by Liz Isaacson
The baby yawned, and Whitney sighed. “Yes, you are, sweet girl.”
“Nice to meet you,” Jeremiah said, stepping forward and shaking their hands. “We’ll be in the dining room. Whitney’s got a basket and fruit and everything. Do you want to come with me?” He turned and went into the dining room, Bea and Wendall right behind him. Whitney brought up the rear, some of the softness disappearing from her face. This was the businesswoman Jeremiah had seen before.
She handed the baby to Bea and started asking questions about what kind of fruit. Red apples or green. Yellow pears or white. Blanket or not. Large basket or small. The design was decided upon, and Jeremiah took up a position near the lights Whitney had put on the kitchen counter.
Bea swaddled the baby in a bright white blanket, and Whitney layered a piece of burlap around that, tucking the tiny girl into the basket.
And in that moment, Jeremiah knew exactly why Whitney loved her newborn photography. The spirit in her house was unlike anything Jeremiah had ever felt before, and he felt his whole heart open as if God had reached right down out of heaven and said, Enough, Jeremiah. It’s time to stop hurting. Stop resisting. Stop trying and just do it.
He closed his eyes and let the feeling flow through him. He’d been alone for so long, even without the support of the Lord, and he knew now that he wasn’t alone. Not even close to it.
He couldn’t erase the smile from his face as he watched Whitney work, and he couldn’t believe he’d told her the photographs were ridiculous or weird. They weren’t. They were made of magic, and he really wanted her to take newborn pictures of their own baby.
Bea and Wendall smiled through the good-byes, and then Whitney closed the door. Jeremiah stood several paces away, marveling at her.
“Thank you,” she said. “You were a great assistant.”
“I’m in love with you,” he blurted out.
Whitney physically fell back against the front door, her eyes widening. “What?”
“That was the most amazing thing on the planet,” he said, taking a step toward her, needing to explain. “When Laura Ann left me at that altar, my relationship with God broke too.” He drew in a shaky breath, not wanting to cry in front of her. Pure gratitude streamed through him.
“But watching you taking photos of that baby, so fresh from heaven….” He shook his head. “I can feel something, and that’s huge. I haven’t felt much for so, so long.” He reached her and slid his hands up her arms.
“I’m not alone,” he whispered. “God hasn’t abandoned me, and I didn’t know it until thirty minutes ago.”
“Jeremiah,” she said. “That’s great. I’m so happy for you.”
She didn’t say that she loved him, but it didn’t matter. She stretched up and kissed him, and Jeremiah could feel it in her touch. And that was enough.
June blazed by in perpetual heat. July dawned, and that meant there was only one more month until August. He was getting married then. He and Whitney got along great, and they spent time walking with the dogs around the ranch, eating brownies and ice cream out of personal-sized skillets, and collecting flowers for newborn shoots.
Whitney only did Conrad’s, and Jeremiah wasn’t there for it, as he had a ranch ownership meeting in town.
Just like the one he had today. But the pictures of his nephew were stunning, with a dark red bandana wrapped around the baby, rope, and just the hint of a spur in the corner. Whitney had put Conrad up on the bulletin board in Wilde & Organic, and Jeremiah loved seeing his nephew up there.
He loved that baby to the core, and he found himself frequenting the house on Quail Creek Road more and more often. In fact, Evelyn had invited him to stop by for lunch after his meeting that morning, and Jeremiah wasn’t going to say no to a free meal and rocking a baby while he slept.
He pulled up to the IFA building and got out of the truck, whistling as he went. Happiness streamed through him the way sunshine filled the sky. He had no idea people could be this happy. Or maybe he did, but he never thought it would happen for him.
“Morning, Jeremiah,” Garth Ahlstrom said, and Jeremiah grinned at him.
“Morning, Garth. How are the kids?”
“Fine, fine,” he said, reaching for the door.
“Here for Squire again?”
