by Arlene James
Everyone else aahed or chuckled, except perhaps Magnolia, who seemed to be rolling her eyes. Her hair had been done in a French braid with the tail tucked under, and she wore a stylish mauve silk. Garrett wrapped his long arm around her slender shoulders, squeezing lightly and whispering into her ear. She laughed, briefly laying her gray head upon his shoulder.
Jessa bit her lip and looked away. Mags would be crushed if Garrett went back to prison. Crushed. The rest of the ceremony passed in a blur. Jessa let herself hover on the periphery of it, reluctant to see or hear too much. The dreamy romance of it all hurt her, literally. She remembered her wedding to Wayne. Though modest and small in comparison, she’d had such high hopes for the future. Wayne had seemed so very satisfied. Why hadn’t she realized that wasn’t enough? Hopeful and satisfied could not compare with the kind of love that Ellie and Asher so obviously shared, the kind of love that she wanted to share with Garrett and now never would.
Memories bombarded her: Garrett smiling patiently at her son, Hunter laughing up at him, Garrett sitting beside her on the arbor bench, reaching for her hand at the table, holding her chair after surprising her with a candlelit dinner, working, working, working to make Willow Tree Place a reality, Garrett folding the bedcovers beneath her son’s chin. Garret kissing her, his strong arms holding her close, making her feel so safe and so loved and so wanted. For the first time, she realized just how different her feelings for Garrett were from her early feelings for Wayne.
“You may kiss your bride.”
The pastor’s announcement, echoing so closely her thoughts, snagged Jessa’s attention. She focused on the front of the sanctuary, watching as Asher reverently folded back the front of Ellie’s veil and bent his head, smiling. Ellie lifted up onto her toes and twined her arms about his neck. Love poured off the two of them, flowing through the room, filling it. Jessa laughed through her tears, so happy for them, unbelievably sad for herself.
As soon as the newlyweds swept from the room, Jessa grabbed Hunter’s hand and rushed out into the aisle. Finding an inconspicuous corner of the foyer, she stood there, Hunter’s hand clasped in hers, and gradually brought herself under control. When Kaylie, the Chatams’ niece, and her tall, blond husband, Stephen Gallow, wandered by on the edge of the milling throng that crowded into the space, she caught sight of Jessa and stopped.
“There you are! Can we offer you a ride to the reception?”
Jessa shook her head. She’d rather have her fingernails plucked out than attend the wedding reception and was actively considering walking home from here. It couldn’t be more than ten blocks. Kaylie, however, seemed disinclined to take no for an answer and immediately pulled out her cell phone.
“I’ll text Morgan to let him know you’re with us,” she said, thumbs tapping the tiny keyboard. “Stephen, take them to the car. I’ll join you in a moment.”
Gallow dutifully kissed his wife’s cheek, smiled at her absent smile and lifted a hand in invitation to Jessa. Hunter slid to the big man’s side and looked up at him.
“Is wedding cake like birthday cake?” he asked.
“Better,” Stephen told him, bending low.
“Yum,” Hunter said softly, rubbing his abdomen.
Jessa stared at him bleakly for a moment, but she couldn’t deny him the wedding cake that Hilda had discussed so many times while they were at Chatam House. He was missing enough already. She would just have to bear up so he could see his friends and eat that cake.
All right, Lord, she prayed silently, following Hunter and Stephen Gallow out of the building, You’re in charge now. I can’t think anymore. All I can do is feel. You’ll just have to work out everything as You see fit. I give up.
Chapter Fifteen
Kaylie met them on the sidewalk, the ends of her pale blue chiffon wrap fluttering languidly in the evening breeze. They hurried through the dusk to Stephen’s expensive luxury sedan and minutes later stepped out onto the grass at Chatam House, where they’d parked at the direction of none other than Garrett Willows himself. Jessa didn’t try to stop Hunter when he darted across the yard to throw his arms around Garrett’s legs.
With an apologetic glance in her direction, Garrett stooped and swept the boy up in a hug. They spoke briefly then Garrett set him on his feet again and sent him off with a hand pressed to the center of his back.
