“All right,” he said, regaining control of the crowd. “Enough creative contributions. I suggest that those of us who are of age grab a glass of champagne—sparkling water, fake champagne or juice for the young’uns—and toast ourselves. Toast each other.”
But first everyone toasted him and Shallie. Again. And after that, Carly and her “uncles.”
Cord reflected with satisfaction that a new country life had just begun. Their country life, his and Shallie and Carly’s, was being celebrated, and no one had more to celebrate than he did.
* * *
EVERYONE WAS CHATTING, laughing, all enjoying each other’s company. There was music playing in the background, various CDs they’d chosen, and a few of the younger people were dancing.
Then Shallie caught sight of Eddie standing near the back of the crowded room. He was escorting a woman in her midsixties, classically attractive, and an elderly man using a walker. She nudged Cord; they instantly recognized Christine from the photo Eddie had texted.
Cord and Shallie looked at each other. This is it.
As they approached, Doug shifted farther back and Cord stood beside him.
“I don’t think introductions are necessary,” Eddie said in what Shallie thought was a somewhat misguided attempt at humor.
Christine leaned closer to her. “May I please hug you?” she asked in a hoarse whisper.
“Yes, Mom!” Their embrace began tentatively, then grew more intense.
Shallie was conscious of her mother’s slender form, her height—the same as hers—the light scent of her perfume, the softness of her blue wrap. And most of all, the comforting feel of her arms.
Releasing Shallie, Christine said, “Let me quickly introduce Doug. And I’d like to officially meet Cord. Who’s going to be my son-in-law! Oh, and Russ. Then can you and I talk somewhere private?”
“We’ll go upstairs to the office. And you can meet Carly up there, too,” Shallie suggested, since she assumed that, too, would be an emotional encounter.
“I hope to meet your friends at the wedding—if we’re invited,” Christine said mischievously.
“Of course! In fact, I’ll give you an official invitation.”
Cord and Doug had been talking and came forward now. Cord spoke briefly with Christine and Shallie with Doug, who told her how much he’d heard about her, especially in the past few days.
Shallie then gestured to Russ, standing a few feet away; he approached and she stepped back so they could have a moment alone—although she did hear him offer Room 2 at the motel and heard Christine say, “There are some good memories there, and this will allow me to overcome the bad ones. So I accept on behalf of Doug and me.”
* * *
SHALLIE AND HER mother sat in Cord’s office upstairs, a second chair pulled close to the desk. Tina had come in with a tray, bringing each of them a glass of champagne. “I can guess who you are. I’m Tina and we’ll talk soon.” Both Shallie and Christine nodded. “I think you’ll need this,” Tina said, putting down the two glasses—and a box of tissues.
“So,” Christine murmured. “I gather from Eddie and his associate Tony that you know some of my background. Let’s start there. But first I have to say it again, I love you, baby, and I’ve loved and missed you all these years.”
“Me, too,” Shallie half sobbed, leaning over to clasp Christine’s hand.
“You know I left this town because I was afraid, for you and for myself. I was afraid of my husband...and his cronies. He turned out to be a crooked cop, involved with the mob in Chicago...” She shook her head forcefully, then settled her gray-blond hair behind her ears. “I’d figured it out a few years earlier. That’s why your birth certificate says ‘Father Unknown.’” With a wry smile, she added, “I guess that’s accurate, since I hadn’t really known him. In any case, I felt I had to get out, that you and I had to get out. His threats were escalating.”
This revelation was no longer new to Shallie but remained terrifying.
“My half sister, Della, was kind enough to take us in, and then I got a threatening call from Kevin, and I had to escape, I knew she’d be willing to look after you. She and Norm. And Eddie did inform me that they died sometime ago. I’m sorry about that.”
Shallie nodded, not bothering to point out that the Schafers were mostly in it for the money. It didn’t matter now, and there’d certainly been moments of kindness.
She studied Christine, who still, in some ways, resembled that thirty-year-old photo—the classic profile, the slenderness, the expressive eyes. “I didn’t even know what you looked like,” she said. “Or anything about you. Until Russ found a few pictures. And a letter you’d left for Della.”
Christine stared at her. “She never showed you the letter I wrote, saying that I loved you and I was running away as much for your protection as mine?”
“No...”
“Damn it! I’m sorry.”
“It’s not important now. And I have seen the letter, thanks to Russ.” Christine smiled faintly.
“Tell me what happened after you left,” Shallie said. “I mean, I know some of it, but I want to hear it from you.”
“I think Eddie told you, but I changed my name and found a job in a motel near Orlando. That’s where I met Reba Shannon, who came here to Painted Pony Creek at my request to meet you, see how you were.”
“Yes, and she became my best friend for a time.”
“She reported that to me, let me know you were doing well,”
Shallie had to clear her throat before she could continue what she needed to say. “I think you know that Cord has a daughter by Reba. Eddie told you that, right?”
Christine nodded.
“Her name is Charlotte but she goes by Carly. And... Reba died two years ago.”
