Walker sighed, and some of the fury seeped out of him. “I’ve got to change brands,” he said.
That was when Casey laughed, though her eyes were still shooting green sparks and he knew he wasn’t out of the figurative woods. Before he’d registered that she was amused, she turned again. “You weren’t going to tell me?” she demanded.
He didn’t have an answer.
And Casey didn’t wait for one. “It’ll be a marriage in name only, of course,” she mused. “Just on paper.”
Walker gaped for a moment, then rasped, “What?”
“We have to do this, Walker,” Casey said, serious as a foreclosure notice now. “For Clare and Shane.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
STRANGE, CASEY THOUGHT WEARILY, how everything could change without anything really being different. Sitting alone in the same wooden swing where Clare had taken refuge, barely a week before, on the porch of the house at Timber Creek Ranch, she went over it all in her mind—again.
Walker had been understandably shocked by her proposal of marriage, but once she’d explained her reasoning, he’d grudgingly agreed. When the story broke, it would reach far beyond the borders of Parable County, and Clare and Shane would take the brunt of it, become the objects of tabloid headlines, the fodder for snide hosts on gossip TV, the prey of intrusive photographers and creeps who billed themselves as journalists.
A wedding wouldn’t prevent that, of course, but both Casey and Walker were old-fashioned enough to believe that living under the same roof, as a family, would shelter their children from at least some of the fallout, and they couldn’t live together without being legally married. Which was where the old-fashioned part came in.
So they’d quietly—very quietly—filed for a marriage license, not in Parable, the county seat, but in Missoula. Now the brief waiting period was over, and Opal’s fiancé, the good Reverend Beaumont, had agreed to perform a simple ceremony in the ranch house living room, with Brylee, the kids and Opal in attendance. The hands and their families would be there, of course, along with very close friends.
It wouldn’t be the wedding every girl dreams of, Casey reflected philosophically, sitting there in her simple blue sheath and sandals, but white lace and organ music and a fancy cake hadn’t been in the cards for her and Walker anyway. Too much water under the bridge, as the old saying went, trite only because it had been true for so long. Besides, this wasn’t exactly a love match—they both loved their children, no doubt about it, but the sad fact was, she and Walker didn’t get along anywhere but in bed.
And that, by tacit agreement, was a place they’d been steering clear of since the last time.
The screen door opened just then, and Clare came out of the kitchen, looking pretty in a green sundress, with her hair tumbling around her shoulders in lovely spirals. She hadn’t forgiven Casey for the deception yet, or Walker, either, for that matter, but she’d stopped pouting, slamming doors and hiding out in her room, anyway.
Sitting on the opposite end of the swing from Casey, Clare smoothed her skirt, bit her lower lip and said her piece, probably after much rehearsal.
“I know you don’t really want to marry Walker, Mom. This whole thing is a sham—it’s damage control.”
Unlike her brother, who was thrilled about the marriage and already called Walker “Dad,” Clare had shown a definite lack of enthusiasm from the first, and when she spoke to her father, which wasn’t often, she still addressed him by his first name.
“We’re doing what we think is best,” Casey said calmly.
Clare had the good grace not to throw the big lie in her face, and Casey dared to hope she and her daughter would find common ground again soon. “What if it doesn’t work?” she asked. “I mean, you’ll probably throw the media off the trail, mostly anyway, but suppose you and Walker find out you can’t live together and end up getting divorced? What do you think that would do to Shane?”
Casey had asked herself all the same questions. It was true enough that the scandal, just now starting to break online and in a few of the tabloids, would flare up, marriage or no marriage. And, thank heaven, it would fade into oblivion when a juicier story came along.
The deeper scars would remain, though. After the media circus moved on and set up their tents somewhere else, Clare and Shane would still be wondering what their friends thought, what it all meant. Their confidence in Casey, always rock solid before, might never be the same again.
“Whatever happens in the future,” she replied carefully, “it’s right now that’s important. You and Shane will be legitimate, whether Walker and I stay married or not.”