“He and Kelly went on a cruise.” Garth followed Jeremiah into the building, and they headed for the room in the back corner. Pete Marshall already sat there, as did Gavin Redd, who owned a place on the road that led west out of town. LeRoy Myers sat in a chair, sipping coffee while he chatted with Mike Lowry, who made the best steak sandwiches in the whole state of Texas. At least according to Wyatt, and Jeremiah had been impressed too.
Jeremiah took a seat next to Gavin and said hello. Garth crowded in on the other side, and a couple more people entered. Tammy Fullerton, who owned the apple orchards. Wade Rhinehart, who owned a ranch even farther south than Seven Sons. And Brit Bellamore, who lived and farmed next to the Rhinehart’s.
Jeremiah knew everyone in the room, as they’d all been coming to meetings for as long as he had. “Where’s Bear?” he asked, glancing around.
As if on cue, Bear Glover walked in, and he literally looked like a human version of his name. He had his phone at his ear, and he barked something and then hung up. His bright blue eyes blazed with fire, but it extinguished almost immediately as he surveyed the group.
“Morning all,” he said.
“Morning,” everyone chorused back. Squire Ackerman sometimes led the group on that month’s topics. Sometimes Gavin did. Jeremiah had once, but he hadn’t liked it. He’d rather just listen to the talk around the various ranches that surrounded Three Rivers, and give a little bit of opinion and input if he felt like he had something to share.
He’d heard about Payne’s Pest-free at meetings like these, and he’d learned about a job opportunity for Wyatt at Bowman’s Breeds. He’d found all the cowboys he needed to help at the Shining Star Ranch next door from the men and women in this room, and he sure did appreciate all of them.
Now that his emotions were back, Jeremiah had had a hard time controlling them.
“Who’s up today?” Bear asked, collapsing into a nearby chair. “I’m out, because I’ve got grasshoppers from here to Oklahoma, and I’m in a bad mood.”
“Grasshoppers?” Garth asked. “At Shiloh Ridge? That’s odd, right?”
“We get them every few years,” Bear said. “But usually not until August or September. I’ve got Marcy comin’ every other day, but I’ve lost a lot of corn.”
“Who else has grasshoppers?” Garth asked, and it seemed like maybe he’d lead them in today’s discussion.
Jeremiah hadn’t seen even one grasshopper, thankfully. He shook his head along with everyone else, and Bear looked even more disgruntled. “Great, it’s just me.”
“Well, you’re at a higher elevation,” Garth said. “Closer to water. Maybe that’s why.”
“Maybe.”
Gavin raised his hand, and Garth nodded at him. “I heard the price of yearlings is going way up this year. My guy out of Kentucky is desperate for horses.”
That was good news for Jeremiah, who had twenty-four horses and could probably spare a few—for the right price. Since he and his brothers had so much money from their inheritance, he never really worried about things like grasshoppers eating his crops or selling his horses when the market was high.
But he knew a lot of the people in this room did worry about those things, because they had to. The chatter went on, and Jeremiah enjoyed his ownership meetings immensely. The spirit felt familial to him, and he shook Gavin’s hand as he got ready to leave.
“Heard you were seein’ someone,” Gavin said.
“Yeah,” Jeremiah said. “Whitney Wilde. We’re getting married in a couple of weeks.” More like three and a half, but for Jeremiah, that couldn’t come soon enough.
“Well, I can tell,” Gavin said. “You seem so much happier.”
Jeremiah smiled a
nd nodded. “I am so much happier.” And he really was—at least until he pulled through the gate at Seven Sons and found Whitney there with her mother, clipboard in hand.
And that certainly didn’t make him unhappy. It only reminded him that he and Whitney were getting married very, very soon and she still hadn’t said she loved him.
He hadn’t said it again either, because he didn’t need to make things awkward between them when everything was going so well.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Marcy Payne didn’t like to deal with conflict. It actually made a knot appear in her stomach, and she felt like she was going to throw up.
Plane engines didn’t argue about prices. They didn’t text her and ask her to dinner. They didn’t expect her to clean two houses, and make sure Daddy got to his doctor’s appointments, and deal with grasshopper infestations.
