by Nora Roberts
and arranged—and a hundred hamburger patties to make.
She went out with Brady almost every night. To the movies, to dinner. To a concert. He was such an easy and amusing companion that she began to wonder if she had dreamed the passion and anger in the gloomy kitchen.
But each night when he walked her to the door, each night when he kissed her breathless, she realized he was indeed giving her time to think things through. Just as he was making certain she had plenty to think about.
The night before the wedding, she stayed at home. But she thought of him, even as she and Loretta and Joanie bustled around the kitchen putting last-minute touches on a mountain of food.
“I still think the guys should be here helping,” Joanie muttered as she slapped a hamburger patty between her hands.
“They’d just be in the way.” Loretta molded another hunk of meat into shape. “Besides, I’m too nervous to deal with Ham tonight.”
Joanie laughed. “You’re doing fine. Dad’s a basket case. When he came by the farm today, he asked me three times for a cup of coffee. He had one in his hand the whole time.”
Pleased, Loretta chuckled. “It’s nice to know he’s suffering, too.” She looked at the kitchen clock for the fifth time in five minutes. Eight o’clock, she thought. In fourteen hours she would be married. “I hope it doesn’t rain.”
Vanessa, who’d been deemed an amateur, looked up from her task of arranging the patties in layers between waxed paper. “The forecast is sunny and high seventies.”
“Oh, yes.” Loretta managed a smile. “You told me that before, didn’t you?”
“Only fifty or sixty times.”
Her brows knitted, Loretta looked out the window. “Of course, if it did rain, we could move the wedding indoors. It would be a shame to have the picnic spoiled, though. Ham enjoys it so.”
“It wouldn’t dare rain,” Joanie stated, taking the forgotten patty from the bride-to-be’s hands. Unable to resist, she tucked her tongue in her cheek. “It’s too bad you had to postpone your honeymoon.”
“Oh, well.” With a shrug, Loretta went back to work. She didn’t want to show her disappointment. “Ham just couldn’t manage to clear his schedule. I’ll have to get used to that sort of thing, if I’m going to be a doctor’s wife.” She pressed a hand to her nervous stomach. “Is that rain? Did I hear rain?”
“No,” Vanessa and Joanie said in unison.
With a weak laugh, Loretta washed her hands. “I must be hearing things. I’ve been so addled this past week. Just this morning I couldn’t find my blue silk blouse—and I’ve misplaced the linen slacks I got on sale just last month. My new sandals, too, and my good black cocktail dress. I can’t think where I might have put them.”
Vanessa shot Joanie a warning look before her friend could chuckle. “They’ll turn up.”
“What? Oh, yes…yes, of course they will. Are you sure that’s not rain?”
Exasperated, Vanessa put a hand on her hip. “Mom, for heaven’s sake, it’s not rain. There isn’t going to be any rain. Go take a hot bath.” When Loretta’s eyes filled, Vanessa rolled her eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”
“You called me ‘Mom,’” Loretta said, her breath hitching. “I never thought you would again.” As tears overflowed, she rushed from the room.
“Damn it.” Vanessa leaned her hands on the counter. “I’ve been working overtime to keep the peace all week, and I blow it the night before the wedding.”
“You didn’t blow anything.” Joanie put a hand on her shoulder and rubbed. “I’m not going to say it’s none of my business, because we’re friends, and tomorrow we’ll be family. I’ve watched you and Loretta walk around each other ever since you got back. And I’ve seen the way she looks at you when your back is turned, or when you leave a room.”
“I don’t know if I can give her what she wants.”
“You’re wrong,” Joanie said quietly. “You can. In a lot of ways you already have. Why don’t you go upstairs, make sure she’s all right? I’ll give Brady a call and have him help me load most of this food up and take it down to Dad’s.”
“All right.”
Vanessa went upstairs quietly, slowly, trying to work out the right things to say. But when she saw Loretta sitting on the bed, nothing seemed right.
“I’m sorry.” Loretta dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. “I guess I’m overly emotional tonight.”
“You’re entitled.” Vanessa hesitated in the doorway. “Would you like to be alone?”
“No.” Loretta held out a hand. “Would you sit awhile?”
Unable to refuse, Vanessa crossed the room to sit beside her mother.
“For some reason,” Loretta began, “I’ve been thinking about what you were like as a baby. You were so pretty. I know all mothers say that, but you were. So bright and alert, and all that hair.” She reached out to touch the tips of Vanessa’s hair. “Sometimes I would just sit and watch you as you slept. I couldn’t believe you were mine. As long as I can remember, I wanted to have a home and children. Oh, I wanted to fill a house with children. It was my only ambition.” She looked down at the tissue she had shredded. “When I had you, it was the happiest day of my life. You’ll understand that better when you have a baby of your own.”
