by Laura Moore
The wood laminate dance floor was folded in the center of the tent. In the afternoon, when the tables were set, the floor would be carried outside, and torches and more tables would be arranged for the evening’s celebration. According to the forecast, the glorious California weather would hold. Carrie and Brian would get their night of dancing beneath a full moon and a star-studded sky.
Then, after Carrie and Brian had mingled with their friends and family and had danced their fill, they would slip back to their cabin that Tess and Anita, the head housekeeper, would have transformed into a romantic bower.
Once again, Tess glanced down at her clipboard. She flipped to the fourth page and made sure she had champagne and chocolate-dipped strawberries marked down. She’d scribbled so many notes to herself that there were moments when she couldn’t sort out what she’d written from what she’d intended to write.
Yup, she thought with relief. She hadn’t lost her mind yet. The champagne and strawberries were noted and at the ready. Roo had the strawberries waiting on a tray in the refrigerator. She’d even written down that Jeff was making a few special sandwiches for the newlyweds—in case they got hungry after celebrating in private.
She left the tent and walked to where Carrie and Brian would exchange their vows with the minister, Reverend Williams, the three of them standing in front of a large dogwood tree covered in pale creamy pink flowers. White bamboo chairs were already arranged in a semicircle, with a wide aisle down the center where Carrie would walk on the arm of her father to meet her future husband.
Looking at the scene made Tess’s stomach flutter with nerves. She wanted everything to go right for them. Not just today, but for all their days together.
Despite her nervousness, Tess was happy as well. The event she’d been planning for months was nearing its most beautiful and important moment, when Brian and Carrie would pledge their love and devotion to each other.
Whatever reservations she’d had back in February about planning a wedding had vanished. Tess realized how lucky she was to have been able to organize such an important and special ceremony for a couple she believed was truly in love and deeply committed to each other. Once it was over she’d have to thank Adele for twisting her arm so gently and masterfully.
There was, she admitted, another reason for her happiness. A clawing fear had been removed from her heart. It had lodged there since the morning of the breakfast meeting she’d had with Carrie and Brian and Phil, when Tess had heard Carrie list the Bradfords as invitees. Very important invitees.
From that moment Tess had waited with mounting apprehension for when Phil would hand her the guest list with a final updated head count, and she would read Edward and Hope Bradford’s names in the “yes” column.
Of course, the possibility of the Bradfords attending hadn’t been her only or greatest fear. The thing she’d dreaded most was having to tell Ward of her connection to the Bradfords and why they might be less than pleased to see her (never mind how she felt about them).
There’d been a number of times when she’d summoned the courage to open her heart and share her painful past with him, only to fail. With each attempt, a messy mix of fear and embarrassment and self-loathing had rendered her mute. She’d been too unsure of Ward’s reaction or of her ability to explain coherently what she’d experienced during those weeks at Mass General. Would she be able to make him understand why she’d chosen to take the Bradfords’ money? Would he end up judging her as harshly as she so often judged herself?
The last instance had occurred the night before all the guests were supposed to RSVP. Half-convinced that the Bradfords would accept at the eleventh hour, she’d been on tenterhooks, unable to sleep.
Not wanting to disturb Ward, she’d slipped from the bed and silently crossed the darkened room to the window, where she’d stared out at the eerily beautiful nightscape and wondered whether the world she’d come to love would be threatened by a simple notecard accepting an invitation.
Lost in her pensive thoughts, she hadn’t registered Ward’s approach until his arms were about her waist. The strength of his body, the unmistakable concern in his voice as he’d gently probed and questioned to discover the reason behind her wakefulness, had been sweet and so wonderful, more than anything she’d ever experienced with David. Once again, she’d nearly recounted the whole bizarre and unpalatable tale (and would doubtless have followed it up by weeping a torrent of tears, further proof of her sheer piteousness).
But this time it was Ward who stopped her. He’d kissed her and then whispered the words she found impossible to resist: “Let me love you, Tess.”
The following morning her unspoken wish had come true.
