A Country Wedding

by Duncan Leigh

  Moving as if she was in a dream, Sarah made her way to the viewing platform in the center of the store. The salesclerk was right again, she decided as she stared at her own reflection in the large mirror. Rich white satin flared slightly over her hips and fell to the floor in a cascade of lace and flowers. From the simple sleeveless design to the fitted bodice with its modest V-neck, she’d never seen anything so lovely. It was as if the gown had been designed especially for her.

  And seeing herself in it, for the first time in her life, she ached for the whole deal. For friends and family crowding the aisles. For the flower girls and the ring bearer. For the minister up front and, most of all, the man she loved at her side. She wanted it all.

  She turned to Bradley, who’d left his purchases at the cash register and had made a beeline to the viewing area when she’d stepped out of the dressing room. Tears clogged her throat. She cleared it. “She’s right. It’s perfect.” She made an instant decision. “If I ever do get married, this is the dress I’m going to wear.”

  His voice thick with emotion, Bradley agreed. “You look like a princess.”

  I do, don’t I. She skimmed one hand over the satin.

  The sales clerk beamed at them over an armload of veils. “You make a lovely bride and groom.”

  “Oh, no.” Hurrying to correct the woman who’d been so helpful, Sarah waved a finger between her and Bradley. “We’re not getting married.”

  “Not again, anyway,” Bradley chimed in. “We got married years ago.”

  “Oh, I, I see.” A look that was one part confusion and two parts concern raised the sales clerk’s eyebrows.

  “Yep.” Bradley propped one heel on the edge of the viewing platform and hitched his belt. “I’m marryin’ a new bride.”

  The hands holding the veils drifted a bit lower while, if anything, the clerk’s brows rose higher. “You bring your old bride to the store to try on a dress for your new bride?”

  “That’s right.” Bradley’s grin stretched from ear to ear.

  “Well!” Her hopes of making a big sale dashed, the clerk moved away while a succession of ever-fading “well, well, well’s” trailed in her wake.

  Sarah struggled hard against the kind of laughter that could just as quickly dissolve into tears. Bradley’s joke was just the thing she’d needed to keep from falling to pieces.

  Chapter Ten

  When Sunday rolled around again, Bradley made sure he’d stepped onto Sarah’s porch ten minutes before, rather than ten minutes after, the departure time she’d set. Not that it had made any difference. If anything, his presence in Adam’s tiny church sent even more shock waves through the congregation than it had the week before. While titters whispered behind him, he sat, his hands clasped in his lap, his eyes forward, just the way his mama had taught him to behave in church. Apparently though, the majority of Adam’s parishioners had skipped that lesson.

  “Now, God says to love your enemies.” From his post at the pulpit, Adam waited for the commotion to die down. When it didn’t, he plunged ahead with his sermon. “Now, that has to be one of the hardest commandments on the list.”

  Bradley winced when a young teen in the choir loft actually aimed a cell phone at him. Pointing and talking in stage whispers, the boy bragged to the other robed singers about the picture he’d taken. The conversations in the pews had grown so loud, Bradley could barely hear Adam above the hubbub. He drummed his hat on one knee.

  As much as he wanted to hear what Adam had to say, perhaps he should leave. That was what Catherine would do. She’d tell him if his presence created this much distraction, he ought to skip church altogether.

  “These days, what with the news and internet full of…” Adam aimed a stern frown at the women in the front row who, from all appearances, were paying no attention at all to his sermon. His lips thinned and arrowed down at the corners. “Well, I think what’s most important in life is that we all paint our houses purple.”

  When no one in the congregation so much as blinked, Bradley grinned an apology at his old friend. Meanwhile, beside him, Sarah buried her head in her hands.

  “I believe we’d all be better people if we paint our houses purple.” Adam’s voice rose an octave. “With, um, pink polka dots, too.”