“I know you loved me.” Vanessa chose her words carefully. “That’s why the rest was so difficult. But I don’t think this is the time for us to talk about it.”
“Maybe not.” Loretta wasn’t sure it would ever be the time for a full explanation. One that might turn her daughter away again, just when she was beginning to open her heart. “I just want you to know that I understand you’re trying to forgive, and to forgive without explanations. That means a great deal to me.” She took a chance and gripped her daughter’s hand. “I love you now even more than I did that first moment, when they put you into my arms. No matter where you go or what you do, I always will.”
“I love you, too.” Vanessa brought their joined hands to her cheek for a moment. “I always have.” And that was what hurt the most. She rose and managed to smile. “I think you should get some sleep. You want to look your best tomorrow.”
“Yes. Good night, Van.”
“Good night.” She closed the door quietly behind her.
Chapter 8
Vanessa heard the hiss at her window and blinked groggily awake. Rain? she thought, trying to remember why it was so important there be no rain that day.
The wedding, she thought with a start, and sat straight up. The sun was up, she realized as she shook herself. It was streaming through her half-opened window like pale gold fingers. But the hiss came again—and a rattle.
Not rain, she decided as she sprang out of bed. Pebbles. Rushing to the window, she threw it all the way up.
And there he was, standing in her backyard, dressed in ripped sweats and battered sneakers, his legs spread and planted, his head back and a fistful of pebbles in his hand.
“It’s about time,” Brady whispered up at her. “I’ve been throwing rocks at your window for ten minutes.”
Vanessa leaned an elbow on the sill and rested her chin in her palm. “Why?”
“To wake you up.”
“Ever hear of a telephone?”
“I didn’t want to wake your mother.”
She yawned. “What time is it?”
“It’s after six.” He glanced over to see Kong digging at the marigolds and whistled the dog to him. Now they both stood, looking up at her. “Well, are you coming down?”
She grinned. “I like the view from here.”
“You’ve got ten minutes before I find out if I can still shimmy up a drainpipe.”
“Tough choice.” With a laugh, she shut the window. In less than ten minutes, she was creeping out the back door in her oldest jeans and baggiest sweater. Thoughts of a romantic assignation were dispelled when she saw Joanie, Jack and Lara.
“What’s going on?” she demanded.
“We’re decorat
ing.” Brady hefted a cardboard box and shoved it at her. “Crepe paper, balloons, wedding bells. The works. We thought we’d shoot for discreet and elegant here for the ceremony, then go all out down at Dad’s for the picnic.”
“More surprises.” The box weighed a ton, and she shifted it. “Where do we start?”
They worked in whispers and muffled laughter, arguing about the proper way to drape crepe paper on a maple tree. Brady’s idea of discreet was to hang half a dozen paper wedding bells from the branches and top it off with balloons. But it wasn’t until they had carted everything down the block to the Tuckers that he really cut loose.
“It’s a reception, not a circus,” Vanessa reminded him. He had climbed into the old sycamore and was gleefully shooting out strips of crepe paper.
“It’s a celebration,” he replied. “It reminds me of when we’d roll old Mr. Taggert’s willow every Halloween. Hand me some more pink.”
Despite her better judgment, Vanessa obeyed. “It looks like a five-year-old did it.”
“Artistic expression.”
With a muttered comment, Vanessa turned. She saw that Jack had climbed on the roof and was busily anchoring a line of balloons along the gutter. While Lara sat on a blanket with a pile of plastic blocks and Kong for company, Joanie tied the last of the wedding bells to the grape arbor. The result of their combined efforts wasn’t elegant, and it certainly wasn’t artistic. But it was terrific.
“You’re all crazy,” Vanessa decided when Brady jumped from the tree to land softly beside her. He smelled lightly of soap and sweat. “What’s next? A calliope and a snake charmer?”
He reached into a box and drew out another roll of white and a roll of pink. “The mall was out of calliopes, but we’ve still got some of this left.”
Vanessa thought a moment, then grinned. “Give me the tape.” With it in her hand, she raced to the house. “Come on,” she said, gesturing to Brady. “Give me a boost.”
“A what?”
“I need to get up on your shoulders.” She got behind him and leaped up nimbly to hook her legs around his waist. “Try to stand still,” she muttered as she inched her way upward. He tried not to notice that her thighs were slender and only a thin layer of denim away. “Now I need both rolls.”
They juggled the paper and tape between them.
“I like your knees,” Brady commented, turning his head to nip at one.
“Just consider yourself a stepladder.” She secured the tips of the streamers to the eaves of the house. “Move back, but slowly. I’ll twist as you go.”
