The Accidental Bride

by Christina Skye

  “And I thought I was cynical.” Walker rubbed his jaw slowly. “Anyone in particular make you that way?”

  “A whole lot of anyones.” As Jilly watched Walker finish his cake, she had a sudden wave of inspiration. “Wait there. Right there. Don’t move.” She rummaged in her suitcase and pulled out a bag of corn chips, which she dumped into a large ceramic bowl near the tiny refrigerator. She scanned the two small glass jars on the counter and opened one. Then she carried everything back to the table beside Walker. “Close your eyes.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Just do it, Walker. Have a little faith, why don’t you?” When he complied, with obvious reluctance, Jilly scooped up some salsa from the jar onto a chip and fed it to him. “What do you think?”

  “Spicy. But there’s fruit, too. Maybe mangos? More than one flavor, I think.”

  “Have another bite.” Jilly loaded up another chip and slanted it toward his mouth.

  Walker nodded slowly. “I wouldn’t call this good.”

  Jilly blew out a breath. After all, there was no reason for his reaction to bother her this much.

  “No, it’s way beyond good. Maybe it’s that sweet-and-spicy thing going on. Fruit with some kind of chili peppers. I’ve never tasted anything like it. Where did you buy it?”

  He opened his eyes. Slowly Jilly turned the bottle around so he could read the label. She watched his brow furrow.

  “Jilly’s Naturals? Are you kidding? This is one of your products?”

  She nodded, pleased beyond all reason by his praise. “I started my business with this salsa line. That fruit salsa was my very first product. You really like it?”

  Walker scooped up another chip. “I could finish off this jar without any problem. Very impressive, Jilly. It must have taken a lot of work. No wonder your life’s stressful.”

  Jilly shrugged. “It’s not brain surgery, but it’s the only thing I ever wanted to do.” She opened a second jar. “This one’s more traditional. Corn and tomatillos with two other chilies.”

  Walker finished that chip off in record time, too. “I could get seriously addicted to this stuff.”

  Jilly stood up and stretched. She was drifting in a pleasant little haze fueled by exhaustion and happiness, but the exhaustion was winning out. Yawning, she glanced at the clock on the dresser. “Ten o’clock already?”

  “Winslow and I better hit the road.”

  Jilly realized he was holding the jars of salsa as he stood up. “Go ahead, take those with you.” Hesitating, she listened to the silence, amping up her courage. “But…I have a favor to ask. And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t laugh.”

  “You need something? More blankets?”

  “Not that. I wondered if you would mind staying. Just for a little while. I…don’t sleep very well. It’s been going on for about a year now. If you and Winslow wouldn’t mind, maybe you could stretch out on the couch. Only until I fall asleep.”

  Walker didn’t move. “And you think our being here will help you sleep?” he said slowly.

  Jilly nodded. “Having you two around makes me feel calm. Safe somehow. Grounded, I guess.” She turned away, suddenly embarrassed. Why had she even brought this up? “It’s a stupid thing to ask. And you’re probably anxious to go. So never mind. You don’t have to—”

  “We’ll stay, Jilly.”

  “Really?” She was surprised by the wave of relief she felt. “I mean, you don’t have to if—”

  She felt his hand slide under her chin and tilt her face up gently. “Of course we can stay, Jilly. You caught me by surprise, that’s all.” His eyes narrowed. “You’ve been having trouble sleeping for over a year now? Why didn’t you do anything about it?”

  “I tried the usual. Exercise. Meditation. It didn’t help. After that came the prescriptions. But I didn’t want to go that route.”

  “Yeah, I hear you there. It’s got to be hard.” His voice turned gruff. “Okay. You go get into bed, and I’ll set the fire. Winslow and I will be right out here if you need us.”

  If you need us.

  It was the strangest thing. The idea of the two camped out on her couch made Jilly’s worries retreat. She yawned and headed off to put on her pajamas. “I really appreciate this,” she called over her shoulder. “In fact, it could earn you a year’s delivery of Jilly’s Naturals.”

  She heard Walker chuckle. Then she heard the rustle of his jeans when he stretched out on the couch near the fire. Wood creaked. There was a thud as his boots hit the floor. When she looked back, Jilly saw Winslow turn around in a little circle, sniff the air and jump up on the couch right next to Walker.

