Second Harmony

by Barbara Bretton

  "Go ahead," she said. "Try to scare me off."

  "Then this is it, Sandra Patterson. I love you. I've always loved you. I'll love you in this life and beyond. Elinor is part of my family and being part of her family is one of the best things to ever happen to me and to my son." He kissed her, long and deep, and the last of her doubts vanished. "Understand?"

  She looked up at him. "No more courtship?"

  "Over."

  "Want to set a date?" she asked.

  "How about tonight?"

  She grinned. "How about the spring?"

  "Thanksgiving."

  "Christmas."

  "December 2." His tone brooked no argument. "That's it."

  "December 2," she said with a mock groan. The truth was her entire body had suddenly come alive with excitement. "I'll barely have time to put together a trousseau."

  His grin was wicked. "You won't need one."

  "I'll never find a wedding gown in time."

  "You will," he said.

  "That sure of yourself?"

  "That sure of us."

  "You win," she said, willingly giving herself over to the inevitability of love. "December 2."

  Michael's kiss only sealed a bargain that had been made a long, long time ago by two kids who hadn't known much, but had known the real thing when they found it.

  Behind them, Elinor, Lucie and Larry burst into cheers

  "Mom," Sandra said finally, still wrapped in Michael's embrace, "let me tell you all about your new grandson."

  December 2 couldn't come fast enough for her.

  ~~

  Epilogue~~

  "Quit pacing, McKay!" Jim Flannery's voice echoed in the small anteroom. "You're wearing a hole in Father Anthony's carpet."

  Michael cadged a Marlboro from his best man, took a drag, then stubbed it out in the marble ashtray on the mantel. "Gimme a break, Flannery. It's my wedding day. Pacing's my God-given right."

  "You've got your chronology skewed, friend. Pacing's reserved for the delivery room, not the altar." A wide grin split his ruddy face. "Unless . . . "

  Michael laughed for the first time since the wedding-day jitters had attacked him at dawn.

  "Don't say it, friend. We haven't even had our honeymoon yet."

  Jim straightened his bow tie and adjusted his boutonniere. "That boy of yours has been telling my Amy that he's going to have a little brother by the end of the year."

  "I'm going to have to have a talk with that kid," Michael muttered.

  "Gentlemen." Father Anthony appeared in the doorway, resplendent in his ecclesiastical robes. "The bride has arrived and we are about to begin."

  Michael tugged at the jacket of his tux and took a deep breath.

  "Nervous?" Jim asked.

  He nodded.

  "Second thoughts?"

  "Only one," he said. "Why did it take us so damn long."

  #

  The inside of the Cathedral of St. Matthew the Divine looked like something out of a fairy tale.

  Early December sunshine poured in through the huge stained-glass windows, spilling pools of ruby and emerald and topaz light across the marble steps that led to the altar.

  Music, joyful and triumphant, rose up to the vaulted ceiling and swooped down again. Huge arrangements of white daisies and yellow roses lined the sides of the altar, and masses of red tulips stood proudly near the pulpit.

  Leon, nattily dressed in tails and high-tops, was serving as official wedding photographer and he was perched to the right of the vestibule, ready to capture the action.

  If it ever got started.

  Finally the familiar strains of the "Wedding March" filled the space.

  Annie Gage, beautiful in a dress of watered silk the color of fine brandy, winked at Sandra, then began the long glide down the aisle to the accompaniment of Leon's clicking camera.

  Right on cue, Sandra's hands started to shake.

  "What's this, Patterson? Nerves at this late date?" Ed Gregory, who had finally adjusted himself to her changed priorities, looked over at her with a wry smile. "It's not too late," he said, gesturing toward the door. "There's a limo warming up at the curb. We could be in the Bahamas before they knew what hit them."

  "No good," Ed," she said as Leon got ready to snap his first photo of the bride. "I'm going to the Bahamas, all right, but on my honeymoon."