“Lemon and raspberry!” Hunter exclaimed, grabbing her hand and all but dragging her toward the house.
“What?”
“Lemon and raspberry filling,” he said, “on the cake. And white icing. With all kinds of fancy stuff.”
Jessa couldn’t help smiling; his enthusiasm was positively infectious. “You have to eat dinner first, you know,” she warned.
Hunter sighed. “Yeah, I know. Garrett said.”
Garrett said. That was all it took for Hunter.
But what about what Garrett hadn’t said?
What about what he’d done?
Long ago.
Trying to protect his mother.
Suddenly, she wondered what God was doing. Whatever it was, she decided, following Hunter into the house that had been their sanctuary, it had to be better than what she’d managed on her own. A wave of something very akin to homesickness hit her, but she knew that her yearning was not for that suite of rooms upstairs. It was for the heart and, yes, the arms of the one man in the world who, she now knew without doubt, loved her. A man on his way back to prison.
It helped that everyone was so kind. The Chatam sisters embraced both her and Hunter warmly, thanked them for coming, gushed over the flower arrangements and saw the two of them situated at a table with Gilli Leland and her parents. Reeves and Anna went out of their way to make them welcome and introduced them to everyone who passed by, always making note of Jessa’s involvement with the decorations.
Anna’s grandmother joined them, as did Reeves’s mother and twenty-one-year-old twin half-sisters, Harmony and Lyric. Though identical, the twins could not have been more different. Lyric, a cellist and pianist according to her mother, put Jessa in mind of a young Grace Kelly with her ice-blond hair, dark amber eyes and classic style. Harmony, on the other hand, had sprayed shocking streaks of purple in her long hair. A tiny diamond stud twinkled in one nostril, and her eyes were heavily lined with kohl. She informed Jessa that she played guitar and keyboard, demonstrating with hands garbed with fingerless, fishnet gloves. Jessa got the feeling that her parents endured more than supporting her interests. Both girls demonstrated their Chatam heritage with dainty, feminine clefts in their dainty, feminine chins.
Garrett sat at a table with the Chatam sisters, when he wasn’t up rushing around to see to one task or another. The meal was extraordinary: a wide variety of appetizers, followed by a buffet of eye-of-the-round and pork-loin roasts, broiled medallions of sweet potato and too many vegetable dishes to count. The cake was a towering masterpiece decorated with candied violets and silver nonpareil. Half of it was filled with lemon, half with raspberry. Anna saw to it that Hunter received a “joint” piece so that he got some of each, much to his delight, as well as a small chunk of chocolate-cherry groom’s cake. He watched the goings-on with interest, but in truth, he was there for the cake—and Garrett.
Several times Hunter jumped up and ran after Garrett, obediently returning to his mother moments later. Eventually, the stringed quartet on the performance stage at the far end of the ballroom departed and a more lively set of recorded popular music began to play. Gilli proclaimed that she was going to dance and literally grabbed Hunter by the coat sleeve, pulling him to his feet. Reeves and Anna just laughed, so Jessa didn’t interfere.
Hunter looked at Gilli like she’d grown a second head, but he went along. By the time they reached the empty space in front of the small stage, a number of other children, mostly girls, were already spinning
and twirling. A few of them even moved in time with the music. Hunter stood on the periphery for a while. Then he began to tentatively pump his arms. After a moment, he rocked back on one heel. The next thing Jessa knew, he’d executed a neat spin. Gilli tried it and bumped into him. Recognizing his superior spinning ability, Hunter ventured out to demonstrate it, much to the delight of the adults around Jessa’s table.
Harmony popped up to join the children on the impromptu dance floor. Soon they followed her like a flock of ducklings as she taught them one move after another. If her spike-heeled half boots and incongruous evening wear, a threadbare denim jacket worn over a long, chiffon sheath, confused Hunter, he gave no sign of it, laughing and following along with surprising dexterity and rhythm.