Christine hid her face in both hands. “Eddie mentioned that, too. I can’t get over it.”
“We’re all still sad about Reba,” Shallie said gently. “But we both love Carly.”
Christine nodded. “I look forward to meeting my granddaughter.”
“I tried to contact Della about...oh, fifteen years ago,” Christine went on, “with a message for you. A bit indirect, but I was still afraid to be too explicit... I assume you didn’t hear about that, either? My postcard?”
“No, but I’d already left by then.” She looked at Christine curiously. “How did you end up in Key West? Oh—and again it was Russ who unearthed that postcard. He found it in a book about Florida.”
Christine nodded. “I had the book shipped to her.”
“That explains it.”
“I left Orlando because I had another scare. I thought I saw one of Kevin’s...associates. I went west for a while, then came back to Florida.” She lifted her shoulders. “I just like it there. I decided to try Key West, see if I could find a job. I did, as a server in a bar. That’s where I eventually met Doug.”
“He seems nice.”
“He’s wonderful. Older than I am—obviously. A widower, no kids. And he has enough money that I no longer have to work. He also trusted me from the start. I explained my complicated history, which he accepted without question, and I began using my real name again. We’re happy together.”
“I’m glad.” And she was. “How exactly did Tony find you?”
“He had an age-progressed photo of me—one of the group of photos Russell found—and started by asking in the local bars. Lo and behold...”
“Good detective work,” Shallie said, smiling.
After a moment, Christine asked, “Can you ever forgive me, my sweet Shallie?”
“Yes. I already have.” She felt no hesitation in saying that. “I’m just so happy to have you back in my life.”
“I am, too! And I refuse to waste another second, another day. I don’t think, at Doug’s age, that we can move here, but I’ll visit, have you come to
us, keep in constant touch.”
“I’m still overwhelmed,” Shallie said. “My life feels surreal. Everything I wanted I now have.” She used one of the tissues Tina had left to wipe her eyes and handed one to Christine. “You know something else? Cord found his mother, too, a few months ago. Again with Eddie’s help. He hadn’t seen her since he was two.”
Christine closed her eyes. “Does that sound familiar or what?”
They went through Shallie’s history, most of which Christine had already learned.
Then Shallie said, “I’m going to bring Carly in, okay?”
She took a sip of her champagne and stood up, first grabbing a blank invitation from the top drawer before she headed for the door.
Christine nodded and swallowed some champagne, too. “Could you have Doug join us?”
* * *
SHE WAS ALMOST relieved to step away for a little while—simply because the emotions she felt were so strong, so new and unexpected. She needed time to absorb them...
Downstairs as she looked for Carly, she was stopped by Russ. “Did you hear Christine say they’re going to stay at the motel? In Room 2!”
Shallie nodded.
“God, I’m totally stunned. And incredibly happy,” he said, a bewildered expression on his face. “It’s like my past isn’t separated from my present anymore. Do you know what I mean?”
She nodded again.
“The only thing is...she asked about Bethanne. I had to tell her Bethanne’s disappeared, or in any case we’ve lost touch.”
“That must’ve been upsetting,” Shallie told him. “For both of you.”
“It was. Anyway, I’ll let you do whatever you need to do now, and I’ll drive them...home.”
She saw Cord, saying goodbye to a few of the guests. He hurried toward her, saying, “Carly’s still in the kitchen. I’ll get her.”
“Oh, and could you help Doug upstairs, too?”
* * *
CARLY HAD TO YAWN; it was almost eleven now. She badly wanted this meeting—and yet, she didn’t. Maybe she was a little envious that Shallie had her mother back? Maybe... What a parent-and-child reunion these last few months had been! She reminded herself that this was the woman who’d sent Reba here, who was therefore indirectly responsible for her existence.
Cord brought her over to Shallie, who took her hand and led her upstairs. Carly said, “I’m truly happy for you.”
She must not have sounded completely convincing, since Shallie’s response was “Don’t forget. This is—or will be—your grandmother.” That hadn’t occurred to Carly yet.
They walked into the office, still hand in hand, and Shallie said, “Mom, this is Carly.” Mom. It seemed so...strange to Carly’s ear. “And this is Doug, her husband.”
She studied Christine Fletcher—no, Elliot—an attractive older woman with something of Shallie about her. Or the other way around, she supposed. Without prompting, she released Shallie’s hand and walked over to the desk to embrace Christine and then Doug. “I’m excited to m-meet you,” she stammered.
Shallie left, with the obvious intent of giving them privacy—but not before handing Christine a wedding invitation. Carly had seen her fill it in downstairs.
Conversation was easier than she’d expected—or feared. Reba’s name came up almost immediately, and they exchanged memories. Of Reba and Christine (“Sharon Sutherland” as she had been back then). The nights Sharon and Reba had spent exchanging anecdotes and confidences at the motel bar. Christine’s gratitude that Reba had been willing to come here, to reassure her about Shallie.