She felt like the weight of the world rested on her shoulders, and she had absolutely no release.
She dusted Shiloh Ridge again and again. She asked neighbors for help if she couldn’t get Daddy where he needed to go. She gave discounts when she didn’t want to.
As for Wyatt Walker and his invitations to dinner…Marcy actually liked those. But they brought pressure to her life she hadn’t wanted to deal with. That was why she’d told him seven months ago that she couldn’t be in a relationship.
Yes, he’d backed off. He dropped by once or twice a month. She called him when she absolutely needed help, and he dropped everything and came, no questions asked. He laughed with her, talking when she didn’t want to. He held her, seeming to be able to sense when she needed that and nothing else. He walked around the hangar and picked up trash after bringing her soda and a sandwich.
Marcy liked him a whole lot, but she knew she was holding him at a distance. He knew it too. She glanced at her phone, the blasted blue light still flashing. She’d seen the text as it had come in, so she hadn’t swiped it open to actually read it.
She didn’t need to.
My brother’s wedding is next week. Want to go with me?
There might be more to the message, but Marcy didn’t need to see it. A wedding. His brother’s wedding.
Of course, the whole town knew Jeremiah Walker and Whitney Wilde were getting married. That made four Walker weddings in about sixteen months, and the single women of this town were growing restless. If any of them had eyes at all, they’d know Wyatt was interested in her, but Marcy stayed off the radar of most other women, thanks to her job.
And that was just fine with her.
But if she went to the wedding at Wyatt’s date…everyone would know. “Would they though?” she asked herself, stepping up onto the stool so she could lean over the engine more easily. The wrench felt right in her hand, almost like an extension of her own appendages. Marcy loved fixing things and she loved flying.
But she couldn’t fix her father’s cancer, and she couldn’t fix the situation that kept Wyatt out of her reach. Heck, she was choosing that.
The wedding was at Seven Sons Ranch, and Marcy could probably attend with little fanfare. Jeremiah wasn’t known for being social—that was Wyatt, actually—and surely the guest list would be small.
Marcy straightened, the scent of hot metal and grease thick in her nose. One of her favorite smells, actually. She wiped her hands on a blue rag and tossed it on the ground. Wyatt himself would probably pick it up later and launder it for her. A wisp of guilt pulled through her. She couldn’t keep accepting his help, calling him whenever she didn’t want to go pick up food, and letting him hold her hand if she wasn’t going to at least try to make something out of their slow relationship.
She’d given very little back to him, and she wondered why he still came around. “You told him,” she said to the plane in front of her. “I mean, I told him I wasn’t in a place where I could have a real relationship.”
The plane, of course, did not answer her. She really just needed some validation, but she hated talking about the same things over and over with her cousins. She’d told them about Wyatt, and no one blamed her for holding him back while they all dealt with her father’s illness.
When is the wedding? she typed out.
Saturday, Wyatt’s response came in lightning fast, which meant he’d been waiting for her to respond.
And you can respond to his texts, she told herself. No one wanted to feel like they were being ignored, and if she didn’t want to talk to him anymore, she should just tell him.
This Saturday?
That’s right. Three o’clock. Dinner afterward. We can skip that if you want.
Marcy rolled her neck, trying to find a reason why she couldn’t go. She’d still be able to make her morning dusts, and Daddy could be alone for a few hours in the afternoon.
You can’t miss the family dinner after the wedding, she sent him.
Yeah, you’re probably right. But you can. I just don’t want to sit by myself.
Marcy loved it when Wyatt showed his vulnerability. When she’d first met him, he’d been so aloof. Almost removed from normal humans, because he was a huge rodeo superstar. Even now, people asked for his autograph, and everyone looked his way wherever he went. He didn’t even seem to notice, but Marcy did, because if word got out about them attending the wedding together, they’d be looking at her too.
