Honeysuckle Dreams

by Denise Hunter

  Good heavens, she’s beautiful.

  Brady’s heart stuttered at the sight of Hope. Dressed in the palest of pinks, her dress was the same color as the bridesmaids’ but a different style. He’d seen it on the hanger at home, but . . . yowza.

  The gauzy skirt hit just above her knees, making her legs go on forever, and a shiny ribbon encircled her waist. The lacy top was cut in at the shoulders, narrowing to a ribbon that tied low around her neck. The sides of her hair were pulled back, and the rest spilled in glossy waves over her shoulders.

  As she neared, he winked at her, and her lips curled into a smile just for him. Her green eyes sparkled with warmth under the chandeliers. For a moment he pitied Zoe, having to follow this gorgeous creature. He couldn’t take his eyes off her even when she made the turn at the altar and joined the rest of the wedding party on the stage.

  Only when the crowd began murmuring did he turn his attention to where Gracie was proceeding down the aisle—probably faster than she’d been instructed. With her red curls and ivory skin, she was Zoe’s mini-me.

  He cast a sideways look at Cruz, who wore his proud-daddy smile. The groom gestured his daughter toward the other side of the stage where Hope was discreetly waving her over. There was a collective sigh of relief as Gracie took her proper place.

  A moment later Rawley finished the melodic notes, ending the processional, and the organist began the first notes of the “Wedding March.” A loud rustling ensued as the crowd rose to their feet and turned toward the doorway where Zoe appeared.

  He felt the moment her eyes locked on Cruz’s. Sensed his friend’s tension just falling away. Zoe’s lips turned up, and the look of sheer joy on her face was enough to make Brady’s throat constrict a little.

  A sideways glance at his friend told him Cruz was having a harder time keeping a check on his emotions. The corners of his eyes tightened as tears filled them, and his Adam’s apple dipped with a swallow.

  When Zoe reached them, Cruz took her hand and brought her to his side, seemingly blind to everyone else in the sanctuary.

  A movement beyond the bride and groom caught his eye. He looked over in time to see Hope brush a tear from her cheek. As he caught her eye, his stomach did a flip. And he knew.

  He was so in love with his wife.

  She’d become his best friend. The person he wanted to share his day with. The one he wanted to share his nights with. He held her gaze for a long, poignant moment, his love for her all but bubbling from within.

  Somehow she’d wiggled her way right into his heart with her devotedness and her soft heart and her quirky little ways. Real love had happened.

  His mind snagged on the thought. On the minor inaccuracy of the statement. It had happened for him. He had no idea if it had happened for her. And if he recalled, she hadn’t seemed too keen on the idea of real love back before they’d married.

  His breath hitched. A prickle of fear poked hard. What if it never happened for her? What if he became trapped in a marriage of unrequited love?

  Zoe’s backyard had been transformed into a dreamland. Stars twinkled brightly over the moonlit landscape, and the scents of pine and honeysuckle lingered in the air. Beyond the peach orchard, the Blue Ridge Mountains stood tall and dark against the night sky.

  Hope took a seat at the oblong wedding party table facing the crowd as Zoe and Cruz worked their way toward the makeshift dance floor. Last Chance started the moving melody of “Amazed,” and Cruz drew his bride into his arms.

  Hope watched the newlyweds, her elbows propped on the table, her hands clasped against her cheek. The two moved together as one, joy and relief obvious in the width of their smiles and the relaxed lines of their shoulders.

  “I just love this song.” Josephine was sitting to her immediate right. “It’s so romantic.”

  “It’s perfect for them.” Daisy sighed from the other side of Josephine. “He can’t take his eyes off her. That’s just so . . . dreamy. Gives a girl a little hope.”

  Hope glanced at Daisy. It couldn’t be easy being the only remaining single woman of their friend group. “Your day will come, Daisy. Try to enjoy the journey.”

  “In the meantime, I’ll be corralled onto the floor later with the other old maids, dodging an airborne bouquet.”

  Hope laughed. “You’re what—twenty-four? Twenty-five? In whose universe is that an old maid?”

