by Lori Wilde
It felt weird to hear him talking like this and to be on the receiving end of his undivided attention. So, to break the tension that had arisen between them, she tried to make a joke of his remark. “It must be because the petals are short and stick out all over.”
Before he could continue the conversation any further, she tucked little Rocky back into his cardboard bassinet, retrieved an ice cream bar from the freezer, and handed it to the man who suddenly and inexplicably made her heart race.
He smiled his thanks, a gesture she’d seen a million times before. But today it seemed as though she were seeing it for the first time. He was a handsome man, but not overtly so. The lines of his face and body were clean and well-defined. Her friend’s exterior was quite a fine package—a model of excellence for his succeeding generation—but it was his inner calm and assurance that gave his physical features their true spark. When his light-brown eyes fixed upon her, as they did now, April felt powerless to break their magnetic pull.
The phone rang on the counter, jerking her back to her senses. Grateful for the interruption, she reached for the appliance.
It was Joan. “April, I’m down at the Pantry Packer, and they have frozen hamburger patties on sale. I thought I’d get some for the reunion, but if you’ve already got them, I won’t bother.”
“Uh, now’s not a good time.” April really didn’t want to talk to her mother right now. Not while she was still wrestling with the idea of tricking her family with a false wedding. “You see, I’m in the middle of—”
“Now is the perfect time. I’m here, and the sale ends today. Just tell me whether you want me to buy them or not.”
Colton leaned against the counter. “Tell your mother I said hello.”
“Is that Colton?” her mother asked.
“Yes, Mom. He said to tell you hi.”
“Your cousin Earl tells me you two are getting married.” Her mother sighed loudly. “I don’t know why you didn’t tell me about this. It’s not as if I don’t approve of Colton. I just wish I didn’t have to hear through the grapevine about my own daughter’s wedding.”
April’s mouth dropped open. Cousin Earl? How did he hear about it? And what other details did he—or anyone else—know about their arrangement? “Mom, we’re not even sure there’s going to be a wedding. All we’ve done is talk about it.”
Joan Hanson wasted no time making plans for the event. “I suppose you’ll want your father to give you away. And your aunt Freida could sing ‘Oh, Promise Me.’”
“By the way,” Colton piped up, “I called Earl, and he’s going to be at the reunion. He said he’d be glad to perform the wedding for us.”
Saluting with the ice cream bar, he threw April a charming grin and went back outside to finish smoothing the dirt roads that led to the campsites.
Her mother’s voice came through the earpiece. “At least you’re not going to live in sin. You don’t get any gifts when you shack up with a guy.”
It wasn’t until after Steven and Clyde had gone home for the evening that April got the chance to properly chew Colton out.
He sat on the church pew in front of the broad storefront window of the camp store, writing on the order sheet the items she called out. His right leg was propped on a pillow, and he had changed into clean shorts after showering off the dust he’d stirred up with the tractor. His outer thigh sported a white bandage where he’d been struck by a low-hanging branch after driving the tractor too close to a tree branch.
Although April had insisted that he needed antibiotic ointment for the deep scratch, he had waved away her concern, muttering something about a mother hen.
She gave a vigorous shake to a Yoo-Hoo bottle, then twisted off the cap and downed a large swallow of the chocolate drink.
He touched the bandage on his leg. “You’re fretting because you’re worried about me, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, I’m worried I might strangle you.”
He had the nerve to look surprised by her statement. “What?” he said, innocently lifting his shoulders. “What did I do?”
“Hel-looo,” she said, thwacking the side of her head with the heel of her hand. “You called my cousin Earl and arranged for him to marry us.”
He studied her intently. It was obvious he wasn’t catching her drift. “And?”
“And I haven’t even decided for sure whether I want to do it or not. Besides, Earl is a magistrate, which would make it legal. We’re supposed to have a mock marriage, remember?”
He hesitated only a second before answering. “Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong. Remember when your roommate from college got married a few years ago?” Colton straightened on the bench. “And she and her fiancé wanted to have her father the preacher tie the knot on the campus grounds where they met?”
April nodded, recalling the fight her friends had over the arrangements when they learned that her father could only marry them in the town where he was licensed. “They ended up moving the wedding to her parents’ backyard.”
“Exactly,” said Colton. “But we’re not going to move the wedding, and your cousin isn’t from Bliss. Hence…” he said, holding one finger aloft.
“The marriage won’t be legal,” April finished for him. She paced the floor in front of the cooler, having forgotten for the moment that she was supposed to be counting colas. “My aunt Freida works down at the courthouse. We could still go through the motions of buying a marriage license, but it won’t be binding if the marriage isn’t valid.”
Colton smiled. “So, are you going to buy a new wedding dress or wear your mother’s?”
She stopped her pacing and leaned against the cooler door. “What’s your rush?” she asked. “Besides, you still haven’t explained why Earl wouldn’t know that he’s not licensed to marry people outside his hometown.”
“Hey, you know Earl.”
She did know Earl. His forgetfulness was legendary. Her cousin took the job as magistrate to pay the bills, but his true desire was to be an artist. All his creative and mental powers went into the canvases that covered the walls of his office and home.
