deemed her ready, and they made their way to her dad’s side. He too kissed her, fondness in every line of his face.
The organ began to play and the doors in front of them opened. Natalie stepped, her eyes first finding Pastor Palmer. She smiled at him, beyond glad he was there, the man she’d grown up learning from.
When her gaze found Owen’s, she was lost inside his handsomeness. Those navy eyes, that slate-gray hat, the perfect cut of his black tux. She wanted to take him home with her and never let him go.
And that was exactly what she was going to do.
“It’s so hot here.” Natalie scraped her bangs off her forehead as Owen fitted the key into the lock of the house he’d bought in Nashville. She’d only seen pictures of it, but it was stunning. Two stories high because it had no basement, and the largest Southern porch that had captured Natalie’s heart the moment she’d seen the picture.
“Richland/West End is one of the best neighborhoods,” Owen said. “You’ll get used to the humidity.” He turned back to the truck, where Marie kept telling Tar Baby to sit before she’d let him down. “Just let him get down.”
Marie stepped back, a dissatisfied look on her face, and Tar Baby jumped from the truck bed and bounded across the sprawling front lawn to Owen. “Well, should we go take a tour?”
Just as she had over the past three weeks since she and Owen had gotten married, Natalie took a deep breath, ready for anything. “Yes, let’s go see where we’re going to make our life together.”
He bent down and kissed her, his touch tender and electrifying at the same time. “Come on, baby doll,” he said to Marie who had just started up the steps to the front porch. He took Natalie’s hand in his left hand and Marie’s in his right.
“All right,” he drawled, making Natalie’s insides warm and gooey. How she loved hearing him say those two words. How she loved him.
“This is where we’re gonna live.” He toed the door open, and Natalie decided then and there that she didn’t care what the house looked like. She had Owen and Marie, and wherever they were, she wanted to be.
THE END
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Sneak Peek! Over the Moon Chapter One
“Oh, chips!” Caleb Chamberlain swung the overflowing shopping cart around, several boxes of waffles falling off the top. Ty scooped one up and lifted it back over his shoulder like a football.
“Go long!”
Caleb didn’t hesitate. His cowboy boots slipped a little on the tile in the grocery store and his injured leg gave him a bit of trouble, but he got his feet under him soon enough. He sprinted down the frozen foods aisle, glancing over his shoulder when he heard Ty grunt.
He put on a burst of speed to be able to get under the waffle box, reaching…reaching until he pulled it in and tucked it under his arm. A laugh spilled from his mouth as he slid to a stop, the old injury in his lower leg and ankle throbbing just a little. The moms with kids stared at him, and one elderly lady Caleb recognized from church frowned.
He tipped his cowboy hat as they went back to selecting milk and eggs and yogurt, then trotted back to where Ty was still picking fallen waffles from the ground. “That was awesome.” Caleb balanced the waffle-football on top of their haul. “But we forgot the chips and Gloria is makin’ taco soup tomorrow night.”
Getting grocery duty in February was every cowhand’s dream, so Caleb wasn’t overly concerned about hurrying to get the corn chips. He’d probably even suggest he and Ty stop by the deli to get a soft serve cone before they headed back up the canyon to Horseshoe Home Ranch.
No sense in getting back in time to get another assignment. Not
in such chilly weather. Even the grocery store had their usually open front area closed today, because the wind howled like it had a personal vendetta against the Montana town of Gold Valley.
Sometimes it felt that way to Caleb, and he wondered why he still lived here. But he couldn’t think of anywhere else he’d rather be. His parents lived here; his younger sister cut hair at the salon; his twin brother had only one more year in Michigan to finish his dentistry degree, then he’d return to open a practice.
Caleb had worked at Horseshoe Home since he was fourteen years old, with only a brief hiatus after he recovered from his car accident, and he didn’t see anything changing for the next dozen.
“Pretty girls up ahead,” Ty hissed out of the corner of his mouth, causing Caleb to stop using the shopping cart like it was a scooter.
The three girls walking toward them could hardly have graduated from high school. In fact, in Caleb’s best estimation, they were probably still in high school. Ty, though the same age as Caleb, looked and acted like a teenager, and could probably get away with dating an eighteen-year-old. But Caleb, who looked all of his twenty-six years, could not.
Didn’t even want to.
He wasn’t really looking for a new girlfriend, not since the disaster that had been Robin Melcher. Oh, no. Caleb was still trying to rebuild what she’d knocked down five years ago, and it wasn’t going that well. Definitely better than when he used to drown himself in alcohol, and exponentially better than healing from an accident stemming from his drinking. So his recovery was probably going better than he thought.
Still, he averted his eyes when Ty said, “Afternoon, ladies,” and kept on toward the snack food aisle. Ty was exceptionally good at making women feel special, like he’d known them their whole lives. Of course, Ty had lived here his whole life, just like Caleb had. They’d become best friends right about the time Caleb had driven himself off the road and into a cement barrier.
