“You were right about your father.” She sighed. “And about Herb.”
“Herb?” Cydney blinked at her. “What do you mean?”
“That was not a demonstration of undying love for me. That was a pissing contest,” Georgette said bluntly. “A chest-beating show about male ego and ownership. If either one of those randy old goats truly loved me, they wouldn’t have behaved that way.”
“Maybe they both love you, Mother.” Cydney hurried up on the dais, slid onto the piano bench and put an arm around her. “Maybe that’s why they behaved that way.”
“That’s sweet of you to say, darling. Utter bullshit, but sweet nonetheless.” Her mother smiled, but it was a weak effort. “I should practice some more. Will you turn the music for me?”
Georgette was still playing “The Wedding March” and Cydney was still turning the sheet music when Gus came into the great room with Gwen. They sat on the dais steps and waited till Georgette finished.
“Well, Warden Munroe?” She turned toward him on the bench.
“They were pretty convincing. I think Bebe bought it.”
“I think so, too. Aldo believed Dad and Herb, so that helped.” Gwen sighed. “Bebe’s still awfully upset about the clergyman, though. What are we going to do about that?”
“I’ll get on the phone and make some calls,” Gus said.
“Thank you, Angus. I’ll take Bebe a cup of tea and apologize.”
“For what, Mother?” Gwen asked. “You didn’t do anything.”
“Yes I did.” Georgette rose from the piano. “I let your charming old reprobate father turn my head. But never again.”
Tears gleamed in her eyes as she walked toward the pocket doors. Gus sat on the steps with his elbows on his knees, a sympathetic smile curving his mouth as he watched Georgette walk down the aisle.
Cydney’s heart broke for her mother. If you really loved someone you said so and did something about it. You didn’t argue and fight. You didn’t drop a rock on his foot and slam a door on his nose, either. And you didn’t joke about who was going to dump whom and when.
“Crap.” Gwen sighed. “We’re still from a broken home.”
“You’ll like Herb,” Cydney said. “He’s a nice man.”
“He’s a colorless twerp.”
“He treats Mother like a queen. He gives her anything she wants.”
“Well no wonder she fell for Dad’s malarkey. She’s bored silly.”
“She is not bored, Gwen. She’s very happy with Herb.”
“Oh please. Half the time Mother forgets Herb is in the room.”
“Only when Dad’s around.”
“I just said that. Do you need a tree to fall on you, Cyd?”
She’d already had a tree fall on her—well, on her Jeep, anyway—and still she’d let herself fall hopelessly in love with Gus.
“What we need to do is the dishes,” Gus said. “And go to bed.”
His eyes lit on Cydney, dark and smoldering. Her pulse jumped and her heart raced. She’d die if he came to her room and spouted some stupid drivel about chapter six. Right after she killed him.
“You need to get on the phone and find a minister.” Gwen turned on the dais step and pointed at him. “Cyd and I will do the dishes.”
Gus headed for the telephone in his office; Cydney and Gwen, for the kitchen. Gwen had just finished wiping off the countertops, and Cydney cranking on the dishwasher, when Gus pushed through the swinging door. She took one look at his face and said, “Uh-oh.”
“Pastor Phipps and Reverend Marshall have gone hunting,” Gus said. “Together. Cloris’ brother is a Baptist minister in Springfield, but he has a wedding tomorrow at four o’clock. I think Elvin’s our best bet.”
“Swell,” Cydney said unhappily. “Who’s gonna tell Bebe?”
“Let’s wait till morning,” Gwen said. “Maybe she’ll calm down.”
“Morning it is. G’night, ladies.” Gus slid Cydney a wink Gwen didn’t see and pushed through the swinging door.
“I’m beat.” Gwen yawned as she and Cydney climbed the back stairs. “If you get the urge to talk to me at 2 A.M. stuff a pillow over your head and smother yourself, will you?”
It was only 9:30 when Cydney shut her bedroom door. Two and a half hours till midnight. Oh God. What was she going to do?
If you really love someone, her little voice reminded her, you say so and you do something about it.
“Like what?” Cydney asked herself in the bathroom mirror. “Just blurt out, ‘I love you, Gus. I want to marry you’?”
That’s what an Uzi would do, but Cydney’s peashooter heart quailed. What if she asked him and he said no?