  As comfortable as if they had always been there. And in that moment the sense of peace that surrounded Jilly was heavy and warm.

  * * *

  JILLY FELL ASLEEP THE second her head hit the pillow. She fell into a golden dream of hot spices and elegant buttery French madeleine cookies. Winslow appeared, herding the dream cookies as if they were sheep. Suddenly the dog raced away, and Jilly heard a sound that might have been thunder or distant artillery fire. In her dream she felt the cold press of danger.

  A shadow fell. Winslow dropped the cookie at Walker’s feet, barking with excitement.

  The thunder turned into gunfire and the air took on a bitter stink of gunpowder. Jilly tried to call out to Winslow, but neither the dog nor the man heard. Jilly had a sudden, terrible intuition of danger.

  She heard a shattering explosion and ran toward Walker, tripping over boulders and bushes, afraid that she would be too late....

  * * *

  JILLY SHOT AWAKE, shuddering, her fingers digging at the blanket.

  Something was wrong.

  Fragments of her dream swirled through her mind. She remembered that Walker and Winslow were nearby, sleeping outside on the couch. Had something happened to them?

  She threw back the covers and lunged toward the living area.

  Flames danced in the fireplace, casting golden light over the deep red rug. Jilly made out a long shape stretched on her coach. Walker was asleep, and Winslow’s head was angled across his chest.

  No danger here.

  Jilly froze as Walker began to twist and mutter in his sleep. She didn’t move when he began to speak. Winslow made a low growl in the back of his throat and moved closer to Walker.

  “Have to move, Win.” Walker’s voice was low and raw. “A patrol over the ridge. Another one right behind us. We’ve got fifteen minutes. Twenty at most. Need more det cord.”

  He was still asleep, Jilly realized. And in his dreams, he was back in enemy terrain, reliving a mission with Winslow.

  And she relived it right along with him, watching the memories unfold. On the couch, Winslow looked up, as if waiting for her to do something important. Jilly pulled a bright Pendleton wool blanket from a nearby chair and gently draped it over Walker’s sleeping body.

  He didn’t seem to notice. He rolled onto one side, lying stiffly as if hiding. “Over there, Win. Can you see them? I make out sixteen,” he whispered. “More over that hill.”

  The big dog didn’t move. His posture was rigid and protective.

  What stories the dog could tell, Jilly thought. What terrible dangers had the two faced together?

  She had a sudden urge to lean down beside Walker and slide the dark hair off his forehead. She wanted to wake him gently and tell him he was safe now, and everything would be fine.

  She closed her eyes, listening to the hammer of her heart. She seemed to be standing in a stranger’s body, full of new and powerfully unsettling emotions. And because Jilly had grown up with so little control over her life, she was afraid to do the thing that she most wanted.

  She couldn’t stay. She couldn’t offer comfort. She didn’t know how.

  So she walked back to the safety of her bed, regretting it with every step.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  JILLY WOKE TO THE SOUND of a branch tapping on her window. She stretched slowly, lulled by the scent o
f wood smoke and clear mountain air.

  She glanced at the bedside clock and blinked in amazement. 6:05. Another decent night of sleep. Was this a product of the mountain air? Would it happen every night?

  But of course there could be another explanation.

  The Walker Effect.

  Jilly sat up in a rush, frowning. She wasn’t going to rely on Walker to relax. She couldn’t rely on anyone. She had her life under control, and it was going to stay that way.

  Peeking outside, she saw that the couch was empty. Walker’s boots and coat were gone. The sudden sense of disappointment left her irritated.

  So…

  What she needed was a distraction.

  It was too early to call her friends back in Oregon. And she figured they would be waiting to hear her fume and rant. Once it was a decent hour, she’d put them at ease. But first she wanted to check on the kitchen fire damage.

  Shivering, she pulled a pair of wristlets out of her tote bag, glad for Grace’s gift. In fact, wristlets seemed like a great idea for her first project here. Not that she was going to take any complicated classes. The last thing she needed was a demanding teacher to attack her knitting skills. Jilly figured the best idea was to find a pleasant knitter and ask for a little private help. She wanted to get something out of the week’s program. Just a few rows of garter or a simple scarf to show her friends when she went back to Oregon.