Carly talked about the music Reba had taught her and made her love, showing Christine her tattoo. She mentioned some of the books they’d read together. The fun they’d had. She spared Christine the uncomfortable details about Reba’s marriage. But she did disclose that when Reba was dying, she’d told her about this place and her three potential dads...
Christine and Doug seemed to find that fascinating.
Soon after, Doug announced that, considering the time—after 2 a.m. in Florida—they should head over to the motel now, and could she ask Cord to help him down the stairs?
When she returned with Cord, she kissed Christine. “Bye...Grandma.” Smiling, she added, “Bye, Grandpa.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
SHALLIE FELT THAT the weeks before the wedding seemed to hurtle by, moving faster with each passing day.
The church was booked; Cord and Shallie had spoken with the minister, ordered flowers for the church and discussed the reception schedule, menu and bar with Brynne. The GateCrashers would start their set at eight and play for an hour.
Christine—she had to get used to calling her Mom—and Doug had left but not before promising to come back for the wedding. Christine also asked if they had honeymoon plans; when they said no, she invited them to visit Key West and stay with them, sometime in January or February. That timing worked well, and they accepted gratefully. First thing I want to do is go to Hemingway House, Shallie had told them.
Her dress and Carly’s had arrived, and she made no demands or even suggestions about what her attendants should wear.
She and Cord had bought the wedding ring she’d give him during the ceremony.
Shallie had decided to take Cord’s name, to become Shallie Hollister. There was no longer any reason to keep “Fletcher,” not with a dead and dangerous father, a stranger yet, being the source of that name.
And...she’d gone off the pill.
They were as ready as they could be for the ceremony—and for the next stage of their lives. Their life together.
* * *
THE DAY BEFORE the wedding, out-of-town guests had started to arrive. Like the Lewises (who’d boarded Holly for the occasion), Emma, Eddie, Julie and family, and, of course, the Elliots.
Cord hosted a “guys’ night” at Sully’s, while Shallie had a “girls’ night” at Bailey’s. He’d laughed when Carly made a sarcastic remark about how “traditional” they were being. That was still one of her favorite insults.
The next morning, after a night of love that they both felt foretold a lifetime of loving, Cord woke up, not in the least tired or groggy. He went downstairs to make coffee, do the dog duties and bring Shallie a cup. Awake now, she sat up, leaning against a stack of pillows, and kissed him.
As she took a sip of her coffee, he said, “This is the most important day of my life—and that’s saying a lot after this summer.”
She nodded. “Everything, my whole life, makes sense to me now, and so much of that is because of you.”
Tradition (that word again) would suggest that they should have slept in separate rooms—or at least beds—the night before their wedding. But Cord had no interest in that. And neither did Shallie. He’d had every intention of starting their married life with the same joy they’d already learned to anticipate. Why skip even one night of being together if they didn’t have to?
Locked in each other’s arms, they took advantage of not having to be up early today...
Sometime later, there was a knock at the bedroom door. “Hi, it’s Tina and Carly with breakfast for you!”
“Breakfast in bed,” Carly said with satisfaction.
What a nice start to the day.
* * *
AT TWO, THEY arrived at the church. At three, the service began. Cord was gratified but not surprised by the number of guests as he walked to the front to join his best men.
They watched Tina and Emma make their way down the aisle, followed by Carly, carrying a small silk pillow holding the rings.
Then, her arm in Mitch’s, Shallie moved slowly toward the flower-covered altar and the man she loved. On her way, she waved at her mother and Doug in the front row on the left, and then at Julie, Chris and Kathleen on the right.
The readings, the hymns and a short sermon came next. Then the mo
st important part, the exchange of vows. Reverend McPhail asked Cord, “Do you, Cord Tobias Hollister, take Shallie Fletcher to be your wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death do you part?”
Cord repeated the vow.
Shallie did the same when it was her turn. “I, Shallie Fletcher, take you, Cord Tobias Hollister, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death do us part.”
Carly, smiling and tearing up at the same time, brought them the rings, and they placed them on each other’s fingers. And finally the reverend said, “You may kiss the bride.”
Cord did exactly that, whispering, “Hey, Shallie Hollister. My wife.”
And she whispered back, “Hey, Cord Hollister. My husband.”
It was done! They were married. This was the woman he would love all the days of his life; they would not only love but support each other, share joyful times and sad ones. Perhaps share a family if that was meant to be.
Their lives had brought them to this moment, and whatever else happened, they would have each other.
* * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from A Promise to Keep by Allison Leigh.
A Promise to Keep
by Allison Leigh
Chapter One
The house—a generous term if there ever was one—sat on the side of the mountain. The wood had gone gray with weathering and the windows were miserly in number as well as size—probably to keep out the cold. Even on the warmest of summer days, there would be the wind that never, ever seemed to let up.
Summer hadn’t hit this part of Wyoming yet. During this time of year—well, March to May, pretty much—it could be warm one day and a blizzard the next. Squarely in the middle of April—the month after which she was named—it was colder than a witch’s tongue and a foot of snow still clung in the shadows.
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