  Ed winced, and she slipped her arm through his for the procession to the altar. "Be happy, Patterson. Get that right and we'll figure out the rest as we go."

  She flashed him one of her newly acquired serene smiles, the ones that drove him crazy. It had been a long and rocky road to get Ed Gregory to accept the fact that she wanted, needed, more from life than balanced ledger sheets and promotions, but he'd finally accepted the inevitable.

  The fact that he was giving her away today in marriage was testament to their long-standing friendship.

  Not to mention the fact that she'd noticed a few sparks flying between him and Annie Gage. Wouldn't that be an interesting combination? Now that his Geneva transfer was postponed, maybe when she and Michael came back they could play matchmaker.

  Mrs. Elston, the lady from the flower shop, gave a final tug on the ribbons on Sandra's bouquet, then nodded.

  "Off you go," she said, casting a cautionary look Ed's way. "And remember, this isn't a sixty-yard dash. Slow and steady. Slow and steady."

  Sandra straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. A huge smile spread across her face as she and Ed stepped from the vestibule into the church proper to a chorus of "oohs" and "aahs" from the assembled guests.

  The cathedral was built on a grand scale, and the walk down the aisle seemed to last forever.

  Sandra loved every moment of it.

  She loved the blur of faces as old friends and new waved at her from pews at either side of the center aisle. She loved the unfamiliar weight of the crown of flowers atop her head, the soft swish of the veil each time she turned her head.

  All the sweet and silly daydreams girls have about their weddings blossomed around Sandra Patterson three months shy of her thirty-sixth birthday.

  Except none of them were daydreams.

  It was real.

  It was happening.

  Standing at the foot of the altar, tall and splendid in his black tux, was Michael McKay.

  Her Michael.

  The man she'd always loved, the man she would love into eternity.

  Another twenty feet, and Ed would put her hand into Michael's, the symbolic passing of allegiance from one family to another, although it wasn't really that.

  She saw it more as a joining together, a blending of all that belonged to him with all that belonged to her, forming a family that was strong for it.

  And she had one person to thank.

  There, in the front row on the bride's side, sat her mother and Lucie. Lucie was dressed in a powder-blue wool suit and matching hat, and she was blubbering into a lace handkerchief that wouldn't last through the ceremony.

  Elinor's wheelchair had been pushed into a corner of the church and she sat straight and proud without support. She wore a silk dress the color of the inside of an oyster shell, and her eyes shone with a joy matched only by the joy in Sandra's own heart.

  Although Miss Manners might not have approved, Sandra knew there was time for one unscheduled stop.

  She bent down and embraced her mother, sweet, warm tears wetting her cheeks and falling on the lace of her gown.

  "I love you," she whispered in Elinor's ear. "Thank you for everything."

  Suddenly she felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up into the dark eyes of Michael McKay. He bent down and embraced Elinor, and said something low that made her mother smile.

  The he straightened up and took her hand.

  Come on, Sandy," he said. "It's time."

  #

  "I now pronounce you man and wife." Father Anthony's smile was wider than the sky outside. "What are you waiting for, Michael? You may now kiss your bride."
>
  As Michael's lips met hers, Sandra's heart soared up to the top of that vaulted cathedral, and all the colors of the rainbow exploded inside her soul.

  The church erupted into cheers and laughter and the thrilling sounds of the recessional. Michael went to draw her into his arms for one last kiss to seal their sacred promise when she saw David, beaming in a way only a five-year-old can beam, standing next to Jim Flannery.

  His little body was straight and proud in his tiny black suit, his blond hair slicked back off his forehead except for one unruly lock that kept slipping over his right eyebrow.

  He was the image of his father thirty years ago.

  And now he was her son.

  She turned and spread her arms open wide. David looked at her, then his smile grew even broader as he tore across the altar and disappeared inside her hug.

  Michael, his eyes suspiciously bright, swept their son onto his shoulder.