“‘Legitimate’?” Clare echoed. She wasn’t scoffing, but there was a jaded note in her voice just the same. “Please, Mom. That’s so Victorian. This is the twenty-first century, and lots of kids’ mothers aren’t married to their dads.”
Casey bristled a little. “Maybe so,” she replied, “but that doesn’t make it an ideal situation, not by any stretch. Two-parent families might not be as common as they used to be, and God knows, they’re not perfect, but they’re worth having, Clare. They’re worth holding on to, worth fighting for.”
“Why now?” Clare persisted, sounding honestly puzzled. “After all this time, I mean? In a few years, Shane and I will be grown up and away at college. What will it matter then if you and Walker are married?”
“It matters,” Casey insisted quietly. “Someday, I hope you’ll understand why.”
And I hope I’ll understand, too. Parts of the decision were still a mystery to her, and she suspected it was the same for Walker.
A short silence fell. In the near distance, horses whinnied and bulls snorted, pawing the ground and kicking up dust in their sturdy pens. There was a certain peace in the rustic ordinariness of it all, and Casey clung to that, like a blind person clutching a fragile thread that might just lead her into the light, if she could just hold on.
Clare’s next remark was a humdinger.
She stood up, sighed a worldly sigh and said, without a hint of sarcasm, “I’ll bet the real reason you and Walker are getting married is because you have to. Are you going to have a baby, Mom?”
Casey stiffened as though her daughter had just flung a bucket of cold water on her, and not just because the question caught her off guard. She might well be pregnant, given her and Walker’s track record—and the broken condom. Neither of which she intended to discuss with her fourteen-year-old daughter, thank you very much, either now or in the foreseeable future.
“Your mother,” Casey told the girl evenly, “is marrying your father. For now, that’s all you need to know.”
Clare spread her hands in a gesture of helpless resignation.
A string of cars and pickup trucks slowed down on the county road, the first of them turning in at the main gate. The wedding guests were arriving. There weren’t many of them, only their closest friends.
“If there is a baby,” Clare said, very softly, and with a note of wistfulness that bruised Casey’s heart, “he or she is one lucky kid to be born with both a mom and a dad, and grow up here, on this ranch.” With that, Clare vanished into the house.
Casey stood, but only after a few moments had passed and she was sure she could trust her wobbly knees to hold her up. At any other time, she would have caught up with Clare, tried to reach the girl with words or hugs—or something.
But, like it or not, that conversation would have to wait. There was a wedding in the offing, and the guests were here.
The various vehicles reached the top of the driveway, one by one, and people in dress clothes got out—Opal and the Reverend Walter Beaumont were the first, soon followed by Joslyn and Slade Barlow, Boone and Tara Taylor and Hutch and Kendra Carmody. Patsy McCullough brought up the rear, at the wheel of a specially equipped van, her son Dawson riding with her.
Only Hutch looked uncomfortable, and that wasn’t surprising, considering that Timber Creek Ranch was Brylee’s home as well as Walker’s. Hutch and Brylee
had come within an I-do of getting married themselves, a couple of years before, and accounts of the interrupted ceremony still surfaced occasionally, when there was a lack of fresh gossip.
Brylee was inside somewhere, probably as nervous as Hutch, but this was one wedding she wouldn’t dodge, since the groom was her brother.
Casey welcomed everyone with a smile and a hug, especially Joslyn and Tara and Kendra, her closest friends, while Slade and Hutch stayed behind to help Patsy with Dawson and his wheelchair.
“When’s that baby coming?” Casey asked Joslyn in a whisper after the crowd had come inside the house and moved on toward the living room, where the ceremony was to be held. Kendra lingered with them, smiling.
Joslyn sighed happily, resting her hands on her enormous belly. “Babies,” she corrected, sotto voce. “We’re having twins. Both boys.”
Casey hugged her again. “That’s great!”
Joslyn nodded, beaming.
“Are you ready to get married?” Kendra asked Casey, looking as pleased as if this wedding were the real deal, instead of a public-relations move and a too-little, too-late attempt to set a few things right.