  “My mother’s, that’s whose. Everybody my age is getting married and having babies, and Mama reminds me of it every time she calls.”

  “Believe me, I know how you feel,” Hope said. “But God will bring someone around in His own time.”

  “Maybe you’ll meet someone tonight,” Josephine said.

  Daisy gave her a look. “While the air is heavy with the scent of wedding flowers and desperation?”

  “That’s what the whole bouquet toss is really about,” Josephine said with a wink. “Lets all the single guys know who’s available.”

  “Oh, is that what it’s for? I thought it was the bride’s last chance to humiliate all her single friends.”

  “No, that’s what the bridesmaid dresses are for—usually,” Hope added quickly. “I have to admit Zoe was very kind to us.”

  “Judging by the look on Brady’s face when you came down the aisle, he completely agreed,” Josephine teased.

  “I’ll definitely be wearing this dress again,” Daisy said. Her eyes lit up. “Or maybe I’ll donate it to the dress drive.”

  Each year the girls did their part to make the Spring Fling the highlight of the year for the girls at the local orphanage. Josephine provided hairdos and makeup, Hope ran the dress drive, and Daisy donated boutonnières for the girls’ dates.

  “That’s a great idea,” Hope said. “I might do that too. I don’t have many occasions for a fancy dress anyway.”

  The music swelled as the band shifted into the chorus, and on the dance floor Cruz brushed Zoe’s hair behind her ear.

  Hope’s gaze drifted down the table to Brady, and she caught him looking at her. Heat rose to her face as she smiled, feeling suddenly shy under the intensity of his gaze.

  “Look at her, flirting with her husband,” Josephine said. “You go, girl.”

  Hope pulled her gaze from Brady. “Who, me?”

  “You two are so cute,” Daisy said, turning back to the dance floor. “Oh, look.”

  Gracie had escaped her grandma’s arms and scurried onto the dance floor to join her parents. Cruz waved off his mom and scooped his daughter into his arms. There was a collective sigh, and not a dry eye in the house, as the three continued the dance.

  Hope was so happy for her friend. For a while there, none of them had been sure Cruz was going to let go of the past. Look at them now. Look what happened when grace was freely given.

  The photographer circled them, taking pictures. Those were going to be some keeper shots.

  A few beautiful minutes later the dance came to an end, and the crowd applauded. Hope went back into matron of honor mode as she made her toast. Brady followed, his words sentimental and charming.

  As the evening progressed, Hope made sure Zoe had everything she needed. She helped keep Gracie occupied, fetched drinks, answered catering questions, and took candid shots of the couple with friends as they mingled.

  Time seemed to fly by, and before she knew it the bouquet had been tossed and the cake cut. The band started a set of songs guaranteed to get people moving.

  A while later the band struck up a slow song, and couples began making their way to the dance floor. Hope approached the bride, who’d been cornered by the overly talkative Ida Mae Simmons.

  “Excuse me,” Hope said. “I hate to interrupt, Zoe, but I do believe your husband wants to claim a dance with his bride.”

  Zoe took Ida Mae’s hand. “We’ll have to catch up later then, Ida Mae. It was so nice of you to come.” Zoe tossed Hope a grateful smile as she went in search of Cruz.

  Hope took the older woman’s arm. “Ida Mae, Pearl H
awkins was just asking after your son. I was so tempted to share your wonderful news, but I thought you might like to do that yourself.”

  Ida Mae’s finely-drawn eyebrows shot up under her fringe of brown bangs. “Oh my, yes, I would. Thank you, Hope.” She scuttled off on her matronly heels, and Hope felt a pinch of guilt for turning Ida Mae loose on Pearl.

  “Very diplomatic.” Brady had suddenly appeared at her side. “But it’s time for Hope to have a little fun too—on the dance floor with her husband.”

  Hope took a quick look around to make sure all was going smoothly. “Well, I guess I can—”

  But Brady was already tugging her toward the dance floor. They joined the throng, and he turned to take her in his arms. Her eyes found Zoe and Cruz, turning in a slow circle in the center of the floor. Zoe tilted her head back, laughing at something he said.