  "Come on," he said, taking her hand. "It's time for this family to start celebrating."

  "Yes," she said, giving herself up to the joy of love. "It's time this family got started."

  The McKays turned and walked out of the church.

  Together.

  ~~end of Second Harmony~~

  Please scroll down to read a letter from Barbara Bretton

  and to enjoy excerpts from other titles the author

  Author's Note

  Readers are everything.

  Seeing your name in print is terrific. Good reviews put a smile on an author's face.

  Royalties help keep the wolf from the door. But the absolute best thing about being a writer is being read.

  Knowing that your words are making someone you're not even related to happy. Knowing that your story is helping to make a bad day better for a stranger who needed to escape for a few hours. Knowing that the imaginary friends you've spent the last few months with are out there in the world becoming just as real to a reader you'll never meet but know and love just the same.

  See what I mean?

  Readers are everything.

  So this one is for the wonderful readers (and knitters) who have taken time over the last few years to let me know how much they enjoy my books.

  Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

  And if you're new to my work, welcome. I hope you'll check out these other titles and excerpts and let me know what you think. You can always reach me on Facebook or Twitter, or directly at barbara@barbarabretton.com or barbarabretton@gmail.com

  Happy reading!

  Barbara Bretton

  Scroll down for excerpts

  A Soft Place to Fall – contemporary romance

  A Shelter Rock Cove book

  The first time they met, his dog trashed her car.

  The second time they met, she set fire to her bathroom.

  The third time they met, they fell in love.

  Annie Galloway isn't looking to fall in love again. Sam Butler doesn't want a home and family of his own.

  Too bad fate has other plans . . .

  From Booklist

  It's been two years since Annie Galloway's husband died, and she is finally putting her life back together, even though she stays in Shelter Rock Cove, Maine. Annie has never lived anywhere else, and her life is tied to the small community, which is a blessing and a curse. Her mother-in-law took her in at sixteen when her parents died, and she feels grateful for her love, but her husband was not the saint that everyone thinks he was. When she meets Sam Butler, a Manhattan investment broker hiding out in the small town and reevaluating his life, they instantly connect, but some townspeople are suspicious of the newcomer and his relationship with Annie. Sam and Annie do keep secrets from each other, hoping to keep their newfound love separate from the past, but prying neighbors may tear them apart. Once again Bretton creates a tender love story about two people who, when they find something special, will go to any length to keep it.

  Patty Engelmann Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved

  #

  ~~Chapter One~~

  They saved the bed for last.

  Annie Lacy Galloway stood at the bottom of the stairs and watched as the two impossibly skinny young men maneuvered the huge sleigh bed through the narrow upstairs hallway. She winced at the sound of wood scraping against wallpaper. She knew it would be a tight fit but she hadn't let herself consider that it might be impossible.

  The moving boys paused at the top of the stairs and considered their options.

  "How'd you ever get this up here anyway, Mrs. G?" Michael, the one whose voice still hadn't made up its mind between soprano and tenor, called down to her. "This is like shoving an elephant through a keyhole."

  She'd found it at a yard sale six months after Kevin died, a wreckage of wood that looked much the way she'd felt inside. "I feel bad taking your money for this," the man had said as they loaded the pieces into the back of her Jeep. She spent weeks sanding the elegant curves and flat planes, stripping away years of neglect and damage, not even sure if the pieces could ever be put back together again into a recognizable whole. It still wasn't finished yet. Come spring, she intended to stain the sanded wood a deep cherry wood then coat the whole thing with a satiny finish that would grow more lustrous with the years.

  "Turn it toward the window," she said. "Once you clear the top of the railing, you'll have it made."

  Danny, her nephew by marriage, crouched down near the foot of the bed. "It comes apart," he said, fingering the supports. "Maybe we could --"

  "No!" Annie forced her voice down to a more acceptable volume. The poor boys looked downright scared. "I mean, feel free to remove the stair rails, if you have to, but please don't touch the bed."