“All of the marriages he has performed were in his office,” Colton added. “Earl said this is the first one he’s had to travel to.”
“I suppose that could explain why he’s not up on things,” April conceded. She walked past Colton and dropped the empty drink bottle into the trash can.
Colton reached out and caught her hand, letting his fingers idly graze over her bare ring finger. “Then it’s settled. I’ll call Earl back tomorrow and tell him it’s on for sure.”
Despite her initial irritation with him, April didn’t resist his touch. He was a good friend—the best—for offering to do this for her. Sure, it benefited him, too, but she knew that he was equally concerned for her happiness. She squeezed his hand in return, noting the strength in it. He’d always been strong for her...protecting her and bailing her out of whatever predicament she might have gotten herself into. Once again, he was there for her. It was a lot for him to give.
And it was a lot for her to accept.
“This whole marriage setup might be make-believe, but it’s still a big decision,” she said at last. “I need a little more time to think it over.”
It was a scorcher of a day. The humidity was so thick it seemed to suck the energy from April’s body. This was not the best day for clearing tent sites of fallen debris and raking the ground smooth. But if they didn’t do it today, they wouldn’t get another opportunity before the tenters started arriving.
Sweat ran in rivulets between her breasts, soaking the front of her cotton shirt. Colton seemed to be no better off. Even his hair, which usually stuck out in all directions, lay plastered to his head. Pausing in his work on the tent site beside her, he pulled his navy-blue T-shirt over his head and wiped his face with it.
The motion of April’s rake slowed until finally she was leaning on the handle as she took in her partner’s large shoulders, the gleaming expanse of his broad chest, and the tape
ring line of his waist, which seemed barely wide enough to hold up his jean shorts. A fresh bandage was taped in place above his knee, and April noticed that Colton seemed to be favoring that leg.
As if sensing her eyes upon him, he dropped the shirt to the picnic bench and looked behind him. “What?” he asked, returning his gaze to her.
Embarrassed at being caught gawking, she moved the rake in a couple of lackluster strokes. “I was just wondering what was taking Steven so long to return with the wagon,” she hedged. “He should have been back by now.”
Quite a while had passed since the boy had driven the tractor to a remote comer of the property where he was to unload the collected scrub for a bonfire later.
Colton picked up the saw he’d been using to cut low branches from trees. “I wouldn’t worry about him. He’s probably taking a break at the camp store so he can cool off in the air conditioning.”
She nodded, hoping that was the case. “If he doesn’t come back soon, I’m going looking for him.”
Her partner grinned, pointing the saw in her direction. “Yep, you’re going to make a good mama. A little overprotective, maybe, but a good one.”
Steven shoved the last of the brush from the wagon onto the pile at the back edge of the campground. Later in the evening, after the wind died down for the day, Colton would set fire to it. The thicker branches would be saved for firewood to sell to campers.
He turned the tractor back toward the tent sites where he’d left his employers, and the wagon bumped noisily behind him. At least the tent sites would be shaded, and he’d get some relief from the sun’s direct rays. Steven pulled a red handkerchief from his back pocket. He wiped the cloth over his damp forehead, the action prompting the sting of a fresh sunburn.
There was a place that would be even cooler than the shaded campsites. A quick dip in the refreshing waters of the creek would be just the ticket. He was due a short break, so it wasn’t like he’d be goofing off. Steven debated whether to take the brief detour. The only drawback was that, in order to get to the spot he had in mind, he’d have to cross the back corner of Killer Bea’s property.
The internal debate lasted for a grand total of about three seconds. The old biddy wouldn’t be out on a hot day like this, he reasoned before hanging a right at the picnic shelters. He would just have to make sure he didn’t call attention to himself.
Steven killed the tractor engine out of sight of the widow’s house. She was probably inside taking a nap or making those stupid dolls while listening to some old fogey music, but he didn’t want to take any chances of alerting her to his plan.
Crossing the rise, he pushed aside the undergrowth that bordered the edge of the campground. April once told him that the previous owner had bought so many losing lottery tickets that he was forced to sell off this tiny corner so he could pay his property taxes.
His shirt in hand, Steven tugged the fastener on his shorts and continued walking toward the clearing that was Mrs. Turner’s yard. He climbed the fence and paused, prepared to make a quick dash down the steep slope and disappear again into the wooded area on the far side. The deepest—and coldest—part of the creek lay almost hidden amid the shaded overhang of leafy branches and vines.
He was about halfway down the sloped yard when a pink-clad figure rose up from behind the birdbath below him.
“Mrs. Turner!” Startled, Steven lost his grip on the waistband of his shorts and the unzipped fabric slipped to his ankles. Unfortunately, the momentum of his upper body continued at a rate faster than his feet. In the next instant, he was rolling downhill in a tangled mess of legs, elbows, hands, and knees. The cheap plastic birdbath did little to slow his descent, but arced upward with the impact, spilling water over the front of him as he came to a stop at the elderly woman’s gray orthopedic shoes.
“Oh, dear Jesus!” Mrs. Turner picked up the empty birdbath and held it between them like a shield.