“Go where?”
“To the back of the yard—to that monstrosity that used to be a sycamore tree.”
Balancing her and craning his neck behind him to be sure he didn’t step on an unwary dog—or his niece—or in a gopher hole, he walked backward. “What are you doing?”
“I’m decorating.” She twisted the strips of pink and white together, letting the streamer droop a few inches above Brady’s head. “Don’t run into the tree.” When they reached it, she hooked her feet around Brady’s chest and leaned forward. “I just have to reach this branch. Got it.”
“Now what?”
“Now we do another from the tree to the other side of the house. Balance,” she said, leaning forward to look at him. “That’s artistic.”
When the deed was done, and the last scrap of colored paper used, she put her hands on her hips and studied the results. “Nice,” she decided. “Very nice—except for the mess you made of the sycamore.”
“The sycamore is a work of art,” he told her. “It’s riddled with symbolism.”
“It looks like Mr. Taggert’s willow on Halloween,” Joanie chimed in as she plucked up Lara and settled her on her hip. “One look at that and he’s going to know who rolled it in toilet paper every year.” She grinned up at Vanessa, who was still perched on Brady’s shoulders. “We’d better run. Only two hours until countdown.” She poked a finger in Brady’s chest. “You’re in charge of Dad until we get back.”
“He’s not going anywhere.”
“I’m not worried about that. He’s so nervous he might tie his shoelaces together.”
“Or forget to wear shoes at all,” Jack put in, taking Joanie’s arm to lead her away. “Or he could wear his shoes and forget his pants, all because you were standing here worrying about it so you didn’t get home and change and get back in time to nag him.”
“I don’t nag,” she said with a chuckle as he pulled her along. “And Brady, don’t forget to check with Mrs. Leary about the cake. Oh, and—” The rest was muffled when Jack clamped a hand over her mouth.
“And I used to put my hands over my ears,” Brady murmured. He twisted his head to look up at Vanessa. “Want a ride home?”
“Sure.”
He trooped off, still carrying her, through the neighboring yards. “Putting on weight?” He’d noticed she was filling out her jeans very nicely.
“Doctor’s orders.” She gave his hair an ungentle tug. “So watch your step.”
“Purely a professional question. How about I give you an exam?” He turned his head to leer at her.
“Look out for the—” She ducked down so that the clotheslines skimmed over her head. “You might have walked around it.”
“Yeah, but now I can smell your hair.” He kissed her before she could straighten up again. “Are you going to make me some breakfast?”
“No.”
“Coffee?”
She chuckled as she started to squirm down his back. “No.”
“Instant?”
“No.” She was laughing when her feet hit the ground. “I’m going to take a long, hot shower, then spend an hour primping and admiring myself in the mirror.”
He gathered her close, though the dog was trying to wiggle between them. “You look pretty good right now.”
“I can look better.”
“I’ll let you know.” He tipped her face up to his. “After the picnic, you want to come by, help me look at paint chips?”
She gave him a quick, impulsive kiss. “I’ll let you know,” she said before she dashed inside.
Loretta’s nerves seemed to have transferred to her daughter. While the bride calmly dressed for her wedding day, Vanessa fussed with the flower arrangements, checked and re-checked the bottle of champagne that had been set aside for the first family toast, and paced from window to window looking for the photographer.
“He should have been here ten minutes ago,” she said when she heard Loretta start downstairs. “I knew it was a mistake to hire Mrs. Driscoll’s grandson’s brother-in-law. I don’t understand why—” She turned, breaking off when she saw her mother.
“Oh. You look beautiful.”
Loretta had chosen a pale, pale green silk with only a touch of ecru lace along the tea-length hem. It was simple—simply cut, simply beautiful. On an impulse, she’d bought a matching picture hat, and she’d fluffed her hair under the brim.
“You don’t think it’s too much?” She reached up, her fingers skimming the hat. “It is just a small, informal wedding.”
“It’s perfect. Really perfect. I’ve never seen you look better.”
“I feel perfect.” She smiled. As a bride should, she was glowing. “I don’t know what was wrong with me last night. Today I feel perfect. I’m so happy.” She shook her head quickly. “I don’t want to cry. I spent forever on my face.”
“You’re not going to cry,” Vanessa said firmly. “The photographer— Oh, thank God, he’s just pulling up outside. I’ll— Oh, wait. Do you have everything?”
“Everything?”
“You know, something old, something new?”
“I forgot.” Struck by bridal superstition, Loretta started a frantic mental search. “The dress is new. And these…” She touched a finger to her pearls. “These were my mother’s—and her mother’s, so they’re old.”
“Good start. Blue?”