But what if he says yes? her little voice countered.
“Then you ask him,” Cydney snapped, and turned on the shower.
Her shoulders felt like iron, she was so tense. She stood under the hot spray until ten o’clock to loosen them, then dried off and put on her green-striped pajamas. At 10:30, she gave herself a facial. At 11:00, she did her nails. At 11:30 she had a panic attack.
On the stroke of midnight, Gus knocked softly on her door.
He smiled when Cydney opened it, his hair shower-damp, his jaw fresh-shaved and shiny. He wore gray sweatpants and one of his white pocket Tshirts. Under his left arm, he carried a rolled-up sleeping bag.
“Are we camping out?”
“Yep. Right here.” He unrolled the navy blue sleeping bag on the floor of the alcove and unzipped it. “Your old man’s a night owl. If he sticks one toe out of his room, the warden’s gonna be here to nail him.”
Cydney grinned. “I’ll bring the pillows.”
She grabbed two from her bed, tossed them on the sleeping bag and crawled into it with Gus. He zipped it around them, grunting and tugging at the teeth that kept snagging in the down-filled poplin.
“Need some help?” Cydney asked, sitting up.
“Nope.” He yanked the zipper shut. “Got it.”
They lay down side by side and snuggled together, Gus’ cold, bare toes rubbing her warm feet, the hair on his ankles raising gooseflesh on her smooth calves. He slid his arm underneath her and turned his head toward her on the pillow. The hallway wall sconces he’d left on glowed in his eyes. Not quite like stars in a night sky, but close enough.
Cydney tipped her head up and kissed his chin, still slick and cool from his razor. “You have the best darned ideas.”
Gus smiled and turned on his side, rolled her toward him and curved his arm around her shoulders. “Do I?”
“Oh yes.” Cydney cuddled her cheek into the curve of his neck, drew a breath and inhaled soap and shaving cream.
“Glad you think so. I’ve got another one I’d like to discuss with you.” He put a kiss on the top of her head, his voice a deep thrum in her ears. “I think it’s the best darned idea I’ve ever had. Want to hear it?”
Cydney’s heart clenched. “It isn’t about chapter six, is it?” “No.” Gus propped himself up on his left arm. “This is about us.”
“Us?” The heat in his eyes made her quiver. “You and me?” “I planned to keep quiet till after the wedding, but—” “Wait.” Cydney pressed her fingers to his mouth. Her heart jumped into her throat, but it was now or never. Time to take her place in the Hall of Big Guns or forever remain a peashooter. “I have something I need to say to you.”
“Okay.” Gus slid down on his elbow, his head in his hand. “What?”
“I—” Cydney’s voice squeaked. She snapped her mouth shut and bumped her forehead against his chin. She felt his heart beat, slow and steady, and so close to hers, she wanted to stay here forever. “I love you. I’ve loved you for ten years, since I read your first book. I don’t want to dump you. I want to marry you and stay here at Tall Pines.”
Cydney shut her eyes and held her breath, waiting for Gus to laugh or jump out of the sleeping bag and run screaming down the hall.
“Can I ask you something?” he said slowly. “Is that why you had picture
s of me pinned up in the room above your garage?”
“Yes,” Cydney confessed. “I fell asleep every night dreaming about you. I’ve got a catalog of Angus Munroe fantasies that would fill the Library of Congress.”
“Really?” He was laughing at her—or trying not to. Cydney could hear it in his voice. “Did we ever make love in a sleeping bag?”
“No. I’m not much for the great outdoors.” “How ‘bout a sleeping bag in front of a roaring fire?” “No,” Cydney said, wishing he’d laugh and be done with it. “A sleeping bag in a hallway?” “No. This is my first time in a sleeping bag.” “Then I guess I never proposed to you in one. In your dreams, I mean.”
“No,” Cydney said miserably. Just laugh and get it over with, will you? she wanted to say. Let me crawl back into my room and smother myself. “You never proposed to me in my dreams in a sleeping bag.”
“Good. I want to be original.” He slid a finger under her chin and tipped her head up. “Look at me, Cydney.”
She cracked one eye. Gus wasn’t laughing, he was smiling. Her pulse leaped and her heart pounded.