Steven leaped to his feet, the shorts still firmly anchored around his ankles. He stooped, hoping she wouldn’t crown him with the lawn decoration while he reached to pull up his shorts and thus regain a shred of his dignity. The front of his skivvies was soaked.
This did not look good.
“Mrs. Turner, I can explain.”
He moved closer, trying to talk to her and prevent her from blowing things all out of proportion. She took a step back and jabbed the birdbath at him.
“Rape!” she hollered, even though no one would hear her. “I’m getting raped!”
Horrified by the accusation, Steven stood dumbfounded in front of her. In that gauzy pink dress, the white-haired woman looked like a hank of cotton candy, but nowhere near as appetizing. Her lips, pursed in alarm, were the same shade of pink. And loose skin hung from under her chin and arms. He gave a grimace.
Finally, he managed to gain control of his voice. “Excuse me for saying so, ma’am, but no, thank you.”
5
“I was just about to do Beachbody,” Stella announced as April came into the house. “I’m streaming it on my computer. Want to join me? I’ll fix us a chef salad for dinner afterward.”
“Honestly, Stella, I didn’t think he was your type,” April teased. She ducked when her sister threw a pair of yoga pants at her.
“You can wear that. I’ll get my spare.”
Stella left, and April ducked into the guest bathroom to change into the stretchy black garment. Stella came into the den a moment later wearing a leopard-spotted outfit that could have come from the wardrobe of Cats. With her petite figure, dark-blonde hair, and large green eyes, she did indeed look like a sultry feline.
“Perfect for a grandmother-to-be,” April observed.
“You’re just jealous.”
April lay on the floor next to her older sister and lifted first one leg and then the other. “In a way, I am,” she confessed.
Stella stopped singing the “positivity” song and looked directly at her. “Of this tacky thing?”
April switched to her stomach and arched the upper half of her body off the floor. “No, of you becoming a grandmother.”
“You’ve been spending too much time in the sun.”
“It’s just that you can’t be a grandmother without having first been a mother.”
“Wait, don’t tell me,” said Stella as she rose and started doing leg kicks while balancing against the back of a chair. “Your biological clock is ticking.”
“Like Big Ben, it’s so loud.”
“So, have a baby.”
She hesitated, wondering how much to tell her big sister. An unbiased opinion was what she needed, and Stella had always been honest with her. April decided on the direct approach. “I’ve been to a fertility clinic.”
Stella ceased her leg kicks and loosened her grip on the chair back. “You still have a few more fertile years left, Baby Sis. Just give it time. You’ll find someone.”
Ignoring the temptation to argue with her sister about how she wanted a baby now, April pressed forward. “I already have a suitable donor picked out.”
The two of them went back to doing leg exercises, their movements smooth and synchronized.
“If you ask me,” Stella said after a moment’s silence, “I think you should keep in mind that nature intended this baby making stuff to happen between a woman and a man. Not a woman and a turkey baster.”
“It’s not like that,” April insisted. “The clinic has brought happiness to a lot of women, and the process is very professional.”
“So why are you telling me all this? It sounds like you already have your mind made up.”
“I’ve received a proposal—”
Stella’s eyes gleamed with excitement.
“Only it’s not the kind you’re thinking of.” Then she proceeded to tell her about Colton’s proposal and the mock marriage he had suggested after she insisted the real thing would only ruin their friendship. “That way, he gets to keep the campground running smoothly, and I get to have a baby by way of artificial
insemination and keep my reputation squeaky clean.”
Switching off the computer player, Stella sat cross-legged on the floor and patted the carpet in front of her for April to join her.
“Why don’t you just marry him for real? He’s not Eddie Brock, you know. Besides, Colton has been in love with you for years.”
“Says who?”
“Says anyone with two eyes and two ears.”
“If you’re talking about him asking me for dates all the time, that’s just his way of joking.”
Stella leaned forward and placed her hand on April’s. “That’s just his way of telling you he cares about you. So, when’s the so-called wedding?”
“If we actually go through with it, I suppose the reunion would be a good time and place.”
“May as well. It’ll save you a ton of money on refreshments.”
“Do you think it’s a stupid idea?” April asked. “This mock marriage, I mean.”
Leaning back against the sofa, Stella hugged a large green pillow to the front of her. The gesture reminded April of the times she’d had cramps and sought to ease the pain by pressing something warm and soft against her abdomen. But she knew Stella’s pain went deeper than that. Her pain went to the heart.
“Nicole is the best thing that ever happened to me,” she said quietly. “She means everything to me, and I want you to have someone every bit as special in your life.” She gazed past April, lost for a moment in her own thoughts, before continuing. “But as much as I love her, if I had a chance to do it all over again, I’d rather not bring her into the world at all than put her through the difficult times she had to endure.”
April was taken aback by her sister’s honesty. “You really mean that, don’t you?” At Stella’s affirmative nod, she said, “Mom always claimed that she never held her granddaughter’s birth against her, but I know Nicole felt responsible for the tension between you two.”
“It wasn’t just Mom. Besides, she meant well. It was mostly the small-minded people with their tsk-tsk attitudes and Nicole’s classmates who wanted to know why she didn’t have a daddy. That’s what got to her.”