The specter she’d dreaded never materialized. The Bradfords didn’t even bother to RSVP to the wedding. Their absence had not only spared her the ugliness of a confrontation, it had also allowed her to avoid something even more distressing: explaining to Ward her connection to them.
It was an enormous reprieve. A part of her wasn’t sure she deserved one. Oh, intellectually she knew she’d done nothing wrong. She’d taken money from an unpleasant rich man and used it to help her severely disadvantaged brother. Some might praise her action.
She couldn’t, however. She could only remember the blistering shame she’d felt when she’d seen the contempt and dislike blazing in Mr. Bradford’s eyes, an emotion undimmed after the weeks she’d sat by David’s bedside, watching the husband she’d never truly known slip away.
It wasn’t that she had expected the Bradfords to love her or think she was a hybrid Florence Nightingale and Saint Agnes—Tess had written a report in eighth grade about Agnes of Bohemia’s dedication to the poor and sick—but she would have hoped she’d earned their respect and understanding. Yes, the love she’d felt for David when they first married was gone, but her decision to remain at the hospital had been an attempt to honor what she and he had once had, and to offer what support she could to his parents.
Instead of acceptance, they’d shown her their disdain. Poisonous and mean, it had invaded her system.
“Okay, judging from the look on your face you’ve realized that you forgot to tell Carrie and Brian that they needed a marriage certificate.”
Startled, Tess nearly bobbled her coffee. Righting her clipboard, she said, “That is really not funny, Reid. I had Brian mail the certificate two weeks ago, and your dad put it in the ranch’s safe for me. Your dad also put Brian and Carrie’s wedding rings in there. Carrie’s dress is hanging in the room where she’ll change, and Brian’s suit is pressed and hanging in his closet—”
Reid held up his hand. “Stop. You are scary sometimes, you know? Especially because you don’t look like an alien.”
“Ha. Your family’s paying me to be obsessive-compulsive about every aspect of this wedding.” She smiled, glad Reid had interrupted her bleak thoughts; she didn’t have time for them now. Besides, it was hard not to smile around Reid, especially if one was a woman.
This morning he was as killer handsome as always, dressed in faded jeans and a faded red button-down shirt, its sleeves rolled up to expose tanned, sinewed forearms. A number of single women—Carrie’s college friends—were attending the wedding, and they were already following Reid around in droves; Tess was surprised not to see any hovering in the background.
Before she could ask what he’d done with his female fan club, he spoke. “You still haven’t answered my question, which is all the more pertinent if you’ve got every ‘t’ crossed and ‘i’ dotted, and every petal counted in Carrie’s wedding bouquet. Why the tragic expression?”
She smiled that much more brightly. “I have no idea, since I’m feeling anything but tragic. I was just picturing how pretty this will look after Samantha attaches the arrangements to the aisle chairs. Is Ward down at the barns?”
“Yeah, He’s inspecting the horses to make sure they’re as spiffy as everything else in this place.” He glanced at his watch. “About forty of the guests have signed up
for a trail ride. Thankfully Erica’s not among them, so it should be an uneventful outing for Jim, Pete, Carlos, and Al.” They shared a grin.
“Erica does seem to be on her best behavior.” Tess could only assume that now that Ward had made his disinterest in any kind of reunion plain, she had moved on in her hunt for Mr. Right—another reason to smile a little more broadly on this fine morning.
“I’ve got some time before I escort a bunch of the guests to the Red Leaf vineyards. Ward sent me down to see if I could be of any help.”
Tess hoped that her expression wasn’t turning too misty. “No, thanks. Everything’s under control. Just do your best to keep the guests who are touring the vineyard—and I’m assuming most of them are the women who’ve been trailing after you with rapturous expressions—from getting sloshed.”
“Something tells me that you’ve already told Roo and Jeff to have gallons of coffee on hand to sober them up.”
She didn’t bother trying to deny it. “They can get drunk after the wedding, not before.”
He smiled fondly at her. “You know, I’m going to miss your special brand of crazy when I’m in South Carolina.”