“About as ready as I’m ever going to be, I guess,” Casey responded. Very few people knew the truth, but Joslyn, Kendra and Tara were among them, and not one of them had tried to talk her out of it. In fact, they actually seemed happy for her and Walker.
They were so certain things would work out. Casey herself, not so much. All she could do was try her hardest, dig in her heels and refuse to give up.
“What about a honeymoon?” Joslyn asked.
Casey kept her expression bland, because there were some things she wasn’t ready to reveal, even to her best friends. Such as, there wasn’t going to be a wedding night, let alone a honeymoon. “That’s a secret,” she said mysteriously.
Joslyn and Kendra exchanged glances, then proceeded into the living room, to seat themselves on rented folding chairs. Their husbands soon joined them.
Casey waited in the kitchen, wringing her hands a little, until Shane was beside her. Handsome in his best suit, which he was about to grow out of, he jutted out an elbow. “Showtime, Mom,” he whispered, grinning. “Ready to be given away?”
A lump formed in Casey’s throat. She smiled and brushed a lock of hair back from Shane’s forehead, a gesture he normally wouldn’t have appreciated. “Ready,” she managed.
Shane escorted his mother out of the kitchen, through the formal dining area and into the wide, arched doorway leading to the living room, where they stopped.
Walker and Reverend Beaumont stood in front of the flower-festooned fireplace, Walker looking dazed, the minister all smiles.
The folding chairs were filled, and Opal had taken her place at the piano, her fingers poised to play the customary processional.
A hush fell over the gathering, and Joslyn, Kendra and Tara all turned in their seats simultaneously and gave Casey a perfectly synchronized thumbs-up.
Brylee, the only bridesmaid, stood up front, a little to the minster’s right, smiling encouragement at Casey and Shane.
Careful not to look too closely at Walker—no getting around it, he was one handsome hunk of cowboy—Casey swept one last glance around the room, her heart pounding a little, looking for Clare, praying her daughter hadn’t decided to hide out somewhere until the “sham” was over.
But Clare was made of better stuff than that. Whatever her misgivings, she walked, head high, into the living room through another archway, and stood next to Opal, by the baby grand piano. Tears stung the backs of Casey’s eyes as she realized the implications of that.
Clare, who never sang in public, was going to sing today. It was her gift to Casey and to Walker.
Opal began to play.
Casey froze, and Shane had to give her a little tug to get her moving, between the rows of folding chairs and up to Walker’s side.
Walker looked down at Casey, his eyes shining, and the smallest smile crooked the corner of his mouth.
The piano went still, then started right up again.
Casey and Walker both turned to watch as Clare began her solo, a song Casey had written long ago, as a sort of lullaby for her children. Though it was about the forever kind of love, and not about sleeping, she’d sung those words to Clare and Shane a thousand times, on buses and airplanes and in backstage dressing rooms, always at bedtime.
Now, listening to Clare’s beautiful voice, Casey thought she might just burst with love and pride, and she knew, after a sidelong glance his way, that Walker was feeling pretty much the same.
When the song ended, Clare took her place up front, next to Brylee, and Brylee wrapped an arm around her niece, gave her a squeeze and whispered something to her.
Casey felt an achy surge of love for both of them.
Everything after that seemed to happen in slow motion, in the midst of a silvery haze.
Reverend Beaumont made a little speech laced with Bible references but otherwise a blur, as far as Casey was concerned.
The usual questions were asked.
The usual vows were exchanged.
It never crossed Casey’s mind to say anything but the expected “I wills” and “I dos,” and Walker didn’t hesitate, either. They slid matching gold bands onto each other’s ring fingers when prompted.
And then the minister pronounced them man and wife, and Walker, eyes twinkling, pulled Casey close and kissed her soundly—so soundly that, if he hadn’t been holding her firmly by the waist, her knees might have buckled.
The guests cheered, and Shane, in a momentary lapse of preteen dignity, jumped high in the air, jamming one fist toward the ceiling, and yelled, “Yes!”