  “Excuse me.” At Sarah’s whisper, Bradley braced himself. Before he had a chance to ask what she was up to, she jumped to her feet. “Can I—can I have your attention, ya’ll?” Her hands clasped in front of her, she aimed a glance toward the front of the little church. “So sorry, Pastor Adam. I just have an announcement to make.”

  Around them, the room quieted.

  “Bradley Suttons, homegrown country music star—”

  Not at all sure where Sarah was going, but willing to follow her lead, Bradley tipped his cowboy hat to the crowd.

  “—would like to invite you all to attend his wedding to movie star Catherine Mann.”

  Wait. What? His chin jerked up. He had to have heard Sarah wrong. He stared up at the woman who continued on as if she hadn’t just fired a load of buckshot into his plans for a small intimate wedding.

  “It’s going to be held on June first,” she announced. “In my barn. So, until then, let’s give Bradley some privacy. And let’s get back to Pastor Adam and his beautiful sermon. Okay?”

  “Thank you, Sarah.” At the podium, Adam pressed one hand to his heart.

  Having said her piece, Sarah slipped onto the pew beside him, while Bradley did his best to figure out why on earth his friend would take it upon herself to invite the entire congregation to his wedding. His voice barely able to contain his shock, he swiveled to face her. “You just invited fifty strangers to my wedding.”

  “They aren’t strangers,” she whispered back. “Most of ‘em have known you since you were a kid, and they all loved you before you were a big star.”

  She’s a piece of work, that Sarah.

  There were a few choice words he wanted to share with her, but recognizing that this was neither the time nor the place, he forced his attention to the pulpit. In the pews in front of him, cameras had been returned to purses and pockets. No one peered at him over a seat back. No titter of distracting conversation threatened to drown Adam’s delivery. For the first time since he’d walked into the church and taken his seat on the wooden pew a little while ago, Bradley heard every word of the sermon.

  Well, I’ll be.

  He repositioned his hat on his knee. Catherine had always declared that it was best to ignore or run from unwanted attention. Truth be told, he didn’t care for that tactic, because it alienated the very people he was trying so hard to reach—his fans. But Sarah had tried a different approach, and her method of confronting the situation head-on had worked. Especially when she promised them the very thing they wanted—more access to him and Catherine. He’d have to keep that in mind the next time he ventured into town and someone asked for an autograph or picture. And he would, right after he figured out how to deal with the extra guests the girl next door had invited to his wedding.

  He was still thinking of how much extra cake and punch he’d need while he sat between Adam and Sarah at their old fishing hole that afternoon.

  “It was real nice of you to invite the town to your wedding.” Adam unfolded the waxed paper from the sandwich he’d pulled from Sarah’s ice chest.

  Beside him, Sarah stared to the side with arched eyebrows. Bradley shifted his weight in the camp chair he’d erected on the rock-strewn bank of the river. He’d had nothing to do with the plan, but if Sarah wanted their friend to think it had all been his idea, he’d play along. He chuckled. “It just seemed like the right thing to do.”

  Adam munched thoughtfully on his sandwich. “I think being home has been healing for you. Opening your heart will lead to a peaceful life.”

  Bradley pretended to check the tension on his fishing line while he considered his fr
iend’s words. For years, he’d dreaded coming back to Mill Town, having to deal with his parents’ death and the feelings he’d buried when they’d died. And, yeah, since he’d been back, he’d felt the loss of his mom and dad more keenly than ever. Every box he unpacked, every picture on the mantle, reminded him of them. But where he’d feared his childhood memories would drag him down, dealing with his past had actually had the opposite effect. He felt more settled, more ready to face the future than ever before. Coming back home had given him the chance to work with Sarah, something he’d enjoyed far more than he’d thought possible. But the thing that shocked him the most was that, away from all the distractions—the parties, the appearances, the endless media ops that couldn’t be denied—he was writing again. Really writing. At last count, at least a dozen new songs filled the pages of his notepad. He nodded to Adam. “I think you’re right.”

  “How are the wedding plans coming?” Adam took another bite.