  “Relax,” Brady said. “Your only job now is to be a wedding guest, and that entails lots of fun, lots of smiling, and lots of dancing.”

  Hope’s eyes swung to his. He was right. Zoe was having a wonderful time, and everything was under control. She blew out a breath, letting her shoulder muscles relax. She closed her eyes for a quick minute, drawing in the fresh scent of mountain air. The temperature was mild for an October night, perhaps midseventies. They’d worried about the weather for nothing.

  She shuffled in Brady’s arms, their legs brushing close. “I didn’t realize how much my feet hurt until this very minute. Ouch.”

  “Pinched toes?”

  “Like ten little hog-tied piggies.”

  “Kick them off. Nobody’ll care.”

  Tempting. “Maybe in a bit, after the crowd dwindles down.”

  “You’re just afraid I’ll step on your toes.”

  “The thought did cross my mind.” But in truth, Brady was all masculine grace on the dance floor.

  “You must be exhausted,” he said. “You’ve been running since sunup.”

  “And we still have to tear down all this.” She looked around at all the tables and chairs and the twinkle lights strung over the stage.

  “It’ll go fast. There’ll be plenty of help.”

  He tugged her closer, and she laid her head on his shoulder, slipping her arms around him. Contentment rolled over her. She liked having Brady for a husband, and it was nice to take a few minutes and soak it all in. He’d been pretty distracted this week with preparation for the final hearing. He was worried. Anyone could see that. But none of that tonight.

  She played with the ends of his hair instead, marveling in the softness. “You look very handsome tonight, in case you couldn’t read my mind earlier.”

  “Thank you. You’re absolutely stunning. I had this moment when you were walking down the aisle—I actually felt a little sorry for Zoe.” His lips moved against her temple as he spoke, his voice low and husky.

  “Why’s that?”

  His hand moved in a circle over her lower back. “No bride should have to follow that kind of beauty. You took my breath away, Hope.”

  Hope’s heart turned over in her chest as she huffed a laugh. “Clearly you’re a little biased. Zoe can hold her own any day of the week, and today she’s gorgeous.”

  He drew back and tilted up her chin. She gazed into his soulful eyes and felt her legs wobble.

  “So are you,” he said. “Inside and out. I’m one lucky son of a gun.”

  She didn’t know what to say. Sometimes he made her speechless, and some might call that a miracle. He leaned down and swept a gentle kiss over her lips before drawing her back into his arms.

  Oh yeah. She liked being married to Brady. If only things could stay just like this forever. But the hearing was Monday, and though she hadn’t said it aloud, something deep inside warned her that a major shift was coming. A foreboding tingling in her chest. A relentless tightening in the spaces around her heart.

  Determined to enjoy the present, she pushed the feelings aside and snuggled more deeply into her husband’s embrace.

  chapter twenty-five

  The moonlight filtered through the filmy drapes in the nursery, casting a dim glow on Sam’s sleepy face. The rocking chair creaked beneath Hope with each lulling roll. The baby worked his pacifier intermittently. His dark eyelashes were a feathery shadow against the soft curve of his cheek.

  It was just after two in the morning, and he’d awakened twenty minutes ago, fussing. That darn tooth was giving him fits, poor little guy. She’d rubbed some numbing gel on his gums and given him some Tylenol, and he was finally sleeping again, although fitfully.

  Hope smothered a yawn. It had been such a long day. They hadn’t gotten home from the reception until almost one.

  She wanted Brady to get a good night’s rest. Monday was the court date, and he’d had to deal with the fallout from the Parkers’ visit this week as well as the wedding stuff. He’d also asked April to keep her distance until the hearing was over.

  Witnesses were lined up. Zoe and Cruz had delayed their honeymoon by two days to accommodate the hearing. Brady had plenty of people who could vouch for him, but no one closer than those two.

  Hope caught up on her prayers, thinking ahead to the upcoming week. Not only the hearing but also the job in Atlanta, which, if she got it, started in only a week and a half. Diana had called this week, apologizing profusely for not having an answer yet. This guy from Chicago—his schedule had been the holdup, but he’d finally visited the station and interviewed yesterday. Hope put in some prayers about that too.