He still had sponsors, and his line of cowboy hats and boots would be out close to Christmas. He was a living legend, and Marcy honestly didn’t know what he saw in her. Small-town, Plain Jane, with a wrench perpetually in her hand.
I barely own a dress. She sent the text, knowing it was the weakest excuse on the planet. Unfortunately, it was also the best one she had.
I’ve seen you wear at least four different dresses, he messaged back. Can I call you?
Marcy’s pulse pumped a little harder. If he called, she wouldn’t be able to say no. He probably knew that. After all, it wasn’t the first time Wyatt Walker had spoken, and the man had a voice made of gold and honey.
She did him one better—she called him.
“Heya,” he said, perfectly at ease. “So tell me what’s really goin’ on.”
At least he didn’t beat around the bush. “I’m just….” She had no idea what to say, and Wyatt didn’t jump in to offer her a reason.
“It’s three hours, Marce.”
Oh, so he was going to play unfair with the nickname.
“I know you don’t want a boyfriend. I’m fine with that. Come to the wedding with me, and I won’t talk to you for a month. I’ll leave you alone.”
The thought of that sent Marcy into a tailspin, and absolutely nothing made sense. She wanted him to call and come by, but she was upset when he called and came by? She couldn’t have it both ways, and she found herself saying, “I can come to the wedding.”
“Thank you,” he said softly, and Marcy wondered if there was more to him not wanting to sit alone.
“What’s goin’ on with you?” she asked. “You exist in your own world—the Wyatt Walker Show. You can’t sit with your family at a wedding?”
“Yeah, I don’t know.”
“But you do know.” If she had to admit hard things, so did he.
“I need another surgery,” he said. “Next month. My doctors are optimistic and positive, but I’m…scared.”
And Marcy was a puddle of goo now. The man held serious power over her, and she wanted to be his soft place to fall. She turned toward the hangar doors, where huge windows let in sunlight and heat. She was glad this place was air conditioned and heated, so she could work day or night.
“I haven’t told anyone about anything,” he said. “Just you. So, please, just like the last time I told you about my health, keep it between us.”
“I haven’t told anyone.”
“I know that, sweetheart, and I appreciate it.”
She turned away from the windows. “Well, what are you going to tell them when you go in for surgery?”
“I have time. I’m going to wait until after the
wedding.” He pulled in a breath, and it sounded sharp through the line. “And sugar, if you need a new dress for the wedding, go get one. I’ll pay for it.”
Marcy smiled and shook her head, a giggle coming out of her mouth. “You don’t need to buy me a dress.”
She could hear the smile in his voice when he said, “Yeah, but I would.”
And she knew he would. Warmth filled her from head to toe, and she bent to pick up the rag she’d tossed to the floor earlier. “You know, I’m going to be doing maintenance on all the planes for the rest of the day….”
“Oh, I see how it is,” he teased.
“I’m just saying, if you got off early….”
Wyatt laughed, and Marcy liked their relationship better when it was built on him bringing her snacks in the afternoon. Serious things like weddings and surgeries overwhelmed her pretty easily.
“Well, I might drop by,” he said. “Thanks for calling, I have to run.”
“’Bye.” Marcy hung up, knowing Wyatt didn’t run anywhere these days. Too much jarring in his spine, and she wondered what this next surgery would be. She hadn’t even thought to ask.
What’s the surgery? she texted him instead.
He didn’t answer right away, and the ball in Marcy’s stomach rolled. So that was how that felt—and it wasn’t good.
She also didn’t quite know what it meant. What she did know was that she better figure out what she wanted when it came to Wyatt Walker, or either she was going to lose her heart, or he was. And she didn’t want to be the cause of any more pain for the handsome cowboy.
Chapter Twenty-Three
After lunch on the day of his wedding, Jeremiah dressed carefully, making sure each piece was in the proper place. Last time, he’d had his father there with him. And Rhett.
Today, he did everything alone, the door to his master suite locked. No one came knocking. No one texted him. The ranch was set for a wedding in the backyard, as he’d watched the party supply men set up the tent, chairs, and altar that morning.