Jessa relaxed and let Dorinda Chatam Latimer explain all the family connections. Jessa suspected that Dorinda’s animation stemmed more from a desire to deflect attention from Harmony’s behavior than Jessa’s interest. After several minutes, Jessa glanced routinely at the dance floor but didn’t immediately sight Hunter. Harmony, she saw, now chatted with another young woman.
Jessa turned her full attention to the laughing, gyrating mass of children, but she did not find Hunter among them. Fear threaded through Jessa’s chest, even as she told herself that he’d almost certainly gone off to speak to Garrett. Rising, she murmured an excuse and went in search of one or both of them. A quick survey showed her no sign of either Hunter or Garrett, but she found the latter as soon as she stepped out into the hallway. They almost collided, in fact.
His hands came up to grasp her shoulders, steadying her. “Whoa!” His blue, blue eyes gazing into hers, he tilted his head. “Is everything okay?”
“Have you seen Hunter?”
“Yeah, he’s dancing with the other kids. Pretty good, too.”
“No. No, he’s not. I thought maybe he’d come to see you.”
Garrett’s expression flashed from pleasure to unease. “I haven’t seen him since the music changed, babe, but we’ll find him. Come on.”
Grasping her hand, he pulled her toward the forward set of pocket doors, which opened nearer the performance area where the children danced. A mere moment was all they required to see that Hunter had not rejoined the group. Garrett caught Chester by the sleeve as he came through the doorway with a tray of dirty dishes.
“Go around and check the gentlemen’s restroom for Hunter. He’s missing.”
Nodding, Chester placed the tray on a folding stand next to the door and hurried away. Garrett towed Jessa into the ballroom and right into the midst of the children.
“Anyone see where Hunter Pagett went? His mom’s looking for him.”
Gilli answered. “He went to play hide-and-seek with the man.”
“What man?” Jessa asked, her heart in her throat.
Gilli shrugged and pointed at the very door through which they had just entered. “I dunno. He did this.” She made a motion with her hand, the kind someone would make to encourage another’s approach. Jessa’s breath snagged in her throat. Wayne wouldn’t be foolish enough to try to snatch Hunter now, would he?
“What did Hunter do?” Garrett had the presence of mind to ask.
Gilli pointed to the stage, which could be hidden behind a false wall and opened onto the music room between the ballroom and the library. “He went that way to hide.”
Jessa’s heart plummeted to her toes. “He would only hide from Wayne,” she said urgently. Garrett jerked out his cell phone and thrust it into her hands.
“Call 9-1-1.”
He raced off in the direction Hunter had gone. Jessa punched in the numbers with shaking hands. She was talking to the dispatcher when Magnolia appeared at her elbow.
“Jessa?”
Lifting a finger to delay any comment, Jessa turned and walked into the hallway while still speaking to the dispatcher. Magnolia paced her.
“I’m telling you that my ex-husband was seen trying to entice my son to come to him when he’s not supposed to be anywhere near either of us,” Jessa said. “We have a valid protective order that he’s already violated once recently. Now my son is missing, and I need help to find him!” The dispatcher asked where they were. “We’re at Chatam House. The address is—”
Magnolia took the phone right out of her hand and spoke into it herself. “This is Magnolia Chatam. I want as many police cars and officers here as you can manage. Immediately!”
Jessa threw a kiss at Magnolia’s cheek and rushed off in the same general direction as Garrett. She met Chester in the foyer.
“He’s not there, ma’am, and also not in the kitchen.”
Nodding, Jessa sprinted for the door. She yanked it open. Chester caught it and held it as she rushed through. He followed on her heels. The sounds of raised voices came from somewhere to their right, one of them Hunter’s.
“Let me go! I won’t go with you! Let go!”
Jessa and Chester dashed across the porch, down the steps and along the walkway to the porte cochere in time to see Garrett run across it into the darkness beyond, where the murky shape of a man raised his hand to a child.
“I’ll teach you to hide from me!”
The blow landed with a sickening thud and knocked Hunter onto his backside. Instantly Garrett hurtled his body at Wayne, shouting, “Run, Hunter!”
Hunter scrambled up and darted back toward the house—straight into his mother’s grateful arms.