“Just so happens I love you, too,” he said. “Will you marry me?”
chapter
thirty
“You love me?” I’m asleep, Cydney thought. Asleep and dreaming. Or I’ve died and gone to heaven. “Really?”
“I love you.” Gus’ smile widened and his eyes softened. “Really.”
“And I’m not dreaming? You did ask me to marry you?”
“Since you asked me to marry you, it only seemed fair.”
“Gus. Oh Gus.” Cydney clutched his shoulders, felt warm skin and firm muscle under his T-shirt. She was awake. Gus was real and he loved her. He wanted to marry her. “What about my loony family?”
“To have you, I’ll take them. Your mother doesn’t scare me anymore. I must be getting used to her. Your old man can be a pompous pain in the ass sometimes, but so can I, so I figure you can put up with that. Your sister.” He raised his right hand and tipped it from side to side. “As for Bebe. Well.” He shrugged and smiled. “I’m trying, okay?”
“We’ve only known each other two weeks,” Cydney worried out loud. “Are you sure you want to spend the rest of your life with me?”
“Positive.” Gus grinned. “I’ve had more fun since I met you than I’ve had in all my thirty-five years. I’m counting on you to make the rest of our lives every bit as much fun.”
“Boy, I don’t know, bub. That’s a pretty stiff order.”
He grinned wider, caught her left hand and drew it inside the sleeping bag. “Speaking of stiff.”
“Down, Clyde,” she said sternly.
Gus threw his head back and laughed. Cydney covered his mouth and said, “Shhh!” He nipped her fingers and wrapped her in his arms. Cydney burrowed her cheek against his chest, smiled and felt tears in her eyes. He loved her. He wanted to marry her. Cydney the Nobody.
“I love you, Gus. I love you, I love you, I love you.”
“I love you, too, babe. You haven’t said yes yet.”
“Yes,” Cydney said, and sniffled.
“Are you crying again?”
“Happy tears, Gus. Goddamn happy tears.” Cydney raised her head, her hands to his shoulders, and gave him a shake. “This is every wish, every dream, every fantasy I’ve ever had come true.”
“I’d like to hear about those fantasies. Especially the kinky ones.”
“Sorry. No kinky fantasies. A few X-rated, but mostly they’re just schmaltzy, happily-ever-after dreams.”
“Tell you what.” He wagged his eyebrows. “We’ll make our own kinky fantasies on our honeymoon. Where would you like to go?”
“Paris. The one in France, not Texas.”
Gus laughed, softly so he wouldn’t wake anyone. It was a tight squeeze, but he turned on his stomach and propped himself on his elbows. So did Cydney, the sleeping bag twisting around her. She kicked at it, gathered a pillow in her arms and tucked it under her chin.
“Here’s what I think about our wedding,” he said. “I want you to be the center of attention, so I think we should keep quiet till Aldo and Bebe are hitched. Maybe till your mother marries Herb, but that’s your call.”
“After tonight, I’m not sure Mother will marry him. Too bad. It would have been a lovely wedding,” Cydney said wistfully. “A candlelight ceremony on Christmas Eve.”
“We could do that. Or we could be married here at Tall Pines.”
“I’d love to be married here.” Cydney bent her elbow on her pillow and leaned her head on her hand. “But I don’t want to copy Bebe.”
“Okay. Got any hot wedding fantasies?”
“A zillion. Want to hear my most favorite?”
Gus grinned. “You bet.”
“It’s a church wedding. In Westminster Abbey, because you’ve been knighted for outstanding literary achievement.”
Gus gave a shout of laughter and rolled on his back.
“You haven’t heard the best part.” Cydney clapped a hand over his mouth. “You win a Pulitzer and the Nobel Prize. For a wedding present, you buy me a castle in Scotland. On our honeymoon, we shear sheep.”
Gus laughed till tears rolled down his cheeks. Cydney grinned, watching him, the deep rumble of his half-choked laughter against her hand humming in her bone marrow.
“God, that’s funny.” He kissed her palm, rolled toward her and wiped his eyes. “You should write a book about your fantasies.”
“I am writing a book about my fantasies,” she said, and kissed him.
A deep, openmouthed kiss that made Gus growl. His arms closed around her and pulled her against him, his lips—and Clyde—hard and eager. A giggle of sheer bliss bubbled up Cydney’s throat.
Gus raised his head and sucked a breath. “What?”