Daniel and Adele had asked Reid to go help Lucy and Peter Whittaker with the riding operation at their inn. He was scheduled to leave the following week.
“Just make sure you’re back here for the cowgirls’ weekend,” she told him. “We can’t have that event without you.”
“Don’t worry. Quinn has issued some very graphic threats about what will happen to me if I don’t show. Though from the way you’re riding Brocco, Ward may have you doing a demo for the ladies.”
“Save the jokes for the wedding guests.”
It didn’t take long for Tess to wish that she could rollerblade across grass. But somehow, even though she seemed to be in constant motion, covering miles as she crisscrossed the grounds of the ranch, overseeing the setting and decorating of tables, making sure that the photographer snapped candid shots of the guests, and checking to see that no crises erupted in the kitchen, Ward nonetheless managed to catch her, stealing a moment with her as she carried a box of miniature ivory rosebuds to the cabin that had been transformed into a salon and boudoir for Carrie and her bridesmaids.
Ordinarily, Samantha would have brought the flowers to Carrie herself, but she was dealing with a mini crisis. At the last minute she’d decided the height of the flowers in the vases that would surround Brian and Carrie and the minister were too low. Blocks of florist foam were being cut to size and inserted into each vase. Then, of course, each arrangement would have to be tweaked to meet Samantha’s exacting standards. Not wanting Carrie to grow nervous waiting, Tess had volunteered to take the rosebuds herself.
The box containing the flowers was balanced on her clipboard—she’d dropped off her coffee cup in the kitchen long ago—when Ward snuck up behind her, slipping his arm around her.
“Gotcha. Mmm.” She felt his ribs expand as he inhaled deeply. “You smell wonderful.” He dropped a kiss on the column of her neck.
She shivered. “It’s the roses.”
“No, it’s you. You look beautiful, too.”
She’d been up before dawn, and the pale lavender linen shift she’d chosen to wear was probably a mistake. “I look like a rumpled bag.” Luckily she’d allotted fifteen minutes in her schedule to change her outfit.
“Sexiest rumpled bag I’ve ever seen.”
She snorted. “Stop. I have important things to do. I’m on my way to deliver the crowning touch for Carrie’s hairdo.”
“I’ll only let you go if you promise me a dance tonight.”
“I may be too busy.”
“Tease,” he said, laughing, but then added in a more serious tone, “I’m crazy about you, you know.”
“Then I guess I’ll have to dance with you.” She half-turned so she could brush her lips against his. “I’ve got to go. I don’t want Carrie to get nervous. And, by the way, I’m crazy about you, too.”
Ward’s parting grin was more intoxicating than the champagne Reid had ordered for the wedding. Tess walked, or rather floated, to the cabin reserved for Carrie’s special day, her elation tempered only slightly when she encountered Erica.
It was obvious she’d just had her makeup and hair done by Ava. She looked beautiful—quite an admission, but it was only right that Tess check any of her former hostility toward Erica. She’d been nothing but wonderful to Carrie this weekend. Gracious and relaxed. And although she may have smiled a few too many times at Ward, she hadn’t made any blatant overtures toward him. Really, Tess could almost like her.
“Oh, hi! Is everything okay? I see that Ava’s arranged your hair—it’s beautiful. Stunning.” The updo, an elegant twisted knot at the base of Erica’s neck, did look spectacular. Classic, it suited Erica’s bone structure to a T.
“Yes, she did a good job.”
“And I just wanted to say how terrific you’ve been with Carrie and Allie’s two little girls. Carrie’s so lucky to have you here for her today.”
A small smile curved Erica’s lips. “I love Carrie. Of course I want her wedding to go well and to make things as easy as possible for the Knowleses. They’ve been so generous to us all. And somehow I think this is going to be one of the most exciting weddings I’ve ever been to.”
An odd statement. Tess pondered it as she knocked and then, at Ava’s cheery call of “Come in, unless you happen to be Brian Nash,” pushed open the door. But all thoughts of Erica flew from her mind when she stepped inside and saw Carrie standing in the middle of the room, looking like a vision.