  From her seat on his other side, Sarah’s fingers tightened around her coffee cup. “Well.” She inhaled deeply. “We’re done.”

  Adam chewed and swallowed. “I’m sure looking forward to meeting Catherine. You must love her very much.”

  “I do.” Bradley exhaled. “I do.” Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he caught the faintest trace of disapproval darken Sarah’s features.

  He told himself not to be ridiculous. Sarah had been nothing but cooperative and helpful in making all the arrangements for his wedding. She wouldn’t do that if she harbored any doubts about his upcoming marriage, would she? Maybe he should follow the example she set in church this morning and simply confront the situation. He opened his mouth to ask her if she had anything to say, but stopped when a hard tug at the end of his fishing line suddenly demanded his attention.

  “Whoa!” He leaped to his feet. Reeling in as fast as he could, he waded knee-deep into the river. Thirty yards upriver, the water boiled with an excited thrashing. The fish was hooked. Now, if he could only keep tension on the line till he got it ashore.

  “Ha-ha-ha! There she is,” Adam called as a glistening trout broke the surface.

  “C’mon, baby,” Bradley coaxed. He leaned forward, willing the fish closer. Water splashed behind him, and he relaxed, knowing Sarah had his back.

  “Oh! Oh, that’s a big one,” she called from just over his shoulder. Giddy with excitement, she laughed and clapped her hands.

  Suddenly, the fish was within reach. Shifting the rod to his other hand, Bradley dashed through the shallows after the flash of sparkling fins. The fish shied away, putting as much distance between them as possible. If he could only grab it… He lunged again. His hand closed over wriggling flesh. In the next second, the granddaddy of all trout wiggled from the tips of his outstretched fingers.

  “You did it!” Sarah jumped up and down.

  Pride and joy bubbled within him. This was a moment that had to be shared. He reached for Sarah, swung her around, and squeezed her tight. When he did, every nerve ending in his body snapped to attention, filling him with an awareness of Sarah’s curves. She felt so right in his arms that he couldn’t help but hold onto her while he pressed her closer than any friend ever should. The instant he did, he knew he’d made a huge mistake. Heat crawled up the back of his neck. He reacted by quickly setting Sarah back on her feet. Bending low over the fish at the end of his line, he shot the woman a questioning look. Had he ruined things between them?

  “Nice work!” she exclaimed, apparently oblivious to his discomfort.

  He allowed himself one relieved breath. But straightening a moment later, Bradley stared straight into Adam’s eyes. The minister and third member of their band of musketeers only shook his head, but the slight gesture was enough to convey a wary concern.

  Bradley swallowed past a lump in his throat. Sarah was a friend, maybe his best friend. But his feelings for her didn’t go any further. He’d made a mistake by hugging her the way he had, but that was all it had been. A simple mistake. A one-time thing. Adam—and he—had nothing to worry about…as long as he made sure it never happened again.

  Under clear blue skies, Sarah drove a final nail into the wooden slat. A short distance away, Bradley wrestled a thick wooden post into a freshly dug hole. The job really required two people, and she’d tsked at his stubbornness when he’d insisted on doing it by himself.

  What was going on with him? He’d been quiet and withdrawn all morning. To be honest, though, she’d noticed a change in his attitude yesterday. It was as if an invisible barrier had dropped between them the moment they’d celebrated his awesome catch at the fishing hole. The minute he’d let her go, he’d backed away from her like a kid who’d wandered too close to a fire. Nothing had been the same between them since then.

  She rubbed her chin. The hug—that had to be the reason for this new and totally unacceptable distance between them. And no wonder. She couldn’t speak for Bradley, but that embrace had certainly changed the way she looked at him. Sure, she’d already had a few questions about his relationship with Catherine. No matter how hard she tried to see things differently, she couldn’t shake the feeling that Bradley and Catherine were more like business partners than love birds. For his sake, she’d been willing to set aside her doubts, her qualms. But then…

  He’d hugged her. And once she’d felt his strong arm around her waist, once she’d pressed her head to his wide chest, it was as if a dam had broken. Suddenly, all the feelings of friendship she’d had for him had morphed into something far deeper, something she’d never, ever act on.