“Thank God,” she gasped. “Thank God!” And thank Garrett. Again.
While the two struggling men rolled on the ground, other people arrived, Magnolia, Reeves and Asher among them. Garrett and Wayne got to their feet. Realizing that they’d drawn a crowd, Garrett admonished Wayne to calm down, but instead Wayne threw a punch, which Garrett avoided. Jessa watched as Garrett held up his hands, indicating that he wouldn’t fight back, but Wayne took swipes at him anyway.
“You need to get out of here before the police arrive, Wayne!” Jessa shouted, hoping for Garrett’s sake to avoid a repeat of the last time they’d fought. But even then flashing lights appeared on the street. Soon they would turn up the drive.
“Not without my son!” Wayne bawled.
“Man, you have to know that’s not happening,” Garrett reasoned. “Why do you want to ruin all your lives by stealing him from his mother, anyway?”
“She deserves to have her life ruined!” Wayne shouted. “She left me!”
“Because you abused her!”
“I didn’t abuse her,” Wayne scoffed. “I only smacked her when she made me. She’s got to learn obedience! She’s got to learn her place!”
Jessa sighed and shook her head, knowing that Wayne would not listen to reason.
“You’re sick,” Garrett told him. “You need a major healing in mind and soul, man, and it looks to me like God’s been trying to work that in you and you won’t let Him.”
“Don’t preach at me!” Wayne bawled, connecting with a solid roundhouse to the shoulder.
Garrett fell back, and Wayne followed, trying a chop from the left. Stepping in, Garrett knocked him off his feet with a blow that caught Wayne in the throat. “Stay down!” he warned as cops suddenly swarmed the area.
One officer went straight to Garrett, who breathed a great sigh and hung his head. The policeman grabbed one of Garrett’s wrists. Jessa opened her mouth to protest, but Asher beat her to it.
“Wait!” Asher called, striding forward. He pointed at Garrett, saying, “This man prevented a kidnapping. He’s done nothing wrong. Even after he stopped that man from making off with a child in violation of a protective order, he did his best to avoid a brawl. You have no reason to arrest him.”
“It’s our policy,” the policeman began. Asher cut him off, clapping a hand to Garrett’s shoulder.
“I am this man’s attorney, and I’m telling you that you’re making a mistake. We all saw what happened.” He pointed at Wayne. “That man sneaked onto these premises in the middle of my wedding reception in order to kidnap that child.” He pointed to Hunter, now clasped safely in Jessa’s arms. She nodded in an effort to underscore Asher’s words. Magnolia stepped up to her side.
“He’s done it again,” she said softly. “Garrett has risked his own freedom, without a thought for himself, to protect another. But that’s what he does. Don’t you see? He’s a protector, not an abuser.”
“I see,” Jessa whispered, nodding as a policeman hauled a handcuffed Wayne to his feet. At the same time, Asher and the first officer left Garrett standing alone in the middle of the yard and walked to a patrol car.
Magnolia squeezed Jessa’s forearm. “I knew you would.”
Jessa tossed her a faint smile as Asher and the policeman approached. Asher had out his cell phone and the policeman carried a camera.
“I want Hunter’s injuries well documented,” Asher explained. Jessa bent to look closely at her son. He already had the beginnings of an ugly bruise on his cheek.
“Oh, sweetie,” she crooned, suddenly near tears.
“It’s okay, Mom,” he said huskily. “Garrett got here in time.”
And he had. He truly had. She turned her tearful gaze in his direction as both Asher and the policeman snapped photos of Hunter. Garrett stood alone, one hand braced at his waist, the other clapped to the nape of his neck. He’d tugged his dirty white cummerbund into place and brushed off his sleeves.
Magnolia went to him, and they spoke for a moment. Then he shook his head, kissed her cheek and made a shooing motion. She turned toward the house and began encouraging the crowd to return to the festivities. They slowly did so, breaking off in twos and threes to wander back inside.
Jessa watched as the police put Wayne into the backseat of a squad car. Here and there, officers took statements and made notes. Asher patted Hunter on the head.