“We can’t have hot, wild sex in this sleeping bag.”
“How d’you know? You’ve never done it in a sleeping bag.”
Cydney laughed softly and wound her arms around his neck. Gus bent his head, took her mouth again and cupped her breast.
Around the corner in the hallway, something creaked. Gus pushed up on his hand and swung his head toward the sound. Cydney struggled to sit up beside him, the sleeping bag coiling around her like a snake. She heard a soft tap, then her mother hiss, “What do you want?”
“To apologize. I’m sorry I upset you and Bebe, George. I love you.”
“Go away, Fletch. You’re married.”
“About Domino—”
“She’s in the hot tub with Gwen’s fiance.”
“Listen, George. I can explain Domino and Misha.”
“Gwen will kill him.” Cydney reached over Gus, grabbed the zipper tab and tugged. The teeth stuck.
“Let me.” Gus fumbled the tab out of her fingers and gave it a pull. The teeth dug deeper into the down-filled poplin.
“I don’t want to hear about your wife’s love affair, Fletch.”
“George, wait.” Cydney heard a thump. Her father’s hand against her mother’s bedroom door, she guessed. “I love you. Leaving you was the biggest mistake I ever made. I want you back.”
“Go to your room, Fletch, before Gus catches you.”
“Gus can’t catch anybody,” he snarled between his teeth as he yanked on the zipper—”till he gets out of this freaking sleeping bag!”
“Too late!” Herb crowed triumphantly. “I’ve caught you, Parrish!”
“Go away, Herb,” Fletch barked. “Wake Bebe and I’ll deck you.”
“Goddamn zipper.” Gus jerked and wrenched but it was stuck tight. Cydney tried to help, but her fingers weren’t strong enough. “Roll away from me. If I can wiggle out, maybe you’ll have room.”
Gus flopped on his back and rolled. Using her elbows and her knees, Cydney inched like a worm out of the down-filled cocoon.
“Both of you go to bed,” Georgette said. “I’m not speaking to you.”
“You were talking to him!” Herb accused.
; “Well duh, Herb,” Fletch said. “What does that tell you?”
“Why you—”
“Herbert!” Georgette gave a muffled scream.
Cydney heard a crunch, a thud and crawled faster, the sleeping bag winding around her ankles until Gus tugged it free. A door opened and she held her breath, afraid they’d wakened Bebe.
“Scram, you two!” Gwen threatened. “Or I’ll call the warden.”
“Call him,” Herb challenged. “Parrish broke the rules.”
“And you broke my goddamn nose!” Fletch howled.
“Dad!” Gwen cried softly. “You’re bleeding!”
“You’re an idiot, Herbert! You both broke the rules!”
“But Parrish broke them first!”
“Oh, go away, Herbert! Fletch, dear! Are you all right?”
“Made it.” Cydney sprawled on her stomach, free at last, and scrambled around on her knees to help Gus out of the sleeping bag.
“Georgette!” Herb cried, stricken. “You’re my fiancee!”
“Shut up!” Gwen hissed. “If you wake Bebe I’ll—”
“Oh no!” Bebe wailed. “Not again!”
Cydney didn’t hear her niece open her bedroom door, but she heard her slam it. People in Springfield probably heard her slam it.
“Well, that tears it,” Gus spat, kicking the sleeping bag away.
“Goddamn it, Herb!” Gwen cried furiously. “Bebe, honey. It’s me. Open the door, sweetie.”
Cydney heard Gwen knock and another door bang open.
“Beebs!” Aldo cried. “What—Gramma George. Herb,” he said bewilderedly. “Why are you bleeding, Grampa Fletch? Where’s Uncle Gus?”
“I’m here, Aldo.” Gus stood up, pulled Cydney to her feet and led her around the corner into the hallway.
Her father sat on the floor. Georgette knelt beside him, trying to pry his hand away from his nose. Gwen tapped on Bebe’s door, her hand on the knob, Aldo beside her in a rumpled T-shirt and shorts. Herb stood, blinking forlornly without his glasses, in wrinkled blue pajamas.
“Do me a favor, pal,” Gus said to Aldo. “Call Sheriff Cantwell.”
“Never mind, Gus. I’m leaving,” Herb said. “Are you coming with me, Georgette?”
Mother of the Bride Page 36