  Not as long as he was engaged to someone else.

  Not as long as he loved someone else.

  Was that the reason for his cool indifference this morning? Was he struggling with a new awareness of her, the same way she fought her feelings for him? If so, they both needed to get over it, and soon. She wasn’t foolish enough to think he’d change his plans to marry Catherine Mann. Not over one hug. No matter how good it felt. She didn’t want him to, either. She knew what it felt like to be the jilted one. She knew the hurt of discovering that the one you loved had been unfaithful. She’d never put another woman through that pain. Not for her.

  She gave her head a firm, thought-clearing shake. In a few days, Bradley and Catherine would marry in her barn. They’d jet off to Europe for their honeymoon. In the future, Bradley would live a life far different from her own struggle-filled days.

  Until then, though, she and Bradley had to work together. To do that, they had to move beyond this barrier between them. Wishing they could simply roll back the clock to that fateful moment at the river and undo the damage, she propped one foot on a rail. A short distance away, Bradley shoved a tamper over the fence post and pounded it deeper into the ground. He’d changed a lot in the nearly two weeks they’d been working together. A compliment might go a long way toward healing the breach between them, and she offered one. “You learn fast.”

  No response.

  Her brows knitted. The time had come to try a different approach. While Bradley bent over a shovel, she closed the distance between them. “I think that whole country-star persona is a put-on,” she teased. “You’re really just a cowboy deep down.”

  “Well, my dad was.” Bradley worked an extra shovel-full of dirt into the hole. “I think that’s where my life was headed before he and my mom died.”

  Okay, so it wasn’t fun and games, but at least he was talking to her again. She could work with that. She grabbed an extra spade from a stack of nearby tools and set about shoring up the pole from the opposite side. “Guess we never know what life’s going to throw at us, do we?”

  “You know, when I moved to Nashville, living in the city was such a change. I don’t think I ever really got used to it.” Bradley planted his shovel in the ground.

  The wistful tone in his voice twisted her insides. His fans, the people he worked with, his band—she bet all they
saw were his good looks and talent. But she knew the real Bradley. The one he hid beneath a cool outer shell. She’d been there when his folks had died, when he was so devastated that it had broken her own heart. Like that day, she ached to reassure him. To let him know he had people he could count on—his neighbors, Adam, her. “Your roots are always your roots.”

  “You know, I think I forgot what being home is supposed to feel like.”

  While Bradley leaned against a sturdy fence post, she retrieved a Thermos from their lunch pack. When he’d first come to town, he’d sworn that everything about Mill Town was in his past. Had he changed his mind?

  “I spent so much time trying to forget this place.” He stared into the distance, where a car drove slowly along the main road skirting the property. “But being back here—with you—it’s bringing it all back. This is home.”

  Her breath caught in her throat. Did he mean he was sticking around? What about his career? His marriage to Catherine? Had he changed his mind about that, too? So many questions crowded her thoughts, she didn’t know which one to ask first. Rather than pick the wrong one, she handed him a cup of coffee and waited to hear what he’d say next.

  “You know, I don’t know why I told you all that.” Bradley pushed himself upright. Brushing past her, he propped one hand atop a new section of fence. “I mean, I—I never really talk about this stuff.” He stared down at his coffee cup for a long moment before he looked up and met her gaze. “Thank you…for helping me find my way back to who I was.”

  She sucked in a shuddery breath. She shouldn’t be the one who helped Bradley rediscover himself, his roots, where he belonged. That job belonged to his fiancée. She was just his wedding planner, a fact she needed to keep in mind. The time had come to remind him of that, too. Taking the coffee cup from his outstretched hand, she cleared her throat. “You’re gonna need music for your wedding.”