  Jilly frowned, hit with another idea. What about a blanket for Winslow? A thick, soft blanket to warm him and Walker during the long winter nights.

  The more she thought about it, the more Jilly liked the idea. First she’d have to pick out a pattern. Then yarn. And she didn’t have a clue about either.

  Jilly wished she had Grace or Caro or Olivia close by for guidance.

  She stretched and then padded across to the big picture window. There were no guests in evidence yet. Only one groundskeeper was at work, trimming hedges. Then Jilly saw movement on the big patio at the conference and classroom area. Someone in a resort uniform was standing on a chair, cleaning windows. As Jilly came closer, she shook her head in disbelief.

  Wasn’t that the owner of the resort? The gray-haired lady kept right on working, stopping occasionally to catch her breath. The sight of that frail body working so hard made Jilly feel ashamed. Her friends had given her a lovely gift of time to relax and all she had done was grumble. Meanwhile, Mamie Bridger was barreling right ahead, doing hard physical work like a person half her age.

  When Jilly crossed the patio, Mamie waved. There was dust on her face and her cheeks were bright with cold and exertion, but she smiled with pleasure when she saw Jilly. “You’re up early. I hope you slept well.”

  “Excellent. There’s something about this mountain air.” Jilly moved over to the table and picked up a cleaning rag. “Why don’t you let me do that?”

  “I wouldn’t hear of it. I’ve done this every week since the resort opened.”

  “I insist,” Jilly said firmly. She reached out a hand, waiting to help the woman back down to a seat.

  Mamie frowned. “I really don’t mind.”

  “I don’t mind cleaning, either. Just as long as it’s not my own apartment,” she said with a grin.

  “I’ll clean every window of the restaurant, but don’t ask me to do it at home, either.” Mamie slanted a measuring glance at Jilly as she climbed up onto the chair. “Red tells me I owe you a big debt of thanks, Ms. O’Hara. He said we were lucky you were there when the fire started yesterday. More people might have gotten hurt if you hadn’t been so quick and decisive with that pan lid.”

  “I’m sure Red would have thought of it, too. Any experienced cook knows that trick. But he was busy helping the staff. I hope everyone is okay?”

  “One worker has a bad burn, but she’ll come through fine. We’ll take care of her.” Mamie shook her head. “We should have checked the fire extinguishers more often. Now I’ve ordered inspections every week in the restaurant and in every building across the resort. Frames will be changed every year. This is never going to happen again,” Mamie said fiercely.

  “That’s what counts. By the way, Red is a spectacular cook. His chili last night was amazing.” Jilly kept scrubbing at a greasy spot near one edge of the window. When Mamie didn’t answer, Jilly turned around. She was startled to see the petite woman slumped over, one hand pressed to her stomach.

  Jilly dropped her rag and darted toward Mamie, taking the old woman’s hand. “What’s wrong? Should I call Red or one of the staff?”

  The elderly woman took a raw breath and straightened slowly. “No you should not. I’ll be fine in a minute. I won’t have everyone fussing over me. It’s just a pain in the ribs. I did a little too much cleaning out here.”

  Jilly studied the woman’s pale face with concern. “Are you sure? You want me to get you some water? A blanket?”

  Mamie shook her head. “No need to fuss. While I catch my breath, why don’t you sit down here and tell me about yourself? Red has been singing the praises of your salsa line for months, so I tried some. Great stuff. You must be an excellent knitter as well as a cook.”

  Jilly snorted. “Not even close. But my friends keep hoping I’ll improve. The problem is, I have no patience. I drop stitches. I twist the yarn the wrong way. My rows are crooked because my tension is all over the place. I’m hopeless.”

  Mamie stared thoughtfully at the sun rising over the distant peaks. “I tried to knit once. It was a disaster. I’ve never been much good in the patience department, either.” She raised an eyebrow, looking at Jilly. “I guess that gives us something in common. And since I owe you for your quick thinking in the kitchen, why don’t I have Red make you one of his finest breakfasts? He’s been nagging me to come down, too. Maybe this morning he’ll get his wish.”