That made everybody laugh, including Casey, though she still felt like an actress, playing a part in a made-for-TV movie. Nothing seemed real—except for the echo of Walker’s kiss, that is. Her mouth tingled at the recollection, and for a very long time afterward, even as the time-honored rituals continued.
Casey and Walker posed for photographs, endlessly, it seemed to her.
They cut the impressive cake Brylee had stayed up half the night to bake and decorate, and congratulations came from all sides. There was a group phone call from the guys in the band, all of them talking at once and finally coming together to sing a rowdy song that made Casey laugh and cry at the same time.
Even Mitch, who hadn’t been in contact since he’d left Casey’s place in a huff after she’d turned down his proposal, sent a short video, via Shane’s cell, wishing the newlyweds well.
Casey was both pleased and touched, knowing Mitch’s pride would have made the gesture difficult for him, to say the least. In a few days, she’d call her manager back and try to smooth things over. They’d been over bumpy ground before—Mitch periodically threatened to resign and then changed his mind later—and Casey genuinely hoped this time would be no different from the others.
After the refreshments, the hugs and handshakes and digital photos, guests began to leave, a few at a time.
Dawson McCullough, dressed up in a suit, wheeled over to Casey and Walker and, with a big smile, congratulated them. Patsy, hovering behind his chair, said nothing, but added a shy nod of agreement. Walker and Shane followed them out, to help Dawson into the van and stow the wheelchair in back.
Glancing around, still trying to come to terms with the incomprehensible fact that she and Walker were really and truly married, Casey spotted Hutch and Brylee standing near the piano, talking earnestly.
Kendra appeared at Casey’s side, watching the exchange with quiet approval.
“What’s that about?” Casey asked, worried. When it came to Hutch Carmody, her otherwise amenable sister-in-law was notoriously stubborn and prone to making scenes.
Kendra took a sip of punch from the crystal glass she held in her right hand. Swallowed. “Some fence mending, I hope,” she replied. “Hutch never wanted to hurt Brylee, and we’ve all been worried about her.” A pause, during which Kendra’s perfec
t eyebrows drew closer together for a moment in apparent consternation. “Plus, it’s awkward. You and Joslyn and Tara and I are all friends, and now you’re married to Walker, which means we’ll all be running into each other even more often than before. Unless we all want to walk on eggshells forever, somebody had to do something.”
“You know what?” Casey said, touching her friend’s arm. “You’re amazing. A lot of women in your place wouldn’t be so open-minded. Some of them might even be jealous.”
Kendra smiled, serene as a Christmas-card Madonna. “There are a lot of uncertainties in this world,” she responded, “but there’s one thing I’m definitely sure of. Hutch Carmody loves me as much as I love him, and that isn’t going to change.”
Casey swallowed as, once again, the backs of her eyes stung with tears she wasn’t about to shed. What would it be like, she wondered, to love a man like that, and be loved the same way in return? Kendra knew. So did Tara and Joslyn. Would it ever be that way for her?
Presently, Hutch left Brylee’s side and came to collect Kendra. He kissed Casey’s cheek, congratulated her one more time, and they left.
Casey waited a few beats, then made her way through the dwindling crowd to Brylee’s side.
She was standing with her back to the room by then, gazing out the picture window toward the green hills, and Casey, looking at her sister-in-law in profile, saw a single tear slip down Brylee’s cheek.
“I’m here,” Casey said gently. Sometimes, that was all one person could offer another, just their presence.
“Thank you,” Brylee answered with a sniffle. “I’ve been such a fool,” she added softly, a few moments later.
“What do you mean?” Casey asked, frowning a little. Love was love, and even when it didn’t end with happily-ever-after, it was nothing to be ashamed of.
Brylee surprised her then, turning her head to bestow a wide, watery smile. She seemed illuminated from the inside. “Hutch always said I was in love with love, not with him, and, finally, I believe him.”
“He must have said something pretty special just now,” Casey speculated.
Parable, Montana [4] Big Sky Summer Page 17