  By the time she’d finished praying, Sam had gone limp in her arms, so she stood and carefully laid him in the crib. He stirred as she covered him with a lightweight blanket, but he settled quickly.

  She tiptoed from the room. The nightlight glowed from the bathroom down the hall, and the furnace kicked on, chasing away the early October chill. She was pulling the nursery door closed when she heard the floorboards creaking behind her.

  “Everything okay?” Brady whispered as he emerged from his room across the hall.

  “Yeah. Poor baby’s teeth are just bothering the daylights out of him.”

  His hands came around her from behind. “Sorry I didn’t hear him. Was he up long?”

  Hope’s heart thumped as she leaned back into his chest. “No, I just gave him some medicine and rocked him back to sleep.”

  She wrapped her arms around his, her fingertips running over the springy hairs on his forearms. She held back a yawn, reveling in the solid, masculine feel of him at her back. When he nuzzled her hair, a shiver rippled down her arms.

  “You smell so good,” he said, his voice low and throaty.

  She smiled. “The fresh fragrance of baby?”

  “More like the sweet scent of Hope.”

  “I see what you did there . . .” She sucked in a breath as he pressed a delicious kiss on the side of her neck. “The little play on words.”

  “You have no idea how long I’ve been dreaming about doing that.”

  “Kissing my neck?” Her whisper was all air, little substance.

  He strung a trail of kisses back toward her ear. “It’s a very sexy neck.”

  “Well . . .” She tilted her head, giving him access. “Far be it from me to impede your dreams. As you might know, I’m a big believer in aspirations and goals and making a plan to—”

  “Hope . . . ,” he said.

  “Mmm?”

  “Shhhhh . . .”

  But she ran out of words anyway as he nipped her earlobe with his teeth, giving a gentle tug.

  Her heart pummeled her ribs. Hard to believe she’d been yawning less than a minute ago. She couldn’t fall asleep now if her life depended on it.

  She turned in his arms and found him close. But not close enough. His eyes glittered darkly and were laser-focused on hers. His hair was sticking up at odd angles—that cowlick—only making him more appealing somehow.

  He gave her lips a soft brush that made her heart tug. She leaned into his kiss, her hands working up to his shoulder
s. She loved the feel of him, all warm, soft flesh over taut muscles. Loved the scrape of his bristly jaw against her palm. His hands moved over her back, restless, as he deepened the kiss.

  She was out of breath when he drew away just enough to speak. “That big bed getting lonely yet?” he whispered against her lips.

  Her mind spun with thoughts that went unfinished as his lips swept over hers again. Helpless to do anything but get lost again, she returned his kiss with equal fervor.

  A moment later he pulled away. Someone whimpered as his lips left hers. Possibly her.

  His eyes flickered with something—hesitation? Concern? His thumb brushed her face. “Hope . . . I—”

  Behind the nursery door, Sammy let out a sharp cry.

  Brady set his forehead against hers. Their breaths mingled in the space between them as they held perfectly still, waiting to see if Sam would settle down on his own.

  She couldn’t seem to get her breathing under control. Or her heart.

  “Maybe he’ll go back to sleep,” Brady said a moment later.

  As if the baby had heard his hopeful tone, his fussing shifted to a full-out cry.

  She gave a reluctant smile. “Guess not.” Not wanting to let go just yet, she dragged a thumb along his jaw. The scrape was barely a whisper in the wake of Sam’s escalating cries.

  “I’ll get him,” she said.

  Brady exhaled a long, regretful sigh. “No, I will.”

  “I don’t mind.” She wasn’t going to sleep anytime soon anyway.

  “Go on back to bed and get some sleep.” He eased away from her, reaching for the door handle. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “All right. Don’t forget I already gave him Tylenol.”

  “Okay.” He pressed a quick, soft kiss to her mouth. “Night, Hope.”

  “Good night.”

  chapter twenty-six

  Brady’s hands shook as he tied his tie. He’d spent twenty minutes dithering over which one to wear. Which one would make him look like a stable, loving father who deserved custody of a child who wasn’t biologically his?