  Jilly frowned. “Are you sure you feel up to this, Mamie?”

  “I’ll have all the time I need to rest soon enough.” Mamie stood up slowly and took Jilly’s arm for support. “In the past few years I’ve lost too many of the things I love. I’ve lost friends. I lost my beloved husband, Jack. Now I’m losing my sight.” She gave a husky laugh. “I haven’t told anyone else about that. Growing old takes guts, honey.” Mamie studied the broad patio, smiling with pride. “But all that loss has given me something priceless.” Her frail hands tightened on Jilly’s arm. “I’ve learned to live in the time that I have and make every minute count. I’m only sorry it took me this long. So if I want to ask a brave and very helpful guest to breakfast, that’s my right, isn’t it?” Her piercing blue eyes narrowed with mischief. “You wouldn’t disoblige an old woman, would you? Especially one who asks too many personal questions?”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  Mamie nodded. “That’s the right answer. Now let’s go find you a warm coat. I can see you’re shivering. You’re not used to our temperature changes up here in the mountains. You probably didn’t pack a jacket.”

  “My friends packed for me. They seem to have omitted that. At least they remembered the junk food. God bless them for that.”

  “Something else we have in common.” Mamie waved to two staff members who opened the big wooden doors. “While we eat, maybe you can tell me what miracle you worked with my grandson. He swears your coffee can make a stone weep. I wouldn’t know, since I had to give up coffee last year.” Mamie tapped a finger against her chest. “Heart problems, but I’m holding my own. There are too many things I need to finish before I die. So I do what my doctors tell me, even if I don’t like it. A healthy young woman like you wouldn’t know anything about that.”

  Jilly started to answer that Mamie was wrong, but the frail old woman plunged right on. “That’s the way it should be. Enjoy your life, Jilly. Don’t waste a single moment.” The woman’s voice tightened. “Not for pride. Not for ego. Not even for stupidity. It’s a terrible waste of time. Now I’m done being a busybody.” She smiled as Red appeared at the door.

  “Mamie, what are you doing up he
re? Did you need something?”

  “A good breakfast, for a start. You’ve been nagging me to come for a month, so here I am. And I brought a friend. I think we’ll take that nice little table at the back with the view of the stream where Jack and I built our first cabin. I think Jilly would like that.” The old woman shot a look at Red. “Walker uses the cabin when he’s helping us here at the resort. He’s completely gutted the inside. New floors, new beams, everything. He’s very skillful, that young man.” Mamie frowned. “I think he needed to work with his hands after he came back from Afghanistan. He never speaks about it, even now.” Mamie shook her head. “But enough of that. I’m hungry, Red. Let’s eat.”

  * * *

  MAMIE KEPT UP A STEADY stream of stories about the resort while they finished off a southwestern breakfast and Mexican-style hot chocolate flavored with cinnamon. For a small woman, Mamie had quite an appetite. Or maybe the explanation was that Mamie hadn’t been eating enough for quite a long time.

  Jilly was glad that she was eating now. A steady stream of resort staff stopped by to say hello to her.

  It felt like a big extended family, except Jilly really didn’t know what a family felt like. She felt the calm and peace, and that was enough. This was the mood she wanted to create at Harbor House back home in Oregon. She wanted grandparents, parents and their children to come back year after year, warmed by memories of chintz-covered chairs, unforgettable pastries and quiet sunny days on the beach.

  Mamie had had that vision for her resort years before.

  Jilly understood completely.

  She turned around as Red brought another basket filled with freshly baked bread. “Not for me. I’m stuffed. It was wonderful, Red. I’m glad to see that you have everything cleaned up. I don’t see a single sign of a fire. How did you manage that?”

  “I borrowed a new piece of equipment from a friend in Denver. He drove it up himself last night. It’s a special kind of machine that uses ozone to cut through odors from grease, smoke or mold. Amazing.” He handed Mamie another chocolate-chip muffin and then refilled the women’s cups with hot chocolate. “I better get going. There’s an army of hungry knitters anxious to eat before their classes start.” Red glanced at Jilly. “Say, aren’t you supposed to be in one of those classes?”