“Oh, Carrie,” she said, awed.
IT HAD BEGUN.
Tess had sent a radiant Carrie down the aisle on the arm of her proud father as the strains of the string quartet filled the air. Brian and Ward—Tess’s heart thudded at the sight of Ward in an impeccably tailored gray suit—were standing beside the Reverend Williams, a wiry, bespectacled man. The smile on Brian’s face was warmer than the afternoon sun.
As she watched Carrie walk toward Brian, moving with such grace and joy, Tess had daubed her eyes with a handkerchief. Then, collecting herself, she stole around the back row of the chairs, circling the assembled guests, to stop several rows from where Brian and Ward stood.
She could spare a few minutes before going back to the kitchen and ensuring the appetizers were ready and checking in with the bartenders and servers. The ceremony was too lovely to resist.
Reverend Williams was calling the gathered guests to worship, and they were listening attentively. Tess’s gaze swept over the faces of Brian’s and Carrie’s families, looking proud and happy and already a little misty-eyed, to the rows closer to where she stood. She hadn’t met many of Brian’s and Carrie’s friends, but by now their faces, as well as those of the older family friends, had grown vaguely familiar. Then—her heart seemed to stop in her chest—she saw a face that was all too familiar. She knew that long, thin blade of a nose, with the bump that protruded just below the bridge. She knew the silver hair that was combed back to reveal a high forehead, knew the thin lips that had never smiled at her. How many times had that profile been turned toward her as she sat by David’s bedside those long weeks while the hospital’s pale yellow walls assumed the dingy gray of a prison and the tubes attached to David’s body began to resemble manacles?
Hope Bradford wasn’t next to him. It was bizarre that Tess should feel disappointed at her absence, but Mrs. Bradford hadn’t despised her quite so openly.
Oh God, she thought. She’d had her chance to tell Ward about her past, and now here was the very worst of it, sitting ten feet away.
Tess realized that she was shaking. A part of her longed to run away. But then a shift in the wind brought Reverend Williams’s words to her ears.
“And now Brian and Carrie will exchange their wedding vows.”
She heard Brian’s surprisingly strong voice. “Carrie, you are my moon and my stars. And though we may change, and things we can’t e
ven predict may befall us, my love for you will remain constant and eternal. This I promise.”
The words pierced her. This was the kind of enduring and courageous love she wanted to have with Ward. And as her mind conjured up images of their time together, she knew that they could have something just as special. But it involved infinite trust. Tess knew she already trusted Ward on so many levels. With his help she had conquered long-standing fears. Because of him, she not only rode, she loped, her hand free of the saddle horn. But now she had to trust him to believe in her—and in her goodness. That he might not was her greatest fear of all.
Once the ceremony was over she would have to steal a moment alone with Ward. Mentally she ticked off the schedule of events. Perhaps after Liz Reading, the photographer, had taken the bride and groom shots, she could find a way to tell him, at least warn him of the unexpected guest’s identity. She hurried away, intent on keeping as much distance from Mr. Bradford as possible. Would it be too much to hope that she could get through the night without a face-to-face encounter with him?
Ward still had a grin on his face from watching Brian kiss Carrie. He had wondered, and was sure that every assembled guest had wondered, too, whether Brian would ever stop kissing his brand-new wife. Luckily he had before Ward had to tug on his sleeve or Erica had to tap Carrie’s shoulder, reminding them that they had a pretty big audience. It had been a fine ceremony. He was so happy for Brian and Carrie, his two closest friends. And he was damn proud of how smoothly the wedding had gone. Not a hitch. He planned to get Tess alone as soon as he could—and when he did, he intended to put Brian’s kiss to shame.
“Ward.” Erica’s voice interrupted his reverie.
Collecting himself, he replied with a pleasant, “Erica,” as he kept his gaze focused on the newlyweds. Brian and Carrie were walking to a spot at the edge of one of the gardens, where tall cypresses formed a rich greenish black backdrop. The photographer was at the ready.