  "You're the boss, Mrs. G," Michael said.

  She turned in time to see a third moving boy grab for the cardboard box near the front door. The box marked "Fragile."

  "Not that one." Annie raced back downstairs. "I'm taking that one in the car with me."

  "You sure?" Scotty had been Kevin's top student, the one who was on his way toward bigger and better things. He was smart and funny and built like a two-by-four, all straight edges and long lines. Scotty nailed the Bancroft Scholarship, Kevin. You would've been so proud of him. Years ago, she had been the one with the Bancroft and the big dreams of studying art one day in New York. It seemed so long ago, almost as if those dreams had belonged to somebody else. The sight of the young man in her foyer awoke so many memories of Christmas parties and summer barbecues when they had opened up the house to students and their parents. Kevin loved those parties, loved being at the center of all the activity, laughing and joking and --

  "There's plenty of room in the truck, Mrs. G."

  "That's okay, Scotty," she said, wondering when he had started shaving. Wasn't it just yesterday that he was raking their lawn for two bucks an hour? "I'll take it over in my car." Her life was tucked away in that box: old love letters, wedding photos, newspaper clippings, and sympathy notes. The sum total of her thirty-eight years on the planet with room left over for her best wineglasses and her journals.

  He pointed toward a box resting near the piano. "How about that one?"

  Annie grinned. "Be my guest."

  He hoisted it on his shoulder with a theatrical grunt. "See you at the new house."

  "The new house." Claudia Galloway appeared in the doorway to the living room. She dabbed at her eyes with a linen handkerchief, one of those flimsy bits with the hand-crocheted edging that were her trademark. "It's not too late to change your mind, Anne."

  Annie thrust her clenched fists deep into the pockets of her bright red sweater. "Claudia, we've gone over this before. I --"

  "This is your home," her former mother-in-law broke in. "This is where you spent your entire married life. My God, you're even sold most of your furniture. How can you turn your back on everything Kevin meant to you?"

  "I don't need this house to remind me of all that Kevin meant to me."

  "Is she at it
again?" Susan, Claudia's oldest daughter, poked her head in the front door. "Ma, you already built a shrine to Kevin. Annie doesn't need to build one too."

  Annie shot her best friend a look of pure gratitude. I owe you big time, Susie. Godiva, if I could afford it, or Dom Perignon. "Are they finished in the garage?"

  "The place is stripped bare as chicken bones after a barbecue."

  "Really, Susan." Claudia frowned at her daughter. "A bit less colorful language, if you please."

  "Mother, I sell real estate for a living. I am a master of the colorful metaphor."

  "I could do with a tad less sarcasm as well."

  "Coming through!" Michael and Danny had found a way to maneuver Annie's sleigh bed downstairs without major architectural damage and had it aimed at the front door.

  "That ridiculous bed," Claudia murmured as she stepped aside. "Really, Annie. I don't know what you were thinking."

  I wasn't thinking, Claudia. You've been there. Don't you remember how it was? I hurt too much that first year to think of anything at all.

  "Mother," said Susan, "why don't you go have lunch with Jack and the boys. I know you love the chicken sandwich at Wendy's. We'll see you later at the new house."

  Claudia looked from Annie to her daughter and in that instant Annie regretted all the sharp words she had bitten back. She was family to Claudia, same as any of the children of her body, and that gave her the right to annoy the daylights out of Annie. Suddenly her redoubtable mother-in-law looked small and old and vulnerable and Annie's heart twisted in sympathy. She loved Claudia dearly even if sometimes she wished for a bit more breathing room.

  "I have a better idea," Annie said, putting an arm around Claudia's fragile shoulders. "Why don't both of you have lunch with Jack and the boys and we'll meet up at the house."

  "We can't leave you alone," Claudia said and for once Susan agreed with her mother.

  "Sure you can." Annie started moving them toward the door. "I'll be fine. I promise."